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of the dea(M‘St malice. 1 lie } outh in
bonds was of graceful person and hand
somdfcjtfcesjlk't they were not those
of ajan o£i character or courage.
wSe of a deadly paleness—
the lips quivered with apprehension
the and expression weie those
4 one torally unequal to the trial that
before him. His eye wandered
restlessly and apprehensive!} to the
countenances of one or the other ot
the three parties to whom the reader
has been introduced, without daring to
Encounter the gaze ot eithei. \ elas
quez watched his movements with the
exultation of a cat in possession of her
prey. ‘Hie face of Juan bore a similar
expression; while in the fine masculine
spirit w’hieli made itselt conspicuous in
the face of the woman, in spite of all
her efforts to subdue it, there might be
seen a strange conflict between tender
ness and scorn.
“ Unbind him!” said Velasquez.
“Oh thanks! thanks!” muttered the
victim, looking appealingly to his ty
rant. The scorn deepened in its sha
dows upon the face of the woman.
“You know r not yet for what you
have to be thankful,” was the sneer of I
Juan, as he busied himself in undoing
the manacles.
“Speak to me, Juan. For what am j
1 reserved? what may this mean if it I
be mercy l
* % 0*
“It means freedom, was the res- ;
ponse, still iuMwhisper.
“We V#hat ”
“ May be’ mercy,” was the ironical
return of Juan, as he withdrew’ from
between Velasquez and his prey. The
latter now looked with features in which
hope and were still at a lively
struggle, upon the face ot his tyrant.
He made a step toward him. The up
lifted hand of Velasquez arrested his
approach.
“ Lopez de Leyva, were 1 to have
thee drawn ujWyv the neck to yon spar,
as the hectic. raiglish do those whom
they \v< A destroy, it were no more
than But I am of a
more merciful temper — I have taken
the chains snap thy limbs.”
A overspread the
featureifH the person addressed; but
he still trembled with a natural anxiety
and doubt. He knew his tyrant.
“ I mean to set thee free!”
“Nay, I will do more for thee than
this. I will elevate thee to rare digni
o
ties. I will make thee a chief, a prince,
a sovereign of land and sea. Thou
shalt be able to stand up in thine em
pire, will say thee nay.”
A pause. *The culprit looked wildly
at this language, it was something
more than apprehension that shone in
his face. There was no mistaking the
hideous malice of the speaker; there!
was no doubting the ironical grin upon
the lips of Juan; and the experience
of the ship had seldom found mercy or ;
forgiveness or generosity in either. The j
eye of the woman was now fixed fully
upon that of Velasquez, her intense in
terest in what she had to hear making
her somewhat, relax in the stubborn
vigilance of thought which had im
pressed itself upon all her features.
Velasquez resumed:
“ The quiet of this part of the Ca
ribbean Sea, as- thou well knowest, is
seldom broken by the prows of Euro
peans. The savage steers his bark in
other courses, dreading its wild cur
rents and fearful whirlpools. Here, he
who shall make his abode will be a
sovereign beyond dispute. It may be
ages before he will see upon his hori
zon,* driven by hostile tempests, the
white sails of a Christian vessel. No
empire could be more secure from chal
lenge—no state more certainly beyond
the danger of overthrow.”
Another pause, and a conviction of
what at once passed into
soul of thtf woman. Her hands were
griped convulsively together, and the
paleness ot her cheek increased. The
culprit, to w hom \ elasquez addressed
himself, simply appeared bewildered.
( hains, confinement, terror, and proba
bly want ot food and sleep, had ren
dered his faculties obtuse. But Velas
quez proceeded rapidly to his complete
enlightenment
” Look out upon the sea. good Lo
pez, ’ and hiss hand waved in the direc
tion of the object to which the ship
had been sensibly approaching. At a
league’s distance a little island was
distinctly perceptible, though seeming
to be scarcely upheaved above the bil
lows which encircled it. Trees in
groups might be seen to wave upon it,
the earth rose into moderate hills and
elevations as tin- eye penetrated the
interior. Numerous wild-fowl sailed
in swift gyrations above it, and gigan
tic birds strode majestically along its
white and sandy shores.
1 hat island, Lopez de Levya, I dis
covered for the first time when 1 last
traversed this ocean. I made the dis
covery against my own w ill, being dri
ven hither by stress of weather. 1 lit
tle dreamed at that time of its future
usefulness fitit when our weather-bea
ten pilot, old Gomez, in beholding its
solitude, declared that it would be the
spot, of all the world, in which love
would be most, likely to find security,
w o called it, in a merry jest, ‘The Isle
>f Lovers, and when 1 remembered
that it was farther said, ‘One might be
a sovereign here without paying his
tenth to any crown,’ then did 1 conceive
how fitly 1 might reward merit, by be
stowing this island upon the deserving—
upon one w'ould desiresecurity for
his love and a sovereignty beyond dis
pute.”
The eyes of the culprit were gra
dually enlarging. Tic had slowly be
gun to guess the terrible destiny which
was before him, and the first feeling of
overwhelming apprehension necessarily
kept him dumb. He looked at his ty
rant with eyes full of vacant terror.
The latter gave him but few moments
for meditation or doubt, as he thus
proceeded:
“Thou hast done me great wrong,
Lopez de Levya. Thou hast auda
ciously presumed upon the lady of my
love. For this wrong will I reward
thee! We are commanded, as thou
knowest, my son, to forgive those who
do us injury. I will go farther than
the commandment. I will honour thee
with wealth and territory, and the high
est distinction. Henceforth shalt thou
be a prince, an absolute sovereign, Lo
pez de Levya, and as thy suitable em
pire behold the ‘ Isle of Lovers,’ which
I now’ bestow upon thee. There shalt
thou make music to the night, with no
constraint. None shalt say nay to thy
strumming. If thou shalt please no
damsel’s ears with thy song, thou shalt
at least offend in nothing the rights of
others. Thou shalt sing thy areytos to
the stars, and find them more gentle in
thy sight than such eyes as thou hast
but too frequently offended with thy
wilful fondness. Am 1 not right in
this, lady mine?” and with a smirk
quite as full of sarcasm as of tender
ness the persecutor of both parties
turned his gaze from the face of the
wretched man to that of the scarcely
less wretched woman. But he gained
nothing by the scrutiny. Her glance
was fixed and obdurate, and conveyed
no meaning in it, such as that which
his jealous suspicions might have looked
to see. He watched her features for a
few moments w ith a dissatisfied expres
sion, then resuming his former tones
and aspect, he addressed himself to his
nephew, J uan:
“Juan, my son, we trust we have
sufficiently said to make this excellent
prince understand what honors are de
signed him in requital for his evil deeds.
It is for thee to do the rest. Take the
prince, therefore, conduct him to the
boat, and do thou see him safely placed
within the limits of his empire. Give
him provision for a month, in which
space of time doubtless he will be able
to bring his subjects to proper subjec
tion and take his tithes of the produce
of the land. Give him a crossbow and
a spear, that he may coerce them should
they rebel or fly, and see that you for
get not to hang his guitar about his
neck, that he may regale his hours of
recreation and repose with the precious
ditties he so much loves to sing in other
ears. So shall lie have pleasing recol
lections of one, at least, for whom he
will scarcely ever touch guitar again.”
(Continued in our next.)
(Diginol i-ssmp.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE READER.
A Series of Letters. Number One.
INTRODUCTORY.
April 10, 1850.
Mr. Editor : —lt has occurred to me
that I cannot occupy the leisure mo
ments which I sometimes have, more
pleasantly than by writing to you. If
you find my letters sufficiently inter
esting, you are at liberty to publish
them. In these days of “ Correspon
dents,"’ the mania has reached me, and
I feel inclined to put myself in the
ranks.
Perhaps the first thing to be done in
an introductory epistle, is to make you
acquainted with your correspondent.
But not having the reputation which
gave eclat to the letters of “ Grace
Greenwood” or the romantic position
to dilate upon which “ Kate Conyng
hame” assumes, or the advantages of
‘ sight seeing, which enables “ Clara
Cushman” to interest her readers, I find
little to say of myself, except of my
inner-life, which if these letters are true
to the impulse which dictates them, will
be developed in due time. I can only
frankly tell you that l am not prac
tised in writing for the public; the
“ Listeners” which you had the good
ness to print for me being the princi
pal essays, 1 have attempted. lam
also remote from your city, and indeed
am living at present, where 1 have nei
ther city advantages, nor country plea
sures to expatiate upon. But I am
well supplied with books, both old and
new, and from the pages of the “ Lite
rary World,” “Neal’s Gazette,” and
your own paper, 1 glean something of
the world’s doings.
When the summer months tempt
southern birds to northern nests. I shall
visit the cities, and shall doubtless find
subjects of more general interest where
with to fill my letters. I am one of
those observers, however, who are very
prone to tinge all objects with their
own subjectivity—the result, I think, of
a strongly developed egotism. It is
useless for such people to attempt gen
eral description, or pure criticism.
Mow the matter affected me will
still be the theme, and therefore, I
have chosen that these remarks upon
‘ books’ which I now offer you, should
appear in the form of letters: a less
formal and more egotistical mode of
writing than any other.
My books have been my compan
ions, some of them choice indeed —
others allowed to trespass on my time
because they came in good company,
and some with whom I have made ac
quaintance fr<sfh curiosity. J have read
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
incessantly for nearly twenty years, of
ten indiscriminately, always eagerly,
frequently thoughtfully, and occasion
ally critically. From my childhood
hooka were my treasures, and 1 have
always been surrounded by them : all
airy stories and all other books writ
ten for children that ever were heard
of, fell into my hands. I can safely
say that when I was ten years old there
was not a book intended for young
people in a library, book store, or in the
possession of any person in the little
town in which 1 lived, that 1 had not
read, and also many, many volumes
which w'ere written for wiser and older
heads than mine. Then came tales of
wonder, voyages, travels, and roman
ces, and then the first reading of Lalla
Rookh followed by the Lady of the
Lake, Lord of the Isles, Mrs. Hemans,
Miss Landon, and on through the whole
list of poets, English and American to
Miss Barrett, Afred Tennyson and Ro
bert Browning. I have had a passion,
more properly an enthusiasm, for every
one, always excepting Milton and By
ron, whom strange to say, I have read
wdthout a particle of enthusiastic emo
tion. Indeed much as I have read him.
I never admired and wondered over,
and reverenced Shakespeare until with
in a few months.
There is a great deal of poetry, yes,
real poetry, which does not attract me
now ; it is very seldom that a novel can
interest me ; volumes of travel and ad
venture have become trite, and I find
myself reading more discriminately ;
inclining for “ light reading” to essays
and reviews, and drinking with more
pleasure at the old,almost forgotten and
moss-girt wells of literature, than
at, the silvery and sparkling fountains
which are usually formed by streams
which have issued from these old wells,
Imt which have trickled over pebbles
and rubbish until the orginal flavour of
the waters has been lost.
I am not now going back to the tomes
which lie forgotten on the shelves of
your readers. Ido not think I could
say any thing of them that lias not been
said again and again, and a hundred
times better than 1 could say it. I will
glance hastily in this letter over the vol
umes whose treasures have been opened
to me during the past winter, and in fu
ture letters will discuss more fully the
merits of some of our popular writers as
they commend themselves to me.
And now to the books of the day. Me
have had “ Lyell’s Second V isit” to our
country, and Mackay’s “ Western
World”—the most candid and liberal
volumes which Englishmen have conde
scended to write of the United States.
We have had Humboldt’s “ Aspects of
Nature” full of wonders, and filling our
minds with grand ideas of the world we
live in. Shaw’s “ English Literature”
though somewhat superficial, was most
interesting. Powell’s books have only
produced impatience and disgust.
“ Redburn” was extremely amusing,
and quite restored Melville to the favour
he had forfeited by his previous volume
of “ Omoo.” “ Los Gringos” was lively
and entertaining. “ The King of the
Hurons” excellent , a good novel. “ Ken
nedy’s Life of Wirt,,” a charming pic
ture of a most worthy and admirable
man. Willis’ “ People that I have met”
disappointed me inasmuch as I found
only old stories, read and forgotten long
ago, though sometimes brought to mind
since by being thrust before the public
in new forms. Can it be that these are
the offspring of the same brain whose
purer thoughts, whose “ Better mo
ments” once so impressed and charmed
me ! No, W illis is not the same be
ing as the Roy whose rhymes filled my
‘ Scrap-book’ in my school girl days.
He has grown worldly and heartless.
The “ unwritten music” no longer fills
his spirit and sends its echo out into
other souls. “Human happiness” has
given place to “ human pride,” and if
long since he “ unlearned contempt,”
he has learned the lesson anew and
taught it to others. But enough. I
have read “ Grace Greenwood’s” pret
ty sketches, and thought how these
would have charmed me ten years ago;
also, ‘ The St. Leger papers’ which I
used to glance over in the Knickerbock
er ; and an odd volume called “ De
sultoria” which no one seems to care to
acknowledge as his bantling. Ido not
wonder at it, for it is a sickly book with
a most unhealthy influence.
Mrs. George’s “ Annals of the Queens
of Spain” have been put aside : perhaps
L may read the volume, but it does not
attract me. Spain, its history, and its
literature, was a school girl hobby of
mine, and perhaps, when I have read
the publication on Spanish Literature
which has just appeared, 1 may return
to my former love. But of what use
is a book like Mrs. George’s to the gen
eral reader i As much, perhaps, as
some I read —but as I said before, it
looks sterile and unattractive —and must
at least, hide its time. “ Mahomet and
Ids Successors” pleased me well. It is
a graceful narrative —and the legends
of the Musselman’s faith, are very na
turally interwoven with the authentic
story. r fhe general reader will find it a
book of more than common interest.
1 titson’s “ Tour to the Caucasus” was
very interesting : full of information—
and that always conveyed in pleasant
manner. But it seemed to my feme
nine eyes, that he w as very much biased
in his favourable opinion of the policy of
Russia in regard to Circassia, and not
lenient enough to the brave men who are
selling their lives dearly in the cause of
their country’s freedom. “ Waraga, or
the Charms of the Nile” contained no
thing new —but 1 suppose would be
suffieientlv attractive to one not alreadv
V ft
surfeited with the theme.
Emerson’s new book —“ Representa
tive Men” awakened thought and inter
est —but 1 am too old fashionably or
thodox in my notions to be pleased with
the opinions he avows, lie seems “to
build his house upon the sands,” and I
fear the beautiful and imposing super
structure will fall because of the errors
in its foundation. Headly’s authorised
volume of Miscellanies, whiled away a
few moments, but In* is very superficial,
his books have never proved very read
able to me, and I have marvelled at
their popularity. 1 have Dana’s wri
tings still unread, though most of the
articles were I find, familiar to me long
since ; so with Poe’s. T saw recently Mr.
Graham’s defence of Mr. Poe from the
accusation Mr. Griswold makes. I was
glad to see it. I like to see as many
blemishes as possible removed from true
genius.
I picked up a stray English book,
bearing the name of “ Scenes in the
Life of an English Heiress,” but whose
character is .more fully told in its second
title of “ Disruption times in Scotland.”
It is a most graphic portrayal of the
causes which led to the separation of
the Evangelical or Free Kirk from the
Established Church of Scotland. I have
also read, for the first time, the “ Auto
biography of Alfieri,” and I hardly need
say that I was delighted. Alfieri is
justly characterised by Mr. Headly as “a
man who was all that Byron aspired to
be.” The Translation is by C. Edwards
Lester—whose renderings from the Ital
ian have considerable merit.
Now, of course I have read “ Khiily,”
and I have not mentioned it before, be
cause 1 w ish to speak more fully of Miss
Bronte’s merits as a w riter ; being a wo
man, I suppose I may speak critically of
one of my own sex. But I find L have
already nearly filled the sheet to which
I have limited this epistle—so I will
make my opinions of Miss Bronte, the
subject of another letter, should this be
accepted.
While enumerating my winter’s friends
I must not omit to make mention of
“ James Montjoy, or I’ve been Think
ing,” an admirable story ; also, “ Sir
Edward Graham” which was most in
teresting, because Harry, and Laura,
and Peter Grey, whose pranks in ‘‘Ho
liday House” charm all children, are re
presented there as grown up people,
and very worthy young people they
are —thanks to the best of grandmothers
“Lady Harriet,” and to “Uncle Da
vid,” the best of uncles.
1 will certainly be somewhat less ego
tistical in a second letter. You know
now pretty much all 1 have learned du
ring the winter ; so I can say nothing
more except a word as to my manner
of reading. lam very fond of my nee
dle ; when sewing, 1 am seldom miser
able or troubled with ennui or “ the
blues” But Ido not like sewing half
so w'ell at any other time, as when lis
tening to a good reader, and a good
book. Thus have 1 become acquainted
with the contents of all the volumes I
have mentioned, and have had in reading
the added pleasure of sympathy from
a congenial mind. Therefore, these pa
pers might with justice be entitled
“ Hours with my Needle” were I seek
ing a fancy name in these days of affec
tation.
I am, till I hear from you,
Your correspondent, if yon please.
c. 11. B.
FOR THE SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
EGERIA:
Or, Voices from the Woods and Wayside.
NEW SERIES.
1.
Fools. It is Seneca who says, “when
1 would place myself with a fool, l go
into a secret place with myself.” To
see a fool, we have but to seek for a
looking glass or a familiar —a wise
man, invoke God for a miracle —a true
man, seek a mother, who, with but one
son, has not made the boy her master.
11.
Resolve. He who resolves'frequent
ly, is apt to spend all his energies in his
resolutions. It is better to advance
upon the journey which you have pur
posed, even though the baggage should
be left behind.
111.
Wisdom. When, at more than a
hundred years of age, Theophrastus la
mented that he was about to die, just
as he was beginning to grow wise, we
see that he was mistaken. The very
lamentation for a prolonged life, on the
part of one who was “sans eyes, sans
mouth, sans teeth, sans everything,”
sufficiently proves that Theophrastus
was quite as far from wisdom as ever.
IV.
Ambition. If honours are from God,
ambition is by no means an unchristian
passion. It needs only to be shown, by
him who is ambitious of eminence, that
he will become his honours, and, in the
distinction, be not forgetful or incapable
of the duties of the place.
V.
Moral Objects. The knowledge to
find out one’s particular uses —the faith
to believe in one’s own mission—the
will to peril all worldly considerations
in its performance —these constitute the
proper objects of all moral training and
desire.
VI.
Soul and Soil. There is nothing in
the soil , if it be not in the soul of him
who works it. The earth flourishes
only in the smiles of God and the in
tents of man. A poor soil, as it isg^ie
parent of great necessities, will not
nnfreqaently make a great people; Imt
fertile lands are always a danger, since
the soul that: leaves every thing to the
soil, is itself likely to become barren.
VII.
Conscience. We should make terms
w ith conscience, if it be only to keep
peace in the family.
VIII.
Poets. The Poet of Fancy com
pares and contrasts; the Imaginative
Poet combines and personifies. ‘The
Poet of Fancy decorates and adorns;
he of Imagination creates and endows.
The one finds wings and colour for his
thought; the other makes of it a living
and a breathing soul.
IX.
Punishment. In the punishment of
death, society, in its fear or selfishness,
totally excludes from consideration one
of the great ends of punishment, which,
in protecting society, oughtnevertolose
sight of a regard for the recovery of the
offender. A citizen is a child of the
State, whom we should chastise for his
misdeeds, rebuke for his excesses, and
place equally out of the way of harm
and mischief; but whom no parent
should think of cutting off entirely,
while a sin is yet to be repented, and a
talent yet remains to be made useful.
X.
Phlegm. It is scarcely necessary to
counsel the human family against the
phlegmatic and the sceptic. It is sur
prising, indeed, how generally and cer
tainly men shrink from the presence of
the person of habitual sneer and denial.
It is by an instinct, bom of the human
necessity for sympathy, that such is the
case, rather than because of any pro
cess of reason which teaches that such
persons are to be avoided, for the
sceptic is usually a person, whose con
fidence in himself arises, not less from
his own conviction that he never of
fends against propriety, than from his
consciousness of superior endowment.
He has self-esteem, of course, but he
lias the exterior morals also. He is a
social Pharisee, and feels that he is no
blackguard like his neighbour, lie
never offends against the vulgar virtues
of the highway. But he is the greater
monster for all this, since he can com
ply with all the laws of decency, with
out having learned the first and sim
plest, which teaches the sympathies and
the affections.
XI.
Wealth. Our wealth does not so
much consist in our acquisitions as in
our performances, and lie is sometimes
the richest man who lias left himself
nothing.
XU.
Germs. To teach the child you must
study him, even as we examine the se
cret nature of the tree before we at
tempt its cultivation. If the acorn is
the sire of the oak, that does not by
any means render it necessary that it
should be boiled before it is planted.
Cimrntimml.
NEW TEXT BOOKS.
We invite the attention of teachers
this week to the following text books,
either new or new editions, and offer to
them our opinions, very briefly expressed,
of their individual merits.
]. Northend’s American Speaker.
2. Northend’s School 1 fialogues.
3. A New Treatise on Astronomy,
and the Use of the Ulobes. In Two
Parts. By James Mclntire, M.I ).
4. Grammar and Arithmetic. By
Charles Davies, L.L.D.
5. The School Song and Hymn Book.
Edited by Brittan A Sherwood.
0. Sabbath School Gems of Music
and Poetry. By J. AA. Cruiksliank.
7. Guide to the Temple of Time and
Universal History. By Emma Willard.
All these books are from the press of
Messrs. A. S. Barnes A Cos., of New-
York, and are issued in a style of me
chanical excellence indicative of intrinsic
merit.
Northend’s Speaker and 1 fialogues are
both excellent books, and we are happy
to say that their selections are quite un
exceptionable in their character.
Dr. Mclntire’s Treatise on Astronomy
is an attempt to find the happy medium
between the simple elementary books
and the scientific manuals of instruction
on this abstruse science. Without the
leisure necessary for a thorough exami
nation of the book, we are prepared to
say only’ this in its behalf, that it more
nearly approximates its object than any
other treatise, we know of.
1 )r. Davies’ “ Grammar of Arithmetic”
is an ingenious and scientific analysis of
the language of figures, well worthy of
the intelligent teacher’s notice, as con
taining new ideas upon the subject and
throwing light upon the difficult ques
tion, “How is arithmetic to be best
taught ?”
The “ School Song and Hymn Book ”
recommends itself. Music should be
taught in every school in the land, as
an essential branch of knowledge. It
improves, refines and elevates the mind.
This little manual is simple, and yet
comprehensive. The Sabbath Schools
“Gems of Poetry” are well “se£.” Let
the children learn to sing by all means.
Mrs. Willard’s “ G uide to the Temple
of Time and Universal History ” is one
of the multurn in parvo genus of books.
It is history at a glance —a bird’s-eye
view of the world’s annals; or, to adopt
a phrase quite fashionable at this time,
of the Past!
must be apparent, especially as
tion of its accuracy will scarcely present
itself to those who know the ability of
its compiler. The chart which accom
panies the text is quite invaluable for
reference.
[ln our general notices of such new
school books as find their way to our
“ Table ” we shall seek rather to inform
the teacher than to influence his judg
ment. A critical examination of each
book would involve the expenditure of
more time and space than we have at
command. —AW.]
(Original qOartrq.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
MAY.
O thou loved of birds and poets,
Youngest daughter of the Spring.
Who the firstlings of the Summer
To our Southern homes dost bring,
Memory links thee with the absent,
Cherished still, though far away,
With the banks of Mennomakee
And the waves of.Boston Bay.
Once, when thou in Northern vallies,
Scattering violets by the brooks,
Bade the Epigaea blossom
In the sunshine-haunted nooks,
And the red-breast in the orchard.
And the thrush upon the thorn,
Poured for thee their sweetest numbers,
In the hush of early morn, —
Quivering lips their farewells uttered,
Loving eyes with tears were wet;
Then were kisses benedictions
Which my heart can ne’er forget.
From the loved and loving banished.
Darkened was the path of life,
And a Paradise of Friendship
Was exchanged for scenes of strife.
Now', serenely bending o’er me,
Smile the bluest Southern skies.
And I wander where the shadow
Os the tall magnolia lies,
Where the jasmine’s trailing blossoms
Kiss the Ashley’s wooing waves.
And the wild rose wastes its beauty,
On the shores w'hich Ashley laves :
Where the red-bird flashes by me.
To the tangled thicket near.
And the cooing of the turtle
Plaintive falls upon my ear ;
Where the mock-bird—matchless warbler —
Charms me with his vesper lay,
While the purple-robed Twilight,
Priest-like, marries Night to Day.
Where the blossoms of the orange.
Lavish fragrance on the air,
And Edenic bowers invite me
All their flowery heaven to share.
Where the opulence of Nature
Knoweth neither stint nor bound,
Pouring out her richest treasures.
Over all the teeming ground.
Where the prestige of her beauty,
Woman throws around my way,
Casting sunshine without shadow—
On the path in which I stray ;
Where dark eyes of starry brightness,
(Kindled at the fount of light,
To illume Love’s azure heaven.)
Trance me with their spell of might.
Memory, sighing, points me backward
To New-England’s breezy hills,
And with thoughts of home and friendship,
All my yearning bosom fills ;
But my hoping spirit seeketh
Now the paths of high emprise,
Where the green palmetto groweth
Proudly ’neath its native skies.
Yet I love thee, month of flowers,
Fairest daughter of the Spring,
For the memories which thou bringesC
On thy odour-laden wing—
Memories of a tearful parting,
From the loved, now far away—
Os the sacred groves of Auburn
And the waves of Boston Bay.
f'ljr fnrrrit lltnr.
THE BIBLE.
What is the world !—A wildering maze,
Where sin hath track’d ten thousand ways,
Her victims to ensnare ;
All broad, and winding, and aslope.
All tempting with perfidious hope,
All ending in despair.
Millions of pilgrims throng those roads,
Bearing their baubles, or their loads,
Down to eternal night;—
One humble path, that never bends,
Narrrow, and rough, and steep, ascends,
From darkness into light.
Is there a guide to shew that path ?
The Bihle:—He alone who hath
The Bible, need not stray ;
Yet he who hath, and will not give
That heavenly Guide to all that live,
Himself shall lose the way.— Montgomery ..
Lesson for Sunday, May 5.
PRACTICAL RELIGION.
“ 15e thou in the fear of the Lord all the day long.”—
I’rov. xxiii. 17.
Religion holds its seat in the heart,
and sheds its heavenly influence in the
life. It, is a governing principle, and
where divinely instilled, will obtain the
ascendency over the sinful and corrupt
passions of the mind. This passage
gives ns a fine view of religion in its
practical tendency, bearing on the
scenes and circumstances of every day.
Observe concerning this duty
The manner in which it is to be
performed. It includes
The habitual recognition of the Di
vine presence. There may be an oc
casional acknowledgement of it, where
these feelings are by no means habit
ual. Many express a temporary awe
of God in a thunder storm, who forget
him when all nature is tranquil and
serene. As the lightning quickly
flashes along the skies, as the rolling
thunder soon dies on the ear, and the
clouds are rapidly dispersed, so tran
sient is the effect produced on their
minds.
A cheerful submission to the Divine
will. God is to be recognized in the
duties, trials, and disappointments, as
well as the comforts and mercies of the
day.
A continued devotedness to the Di
vine glory. The Christian’s race is to
be, not a sudden start, and then a halt,
but a steady, persevering course.
The motives by which it may be
urged. You should cultivate this ha
bitual principle of fear, to testify your
gratitude, to show’ your obedience, to
evince your sincerity, and to secure
your welfare. Such a course is pleas
ing to God, honourable to your profes
sion, unanswerable to your opponents,
and encouraging to your companions.
The Saviour bids us watch and pray.
Maintain a warrior’s strife ;
Help, Lord, to hear thy voice to-jhty ;
Obedience is our life.
THE SOLDIER’S SHIELD.
Samuel Proctor was trained up in the
use of religious ordinances, and in ear
ly life felt some religious impressions.
He afterwards enlisted as a soldier in
the first regiment of foot guards, and
was made a grenadier. Notwithstand
ing this, the impressions made upon
his mind continued; and the fear of
the Lord, as a guardian angel, attend
ed him through the changing scenes of
life. There were a few in the regi
ment who met for pious and devotion
al exercise; he east in his lot among
them, and always carried a small pock
et Bible in one pocket, and his hymn
book in the other. He took part in
the struggle on the plains of \\ aterloo
in 1815. In the evening of June 16th,
in the tremendous conflict on that day,
his regiment was ordered to dislodge
the French from a wood, of which they
had taken possession, and from which
they annoyed the allied army. AN hile
thus engaged, he was thrown a distance
of four or five yards by a force on his
hip, for which he could not account
at the time; but when he came to ex
amine his Bible, he saw, with over
whelming gratitude to the Preserver of
his life, what it was that had thus driv
en him. A musket ball had struck his
hip where his Bible rested in his pock
et, and penetrated near half through
that sacred book. All who saw the
ball, said that it would undoubtedly
have killed him. had it not been for the
Bible, which served as a shield. The
Bible was kept as a sacred treasure,
and laid up in his house, like the sword
of Goliah in the tabernacle. “That
Bible,” said Proctor, “has twice saved
me instrumentally —first, from death
in battle, and second from death eter
nal.”—Arvilie’s Anecdotes.
Death-Bed Estimate. —A celebra
ted Irish preacher, distinguished for the
eloquence of his pulpit preparations,
is said to have exclaimed on his death
bed, “ Speak not to me of my ser
mons ; alas! I was fiddling whilst
j Rome was burning.”
(bracrnl ißrlrrtir.
LABOUR
Labour —honest labour —is mighty
and beautiful. Activity is the ruling ele
ment of life, and its highest relish, lux
uries and conquests, arc the result of
! labour. We can imagine nothing with
i out it—not even the existence of crea
tive power. The noblest man of earth
is he who puts his hand cheerily and
proudly to honest toil. AN ho dares to
, contemn the swarthy brow of labour !
What is its analysis? The grandest
conceivable to human thought. Labour
is a business and ordinance of God. It
rolled the spheres from chaos, and
gave man an earth for his habitation.
God does not scorn toil. He could
stoop to build a universe, clothe it with
beauty, and sustain it in life and mo
tion. Suspend labour, or the creative
power of God, and have chaos for a
I universe. Suspend it, and where is the
! glory and pomp of earth ; the fruit fields,
| and palaces, and fashiouings of matter
for which men strive and war?
Let the labor scorner look around him,
look to himself, and learn what are the
trophies of toil. From the crown of
his head to the sole of his foot, unless
he be a Carib nude as the beast, he is
the debtor and slave of toil. The la
bour which he scorns lias tricked him
into the stature and appearance of a
man. Who reared his dwelling and
his altar? Who fashions and furnish
es his table ? Where gets he his gar
meeting and equipage ? Let labour an
swer. Labour,which hews down forests,
plants fields, rears hamlets and cities,
tunnels mountains, bridges rivers and
spans oceans. Labour, which makes
music in the mine, the furrow, and at
the forge. O, scorn labour do you, man
with the softhand, whoneveryet earned
a morsel of bread. Labour pities you,
proud fool, and laughs at your scorn !
You shall pass to dust forgotten, but
labour will live on forever, glorious in
its conquests and monuments.
[N. V. Sun.
THE WHITE MAIDEN.
The legend of the “ White Maiden”
is connected with Thurnberg. A young
nobleman of St. Goar, while hunting
one day, pursued a stag to the ruin,
where it disappeared. lie sought it in
• vain, and as it was mid-day—an August
mid-day at that, he sought shelter in
! the shade of a ruined staircase,saying, as
he stretched himself out on the ground,
“ I wish that some kind fairy would
bring me a beaker of the Rhenish wine
that the old women say has been bu- j
ried for ages in the cellars of this old
castle.” Scarce had he spoken the
words, when a beautiful maiden stepped
from a crevice, with a large beaker
flowing to the brim ; she was arrayed
| in white, “ fair was she as a lily in
’ June,” and her loving eyes made the
blood course fast through the hunter’s
heart. “Drink and be satisfied,” said
she,and soon his passions were inflamed
by love and wine—but just at that mo
ment the maiden disappeared. In vain
did he search for her—he only disturb
ed the owls and the bats, and from that
day he was a changed man. Wherev- j
er he was, but the one thought of her
haunted his mind, and his only pleasure
consisted in ransacking the ruins. The
sun scorched him—the rain drenched j
him —rfimporte ! At length a. deadly
fever seized him, and in Lis delirium
he sought the spot where he had seen
the object of his adoration, that lie
might there give up the ghost. But
life would not forsake him, and while
in great torment, the white maiden re
appeared. She came and bent over
him—with a convulsive effort lie raised
his head—she kissed his lips—and with
a smile of happiness he fell back and
died. No one has seen her since.
St)UTHERN WOMEN.
On Southern plantations the houses
arc generally of wood, large and com
modious, but built with little regard to
elegance, and furnished with a simplic
ity which would shock the eye of a
third-rate votary of fashion in a North
ern city. In these simple homes how
ever, you may enter without fear;
“ stranger” is there a sacred name ; and
you will find yourself entertained with
an open-hearted hospitality which may
well reconcile you to the absence of
some accustomed luxuries. In the
dwellers in these homes, you will find
generally the easy, courteous bearing
which distinguishes the best society ev
erywhere. In them, too, yon will often
find the highest intelligence in the land;
and it -will be readily perceived, that
the result of this attainment of high cul
tivation in the artificial life oftlie coun
try, must be the formation of a charac
ter uniting, in a rare degree, refinement
and simplicity. To this union, we think.
Southern women are indebted for that
charm so generally attributed to their
manner a charm which is never felt
so full; as in their own homes, where all
around them wears the impress of their
own spirits. In the life thev lead, there
is little. ot moment but personal quali
ties. Ihe tact that the changes of pro
perty are less frequent and violent in
an agricultural than in a commercial
country —that families remain longer
in their relative positions in the first
than in the last has given, it is true
a higher value to blood.-—to family
distinction,—at the South than at the
North, yet scarcely sufficient to affect
the reception of an individual in socie
ty. The true gold of character will
there pass current, even though it ma\
lack “ the guinea stamp.”
| Miss Mclntosh.
3 Calmmt (frrrfrit fn fm.
marriages.
I dare say you’ve heard of comieal doings,
Comical courtships and comical wooings,
Comical, queer and cumbrous carriages
Set them aside ! hear comical marriages!
Andrew Black to Mary Brown,
Barbara King to Joseph Crown,
William Joseph to Eliza Jack,
Anthony White to Eleanor Black,
Henry Walker to Janet Trotter,
Christopher Clay to Harriet Potter,
May Wheeler to Richard Turner,
Margaret Smiles to Henry Mourner,
Josiah Day to Emily Night,
Thomas I. Ruff to Barbara Bright,
Mary Ann Wood to Henry Steel,
Anthony Trueman to Emma Real.
Barnaby Pence to Amelia Crown,
Matthew Lighton to Susan Clown,
Lucretia Long to William Short,
Christopher Hale to Sarah Port,
John Fairweather to Miranda Rayne,
Alice Makepeace to Solomon Paine.
What singular things to occur at one church.
Where the priest’s name’s Arch, and the sex
ton’s Porch.
BLF FFIN (jT AH ’EI )LAR.
If there is really a difficult point to
be managed, and acuteness is required
to effect it, commend me to a woman’s
wit for the purpose.
Now there was a certain tin-ware ped
lar travelling the city to dispose of no
tions to such as were willing to bargain,
lie was a persevering trader, and never
suffered himself to be bluffed off with a
short answer. At one house, in parti
cular, he received continual rebuffs and
assurances that nothing was wanted —
they never bought anything in that way.
Nevertheless, lie made bis calls steadily,
with each regular round, until lie be
came a regular pest, and in reply to the
information that it was useless to call
he made known bis purpose to do so
just as often as he pleased.
One bitter cold day the door bell
rang, and the good lady hastened to get
her hands from the dough in which they
were busy, to answer the call. When
she reached the door, there stood the
everlasting pedlar.
“Any tin ware to-day, ma’am ?”
“Have you any tin kitchens
“Yes, ma’am,” and away lie goes to
bring the samples, chuckling at the idea
that his zeal was to be successful at lass.
“ There’s nothing,” muttered he, “ like
hanging on, anyhow!”
The tin kitchens were brought, and
tin pans were next inquired for. The
pans were brought, and other articles
enumerated, to seven different kinds,
until a goodly portion of the pedlar’s
load had been transferred to the house.
“Is there anything more you want,
ma’am ?”
“Oh no—l don’t want any of these :
I only asked you if you had them.”
The pedlar was fairly “ sold,” and for
a moment felt like getting angry —but
the idea rather tickled him, and lie com
menced returning his wares to the cart,
without uttering a word. He has never
called at that house since.
EXPOUNDTNcTtHE LAW.
A Scotchman called at the house of
Lawyer Fletcher of Vermont, to consult
that legal gentleman professionally. “Is
the squeer at home ?” he inquired of the
lawyer’s lady, who opened the door at
his summons. He was answered nega
tively.
Disappointment was now added to
! Scotia’s son, but after a moment’s con
| sideration, anew thought relieved him.
“ Mabby yourself can gie me the neces
: sary information asweelas the squeer —
| seein’ as ye’re his wifi?.”
The kind lady readily complied to do
! so, if on learning the nature of his diffi
culty, she found it in her power, and the
other proceeded to state the case as fol
lows :
“ S’pose you was an old white mear,
; an’ l should borry ye to gang to mill,
with a grist on yer back, an’ we should
t ’ V
get no farder than Stair hill, when all
at woonee, ye should back up, and rear
up, and pitch up, and kneel down back
wards, and break yer darned auld neck,
who’d pay for ye not 1, dearn me if I
would!”
The lady smilingly told him, as she
closed the door, that as lie had himselt
passed sentence on the case,advice would
be entirely superfluous.
A MISTAKE.
A Providence paper, referring to the
reconciliation of Foote and Borland, tells
the story of an unoffending traveller in
Spain who was stabbed to the heart, by
a man he had never seen. As he fell,
the murderer turned the face of his vic
tim to tin* moonlight, and suddenly
clasping his dying hand, exclaiming with
sorrowful emotion, “My dear sir, 1 beg
your pardon. This is all a mistake, I
took you for quite another person; 1
hope you will excuse me.”
CURIOSITIES WANTEI >.
The barrel from “tin* organ of sight.
The fleece from a “ battering ram.”
The cushion from the “ seat of learning.”
The “ sap” from a “ saddle-tree.”
The tusks from a “hogs-head” of rum.
The brains from the “head of a pin.
A Disconsolate Husband. —The
Marshal of Cincinnati, a few days since,
received the following telegraphic des
patch from Dayton. We hope for the
sake of the “ paby” the frow may be
caught:
Mister Marshal, mine frow runned
awaymit one d—d Dutchmandis morn
in ; she has hut von eye, vich is black
—t’other eye is black, too, but she lost
him. She ish ash big ash von hogshead.
I vonts you to ketch her mit de dele
graph, and send her home to her paby,
for if site ton’t cooms. I vips her like de
cjfjHl. # Alex. Havens. \
lBay?on, Jan. 10, 1850. j
• k