It is the mind then, which transfers its own ethereal colors to the forms of matter, and invests scenes and places with new and peculiar attractions. Like the light of the moon streaming through a leafy grove and transforming its darkness into its own radiant beauty, the spirit of man diffuses its own inspiration through the universe,
"Making all nature
Beauty to the eye and music to the ear."
Now if this theory be true, it follows that no country will appear to us so beautiful as the one which happens to be endeared to our hearts by early recollections and pleasant associations. No matter how rude and wild,—that spot of all others on earth, will appear to us the sweetest and most attractive! 'New England,' says a native of Massachusetts or of Vermont, 'is the glory of all lands. No hills and vales are more picturesque than hers, no rivers more clear and beautiful.' 'Visit Naples, and die!' exclaims the Neapolitan, proud of his classic home. 'Green Erin, my darling,' is the fond language of the Hibernian, 'first gem of the ocean, first flower of the sea.' 'Here's a health,' shouts the native of Caledonia, 'bonny Scotland to thee!' Others may speak disparagingly of the sour climate and barren soil of Scotland; but to a native of that country, the land of his fathers is invested with all the charms of poetry and romance. Every spot of its varied surface is hallowed ground. He sees its rugged rocks and desolate moors mantled with the hoary memories of by-gone days, the thrilling associations of childhood and youth. Therefore, with a meaning and emphasis, which all who love their native land will appreciate, he appropriates the words of the poet:—
Land of the forest and the rock,
Of dark blue lake and mighty river,
Of mountains reared aloft to mock,
The storm's career, the lightning's shock,
My own green land forever!
Land of the beautiful and brave!
The freeman's home, the martyr's grave!
The nursery of giant men,
Whose deeds have linked with every glen,
The magic of a warrior's name!
Does not Scotland, however inferior, in some respects it may be deemed to other lands, possess a peculiar charm to all cultivated minds?[1] What visions of ancient glory cluster around the time-honored name! What associations of 'wild native grandeur,'—of wizard beauty, and rough magnificence. What gleams of 'poetic sunlight,'—what recollections of martial daring by flood and field,—what hallowed faith and burning zeal,—what martyr toils and martyr graves, monuments of freedom's struggles and freedom's triumphs in moor or glen,—what 'lights and shadows' of love and passion,—what ancient songs, echoing among the hills,—what blessed sabbath calm,—what lofty inspiration of the Bible and covenant,—in a word, what dear and hallowed memories of that 'Auld lang syne,' indigenous only to Scotland, though known throughout the world! Should this be deemed enthusiastic, let it, and all else of a similar character which may be found in this volume, be ascribed to a natural and not unpardonable feeling on the part of the writer. The remembrance of 'Auld lang syne' can never be extinguished. Except the hope of heaven, it is our best and holiest heritage.
As 'Auld Lang Syne' brings Scotland one and all,
Scotch plaids, Scotch snoods, the blue hills and clear streams,
The Dee, the Don, Balgownies brig's black wall,
All my boy feelings, all my gentler dreams
Of what I then dreamt, clothed in their own pall,
Like Banquo's offspring; floating past me seems
My childhood, in this childishness of mind;
I care not;—'tis a glimpse of 'Auld Lang Syne.'
Byron.
Beautiful is New England, resembling as she does, in many of her features, 'Auld Scotia's hills and dales,' and moreover being much akin to her, in religious sentiment and the love of freedom; so that a native of either might well be forgiven for clinging with peculiar fondness to the land of his birth, and, in certain moods of mind, prefering it to all the world beside. Though far away, and even loving the place of his estrangement, he cannot, if he would, altogether renounce those ties which bind him to his early home. A 'viewless chain,' which crosses ocean and continent, conveys from the one to the other that subtle, yet gracious influence, which is quicker and stronger than the lightning's gleam. Let no one then be surprised if a Scotsman in New England, the cherished land of his adoption, should solace his mind with the recollection of early days, and endeavor to set before others the characteristic beauties and excellences of his native country.
O Caledonia, stern and wild,
Meet nurse for a poetic child!
Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of my sires! What mortal hand,
Can e'er untie the filial band
That knits me to thy rugged strand!
"Scotland," as one of her own sons has expressed it, "is a wee bit country," but possessed of "muckle pith and spirit." Its surface is rough and mountainous, with beautiful patches of rich arable land along the courses of its streams, and extensive level meadows, called Carses, as the Carse of Falkirk, and the Carse of Gowrie. It is of unequal breadth, being much indented with bays and creeks, and stretches some two hundred and eighty miles in length, reckoning from its most southerly point, the Mull of Galloway, to Dunnet's Head, its most northern extremity. This probably would be a little farther than from "Maiden Kirk to Johnny Groat's," the "from Dan to Beersheba" of Scotland. Clustering around its western and northern sides are the Hebrides, the Shetland and the Orkney islands; wild and rocky isles, with rude and primitive inhabitants, constituting the Ultima Thule of Great Britain. In Scotland, a considerable portion of the land is uncultivated, consisting of heathy hills, mountains and moors; and the most of that which is cultivated has been rendered productive by the hand of art and industry. Like Switzerland, it is comparatively a poor country, but has been made rich by the generative powers of mind. Her wealth consists in the brawny arms and vigorous intellects of her sons. The climate is cold and variable, though milder in winter than that of New England, and in summer cooler, and upon the whole, more agreeable, except when dense fogs and long-continued rains prevail.