BRITTON FERRY.
This village is much resorted to, on account of its beautiful situation; and many a white-washed cottage straggles through the hamlet. The plantations of the Earl of Jersey, late Lord Vernon’s, are well disposed, and edge the water’s brink: the river is constantly filled with vessels, whose gay streamers glittering to the sun-beam, present to the eye a constant moving object. The richness and beauty of this spot is scarcely to be equalled in all the principality: and the climate is so mild, that myrtles, magnolias, fuschias, and other tender exotics, grow luxuriantly in the open air. The church-yard is very beautiful, and beneath the shade of its trees a friend of the Editor of the present Edition wrote the following lines:
When death has stolen our dearest friends away,
Some tears to shed is graceful:—but to mourn
Loudly and deeply, that their pains are o’er,
Is but to prove, we lov’d ourselves far more,
Than e’er we cherish’d, lov’d, or valued them.
To bear misfortune with an equal mind;
To mount the aspiring pinnacle of fame,
With a warm heart, and temperate resolve;
To curb the rage that prompts to wild revenge;
To pay the malice of an envious throng
With pity and forgiveness; and to weep,
With tears of joy, that our most “useful” friend
Has paid the debt Eternity demands,
Alike bespeak nobility of mind,
And the proud hope, that heaven’s decrees are just.
Stranger! of peasant or of royal line;
Treasure these thoughts, and Autumn’s yellow leaf
Shall never fill thine aged eyes with tears!
Having crossed the Ferry, we proceeded on the sands to