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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.