As we returned to our cottage home, the crescent moon was streaming in silvery brightness, the constellations and galaxy resplendent with “living fires,” and the far, far worlds rolling in immeasurable distance, as twinkling stars trembled upon our human vision. The dews of night were moist upon the grass, as we re-measured the lawn that led to the cottage; where, after planning our visit for the following morning to Mount Vernon, we soon were wrapped in contented and grateful repose. MOUNT VERNON. The sun raised himself in a huge globe of fire above the eastern horizon, as my friend’s spirited bays stood saddled at the door of the cottage, pawing, champing the bit, and playfully endeavouring to bite the black boy who held them. Finishing an early breakfast, we were soon in our saddles and full gallop on our journey; the dogs in an ecstacy of delight, bounding along at our sides, overhauling and putting in bodily terror every unfortunate cur that came in their way, as they sportively tumbled him over and over in curious examination; old Bernard, with glistening eyes and wagging tail, bestriding in grim fun the prostrate form of the enemy. We passed rapidly through the rough paved streets of Alexandria, watching eagerly for its famed beauties at their casements, and clearing the town, were soon on the rustic road that leads to the sacred place of America. The meadows were glistening in the morning dew; the sweet perfume of the clover filled the air; the white daisy and delicate cowslip danced over their luxuriant grassy beds, as the fresh morning breeze fanned them in its passage; and amid the sea of melody high above the merry gossip of the bob-link, the chattering volubility of the mocking-bird, his yellow spotted breast swelling with delight, his keen eye gazing into the distance, the saucy “_you-can’t-see-me_” of the meadow lark sounded in merry challenge, while the clear “whew-whew-it” of the quail from the golden wheat-field, was echoed by his eager companion far down in the green vales, as they stretched softly and gently into the distance, in the long shadows of the early morning. Oh! let him that would scan the benevolence of the Creator, leave his restless bed in the sweltering city, and walk forth with the day in its youth,—for verily, like man, it hath its youth, its manhood and its old age—and the sweetness of morning is the youth of the day.