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This love, which the marriage even of the beautiful Laura of Noves, that love which gave no cause of fear or uneasiness to the Signor de Sade, her husband, seems to us of the present day extravagant and even impossible ; sometimes it inspires only a doubt or smile of derision. And yet thus lived the poet; singing his dame, his absent mistress, the woman who belonged to another, and who only belonged to him in his verse, poor poet! The memory of a glove, which by chance she let fall, and which he had picked up, and the souvenir of that white and perfumed hand, to which he had restored it, and which, by inadvertence or for support, had once pressed his arm, was the only inspiration of his lyre ; while for the heart of the lady of Sade, the memory of her Petrarch, of her poet, was a thought at once sweet and melancholy. Hence she concealed it not from her lord ; hence this thought caused her no pain, when she caressed the blond locks of the children who surrounded her. The two passed their lives in the luxury of such chaste and peculiar affection, that when Laura died, her poet, mingling his tears with those of the Lord de Sade, mourned for her the balance of his existence.

Ah! when shall we experience love so pure and poetic !

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WITHOUT, mid-June is blazing in its might,

But what delicious coolness here! Its flowers

The laurel shows from its thick glossy bowers;
Trees twine an arbor o'er so dense, the sight
Sees the blue sky in speckles, and the light
Dances like golden insects on the water.
The snowy lily, that most delicate daughter
Of all the graceful offspring of the brook,

Stoops to the hair-foot of the velvet bee,
And now it dips, as from yon gold-green nook

A furrow meets it, by the wood-duck's breast
Raised, as she launches dart-like from her nest,

And seeks yon isle of water-cresses. See
That purple shape! -the keen King-fisher dashes

From the dead limb on which he long has stood,
Watching his finny prey ; his plumage flashes

A moment, and he's passed within the wood
That walls the opposite bank. How beautiful

Yon sight; the little timid muskrat swimming
By that smooth green-sward, the full current rimming,
Nibbling the plant, or giving passing pull

To the long vine that hangs down its green trimming;
But now his sharp black beads of eyes have caught
My form, and he is gone. Most sweet the purl

Of this small water-break; one sunny curl
Of foam up-rising from the plunge. How fraught
With lovely, changing things is every spot

Of nature! God has made His world o'erflowing

With beauty, and with lip and heart all glowing
To Him, our praise should rise, and weary not.

8

A. B. 8.

VOL. XXXIV.

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We would be loved with pure and fond affection,

Which knows no shade of change and fears for naught; And when alone, would love the recollection

That kindly ones are with us still in thought.

Would have one bosom, in whose deep recesses

The thoughts we long to speak may garnered be ; The holy secrets which the heart confesses,

Then only, when it loves most tenderly.

The soul should tell its wants, its aspirations,

That it may hear some sympathetic tone; We gain redoubled strength by these vibrations

Of thoughts which are, and yet are not, our own.

Bright scenes of beauty, with their mute appealings,

Invite us to put on their happy mood; But sadly beautiful are such revealings

To him who worships them in solitude.

Perchance it may not be; the things we cherish

Like shadows may appear, then pass away ;
We will not droop, though all our best hopes perish,

But wait the dawning of a brighter day.

The bitter waters with the sweet are flowing ;

The snake that stings bears yet an antidote ; Beside the poison tree a balm is growing,

Where there is wrong, right will not be remote.

We will be strong; will calm the heart's emotion

With thoughts of high emprise and valorous strife;
If what we long for may not be our portion,

Our longings still will lead to nobler life.

Then, Soul ! be brave; thou hast thy place and station;

Thou hast thy task to do, thy prize to win ;
And be thy thought, that this sublime creation

Is more sublime, that thou hast lived therein.
Cambridge, June, 1849.

INTERIOR GEORGIA LIFE AND SCENERY.

BY

A

SOUTHERN TRAVELLER.

Mounted on horseback, with coarse leggings and a heavy blanket to protect me from the weather, saddle-bags filled with clothing and provisions, and armed (as is the custom of those who travel in this section of the country) with pistol and bowie-knife, I set off alone to wander for a few days among the mountains of Georgia, filled with high anticipations of a pleasant and novel excursion.

The first day of my journey was mild and pleasant; unusually so, for January. My road lay along a bold ridge, which sloped in some places gently, now abruptly off on either side, leaving me a commanding view of the surrounding country, dull and uninteresting though it was, seeming like an almost interminable forest. Here and there in the distance might be seen the light blue smoke curling gracefully upward from some 'settler's cabin,' or a denser, gloomier mass, rising from the black and charred trunks of an hundred trees ; still farther in the distance, bordering on the horizon's edge and rising in bold relief against the sky, the lofty snow-capped summits of the Blue Ridge' appear.

The slumbering echoes of the forest were occasionally awakened by the solitary fall of some shattered trunk, whose noble frame had long resisted the inroads of disease and decay; but now falls with dull and gloomy sound, to rouse the traveller from his reveries, and teli its tale of passing away.'

Toward evening I overtook a man, who from his dress, a homespun suit, mud-color, and a broad-brimmed wool hat, I took to be a

native.' We jogged along together, and in half an hour I knew him well : with the frankness and confidence of a southerner, he had, unasked, told me his whole history. He frankly acknowledged that he could neither read nor write ; which by the way is no uncommon thing in Georgia, even among people of considerable wealth. And his greatest pride seemed to be his . faculty for a horse swap :' in this he considered himself par excellence, to use his own expression, right smart.' Yes, and he strode a 'right smart chance of a critter,' that could n't be beat in 'them diggins,' if you 'd believe him.

Having ridden ninety miles, over an exceedingly rough road, and through a monotonous country, stopping the first night in Gainsville, the second in Clarksville, I arrived on the morning of the third day at Toccoa Falls, twelve miles from Clarksville.

The meaning of this sweet Indian word, · Toccoa,' is beautiful.'

As there is no house in the vicinity of these falls, I hitched my horse to a tree by the road-side, and strolling off by a little foot-path which led to the right, I was soon on the brink of the precipice. Quietly and placidly glides on, through its many mountain windings, this beautiful' river until it reaches the edge of the precipice; then plunging headlong, one hundred and eighty-six feet to the depth below, gathers its scattered waters, which, long ere they reach the bottom of the fall, come dancing, sparkling down in innumerable spray drops, again flows gracefully on, to mingle its silvery waters with larger and nobler streams.

In summer, ' Toccoa' must indeed be a beautiful spot, when every thing around is fresh and green; when flowers, of which there is here a wild profusion, and in full bloom, and birds are warbling their sweetest melodies.

Many are the legends related in connection with this place, among which is the following: In days long since numbered among the ' things that were,' when the Indians were the sole inhabitants of this region of country, a fierce old crone had been set to guard a score of prisoners from a neighboring tribe, until they could be taken out to torture ; hearing, while her people were at war in another direction, that the tribe of the prisoners was coming to their rescue, she promised to release them on certain conditions ; so, unloosing their feet, but keeping them bound together by the hands, and blindfolded, she led them through a night of darkness and a storm of lightning, thunder and rain, to the edge of this fall; then stepping suddenly and noiselessly aside, the first of the prisoners fell over, and being bound all together by the hands, one by one they were all dragged after him, and dashed to pieces on the rocks below.

The old hag, smiling exultingly at the success of her scheme, returned through the raging elements to her solitary wigwam.

After viewing from many points the various beauties of this place, I again mounted my steed, and was soon on my way to Tallula,' fif. teen miles distant. It was nearly all up-hill work, and the road being uneven, my progress was necessarily slow, so that when I reached the summit of the mountain, a place well known as the 'Ocean View,' the sun was fast declining behind the hills.

I had been riding slowly, almost thoughtlessly, along, little dreaming of seeing any thing interesting ; when suddenly, as if by magic, the whole of this magnificent Ocean View' burst upon my vision so unexpectedly that for a moment I was overwhelmed. I could not believe that other than Alpine scenery could be so charmingly grand. Below and far, far around me, was one vast sea of waving pines : beautiful wreaths of smoke were seen curling up in

direction; and still beyond, 'peak on peak and Alps on Alps' arose, each rising against the other with the distinctness and regularity of the billows of the sea; their snow-capped summits, seen far as the eye could reach, were the almost perfect resemblance of the foam-crested waves of old ocean.

every

This is doubtless the finest view of mountain scenery in the United States. I lingered here long after the sun had departed, till the mountains were obscured by the thickening shades of evening, and then hastened on to find lodgings for the night. A ride of a mile brought me to a log-cabin, the only house near the falls.

I was soon quite at home in my new and humble habitation, sitting before a blazing lightwood fire, conversing familiarly with mine host : around us were playing four bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked little children, whose names, Tallula, Magnolia, Rolla and Cherubusco, well bespoke the eccentricity of the father. Think for a moment, reader of Cherubusco Beale! I told the father that it was wicked to impose such a name upon

his child. He replied : What 's in a name?' After partaking heartily of a venison supper, (which no one can cook superior to Mrs. Beale,) and drinking a gourd of water, feeling fatigued by the day's exposure, I asked where I was to sleep. They led me into an unoccupied part of the house, and up into the second loft, reached only by a ladder. I did not like its open-work looks, for the night was bitter cold, but as my only alternative was this or nothing, I wrapped myself up in my blanket

, piled the bed-clothes over me a foot high, and tried to find the soft side of a corn-shuck mattress.

Lulled by the roar of the distant cataract, I strove to sleep, but strove in vain. I tried to forget my woes by counting the stars which glistened through the many cracks in the roof; but through those same cracks the wind, cold and chilling, came whistling through two holes, cut to let in the light, in which there was no sign of glass. Shivering, shaking, was my song during the whole long night, and happy was I when morning dawned.

After bathing in the pure waters of a spring, and partaking of a well-cooked breakfast, I strolled off, accompanied by Mr. Beale as a guide, to see the falls.

If Toccoa is beautiful, Tallula is truly terrible;' the signification of Terrora, the river which forms these falls. Here nature has lavished her beauties in the greatest profüsion ; exhibiting them in every conceivable form of loveliness and sublimity, entrancing the gaze of the astonished beholder, and overwhelming him with amazement and awe. There is a solemn grandeur, an unspeakable sublimity, in the scene, an overpowering of the senses, as one stands on the Devil's Pulpit,' a point of rock which projects over the awful chasm, and gazes far, far down into the yawning abyss directly beneath him, that must be felt to be truly appreciated in its terror and wildness.

Picture to yourself an immense mountain of granite, a thousand feet high burst asunder to its very base by some powerful action in nature; and through the gorge

thus formed let the · Terrible' pour its rushing waters foaming and furious over the Lodore' cascade, the first and smallest of the five, then gaining force as it dashes on, leaps wildly over Tempesta, Oceanna, Horricon and Serpentine successively, till finally lost to view among the mountain sweeps, its

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