The impression that _sleep_ is a sufficient restorative from the wearing effects of otherwise ceaseless labor, or that _change of occupation_ furnishes all the relief that nature requires in this respect, is, undoubtedly, erroneous. "The man," says an eminent student of humanity, "who does not now allow himself two hours for relaxation after dinner, will be _compelled_ to devote more time than that daily to the care of his health, eventually."

To allow one's self to be so engrossed by any pursuit, however laudable in itself, as to reserve no leisure for the claims of Society, of Friendship, of Taste, is so irrational as to need nothing but reflection to render it apparent. In a merely utilitarian view, it is unwise, since, as aesop has demonstrated, the bow that is never unbent soon ceases to be fit for use; but there is, surely, a higher consideration, addressed to the reason of man. Pope embodies it, in part, in the lines

----"G.o.d is paid when man receives, _To enjoy is to obey_!"

To have an aim, a purpose in life, sufficiently engrossing to act as an incentive to the exercise of all the powers of being, is essential to health and happiness. But to pursue any one object to the exclusion of all considerations for self-culture and intellectual enjoyment, is destructive of everything worthy that name.

They who devote all the exertions of youth and manhood to the acquisition of political distinction, or of gold, for instance--cherishing, meanwhile, a sort of Arcadian dream of ultimately enjoying the pleasures of intellectual communion, or the charms of the natural world, when the heat and burden of the conflict of life shall be done--exhibit a most deplorable ignorance of the truth that they will possess in age only the crippled capacities that disuse has almost wholly robbed of vitality, together with such as are prematurely worn out by being habitually overtaxed.

On the contrary, those who believe that

"It is not all of life to live,"

and early establish a true standard of excellence, and acquaint themselves with the immutable laws of our being, will so commingle self-enn.o.bling pursuits and enjoyments with industrious and well-directed attention to the needful demands of practical life, as to secure as much of _ever-present happiness_ as falls to the lot of humanity, together with the enviable retrospection of an exalted ambition, rightly fulfilled. They may also hope for the invaluable possession of intellectual and moral developments to be matured in that state of existence of which this is but the embryo. These are truisms, I admit, my young friends, yet the spirit of the age impels their iteration and re-iteration!

Burke's musical periods lamented the departure of the "age of chivalry."

Would that one gifted as he may revive the waning existence of the social and domestic virtues, and inspire my young countrymen with an ambition too lofty in its aspirations to permit the sacrifice of mental and moral powers, of natural affections, and immortal aspirations, upon the altars of Mammon!--shrines now yearly receiving from our country a holocaust of sacrifices, to which battle-fields are as naught in comparison.

But to return from this unpremeditated digression. Natural tastes and individual circ.u.mstances must, to a considerable extent, determine the relaxations and amus.e.m.e.nts most conducive to enjoyment and health.

You will scarcely need to be told that persons of sedentary habits, and especially those devoted to literary occupations, should make _exercise in the open air_ a daily recreation, and that it will best subserve the purposes of pleasure and health when united with the advantages arising from _cheerful companionship_.

Hence the superiority of walking, riding, driving, boating, and sporting in its various forms, to all in-door exercises and amus.e.m.e.nts--and especially to those tending rather to tax the brain than exercise the body--for those whose mental powers are most taxed by their avocations.

On the other hand, there are those to whom the lighter investigations of literature and science afford the most appropriate relief from the toils of business.

Permit me, however, to enter my protest against the belief that a change from the labors and duties of city life to the close sleeping-rooms, the artificiality and excitement of a fashionable watering-place affords a proper and healthful relief to a weary body and an overwrought brain.

Life at a watering-place is no more an equivalent for the pure air, the simple habits, the wholesome food, the _repose of mind and heart_, afforded by unadulterated country life, than immersion in a bathing-tub is a satisfactory subst.i.tute for swimming in a living stream, or a contemplation of the most exquisite picture of rural scenes, for a glorious canter amid green fields and over breezy hills! Nor will dancing half the night in heated rooms, late suppers, bowling-alleys and billiards, not to speak of still more objectionable indulgences, restore these devotees to study or business to their city-homes re-invigorated for renewed action, as will the least laborious employments of the farmer, the "sportive toil" of the naturalist, the varied enjoyments of the traveller amid the wonders of our vast primeval forests, or of the voyager who explores the attractions of our unrivalled chain of inland lakes. People who do their thinking by proxy, and regulate their enjoyments by the _on dit_ of the fashionable world, yearly spend money enough at some crowded resort of the _beau monde_ (heaven save the mark!) to enable them to make the tour of Europe, or buy a pretty villa and grounds in the country, or do some deed "twice blessed," in that "it blesseth him that gives and him that takes." In Scotland, in England, in the North of Europe generally, men and women whose social position necessarily involves refinement of habits and education, go, in little congenial parties, into the mountains and among the lakes, visit spots renowned in song and story, collect specimens of the wonders of nature, "camp out," as they say at the West, eat simply, dress rationally--in short, _really rusticate_, in happy independence alike of the thraldom of fashion and the supremacy of convention. Thus in the Old World, among the learned, the accomplished, the high-born. Here in Young America--let the sallow cheek, the attenuated limbs, the dull eye and _blase_ air of the youthful scions of many a n.o.ble old Revolutionary stock, attest only too truly, a treasonous slavery to the most arbitrary and remorseless of tyrants! Would that they may serve, at least, as beacons to warn you, seasonably, against adding yourselves to the denizens of haunts where

"Unwieldly wealth, and c.u.mbrous pomp repose; And every want to luxury allied, And every pang that _folly pays to pride_!"

I would that all my young countrymen might have looked upon the last hours of my revered friend, John Quincy Adams, and thus learned the impressive lessons taught by that solemn scene; lessons that--to use his own appropriate language--

----"bid us seize the moments as they pa.s.s, s.n.a.t.c.h the retrieveless sun-beam as it flies, Nor lose one sand of life's revolving gla.s.s-- Aspiring still, with energy sublime, By virtuous deeds to give _Eternity to Time_!"[5]

[5] Concluding lines of Mr. Adams' "Address to the _Sun-Dial_ under the window of the Hall of the House of Representatives."

It was, indeed, a fitting close of his long, n.o.ble life! Faithful to his duty to his country, he maintained his post to the last, and fell, like a true defender of liberty--renouncing his weapons only with his life.

Borne from the arena of senatorial strife to a couch hastily prepared beneath the same roof that had so often echoed his words of dauntless eloquence, attended by mourning friends, and receiving the tender ministrations of the companion alike of his earlier and later manhood, the flickering lamp of life slowly expired. After, apparently, reviewing the lengthened retrospection of a temperate, rational, useful life, from the boyish years

"Whose distant footsteps echoed through the corridors of Time,"

to the dying efforts of genius and patriotism, the hushed stillness of that hallowed chamber at length rendered audible the sublime words--"IT IS THE LAST OF EARTH! I AM CONTENT!"

I think it was during the administration of Sir Charles Bagot, the immediate successor of Lord Durham, as Governor General of the Canadas, that I had the pleasure to dine one day, at the house of a distinguished civilian who held office under him, in company with the celebrated traveller L----, and his friend, the well-known E---- G---- W----, a man who, despite wealth, rank, and talent, paid a life-long penalty for a youthful error. There were, also, present several members of the Provincial Parliament, then in session at Kingston, which was, at that time, the seat of government, and a number of ladies--those of the party of Americans with whom I was travelling, and some others.

The conversation, very naturally, turned upon the national peculiarities of the _Yankees_--as the English call, not the inhabitants of New England alone, but the people of the North American States generally--in consequence of the fact that the world-wide traveller had just completed his first visit to our country. Some one asked him a leading question respecting his impressions of us as a people, and more than one good-humored sally was given and parried among us. At length L---- said, so audibly and gravely as to arrest the attention of the whole company:

"I have really but two serious faults to charge upon Jonathan."

"May we be permitted to inquire what those are?" returned I.

"That he _repudiates his debts_, and _doesn't take time to eat his dinner_."

When the general laugh had subsided, Mr. W---- remarked that, except when at the best hotels in the larger cities, he had found less inducement for dining deliberately in the United States than in most civilized lands he had visited, in consequence of the prevalent bad cookery.

"The words of Goldsmith," said he,--

"'Heaven sends us good meat, but the devil sends cooks!'

were always present to my mind when at table there! They eschew honest cold roast beef, as though there were poison in meat but once cooked, served a second time, though Hamlet is authority for _our_ taste in that respect.--The cold venison you did me the honor to compliment so highly, at lunch, this morning, L----, would have been offered you _fried_ by our good Yankee cousins!"

"The patron saint of _la cuisine_ forefend!" cried a smooth-browed Englishman--"not re-cooked, I hope?"

"a.s.suredly!" returned W----, "I trust these ladies and Colonel Lunettes will pardon me,--but such infamous stupidity is quite common. I soon learned, however, the secret of preserving my "capacious stomach" in unimpaired capacity for action, [an irresistibly comic glance downward upon his portly person] and could, I thought, very readily explain--

'What is't that takes from _them_ Their stomach, pleasures, and their golden sleep, Why they do bend their eyes upon the earth,

In thick ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy!'"

If the frank denunciations of this eccentric observer of life and manners might otherwise have been regarded as impolite, his more severe comments upon his own countrymen proved, at least, that no national partiality swayed his judgment.

I remember his telling me the following anecdote, as we chatted over our coffee, after joining the ladies in the evening:--In answer to some inquiry on my part, respecting the social condition of _the people_--the peasantry, as he called them, of the Provinces, he spoke in unmitigated condemnation of their ignorance, and especially of their insolence and boorishness. "Get L---- to tell you," said he, "how nearly he and his servants were frozen to death one fierce night, while an infernal gate-keeper opposed his road-right. Then, again, the other morning, Mrs.

M---- (our hostess) who like every other lady here, except, perhaps, Lady Bagot, goes to market every day, was referred by a man, from whom she inquired for potatoes, to an old crone, with the words--'This _lady_ sell them,--here is _a woman_ who wants to buy potatoes!'"

The following morning, while our American party were driving out to the superb Fort that protects the Harbor of Kingston, to visit which we had been politely furnished with a permit by an official friend, I endeavored to draw from a very charming and accomplished lady the secret of her unusual silence and reserve at dinner the evening before. She is really a celebrity, as much for her remarkable conversational powers, as for any other reason, perhaps, and I had, therefore, the more regretted her not joining in the conversation.

"What made the mystery more difficult of solution," said one of the other ladies, "was the equally imperturbable gravity of that handsome Frenchman who sat beside Virginia."

"Handsome!" retorted Virginia, "do you call that man handsome!--his high cheek bones and swarthy complexion show his Indian blood rather too plainly for my taste, I must confess."

"That commingling of races is very common here, Virginia," said I, "Mr.

E---- is a somewhat prominent member of the Canadian Parliament. I heard a speech from him, in French, yesterday morning, which was listened to with marked attention. There were a number of ladies in the _side-boxes_, too, and it is evident from his attention to his dress, if for no other reason, that Mr. E---- is an _elegant_!"

"All that may be," rejoined Virginia, "but I have no fancy for light blue 'unwhisperables,' as Tom calls them, nor for ruffled shirts!"

"A change has come o'er the spirit of your dream, most queenly daughter of the 'sunny South!'--is this the sprightly _Americaine_ who won all hearts the other day on the St. Lawrence,--from that magnificent British officer, to the quiet old priest whose very beard seemed to laugh, at least"----

"That, indeed, Col. Lunettes!--but for your ever-ready gallantry I would exclaim--

'Man delights me not, nor woman either!'

but here we are at the entrance of the famous donjon keep!"

We spent some time in examining the--to the ladies--novel attractions of the place. By-and-by, the fair Virginia, who had strayed off a little by herself, called to me to come and explain the mode of using a port-hole to her. In a few minutes, she said, in a low tone, sitting down, as she spoke upon a dismounted cannon, "Col. Lunettes, I beg you not to allude again to that--to the dinner, yesterday, or, at least, to my embarra.s.sment"----