In beholding this deluge of created Omnipotence the thought, how irresistible is the displeasure of God, rushes upon the soul. It requires but a little aid of the imagination to behold in this ceaseless flow of waters, the stream of his indignation which shall beat upon the wicked in the gulf below the eternal pit, & in the cloud of exhalations, the smoke of their torments which ascendeth up forever & ever. And nothing but the warbling of unearthly voices seems necessary to make one feel that hell and destruction is uncovered before him. [Illustration: PL. XXXVIII.—LOUISA C. LEWIS From pencil sketch ] With these associations, all is dark and terrific & dreadful, till from the midst of this darkness and these mighty thunderings the bow, brilliant type of mercy, arises, and spreads its broad arch over the agitated waters, proclaiming that the Omnipotence which rules the stream, is associated with mercy as well as with justice. LOUISA C. LEWIS—EXTRACTS FROM HER COMMONPLACE BOOK. IN IMITATION OF THE SONG “WHEN SHALL WE THREE MEET AGAIN.” O when shall we two meet again? With cheerful heart, with welcome smile, And all the past With woe o’ercast Forget to taste of bliss the while O when shall we two meet again? And all the promised pleasure know Which hope to cheer My pathway drear Afford, this heart where’re I go O when shall we two meet again? The look the well known voice to greet And free from care Together share Our walks, again, by moonlight sweet. Shall cruel fortune prove our foe And time with lingering steps detain Shall years go by Nor hasten nigh The hour when we shall meet again. Shall sorrow spread her gloomy cloud And hope deferred, my bosom pain Shall absence prove A chill to love E’er you and I shall meet again But if stern fate, this joy deny And our fond wish should prove but vain. Beyond the sky May you and I, In bliss immortal meet again. THE BANTAM. I’ve seen old Hudson’s swelling pride, As on he rush’d to meet the ocean. No Storms then lash’d his solemn tide, No dashing waves made wild commotion But pine crown’d cliffs & tall trees waving green, Frown’d o’er the flood, the guardians of the scene. I’ve seen Connecticut’s fair wave, Still as it went forever smiling; While the tall corn its bright green gave, The river’s darker hue beguiling: Rich are thy fields thy skies forever shine; “Nor drinks the sea, a lovelier wave than thine.”