Part 10

I'll think of thee--I'll think of thee In every moment of grief or of glee; The memory will come of these fleeting hours, Like the scent that is wafted from distant flow'rs; Like the faint, sweet echo that lingers on When the tones that waken'd it are gone.

There's many a thought I may not tell, Hidden beneath the heart's deep swell; There's many a sweet and tender sigh Breath'd out when only God is nigh; And each familiar thing I see, Is blended with the thought of thee.

Thy form will be miss'd from the social hearth, Thy voice from the mingling tones of mirth; When the sound of music is poured along-- When my soul hangs entranced on the poet's song-- When history points from her glowing page, To the deathless deeds of a former age-- When my eye fills up and my heart beats high, I shall look in vain for thine answering eye.

When the winds are lulled in the quiet sky, And the sparkling waters go surging by, And the cheering sun invites to walk, I shall miss thine arm and thy pleasant talk: My rustling step--the leafless tree-- The very rock will speak of thee.

I'll think of thee when the sunset dyes Are glowing bright in the western skies; When the dusky shades of evening's light Are melting away into deeper night-- When the silvery moon looks bright above, Raising the tides of human love-- When the holy stars look bright and far, I'll think of thee--my _guiding star!_

When all save the beating heart is still, And the chainless fancy soars at will, When it lifts the dark veil from future years, And flutters and trembles with hopes and fears,-- When it turns to retrace the burning past, And the blinding tears come thick and fast-- And oh! when bending the humble knee At the throne of God--I will _pray_ for thee!

And wilt thou sometimes think of me, When thy thoughts from this stormy world are free? When thou turnest o'erwearied from toil and strife The warring passions of busy life, May a still, small whispering, speak to thee, Like a touch on thy heartstring--Love, think of me.

E.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

INVOCATION TO RELIGION.

Come blest Religion, meek-eyed maid, In all thy heavenly charms arrayed, Descend with healing in thy wing, And touch my heart while yet I sing.

Heaven's own child of simple truth, The stay of age, the guide of youth, All spotless, pure and undefiled, How blest are those on whom you've smiled.

Oh! come, as thou wert wont, and bless The widow and the fatherless-- Temper the wind to the shorn lamb, Pour on the wounded heart thy balm;

Strew softest flowers, where e're they stray, And pluck, oh! pluck the thorns away. Come like the good Samaritan, Bind up the sick and wounded man;

Not like the Priest thy love display-- Just look devout, and turn away. Oh! no--the bruised with kindness greet, And set the mourner on his feet.

Teach me with warm affections pure, That holy Fountain to adore, From whence proceeds or life or thrift-- The source of every perfect gift:

Teach me thy fear--thy grace impart, And twine thy virtues round my heart; With pity's dew suffuse my eye, And teach me heavenly charity--

That blessed love, which will not halt, Or stumble at a brother's fault; But with affection's tender care, Will still pursue the wanderer.

Oh! teach my heart enough to feel, For human woe and human weal. Not that mad zeal, which works by force, And poisons goodness, at its source;

But that mild, pure, persuasive love, Which thou hast brought us from above. Thro' thy fair fields, oh! fatal change, Let no distempered _maniac_ range,--

No frantic bigot spoil thy bowers, And blight thy pure and spotless flowers. Still, still, thou pure and heavenly dove, Still speed thy work of perfect love.

Pursue the pilgrim on his road, And oh! take off his heavy load. Peace whisper to the troubled breast, And give the weary mourner rest--

And when in that last awful hour, Death shall exert his fatal power, Oh! blunt the print of his keen dart, And sooth the pangs that rend the heart.

When the last vital throb shall cease, Oh! be then present, with thy peace: Then let thy healing grace be given To light and waft our souls to Heaven.

L.

_Pittsylvania_.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

BEAUTY AND TIME.

[Written under a vignette, representing a branch of roses with a scythe suspended over it, in a Lady's Album.]

Emblem of woman's beauty, This blooming rose behold! Time's scythe is hanging o'er it, While yet its leaves unfold.

Alas! that Time is ever To Beauty such a foe! How can she shun his power? How ward his withering blow?

Has she no art to foil him, And turn his scythe aside? Must she, who conquers others, To him yield up her pride?

Yes, yes, there is a conquest That Beauty gains o'er Time: Forget it not, ye fair ones, But prize the homely rhyme.

For every charm he pilfers From Beauty's form or face, Upon the mind's fair tablet, Some new attraction trace.

Thus, Time's assaults are fruitless, For, when her bloom is o'er, Woman, despite his malice, Is lovelier than before.

S[obelisk].

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

ANTICIPATION.

When life's last parting ray is shed, And darkness shrouds this pallid form; When I have laid this aching head, Secure from ev'ry earthly storm--

Oh! then how sweet it is to think That some fond heart yet warm and true, Will cherish still the severed link Which death's rude hand has snapt in two.

Who oft, at evening's pensive hour, From all the busy crowd will steal, To dress the vine and nurse the flower That deck my grave, with pious zeal.

And ling'ring there, will lightly tread, As fearful to disturb my sleep, And oft relieve the drooping head Upon her slender hand, and weep.

And oh! if in that world which rolls Sublime beyond this earthly sphere, That love still warms departed souls, Which once they fondly cherished here.

Oh! yes, if in such hour is given, And parted souls such scenes may see, At that pure hour I'd leave e'en heav'n, And kiss the heart that wept for me.

L.

_Pittsylvania_.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

HINTS TO STUDENTS OF GEOLOGY.

BY PETER A. BROWNE, ESQ.

NO. I.

The word "_science_," in its most comprehensive sense, means "knowledge." In its general acceptation, it is "knowledge reduced to a system;" that is to say, arranged in regular order, so that it can be conveniently taught, easily remembered, and readily applied to useful purposes. An _art_ is the application of knowledge to some practicable end,--to answer some useful or ornamental purpose. The sciences, are sometimes divided into the _abstract_ and the _natural_; by the former we are taught the knowledge of reasons and their conclusions; by the latter we are enabled to find out causes and effects, and to study the laws by which the material world is governed. To the abstract sciences belong, first, language, whether oral or written, including grammar, logic, &c.; secondly, notation, including arithmetic, algebra, geometry, &c. Philosophy inquires into the laws that regulate the phenomena of nature, whether in the material or immaterial world; it is generally divided into three classes, two of which are material and one immaterial. The material are, first, those which relate to number and quantity; secondly, those which relate to matter. The immaterial are those which relate to mind. The second class of the material is called "natural philosophy" or "physics," and sometimes the "physical sciences." Natural philosophy, in its most comprehensive sense, has for its province the laws of matter, whether organic or inorganic. These laws may regard either the motions or properties of matter, and hence arises their division into two branches--first, those which regard the _motions_ of matter, which are called _mechanics_; and secondly, those which regard the _properties_ of matter, which are subdivided, and have various names, according to the different objects of investigation. When the inquiry is confined to organized bodies and life, it is called physiology; which is again subdivided into zoology and botany. When it treats of inorganic matter, it is subdivided into chemistry, anatomy, medicine, mineralogy and geology. The principles of natural philosophy rest upon _observation_ and _experiment_. Observation is the noticing of natural phenomena at they occur, without any attempt to influence the frequency of their occurrence. Experiment consists in putting in action causes and agents, over which we have control, for the purpose of noticing their effects. From a comparison of a number of facts, obtained from either observation or experiment, the existence of general laws are proved. The laws of man are complicated; to understand their objects, we are often obliged to take the most circuitous routes; but the laws by which nature governs all her works are beautifully simple, and they are found to lead directly to the end she has in view. To study them, therefore, according to the rules that have been laid down, viz: from observation and experiment, is pleasant and easy. The principal difficulties that have arisen, are owing to the improper manner in which the subjects connected with natural history have often been treated. Natural philosophy regards what was the condition of natural bodies: but many persons exert the whole force of their genius to discover what they _might have been_. And as there is no department of natural philosophy into which this erroneous method of procedure has made greater inroads than geology, nor any science that has suffered so severely in such conflicts, it may not be amiss to appropriate half an hour to the inquiry whence this error has arisen; and, if possible, point out the best method of avoiding its dangerous tendency. The word geology is derived from two Greek words, signifying "the earth" and "reason;" and it is that science which teaches the structure of the crust of the earth, and ascertains its mineralogical materials, and the order in which they are disposed, and their relations to each other. Geognosy is used by the French as synonymous to geology, but in English is generally understood to be synonymous to cosmogony; which is an inquiry, or rather a speculation, as to the original formation or creation of the world; hence geognosy has sometimes been called "speculative geology." In pursuing the examinations to which geology leads, we reason from facts, as is done in other branches of natural science. The strata of the crust of the earth, owing to the disturbed manner in which we now find them, are in a great measure open to our examination; their composition, formation, deposition, eruption, depression, succession, and mineralogical contents, are all objects of sensation. The objects of geognosy (in the English sense of the word) are, on the other hand, for the most part, ideal, visionary and delusive. We are sensible that this earth exists and that it is material, and therefore we know that it must have been created. We know that it was not created by man, who hath not the power to add to it one single atom, nor diminish it by a single grain--so that it is manifest that it was created by a superior and omnipotent power; but by what process it was done is a mystery, and the more we seek to discover it the more we expose our ignorance. The geologist, like the mathematician, deals with the understanding; his advance is wary, admitting no conclusion until his premises are fully established. The professor of geognosy, on the contrary, addresses himself entirely to the imagination, and he delights in hypothesis and suppositions. The progress of the geologist is necessarily slow; he is like the patient miner, making his laborious but determined way into the solid rock: but the professor of geognosy will make a world or even a universe in an hour, for he deals in fancy and works in visionary speculations. The geologist delves into the bowels of the earth in search of useful metals, earths and combustible matters, which nature has kindly placed within his reach, and he strives to turn them to the best advantage in administering to the wants and increasing the comforts and convenience of his fellow creatures; but all the labors of the professor of geognosy are directed to discover a secret which appears to be hidden from human ken; a secret, the discovery of which would not, as far as we can judge, add any thing to the sum of human happiness. It excites our astonishment therefore, that so many persons of fine genius and brilliant talents should have wasted so much time in forming what are called theories of the earth, who might have been so much better employed in investigating the secondary causes by which the materials composing the crust of this earth obtained their present forms, and in examining the changes which those materials are daily undergoing. But so it is; the curiosity so natural to our species opens the way--the vanity of being supposed to have penetrated deeper than others into the abstruse mysteries of nature urges them forward--the silly pride of having in their own estimations discovered the hidden ways of Providence quickens their zeal; and, such is the love of the marvellous, that if they exhibit only a tolerable degree of ingenuity, and embellish their performances with a few flowers of rhetoric, they are sure to command more attention and praise from the general mass of readers, than can be extorted by the most laborious examination of nature's works. While Martin Lister was ridiculed by Doctor King for the laudable minuteness with which he described the different natural objects he met with in his journey through France, Mr. Thomas Burnet, for a fanciful theory of the earth, was extravagantly lauded by a writer in the Spectator. Saussure crossed the Alps in fourteen places; Humboldt traversed nearly one half of the habitable globe; Cuvier spent seven years in the study of comparative anatomy, as subservient to the study of fossil remains; and Hauy studied geometry for the sole purpose of obtaining a knowledge of crystalography; but neither of these distinguished philosophers have been able to win the laurels that have been heaped upon the brow of Count Buffon for a visionary hypothesis which he calls a theory of the earth.

The substitution of these hypotheses for knowledge, unfortunately, has not been confined to the early and dark ages of geology. One entirely new theory of the earth was published as lately as the year 1825--another in 1827--and a third in 1829. It is proper therefore that the student should be warned against their fascinating and baneful influence.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

ESSAY ON LUXURY.