afflicted mother and her child. We left the hut immediately; for he determined that evening to send by his servant some cordials and medicines, and the next day to remove them to some more suitable accommodations. "I thank you," said he to me as we were returning, "for this opportunity of relieving the distressed. Your bounty prevented me from first administering aid; but I will now take the charge of them upon myself. Little did I think that such extreme misery was so near my dwelling." With what pleasure did I listen to these sentiments of humanity. He continued: "You must be my guest for several days; I am happy that my circumstances enable me, not only to assist the wretched, but to be hospitable to the stranger." I thanked him for his friendly offer, and acceded to his request. On arriving at the house, he instantly dispatched one of his servants with what he had promised for the infant and its suffering parent, and afterwards conducted me to an apartment, where I found an aged lady, his sister, and two gentlemen, on a visit from England. When the ceremony of introduction was over, I made some inquiries concerning the time of his residence in this agreeable retreat. In answer to this, and some other questions, I learnt that about three years ago he lost his wife, with whom he formerly resided at Bath; that after this afflicting deprivation he had lived little in the world, and that the romantic scenery of this part of Caernarvonshire, and its vicinity to Snowdon, had determined him to choose this mansion for his residence during the greatest part of the year. I had by this time more narrowly examined the countenance of Mr. Wilson. He appeared to be near forty years of age. The general features of his face were highly prepossessing; an unusual vivacity sparkled in his eye, and dignity and elevation of mind appeared in his whole deportment. To this was added great sweetness of disposition, which softened some other shades, and gave an attraction to the whole. His conversation, during my stay with him, evinced very superior intelligence, and the transactions of that evening had displayed the best feelings of the heart. I thought amidst the cheerfulness which appeared in his general behaviour, I could trace something like melancholy in his countenance, and I was not deceived. Several incidents occurred which occasioned him to speak of her, who was once the "delight of his eyes." I recollected particularly one instance, which showed to what "point of rest" his mind again and again recurred, and how the influence of grief directed and applied every allusion. We had been talking of friendship, and in one part of the conversation I mentioned the ode of Horace to the ship which carried Virgil, as a warm effusion of friendship. "Ah!" said he, and while he said it the tear glistened in his eye-"Amelia was more than the half of my soul.""* Very pleasantly did my time pass away in the society of Mr. Wilson, in the enjoyment of the most refined pleasures; and I had prolonged my visit far beyond my intention, before I mentioned my design of ascending Snowdon before sunrise. He told me "that he had frequently walked to the top, but that he would willingly accompany me," and my last morning he fixed upon for the excursion. We arose two hours before the sun, for we were two miles distant from the mountain, and it was necessary that we should be at the summit before the break of day. We soon arrived at the foot, the moon had long since set, and as we ascended, the darkness increased. A solemn stillness prevailed, which was now and then interrupted by the rustling of the groves. The birds of the morning had not begun their matins, nor did the stroke of the woodman resound from the mountains. We reached the top of Snowdon before the darkness was dispersed, and for some time gazed with pleasing awe on the extended arch above us. I never before observed such brilliancy in the stars; and mentioning the circumstance to Mr. Wilson, reminded me "that we had now passed through nearly four thousand feet of atmospheric air."† We had not long conversed on the elevation of the mountain, when the dawn faintly glimmered on the eastern hills. With rapture I beheld the approach of day; the twilight gradually brightened, and I could now discern almost the extent of the visible horizon. In a short time the sun arose. * Et serves meæ dimidium animæ.-Hor: Lib. i. od. iii. + The perpendicular height of Snowdon is 1240 yards. "The powerful king of day Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, Swiftly did the shadows flee away, and the "lesser lights of heaven” retire as he ascended. But what pen can describe the scene which Thompson has painted ? My companion was absorbed in contemplation; he had frequently beheld the same prospect; and though the emotions of novelty had subsided, he still felt-but he felt more than what the prospect inspired. Past feelings rushed upon his remembrance, and in all the softness of melancholy he thus addressed me: "You would perhaps think me gloomy and dejected as we ascended the hill, but I know you will pardon me. About seven years ago, for the first time, I walked to this spot with the same design as you have done; but then my Amelia was with me; she leaned on my arm, and from this very spot, where we now stand, we beheld yonder sun rise from beyond those same mountains. It was a morning like this; she also, as you have done, recited those lines in Thompson-I still hear her voice. Oh, Edwin! "Of joys departed, ne'er to be recalled, But I find a pleasure in my pain, and the indulgence of it alleviates my sorrow." My attention was now turned from the scenery around me. I wished to divert his mind from the train of painful associations which our situations had revived; but there was a kind of sacredness in his grief which repressed my attempt; besides I felt the force of his concluding remark, and therefore remained for some time a silent spectator, allowing him to pursue his mournfully soothing recollections. The sun was now shining in his strength, and the face of nature wore the most lovely aspect. To the north an extensive vale, whose utmost extremity I could not perceive, lay stretched at our feet. The mountains of Merionethshire bounded the southern prospect. Towards the west I could plainly see the island of Anglesea and the Irish channel; and the east presented to my view the route I had pursued and the hills of Denbighshire. In the north-east I faintly discerned the hills of Cheshire; at that moment the village of Alvanley and the house of my father rushed to the view of my delighted imagination. After a long season employed in pleasing contemplation, we descended by a very circuitous path, and soon after arrived at the house of Mr. Wilson. I immediately prepared for my departure with feelings of lively regret, having previously obtained a promise from my generous friend that the following summer he would visit the village of Alvanley. Never while memory holds her seat shall I forget the amiable Wilson. I now proceeded towards Caernarvon, where I arrived that evening. The only place of importance which I visited was the castle where the first Prince of Wales was born. The name of Edward the First recalled to my view the bards of Cambria, and their cruel slaughter by that tyrannical king. I could scarcely refrain uttering, as I entered the castle, "Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!" In this town I left my horse, and on the following day crossed the channel which separates the island of Anglesea from the main land. After a short passage I landed, and commenced a pedestrian. It was now my intention to visit all the places of note in the island, especially those places where any remains of Druidical institutions were to be found. I anticipated with lively feelings the pleasure I should receive during my excursion; and my expectations were so sanguine, and the impressions made upon my mind by historic narratives so vivid, that on the first night after my arrival I had the following remarkable dream. I imagined myself to be a stranger on the island at the time when the religion and customs of the Druids were prevalent. One day when wandering near a long extended grove of oaks, I was met by a venerable Druid, habited in the robes of his order, who thus addressed me: "Young man, curiosity, I presume, has led you to visit the island of Mona, the seat of learning and religion. Listen to my instructions, and be wise. We worship one Supreme Deity, whose name is Esus; the symbol of his presence is the oak. He disdains the worship of spacious temples, but wherever the sacr planted there is his residence. His altars are strew มม leaves, and encircled by its branches. The fruit of the oak, the mistletoe, is the gift of the Divinity. We always seek it with anxiety, and hail it with rapture when we find it. This day is the sixth of the moon, and and we are now about to sacrifice to the Deity, in praise of the discovery of the mistletoe. Follow me to yonder grove, but first place around thy neck this chain in token of thy dependence, for without it none can enter the sacred recess. I then followed the Druid to the solemnity. Two white bulls were prepared for sacrifice under an oak, to which they were fastened by their horns. The Arch-druid then ascended the tree, and with a consecrated golden knife cropped the mistletoe, which he received in his robes, amidst the rapturous exclamations of the surrounding crowds. Having secured the plant he descended, and prepared for the sacrificial rites. When these were performed I quitted the scene, and was returning thoughtfully musing on what I had seen, when the same Druid who had before accosted me, addressed me in the following words. FILIAL AFFECTION OF AN AFRICAN BOY. No people can exhibit greater tenderness of disposition, or more that is endearing in the various relationships of life, than do our black and coloured brethren. Their character is distinguished by some features unusually amiable; by a peculiar warmth of the social affections, and by a close adherence to all the ties of kindred. Filial dutifulness and attachment are remarkable traits in their character. "What kind of a woman was your mother?" said a slavemaster some years ago in a familiar mood to a fine African boy whom he had purchased. The boy's heart writhed beneath the associations it awakened. "Come, tell me," said the white man, who regarded the black man as a brute only fit to be insulted, "what kind of a woman was she?- -was she tall ?-was she thin ?—was she old?—was she beautiful?" The boy lifted up "How could a his glistening eyes, and in broken accents said, mother but be beautiful in the eyes of her child ?" A Phillippo's Jamaica. |