CHAPTER XIX.
Rio de Janeiro.
June 20th.—On entering this port on the 16th inst., we all felt anew the exciting influence of its wild and magnificent scenery, and were constrained again to pronounce it unrivalled, by any thing seen by us in any part of the world.
The last report of the health of the place which had reached us at Montevideo, was favorable. The yellow fever, after having prevailed a second season as an epidemic, was said to have disappeared. Our apprehensions on this point were excited for a time, however, as we came in, by perceiving the man-of-war anchorage to be entirely deserted. In place of three or four different squadrons, English, French, Brazilian, Portuguese and American, riding at their moorings, like a flock of water-fowl, not a solitary ship was discoverable: nor was there a sign of movement of any kind, on the whole bay. This we thought ominous of bad news, but happily without just cause. The first boat from the shore, assured us of the good health of the port. Whatever malaria may exist has lost its malignancy, and exhibits itself only in cases of imprudence and special exposure, in the milder types of intermittent fever. It is the winter season, or period at which the sun has reached its farthest remove in this latitude, and all nature is in double freshness and brilliancy. The coloring of the skies in the mornings and evenings is beautiful: this is especially the case after sunset, when at times a golden and vermilion glory has filled the west with a splendor I do not recollect to have seen surpassed. The effect of this upon the pinnacled rocks and precipices of the mountains—brought into bold relief by the shades of the hour—and upon the promontories and islets of the bay, the church and convent towers, and the leading architecture of the city, is gorgeous. This was particularly the case, an evening or two ago, while Dr. C—— and I were enjoying a stroll over Gloria Hill. Our progress was arrested by it: and after standing for some time in silent admiration of the picture presented, from the elevated terraces in front of the church, we joined in the exclamation, “no words in our own or any other language can describe such a scene: painting itself could do no justice to it!”
The temperature now, even at mid-day, is not too hot for exercise, the mean height of the thermometer being 73° Fahrenheit. The weather resembles that of the finest in June at home; the evenings and nights, however, are cooler. This is the general character of the weather from March to September; and nothing in climate can be finer. During the rest of the year, the heat, with the mercury at mid-day at 90°, is oppressive and debilitating.
We have renewed our acquaintance pleasantly with Don Juan and Doña M——, and are disposed to regard the simplicity of mind and heart, evidenced by them, the kindness of their manners, and the cordiality of their hospitality, as characteristic of the people of the country in general; and to believe that they would be manifested to all foreigners of respectability, as readily as to us, under circumstances to call them into exercise. Our friends of Praya Domingo, however, make no secret of the fact that our nationality is a strong recommendation to them. Both profess great admiration of the United States as a nation, not from what they have seen of its citizens—for we are the first and only Americans they have known—but from what they have heard and read of our history and condition, and the practical working of our institutions.
I have taken but one new walk: this was through the valley of the Larangeiras, in company with Captain McIntosh and Dr. C——. Much as I had often admired its general features, in passing through the open street of the Cateté, from which it branches westward to the mountains, the heat of the weather, and its distance from the ordinary landing, prevented a visit to it. It is a half mile, perhaps, in width at the entrance, but soon becomes only a narrow glen, terminating at the end of a couple or more miles, beneath the steep sides of the overhanging mountain. A fine carriage road winds through it, crossing and recrossing repeatedly a sparkling mountain stream, which brawls and babbles and murmurs, from side to side. It is charming throughout: so quiet and secluded, so embowered and rural, so fresh in atmosphere and luxuriant in growth, and so varied in the architecture of its dwellings, from the ornamented villa and sculptured palace, to the simplest and most humble of cottages. The orange and coffee tree, the banana and other broad-leaved vegetation of the tropics, cluster thickly around; and are overshadowed by the loftier growth of the magnificent mango, the towering palm, the feathery foliage of the tamarind and acacia, and here and there that of the thorny cotton-tree or Bombax, with its trunk and limbs well guarded by the defences which give to it a descriptive name.
Roses and jessamines, and brilliantly flowering creepers; the gay hybiscus, the thick-set bloom of the purple bignonia, and the gorgeous glare of the poinsetta, meet the eye at every turn, and fill the air with sweet perfumes. In contrast with our imprisonment on board ship at Montevideo, it was a luxury scarcely appreciable by others, to stroll amidst such imagery; with an occasional glimpse, through an open gateway or the ornamental railings of an enclosure, of the fountains and grottoes, the alcoves and bowers, the gravelled walks and tesselated pavements, the busts, the statues and statuettes, which embellish the grounds of those “rich in this world’s goods.”
Near the head of the valley, a winding pathway on one side leads up the acclivity by steep ascent, to the line of the aqueduct, fifteen hundred feet above the level below. One section of this is peculiarly beautiful. It overhangs the valley, and embowered overhead, reminded me forcibly and pleasantly in many of its features—with the exception of the tropical growth—of the gravelled terrace of the old road at Cooperstown, which leads to the “Mount Vison” of Cooper’s Pioneers. In a secluded nook near by, is the residence of the British minister: an irregular cottage, buried in shade, and vocal with the murmurings of water-courses. After passing this, as we gained height after height, and looked down with bird’s-eye view, the Larangeiras and its surroundings seemed, in the lights and shades of the hour, like a sketch in fairy land.
The fatality in the city, of the late epidemic, has led to the construction, recently, of great numbers of residences along the spurs and sides of the mountains. One of these is just finished, near the point at which we reached the aqueduct. The site is superb; and, while resting from the fatigue of the sharp ascent, we greatly enjoyed the magnificent prospect of both land and sea which it commands. From this point, the descent of five miles along the aqueduct to the city is so gradual, for the greater part of the way, as to be almost imperceptible. For two miles the pathway is a lofty terrace, cut in the face of the mountain for the course of the aqueduct, from which, beneath overhanging trees, you look up on one side, upon steep rocks and wild woods, and down on the other, as from the parapets of a lofty castle, upon a succession of views of cultivated and surprising beauty. Indeed, the whole walk seemed to me like that through a picture-gallery of magnificently drawn, and gorgeously colored landscapes. The aqueduct does not follow a straight line, but runs zigzag, at long, obtuse angles. The pathway is beside it, and in following its course, new and varied vistas, both before and behind, are constantly presented. The massive masonry, and finished workmanship of the time-marked, and moss-covered old structure, contrast strongly in their aspect of civilization, with the wildness of the overhanging cliffs and forests, while in many places, the gay coloring of the endless variety of lichens and orchidæ which cover it, gives to the surface the appearance of richly variegated marble.
Before we reached the city, the shades of the evening had gathered around us, as deeply as the moon near her second quarter would allow. Many of the objects around and above us, were thus brought in bold outline against the sky. This effect was particularly beautiful, where the palm or cocoa-nut tree spread its long and graceful plumage, in dark masses upon the light beyond.
The last striking picture which met the eye as we descended the hill of Santa Theresa, was that of a family, grouped in an arbor of roses and honeysuckle, canopied with clustering bignonia, on the angle of a wall twenty feet above our heads, silently enjoying in the twilight the last fannings of the sea-breeze, while from the towers of the convent close by, the vesper bell sent forth its silvery sounds in invitations to prayer.
June 26th.—It is to the Romish Church that we are here chiefly indebted for every thing in the way of spectacle. Two principal feast days have occurred within the week past: that of Corpus Christi on the 19th, and that of St. John the Baptist on the 24th inst. The fête of Corpus Christi was observed with great display. It was instituted by Urban IV., six hundred years ago, in honor of the then newly adopted doctrine of transubstantiation, and consequent adoration of the host. Its legendary origin is traced to Juliana, a nun of Liege, who, while looking at the full moon, saw a gap in its orb, and by peculiar revelation from heaven, learned that the moon represented the Christian Church, and the gap the want of a festival for the adoration of the body of Christ, in the consecrated wafer. This she was to begin to celebrate, and to announce to the world. The authorization of the festival by papal bull, was induced by the following miraculous incident. While a priest, who did not believe in the change of the bread into the body of Christ, was going through the ceremony of benediction, drops of blood fell upon his surplice, which, when he endeavored to conceal them in the folds of his garment, were formed into bloody images of the host. His scepticism was thus overcome; and the bull of Urban, authorizing the adoration, was published. This occurred in 1264, and the bloody surplice is still shown at Civita Vecchia as a relic!
In Rio de Janeiro, as in all papal countries, Corpus Christi is a chief festival in the year. Its celebration was commenced at the dawn of day, by a general peal of the bells from every church and convent tower, by the booming of cannon along the shores, and the hissing and crackling of rockets in the sky. Flags were every where unfurled; draperies of silk and satin, of gold and silver tissue, of damask and velvet of every hue, were displayed, from the windows and balconies of the houses in the principal streets; and the windows of the palace ornamented on the outside with rich hangings of crimson damask. High mass was performed in the imperial chapel at 11 o’clock. This was now opened for the first time, after having been for a year undergoing a thorough renovation, by regilding and new painting in fresco. The effect is rich and chaste. On either side of the nave, between the entrance and the transept, are the shrines of the apostolic saints, above which hang paintings of each, with the accustomed emblems of their individuality. “The Supper,” by a master, ornaments the altar of a side chapel at one end of the transept, and a beautifully executed and classically draped effigy of St. Julian in wax, in a sarcophagus of glass, adorns the other. The altar-piece of the grand altar covers the entire end of the chapel within the chancel. The subject is the assumption of the Virgin. The royal family of Portugal—at the time of the immigration—in attitudes of adoration, occupy the foreground: the Queen mother, John VI. and his wife, Carlota of Spain, and Don Pedro I., then a lad, being the chief figures.
The imperial body-guard in state dresses, with halberds at rest, early formed in lines on either side of the nave from the entrance to the transept. The intervening space, newly carpeted, was in reserve for the ministers of state, the officers of the household, and other dignitaries of the Empire. A procession of these soon made its appearance from a vesting-room communicating with the palace, and opened in file along the nave for the passage of the bishop and his ecclesiastical attendants to the chancel, and of the Emperor, who followed them, to a canopied throne near the high altar. The Empress and her ladies had already entered the imperial tribune facing the throne. The bishop was in full prelatic dress, wearing his mitre and bearing the gilded crosier emblematic of his office. When the chapel was thus filled, the coup d’œil presented a brilliant scene in the masses of rich embroideries in gold; the jewelled decorations of the dignitaries of state; and the court dresses of the different classes of the aristocracy. These last were chiefly of velvet in rich hues, lined with white silk—purple, maroon, mazarine and sky blue, light and dark green, and here and there a suit of the same of plain black.
The orchestra was full, and embraced the best performers of the opera company, both vocal and instrumental. As the service proceeded, the varied attitudes and groupings in the chancel and at the altar, of the officiating priests
“Glaring in gems and gay in woven gold;”
the floating incense; the harmony of the duo, the trio, and the quartette; the touching strains of the solo; and the burst of the full chorus, could scarcely fail to impress the senses. And when added to this general effect, at the elevation of the host each halberdier, with battle-axe reversed, dropped on his bended knee; every courtier bowed his forehead to the ground; the bishop humbled himself at the steps of the altar, and the Emperor kneeled on the platform of his throne; the whole tableau was one most striking in its dramatic show. Externally all was a profoundness of adoration, which, directed spiritually to the Godhead, would have been irresistibly impressive; but addressed to a mere wafer, and to be regarded as gross idolatry, it was both painful to the mind and saddening to the heart.
Long before the termination of the mass, a procession was marshalled in front of the chapel in the palace-square, awaiting the addition from the church of the ecclesiastics and the court, before moving through some of the principal streets. The leading group was unique; and apparently the most attractive part to the surrounding crowds. It consisted of a colossal effigy of St. George, in knightly armor, mounted upon a splendidly caparisoned charger from the Emperor’s stud, led by a groom in oriental dress. An armor-bearer in black mail, and other attendants in characteristic costume, formed the suite; while a dozen led horses in housings of green cloth, stiff with the imperial arms in massive silver, completed the cortège of the pasteboard saint All else in the show was purely ecclesiastic, with a great display of the varied costumes and emblematic devices of the Romish Church. At the end of the religious service, the dignitaries, both of Church and State, fell into the line, and were followed by the host, borne by the bishop beneath a fringed and tasselled canopy of cloth of gold, one of the gilt supporters of which was held by the Emperor with uncovered head.
Don Pedro, wherever seen, bears inspection well; and carries with him as much of the impress of his station as any monarch I have seen.
There was no public procession on St. John’s day, but its approach was heralded by a great setting off of rockets and other fireworks the night previous, and the glare of bonfires in different parts of the city. These were seen with fine effect from the ship; especially the rockets, with the dark mountains for a background. The evening following was observed in a similar manner: altogether like the night of the fourth of July at home. At every respectable-looking house, fireworks of more or less elaborate workmanship were displayed; rockets of all descriptions were shooting in brilliant corruscations through the air; and illuminated balloons sent up, while colored lamps, thickly clustered upon the convents crowning the hills, flashed through the darkness like diadems of diamonds.
July 2d.—On a former visit at Rio, I gave you some account of the Foundling Hospital and Female Orphan Asylum, in connection with the marriage of an éleve of the last. This is the second of July, the fête day of St. Elizabeth—that on which the asylum is open to visitors, and on which, usually, the marriages of such of the inmates as are under engagement take place. The Emperor and Empress were among the visitors to-day, and sanctioned by their presence the marriage of four couples in the chapel. The anniversary had been fixed upon, for throwing open to public inspection a new building for the Hospital of the Misericordia, of which both the Foundling Hospital and Orphan Asylum are appendages. I improved the opportunity to pass through the wards of the sick. These were in the most perfect order and neatness. Every possible provision seemed to be made for the care and comfort of the inmates; and the whole establishment gave evidence of fulfilling the benevolence of its design.
The practical benevolence of the Romish Church is exhibited in no form more general and commendable, than in the care which is taken of the poor and the sick. Rio abounds in hospitals for these. Some are connected with convents or monasteries, and others are separate and independent institutions. They are founded and sustained by incorporated societies, corresponding in their general features with the voluntary organizations with us at home for philanthropic and charitable purposes, but here called brotherhoods. These are of various names; that of the Misericordia or “House of Mercy,” is the largest and most wealthy, and owes its origin, nearly three centuries ago, to the piety and benevolence of the celebrated Jesuit, Anchieta. The hospital is situated on the bay beneath Castle Hill. Its doors are open at all hours, night and day, to the sick of both sexes, of all religions and of every country and color, without any form or condition of admittance: all receive gratuitously the ablest medical attendance and the best nursing and care. The numbers of its patients amount to thousands yearly, the proportion of deaths occurring being about one-fifth of the whole received.
The original building is old, and has been long insufficient in its dimensions and convenience, for the numerous applicants for relief. A new structure has been for ten years and more in progress on an adjoining site. A large section of this, two-thirds of the whole plan, is now completed, and was opened to the public for the first time to-day. The edifice is a noble structure. The façade on the street of the part finished being four hundred feet. It is four stories in height, and is surmounted, in the centre, by a finely proportioned and symmetrical dome. The whole presents the finest architectural feature of the city, in the approach from the sea. The interior throughout is palace-like. The plan is admirably arranged for ventilation and light, and embraces every modern improvement for the insurance of cleanliness and purity. The structure is quadrangular. The parts already finished enclose two spacious courts, beautifully laid out in walks intermingled with flower-gardens and shrubberies, as places of exercise for the convalescent. Each is ornamented with a fountain; when the building shall be completed, corresponding courts on the new part are to be added. The perspective through the long corridors and the lofty wards, which communicate with each other the whole length by folding-doors, is exceedingly fine: indeed, the whole structure is a credit to the civilization of the age, and is a splendid monument of the munificence and benevolence of the Brotherhood of Mercy.
The institution embraces a department for the insane. For the separate accommodation of such patients, another imperial-like structure is in progress and nearly completed, on the beautiful bay of Botafogo. It already attracts the eye of the stranger entering the port, more than any other object in the surrounding panorama. Of this the Emperor has been a principal and munificent patron.
The possessions and funded capital of the Misericordia are very great. The dying bequests of the charitable, in money and in real estate, for the long period of centuries, with the advance of value in property, make it one of the most richly endowed institutions of the Empire, and insure perpetuity to its worthy and Christ-like charities. Membership is secured by the payment of an initiation fee and an annual subscription: this guarantees the right to a support in sickness and in poverty, and to the religious services of the church in burial. Members to the brotherhoods are received at any age, even that of the merest childhood. On one occasion, I witnessed the ceremonies of an initiation to the fraternity of the Carmelites. It took place with much ceremony in the church of the order. A very large number were received, and included boys from the ages of five and six years to full manhood. Assembled in the sacristy, each placed over his ordinary dress a cape or mantle of silk, the badge of the order on occasions of ceremony, and each receiving from the appointed officers a consecrated amulet, a girdle of patent leather, and a rosary, walked in procession to the grand altar of the church. The whole building was in high decoration, with a superb display of gold and silver plate on the altar, and of reading desks of solid silver in the chancel. The dresses of the officiating priests, and the officers of the society, were new and rich; and the music of the first order. The ceremonies of the initiation consisted in verbal pledges on the part of the novitiates, anointings, crossings, sprinklings with holy water, and perfuming with incense, and were followed with showers of rose-leaves scattered widely from silver salvers, over the newly received.
July 22d.—The principal incident of the last few days has been a wedding, on the 20th, in the family of Mr. R——, the bride being Miss R——, his daughter. The marriage took place at the residence of Mr M——, the maternal grandfather of the lady, who holds a chief place among the merchant princes of Rio. It is situated seven or eight miles westward from the city, beyond the valley of Engenho Velho, beneath the mountains of Tejuca. Our commander-in-chief, to a seat with whom I had been invited, is a man of great simplicity in his habits of life, and averse to any thing like display in his movements. The appearance, therefore, of a showy equipage with four horses—as the carriage which he had directed to be in waiting at the landing—took him quite by surprise, and led to an order immediately for the dismissal of two of the animals; but to this the coachman objected so strongly, with the assurance from his master that the four would be found necessary before reaching our destination, and that no one ever drove to Mr. M——’s with a single pair, that the Commodore was obliged to submit. So, ordering his valet, who happened to be in attendance, to mount to his place—that there might be some keeping in the turn-out—we were off with a whirl, four-in-hand.
The drive, for the greater part of the way, was the same we had made in our visits to the country-seat of Mr. R——. While yet a couple of miles from our destination, we had full proof of the desirableness at least, of having four horses to the carriage. Though there has scarcely been any rain for a fortnight past, the road through the flat valley, in a soil of stiff clay, became so heavy that it was difficult for the four to save us from being fixed in the mire, in which the wheels at times were sunk to the hubs. In due time, however, we reached the stately gateway, by which the broad domain of Mr. M—— is entered. This is a semicircular structure of white marble, with massive gates and railing of cast iron in rich patterns: erected at a cost of more than seven thousand dollars. The drive from this to the house is a broad avenue of closely planted mango trees. The mango is one of the noblest of what may be called the civilized trees of the country, in contradistinction to the natives of the forest. In its loftiness, roundness of top, wide-spread limbs, and thickset foliage of deep green, it resembles the black ash of the Middle States, more than any tree familiar to you, which occurs to my recollection at the moment: the general outline is perhaps more spreading. It is the season of its blossoms, though these are not yet in full display. The flowers come out in spikes, like those of the horse chestnut, and rise thickly over the whole tree. Their color, while now yet in bud, varies from a light pea-green to a brownish red, the general effect being like that of the common chestnut when in bloom; when fully blown, however, the flowers are white. These, when close at hand, contrast beautifully with the dark green of the leaf; but, at a distance, present an almost indistinguishable mass of whiteness.
The want of neatness and good keeping in the grounds of Brazilian country-houses is observable, even in those of Mr. M——, though his residence is quite a palace, and his wealth estimated by millions. The mansion is of stone, massively built, and about eighty feet square. The general height is two stories, but a central section, having an ornamented pediment and entablature, rises to three. It is in the Italian style, with balustrades around the flat roof surmounted by marble vases filled with aloes. The façade in extent and in general effect reminds me of the President’s house at Washington. A spacious portico with tesselated pavements, leads into a lofty hall, from which a staircase with a double flight of steps conducts to the drawing-rooms, on the second floor. The principal rooms of the ground floor are a dining-hall, ball-room, music-room, and chapel. The views are beautiful. That in front commands the entire plain, filled with the country-houses of the rich and their surroundings, the spires and towers of Rio, and the mountains across the bay, in the distance; and that in the rear, a great variety of wild mountain scenery, in primitive luxuriance and solitude, close at hand.
We were among the first to arrive, but were quickly followed by a large company, among whom were many richly attired ladies. Rich and fashionable dress is here peculiarly a passion with the sex; and I was told by a gentleman present, when speaking on the subject, that a lady would not think of moving in general society in Rio, without an allowance for the toilette of at least two thousand dollars a year.
The groom being an Englishman, the marriage as a civil contract had taken place early in the day, at the British Consulate: he being a Protestant also, while the bride is a Roman Catholic, the religious rites were twofold—Romish and Protestant Episcopal. Contrary to the usage at home, the bridal party joined the general company in the drawing-rooms while the guests were assembling. When all expected had arrived, Mr. M——, the grandfather, who in the Romish ceremony was to give away the bride, approached, and taking her by the hand, led the long procession to the private chapel below. The service was performed by the priest of the Parish, who is also the family chaplain, in the sacerdotal robes of his grade.
It was in the Portuguese language, and much abbreviated, we were told, from the fact that one of the parties was a Protestant. Immediately after the benediction, when the parties had been proclaimed man and wife, female servants in the rear of the chapel scattered from baskets of silver, over the bride and her party, as she turned from the altar to meet the embraces of her friends, handfuls of freshly gathered rose-leaves and orange-blossoms. The effect, as fluttering lightly through the air they fell in thick showers on the group and the whole company, was poetic and pretty.
The Protestant ceremony, conducted by the Rev. Mr. Graham, Rector of the British church in the city, took place immediately afterwards in the principal drawing-room, a magnificent apartment, with hangings and furniture of crimson damask and decorations of gold. The closing scene here, in place of the shower of rose-leaves and orange-flowers of the chapel, was the tableau presented by the bride kneeling on a rich footstool in the midst of her bridesmaids, receiving with bowed head and tearful eyes the touching blessing with which the Episcopal rite ends.
The marriage-feast, of sixty covers, was served in the ball-room, a lofty hall with decorations in white and gold. The entertainment, in the display of china, glass, and plate, and of flowers in vases of Sèvres manufacture; in ornamental confectionery, and the profusion of luxurious viands, was all that wealth in its liberality and taste in its artistic exercise could command.
On shipboard, two incidents of more than commonplace interest have occurred since my last date. One is the departure for the United Stages of Lieut. R—— in ill health from the effects of the climate. In this, the wardroom mess and the ship sustain a great loss. He is one of the most interesting young men I have known in the service. Firm in principle, cultivated in mind, clear in judgment, prudent in action, and accomplished in his profession, he exhibits great symmetry of character as an officer, while the frankness and polish of his manners, and the warmth of his affections, make him attractive as a companion and dear as a friend.
My last interview with him before he left the ship was most gratifying to me, from the assurance it gave, that to the many other attractions of his character there would be added, immediately on his arrival home, that of openly avowed membership with the Church of Christ. Nothing during our cruise has imparted to me such unfeigned satisfaction: indeed the result of our conversation on this subject, was a joy I cannot well express.
The other incident was of a painfully different nature: one of those outbreaks, which, so long as strong drink holds its sway over so many seamen, no precaution or vigilance can, at all times, effectually guard against on board a man-of-war. For a long time the Congress has been under the most favorable auspices in regard to discipline and general good conduct. Contentment, cheerfulness, and ready obedience, seemed to be the prevailing feelings of the crew. But, on the evening of the 18th inst., just as the last guests of a party—similar to that of which I gave an account in October, had left the ship, it became known that liquor in large quantities had been smuggled on board, and that many of the men were intoxicated. Sixty or seventy were soon beyond all self-control, and, maddened by rum, were most insolent and insubordinate to the officers who attempted to restrain them. In the darkness of the deck, it was difficult to distinguish the ringleaders; and after these were secured in double irons, they made the rest of the night hideous, by their boisterous profanity and drunken ribaldry.
The investigation of the matter showed that the ‘dinkey,’ a small boat used as a tender by the messenger-boys and servants in communicating with the shore, had inadvertently been left afloat astern, in place of being hoisted from the water as usual, before dark. One or two of the crew made their way to this, and succeeded in bringing off from the shore, liquor sufficient to have intoxicated the whole ship’s company. It was freely offered to all, but sixty or seventy only would partake of it; a fact speaking well for the mass in contradistinction to the few. Still, such an outbreak, though limited to a small number, and those the veriest vagabonds on board, is disheartening to those who believe in the practicability of maintaining the discipline and good order of a ship, by a rule of kindness.
The consequence of this conduct was a kind of quarantine of the ship the next day; no boats were allowed to leave for the shore, and both officers and men remained on board. It was Saturday, and I had not sufficiently recovered from the shock before the Sabbath, to throw off a despondency in regard to any high results from the preaching of the Gospel to such hearers, or to overcome a feeling that I was speaking but to the wind. There is never a want, however, of the listening ear; and I felt reproved for my unbelief by the first chapter of the Bible read at the service, in which occurs the declaration:
“As the rain cometh down, and the snow from heaven,
And returneth not thither,
But watereth the earth,
And maketh it bring forth and bud,
That it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater;
So shall my word be that goeth forth out of my mouth:
It shall not return unto me void,
But it shall accomplish that which I please,
And it shall prosper in the thing whereunto I send it.
Instead of the thorn—shall come up the fir tree,
And instead of the brier—shall come up the myrtle tree.
And it shall be to the Lord for a name,
For an everlasting sign, that shall not be cut off.”
I was the more impressed with this reproof to my despondency, on returning to my room, by accidentally falling upon a paraphrase of the same truth, in the following verses:
“Ye who think the Truth ye sow
Lost beneath the winter’s snow,
Doubt not Time’s unerring law
Yet shall bring the genial thaw.
God in nature ye can trust:
Is the God of grace less just?
Workers on the barren soil,
Yours may seem a thankless toil;
Sick at heart with hope deferred,
Listen to the cheering word:
“Now the faithful sower grieves—
Soon he’ll bind his golden sheaves.”
If the Almighty have decreed—
Man may labor, yet the seed
Never in his life shall grow,
Shall the sower cease to sow?
The fairest fruit may yet be borne
On the resurrection morn!”