{"character_count": 2725, "word_count": 472, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8938999772071838], "ccnet_perplexity": [1111.800048828125], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
Was to be exIled, we SD oeep tidy piaHt Our feelings and affections, that the gloom May be onr light-and hablt may enehant The desert to paradise like home So that in after tune It even may haunt The memnry with kind of Plessantness, Though nothing, once, resembied pleasure

 less. Home 'Tis stirring word-it brings Before our eyes each spot well known of Each long past scene of pleasure or of The forms that once in beauty moved be- Our feastiDg eyes--the music of the rain On the old root--the broad and grey sea- nd the wild tumbling of the many waves, On the white sand, or in their sounding

 caves. We recollect the last long, lingering look tthe tall spires--untii they sunk below The pine-ciad hill--the shallow, murmur

 ing brook, That near the ancient mansion house did Gaw,

 And every quiet and remembered nook, Whither of simmer eyes we used to go, And gaze into the depths of those blue

 eyes

 Which yainly, but still dearly we did prize. The azure palace floor of the white moon Jew elled with stars--the rushing of

 river Through boundless forests, in the month

 of June The panther-trodde mountains, clad for

 ever With the white snow--night chasing the

 bright moon, An Ethiopian huntress with her quiver Laden with stars-the still sublimty Of the deep fores,s--aud their mystery A silver cloud wasting it's being under The red fire of the sua--the summer light

 hing Uocradled in the rough lap of the thunder; \ lake once tempest-rock'd d, at rest and

 whitening With the moons light--the grey mist flung

 asunder, Showing a cataract--a pale cheek brigh

 ening

 With new love-all these are beautiful And hc must be in truth very mule, Who has no feeling for them, and no eye To feast upon them. Such men To possess Within their souls no tonch of harmony, Who are unmoved by Natures loyeliness. Bnt when the glmmering yoid of memory Is lighted by the dreams oftreasured bliss, Wakened by that word home, all other

 feelings

 Are weak before it's sad or sweet reveal

 ings. Well, after all, twill hardly be advisable To make diary of Ayunta's travels--- Though 1t might make a goodly book, as

 szeahle

 As Halls or Hamilton's, quant. snf of caviis,

 Or Mrs. TroIIope's, or that entceable 1 (iiere's a new word, without which the rhyme baflies The AIuse's skill, and venerable Fidler Who almost, in his line, beats Jeremy

 Didler. So shall merely take general view Of what he saw in travelling through the West Not naming all the towns lie travelled through, Or telling where he fared the worst and best,

 Or finding fault because the country's new, And not with England's splendid vices Or where men eat the fastest, and most As Captain Hall instrucis us of New York. To De continued. l