CHAPTER VIII. THE evening previous to Douglas's departure from his friend, it was resolved should be spent in each other's society. In fulfilling this design, they descended the town-crossed the bridge-and quickly introduced themselves to the beautiful and romantic domain of Lady T-. In happy mood, they strolled over hill and dale and dingle, till they entered the most favorite walk the neighbourhood afforded. The walk itself was bedded with the finest elastic moss, and ran forward beyond the sight, till it issued in a serpentine path that penetrated a wilderness of shrubs; while its boundaries to the right and left, were marked by two rows of the noblest elms, which, after rising to an unusual height, formed an elegant latticed canopy above. On the one hand, was a verdant bank where the primrose, the violet, the cowslip, the daffodil dwelt and flourished in their turns; relieved, occasionally, by the jetting of masses of stone, over which the hazel, the brier, or the clematis was scrambling. On the other hand, a gentle slope adorned with the cedar, the willow, the fir, and the birch, descended to a considerable river, which flowed quietly onward in a line with the path, reflecting and partaking the cheerful tranquillity of the heavens. Beyond the river, was a rich meadow, where a number of cattle were reposing; and from whose farther margin rose the town, scattered on the broken acclivities of a large rock, and mantled by the beauties of vegetation, so as to exhibit an object the most picturesque imaginable. Above the town, stood the ruins of the Priory; having for its back ground, some of the finest hills of which our country can boast and below it, was a mill driven by a stream, which, after wandering capriciously about the valley, joined the river, from which it had previously separated itself. Every thing seemed to contribute to the enjoyment of this spot. The day had been hot; but the evening breezes were now up. The whole course of the sun had been triumphant; and he appeared determined to throw around his close the utmost degree of splendor. His ardent beams glowed on the o'erhanging foliage, glittered on the wavy waters, and streamed on the thousand windows of the town, in dazzling glory. All nature was rejoicing in his radiance. The insects were floating in the air, the fish were springing playfully from the surface of the water,-the birds were raising their evening hymn to the God of day;-while, from the neighbourhood of the Priory, the hum of youthful gaiety swelled and died alternately on the ear. Our young friends were not insensible to the joyous scene. They were happy in themselves; and their happiness received no small addition, by the appearance of happiness and serenity on the objects around them. They smiled on each other they smiled on nature;—and, frequently, raised a countenance, glistening with love, above the sublunary clouds. Filled with : sweet reflections, they paced their favorite path, sometimes speaking-sometimes silent; but always holding communion, till thought rose to bliss and bliss to rapture. At length, body and mind required relief; and they seated themselves beneath a fine cedar on the margin of the river; while their enjoyments became more peaceful and not less satisfactory. How was the face of nature changed in so short an interval! The last light of the sun had left the hills. Not a breath stirred the young sprays of the birch, which hung on the water. The birds had ceased to sing, and the cattle to low; the murmurs of the town had passed away, and not a sound was heard, except the gurgling of a streamlet, that was finding its way to the bosom of the river. The moon, enrobed with a fleecy cloud, was ascending the heavens, as sovereign of the night, and, with her soft silvery light, had given her own colouring to all things in nature. "How lovely is nature," said Douglas, "always lovely! She is ever changing, but her changes leave one no regrets. Like a friend of peculiar delicacy, she seems prepared to receive us in our own moodiness. When we are sad, she soothes us; when we are happy, she gladdens us; when we would be silent, she is still as death; and when we would speak, she is the echo of our sentiments!" "And," said Lefevre, "how simple, how cheap, how accessible, are her pleasures! Those who desire them, have them, without money and without price: and those who have a taste for them never want society. As Prince Eugene is said to have eminently esteemed a friend, who first taught him the value of a moral maxim, so I would reckon those among my benefactors, who have given me a relish for nature." "Would that, as these pleasures are open to all, so they were universally enjoyed!" observed Douglas; "but how many persons there are, who have no rational delight in nature. They little know what a source of pleasure-what a preventative of temptation, they are neglect |