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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