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necessary liostil.'ty between the objects o;
colonization & abolition. Colonization deal-,
only with the free man of color, and that wit,
his own free voluntary consent. It has noth
ing to do with slavery. It disturbs no man’s
property, seeks to impair no power in the
slave States, nor to attribute any to the Gen
eral Government. A.I its action and all its
ways and means are voluntary, deluding up
on the blessing of Providence, which hitherto
has graciously smiled upon it. And yet.
iicueticeut and Itarmeicss as colonization is, no
portion of the people of the United State'
denounces it with so much persevering zeal'
and such unmixed bitterness us do the aboli- j
tiomsts. ' I
They put themselves in direct opposition to
any separation whatever between the two
races. They would keep them forever pent
up together within the same limits, perpetua
ting tnc r animosities, and constantly en Jan
gering tl»e peace of the community. Titov
proclaim, jin leed, tli.t color is nothing; that
the orguntic and characteristic difference be
tween the two races oug it to be entirely over
looked and disregarded. And, elevating them,
solves to a sublime but impracticable pniloso
phy, they would teach us to eradicate all t’.e
repugnances of our nature, and to take to our
bosoms and our boards the black man as we
do the w h te, on the same fooling of equal social
com ition. Do they not perceive that in thus
confounding all the distinctions which God
himself has made, they arraign the wisdom and
and goodness of Providence itself? It has
been His divine pleasure to make the black
man black and the white man white, and to
distinguish them by other repulsive constitu
tional differences. It is not necessary loi me
to maintain, nor shall I endeavor to prove, that
it was any part of His divine intention that the
one race should lie held in perpetual bondage
by the other; but this I will say, that thoie
whom He has created different, and has de
clared, by their physical structure and color,
ought to lie kept asunder, should not be brought
together by any process whatever of unnatural
amalgam; t on.
But if the dangers of the civil contest which
I have supposed could be avoided, separ itio;;
or amalgamation is the only peaceful altwrna.
tive. if it were possible to effectuate the project
of abolition. The abolitionists oppose all
colonization, and it irresistibly follows, what
ever they may protest or declare, that they are
to bring about this amalgamation ? I have
heard of none of these ultra-abolitionists fur
n:shing in their own families or persons ex
amples of intermarriage. Who is to begin it?
Is it their purpose not only to create a pinch,
ing competition between black labor and white
labor, but do they intend also to contaminate
the industrious and laborious classes of soe’e
tv at the North by a revolting admixture of tin
black feme it ?
It is frequently asked, What is to become
of the Afr.can ra e among us? Are they
forever to rerna nin bondage ? That ques
tion was asked more than a half a century
ago. It has been answered by fifty years of
prosperity, but little chequered from this cause,
It will be repeated fifty or a hundred years
hence. The true answer is, that the same
Providence who has hitherto guided and
governed us, and avcrtel all serious evils from
the existing relation between the two races,
will guide and govern our posterity. Sufficient
to the day is the evil thereof. We have hitherto
with that blessing, taken care of ourselves.
Posterity will find the means of its own preser
vation and prosperity. It is only in foe most
direful event which can beful this people that
this great interest, and all other of our greatest
interests, would be put in jeopardy. Although
in particular districts the black population is
gaming upon the white it only constitutes one
fifth of tlic whole population of the United
States, and taking the aggregates of the two
races, the European is constantly, though
slowly, gaining upon the African port on.
Tnis fact is demonstrated bv the period.al re
turns of our population. Let us cease, then,
to indulge in gloomy forebodings about the
impenetrable future. But, if we may attempt
to lift the veil and contemplate what lies be
yoad it, I too, have ventured on a speculative
theory, with which l will r.ot now treuhle
you, but which has been published to the world.
According to that, in the progress of time,
someone hundred and fifty, or two hundred
years hence, but few vestiges of the black race
will remain among our poster ty.
Mr. President, at the period of the formation
of our Constitution, and afterwards, our patri
otic ancestors apprehended danger to the
Union from two causes. )ne was, the A lie
hanv Mountains, dividing the waters which
flow into the Atlantic Ocean from those which
found their outlet in the Gulf of Mexico.
T hey seemed to present a natural separation.
That danger has vanished before the noble
achievements of the spirit of internal improve
ment, and the immortal genius of Fulton.
And now, nowhere is found a more loval
attuenment to the Union than among those
very Western people, who, it was apprehended,
would be tlie first to burst its ties.
Ihe other cause, domestic slavery, happily
the sole remaining cause which is'likely to
disturb our harmony, continues to exist. It
was this which created the greatest übstatle and
the most anxious solicitude in the deliberations
ol tlie Convention that adopted the general
Constitution. And it is this subject that has
ever been tegaided with the deepest anxiety by
ail who are sincerely desirous of the perma
nency of our Union. The father of his conn
try, in his last affecting and solem appeal to
his fellow citizens, deprecated ns a mosi
calamitous event, the geographical divisions
which it might produce. The Conventioi
wisely left to the several States the power ovet
the institutions of slavery, as a power uo’
necessary to the plan of union which it de
vised, and as one with which the Genera
Government could not be invested withou
planting the seeds of certain destruction
There let it remain undisturbed by any un
hallowed hand.
Sir, 1 am not in the habit of speaking light!'
ofthe possibiiity ofdissolving this happy Uniot
The Senate knows that I have deprecated alb
sions, on ordinary occasions to that dire ft
event. The country will testify that, if the;
Lo any thing in the history of my public carts
worthy of recollection, it is tlie truth nndsino
rits of my ardent devotion to its lasting pu
aervstion. But wv should be falw in ou
H allegiance to it. if wc did not discriminate be
tween tbe imaginary and real dangers by
which it may be assailed. Abolition should
l| no longer be regarded as an imaginary dau
! ger. The abolitionists, let me suppose suc
ceed in their present aim of uniting the inhabi
tants of the free states as one man. against the
j inhabitants of the slave States. Union on the
one side will beget union on the other. And
this process of reciprocal consolidation will lie
attended with all the violent prejudices, em
bittered passions, and implicate animosities
whichever degraded or deformed human na
ture. A virtual dissolution of the Union will
have taken place, whilst the forms of its exis
tence remain. Tne most valuable element of
union, mutual kindness, tbe feelings of sympa
thy, the fraternal bonds, which notv happily
unite us, will have been extinguished forever.
One section will stand in menacing and hostile
array against the other. The collition of
opinion will be quickly followed by the cla-h
of arms. I will not attempt to describe scenes
which now happily lie concealed from our
view. Abolitionists themselves would shrink
back in dismay and horror at the contempla
tion of desolated fields, conflagrated cities,
murdered inhabitants, and the overthrow of the
fairest fabric of human government that ever
rose to animate the hopes of civilized man.
Nor should these abolitionists flatter them,
selves that, if they can succeed in their object
of uniting the people of the free states, they j
will enter the contest with a numerical superi. j
ority that must ensure victory. All history j
and experience proves the hazard and uncer- j
tainty of war. And we are admonished by j
Holy W l it that the race is not to the swift, j
nor the battle to the strong. But if they were i
to conquer, whom would they conquer ? A
foreign foe—one who had insulted our flag. |
invaded our shores, and laid our country !
waste ? No, sir; no, sir. It would be a con-!
quest without laurels, without glory—a self, j
a suicidal conquest —a conquest of brothers
over brothers, achieved by one over another
portion of the descendants of common ances
tors, who, nobly pledged their lives, their for
tunes, and their sacred honor, had fought and
b’ed, side by side, in many a hard battle on
land and ocean, severed our country from the
British Crown, and established our national
independence.
The inhabitants of the slave states are some
times accused by their Northern brethren with
displaying too imi -li rashness and sensibility to
the operations and proceedings of abolitionists.
But, before they can be rightly judged, there
should be a reversal of conditions. Let me
suppose that the people of the slaves States
were to form societies, subsidize presses,
make large pecuniary contributions, send forth
numerous missionaries throughout all their
own borders, and enter into machinations to
burn the beautiful capitals, destroy the pro
ductive manufactories, and sink in the ocean
the gallant ships of the Northern states.
Would these incendiary piocccdings be re
garded as neighborly and friendly, and con
sistent with the fraternal sentiments which
should evei be cherished by one portion of the
Union towards another ? Would they excite
no emotion ? Occasion no manifestions of
dissatisfaction, nor lead to any acts of retalia
tory violence ? But the supposed case falls
far short of the actual one in a more essential
circumstance. In no contingency could theso
capitals, manufactories and ships rise in re
bellion and massacre inhabitants of the North
ern states.
I am, Mr. President, no friend of slavery.
The Searcher of all Hearts knows that every
pulsation of mine beats high and strong ii the
cause of civil liberty. Wherever it is safe and
practicable, I desire to sec every portion of
the human family in the enjoyment of it. But
I prefer the liberty of my ownjeountry to that
of any other people ; and the liberty of my
own race to that of any other race. The
liberty of the descendants of Africa in the Uni
ted States is incompatible with the safety and
liberty ot the European descendants. There
slavery forms an exception—an exception re
suiting from an inexorable necessity —to the
general liberty in the United States. YVe did
not originate, nor are we responsible for, this
necessity. Their liberty, if it were possible,
could only be established by violating the in
contestible powers of the States, and subverting
the Union. And beneath the ruins of the
Union would be buried, sooner or later, the
liberty of both races.
But if one dark spot exists on our political
horizon, is it not obscured by the bright and
effulgent and cheering light that beams around
us ? Was ever a people before so blessed as
we are, if true to ourselves ? Did ever any !
other nation contain within its bosom so many
elements of prosperity, of greatness, and of
glory ? Our only real danger lies ahead, con
spicuous, elevated, and visible. It was clear- :
ly discerned at the comment ement, and dis- j
tinctly seen throughout our whole career, j!
Shall we wontonly run upon it, and destroy !
all the glorious anticipations of the high destiny
that awaits us ? I beseech the abolitionists !
themselves solemnly to pause in their mad
and fatal course. Amidst the infinite variety
of objects of humanity and benevolence which
invite the employment of their energies, let
them select someone more harmless, that
does not threaten to deluge our country in
blood. I call upon that small portion of the
clergy, which has lent itself to those wild and
ruinous schemes, not to forget the holy nature j
of the Divine mission of the Founder of our
Religion, and to profit by his peaceful ex- 1
amples. I entreat that portion of my country-!
women who have given their countenance to
abolition, to remember that they are ever most;
loved and honored when moving in their own
i appropriate and delightful sphere ; and to re-1
! fleet that the ink which they shod in subscri- i
j bing with their fair hands abolition pet i it ions
may prove but the prelude to the shedding of
die blood of their brethren. I adjure all the
nhabitants of the free States to rebuke and
liseountenance, by their opinion and theii ex
■ mple, measures which must inevitably lead to
ie most calamitous consequences. And lei
I 's all, as countrymen, as friends, and as bro
ers, cherish in unfailing memory the motto
hich Ixire our ancestors triumphantly throng!
'I the trials ofthe Revolution, ns, if adhered to
will conduct tlieir posterity through all thn
■ay, in the disjiensutions of Providence, be
reserved for them.
THE SOUTHERN POST.
MISCELLANY.
From the Southern Literary Messenger.
CURRENTES-CALA'IOSITIES.
BV THE AUTHOR OF “THE TREE ARTICLE*.”
NO 11.
CHRISTMAS AND NEW-YEAR’S.
Christinas day, 1838! One of the smiles
j the old yepr, dying, puts on to make his old
friends remember him ! And we will rernem
ber him: lor what says quaint Tennyson ?
“ Old year, you shall not die !
We have so laughed and cried with you.
I’ve half a mind to die with you,
Old year I if you must die I”
Keeping Christmas is a very ancient cus
tom; and our fathers in the “old countrie,”
have been longer renowned for his usage than
any other people, and fora much longer time,
moreover, than they themselves liaie cele
brated any other festive occasion. Os vore,
they appointed at the king’s court, (as old
Stowe tells us) a “lord of misrule, or master
of merry disportsthe same merry fellow
made his appearance at the house of every
nobleman and person of distinction; and,
among the rest, “ the lord mayor of London,
and the sheriffs, had their lords of misrule,
ever contending, without quarrel or offence,
who should make the rarest pastime to delight
the beholders.”
Then tl.ere was the “hagmena,” a flight or
two before Christmas, when folks went about
in the garb of beggars, wishing happy Christ
mas and New Year, and carrying away, mo
ney, pics, puddings, nuts and apples—a very
olden custom. Kindred with it is “ mumming,”
which is, the different sexes changing attire
and going about from house to house, on the
“ hagmena,” or begging frolic. 1 believe this
is kept up in our own more sober land, “a
custom,” however, to quote Hamlet, “more
honored in the breach than in the observance.”
I he idea of bedecking churches and houses
with green lwiiglis was Druidicnl, and has been
used in Britain ever since the time of those an
cient pagans. They covered their dwellings
with ivy and holly boughs, to invite thereto
the sylvan deities they worshipped, to protect
them there, till the woods should again put on
their foliage. This custom is continued, in
this country, among the Catholic and Episco
pal congregations, as well as in the father land, i
It is an erroneous derivation of the origin of it
from that passage in Isaiah’s prophecy, which
tells of the box’, the fir and the [lino, as beau
tifymg the sanctuary, and making the place I
of God’s feet glorious. The custom is clearlv !
a pagan, and not t Christian one, in its origin. j
In “Poor Robin’s Almanac,” as given in j
the “ Popular Antiquities,” by Branel, there is;
a Christmas carol that shows how that festival \
was commemorated in 1693, and so worth:
copyiny here.
“Now, thrice welcome, Christmas,
Which brings us good cheer !
Minced pies and plum pudding,
Good ale and strong beer !
Whh pig, goose, and carpon,
The best that may be, —
So well doth the weather
And our stomachs agree !
Observe how the chimnies
Do smoke all about!
The cooks are providing
For dinner, no doubt.
But those on whose tablet
No victuals appear.
Oh may they keep Lent,
All the rest of the year !
With holly and ivy,
So green and so gay.
We deck up our houses.
As fresh as the day.
TFi th bay and rosemary,
And laurel complete,
And every one, now,
Is a king,—in conceit !
* * * *
But as for curmudgeons
Who will not be free,
I wish they may die,
On a three legged tree !
How clearly does the old prophet-bard,
above named, throughout the whole sixty-six
chapters of that divine poem, foretel the com
ing of the Futhe , Prophet, King, whose birth
millions are, at this hour, engaged in cele
brating ! And how does his song call to mirth
and gladness, in its every burst of prophetic
eloquence! “ Break forth, break forth into
joy ! Sing, sing together ! Wasted Jerusa
lem ! Jehovah hath comforted his people!
Jehovah hath redeemed Jerusalem ! He hath
bared bis arm in the sight of all the nations !
All ends of the earth shall see his glorious sal
vation !” And they have !
Eighteen centuries ago, it was one perpetual
night which veiled the whole earth. To a
handful of the human race, upon the remote
corner of Judea, there shone the faint light, of
ancient prophecies; but they were only like
distant stars, which sent their trembling rays
up®n the darkness, and adorned, but not re
moved the curtain that hung its folds over the
world. As to the Gentile nations, their “ phi
losophy” had now sunk into profound repose,
in complete despair of being able to furnish
the wanderers with guidance and light. Then,
all which loves the shroud of darkness was
awake and active. Profligacy indulged, free
ly, its enormities. Superstition fast -ned its
chain U|>on the multitude. Idolatry built, every
where, its shrines—and power clashed with
power—and nation rose against nation, filling
the earth with wars—until, in those sad hours,
no step was taken, and no event occurred,
; that served not to add fresh discord to the rac
ing of tlie people. It was the seasou when
penitenee had no hope.—the passions no guide
—and the world yielded to tlie empire of sin
;anJ of i lent h ! Thus, “ darkness covered the
earth, and gross darkness the people.” When,
■uddenly, a light broke from the east! The
clouds rolled off from the heavens ! The spi
rits of the nigiit were surprised by a day.beam
from on high ! Ignorance stoixl detected !
j Philosophy was humbled and amazed ! The
bosom of the pentient was filled with joy!
Tlie grave seemed decked with flowers! For
the Sun of Righteousness had spread over the
world the healing of his rays—and the pure
air was filled with tlie melodies of celestial spi.
riu giving “ Glory to God in the highest,”
and, on earth, proclaiming “Peace—good
will—toward men!”
Thi* day, then, is the anniversary of the
hour that admitted an emanation from the
One only true God into the humble and sinful
abodes of benighted man, to take upon him our
nature, and to bccoim to us a glorious Re
deemer. We are bidden by inspiration to hail
aim as “The Mighty God ! the everlasting
Father! the Prince of Peace!” The only
perfect image of God in man, as an example
of pure holiness, first exhibited for the eleva
tion of a fallen race ! The only prophet, w hose
influences of the spirit are unmeasured ! Mes
siah, in all the authority of that relation ! King,
in all the power and dominion of that sove
reignty !
How meet is it, then, that such an anniver
sary —the hour that gave birth to One in whom
all faith and hope are centred—should never
return without receiving the fullest distinct ons \
and honors it is in our |>ower to give it. Why
should we refuse to go to tlie cradle of Christ, :
and, like tlie p ulosophers of the east, render
all homage to Him, the Prophet, King, Rc.
deerner ? We encircle the days of national
deliverances, with every demonstration of
gladness: those, on which the chains of tlie
oppressor were broken, and liberty returned
on the banners of armies and fleets. Why,
then, shall we decline to commemorate the ad j
vent of the Conqueror who burst for us the
heavier bondage of evil desires and the dark
prison of the tomb ? who proclaimed the more
glorious liberty of the sons of God. and shone
in triumph over the influences and domination
of an infernal foe? We mark tlie period with
rejoicing, in which the mild influence of peace
descends, like refreshing rain, after the thun
ders and commotions of war. And shall we
refuse respect and the evidences of delight, to
the hour when a hol er peace was announced
on the lyres of angels ; when all (ears of God’s
offended justice vanished in the presence of a
Mediator ?
We deem it to be an important duty to con
secrate the hour of the natural creation, when
the Creator rested from his labors—bv weekly
observances and honors—when God said, “ let
there be light! and tiiere was light!” and a
world of beauty and brightness sprung from
the confusion of chaos? And shall we neglect
the annual return of that period, when, at the
rising of a brighter light, the moral world
sprang up in the freshness of anew creation,
and spiritual influences moved over the face of
a wilder chaos of perverted, misguided and cor
rupted affections, to summon into life an cm
nire of knowledge, holiness and peace?
*****
New Year’s, 1839. What a soft delicious
day, for mid-winter ! Peacefully, and with a
smile of rare beauty, dawns the New Year on
us; and may it so continue to the end. Some
there are who view with a too solemn and se
rious air the recurrence of this merry season
of the year. “Is this a time to be cloudy and
sad?” Shall we greet the approach if the
stranger with gloom on our brow? We have
sped the parting guest, and drank the peace
cup, in hearty libations to his memory.
“ He frothed his hampers to tlie brim,
A jollier year we shall not see !
And though his eyes are now so dim,
And though his foes spoke ill of him,
H« was a friend to me !
He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o’er ;
To see him die, across the waste.
His son and heir hath rid, post haste, —
But he was dead, before!
Every one for his own !
The night is starry and cold, my friend !
And the New Year, blithe and bold, my friend !
Conies up, to take his own!
*****
Alack ! old friend ! thou’rt gone !
Close up his eyes! Tic up his chin !
Step from the corpse ! and let him in,
Who standeth there alone,
And waiteth at the door!
There’s anew foot on the floor, my friend !
And a new face at the door, my friend!
Anew face at the door!” [Tennyson.
Then tlie health we ilriuik to thirty-eight,
let us drink to thirty-nine? May it be a year
of prosperity and success to the renders of the
Messenger, and to the Messenger itself? Mav
a smiling spring, a fruitful summer, a rich au
tumn, an abundant harvest, and a gentle fill
and decay, lie tiic records of its career, as set
down in the great volume of nature, kept by
the patient and truthful finger of old Time!
“ And let the shepherd's flute, the virgin’s lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet’s lyre,
Still sing the God of seasons, as they roll!
For tne, —when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring autumn gleams,
Or winter rises in the blackening cas T ,—
Be my tongue mute; may fancy paint no more.—
And, dead to joy, forget, my heart! to beat.”
[Thomson.
New Year is the seventh day from Christ
mas, and comes into “ the holidays” with all
that merry season’s claims upon our attention.
Its observances are, generally, tlie same;
though, in different sections of this country, as
wcil as in different countries, it is celebrated
in various ways. In olden time, that quaint
and most veracious chronicler, old Stowe, tells
us, the young women went about with the fa
mous “ wassail bowl,” which was a bowl of
spiced ale, on New Year’s eve and morning,
with some appropriate verses, mliieh they snug
from door to door “New Year gifts,” it
seems, were even then as much in vogue as
now. 1 think the huge bowls of egg-nog, ap
ple-toddy, whiskey-punch, mulled wine, and
other similar potations, which are set up by
the hospitable keepers of New Year’s, in some
j sections of our eountry, are but so many im
j proved lineal descendants ofthe old “ wassail
howl.” Instead of carrying this bowi from
door to door, however, ns was then the custom,
“the young women,” more wisely and mo
destly, stay at home, and receive tlie visits of
those who are inclined to partake of the merr .
ment of this happy season. And thus are well
brought in, moreover, tlie presentations of the
•gifts,’ which still characterise the mode of cele-
Grating the coming of the New Year. In this
respect, too, tlie moderns have improved vast
ly on tlie ancients. See the array of Souve
nirs. Tokens, Bijoux, Books of tlie Boudoir.
Book*of Beauty.(Jems, Tableaux. Keepsakes,
j Forgel-me-Nots, Scrap Books, Gifts, Violets,
; und the whole host of annuals, with which the
rompteis of the liooksellcrs. and the centre ta
|i hies of tbe fair and lovely of the land are glit.
•< tcring. Old Stowe would have written a few
more quartos and folios, by way of commcmu
rating the celebration of such festivals, ha
lliey been characterised by features like these.
But yet, I doubt whether, after all, with tin.-
increase cf luxury in the mode of keeping iq
these memorable days, w» have not lost n
good deal of that real feeling with which oui
lathers held them in remembrance.
“ ’Tis good to be merry and wise,”
snith the old song: a sentiment ol deep mean
ing and pith. So felt and so acted the people
ol a simpler day. lam of his mind who has
quaintly said,
“ I like them well! the curious preciseness
And all pretended gravity of those
That seek to banish hence harmless sports.
Have thrust away much ancient honesty!”
And, searching .among these musty records,
I have found a bit of valuable information for
my fair readers, who have not yet made up
their minds as to which of two emphatic mono
syllables they will fix upon, in a certain con
tingency. Old chroniclers say that, at tlie
first appearance of new moon, after New
Year's, if any unmarried woman will go out,
at evening, and look over the spars [liars] of a
gate, or stile, and, looking on tiie moon, repeat
the following lines—
“ All hail to the 'loon ! all hail to thee !
I prithee, good moon, reveal to me,
This night, who my husband must be !”
and then go directly to bed, she will dream of
her future husband.
Here is a queer proverb, of very great anti,
quity, which I insert as appropr.ute to the
month 1 write in:—
“ If the grass grow in Janiveer,
It grows the worse for’t all the year!
And another for the month of this present
publication :
“ All the months in the year.
Curse a fair Februcre!”
But I must “ draw up. - ’ 1 cannot ask more
room, litis' mouth—for there are other and
more amusing correspondents of tlie Messen
ger, who must have fair play. And so (are
well for another month. J. F. O.
To a Lady with a Veil.
Lady! why close that envious veil ?
Unhallowed thoughts could never rise
Whilst gazing on that gentle face,
Whilst meeting those pure, heavenly eyes.
Dost think the playful butterfly
Would add one color to its wing,
If to the haunts of mortal’s eye
It would not all its beauties bring ?
Would’st think the rose more sweet lo tltee,
If jealous of its own perfume ?
Dost think that thou would’st lovelier be,
If hidden were thy beauty’s bloom ?
A beautiful face in veiled dress,
Is like the rose with closing leaves—
Ashamed of its own loveliness,
Or of tlie sweet perfume it breathes.
But if thou think’st the moon’s pure ray
Is loved the more when dimmed ils light,
Then, lady, close thy veil, 1 pray,
And hide thy beauties from my sight!
FEMALE INFLUENCE AND ENERGY.
I have observed 'hat a married m n falling
into misfortune is more apt to retrieve his
situation in the world than a single one;
chiefly because his spirits are soothed and re
trieved by domestic endearments,and bis self
respect kept alive by finding that, although all
abroad be darkness and humiliation, yet there
is still a little world of love of which he is mo
narch. Whertas, a single man is apt to run
to waste and self-neglect; to fancy himself
lonely and abandoned, and his heart to fall to
rums, like some deserted mansion, for want of
an inhabitant. I have often had occasion to
mark the fortitude with which women sustain
the most overwhelming reverses of fortune.
Those disasters which break down tlie spirit of
a man and prostrate him in the dust, item to
call forth all the energies of the softer sex, and
give such intrepidity and elevation to their din
racter, that, at times, it approaches to sublimi
ty. Notiiing can lit: more touching than to
behold a soft and tender female, who had been
all meekness and dependance. und alive to
every trivial roughness, while treading the
prosperous path ot life, suddenly rising in men
tal force to be the comforter and supporter
of her husband under misfortune, abiding with
unshrinking firmness, the bitterest blast of ad
versity. As the vine which has long twined
its graceful foliage about the oak, and been lift,
ed by its sunshine, will, when the hardy plant is
rifted by the thunderbolt, cling round it with
caressing tendrils, and hind up its shattered
boughs; so is it beautifully ordered by Provi
dence that woman, who is the ornament and
dependant ot man in his happier hours, should
be his stay and solace when smitten with sud
den calamity, winding herself into the rugged
recesses of his nature, tenderly supporting the
drooping head, and binding up the broken
heart. Washington Irving.
AFFECTED TITLE PAGES.
A most barberous taste for titles has, from
time to time, exhibited itself among authors.
Some works have oeen called “Matches lighted
by tlie Divine Fire,”—and one “The Gun of
Penitence;” a collection of passages from the
fathers is called “ The shop of the Spiritual
Apothecary.” VVe have “The Bank of Faith,”
and “ Six-peny.worth ofDivine Spirit.” One
of these works bears the following elaborate
title: “Some fine Baskets baked in the oven
of Charity, carefully conserved for the Chick
ens of the Church, the Sparrows of the Spirit,
’ and the sweet Swallows ofSalvation !” Some
times their quaintness has some humor. Oi e
Sir Humphrey Lind, a zealous puritan, pub
lished a work which a Jesuit answered by an
other, entitled “ A pair of Spectacles for Sir
Humphrey Lind ;” the doughty knight retor
ted by “A Case foi Sir Humphrey Lind’s
; Spectacles!” Some of these obscure title'
| have an entertaining absurdity : as “ The
j three Daughters of Job,” which is a treatise
on the three virtues of patience, fortitude, and j
pain. “ The Innocent Love, or the Hol\ '
Knight," is a description of the ardors of a
I saint for the V irgin. “The sound of the Trum
f [>et. is a work on the day of judgment,—am' j
J" A Fan to drive away Flies” is a tlieologi
jCal treatise o.i Purgatory,
Boston Traveller.
From the Southern Literary Mes»*rig er
i Love thee still.
I love thee still—though doomed to drink
Os fell despair's mist bitter rill—-
Though sever’d be life’s dearest liuk,
I love thee still.
I love thee still—and though I give
Myself to roam o’er dale and hill,
Thy image in my heart shall live—
I’ll love the still.
I love thee still—and though thy brow
Should wear the marks of death’s last chilL
I’ll not forget my sacred vow,
I’ll love th* still.
I love the still—and I will own,
When through my waning senses thrill
The last sad notes on trumpet blown,
I love the still.
LYRICIS.
"*
ROBERT ON THE DOME OF ST. PETER’s, AT
ROME.
I raiislate I from “ Memo ires de Mid me
hi Duchesse d'Abmntes." One must have
nerves ol steel to read, without trembling, this
account ol Robert’s perilous enterprise. ° R O .
bert was an enthusiastic young painter, a pu.
ptl of the French Academy, scut lo Rome to
study the Irescoes. Literary Gazete.
Robert was one day at St. Peters. The
•’.our of divine service past, and he was almost
alone. Ihe silent and religious quiet of tiffs
vast edifice, was interrupted only bv the foot
st. ps of a lew casual visitors. Robert cast on
all s des his look of ardent enthusiasm, in
search of new wonders. On a sudden, lie
saw a rope descend from the opening at the
top of the grand cupola; a workman having
approached, fastened to it a bucket of water,
and it again ascended. The roof was out of
repair, and some masons w ere at work upon it.
1 his gave him the idea of ascending the cu.
pola.
“I was curious,” said he, “to examine as
closely as possible, the injury done to this co.
lossus of modem architecture, which, shooting
up towaids heaven, seems contemptuously to
say to the ruined monuments around it, 1 am
eternal. Its pride seemed to me much lower,
ed. That ro|ie, that bucket, and that solitary
workman, struck me as contemptible.”
He ascended the dome. On his arrival at
the summit, he was struck with admiration and
wonder at the magnificent prospect before him.
It was a splendid and living panorama, lighted
by sunbeams so different from those of every
other country, covering nature with a bright
ami glorious veil of beautiful colors, which
floats over the buildings, trees, and land of Ita
ly alone. He then looked more nearly around
him, and perceived a few workmen repairing
some, sight damage done to the r< ofof the dome.
Io obtain water with greater ease, they had
placed across the opening of the cupola two
long planks tied together; over them a rope
was thrown, which descended into the church.
1 licso planks might lx? two feet and a half in
width, and >s the apparatus was intended mere
ly to support a bucket of water, no one cared
whether it would or would not bear a greater
weight.
Looking oil these things with the eyes of a
young man of twenty, with eyes that sec dan
| ger only to brave and laugh at it. R<>lx?rt b ’gaa
l to think that it must lie a singular sight to l>c
jhold St. Peter’s fiom top to bottom, tlie re
verse of the manner in which every thing that
lias base and summit is generally seen—name.
Iy» fiom bottom to top. This idea soon took
such possession of his inind, that he must needs
satisfy it. Never once calculating whether
| the plank across this open ng. which was 300
feet from the ground, was strong enough to
j bear his weight, he placed one foot upon it. then
the other, and behold him upon this dangerous
| bridge, without any possibility of turning back!
When, for the first time, he told ine this sto
| ry, the instant I saw him upon the plank, sus-
I pended, as it were, between heaven and the
hard marble floor, upon which he m’ght be
dashed to atoms, 1 was seized with a giddiness
such as lie might himself be expected to have
felt when in this critical situation. We sur
rounded him closely, eager to catch every word
lie uttered, and following him step by step,
across this dangerous bridge.
“Scarcely had I performed a third of my
journey,” said he, “ when eager to enjoy tlie
spectacle I sought, I cast iny eyes below ! At
the same instant, a hissing sound whizzed thro’
my years, my he id became covered with a veil
of darkness, succeeded by one of fire—l was
S' ized. in short, with the most horrible vertigo.
Fortunately, I had presence of mind immedi
ately to shut my eyes and stand sti’l. I can
not express to you what I felt at this moment,
when I heard voices close to mvears, uttering
in whispers, the most dreadful blasphemies!
It was the workmen ! I opened mv eves to
continue my perilous journey, for 1 felt that if
I remained a minute longer in this situution, I
should die even without falling.”
He was advancing with a firm step upon that
narrow plank, when lie felt the wood crack un
der him! He was then in the middle of the
plank, and the weight of his body, so much
greater than that of the water-bucket, must
necessarily break the bridge, and he be preci
pitated to the bottom.
“ Ah!” said a lad, who heard the wood
crack, “ the plank is rotten ! The unhappy
man will f
He did iot pronounce tlie word; for the
head workman placed his hand upon the lad’s
mouth.
When Robert reached the other side, and
saw the plank, the abyss, and death behind him,,
he fell upon his knees, and poured forth his
humble thanksgivings to Almighty God for hi&
delivery from danger. .
“ Ah! my friends,” said he to the workmen*
with a smile of ineffable joy, and his eyes swim
ming in tears, “how happy I am!”’
But instead of sharing his delight, the work
men seized and beat him furiously.
“Cursed Frenchman! rascal! scoundrel!”
lowled the chorus of masons, “ villian, how
v ou frightened us !”
f.pigram.
Vav, woman is not the soft twx„my dear Fan.
Or why ia her heart hard as stone ?
Pray, tell me : was Eve form'd of flesh, like the man T
No, no, she waa form’d of the bone.
“ More haste, worse speed,” as the omnibus
said to the express mail.