Two arrivals of the spring are in people's mouths—Kossuth and Jenny Lind Goldschmidt.
Kossuth comes pleading with his old eloquence, not a whit diminished by the labors of his long journeyings, and even sharpened by the approaching farewell into a more plaintive earnestness. Reformers of every creed would do well to study, and emulate the sincerity and fervor with which he presses his claims. The same devotion, and the same tongue—tuned to such harmony as belongs to this extraordinary Hungarian, would carry triumphantly to their issues a hundred halting causes of philanthropy, and of Christian endeavor.
It is not our province to speak of the weight of the Hungarian claim, or to rebuke or foster the spirit which his ardor must enkindle. Only be it said—in our easy way—that whatever national action may be, as a government, national sympathy will lie largely on the side of such struggling nation; and the redemption of Hungary from Austrian bonds would be welcomed with such heartfelt greeting, as no other nation would bestow.
But, as we have hinted in our former careless on dits, sympathy is but a flimsy weapon to parry bayonet thrusts; and the destiny of suffering European nations lies more nearly (under Providence) in their own resolve, and steadfastness, and manly growth, than in the pleas of demagogues, or the contributed thousands of well-wishing Americans.
As for Jenny—(we write before her farewell song is sung)—she will have a grouping at her bridal concert, that may well add to her bridal joy. But we warn the fortunate bridegroom that he will meet critical and captious gazers; and that the world which has so long cherished his Jenny, as a bride of its own, will not give up its claim without a sparkling of jealousy. Let him wear his honor modestly, or he will kindle these sparkles into a blaze of burning rebuke.
Poor Jenny!—that she should have gone the way of all the world, is not a little saddening! That her angel habit of song and charity should not have lifted her forever into a sphere, above the weaknesses of human attachments, may point the moral of a ditty! The issue only shows how human are the best; and that life, however lorded over by triumphant souls, yet drags us down to the bonds of that frail mortality, which lives and thrives by propping on mortality as frail as we, and which in its best estate is strong—not alone of ourselves—but through the aids and sympathies of others!
As usual at this season, the talk of the town is running upon the prospective enjoyments of the summer. And it is not a little curious to note, how, as the means of communication multiply and extend, our summer rambles take in a wider and wider circumference.
Years ago, and a sight of those mountain glories, which in grim stateliness, and darkened shadows, frown upon the Hudson, was the limit of a summer jaunt. But now, even a trip beyond the Alleghenies is not a thing of moment; and there are families who plot a season's festivity upon the upper Mississippi.
Indeed, if beauty of scenery is the attracting cause, we know of no more glowing outline of shore and mountain than hems the summer traveler, over the Alleghenies and along the rich wooded banks of the Ohio. Western Pennsylvania, with its Juniata, and its heavy-forested mountains, has no rival in the world of silvan beauty. The heights are sharp, and bold; the torrents are foamy, and wreathed into combing waterfalls, that drip, to the eye, through bowers of green. You see below you tops of woods, and forests that seem bandlets of shrubbery, and great rivers that are ribbons of silver. You see around you climbing heights, in all the sullenness of undisturbed nature—rich with every tree that grows, and echoing the shrill sounds of wild birds, and catching, with four-fold echoes, the sharp whistle of your groaning and puffing engine. You run along the edge of cliffs, with a nearness and a speed that would shock you to fear, did not the amazing grandeur sublime all sense of danger, and hand over your admiring sense into the guardianship of that Providence which rears the mountains, and plumbs the depths.