It were impossible for the most gifted pen to do justice to the
beauty, the grandeur, the sublimity of the theme.
Even those who have climbed the lofty mountain tops, and found
themselves lost amidst the clouds, who have been rocked upon the bosom
of the heaving ocean, and seen it when the elements held terrible
contest, when the howling winds lashed its waves to wild frenzy, when
the sheeted lightnings played upon its surface, and the deep, heavy
peals of thunder reverberated through the heaven's vast concave, and
those, too, who have traversed the broad prairie, that far as the
eye can reach, stretches out in wavy undulations, who have heard the
eternal thunder of the cataract, as its waters plunge madly into the
abyss below, who have wandered amidst orange bowers and spicy groves,
and as Pollock expresses it, "have mused on ruins grey with years, and
drank from old and fabulous wells, and plucked the vine that first
born prophets plucked; and mused on famous tombs, and on the waves of
ocean mused, and on the desert waste: the heavens and earth of every
country, seen where'er the old inspiring Genii dwelt, aught that could
rouse, expand, refine the soul," even such would fail to do justice to
the glowing theme.
What renders the pleasure that nature confers doubly valuable, is,
that it is free for all. The poor as well as the rich participate
in its enjoyment. The sun dispenses its genial light and warmth as
generously upon the beggar, who seeks his daily bread from door to
door, as upon the crowned monarch.
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