Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB
[graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]

ciate in flocks; the thrush utters an occasional note, in a manner which might induce the belief that it was ashamed of the sound of its own voice; the hedgesparrow and titmouse seem as though trying to sing and keep the robin company; blackbirds nestle together in banks where the hedge-fruit is plentifully found; larks find shelter among the stubbles, and tribes of small birds visit the stack-yards in search of sustenance.

reminding us of the words of the psalmist, The yellow-hammer and the chaffinch

"He giveth snow like wool:

He scattereth the hoar-frost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels: Who can stand before his cold?"

On the common may be seen the bright yellow flowers of the furze; the moles ply their night work in the drier meadows; the green plover" whistles o'er the lea;" the snipes haunt the marshy ground; the wagtails collect around the spring-heads; the larks assoDECEMBER, 1847.

are seen near houses, while the redwing and others frequent the sides of the streams that remain unfrozen. The ringdove seeks the ivy-berries; the waterfowl are seen in the neighbourhood of ponds and marshy ground; and seabirds leave the shore, and frequent the inland rivers. Fieldfares are now seen in great numbers, and the young sportsman, who shoulders a gun for the first time, considers this bird a prize, if he succeed in adding it to his bag of sparrows and

2 M

larks, as it is difficult to approach. They arrive in large flocks in pursuit of food from the north; and if the weather is mild, spread themselves over pasture-lands, in pursuit of worms, slugs, and other soft-bodied animals; but on the occurrence of frost or snow, they betake themselves to the hedges, and feed greedily on haws and other wild fruit. Should the weather become very severe, the fieldfare will proceed more southward, and will be seen again on its return. The call-note of the bird is harsh, but its song is soft and melodious. At night it frequents evergreens and thick plantations; but it has also been known to roost among the heath and furze of commons, and other bushy places. The redwing is another winter visitor to the shores of Britain, coming, like the fieldfare, from the northern and north-eastern parts of Europe. It frequents parks and pleasure-grounds that are ornamented with clumps of trees, and, like the thrush, which it much resembles in external appearance, seeks its subsistence in milder weather in pasture lands and moist meadows. Linnæus, several times, in his tour in Lapland, notices this bird, "whose amorous warblings from the top of the spruce fir were delightful. Its high and varied notes rival those of the nightingale herself."

But we look in vain for vast numbers of the animal creation, and ask, "Where are they all?" Many have availed themselves of the threatenings of the last severe weather, and have accommodated themselves to the peculiar circumstances in which it is intended they should be placed. Some have burrowed in the earth, where they will remain until the genial influences of spring encourage them to reappear; many of the insect tribes are hidden in the crevices of the bark of trees and shrubs, or have found shelter in the holes of rocks, dived below the surface of the water, and are immovably fixed in the sides or bottom of the stream banks. "The frog sinks to the bottom of ponds and ditches, and buries itself in the mud. The lizard, the badger, the hedgehog, creep into holes in the earth, and remain torpid till spring. Bats get into old barns, caves, and deserted buildings, where, suspending themselves by their hind feet, and wrapping themselves in the membranes of their fore feet, they sleep winter away, except some unusual intervals of mild weather should awake, and call them out for a

little while occasionally. Squirrels, rats, and field-mice shut themselves up, with their winter stores; and the dormouse betakes itself to slumber. When the hedges are bare, numbers of old birds' nests are visible; and when they are near the dog-rose, they are found full of the seeds of the hips, the field-mice being in the habit of climbing up the hedges for this fruit, and using the nests as stations where they may sit and eat." Other animals have migrated, and, in more genial climes, escape the threatening severities of the winter season, while their places are supplied by hardy species of the feathered races, which have left the storms and rigour of the northern regions to enjoy the more temperate cold of our own winter.

There is a greenness about the meadows produced by the late rains which is pleasing; the corn-fields display the young autumn-sown corn, and the hardy primrose and violet are seen near the hedgerows, where the fallen leaves have thickly collected. The laurustinus, holly, and other evergreens which appear near the home-enclosures, have lost the sombre hue with which they have been distinguished, and by contrast with the faded leaves and bared trees around, look gay and cheering.

The farmer has still a sufficiency of employment, though the particular business of his men greatly depends on the state of the weather. The live-stock now requires a regular supply of food, and the thresher is busily engaged, if the horse or steam threshing machine is not employed. Ditches are cleared, fences repaired, plantations of fruit and timber trees finished, turf collected, earths carted from ditches and old banks; the water meadows are flooded, and land-draining attended to.

The heavens present at this period of the year a peculiar beauty of appearance. The transparent purity of the frosty atmosphere gives an extent of vision, and a richness and intensity of colour to the high concave, over which are studded the bright stars; the moon sails among the glittering galaxies with a more than usual queenly grace, while the light clouds that cross her track serve but to increase her radiance. But when the mind seeks to understand the magnitude of the scene, it finds its incapacity, and after exercising its utmost power, falls back with the conviction of the immensity of the task, and seeks repose for

its wearied faculties in silent adoration of beauties which are presented to us in the Hand that has

"Sown the heavens with stars,
Thick as a field."

As the sun is hidden by the thick clouds that intervene, and the gloomy weather forebodes the gathering tempest, the minds of many are depressed, and they regard this as a season peculiarly unpleasant and useless. Doubtless there are many advantages possessed by other periods which this does not enjoy; but let the important operations going on in nature be appreciated, and we shall adore the goodness of an all-wise and good Creator. The earth, it must be remembered, almost exhausted by its fruitfulness, requires a renovation of its strength, to accomplish which it must not only have repose, but an abundance of moisture. Hence the necessity there is for the plenteous supplies we enjoy at this time; which, discharged from the heavy clouds, swell the streams and rivers, which, overflowing their banks, sweep over the lowland fields and meadows. The water thus furnished penetrates the arid land, and refreshes the lowest roots of the plants, while the dry leaves which cover the ground are made rapidly to decay, and are incorporated with the soil, from which, in other forms, they have been taken. Thus, although it appears the night of the year, the days becoming shorter and darker, spread an unwonted gloom around; earth grows niggardly of her supplies of nourishment and shelter; man seeks artificial means of warmth and hoarded supplies of food; the wind whistles ominously through the naked trees; and the flowing waters become fixed and immovable; yet a mighty arrangement is going on for re-supplying us with the beauties of another year.

If we could look within the trunk of that denuded tree, whose naked arms creak in every blast, we should observe many very important operations. Preparation is there advancing in secret for the renovation of leaf and bark, the construction of the flower and the fruit, and a multitude of other results, as important as they are delicate and mysterious. Let these considerations occupy our minds when we look around us with regret, and prospectively examine those scenes of interest and of beauty, which will be displayed when these preparatory arrangements are consummated in maturity.

We have thus examined a few of those

nature's gradual development in spring, its maturity in summer, and its decline in autumn and winter; and many considerations have arisen calculated to produce a beneficial result. The study of the beauties of nature may be rendered as improving as it is delightful, if it is only regarded in a proper point of view, and the hand of God acknowledged in his various works. Indications have been observed of unfathomable design in the conception, and power in the execution of the great scheme of nature; and if the view has not been highly improving, the fault must rest with ourselves.

The analogy which is apparent between the succession of the seasons and the progress and decline of human life is generally acknowledged. Spring has been regarded as the youth of the year, the season of pleasing hope, lively energy, and rapid increase; summer has been compared to perfect manhood, the season of confirmed strength and undiminished vigour. Autumn, while it bestows the rich products of full maturity, is yet hastening to decline, and has been aptly compared to that period when the man, mellowed by age, yields the valuable fruits of wisdom and experience, but daily exhibits increasing symptoms of decay; while the coldness of winter has been termed the decrepit and hoary old age of the year. Well has Thomson drawn a religious and instructive lesson from the comparison:

"Behold, fond man!
See here thy pictured life;-pass some few years,
Thy flowering spring, thy summer's ardent strength,
Thy sober autumn, fading into age,

And pale concluding winter comes at last,
And shuts the scene. Ah! whither now are fled
Those dreams of greatness? those unsolid hopes
Those restless cares? those busy bustling days?
Of happiness? those longings after fame?
Those gay-spent, festive nights? those veering
thoughts,

Lost between good and ill, that shared thy life?
All now are vanish'd. Virtue sole survives."

During the season of winter, man himself seems to forget the scenes in which he loved to mingle. Instead of feeding his mind with facts gathered at pleasure from the great book of Nature, he consults the tomes which men of science and literature have placed upon his shelves; and, as he sits by the cheering fire, he silently indulges in communion with the minds of other men, or reads to an attentive family circle many important truths. By these means the thoughts and principles of men of all

countries and ages are brought before them; their ideas are modified or displaced by others which their feelings or judgment may dictate, while friendly discussion on the various subjects will add to the general interest and improvement.

Thus the winter evenings, which by some are only associated with what is chilling and dreary, are highly regarded by others. It has been said that the bee extracts honey and the wasp poison from the same flower, and this fact illustrates the difference of position occupied by men of opposite tendencies of mind. He who is discontented with his lot, whether rich or poor, will dwell on the shortness or chilliness of the day, and on the long and wearisome nights; while the man who is habitually contented with the position in which he is placed, will talk of the happiness of the wintry fireside, the sweets of refined society, the mental luxury of books, and thank God for the blessings he enjoys. The winds may howl over the ravaged earth, as though bewailing the departed glories of the year, the clouds may lower and discharge their watery burden on the earth, the fields may look saturated and dead; but these will only tend to render the love of domestic happiness and fireside enjoyments the greater.

appear

Availing ourselves of the proffered advantages, and patiently awaiting the return of nature's beauties, we can calmly observe the fury of the wintry storm, and while the inferior animals shrink from their approach, let us regard all the appearances of winter as evidences of the same infinite benevolence, which brings forth the promises of spring and fulfils the hopes of harvest, and as illustrations of that wisdom which makes momentary evil the source of permanent good. Whatever may be the natural or moral ances we behold, let it never be forgotten that the same Almighty mind reigns amidst them all; that all things work together for good to those who love him and seek his protection and love, and that amidst the storms of our moral nature those dispositions are matured, which are to awaken under the influence of a greater spring than that of nature, and to exist when its revolutions are ended, and time is lost in immortality. Another year will soon have passed away, and if we for a moment appreciate the fact, that—

"One hour of parted time A world's too poor to buy,"

[blocks in formation]

very

WE left the palace-town of Potzdamfor such it may justly be termed*-to go to one connected with different associations, and exhibiting an aspect almost as different-I mean the town of Wittenberg. Potzdam owes all its splendour to Frederick the Great, the friend, if we may call him so, of the infidel Voltaire. There we were shown the apartment Voltaire had occupied, the book in which Voltaire had written, and the cabinet, with a dining-table made to descend and ascend through a trap-door, to be changed or replenished; so that the king might not be interrupted by attendants when he dined there, with Voltaire, and a few other chosen literary associates; and, leaving all the splendour of Potzdam and Sans Souci,† we went to Wittenberg, to view more lowly scenes, which are connected with the memories of greater deeds than ever Voltaire or the celebrated king of Prussia thought of aspiring to. In the marketplace of that otherwise uninteresting town is a bronze statue of the monk of Wittenberg, Martin Luther, on which are inscribed in German these often-quoted words: "If it be the work of God, it will endure; if of men, it will perish. work has endured, and the relics of Wittenberg are surely more interesting than those of Potzdam.

That

The Augustine convent in which Luther dwelt is a convent no longer, but there his cell, his table and chair are religiously preserved; the Prussian government also has purchased Melancthon's house, and uses it as an orphan asylum.

I felt it no little honour to sit in Luther's chair; and while I did so, the idea of all the thoughts that must have filled and agitated the mind of the reform

* Potzdam, in the vicinity of Berlin, is called the Prussian Versailles. It possesses four royal palaces. The dulness of its streets often contrasts singularly with the splendour of their architecture.

The royal palace, "Sans Souci," that is, "Without Care," is still the most splendid residence of the Prussian monarchs. Even while walking in its magnificent gardens, one feels how unwise it is in any mortal to name his dwelling "Sans Souci," "Without Care." The late king was a prey to grief. The beautiful statue of his ever-lamented wife is placed in an adjoining temple.

ing monk who had long ago occupied it, rushed over mine, and plunged me into a fit of abstraction, which might have lasted inconveniently long, if the good woman who showed the place had not dissipated it by approaching with a request that I would look at Dr. Luther's rosary! Wittenberg witnessed the stormy infancy of the Reformation. The Reformation-commenced in the struggles of a humble soul, in the cell of a convent at Erfurt—was cradled in the Augustine convent of Wittenberg.

It was in the year 1508, that Luther was appointed by the elector of Saxony professor of theology and philosophy at the once famous University of Wittenberg. "Arrived at Wittenberg," says his biographer, "he repaired to the convent of the Augustines, where a cell was assigned him; for though a professor, he did not cease to be a monk. Thus Luther, who hungered and thirsted for the word of God, was obliged to devote himself almost exclusively to the study of the scholastic philosophy of Aristotle. ... But the labours to which Luther was then obliged to devote himself were of great use to him afterwards, in combating the errors of the schools." The reputation he acquired doubtless seconded his ardent desire to be able to devote himself to theology alone, and at the end of a year he received permission to attend only to biblical theology. Every day, at one o'clock, he had to deliver a lecture, or exposition of the Bible-" a precious hour for the professor and the disciples, which caused them to penetrate more and more into the divine sense of the sacred revelation, so long lost both to the people and the school!" His friend, Staupitz, was one of the principal persons connected with the university, and by him Luther was first invited to preach. The young professor shrunk from the proposal; he wished to confine himself to his academical functions. "It is not," he said, “a small thing to speak to men, in God's stead." Staupitz persisted, and Luther yielded.

In the square of Wittenberg was an old chapel, made of wood, thirty feet long, and twenty wide, nearly falling to ruin. An old pulpit, made of rude planks, and three feet high, received the preacher. It was in this poor chapel that the preaching of the Reformation commenced. "This building," says the contemporary of Luther, who relates the circumstance, * D'Aubigne.

[ocr errors]

'may well be compared to the stable where Christ was born,"-there his gospel was born again.

The Augustines made use of that chapel while their church was building; but the crowd of hearers which the preaching of Luther attracted, caused the council of Wittenberg to summon him to the Schloss Kirche, or cathedral of their town. There still exists the pulpit from which he afterwards preached; and to the door of that church he nailed his famous theses, or propositions, against the doctrine of indulgences.

"The fête of All Saints was a very important day at Wittenberg, and especially at the church, which the elector had built and filled with relics. On that day these relics, ornamented with gold, silver, and precious stones, were exhibited to the eyes of the people, who were astonished and dazzled by so much magnificence. Whoever on that day attended the church and confessed, received an indulgence. Luther, fully decided, repaired courageously on the evening of the 31st of October, 1517, All Saints' day, to that church where so vast a crowd of pilgrims assembled, and affixed his ninety-five propositions against indulgences, to its doors. Neither the elector, nor Staupitz, nor Spalatin, nor any of his most intimate friends had been informed of his design." Within that church Luther is buried, and a few feet from his tomb is that of his friend, the mild and learned Melancthon.

It was with a sense of profound emotion I stood over that tomb; a bronze tablet in the pavement of the church simply marks it,-a similar one that of Melancthon. One can hardly believe that the mighty voice which almost shook the world, is silent in that dwelling-place; that the frame which appeared formed for ages, which endured labours and watchings, journeyings and perils, fightings without and fears within, was appointed, like any other, to run its tiny race and return to the dust from whence it was taken. Oh! how unphilosophical at such a moment appears all scepticism! how resistlessly is the mind compelled to believe, that the powers so largely given were never meant to be limited to threescore years and ten, but to reach their maturity in that after-life in which length of days, even for ever and ever, shall be added unto us!

In going to this church from Luther's cell, we passed the house of Philip

« AnteriorContinuar »