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<Mi ! hud we some bright littl* isle of onr own.
In a him: summer ocean tar off and alone.
When: a leaf never dies in the still l.loomiu
bowers, [of lb wars.
And the beejhuriqriets oil through a whole year
Where the, sun loves to pause
\V ilh so fond a delay,
That the night only draws
A thin veil o’er the day ; [live,
Where simply to (eel that we breathe. I hut we
Is worth the best joy that life el -.e where can give.
There with souls ever anient and pure us the
dime, [den lime -.
We should love as they loved in the first gol-
The glow of the sunshine, the Imlrn of the air,
W’ould steal to our hearts, and make all suu>-
Witli affection, as free finer there ;
From deeline as the bowers ;
And with hope, like the bee,
Living always on flowers:
Our life should resemble a long day ofligbt,
And our death come on holy and calm as the
night.
A SPANISH SERANADE.
By the author of tVaverly •
Love wakes and weeps
While Beauty sleeps!
O for Music’s softest numbers,
To prompt a theme
For Beauty's dream,
Soft as the pillow ol her slumbers.
Through groves of palm
bigh gales of balm,
Fire-flies on the air are wheeling ;
While through the gloom
Come soft perfume,
The distant beds of flowers revealing.
O wake and live,
No dream can give
A shadow’d bliss, the true excelling:
No longer sleep,
From lattice peep,
And list the tale that love is telling.
• ‘
FIIOM THE SPANISH.
They say they’ll to my Wedding go.
They ay they’ll to my wedding go,
B 1 will have no husband—no ’
I'll rather live serene and still
Upon a solitary hill,
Thau bend me to another’s will,
And he a slave in weal and woe .
No ! I will have no husband—no !
No ! mother ! I've no wish to prove
The doubtful joys of wedded lose—
Ami from these Howry pathways rove
Where innoeenc and comfort grow—
No ! I will have no husdand—no !
And heaven, I'm sure, ne’er meant that he
Should thy young daughter’s husband be :
We have no common sympathy—
So let youth’s bud unbroken blow—
For I w ill have no husband—no !
HEAVEN.
Tune— This world in all a fleeting show.
‘•This world’s” not “ all a fleeting show
For man’s illusion given
He that hath sooth'd a widow's wo,
Or w ip’d an orphan’s fear doth know
There’s something hereof Heaven.
And he that walks life's thorny w ay
With feelings ralm and even,
Whose path is lit from day to day,
By virtue’s bright and steady ray,
Hath something felt of Heaven.
lie that the Christian's course hath run,
And ail his foes forgiven,
Who measure's out life's little span
In love to Cod and love to man,
On earth hath tasted Heaven.
SCi.M VI THE HEADING OF Al'ilLl,.
As the tanner’s widow waxed
sickly and infirm, she became an
entu ing object lor Mrs. Doldrum,
an inhabitant of Leighton Buzzard,
one of those human screech owls
who prowl about the abodes of mis
ery and death, croaking out dismal
tidings, and hovering over corpses.
She seemed only happy when sur
rounded by wretchedness, and her
undertaker-like mind appeared to
live upon death. When she could
not treat herself with a dissolution,
she would look about her for a bro
ken leg, a bankruptcy, a family
where there was a dishonoured
daughter, a runaway son, or any
calamity she could by good fortune
discover. “Oh my clear friend,”
she exclaimed to Airs. Pitman, a
short time previous to her death,
“ 1 am so delighted to see you,
(here a groan)—you know mv re
gard for you, (another groan)—
seeing vour bed room shutters clos
ed, I took it for granted it was all
over with you, so I came in just to
close vour eyes ancl lay out your
body. Delighted to find you alive,
(gioan the third) —let us be of good
cheer, perhaps you may yet linger
out a week longer, though it would
he a great release if it would please
God to take you.—(Groan the
fourth) —and yet I fear you are
sadly prepared for the next world.
(Groan the fifth and longest.) You
know my regard for you. The
Lord be good unto us! Hark! is
that the death watch ? I certainly
hear a ticking.” /
This consolatory personage was
B all alive the moment she heard ol
Mrs. Pitman’s death, which occur
red shortly after ; and she was ob
viously in her proper element when
superintending the closing ol win
dow shutters, and all the minute
arrangements adopted on such
mournful occasions. At her own
particular request, she was indulg
ed with the privilege of sitting up
with the body the first night, and
would not even resign her station
on the second, which was the time
appointed for the reading of the
will. Frank Millington had he n
sent for express to attend this mel
ancholy ceremony ; Mr. Swipes and
Mr. Currie were, of course, pres
ent, in deep mourning, with visages
to match, and each with a white
pocket handkerchief to hide the
tears which he feared he would be
unable to shed. Mr. Drawl, the
attorney, held the portentous docu
ment in his hand, bristling with
seals ; and two or three friends
were requested to attend as wit
nesses. The slow and precise man
of law, who shared none of his au
ditor’s impatience, was five min
utes in picking the locks oflhe seals,
as many more in arranging his
spectacles, and having deliberately
blown his nose, through which he
always talked, (as if to clear the
way) he at length began his lecture.
As the will, at the old lady’s re
quest, had been made as short and
simple as possible, he had succeed
ed in squeezing it into six large
skins of parchment, which we shall
take the liberty of crushing into as
many lines, After a few unim
poitant legacies to servants and
others, it stated that the whole res
idue of her property, personal and
real, consisting of , here
a formidable schedule of houses,
farms, messuages, tenements, buil
dings, appurtenances, stocks, bonds,
moneys, and possessions occupy
ing twenty minutes in the re< ital,
was bequeathed to her dear cous
ins, Samuel Swipes, of the Pond
street brewery, and Christopher
Currie, of the Market place, Sad
dler—
H ere Mr. Drawl laid down his
parchment, drew his breath, blew
his nose,and began to wipe his spec
tacles, in which space of time, Mr.
Swipes was delivered of a palpable
arid incontestible snivel, in the get
ting up whereof he was mainly as
sisted by a previous cold ; and en
deavoring to enact a S ob, which,
however, sounded more like gar
gling his throat, he ejaculated—
“ Generous creature! worthy wo
man ! kind soul!”
Air. Currie, who thought it sa
fer to be silently overcome by his
feelings, buried his face in his
handkerchief, whence he finally
emerged with indisputable red and
watery eyes, though it is upon re
cord that he had been noticed that
morning grubbing about the onion
bed in bis own garden, and 1 had
btenseen to stoop down and pick
something up. 1 hey were both,
with an ill-concealed triumph, be-;
ginning to express to Frank, their
regietihat he had not been named,
and to inform him that they could
dispense with his farther attend-;
ante, when Mr. Drawl, with his
calm nasal twang, cried out” Pray
gentlemen,keep \ our seats—l have
not done yet and resuming the
parchment and his posture, thus
proceeded: “Let me see—where
was 1 ? Ay, Samuel Swipes,of Pond
srreet Brewery, and Christopher
Currie, of the Marketplace, Sad
dler'—and then, raising his voice
to adapt it to the large German
text words that came next, he sang
out— “ln trust, for the sole and
exclusive use and benefit of my
dear nephew, Frank Millington,
when he shall have attained the
age of twenty-five years ; by which
time I hope he will have so far re
formed his evil habits as that he
may safely he entrusted with the
large fortune which I hereby be
queath to him.”
“ What’s all this?” exclaimed
Mr. Swipes — k You don’t mean that
we’re humbugged ! In trust! How
does that appear? Where is it?’—
Mr. Drawl, depositing his specta
cles, looking up at the ceiling, snd
scratching the under part of his
chin, pointed to the two fatal words,
which towered conspicuously
among the multitude oi their com
panions ; and the brewer’s nether
jaw gradually fell down,till itcrum
bled and crushed the frill of his
shirt. Air. Ciurie with a pale face
and goggle eyes stood staring at
his co-tvustee, not exactly under
standing what it all meant, though
he saw by his countenance that
there was some sudden extinction
of their hopes. As the was
dated several years back, Franc
only wanted three weeks of the
stipulated period ol possession,and,
as he hastily revolved in his mind
all the annoyances he had occa
sioned his aunt, and the kind gen
et ositv with which she had treated
him, his eyes remained fixed on
the carpet, and the tears fell fast
on the backs of his crossed hands.
London Magazine.
The advantages of Temperance.
A blacksmith in the city of Phil
adelphia, some years ago, was com
plaining to his Iron merchant that
such was the scarcity of money,
that he could not pay his rent. —
The merchant then asked him how
much rum he used in his family in
the course ofa day Upon his an
swering th is question, the merchant
made a calculation, and showed
him that his rum amounted to more
money in the year than his house
rent. The calculation so astonish
ed the mechanic that he determin
ed from that day to buy and drink
no more spirits of anv kind. In
the course of the next ensuing year
he paid his rent, and bought anew
suit of clothes out of the savings
of his temperance, he persisted
in it through the course of his life,
and the consequence was compe
tence and respectability.
From an .'lddrcss to a Xew- York Agricultural
Society.
Industry. —lmagine to yourselvs,
all the blessings of industry, such
as well improved farms, with a
suitable proportion ol meadow,
! pasture, and arable land, with good
| fences,* fine orchards, groves of
j wood and timber. Fine horses.
I fine stocks of neat cattle, sheep and
swir.e, with houses, cellars, and
j granaries filled with the fruits of
’ industry, and a surplus sufficient
to purchase all the conveniences,
lande-en the luxurtes of life, if you
: wish. On the other hand, imagine
jto yourselv es all the miseries and
degraded wretchedness of poverty,
which is the fruit of idleness and
want of energy, empty houses and
! cellars,and broken windows ; barns
| hall covered, and little or nothing
iin them, fences down, and a few
! poor animals destroying the pro
| duct of what little labor you per
i form; your families half fed and
j halt clothed, the sheriff watching
Ibis opportunity to carry you to
prison ; and what is more, the fin
ger of scorn from every traveller,
is pointed at your house, your barn,
your fences, and to whatever you
possess.
To the Editors of the American.
Gentlemen. —The following, from
sud experience, 1 know to he hue as
holy writ ; if you think proper to in
sert it in your paper, you will oblige
K. W.
If you wish to be always thirsty, be a
drunkard, for the oftener and more
you drink, the oltenerand more thirs
ty vou w ill he.
/
If you seek to prevent your friends
from raising you in the world, be a
drunkard, for that will defeat all their
efforts.
If you would effectually counteract
your own attempts to do well, be a
drunkard, and you will not be disap
pointed.
If you wish to repel the endeavour*
of the whole human race to raise you
to character, credit and prosperity, be
a drunkard,, and you will most as
suredly triumph.
If you are determined to be poor,
be a drunkard, and you will soon be
ragged and pennyless.
If you wish to starve your family,
be a drunkard, for that will consume
the means of their support.
If you would he imposed on by
knaves, be a drunkard, for that will
make their task easy.
If you wish to be robbed, he a
drunkard, which will enable the tliie f
to do it with more safety.
If you wish to blunt your senses, he
a drunkard, and you will soon lose
your understan ling.
If you wish to unfit yourself for ra
tional intecoursc, be a drunkard, for
that will render you whoiy unfit for
it.
If you are resolved to kill yourself,
be a d runkard, that being a sure mode
of destruction.
If you would expose both your folly
and secrets, be a drunkard,, and they
will soon run out as the liquor runs
in.
If you think you are too strong be a
drunkard, and you will soon be sub
dued by so powerful an enemy.
If you would get rid of your money
without knowing how he a drunkard,
and it will vanish insensibly.
; v If ? oil would have ho resource when
past labour, be a drunkard, and you
will be unable to provide any.
If you would lie a pest to society,
I be a drunkard, ami you will lie avoid
i ed a* infectious.
if you would wish to be despised,
by your cliildren; be a drunkard, and
they will study to forget that such a
one was their lather.
If you wish to be wretched heie,
ami most miserable hereafter, be a
drunkard, for you oust certainly will
be.
A person having purchased a
watch, placed it in his fob, and
strutting across the floor, says to
his wife, ‘Where shall I drive a
nail to hang my watch upon, that
it may not be disturbrd and broke?’
‘I do not know a safer place,’ re
plied his wife, ‘ than in our Meat
Barrel —I’m sure no one will go
there to disturb it.’
A man in London has been con
victed of breaking his wife’s jaw.—
j He said that he had repeatedly or-.
! dered her to hold her tongue, which ■
j she would not comply with, and
I so he thought it best to break her
People who are resolved to please
always, at all events frequently over
shout the mark, and render themselves ;
ridiculous by being too good. A lady !
going to eat plumb cake ami candy at j
a friend's house one morning, ran to
the cradle to see the fine hoy, as soon
as she came in. Fufurtunately a large
black cat had taken up the baby’s place;
but before she could give herself time
to see her mistake, site exclaimed, with
up'ifted eyes and hands, “ Oh what a
sweet child ! the very picture of Us fa
ther. 1 ”
Extract from Cox’s Female Scripture Biography.
“ Solomon pronounces beauty to
be vain; and the history of the w orld
will show, that in innumerable in
instances it has betrayed its fair
possessors into many snares. Ex
perience, however, in this respect,
does not seem to teach wisdom ;
for the wish to acquire the attrac
tions which beauty confers, seems
to be no less prevalent in the pres
ent age, than it was at the earliest
period of the world. How many
hours of the day, and how many
davs of the wasted year, do some
females devote to the improvement
of their persons; impossible as it
has ever been, and ever will be
found, to make one hair black or
white, to add one cubit to the stat
ure, to bend one unttactable fea
ure into the admired curve to which
common consent attributes grace
and loveliness; the impossible
transformation is nevertheless at
tempted. The treasures of opu
lence are exhausted ; the more val
uable possession of health is often
sacrificed at the shrine of vanity ;
and while the noble distinctions of
cultivated intellect and solid piety
aie neglected, the ostentatious de
coration of exterior polish is sought
with useless and guilty avidity.—
The most effectual means of cor
recting this error, is in early life to
commence the important business
ol moral discipline by a solid edu
cation. If a greater degree of at
tention be paid to showy than to
substantial acquirements ; If young
ladies be systematically prepared |
to shine and attract, instead of be- i
ing assiduously formed to be useful
in the stations to w hich Providence
has assigned them ; it may be ex
pected that they should become so-
I iicitons of courting admiration, ra
ther than of w inning esteem ; they
will necessai ily he unfitted for do
mestic management, and disquali
fied for the sober realities of life.
There is a species of parental va
nity, against which we would loud
-1) appeal. Some persons are ex
tremely anxious that their daugh
ters should poasess all the attrac
tions of beauty ; and from their
earliest infancy, a concern for ap
• pearances is instilled into them, as
of the first impottance. If young
persons so unhappily circumstan
ced, should receive a wrong bias,
we cannot feel surprised ; and it
will require a long course of salu
tary discipline, combined with the
j inculcation of religious principles,
I effectually to teach them, that to
: see, and to he seen, are not the great
‘purposes of human existence ; that
1 they must live for nobler ends, and
I secure the approbation of the wise
and good by other accomplishments
than a taste for the arrangement of
a ribbon, or the harmony of a tune.
Unless they should be unfortunate
enough to rueet with none but flip
pant and vacant admire; s, to
Hattering nothings they are :
to listen, they will find, that
sons of real worth, are not to IH!.’1 H !.’
tracted by tinsel decorations
a butterfly exterior,and that-.- \j ‘
I has a relish more refined ;’ and v*
rather breathe the following
n-ient, as the appropriate l
of a noble enthusiasm, connVe’
with rationality and religion
” Souls itri- tor Jocial liliss designed
(iNv me a Mfssiev (it to match my mind
A kindred soul to double uud to slue ■
joys.” , l: B, y
Socrates apd Janus Christ Compaq
I will confess to you, that the
Majesty of the Scriptures stril
me with admiration, as the p u ,' ; ,
of the gospel hath its influence 0
my heart. Peruse the wciks
our philosophers with all theii
pomp of diction ; how mean, hov,
contemptible are they compand
with the Scriptures! Is it possible
that a book, at once so simple and
sublime, should be merely the word
I of man ? Is it possible that the sa
• creel personage, whose history i t
contains, should be himself a men
man? Do we lind,thathe assumed
the tone of an enthusiast or ambi.
tious sectary? What sweetness,
what purity in his manner! What
an affecting gracefulness in his de
livery ! What profound wisdom
jin his discourses. What presence
of mind, what subtlety, what truth
in his replies ! How gieat the com
mand over his passions ! Where is
the man, where the philosopher,
! who could so live, and so die, with
out weakness, and without ostena
tion ! When Plato described his
imaginary good man loaded with
all the shame of guilt, vet meriting
the highest rewards of virtue, lie
describes exactly the character of
Jesus Christ: the resemblance was
so striking, that all the fathers per*
ceivecl it.
What prepossession, what blind
ness must it be, to compare the son
of Sophroniscus to the son of Ma
ry ! W hat an infinite disproportion
is there between them ! Socrates,
dying without pain or ignominy,
easily supported his character to
the last: ancl if his death, however
easy, had not crowned his life, it
might have been doubted whether
Socrates, with all his wisdom, was
any thing more than a vain sophist.
He invented, it is said, the theory
of morals. Others, however, had
before put them in practice : he
had only to sa\, therefore, what
they had clone, and to reduce their
examples to precepts. Aristides
had been just before Socrates de
fined justice ; Leonidas has given
up his life for his country, before
Socrates declared patriotism to be a
duty ; the Spartants were a sober
people, before Socrates recommen
ded sobriety ; before he had even
defined virtues. Greece abound
in virtuous men. But where could
Jesus learn, among his competitors,
that pure and sublime morality, ot
of which he only hath given us both
precept and example ? Ihe great
est wisdom was made known
amongst the most bigoted fanati
cism, and the simplicity of the most
heroic virtues did honor to the
vilest people on earth. The deatli
of Socrates, peaceable, philosophi
jzing with his friends, appears the
most aggreeable that could he wish
ed for that of Jesus, expiring in
the midst of agonizing pai ns, abus
ed, insulted, and accused by a
whole nation, is the most horrible
that could be feared, Socrates, in
receiving the cup of poison blessed
indeed the weeping executioner
who administered it ; but Jesus, in
midst of excruciating tortures,pray
ed for his merciless tormentors.
Yes if the life and death of Socra
tes weie those of a sage, the life
and death of Jesus are those of a
God. Shall we suppose the evan
gelic histoiy a mere fiction? In
deed my friend, it hears, no/ t the
marks ol fiction, on the contrary,
the history ol Soctater,, which no
body presumes to doubt, is not so
well attested as that of Jesus Christ-
Such a supposition, in fact, only
shifts the difficulty without obvia
ting it; it is more inconceivable
that a number of persons should
agree to write such a history, than
that one should furnish the sub
ject of it. The Jewish author*
were incapable of the diction, and
strangers to the morality contained
in the gospel, the marks of whose
truth are so striking and inimita
ble, that the. inventor would be a
more astonishing character than th*
hero. fyusseau