--Paw to-day, and claw to-morrow.
_London at Night_.--One of the greatest pleasures in the world is to walk
alone, and at night, (while they are yet crowded) through the long
lamp-lit streets of this huge metropolis. There, even more than in the
silence of woods and fields, seems to me the source of endless, various
meditation.
_How easy it is to forget!_--The summer passes over the furrow, and the
corn springs up; the sod forgets the flower of the past year; and the
battlefield forgets the blood that has been spilt upon its turf; the sky
forgets the storm; and the water the noon-day sun that slept upon its
bosom. All Nature preaches forgetfulness. Its very order is the progress
of oblivion.
* * * * *
SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.
A DAY AT LULWORTH.[1]
The abolition of monasteries, which succeeded the former revolution in
France, caused a fraternity of Trappists to seek refuge from the general
persecution of religious orders under the protection of the proprietor of
Lulworth Castle, on the coast of Dorsetshire; their patron being a rigid
Catholic, and much governed by the priests. They had been established many
years when I visited them; my curiosity being excited by the current
reports of the severities to which their order subjected them in the
habitual discipline of the convent. The day selected for the visit was
quite in harmony with the objects in view; a cold, bleak, cloudy morning,
which terminated in rain, without a single ray of the sun to enliven a
December gloom.
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