Julia (Chapter_1)

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This unpublished novel is located in the Papers of William Thornton, Library of Congress.

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Chapter first Oh nature how in every charm supreme! Whose votaries feast or rapture ever new. Beatie -------- But not abide to every mortal eye Is this great scene reveal'd Akenside.

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Last edit about 6 years ago by shperdueva
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1 Chapter-First It was one of those delicious days in spring which make us feel existence to be a blessing. The warmth--the mildness the stillness of the air, softens--soothes & saddens the soul. The same atmosphere which expands the blossom, expands the hart; the same instinct which plumes the pinions of the bird & leads it to longer & higher flights, develops thought, & carries it into futurity & elevates it to the source of Being. The renovation of nature after the topor of winter, is an assurance of immortality after the slumber of the grave.--On such a day as this, there is so sweet an accordance & harmony between our eternal sensations & internal sentiments that our whole being is attuned to melody. Yes--to live, is to enjoy- and at such moments we neither live, or enjoy alone.

The general influence which pervades one [?], pervades our bosom, & while we feel,--we participate in the benevolence of the one for the love which lifts us to him, unites us to our fellow men. On such a day as this the heart is more than full, & this superabundance of life we feel [deletion] overflows the boundaries of the present moment & carrying our affections back to the years that one past & to those that are to come, or seeks the surcharged soul with a vague & delerious revery.

Leaning against an open casement, long had Julia Clifton sat, lost, absorbed, in the depth of her own thoughts, in the fullness of her own sensations. She inhaled the soft air, she listened to the sweet sounds & gazed on the beauties of rising nature, & she felt the influence of the awakened spirit of vitality that breathed around her.

Julia was one of those, who endowed by nature with those quick perceptions of the beautiful & sublime, desired in the various forms & shows of nature, its charms, not observed by common minds; & to this quickness of perceptions, was added a kind of sensibility which made her susceptible, of a pleasure nay, even of a rapture, of which few are able to conceive.

to her--& to enthusiasts like her, creation reveals secrets, hidden from vulgar souls--it has a language which they cannot

Last edit about 6 years ago by shperdueva
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(2) comprend--a voice which they cannot hear.

Even the waving of a branch--the humming of an inset the fall of a raindrop, have a meaning & a charm for the fond enthusaist of nature.

The dewy freshness of morning, the lengthning shadows of evening the brightness of the sunny landscape--the gloom of the deep forest the sighing of the breeze or the roaring of the tempest, all--all had charms for Julia. Often when some one has seen her gazing on the setting sun--or the moon sailing amidst silver clouds, or watching the gathering storm & listening in wrapt attention to the dashing torrent or roaring winds, they have exclaimed "Silly & romantic creature, surely she is half deranged," Julia instead of resenting their ridicule, woud pity their insensibility & wonder how creatures not blind & deaf, could witness such scenes, or listen to such sounds without emotion. In her disposition she had a treasure, which sordid wealth could not bestow, & while she gazed with rapture on the hills--the plains--the forest that spread around She was richer in her perceptions of their beauty, than their owners were in the possession of the soil.

On this delightful day--her soul exulted in these enviable stores of wealth. Sometimes her eyes wandered over the distant hills--half hid in mist sometimes rested on the tender verdure of the lawn, the bursting buds of the shrubbery, or the [?] of the willow when drooping branches waved in the vernal breeze, until her bosom swelled with desires, that it seemed to her all the joy of earth could not satisfy & instinctively she would turn her ardent gaze to heaven & wish that her bursting sighs could waft her soul to those happier regions. For hours would she fix her eyes on the white & fleecy clouds which were floating over the blue expanse; watch their varying forms & pursue them in their airy course.

Last edit about 6 years ago by shperdueva
5 (duplicate of preceding page with variations)
Complete

5 (duplicate of preceding page with variations)

It was one of those delicious days in spring which make us feel existence to be a blessing. The warmth, the mildness, the stillness of the air, softens, soothes and saddens the soul. The same atmosphere which expands the blossom, expands the heart; the same instinct which plumes the finery of the bird and reach its longer and higher flights, develops thought and carries it onto futurity, and elevates it to heaven. The renovation of nature after the torpor of winter, confirms to us the hope of resurrection and immortality after death. On a day like this there is such a sweet accord and harmony between our external sensations and internal sentiments, that our whole being is attuned to melody; and to live, --is to enjoy. And at such moments we neither live nor enjoy alone. The genial influence that pervades our own bosoms, pervades creation. The separate cadence of life which we then feel, overflows the boundaries of the present moment, and carries us back to the years that are past and to those that are to come. The awakened spirit of vitality, quicken our recollections and animates our hopes and the surcharged soul sinks into vague and delicious revenge. Leaning against the side of an open casement, long had Julia Clifton sat lost--absorbed in the depth of her own thoughts--in the fullness of her own sensations. She inhaled the soft air, she listened to the sweet sounds and gazed on the beauties of reviving nature. For Julia was one of those endowed by nature with those of weak {?} Sometimes her keen eyes { considerately} wandered over the garden of charming and beautiful scenes that spread around her, or rested on the tender verdure of the lawn, the bursting comtemplation of nature as a more positive argument-buds of the shrubbery, or the early foliage of the willow, than the suspicion often of time?}

they spoke of { ?} language by which her sympathy was excited, touched some sympathetic { ?} within her bosom those vague nameless desires which nothing on earth could satisfy , and she would turn her ardent gaze to heaven, and feel as if her bursting sighs would waft her soul to those happy regions. For hours would she pin her eyes on the white and fleecy clouds which were floating over the blue expanse, watch their varying forms and pursue them in their airy {courses}.

Last edit almost 4 years ago by shashathree
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(3) The moon had passed, & the evning still found Julia lost in pleasing revery, & tender recollection-"Days of my youth!" she exclaimed--'Ye are gone! Your fairy visions, your ardent hopes, all, all have gone, & proved as fleeting & unsubstantial as those light clouds which float over yonder sky.--Ye, painted & beautiful vapours! resplendant with the noon day sun, your varying & evanescent forms, your soft & glowing colours are but the embodied breath of nature; extractions from the earthy, too etheral for those lower regions. Disengaged from grosser matter, ye ascend to heaven take the sighings of the heart,--the breathings of a soul dissatisfied with the low born pleasures, & as piring after immortality. For what but vapours pointed by a brilliant Fancy; what but every varying forms, are the fond hopes--the glowing pleasures of human life!

The morning & the noon are past, the day is closing--the clouds follow the setting sun, & settle round the horizon. Down shall his fiery orb sink from sight, but his lingering rays will still paint the clouds & diffuse over the landscape a rich & mellow light.

Ye, days of my life! your bright morning has gone, your meridian shall soon be past & when its evening comes, will yet some pleasures, hopes & affections cluster round its close, like these light clouds round the closing day?

Shall the lingering affections of life, paint its last scenes & warm its last hours, with such a warm glow as the departed sun leaves behind?

Or like the black thunder storm which so often terminates the brightest days of summer, shall the evening of my life be darkened by disappointment & sorrow? Yes surely this will be so. For, not more certaintly do those clouds beautiful as they are, carry within their bosoms the elements of storms, than, are hidden within your dearest joys, the principles of affection.

My life has indeed been like a summer's day, glowing with the

Last edit almost 4 years ago by shashathree
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