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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