J. J. ROUSSEAU.
IMITATED FROM THE ABOVE.
Flow, gentle stream, thy course pursue
Beneath the shade of waving bowers,
Where sunbeams lightly glancing through,
The dew-drops kiss from off the flowers.
Thy murmurs charm the list'ning ear,
And soothe the senses to repose--
No wayward passion rages here,
The heart no throbbing tumult knows.
Thy waters, as they glide along,
Reflect but images of peace,
Emblem of days, too swiftly flown,
Pass'd in the midst of happiness.
Flow on, fair stream, thy course pursue
Beneath the shade of waving bowers,
Where sunbeams lightly glancing through,
Kiss the bright dew from off the flowers.
S.N.
* * * * *
NATIONAL VARIETIES.
(_Continued from page_ 165.)
It is almost impossible to lay down any rule which would define the
variations of national manners as having any reference to climate. We
frequently find that the passage of a river, or a chain of mountains,
dividing countries of the same natural features, brings us among an
entirely new people, and presents us with a fresh scene in the melodrama
of life. The inhabitants of Languedoc and Gascony, and the southern parts
of France, are the gayest and most lively of the subjects of Charles X.;
but the moment we have crossed the Pyrenees, we are among one of the
gravest nations in the world, the Spaniards.
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