Page images
PDF
EPUB

FLORAL FESTIVAL AT THE CRYSTAL

PALACE, SYDENHAM.

ATE English papers give accounts of a remarkable Horticultural Exhibition at the Crystal Palace, which has been removed from Hyde Park, and is to remain permanently at Sydenham.

The flower-show, it is said, was unequaled in the number of specimens exhibited, their rare beauty, and the admirable arrangement of the different classes, which the capabilities of the building perFor mitted the managers to achieve. the accommodation of these precious gems from Flora's casket, the two naves, a portion of the transept, and the long open corridor facing the terrace, had been laid under contribution; and on every side the eye was dazzled with a perfect sea of color, and the sense almost oppressed with the fragrant odors of the products of every clime. The splendid azalia-fit ornament for regal vestibule - glowed literally in piles upon the stands; and the stalwart cactus in all its varieties bristled in its best attire, attracting crowds of spectators by the strange forms which its skillful cultivators had caused it to assume. The pelargoniums were of unusual extent and variety. The orchid family-numerous as that of a Welsh curate, but far more gayly clad-was well represented; and the innumerable tribe of geraniums contributed delicate little gems that sparkled in every convenient corner. The rose -the queen of flowers-the theme of the poet in every clime, and the chartered inamorata of the nightingale in the sunny land of Hafiz-sent representatives fit, though few-the breezes of the last month having been too rough in their wooing for the delicate texture of its corolla. Modest pansies twinkled in trim order; while the gaudy calceolaria flared like a rich burgher's wife in all the splendor of its summer finery. Beauty there was in abundance-grace of form, glow of color, and delicacy of fragrance.

As to the visitors to this great fête, the Illustrated News remarks:

.

"We have often heard of the great shilling public, and a great shilling crowd may be collected almost anywhere; but here, a great guinea public awoke from its aristocratic lassitude, pouring itself in thousands upon thousands into the great conservatory. Thirty thousand people to get up one fine morning in one great city, and pay a guinea each to see a flower

show, was an event which could not have happened anywhere out of London, and the fact says more for the pecuniary resources of the capital of the world than could be conveyed by the most labored statistical table that ever emanated from the muddled brain of political economist. There they were, hustling each other, as if at the pit door of a theater, every man looking as if his check for a thousand or so would not cause surprise at his banker's."

Among other attractions on the occasion referred to was the playing of the fountains, at which John Bull seems disposed to grumble, because they do not equal those of his French neighbors at Versailles. The News says:—

"The Crystal Palace Company promised in their prospectus that they would eclipse Versailles; but they certainly have not done so as

yet, nor, judging from the appearance of their still incomplete works, are they ever likely to do so. The display of Saturday was from the upper range of fountains; and, as far as it went, had an exceedingly pleasing effect. The jets were of a fair altitude, had a steady and continuous flow, and the play was kept up for nearly an hour without intermission. But they were merely so many gigantic squirts all going together, without the sea and river gods, the Tritons, and other poetic forms that give such infinite and grotesque variety to the Grandes Eaux. At Versailles, the visitor wanders through endless park-like alleys, surprised at every turn by some new device in water, their until at last he comes to the great Basin of beauty and extent culminating as he goes along, Neptune,' the triumph of the artist, where the sovereign of the deep, enthroned in the center of a vast platform, keeps court, surrounded by the lesser marine deities, and all pour forth in an innumerable variety of jets and streams; in short, a complete and beautiful design in water, which could hardly be realized by those who never saw anything beyond the monotonous

upright projection of the fluid which formed the display of Saturday last, and seems to be the only thing contemplated in the general design. The Sydenham fountains, then, will not eclipse Versailles; our French friends need not fear the fading of their watery laurels; but they will form a very important addition to the other attractions of the place, and, being the only thing of the kind in England, may possibly draw enough of visitors on their own account to justify the enormous expense of their erection and maintenance. Their gala-days, it is true, will be limited in number, for there is nearly one-third of every summer in this country in which the suggestion of artificial waterworks, as an amusement, would be considered an exceedingly unkind cut' by the patrons of that truly English institution, the waterproof umbrella; but, when the day is very hot, and the company very numerous, the pipes all in order, and the aquatic purveyors sufficiently liberal in their supply, there is reason to hope that the fountains at Sydenham will form a welcome addition to the amusements of its fashionable visitors."

[merged small][graphic][ocr errors][subsumed][merged small][merged small][merged small]
[blocks in formation]

66

Safe from this scene of terror, they journey on, comforting each other. They pass rapidly by the temptations of Byends, Demas, and their comrades, but meet with another alarming scene, "a sudden and amazing sight," which they reason about with anxious concern. It is the petrified body of Lot's wife, with the admonitory inscription, "Remember Lot's wife."

Bethinking them of their manifold perils, they converse tremblingly on the subject.

"Let us," says Christian, "take notice of what we see here, for our help for time to come. This woman escaped one judgment, for she fell not by the destruction of Sodom; yet she was destroyed by another; -as we see, she is turned into a pillar of salt."

the judgment which overtook her did make her an example within sight of where they are; for they cannot choose but see her, did they but lift up their eyes."

"It is a thing to be wondered at," rejoins Christian, "and it argueth that their hearts are grown desperate in the case; and I cannot tell who to compare them to so fitly as to them that pick pockets in the presence of the judge, or that will cut purses under the gallows. It is said of the men of Sodom that they

were sinners exceedingly, (Gen. xiii, 10– 13.) because they were sinners before the Lord, that is, in his eyesight, and notwithstanding the kindnesses that he had showed them; for the land of Sodom was now like the Garden of Eden heretofore. This provoked him the more to jealousy, and made their plague as hot as the fire of the Lord out of heaven could make it. And it is most rationally to be concluded, that such, even such as these are, that shall sin in the sight, yea, and that too in despite of such examples that are set continually before them to caution them to the contrary, must be partakers of severest judgments." "Doubtless," says Hopeful, thou hast said the truth; but what a mercy is it that neither thou, but especially I, am not made myself this example! This ministereth occasion to us to thank God, to fear before him, and always to remember Lot's wife."

[graphic]

MEADOW OF LILIES.

"True," Hopeful replies, "and she may be to us both caution and example caution, that we should shun her sin, or a sign of what judgment will overtake such as shall not be prevented by this caution. So Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, with the two hundred and fifty men that perished in their sin, did also become a sign or example to others to beware, (Num. xxvi, 9, 10;) but above all, I muse at one thing, to wit, how Demas and his fellows can stand so confidently yonder to look for that treasure, which this woman but for looking behind her after (for we read not that she stepped one foot out of the way) was turned into a pillar of salt; specially since

[ocr errors]

And now, after their perilous escapes and melancholy talks, dawns before them the scene of beauty and repose-the river of the water of life and its tranquil meadow of lilies. God giveth his beloved rest.

"I saw then," says the unrivaled old dreamer, "that they went on their way to a pleasant river, which David the king

but John, the (Psa. lxv, 9; Now their way

called the river of God, river of the water of life. Rev. xxii; Ezek. xlvii.) lay just upon the bank of the river; here, therefore, Christian and his companion walked with great delight; they drank also of the water of the river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits; besides, on the banks of this river, on either side, were green trees, that bore all manner of fruit; and the leaves of the trees were good for medicine; with the fruit of these trees they were also much delighted; and the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits and other diseases that are incident to those that heat their blood by travels. On either side of the river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with lilies, and it was green all the year long. In this meadow they lay down and slept; for here they might lie down safely. (Psa. xxiii; Isa. xiv, 30.) When they awoke, they gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank again of the water of the river, and then lay down again to sleep. Thus they did several days and nights. Then they sang :—

'Behold ye how these crystal streams do glide (To comfort pilgrims) by the highway side; The meadows green, besides their fragrant smell Yield dainties for them: and he that can tell What pleasant fruit, yea leaves, these trees do yield,

Will soon sell all, that he may buy this field.'

"So when they were disposed to go on, (for they were not as yet at their journey's end.) they ate and drank, and departed."

But even here the painter forgets not the power of contrast. Shadows hang in the background of the picture. Doubting Castle immediately looms up before the travelers. Even spiritual joys cannot last always, and would probably be hurtful without qualifying trials. The way out of the pleasant meadow is uncertain. They take the wrong path, and the next picture presents them in the "dark dungeon" of the Castle of Despair, and here they lay "without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or any lights, or any to ask how they did." Though "they trembled greatly, and poor Christian fell into a swound," yet they escape at last; and then bursts on the view that finest of all Bunyan's contrasts, "the Delectable Mountains." "I saw also in my dream that the shepherds * * being pleased

* looked very lovingly upon them,

[merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small]

Where are the balmy mornings
Of the genial summer time,
When the wilding bee
Hummed merrily

In the dewy and perfumed limeWhen the lily stood like a silver spear, With diamonds crusted o'er,

And the odors that lay

In the swathes of hay,

On its wings the soft wind bore?

The blackbird and thrush are silent,
The berries are ripe and red,
On bush and tree,

Where, flush and free,

The roses of June were shed. Rank weeds of the east wind's sowing, In the frost-dews born and nourish'd, Spring thickly up

Where the delicate cup

Of some summer darling flourish'd.

The yellow corn is garner'd,

The meadows are bare once more,
And safely stored

Is the juicy hoard
Which the orchard branches bore:
And I hear a voice in the moaning
Of the wind at the close of day,
A sigh from the woods
And the chafing floods,
That speaketh of swift decay.

Ah! many an eye looks sadly
On the summer's faded track,
That shall see no more,
When the storms are o'er,
And the golden days come back.
O, when shall we reach that country
Where no blight can touch the flowers,
But light and bloom,

Beyond the tomb,

Shall evermore be ours?

MARY C. F. MONCK.

[graphic][subsumed][merged small]

HAIL, SABBATH! thee I hail, the poor man's | Instruction, admonition, comfort, peace,

day;

The pale mechanic now has leave to breathe
The morning air, pure from the city's smoke;
While, wandering slowly up the river side,
He meditates on Him, whose power he marks
In each green tree that proudly spreads the
bough,

As in the tiny dew-bent flowers that bloom
Around its roots; and while he thus surveys,
With elevated joy, each rural charm,

He hopes, yet fears presumption in the hope,
That heaven may be one Sabbath without end.
But now his steps a welcome sound recalls.
Solemn the knell, from yonder ancient pile,
Fills all the air, inspiring joyful awe:
Slowly the throng moves o'er the tomb-paved
ground;

The aged man, the bowed down, the blind
Led by the thoughtless boy, and he who

breathes

With pain, and eyes the new-made grave well pleased;

These, mingled with the young, the gay, approach

The house of God; these, spite of all their ills,
A glow of gladness feel: with silent praise
They enter in. A placid stillness reigns,
Until the man of God, worthy the name,
Arise and read the anointed shepherd's lays.
His locks of snow, his brow serene, his look
Of love, it speaks, "Ye are my children all;
The gray-hair'd man, stooping upon his staff,
As well as he, the giddy child, whose eye
Pursues the swallow flitting thwart the dome."
Loud swells the song: O how that simple song,
Though rudely chanted, how it melts the heart,
Commingling soul with soul in one full tide
Of praise, of thankfulness, of humble trust!
Next comes the unpremeditated prayer,
Breathed from the inmost heart, in accents low,
But earnest. Alter'd is the tone: to man
Are now address'd the sacred speaker's words.
VOL. VII.-27

Flow from his tongue: O, chief, let comfort

flow!

It is most needed in this vale of tears.
Yes, make the widow's heart to sing for joy;
The stranger to discern the Almighty's shield
Held o'er his friendless head; the orphan
child

Feel, 'mid his tears, I have a Father still!
"Tis done. But hark that infant querulous
voice,

Plaint not discordant to a parent's ear;
And see the father raise the white-robed babe
In solemn dedication to the Lord.
The holy man sprinkles with forth-stretch'd
hand

The face of innocence; then earnest turns,
And prays a blessing in the name of Him
Who said, "Let little children come to me:
Forbid them not."

It is not only in the sacred fane
That homage should be paid to the Most
High;

There is a temple, one not made with hands-
The vaulted firmament. Far in the woods,
Almost beyond the sound of city chime,
At intervals heard through the breezeless air;
When not the limberest leaf is seen to move,
Save where the linnet lights upon the spray;
When not a floweret bends its little stalk,
Save where the bee alights upon the bloom:
There wrapt in gratitude, in joy, and love,
The man of God will pass the Sabbath noon-
Silence his praise; his disembodied thoughts,
Loosed from the load of words, will high ascend
Beyond the empyrean.

Nor yet less pleasing at the heavenly throne,
The Sabbath-service of the shepherd-boy.
In some lone glen, where every sound is lull'd
To slumber, save the tinkling of the rill,
Or bleat of lamb, or hovering falcon's cry,
Stretch'd on the sward, he reads of Jesse's

son;

« PreviousContinue »