The shrine is vowed to freedom, but, my friend, Freedom is but a means to gain an end. Freedom should build the temple, but the shrine Be consecrate to thought still more divine. The human bliss which angel hopes foresaw Is liberty to comprehend the law. Give, then, thy book a larger scope and frame, Comprising means and end in Truth's great name. DESCRIPTION OF A PORTION OF THE JOURNEY TO TRENTON FALLS. The long-anticipated morning dawns, Clear, hopeful, joyous-eyed, and pure of breath. The dogstar is exhausted of its rage, And copious showers have cooled the feverish air, The mighty engine pants--away, away! And, see! they come! a motley, smiling group-- The stately matron with her tempered grace, Her earnest eye, and kind though meaning smile, Her words of wisdom and her words of mirth. Her counsel firm and generous sympathy; The happy pair whose hearts so full, yet ever Dilating to the scene, refuse that bliss Which excludes the whole or blunts the sense of beauty. Next two fair maidens in gradation meet, The one of gentle mien and soft dove-eyes; Like water she, that yielding and combining, Yet most pure element in the social cup: The other with bright glance and damask cheek, You need not deem concealment there was preying To mar the healthful promise of the spring. Another dame was there, of graver look, And heart of slower beat; yet in its depths Not irresponsive to the soul of things, Nor cold when charmed by those who knew its pass-word. These ladies had a knight from foreign clime, Who from the banks of the dark-rolling Danube, Or somewhere thereabouts, had come, a pilgrim, To worship at the shrine of Liberty, And after, made his home in her loved realm, Content to call it fatherland where'er The streams bear freemen and the skies smile on them; A courteous knight he was, of merry mood, Expert to wing the lagging hour with jest, Or tale of strange romance or comic song. And there was one I must not call a page, Although too young yet to have won his spurs; Yet there was promise in his laughing eye, That in due time he'd prove no carpet knight; Now, bright companion on a summer sea, With winged words of gay or tasteful thought, He was fit clasp to this our social chain. And now, the swift car loosened on its way, O'er hill and dale we fly with rapid lightness, While each tongue celebrates the power of steam; O, how delightful 'tis to go so fast! No time to muse, no chance to gaze on nature! 'Tis bliss indeed if "to think be to groan!"