« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
8. PHINEAS FINN. Part XII.
9. CAMEOS FROM ENGLISH HISTORY. By the Author of Heir of Redclyffe,
10. PORTRAITS OF CELEBRATED WOMEN,
11. PROBABLE RENEWAL OF THE RECIPROCITY TREATY, Economist, 12. THE NORTH POLAR EXPEDITIONS,
13. THE GLOBE EDITION OF BURNS, 14. JOHN WILKES,
15. THE CLASS FEELING OF IRISH TENANTS,
16. THE GREAT ECLIPSE,
17. A PARCEL POST,
18. Sĩ JOHN FRANKLIN'S EXPEDITION,
19. CAPT. HALL AND THE FRANKLIN EXPEDITION,
20. THE STARS IN THEIR COURSES FOUGHT AGAINST SIS
21. DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS WITH MEXICO,
22. RICOLLECTIONS OF MY LIFE. By Maximilian,
CLOUDS AND THEIR COMBINATIONS,
Glasgow Christian News and
N. Y. Evening Post,
159 | MYTHS OF THE MIDDLE Ages, .
. 159 CURIOUS RESTORATION OF SIGHT,
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY
LITTELL & GAY, BOSTON.
JUST PUBLISHED AT THIS OFFICE:
OCCUPATIONS OF A RETIRED LIFE, by EDWARD GARRETT. Price 50 cents.
1 130 WAS GOTT THUT, DAS IST WOHL GETHAN, 130
159 . 192
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION.
FOR EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. But we do not prepay postage on less than a year, nor where we have to pay commission for forwarding the money.
Price of the First Series, in Cloth, 36 volumes, 90 dollars.
Any Volume Bound, 8 dollars; Unbound, 2 dollars. The sets, or volumes, will be sent at the expense of the publishers.
PREMIUMS FOR CLUBS.
For 5 new subscribers ($40.), a sixth copy; or a set of HORNE'S INTRODUCTION TO THE BIBLE, unabridged, in 4 large volumes, cloth, price $10; or any 5 of the back volumes of the LIVING AGE, in numbers, price $10.
From The Sunday Magazine.
WAS GOTT THUT, DAS IST WOHL GETHAN. IN DARKNESS.
[This hymn was written at Jena, by Samuel Rodigast, in 1675, for a sick friend, who com
posed the melody to which it is set.] THROUGH the wood where the serpent lies hidden
asleep, If indeed he can sleep when a mortal is near;
What God doth, it is all well done Up the way that is narrow, the path that is
His will upright abiding; steep,
Since he has traced my course begun With no guide for my footsteps, no help for
I will go on confiding. my fear,
My God is he Only this — that He knoweth the way that I
Who holdeth me, tread,
I will not turn complainer And His banner of crimson is over my head.
At such a wise Ordainer,
From The Spectator. the gigantic Scaur of Eig, looking down on NOTES FROM THE SCOTTISH ISLES.
the low and grassy line of Muck, which
stretches like some green monster at its I. - FIRST FLIGHT.
feet. Beyond all these, peeping between WHEN the little cutter Tern, agile and Rum and Eig, pencilled in faint and ghostly beautiful as the sea swallow from which she peaks bued like the heron's wings, are the takes her name, weighed anchor in Tober- wondrous Coolin Hills of Skye – ghastlily mory Harbour, and began to work west- beautiful, born of the volcano on ward through the Sound of Mull towards strange morning in the age of mighty births. Ardnamurcban, the long swell coming in The eye seeks to go no further. It rests on from the Atlantic was beginning to whiten those still heights, and in a moment the perunder a stiff breeze from the north-west ; fect sense of solitude glides into the soul and it became a question whether or not thought seems stationary, a solemn greyshe should fold down her wings and run ness brooding over life subdued. back to her nest in the bay.
For a sight such as that words are the We looked wistfully to windward, and merest pencil scratches, and for the feeling began to doubt our wisdom in venturing so awakened by such sights there is no kind far on board so tiny a craft - seven tons of symbol at all. In trying accurately to register, open aft, and rigged with a boom describe nature, one glides at once into the and racing mainsail sure to bring her on her mood of the cicerone; the moment of enbroadside in stormy weather. The gloomy joyment has passed, and the pain of explaprognostics, both of fair-weather yachtsmen nation has begun. But to see and feel such and hard-weather seamen, were sharply re- things to the true spiritual height, let no membered, as the big rollers began to break man stand on the paddle-box of a steamknee-deep over our bow, and the strong boat or on the carefully washed deck of a wind to lay the decks under the very edge big vessel. The still power of waters is of the cockpit “ cooming." But the Viking not quite to be felt until the very body and in the blood prevailed. A third reef was blood have known their stormy might; and taken in the mainsail, and the little craft bow better know their might than by slipping was urged on; and scarcely had she beaten out upon the waste in as tiny a vessel as can a mile and a half to windward, when the live thereon ? The smaller the craft, the fewbreeze died suddenly away, and the waters, er the fellow-beings at hand, the intenser the washing troublously, grew weaker and weak- enjoyment both of storin and calm. It is er, till the tops of the long heaving rollers a proud pleasure to dash like a sea-fowl were almost calm. A light air and a strong under the very mouth of the tempest, contide soon carried the Tern outside of Ard- scious of the life in one's veins, drunken as namurchan, where, dripping and quivering it were with the excitement and uncertainty like a thing of life, she has paused, nearly of the hour, – awake to every quiver of becalmed, with the lonely islands whither she the little yielding creature under whose is bound opening one by one on the dim and wings you fly, feeling its panting breath misty sea.
come and go with your own, till perchance To the south lies Mull in mist, piling her its wings are folded down close, and it swims dull vast hills out above the line of break- with you for very life before the elements ing foam; while out to the south-west, cairn which follow screaming in its track. After after cairn, looming through the waters, a flight so fine, the soul is ready for strange show where barren Coll is weltering in the calm waters and ghostly peaks, fit to feel gloomy waste. To the far west, only cloud the pathos and sweetness of things at rest, resting on cloud, above the dim unbroken ending with that dim chill stir which we call water-line of the Atlantic; but northward the thought of God. In this life, and perall brightens, for the storm has passed thence haps in lives beyond, there seems need of with the wind, and the sunlight has crept some such preparation for great spiritual out, cold and clear, on craggy Rum, whose peace; and it is therefore a poor soul which beights stretch grey and ghostly against a has not felt some very rough weather. cloudless sky. Hard by, in shadow, looms The British lover of beauty wanders far,
but we question if he finds anywherë a pic-| the shepherd on his hill, the lobster fisher ture more exquisite than opens out, vista in the quiet bay, the matron grinding her after vista, among these wondrous Isles of corn and weaving her petticoat with instruthe North. Here year after year they lie ments hundreds of years “ behind the age ;" almost neglected, seen only by the hard- and all these moving against so mighty a eyed trader and the drifting seaman; for background, and speaking a speech stranger that mosaic being, the typical tourist, sel- to common ear than any modern tongue of dom quits the inner chain of mainland lakes, Europe - a speech old as the hills, and full save, perhaps, when a solitary example, of their mysterious music and power. Here dull and bored, oozes out of the mist at surely was something for the eye and heart Broadford or Portree, takes a rapid glare to rest upon, a life subtly colouring ours at the chilly Coolins, and shivering with en- through many generations, yet preserved thusiasm hurries back to the South. The quite fresh and unchanged by the spirit of heights of Rum, the kelp caverns of Islay, the waters, a life far more surely part of us the fantastic cliffs of Eig, scarcely ever draw and ours than that of Florence, or Paris, the sight-seer; Canna lies unvisited in the or Wiesbaden. solitary sea; and as for the outer Hebrides To lie becalmed in the little Tern off the
from Stornoway to Barra Head — they terrible Rhu, the Ardnamurcban, most dwell ever lonely in a mist, warning off all dreaded by those best acquainted with its fair-weather wanderers. A little, a very mighty tides and fierce waters, is by no little, has been said about these isles; but means unmixed pleasure. Yonder to all ordinary people they are less familiar stretches the ocean, dead still now, but likethan Vienna, and further off than Calcutta. ly to be roused in an instant into frenzy ;
Forbidding in their stern beauty, isolated and, still more to be dreaded, half a mile and sea-surrounded, they possess no super- on the starboard hand, the gloomy cliffs of ficial fascinations; their power is one that the point seem coming nearer, as the fitful grows, their spell is that of the glamour eddies of the tide swing the vessel this way holding only the slowly selected soul. Not and that. Out go the long oars, and slowly, merely because these isles are so strangely, very slowly, the Tern draws from the shore. darkly lovely, but because we owe to them Two long hours of hard pulling, with scarce80 much that is noblest and best in the heart ly any perceptible progress, is not altoof modern life, did it seem fitting to attempt gether desirable, even in the presence of some faint pictures of their scenery and a scene so fair, and one whistles for the their people; and to wander from island to wind more and more impatiently. At last island, mixing freely with poor folk, seeing the waters ripple black to northward, the and noting what may afterwards pass into huge mainsail-boom swings over with a noble nourishment for the heart, is the er- heavy jerk, and in a minute the Tern flashes rand of those on board the little Tern. The ahead full of new life, and the sky brightens reality soon exceeded all expectation. As over a fresh and sparkling sea, and with the eye became more and more accustomed hearts leaping, all canvas set, and the little to hill and sea, as the first mood of awe and kittiwakes screaming in our track, we leave pleasure at the weird vistas wore away, hu- the mighty Rhu behind. man figures, group after group, before in- We are four, – the skipper, the pilot, the visible, loomed slowly into view: the steward, and the cook, - only the seaman kelp-burner moving blackly through the being a sailor by profession. The skipper, smoke of his fire on the savage shore, the to describe him briefly, is a wild, hirsute herring fishers tossing at their nets, while being, faintly bespattered with the sciences, the midnight sea gleams phosphorescent be- fond of the arts, but generally inclined (as low and the clouds blacken in the lift above; Walt Whitman puts it) to “ loafe and inthe wild, wandering women, foul with the vite his soul.” His hobby is his vessel, and fish they are gutting, shrieking like the his hate is "society," especially Scotch socloud of gulls that bover over their heads; ciety, whatever that may mean. The pilot the quaint country folk streaming down to is of another turn, a Gaelic fisher, deep in the little ports on holidays and fair-days; knowledge of small craft, and full of the dreamy reasonings of his race. As for the deepens the solitude. Quite fearless and steward, he is a nondescript, a mooner on uns
insuspicious, they float within oar's length the skirts of philosophy, fleshly, yet tender, of the vessel, diving swiftly at the last mowhose business it is to take notes by flood ment, and coolly emerging again a few and fell, and cater for the kitchen with rod yards distant. Only the cormorant keeps and gun. What the steward provides is aloof, safe out of gun range. Rank and prepared to perfection by the cook in a den unsavoury as this glutton is, his flesh is esabout the size of an ordinary cupboard, teemed by fishermen, and he is so often and served up in a cabin where Tom Thumb hunted, that he is ever on the watch for might have stood upright and a shortish danger. man have just lain at full length. Over Low, undulating, grassy, yonder is Muck the sleeping accommodation we draw a - the Gaelic Elanna-Muchel, or Isle of veil.
Swine Buchanan's Insula Pecorum. It As the Tern flies nearer to the mighty is green and fertile, an oasis in the waste. Scaur of Eig, a beetling precipice towering Muck, Eig, Rum, and Canna form collect1,300 and odd feet above the sea, the sun ively the Parish of Small Isles, with the is sloping far down westward behind the pastor of which Hugh Miller took his welllofty peaks of Rum; and in deep purple known geologic cruise. It must be no shadow, over the starboard bow, the rugged lamb-hearted man who carries the Gospel lines of the mainland, from Loch Moidart over these waters during winter weather. to the Sound of Sleat, open up, gloam Lower, deeper sinks the sun, till he is strangely, and die ridge after ridge away. totally hidden behind the hills. Haskeval The distant Coolins grow yet more ghostly and Hondeval, the two highest peaks of against the delicate barebell of the sky, Rum, throw their shadows over the drifting catching on their peaks the roseate airs of Tern, while from some solitary bay inland sunset; and the mountains of Rum deepen the oyster-catchers and sealarks whistle in more and more in under-shadow, as the the stillness. A night mist coming from light flames keener on their rounded heights. the west deepens the gloaming, and we look The wind falls again, faint airs come and go, somewhat anxiously after a barbour. Someand the low sound of the sea becomes full where, not far away,' below the two peaks, of a strange hush. As we draw close under lies a little loch with safe anchorage; but the lee of Rum, the still sea is darkened on no eyes, except those of a native, could every side in patches as of dristing sea- pick it out in the darkness. We drift weed, and there is still a flutter as of innu- slowly upward on the flood tide, eagerly merable little wings. Hither and thither, eyeing every nook and cranny in the shadskimining the water in flocks of eight or owy mass at our side. Just as the day ten, dart the beautiful shearwaters (puffini dawns, we spy the mouth of the loch, and Anglorum of the ornithologists), seizing launching the long oars, make wearily their prey from the sea with their tender towards it. But the anchor is soon down, feet as they fly; while under them, wher- all cares are over for the time being, and, ever the eye rests, innumerable marrots after pipes and grog, all hands turn in for a and guillemots float, dive, and rise. All nap. these have their nests among the blackly shaded cliffs close at hand. The black cormorants are there too, wary and solitary;
From The Spectator. and the gulls, from the lesser black-backed to the little kittiwake, gather thickly over
ST, ALBAN'S TEACHING FOR CHILDREN. one black patch of floating birds astern,
[TO THE EDITOR OF THE “SPECTATOR.") where doubtless the tiny herring are dart- SIR, — The complaints of indignant Proing in myriads. Save for the fitful cry of testants, fresh from the incense of “ High the kittiwakes, or the dull croaking scream Celebration,” are at this period of the year of a solitary tern beating up and down over as plentiful as even letters on sermons, and the vessel, all is quite still, and the pres- far more amusing. It is not, however, as ence of these countless little fishers only an angry Evangelical that I send you this