Page images
PDF
EPUB

soming, a thousand merry footsteps will trip by day to
the merry music of our mountain rills, and by night to
the soul-inspiring cadences of the Pavilion Assemblies.
A gala season waits us.

or merely optional for town clerks to publish the canvass of town meetings "once in each week for the term of four weeks successively in a newspaper printed in said county, if any such there be." Shade of Bacon, hover near us-as the beggar said to the ham in the cook shop window.

SELECT MISCELLANY.

JERUSALEM.

mere citizen may be proud of the might and prowess of his country; but a citizen-soldier-(one worthy of the compound name)-will love his native land, and protect her in the hour of peril, even though his life be sacrificed upon the altar of her honor. Is it not therefore politic WERY INTERESTING.-A gentlemen called at our of that measures be adopted to augment the numbers of those thus worthy not only of the name of citizens but fice a few days since and enquired whether we had adof soldiers? And if it can be established that the du- vertized a certain sale in Chancery. We answered in ties of the citizen are so far compatible with the duties of the affirmative and told him that the publication had the soldier, that a just appreciation of the latter must in- been regularly affirmed to, and the sale made. He knew that the sale had been made, but he had hoped that it volve a correct performance of the former, then it canWe have no mention of the Holy City until the days not be questioned that the duties of the government im- had not been regularly advertized, in order that its legalpose upon our legislatures the necessity of giving a mil-ity might be contested. The fact appeared that he had of Joshua, who conquered its king Adonisedeck, when it is supposed to have had great power, and influence.-itary education to every male child in our country. Of mortgaged a lot on this island, and that the mortgagee In the book of Joshua it is related "As for the Jebusthad foreclosed and bought up the property for the price the modus operandi we shall say but this-that polytechnic schools afford the means whereby this desirable of his mortgage, all without the knowledge of the mort-ites, the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the children of Judah tuition may be extended to every citizen of this repub-gager. The gentleman soon left us, but not without the could not drive them out, but the Jebusties dwell with the children of Judah at Jerusalem unto this day." Afadmonition that "every one who holds mortgaged prolic; and if military conventions should take this proposition into favor it might ultimately become one of the perty on this island should take the MIRROR-that is, if ter the death of Joshua, the City was seized upon and burnt by the children of Judah; but afterwards, rebuilt his land is worth more than the mortgage." proudest features of our domestic polity. with tenfold strength by the Jebusites, from whom it was taken by David, who built an additional City; under his reign and that of Solomon Jerusalem reached the zenith of her grandeur, and it is well known that during the reign of the latter, the most magnificent building of past ages was constructed. We will pass over the many revolutions which took place during the long interval which

sages of the Massachusetts legislature had enacted a law
compelling dram drinkers to drink fifteen gallons at a

Let none suppose that its fulfilment might be fraught RUM TRADE.-The Boston Times says that a vessel with anarchy-or that the military power thus vested in has lately arrived at that place from Rochelle with a load the people could ever endanger the purity or violate and of four hundred and fifty fifteen gallon kegs, put up exsubvert the authority of the civil government. Our pre-pressly for that market. It seems reasonable that if the sent imperfect militia system confers upon the people ample power for every bad purpose, but still it constitutes the impregnable panoply which smiles defiance to ambition. Its dormant might is known and feared by the aspirant, and its energies are consequently never required to curb his aspirations. The sleeping lion is left to his repose, lest he be roused too quickly from his leth

argy.

time they might have made large drinkers of their small
drinkers at the same time they made large dealers of

their small dealers.

side "premium volume," and the premium will be awar-
ded through the columns of the Mirror.

PREMIUM VOLUMES OF THE MIRROR.-The subscriber who shall send in for binding the cleanest and the most It would be ridiculous to single out for example a pug- perfect file (within the first fortnight succeeding the exnacious militia captain whose acquirements merely en- piration) of the present vulume, shall be entitled to the dow him with the knowledge of shouldering and pre-binding gratis. Such volume shall be labelled on the senting arms, and who quarrels with his General every field-day, as to the manner of marching eschelons or deploying column. Such deportment is below the dignity of an officer, and such a man is unworthy the name of soldier. A soldier learns to know his place-he is never found among the dissolute and disorderly—he is never a disorganizer or a boisterous, wordy politician-in a word a true soldier is a true gentleman; and if any legislative action can so revolutionize society as to form a nation of true gentlemen, we pray its happy consummation.

Bergen Point.

The incorporate company which has purchased the promontory opposite this village, is prosecuting its enterprises with great alacrity. A fine pier, three hundred feet long, is nearly completed, and a wall and dike running north and south at right angles with another running east and west are under contract. These walls are intended to keep the tide waters from washing over the adjacent meadows, which will thus be rendered available and productive. This work alone will probably draw from Staten Island nearly four thousand tons of her granite, and the large factories which will shortly be put under contract at that point must necessarily demand an additional supply. The charter under which this company is acting, clothes it with unusual privileges, among which are those of banking, legislation, railroading, dikeing, ditching, docking and draining.

Our good friends of the Norfolk Democrat will please observe that the stanzas entitled "the two wishes" appeared in the Mirror under the head of "Select Poetry." We are therefore entitled to no credit on that score.

STATEN ISLAND BANK.-The statement of the affairs of this institution as published in our last, has given general satisfaction to the stockholders and must materially add to the confidence already reposed in the association. We had intended to re-insert the statement, but owing to an accident the type was knocked into pi, and there fore we can only refer to it on our 60th page.

N. YORK AND STATEN ISLAND STEAMBOAT Co.-On Thursday a petition for the charter of this comprny was presented to the Assembly, and referred. The objects of this company, if carried out, will doubtless be of more benefit to the inhabitants generally than to those who are instrumental in its organization. The company is to be organized for the purpose of running a regular ferry between Port Richmond, New Brighton and New York, by which dairymen and others will be induced to settle their establishments upon this island.

PUBLIC STORE DOCK.-Among the other contingent expenses provided for 1839, by the late act of Congress, we notice an appropriatiod of "$2,314 for repairing the NEW BRIGHTON PAVILION.-This splendid estab-public store dock at Staten Island.” lishment will open about the middle of next month un- BAY AND HARBOR OF NEW YORK.-An appropriation der the able direction of Mr. PIERIS, formerly of the of five thousand dollars has been made by the late act of Rockaway Pavilion. With such a caterer the attrac-Congress for the engraving of a new chart of this harbor. tions of the Pavilion must command an unusually gay season for our little queen of a village. We expect to see all our old friends back again about budding time; and when the trees put on their white coats of rosy blos

interceded between this period and the birth of our Saviour, which is by far the most interesting epoch of her eventful history. Thirty-six years before this time Jerusalem was conquered by the Romans, under Socius and Herod, and in about a century more was totally destroyed by Titus. A new City was constructed on Mount Calvary, which rapidly increased though it suffered greatly from earthquakes, and the incursions of foreign powers. In the year 614 it was conquered by the Persians who put an immense number of the inhabitants to the sword, but it was soon recovered by Heraclitus, the Roman Emperor, who amply revenged the former cruel massacre. In 637, it was seized upon by the Saracens, who resigned it to the Turks in 1079. Twenty years after this period the European Crusaders under Godfrey of Boulogne, wrested it from the followers of Mahomet, but were deprived of their possessions in 1187, by Saladin, the chivalric sultan of Egypt, Numerous revolutions succeeded, and it is now under the dominion of the Pacha of Egypt.

We rose with the sun, and by general consent, went to visit the church of the Holy Sepulchre-this building, according to tradition, marks the scene of our Saviour's crucifixion, death, and burial, and other events which render it a holy and consecrated spot; upon entering, we paused for a moment, with mingled emotions of surprise and awe-the splendid simplicity of its ornaments, together with the reflection, of what had transpired even upon the spot where we now stood, impressed us with other feelings than those which are usually felt by thoughtless sailors upon such occasions. On our left, sitting upon a low platform, were four Copts, smoking their pipes, and, doubtless, discussing the news of the day; the unstifled laughter which occasionally burst forth from this hard featured party plainly evinced their want of respect for the sacred pile under the roof of which they aisle which we first entered, we were shown a slab of were puffing away dull care. Near the centre of the highly polished marble, upon which, according to tradition, our Saviour was anointed; around this was a number of giant candles, and above was suspended a number of lamps, which are kept constantly burning. The walls beyond are adorned by paintings, chiefly by Greek masters, on subjects connected with the trials and crucifixion of Christ-the finest of these paintings is the

A NEW POINT FOR JUSTICE TANEY.-We should
like to know whether title IX chapter three and section
forty-two of the Revised Statutes makes it compulsory' "Anointing."

We crossed another aisle and came into the body of the church, which is covered by an immense dome, affording light to the interior-Here is the Holy Sepulchre;" we entered, and I can truly say I never spent a half hour more satisfactorily. The Sepulchre is cased with rich marbles and divided into two apartments; the first contains the stone on which the angel Gabriel is said to have sat, and communicates with the inner apartment by a narrow entrance which is richly cased with precious marbles; in this apartment is the sarcophagus which contained the body of our Saviour-it is in appearance exactly similar to the square tombs so often placed over the graves of departed friends in our own country, and is finished in a style of elegant simplicity; the cover is almost worn away by the kisses of the numerous devotees who have come from afar to visit this hallowed spot, and without doubt, ere many years, they will be under the necessity of discovering another true lid for this venerable sarcophagus.

The spot where Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene is marked by three small circles of black marble; several scriptural paintings adorn the wall, and an immense number of lamps throw rather an unnatural glare through this small apartment. We left the sepulchre, and took rather a hasty glance at the various objects of interest in the body of the church which I will mention without comment. The narrow passage leading to the prison in which our Saviour was previous to crucifixion, a tomb supposed to be that of the soldier who pierced his side with a spear, the spot where they cast lots for his clothes, a cistern into which the crosses were thrown after the crucifixion, and discovered by the Empress Helena, the head of a marble column to which Christ was tied, and afterwards scourged and insulted, many rude paintings, the tombs of several crusade leaders, and various other objects which require more than tradition, saying nothing of enthusiasm to believe in.

By a flight of stairs, we ascended to Mount Calvary, the scene of Christ's crucifiction, which is marked in in a chaste and beautiful manner, several magnificent altars adorn this part of the holy Church, and where the cross stood is a circular Masonic of black marble.We next went to see the "Rent in the Rock," and afterward the tombs of Nichodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, both of which are cut out of the solid rock. After leaving the church, we paid a hasty visit to the Governor, who received us with much courtesy, and mounting our donkies, started for the "Mount of Olives;" we were soon outside the walls and by general consent dismounted and entered the grotto which contains the tombs of Joseph and Mary, the mother of Jesus; it is richly fitted up, and is adorned with magnificent altars, and numerous small scriptural pictures. Leaving the grotto we passed the spot where St. Stephen was stoned to death, and came to the garden of Gethsemenah-all that remains of this memorable spot, appears to have the blighting curse of heaven upon it; a few aged olive trees, surrounded by a low stone wall, remain to tell of the frailty of poor weak human nature. We rode slowly up the mountain, and in half an hour reached its

[blocks in formation]

to the next corner, to make his directions more definite. Such attentions in midst of an immense and bewildering city you cannot but appreciate and remember. You have a map, it is true, and you can, if you will, study it so as to get a tolerably correct notion of all the principal streets and squares of the town,-but I never could have patience to sit down and find the place wanted, just as I was going out to meet an engagement-and then, one half the courts and cross streets are not to be found upon the map at all. There is nothing which cools the wrath of coachmen, carmen, and omnibus drivers, so effectually, when they find themselves jammed together, pell-mell, in Cheap-side, or Black-friars, and begin to vociferate, and brandish their long whips—nothing brings down their high temper, like the appearance of a police man: "Do you stop there, and do you turn a little to the right, and you a little to the left, and you, and you, sir, go with me to the office yonder." Thus he clears away every obstruction almost in moment, and the waves roll on as before.

Bentham.

Dr. Humphrey's Tour.

and following a foot-path between the overhanging trees, we gradually, and with some diffirulty, descended so far as to have a fine view of the station we had just left. The scene here is magnificent beyond description. Far under the blackened canopy of everlasting rock, that shoots above to an alarming extent over the abyss, the eye glances round a vast and regular amphitheatre, which seems to be the wild assembling place of all the spirits of the storms-so rugged, so deep, so secluded, and yet so threatening does it appear! Down from the midst of the cliff that overhangs this wonderful excavation, and dividing in the midst of the gloom that seems to settle within it, comes the foaming torrent, splendidly relieved upon the black surface of the enduring walls, and throwing its wreaths of mist along the frowning ceiling. Following the guide that had brought us thus far down the chasm, we passed into the amphitheatre, and, moving under the terrific projection, stood in the centre of this sublime and stupendous work—the black iron-bound rocks behind us, and the snowy cataract springing between us and the boiling basin, which still lay under our feet. Here the scene was unparalleled.— Here seemed the theatre for a people to stand in and Jeremy Bentham, with a real love of science, bebehold the prodigies and fearful wonders of the Almigh-queathed his body to his friend Dr. Southwood Smith, a ty, and feel their own insignificance. Here admiration kindred spirit and a highly gifted and philosophical wriand astonishment came unbidden over the soul, and the ter; and the worthy doctor took the best possible way of most obdurate heart feels that there are some things to be honoring the glorious old philosopher; he had the head, grateful for. Indeed, the scene from this spot is so sub- with all the integuments, preserved after the manner of lime, and so well calculated to impress the feelings with the South Sea islanders, and he employed a skilful artsense of the power and grandeur of nature, that, apart ist to model the face and head, in a composition, so as to from all other considerations, it is worthy of long jour-obtain an exact likeness, and to make it resemble the livneying and extreme toil to behold it. Having taken re-ing man. This the artist has succeeded in: the features freshments, very adroitly managed to be conveyed to us are placid and reflective, and beam with the purest benefrom above by John-whom, by the way. I would name volence and philanthropy, such as once animated the oras an excellent guide as well as a reputable boy-we de-iginal; and what adds to the illusion is, that Bentham's scended to the extreme depth of the ravine, and, with own hair is fixed to the modelled likeness. It is white certain heroic ladies who dared with us the perils of the and long, and of a particularly fine texture, and flows path, we gazed from this place upon the sheet of water, most gracefully over the shoulders of the divine old man falling from the height of more than two hundred and This work of art is affixed to the real skeleton, which is fifty feet. This a matter of which Niagara would not dressed in the last suit of clothes worn by this illustrispeak lightly; and there is wanting only a heavy fall of ous philosopher, and they are stuffed out so as to fil! water to make this spot not only magnificent-for that them; and he is placed in a sitting posture, resting his it is now-but terribly sublime. Mountains ascend and right hand on a stick, and the left hand in an easy and overshadow it; crags and precipices project themselves natural position on his left knee. And, to give a finish in menacing assemblages all about, as though frowning to the whole, his broad brim hat is placed on his head, over a ruin which they only await some fiat to make just as he was wont to sit upon a bench in the Temple more appalling. Nature has here hewn out a resting Gardens, contemplating some of those truths which onplace for man, where he may linger, to gaze and admire! ly now begin to be appreciated. A plain, solid, richly Below him she awakens her thunder, and darts her light-colored Spanish mahogany cabinet encloses this rich rening; above him she lifts stiil loftier summits, and around him she flings her spray and her rainbow!

a

The Police of London.

The Police of London is very numerous and extremey well organized. This useful corps, amounting, if I was rightly informed, to one thousand or more, are found in the streets at all hours of the day, as well as the night. They are distinguished by a plain blue uniform, with a little trimming upon the collar. You meet them at every turn, and judging from my own experience, they are very civil to strangers. As I often found it difficult to make my way from one part of this vast city to another, I soon learned to inquire of the first police man I met, as I was quite sure he would be both able and willing to direct me. If you speak to any other person whom you happen to meet he may be as much of a stranger as yourself. And if you step into the nearest shop you may, or may not, obtain the information you want. I ought to say, however, that if those whom you address, can address you, they will. I very rarely received a short and gruff answer-and not unfrequently would the person spoken to, insist upon going with me into the street, or

lic of one of Nature's genuine nobiltty, and we gaze on the face of this political prophet through the large plate of glass, which is so placed that the light falls upon the features, and an observer is almost tempted to speak to him. A pair of folding doors secure the glass from any injury, and serve to exclude the light when there is not a visitor.

Letter in the Sheffield Iris.

The Great First Cause. "Without a God to whom he is related and account

able," says Dr. Hopkins, President of William College, in his late excellent sermon delivered before the Legislature of Massachusetts, “man has neither dignity nor hope. Without God, the universe has no cause, its contrivances indicate no intelligence, its providence no goodness, its related parts and processes no unity, its events no convergence to one grand result, and the glorious spectacle presented in the earth and the heavens, instead of calling forth admiration and songs, is an enigma perplexing to the intellect, and torturing to the heart. Seen in its connexion with God, the universe of matter is as the evening cloud that lies in the sunlight, radiant and skirted with glory, without him it is the same cloud cold

[blocks in formation]

AGRICULTURE.

From the Monthly Genesse Farmer.

THE FARMER'S DICTIONARY

OF TERMS USEFUL IN THE SCIENCE OF AGRICULTURE.

Continued from our last.

Aquatic Plants.

Plants that live and flourish in the water are termed aquatic. All our lakes, rivers and the ocean, furnish specimens of aquatic plants, some of which are of great 3. Suffer him to rove on the Sabbath where he pleas- obtained from a weed, which, drifted ashore, is dried and use and value. A large part of the soda of commerce is

2. Allow him free use of money.

4. Give him full access to wicked companions.
5. Call him to no account for his evenings.
6. Furnish him with no stated employment.

Pursue either of these ways and you will experience a most marvellous deliverance! or will have to mourn over a ruined child. Thousands have realized the sad result, and gone mourning to the grave.

Sunflower Segars.

from the leaf of the sunflower. They are said to pos

burned for the soda of the ashes. Hundreds of square
miles in the equatorial Atlantic, at some seasons of the
year, are covered with this marine vegetation. Some
sea weeds, as the alge, that grow as they float in the
water, attain a length of several hundred feet. The rice
plant of the East Indies and the Carolinas, is an aquatic
plant, and probably contributes as much to human sub-
sistance as any plant on the globe. The wild, Zizania
aquatica, of our northern lakes and rivers, is of great

other plant, is the one known as the Jerusalem artichoke, Heliantus tuberosus, and is cultivated for the root alone. It is a species of sunflower, grows wild in several parts of South America, and the root is potatoe shaped. The roots are valuable as a food for animals, and are not unpalatable to man. They are found in most of our gardens, an improper place for them, as they are apt to spread and are somewhat difficult to eradicate. In this country few attempts have been made at their field culture, but those have been profitable. In highly cultivated grounds in England and Holland, they have been found extremethered from a single acre. Their flavor is much like that ly productive, 70 or 80 tons of the roots having been gaof the former artichoke, when boiled and prepared for the table, and they are very valuable for feeding hogs and store pigs.

Ashes.

When wood is burned in a position that excludes the air, the product is coal; if combustion is performed in the open air the produce is ashes. Ashes by being leached, or having warm water passed through them, are de

A Mr. Goodman of Marietta, Lancaster county, Pa. service to the native tribes of those regions, feeding the prived of the alkali they contain, and this obtained in the has taken out a patent for a new kind of segars made immense quantities of water fowls of all kinds that visit shape of potash or soda, by evaporation. Different wood, and breed in those inhospitable climes, as well as furnish- and plants, vary much in the quantity of ashes and alsess a pectorial virtue in coughs, colds, asthma, &c., and ing food to the natives themselves when their usual sup- kali they produce; the fir, beech and popular, ranking plies from other sources fail them. The flags, rushes, the lowest, and the box, willow, elm, wormwood and fuand other grasses that grow in the waters of the lakes, mitory the highest. The leached ashes of several kinds or other quiet waters, the pond lily, &c. are further exof grain, were found by Ruckert, to be constituted as amples of aquatic plants. follows:

are pronounced regular life-preservers.

Substitute for Green Tea.

It is said and believed that the first young leaves of the currant bush gathered as soon as they put out, and dried upon tin, or tin pans, can hardly be distinguished from green tea. Will any of our Long Island Farmers try the experiment and communicate result.

Parental Weakness.

N. Y. Gaz.

[blocks in formation]

Europe's Balance.

Argillaceous.

A term applied to soils in which clay forms a principal ingredient. It was derived from argil or clayey, as aluminous from alumine. In agriculture, argillaceous and aluminous are words of the same import, and mean soils or earth in which clay predominates. Analysis shows how the proportion can be determined.

Artesian.

A kind of well made by boring through the successive strata of the earth until water is water is found. This name is derived from Artois in France, where the system of boring was first successfully adopted. By penetrating the rocky crust of earth, in this way, the water frequently rises to the surface, and flows a living stream; in other cases it rises so as to be obtained without difficulty.In this country wells have been bored to the depth of a thousand feet, and those of 500 or 700 are not uncommon. Various product are obtained from the earth in this way. In Albany a valuable mineral spring has been

Two worthy M. P.s were one evening regaling them-reached by boring. The great quantities of water at selves and discussing politics as well as their cups and hiccups would permit them—one said, solemnly Europe's balance must not be o'erthrown To which the other replied

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

A plant cultivated in gardens and deservedly esteemed for its value as an article of food, when properly prepared. Its value is also greatly enchanced by the early season at which it is produced. It is the young shoots of the plant, as they attain the height of some four or six inches above the earth, that are used for food, and these are cut slanting upwards, about two inches below the surface. Asparagus is usually grown in beds, and requires a soil very rich and deep, and if not so naturally, it must be made so by trenching and manuring with fine manure or compost, before the plants, which are raised from the seeds, are put into it. They may be set in rows eighteen inches distance, and ten inches in the row, or squares at one foot distance. The beds during the winter are secured from frost, and the plants prepared for an early start by a covering of straw or litter. The beds must be loosened in the spring, and a coating of mould saturated with liquid manure worked in, has been found a capital dressing. A few plants are not cut but reserved for seeds to keep a supply of young plants for beds. In a favorable soil, an asparagus bed, when established, and properly attended to, will last many years. The plants are usually allowed to stand three years before they are cut; some, however, commence on them the second year. They are boiled and eaten with butter, as are green peas, &c. The asparagus offers a

striking instance of the effect produced on plants by cultivation. In some parts of Europe it is found growing wild on the sea shore, its stem not thicker than a goose quill, and only a few inches in height. The cultivated plant is sometimes found three-fourths of an inch in diameter, and grows to six feet in height. In the neighborhood of cities or villages asparagus is cultivated as a source of great profit; and should have place in every kitchen garden.

Atmosphere.

The height of the atmosphere is calculatnd at fortysix miles; its pressure on the earth to be equal to that of a column of water thirty-two feet and a half high, and on the body of a middling sized man at 32,440 pounds. The density of the atmosphere diminishes in geometrical progression. In all the functions of animal and vegetable life, the atmosphere acts a most important part.— It is composed of oxygen and hydrogen, carbonic gas, and aqueous vapor. In addition to these permanent ingredients, it contains a multitude of other substances, in the form of vapor or gas, varying in kind and quantity according to circumstances, but all exercising more or less influence on the animal and vegetable kingdoms.— Of those which affect the animal, that undetermined something called "miasma," which produces disease to such an extent as to render some of the most fertile districts of the globe scarcely habitable, may be adduced; and of those which act on the vegetable, the ammoniacal products, the result of fermentation, may be mentioned. By stirring the earth, the absorption of these atmospheric agents is greatly promoted, and the consequent vegetation of plants proportionably accelerated.

Under Beds.

The Ohio Patriot recommends the use of corn husks for the filling of under beds, and says "they are prepared by pulling off the outer husk, hackling the inner ones until they become as fine as you want them, and then cutting off the stem.

Beds prepared in this way are very soft and elastic, and will last for years. Straw, upon the contrary, becomes as fine as chaff, and requires renewing at short periods-while it lacks the elasticity and softness of the inner husks."

SELECT POETRY.

From the New Yorker.
THE OLD ALBUM.

I've drawn thee from thy hiding place,
Relic of by-gone days,

Again thy gilded leaves to trace,

Thy well-known garb to praise; To bring thee to the glaring light,

From out thy silent nook ;Come, tell old tales of moments bright, Thou long neglected book!

How well I know thy crimson coat,
So garnished o'er with gold!

And half with sorrow, half with smiles,
Thy tarnished robe behold.

I cannot but recall the time

When first I saw thee lie, Affections gift, to mark the round

Of some gay holiday.

And first, the faded lines I trace,

Penned by a gentle hand; They bring to mind the fairest face

That graced a youthful band.
Sweet play-mate of my earlier years-
Companion of the past!

Thou hast forgot thy life of tears,
In happier realms at last!

Again I turn the rustling leaf;

Who comes before me now,
With the light heart that mocked at grief—
The fair unclouded brow;

The eye that flashed with Passion's ray,
Unalterably bright!

How changed! long years have stol'n away
That wild, fantastic light.

Ha! my gay cousin-thou whose mirth
Was never on the wane!

I read thy sonnet till I deem

Thou't by my side again,
With thy wild laughter ringing free,

Thy sly and merry air!
That time is gone; that manly brow

A graver look doth wear.
What fairy fingers held the pen

That traced this dainty page? It bears the date of other years, And seems quite pale with age. Ah! I remember me of one

Just then become a bride;
She smiles a careful matron now,

With prattlers at her side.
And here is writ a blithesome song,
And here a tender lay;
This page is sad enough I ween,

And this one passing gay.
And here a youthful poet's hand

Placed the sweet rhymes he wove; The truant!-in a foreign land

He sought another love.

Thou mak'st me sad, thou gilded toy!

And as I gaze on thee,

I think how time and change have thrown
Their shadows over me.

The flush of youth has vanished now,
Friends severed far and wide;

In curls that wave on many a brow,
Time's silvery foot-marks hide.

Go back, then, to thy silent nook.
Memento of the past!

Thou tell'st a tale, my long-loved book,

Of years that flew too fast;

And read'st a lesson to my heart,

Perused full oft before;

That hopes must fade, and friends must part, Till life's dark day is o'er.

THE ORPHANS,

M. N. M.

All night we have wandered along the dark moor, And tho' hungry and cold we must wander all day, For the rich man looks harsh in the face of the poor, And smiles at our sorrows, and drives us away.

We cried to a stranger to give us some food,

And let us lie down and repose in his shed; But he told us that beggars might starve if they would, And then sent us away without supper or bed.

Two orphans are we, without kindred or home,

Our father and mother are gone to be blest; So here unprotected and wretched we roam,

When hungry for bread and weary for rest.

O mother, dear mother!-look down from the skyNo eye has smiled on us since you went to sleep; And pray to God that your children may die,

For 'tis painful to starve, and 'tis sinful to weep. Those babies passed onward through village and town, And prattled their sorrows at window and door; But little they got save a sneer and a frown,

Or the pity of those who could give them no more. But one night, as they lay on the pavement all chill, The Angel of Death spread his wings to the blast; And he gazed on the sleeping, so wretched and still, And bore them away to their God as he passed. O you that have plenty, remember the poor,

And give to the wretched-a little will do; Lest the orphan you frown on should die at your door, And God in His wrath, should avenge them on you.

From the Cincinnatti Chronicle.

MUSIC.

There's music in the mountain stream
Whose foaming waters never fail,
And in the gently murmuring brook,
When slowly winding through the vale;
There's music in the woodland grove,

When zephyrs sport among the trees,
And plumaged songsters tune their lay,
Assisted by the rustling leaves.
There's music in the lovely dell,

When one frail flow'ret fades in death, And weeping sisters bow their heads, Lament her fate, then yield their breath: 'Tis music which can charm the heart,

While days and moments onward roll, And like the thought of former joys, It's sweet, yet mournful to the soul. But could there be Elysian fields,

Where earth's transplanted flow'rets grow, Where faded leaves their sisters meet,

And rippling waters constant flow?

What choral music then would rise,

When flow'ret met her sister fair, And faded leaves regained that stem On which they grew and flourished here. Yes, music of a sweeter strain

Is heard from Heaven's etherial dome; When seraph's harp and angel's tongue Proclaim earth's flow'rets welcome home.

From the New Yorker.

THE SERENADE.
BY ROBERT TURNER.

I am beneath thy lattice, love-
I see that thou art there;

The wreath of flowers thou'rt looking on,
I grant, is passing fair;

But why should aught so frail and false Such fond attention crave? They'll fade upon thy bridal brow, And blossom on thy grave.

On me, on me, my lady love,

Dart those sweet glances bright;
Ah! let them kindly fall on him

Who lives but in their light!
For should he cease to dwell beneath
The radiance of that eye,
On which alone his spirit feeds,
What could he do but die?

THE RICHMOND COUNTY MIRROR:

A WEEKLY PAPER PRINTED ON STATEN ISLAND, DEVOTED TO SCIENCE, LITERATURE, & NEWS.

THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.

SELECT TALES.

From the Southern Literary Messenger.
THE GAME OF CHESS.
BY THE AUTHORESS OF "LOSING AND WINNING," &C.

"I can scarcely believe my senses,' said Mr. Chauncey, as he was one morning sitting with Mrs. Atkins, "I can scarcely believe my senses, when I see my old classmate, whom I left just out of college, and my little friend Susan Leigh, whom I found sitting on her father's knce when I called to take leave before my departure for Europe-now married-settled, established in life! It appears impossible! I have always thought of you as of a

child!"

Mrs. Atkins smiled. "You forget that we are all six years older than when you left us; and perhaps you forget, too, that I was the youngest child, and had the privilege of sitting on my father's knee much longer than daughters are wont to do. You and Charles are about the same age, and I am about five years my husband's junior. Do you feel too young to marry?"

"Oh, no—I am now six-and twenty-one year your husband's senior, and now that my wanderings are over I should really like to marry soon, could I find a woman possessing the qualities I wish in a wife, who would unite her fate with mine."

"I conclude your taste has become fastidious, from your observations of beauty and accomplishments in Europe," said Mrs. Atkins.

46

No, not exactly so-but from close observation of domestic life, I design to be guided by judgment rather than fancy, in my choice; and sincerely hope I shall never be so much fascinated by the charms of any one as to be unable to form a correct opinion of her real character."

[ocr errors]

NEW BRIGHTON, MARCH 30, 1839.

of my wife will increase or diminish my happiness!
Should my heart ever be warmed to love," he added,
while his eyes beamed in a manner that showed how
deeply he could love-"Should my heart ever be warm-
ed to love, may its fire be unceasingly fed by the same
gentle hand that first kindled the flame-and may it
burn brighter and clearer, until lost in that world, the
only element of which is love! May my wife be a gen-
the spirit to accompany me in the path to heaven, and to
lure me back if I am tempted to stray, and not a scourge
to drive me thither as the only place of refuge from her-

self!"

"You have grown so solemn, Mr. Chauncey," said Mrs. Atkins, "and seem to look for a wife so free from human imperfections, so angelic, that I am almost afraid to tell you that I am expecting a visit from two young friends, with one or the other of whom I had hoped you would be pleased."

"I do not expect freedom from human imperfections, Mrs. Atkins, but I do hope for freedom from gross defects. But who are the friends of whom you speak?" "The eldest, who is not far from my age, is Augusta Leigh, and the other is Abby Eustace, my favorite school friend, who is two years younger."

[ocr errors]

• VOLUME III.-NUMBER IX.

that was in her hand to an opposite window, inquired who that elegant looking young man was, conversing with a lady, on the other side of the street?

"That?" said Mrs Atkins, advancing to the window-" that is Mr. Chauncey, one of Charles' oldest friends.”

"Horace Chauncey, who recently returned from Europe?" asked Miss Leigh.

"The same," answered Mrs. Atkins. "He will give us a call, presently, I dare say, as he comes here very often."

Before Mr. Chauncey arrives, there is just time for us to sketch a hasty outline of the portraits of the young ladies. Miss Leigh was tall, well made and commanding in her person. Her face was brilliant, with black eyes, and dark hair, but rather pale than otherwise, except when tinted by some degree of excitement. Miss

Eustace was rather below the medium stature of women,
beautifully formed, and the most cheerful, happy look-
ing creature in the world. Her eyes, shaded by long
silken lashes, were of undefinable color, and were dark
or light, as intellect and feeling were awakened or lay
quiet. Her face was blooming, yet the color was so
constantly changing its shade that it seemed but the at-
"And can you tell me nothing concerning them but tendant on a heart “alive to the touch of joy or wo."
their names and ages?" asked Mr. Chauncey.
Mrs. Atkins was right. In a few minutes Mr.
'No-positively, I will tell you nothing else, except Chauncey came in and was made acquainted with the
that either of them is pretty enough for a man who does young ladies. When Miss Leigh's name was men-
not make beauty his first requisite in a wife; and each │tioned, she calmly raised her eyes and answered his civ-
has fortune enough for one who does not expressly mar-liities in the way common to well-bred young ladies, on
ry for money. This is all I will tell you; but as they being made acquainted with a stranger; but when Miss
will be here in the course of a week, you will have an Eustace's turn came, her color was heightened to a burn
opportunity of studying their respective characters for ing glow, and a slight but rather tremulous courtesy was
yourself."
the only answer to the few words of compliment he ut-
"Has he forgotten?" thought she, as she re-
sumed her seat Can he have forgotten?"

After a few minutes' thoughtful silence, Mr. Chaun-tered.
said-
cey

'No, Mrs. Atkins, I think I shall not be fastidious,

"You will not find it particularly easy to fall in love designedly," said Mrs. Atkins, laughing, nor to save yourself from falling in love by the efforts of reason and I shall be able to overlook imperfections in my wife, as judgment. Of one thing, however, your remark has sat-hope she would be willing to do in me. Qualities and isfied me-at present you are completely heart-whole." “That is certainly true, and it is equally true that I am perfectly willing to fall in love with the first lady meet, with whom there is a reasonable hope of living happily."

I

You really contemplate the event with the most enviable coolness," said Mrs. Atkins, laughing, "I do not recollect to have heard any young gentleman talk of love and matrimony with such perfect calmness and self possession. How charming it will be, should the lady of your choice exercise as much judgment, and have as little enthusiasm as yourself! Truly, nothing would be likely to disturb the 'even tenor of your way.''

"It is very possible to talk of fire without growing warm," said Mr. Chauncey, smiling. "But, seriously, I hope to love my wife, should I ever marry, with my whole soul. What misery to have one with such discordant qualities as would alternately kindle and quench the flame of affection! The heart must soon wither under such a process. It is my belief that

"L'Hymen et ses liens

I

acquirements which many might deem indispensable, I
could dispense with; but there is one quality that I con-
sider of primary importance—and next to pure and firm
principles, that is what I seek for in my choice."

"And what is that?" asked Mrs. Atkins.

...

Mr. Chauncey lengthened his visit to nearly an hour, and it differed not materially from other visits of a similar kind. The conversation was of a desultory and a general character, and carried on in a lively manner by Mrs. Atkins, Mr. Chauncey and Miss Leigh-Mise Eustace never uttering a word except when directly addressed. On taking leave, Mr. Chauncey promised to profit by the invitation of Mrs. Atkins, to visit them ve

"You will forgive me if I do not answer that ques-ry frequently. He was literally in search of a wife, and tion, I wish to observe and answer for myself, and shall be more likely to judge correctly, if it is not known for what I am looking."

Well," said Mrs. Atkins, "you appear very moderate and reasonable in your demands and yet, were I an unmarried lady, I should be more afraid of you than of any young gentleman I have seen. Really, you are so calm and reasonable and scrutinizing as to be quite terrifying. Give me the creature of impulse, of passion, of enthusiasm, who will be too much carried away with his own feelings to investigate my character too nicely; whose warm imagination will clothe me in virtues of its own rosy hues. Surely," she added, after a momentary pause, "surely, had Charles been of your temperament, I should never have known the happiness of being his wife."

Sont le plus grands ou des maux ou des biens." "One day, about a week after the preceding converand I would therefore use circumspection in a matter of sation had taken place, Mrs. Atkins was seated in her so much consequence. Let me rather pursue the jour-parlor with two friends who had arrived a day or two beney of life alone, than to feel a doubt whether the society fore, when Miss Leigh, raising her eyes from the work

it was his wish to become really acquainted with those young ladies he met, in whom there was nothing which,

from the first moment, told him that an union with them was impossible. The two friends of Mrs. Atkins were certainly not of this number, and his study of their character became deeply interesting. That of Miss Leigh, because she had a great deal of character; was free, entertaining and even fascinating in conversation, with a heart overflowing with kindly feelings, and a head filled with noble sentiments and independent thought; that of Miss Eustace, because he had to judge of her by her countenance, as she was extremely taciturn and retiring when he was present. Her face, however, was no very dull study; for of her, if of any one, it might perhaps have been said-'her body thought'—and occasionally, when he met her eye, there was a flash across his memory of something he had long before seen or felt or dreamed-an undefinable sensation of pleasure, but too evanescent to be caught or retained.

"How do you like Susan's guests, Horace?" Mr.

« PreviousContinue »