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Dcuotcci to Citcmtuvc, Science, nub Art, llje Sons of temper once, (Dili Jcllouisljip, ittaoonrn, anir (general intelligence.
VOLUME I.
$ % % lifi n ae y,
• TH E DREAMER.
flir following beautiful lines are from a volume of * Poems
Seamstress,” and are said to be truly the production of
/poor English girl.
tfot in the laughing bowers,
Where, by green twining elms, a pleasant shade,
\ summer’ 3 noon is made;
\ml where swift-footed hours
Steal the rich breath of the enamored flowers ;
Dream I. Nor where the golden glories be,
At Sunset laving o’er the flowing sea,
And to pure eyes the faculty is given,
To trace smooth ascent from tho earth to Ileaven.
■tfoton the couch of ease.
With all the appliances of joys at hand ;
Soft light, sweet fragrance, beauty at command;
Viands that might a god like palate please,
\ri.J music’s soul creative ecstncies ;
Dream 1. Nor gloating o’er a wide estate,
Till the full, self-complacent heart, elate,
Well satisfied with bliss or mortal birth,
Sighs for an immortality on earth. m
But where the incessant din
Os iron hands, nnd roar of brazen throats ;
Join their umningling notes;
While the long summer day is pouring in,
Till day is gone and darkness doth begin ;
Dream I—as in the corner where I lie.
On wintry nights, just covered from the sky,
Such is my fate, and barren though it seem ;
Vet, thou blind, soulless scorner, yet I dream !
And, yet I dream —
Dream wliat? Were men more just. I might have been
How strong, how fair, how kindly nnd serene,
Blowing of heart, and glorious of mein.
The conscious crown to nature’s blissful scene,
In just and equal brotherhood to gleam,
With all mankind, exhaust!ess pleasure keen;
Such is iay dream.
And, yet I dream—
I, the despised of foitune, lift mine eye,
Bright with tho lustre of integrity,
In unappealing wretch© lness on high,
And the last rage of destiny defy ;
Wosutoed alone to live—alone to die,
Isut swell the tide of human misery.
And yet l dream—
Dreams of a sleep where dreams no more shall come,
My last, my first, irty only welcome home !
Beit, unbelield, since life’s beginning stage,
Side remnant of my glorious heritage.
Fnalienable, I shall find thee yet,
And, in thy soft embrace, the past forget!
Thus do l dream.
OE X m IXAI BAII.
For A Friend of the Fatuity. j
SELF DEVOTION.
Br MISS SUIIS A. STUART.
CHAP. I.
** Home is the resort
Os love, of joy, of peace and plenty, where,
Supporting and supported, polish’d friends,
And dear relations, mingle into bliss.”
What could be lovelier then: the “roup collected
in the elegant drawing room of Mr. Forester, on
a cold frosty night in January. The glowing
coals, with which the burnished grate was well
heaped, threw their gleams alike on the stately
matron, the elegant man, the gem of a sweet girl,
just hovering on the confines of childhood, and on
angel children in all their romping delight
fulness. The shaded lamp, too, had just been
brought in, and placed on the sofa-table, where
sits Mr. Forester, a gentleman in the prime of
life, of no regularity as to features, but with a
countenance of so much silent eloquence and
intellectuality, as would redeem a much uglier
face than the one he hears.
Reclining on the lounge, near which is drawn
the table, on which rests his arm —is his wife, who
ln her mature beauty reminds one of a full blown,
h llt perfect rose, ere yet the sun has kissed it too
“•'irmly. If she be the rose, then indeed is Leila ,
tyresterthe sweetest hud that ever eye rested on,
■n her vpung loveliness. Do not dread, reader, j
a l°ng and detailed description of her style of
neauty, I will only tell you one thing par parenthc
that her eves would strike you at the first.
ancc,by their singular and exquisite expression,
full, of a deep grey, with dilating pupils ;
y'y l ie ingest and darkest fringe, to their snowy
j’ cvcr beheld. There was a strain of melody
an ‘ Cr tones, with which she sought to
if) 1 T * oun S sisters, clustering around her,
11 C she shone pre-eminent in beauty as
well assize. 1
lan^ 10 J lnri of the group was sealed on her
p, .UK of the other two, one was kneeling at
icet, the other reclining on the large central
’ oman which she occupied. Her brother, nearly
tin^ f * NVn a,^ e ’ a anc isome, manly boy, was sit
.• ®. ln an arm chair opposite, now and then put
‘ng >n a word or two to elucidate the tale Leila
to her young sister Fanny.
*aid vr T?° Vel y our Leila has become, Margaret,”
J Forester. “ Did you ever see any one so
aS S^e * 3 even i Q h er play. Well indeed
i Q f’ sle Reserve the name I jestingly gave her in
(Je^ c 4 our S en^e ladye.’ Is she not lovely
“ Very lovely, William, I always thought Leila
so, though you thought her eyes were too large.
What say you to them now ? Have you heard
. her play lately on the piano?”
“ INo dear ; but I feel as if I could enjoy some
music before tea, Leila, rny daughter, when you
have finished that wonderful story, bring Fanny to
me, and play something.”
“ With pleasure, papa ; I have almost finished.”
When the story was ended, Fanny was re
signed to her father’s arms, and Leila, seating
herself at the piano, asked what she should play.
“ Auld Robin Gray ” first, and then anything
3*0 u wish.”
\ Soon the room was filled with the liquid, plain
tive tones of that young, but well-trained voice,
in her father’s favorite ballad. Ere it was well
concluded, the tea waiter made its appCafdnce,
and Leila seated herself with her sisters at the
centre table.
“ How would my daughter like being the wife
of an ‘ Auld Robin Grey?’” said Mr. Forester,
as he sipped his tea, and glanced smilingly at
Leila.
“ Not at all, dear papa, I had rather stay alwa3 r $
with you and mamma and never marry at all.”
“ Ah, very well, very well Miss Leila. I shall
remember that, when some of these days a gay
gentleman will be begging me for}*ou.”
“ My dear William do not talk to Leila, on such,
a subject at present, and do look ! ” continued
she, directing his attention to Fanny, who had
slid from her seat and was now clinging to
Leila, with tears in her large blue eyes , as she
poutingly answered her brother who was teasing
her about her eldest sister’s going away—“she
shan’t go, my Leila.” “ Look,” said Mrs. Fores
ler, “ how those children cling in love to her.—
Really I think they all love her better than either
of us. Fanil} 7 , dearest, come to mamma, no one
will ever take sister Leila from you. Come darl
ing.” “Go to mamma Fanny, papa and Gus
were teasing.” “ Yes do go little chatter-box,”
said Gus, “sister is not to marry any one, out
will keep home for you and I, shan’t she?”—
“ And for me ! ” “ And me too ! ” said Annie and
Mary as in their energy they abandoned their sup
per and seats to claim their sister.
“ Be quiet and don’t annoy mamma with noise,”
said her low voice, “it is our bed time too,” alan
, ‘ Q
cing at the French clock, “come let us kiss them
for the night,” and she advanced leading Fanny.
“ Good night, my daughter,” said her fond fath
er as he kissed her soft lips, “ Good night m3* dar
lings, and sweet dreams to }*ou.”
“Be careful Leila that the children say their
prayers,” said the mother, as she returned the
fond good night, “ you know that I trust them en
tirel}* to you.”
“ An I no one can better fulfil their trust, dear
est,” replied her husband, when they had gone.
“ Truly, my wife we have a prize in our daughter.
Day by day have I watched her, and no angry,
harsh, or ungentle word does she ever use to those
children. She seems to be utterly forgetful of
self, in her commune with them. What a glori
ous woman she will he, so calm, so unmilled,
with that angel brow and pure eyes, lit up with
the hol} r principle of self-devotion.”
“ Yes, dear William, she is everything that our
partial hearts love. The very servants almost
worship her, and I realty believe she is an exemp
tion from the old axiom, ‘that never was man or
woman, hero or heroine to their valets’ for she is
to them as exalted as ideal, as she appears to stran
gers. I think her, without a mother’s partiality,
a paragon. Gus,” to her son, “ hadyou not bet
ter go to bed, for I believe you are asleep.”
“ Almost mamma, my gunning to day has tired
me, and so I will bid you good night, and to bed.”
“ Good night, my boy ! ” said his father, “ you
had hotter sleep whilst you can, for when } T our
midshipman’s warrant comes, }*ou will need all
these unbroken nights now to make up your
“ watches ” then. And now wife, what slmll it
be this evening ? chess, shall we have a game, or
shall I read you that exquisite poem, ‘ The Cul
prit Fay;'* I wait your decision, fair lad} 7 .”
“ The book, by all means William, for I know
it will please ye?* best,” and she seated herself at
the table, with some light work to employ her fin
gers, whilst her lover-like husband adjusting the
shade of the lamp, commenced that beautiful gem
of our American poet Drake.
CHAr. 11.
“ Ah! it is sad when one thus linked departs!
When Death, that mighty sev’rer of true hearts
Sweeps through the halls, so lately loud in mirth,
And leaves pale Sorrow weeping by the hearth.”
Tread softly, for} 7 ou now enter the chamber of
one sick unto death. Those noiseless steps that
move around her dying bed, for it is Mrs. 1 orester
who lies there, are those of her daughter Leila,
who, with all the devotion of her loving heait, has
never left her, but with the instinct and watchful-
SAVAMAII, GA., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1849.
ness of true, unwearied afiection, hovered ever
around her couch of pain like a ministering an
gel. Mrs. Forester opens her fast dimming eyes,
as Leila bends over her to see if she sleeps.
“ My mother,” said her sweet young voice.
“ Leila, dearest lam in no pain now. Is no
one in here, for I wish to speak to you my daugh
ter.”
“ No one, dear mamma, I have persuaded pa
pa to rest in the library, and sent away the nurse,”
and she smoothed some straggling hair off from
OO O
her mother’s brow as she pressed her lips to it.”
“ Give me something to drink, Leila, and listen
to’ me.”
Ha ving obeyed her mother, she again returned
to the bed.
“ Leila yOU are young, and I am about to load
}*our young heart with a weight of responsibility,
hut darling, I know you, and feel that } T our firm
ness and devotion as regards those whom you love
exceed by far, your years. In your bands, and
to your love and care, do I leave your sisters.—
Your father too, m3 7 child ! He will never marry,
1 know him. Be unto him, a companion, a com
forter. Enter as I have ever done into all his
schemes. If he has an} 7 favorite study or plan,
let it also he yours. I know this, my last request,
is hard my child, but I know your affection for
your sisters. lam dying my* child, and I cannot
speak much more. Promise me, and then call
your father and the children, I want them with
1 me.”
“ My darting mother I will promise you all arid
everything you desire, but do not say 7 you are dy
ing my* own dear mother ! ” But she thought fbt
that dear being even amid her grief, and with a
courage and forethought unlooked for in one of
such tender years, the tears were driven back,
that unnecessary 7 pain might be spared lief dying
parent.
Mr. Forester and the children were summoned
to that loved one’s death bed, and there received
her last admonitions. Oh ! what eloquence in a
death bed ! How much more powerful, than the
mostsublime sermons delivered from the mouths
ot the greatand the good, is the ghastly counte
nance, the quivering, shortening, gasping breath,
the dimming and glazing eye, the spasmodic
grasps of the hand, that has so ofien lingered in
ours, in affections fond clasp. All, all speaking
to us—telling us of an immortality—the vanity
of all earthly things, how impossible even to our
love “ which is as strong as death,” to retain our
dear ones with us, and warning us by that very
mortality “ not to place our affections upon things
of earth.”
She was buried, and change fell upon them, for
her place could not be filled in the hearts of her
husband and Leila. The children so fondly lov
ing their sister, and having their afiection so am
ply repaid could not miss her so much. Gus, too,
was soon ordered to his ship, and with new scenes
,and new faces, his recollections and sorrowful
regrets began to wear away, and he with buoyant
spirits to look forward to a re-union with those dear
ly loved ones still left unto him. Mr. Forester, be
reft of one whom he had ever looked up to as his
equal and companion, now sought other consola
tion, that of ambition. Eminent he had ever been
as a lawyer, and attaching himself to politics he
soon began to be looked upon by his party as a
proper person to represent them in Congress.—
He, eager for every new excitement and scene,
accepted the nomination, and by his unequalled
canvassing abilities, found himself at the close of
the electioneering campaign chosen over his op
ponent hv an overwhelming majority 7 . Yet the
first thought that leaped into his mind, shadowing
with the dark cloud of regret the successful pres
ent was, “ If Margaret, had but been spared, to
have witnessed my 7 triumph, to have shared my
honors.”
Mrs. Alton, an old friend of Mrs. Forester, who
had been stay r ing with the family, since his wife’s
death, had been prevailed upon by Mr. Forester
to continue in charge of the children ; as she had
no relations and was sincerely attached to the
whole family, she remained.
The winter w 7 as approaching, Mr. Forester in
tended carrying Leila w ith him, yet the young
girl had no thought for her own pleasure and tri
umphs in the metropolis, a higher and nobler mo
tive actuated her when she expressed her glad ac
quiescence in her father’s wish for her to accom
pany him. “ I shall be near him, and comfort
him if any unforsccn occurrence should hnppen,”
washer loving reflection. Well indeed did Mrs.
Forester know her child when she expressed to
her her dyfing wishes. Leila knew that her sis
ters w*ere well cared for under the charge of Mrs.
Alton, and that it w 7 as her duty to be the compan
ion of her father if he so wished it.
Behold them then at Washington city, located
in an excellent boarding bouse, with an agreeable
and refined “ mess.” Mr. Forester’s maiden speech
in the Hall of Representatives was a decided
“ hit, and henceforward it became the fashion
to cry up the eloquent member and his lovely
daughter.
And that beautiful girl passed scatheless through
the round of gay parties, theatrical entertainments,
which she attended, for every where did she carrv
with her, as a talisman, her devoted and watchful
love for her parent, so absorbing that no other
passion, at that time, could have entrance into her
pure young heart; yet do not for a moment think
that Leila’s was a disposition that could not love.
Ao one could be more susceptible or more ardent
in her affections, but she was now fulfilling a dy
ing injunction, and in her zeal to discharge her
promise, she devoted time, thought, everything
to her father. And well did he repay her love.—
His rather stern expression would instantly relax
did she but enter the room, and the smile of al
most unmanly tenderness would light up his coun
tenance. Leila too, with every new day acquired
new grace. Tall for her years, not seventeen,
with her magnificent cActvZwcofclark brown, bound
in a natural coronet round her small, classically
shaped head, and those strange lustrous eyes lit
up with her pure thoughts, she moved arnongthem
all like a creature of another sphere. Many won
dered that one so young should be so self-pos
sessed, so calmly dignified as the exquisitely beau
tiful Miss Forester. Ever conducting herself with
such courteous, yet regal grace—for if ever there
was a queen of nature’s moulding, that one was
Leila Forester. Her self-possession arose from
the very unconsciousness of her own existence,
her own beauty, and the absorption in her father.
She imagined in the new scenes to which he was
exposed, though fascinating from their novelty,
must have danger, lurking as the serpent, beneath
the flowers ; and therefore she gave herself np
with an entireness, a forgetfulness of self in her
wish to discharge her trust faithfully. And when
at the end of the session, Mr* Forrester, with
fresh laurels, returned to his home, bringinghisfair
young daughter. Not a few admirers did she
leave, for more than one had laid their fortunes at
her feet.
That dear Leila, x r ou should have seen her,
when she met her 3 r oung sisters. Hers was in
deed a heart capable ol loving, of clinging in all
fondness. Her large, wild eyes were glistening
in tears as she witnessed their demonstrations of
affection, as humble as if nil this wealth of love
was not her due ; entering with the enjouemmt of
childhood into all their simple narratives, from
their new cuttings of roses, to their doll’s ailments,
everywhere finding remedies for disasters, praises
for good conduct. Is it any wonder that Mr. Fo*
ester should feel oroud* and glory in this daughter
To be Continued .
A Cut ious Idea. —Gutta Perch*! tubes are now
laid in some English churches, to the pews of
deaf pesons, by which they are enabled to hear
ihe preacher. In consequence, too, of the pecu
liar power possessed by this tubing for the trans
mission of sound, a gentleman in New York, it is
said, has applied it for the conveyances of messa
ges from the parlor to the kitchen. Even a whis
per at the mouth-piece is distinctly heard when
the ear is applied at the other end. The mistress
(irst calls attention by gently blowing into the
tube, which sounds ! whistle in the kitchen. A
great article is Gutta Percha and nearly as po
tent in virtue as the “ if” of Touchstone.
Col. Fremont digging Gold. —Mr. James King,
just returned from California to Washington, re
ports that Col. Fremont was working a large
party at some new placers, where they were doing
well. The business of the Colonel is to desig
nate the place to be worked, and to provide for
the hands, and to exercise a general superinten
dance. He receives a certain portion of the find
ings. The old placers, it is said, do not yield
anything like as much as formerly ; the new com
ers prefer going to them to hunting out new lo
cations where they might do better. Mr. K. does
not think the gold inexhaustible.
It is now ascertained that Lord Ashley’s sim
ple and confiding nature has been imposed upon.
The Irish peat-oil tallow-car. die scheme is a hoax,
or a fiction, as was suspected it w ould prove to be.
Mr. Owen has contradicted the statement that he
has invested any capital in the bog land of Ire
land for the purpose of converting vegetable earth
into oil, tallow or gas. He admits that he has
been influenced by Mr. Recce to make some ex
periments which have failed.
It is within the recollection of many persons
living, in England, that the father of the /ate Mr.
Denizon, of one of the London banking firms,
who recently died worth more than twelve mil
lions of dollars, used to carry home his rump
steak in a cabbage leaf for his dinner.
From what number can you take the letters
and make it even ? 5-even.
NUMBER 34