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IFE on land is the antipodes of life at sea.

citizen rises to traverse the same streets, look upon the same buildings, and return at eve to the same

spot. This uniformity has a beauty for many minds ; some of our most stirring associations and much of our richest poetry arise from the strong mysterious love for the places where the boy has grown into the man, and where the circling thoughts of a whole life have concentrated the passionate energies. We invest the objects constantly around us with a portion of our being ; we intrust, as it were, our noblest thoughts to the keeping of the ancient trees, which were old when we were children. The rivulet where the wild flowers grew sixty years ago can talk to us of deeds and days long past.

The ancient house, where we first tried the patience of our worthy nurse, is as garrulous as an old man when he meets a schoolfellow after a lapse of fifty years. Now all these local associations, this poetry of place, and solemn music rising from things visible and tangible, springs


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