For care had never dimm'd my brow, Nor aught of life's dark changes knew. Farewell, sweet scenes of past delight— I wander on my weary way, HELEN. SCENE PAINTING. THERE! the fire burns briskly now. The flame has been creeping gradually round the dry beechen wood, sending up here an uncertain quiver, and there a bright and steady spire, till at length the hearth and every corner of my solitary chamber are laughing with the ruddy glow. I will extinguish the lamp ;-for this heavy old volume has wearied me; and the fire-light shall diffuse its own cheerfulness over my soul. The wind comes boisterously against my window, shaking and rattling the casement as if a strong man was forcing his entrance, or as if the spirits of the air were weary of riding on the night-blast, and would fain sit down with me by this comfortable hearth. Truly, I desire not their shadowy company. Yet I would gladly hear some friendly step ascending the staircase; for these many hours of mental exertion and bodily inaction have left a melancholy behind them, which a kind and cheerful voice would speedily dispel. But the hour is late, and I can hope for no visiter to-night. At this moment, I feel myself alone in the world. The ball-rooms are crowded, and the theatres are full of life and light,-while I sit sadly here, unable to sleep, yet weary of watching. But I will be sufficient for myself. The land of fancy is free to every footstep; and its inhabitants-the beings of the past, the present, and the future-shall appear before me like actual existence. These creatures of my own mind shall be to me in the place of friends and kindred; and having lived for a little space in a world of dreams, I shall return with a freshened heart to dull reality. The period of time to which I will transport myself, is towards the close of the seventeenth century, when those, whom religious persecution had driven from their native land, had changed a portion of the American wilderness into a fertile field. The locality shall be a respectable mansion, situated within a secure distance of one of the most considerable New-England towns. The apartment, in which the family is assembled, is of moderate dimensions, and its low, smoky ceiling seems calculated for inhabitants of but moderate stature. The fireplace, with its hearth extending to the middle of the floor, is almost equal in size to the room of which it constitutes a part. The huge logs, that blaze so cheerfully and throw their deepening light on the rough walls, prove that a winter evening is fast closing in; and the occasional patter of mingled snow and rain, against the diamond-paned windows, tells of a gathering storm. The furniture of the apartment is evidently of various origin. Those tall, caryed chairs, dark as ebony, stood stately, perhaps for ages, in some ancient hall, before the pilgrim gathered his substance and went forth from the home of his forefathers. That mirror, too, has reflected many a form and face, that has long been dust and ashes; and age has so dimmed its lustre, that the gazer's figure appears scarcely more distinct than a shadow. Other articles are of the fabric of this new land, constructed inartificially by hands little accustomed to such labor. That table, for instance, on which the marks of the axe are yet visible, was hewn from a solid block of wood ;--and noble must have been the tree that supplied the material. On the walls of the apartment are exhibited specimens of Indian arms and ornaments; and over the chimney-piece hangs a steel cuirass, somewhat dimmed by rust, but glowing brightly in the fire-light. Near it, is suspended a broadsword, in its iron scabbard, and above, on two hooks, rests a carabine, with wide bore, short barrel, and match-lock. SCENE PAINTING. 25 These weapons, peacefully as they now hang upon the wall, have borne their part in the strife of death; and their owner-that gray-haired man-has rode over many a battle field. He is an old Cromwellian, who fought for the faith through all the wars of the commonwealth; but when a profligate and popish king was established on the throne, he left his native land, and sought, in the wilderness, the freedom and the peace which elsewhere were denied him. How lofty is the old man's forehead, wrinkled deeply near his thick gray eye-brows, but smooth and pale beneath his hair! His countenance has something of the sternness, inseparable from a firm and resolute character, when hardened by a life like his; but the mild influence of age has been at work there, and a truer sense of religion, than he had attained in his strength of manhood, has added meekness to his zeal. And withal, there is a stately, martial air, yet lingering about his time-worn face and figure. This, connected as it is with a sort of apostolic grace, gives him a resemblance, one might fancy, to some old crusader, with whom war was religion. His spouse, the dame who sits on the opposite side of the hearth, sedulously attentive to her knitting-though long past the date of youth, is many years younger than her husband. Her complexion, less fresh than those of the natives of the old country, denotes her to be New-England born,the child, probably, of one of the first settlers. Age has not yet been able to tame a certain quickness in her eye and in all her movements, which is generally to be observed in notable and stirring housewives. There is perhaps a little habitual asperity in her mode of addressing the inferior members of the family, but her voice, when speaking to her husband, has a subdued tone, that tells of "awful rule and right supremacy." The sway, which the good man evidently exercises, was not, it may be supposed, yielded without many struggles on the lady's part, though the bitterness of the contest has long been forgotten, and obedience is now a pleasure. A numerous offspring crowned the union of the pair; but the sons went forth, early in life, and chose fields and built dwellings for themselves. The daughters, also, have been drawn one after another from the parental roof; and there now remains, by that broad fireside, only one demure little maiden, in her eighteenth year. How prim is her dress! How ungraceful, on a less graceful head, would be that small, stiff, unornamented cap! From beneath it, only one of her brown, silky locks has been able to find its way, and even that, at her mother's command, she endeavors to return to its hiding-place. But still, as she withdraws her hand, the wilful lock of hair is sure to follow; and at length, blushing beneath the gaze of one who watches to meet her downcast eye, she ceases from the attempt. The personage, whose observation thus discomposes the simple maiden, is next to be described. He is a youth of some twenty years, tall and dark-cheeked, with free and bold features, and a frame that has acquired early strength from habitual toil. There is little of polish in the young man's manner; but its place is well supplied by a natural grace and freedom,-and such, it is easy to perceive, is the opinion of the little maiden, whose glance, almost against her will, is continually mingling with his. How pleasant it is to watch the intercourse of these youthful lovers, artfully concealed, as they believe it to be! The father, though apparently wrapt in his own grave thoughts, has his eye upon them,-not in anger or disapprobation, but with a gentle feeling of inward mirth, manifested, occasionally, by a half smile on his calm old countenance. The mother, also, throws a knowing glance towards her husband, and then, with an assumed gravity, bends her eyes on the youthful pair, endeavoring to frown when a whisper reaches her ear, or when the casual meeting of hands occasions a momentary pressure. But the lovers see nothing very terrible in the matron's frown; for virtuous affection is a sight which woman delights to look upon. As the evening advances, the gray old sire, partly at the request of his companions, and partly from the influence of 'narrative old age,' becomes fruitful in stories of other days. He speaks of the warfare of his youth, and describes the battles in which he fought, so distinctly that the young man's heart beats high. He paints the mien and lineaments of Cromwell, whose sword was more powerful than the sceptre, and of Charles, as he beheld him, when, the son of a hundred kings, he stood upon the scaffold, ready to lay his head upon the block. the block. As the old man alludes to this deed -terrible, even if just-his voice falters and its tones are saddened. A feeling of awful reverence for the name of king has never been extinguished in his breast, though duty and an unbending spirit armed him against royal oppression. To all these tales, though many times repeated, his auditors lend due attention; but most earnestly do they listen when he describes the country of their fathers, the 'merry England,' which, though natives of a far distant soil, they long, with filial hearts, to behold. He tells of old, halfruined towers,-of fields more deeply green than those of New-England, of palaces, compared to which our proudest dwellings are but hovels,-and of the wide, enormous city, over which the smoke hangs in an eternal cloud. And the old man's countenance is changed, as he remembers the time-worn mansion, standing beside the little silver stream, where he first drew breath, and where his careless childhood fled blissfully away. He sighs to think that his bones must be laid so far from that unforgotten spot; he scarcely deems that he can rest, except in the church-yard and among the gray tomb-stones of his fathers. But this brief cloud of sadness passes away, and he now turns the conversation to the country which he has adopted, and to which he has transferred the strength of his affections. They speak of the wild Indian, and of the warfare, the sound of which comes sometimes to their very doors. And here the young man's eye is kindling, while the maiden's cheek grows pale, and her little hand almost unconsciously resigns itself to her lover's eager grasp. And next they talk, with an unwavering belief, of ghosts, and witches, and all the machinations of the evil one. How fearfully they cast their eyes towards the darker portions of the apartment, half dreading that some horrible shadow may meet them there! Even the old soldier, who has so frequently looked death in the face, now confesses a portion of the mysterious terror, which is one among many proofs of another state of existence. But the hour of evening prayer, more welcome because in that holy exercise they find a refuge from every fear, has now arrived. The family and their youthful guest listen reverently to the old man's words, simply but strongly eloquent, and unite in his petitions. And thus passed away the winter evening, in the early days of our country. But, alas, how chilling is the thought! That gray old sire, and the matron, strict but not unkind, |