Gifts of Genius | Page 3

profoundly as the pathos of living speech, but the eye has a far wider
range than the ear and fathoms the heavens and sweeps the earth and
sea, whilst the ear hears distinctly but within a very narrow limit,
hardly a stone's throw. When the eye, then, loses its marvellous faculty
and sees no longer the light of day and the countenances of friends, let
the ear do what it can to make up for the loss by every cheering word of
sympathy and hope. In God's Providence there is a principle of
compensation that aims to balance every privation by some new
privilege, as for instance by giving new acuteness to the senses which
are called to do the work of the senses lost. But genial humanity is the
great principle of compensation, and by this God's children glorify the
Father in Heaven. May this volume serve his merciful will, and may the
light shed from the stars of our literary firmament do something to
lessen the night upon every dark path.
S.O.
GIFTS OF GENIUS.
OUT AT ELBOWS.
THE STORY OF ST. GEORGE CLEAVE.
BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE, OF VIRGINIA.

I.
How good a thing it is to live! The morn is full of music; and Annie is
singing in the hall!
The sun falls with a tranquil glory on the fields and forests, burning
with the golden splendors of the autumn--the variegated leaves of the
mighty oaks are draped about the ancient gables, like a trophy of
banners. The landscape sleeps; all the world smiles--shall not I?
I sat up late last night at my accounts; to-day I will take a holiday. The
squire has bidden me good morning in his courteous, good-humored
way, and gone in his carriage to attend a meeting of his brother
magistrates:--I am away for the time from my noisy courts--the domain
is mine--all the world is still!
No;--Annie is singing in the hall.
She sings to herself, I think, this autumn morning, and would not like to
be interrupted. I will therefore take a ramble--and you shall accompany
me, O friend of my youth, far away in distant lands, but beside me still!
Whither shall we go? It is hard to decide, for all the world is lovely.
Shall we go to my favorite woodland? It skirts the river, and I love the
river; so we pass into the forest.
How regal is the time of the fall of the leaves! A thousand brilliant
colors charm the eyes--the eyes of their faithful lovers. How the mighty
oaks reach out their knotty, muscular arms to welcome us!--how their
ponderous shoulders bear aloft the imperial trappings--trappings of silk
and velvet, all orange, blue, and purple! The haughty pines stand up
like warriors--or call them spears of nordland heroes, holding on their
summits emerald banners! The tulip-trees are lovely queens with
flowers in their hair, who bend and welcome you with gracious
murmurs; the slender elms sway to and fro, like fairest maidens of the
royal blood; and sigh, and smile, and whisper, full of the charming
grace of youth, and tenderness, and beauty.
I salute my noblemen, and queens, and princesses; they bow in return

to me, their king. Let us wander on.
--Ah! that is well; my river view! Of all my broad domain, I think I like
this part the best. Is it not beautiful? That clump of dogwood, however,
obstructs the view somewhat; I must cut it down. Let us move a little to
the right. Ah! there it is! See my lovely river; surely you must admire
my swan-like ships, flying, with snowy canvass spread, before the fresh
breeze. And see that schooner breaking the little waves into foam. Is
that a telescope which the captain of my vessel points toward us? He
salutes me, does he not? But I fear the distance is too great; he could
hardly recognize me. Still I shall bow--let us not neglect the laws of
courtesy.
My ship is sailing onward. In earlier days I had many barks which
sailed from shore; they were freighted with the richest goods, and made
me very anxious. So my argosies went sailing, but they never came
again. One bore my poem, which I thought would make me very
celebrated, but the ship was lost. Another was to bring me back a cargo
of such beautiful things--things which make life delightful to so
many!--pearls, and silks, and wines, and gold-laced suits--garters,
rosettes, and slips of ribbon to be worn at the button-hole. This, too,
was lost, and yet it did not grieve me much. The third caused me more
regret; I do not think I have yet wholly recovered from its loss. It bore a
maiden with sunny hair, and the tenderest, sweetest eyes! She said she
loved me--yes