Give the robbers, the rapacious,
Give them bread, and bread in plenty,
That they may not need to plunder
Or to murder our good father!
Did I know where lived a robber,
I would give this little chainlet,
Give to him this cross and girdle,
Saying, 'O thou dear, dear robber,
Take this chain, this cross and girdle,
That you may not need to plunder
Or to murder our dear father!"
And the robber hears it all

Under the high crucifix.

From afar he hears approaching
Snorting steeds and wheels swift rolling.
Slowly then he takes his rifle,
Slowly does he seize his sabre,
And he stands there deeply thinking,
Under the high crucifix.

And the children still are kneeling,-
"O thou Guide of the deserted,
O thou Guardian of the wanderer,
Send us home our own dear father!"

And the father came home riding
All in safety, unendangered;
Clasps his children to his bosom,→
Happy stammerings, kisses sweet.

Only the bare sabe found they;
Found the rifle heavy loaded;
Both had fallen from his hand
Under the high crucifix.

-Translation from the German.

PRECEPTS. THOMAS RANDOLPH.*

First, worship God; that forgets to pray,

Bids not himself good

morrow nor good day;

Let thy first labor be to purge thy sin,

And serve Him first hence all things did begin.

Honor thy parents to prolong thine end;

With them, though for a truth, do not contend;

*The Thomas Randolph whc wrote the following "precepts was a wit, poet and playwright in early portion of the seventeenth century, and a great favorite with "Jen co on."

Whoever makes his father's heart to bleed,
Shall have a child that shall avenge the deed.

Think that is just; 'tis not enough to do,
Unless thy very thoughts are upright too.
Defend the truth; for that who will not die
A coward is, and gives himself the lie.

Take well whate'er shall chance, though bad it be,
Take it for good, and 'twill be good to thee.

First think; and if thy thoughts approve thy will
Then speak, and after, that thou speakest fulfill.

So live with men as if God's curious eye
Did everywhere into thine actions pry,
For never yet was sin so void of sense,
So fully faced with brazen impudence,
As that it durst before men's eyes commit
Their brutal lusts, lest they should witness it.
How dare they then offend when God shall see,
That must alone both judge and jury be?

Would'st thou live long? The only means are tuese,
'Bove Galen's diet or Hippocrates,

Strive to live well; tread in the upright ways,
And rather count thine actions than thy days,
Then thou hast lived enough amongst us here;
For every day well spent I count a year.

Live well, and then, how soon soe'er thou die,
Thou art of age to claim eternity;

But he that outlives Nestor, and appears

To have passed the date of gray Methusaleh's years,
If he his life to sloth and sin doth give,
I say he only was--he did not live.

BURR AND BLENNERHASSETT.-WILLIAM WIRT.

A plain man, who knew nothing of the curious transmuations which the wit of man can work, would be very apt to wonder by what kind of legerdemain Aaron Burr had contrived to shuffle himself down to the bottom of the pack, as an accessory, and turn up poor Blennerhassett as principal, in this treason. Who, then, is Aaron Burr, and what the part which he has borne in this transaction? He is its author, its projector, its active executor. Bold, ardent, rest

less and aspiring, his brain conceived it, his hand brought it into action.

Who is Blennerhassett? A native of Ireland, a man of letters, who fled from the storms of his own country, to find quiet in ours. On his arrival in America, he retired, even from the population of the Atlantic States, and sought quiet and solitude in the bosom of our western forests. But he brought with him taste, and science, and wealth; and "lo, the desert smiled!" Possessing himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears upon it a palace, and decorates it with every romantic embellishment of fancy. A shrubbery, that Shenstone might have envied, blooms around him. Music, that might have charmed Calypso and her nymphs, is his. An extensive library spreads its treasures before him. A philosophical apparatus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of nature. Peace, tranquillity, and innocence shed their mingled delights around him. And, to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplishment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her love, and made him the father of several children.

He

The evidence would convince you, Sir, that this is but a faint picture of the real life. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and this tranquillity, this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of the heart,-the destroyer comes. comes to turn this paradise into a hell. Yet the flowers do not wither at his approach, and no monitory shuddering through the bosom of their unfortunate possessor warns him of the ruin that is coming upon him. A stranger presents himself. It is Aaron Burr. Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts, by the dignity and elegance of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his conversation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address. The conquest was not difficult. Innocence is ever simple and credulous. Conscious of no designs itself, it suspects none in others. It wears no guards before its breast. Every door and portal and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden when the serpent entered its bowers!

The prisoner, in a more engaging form, winding himself into the open and unpracticed heart of the unfortunate Blennerhassett, found but little difficulty in changing the native character of that heart, and the objects of its affection. By degrees, he infuses into it the poison of his own ambition. He breathes into it the fire of his own courage; a daring and desperate thirst for glory; an ardor, panting for all the storm, and bustle, and hurricane of life. In a short time, the whole man is changed, and every object of his former delight relinquished. No more he enjoys the tranquil scene: it has become flat and insipid to his taste. His books are abandoned. His retort and crucible are thrown aside. His shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance upon the air in vain-he likes it not. His ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music; it longs for the trumpet's clangor, and the cannon's roar. Even the prattle of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects him; and the angel smile of his wife, which hitherto touched his bosom with ecstasy so unspeakable, is now unfelt and unseen. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul. His imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, and stars, and garters, and titles of nobility. He has been taught to burn with restless emulation at the names of great heroes and conquerors,-of Cromwell, and Cæsar, and Bonaparte. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse into a wilderness; and, in a few months, we find the tender and beautiful partner of his bosom, whom he lately permitted not the winds" of summer "to visit too roughly,"--we find her shivering, at midnight, on the wintry banks of the Ohio, and mingling her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell.

Yet this unfortunate man, thus deluded from his interest and his happiness,-thus seduced from the paths of innocence and peace,-thus confounded in the toils which were deliberately spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit and genius of another, this man, thus ruined and undone, and made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of guilt and treason,-this man is to be called the principal offender; while he, by whom he was thus plunged in misery, is comparatively innocent, a mere accessory! Is

this reason? Is it law? Is it humanity? Sir, neither the human heart nor the human understanding will bear a perversion so monstrous and absurd; so shocking to the soul; so revolting to reason!

TWO LITTLE ROGUES.-MRS. A. M. DIAZ.

Says Sammy to Dick,

66

Come, hurry! come quick!

And we'll do, and we'll do, and we'll do!
Our mammy's away,

She's gone for to stay,

And we'll make a great hullabaloo !

Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo!

We'll make a great hullabaloo."

Says Dicky to Sam,

"All weddy I am

To do, and to do, and to do,
But how doesth it go?

I so ittle to know,

Thay, what be a hullabawoo
Ri too! ri loo! woo! woo! woo!
Thay, what be a hullabawoo?

"Oh, slammings and bangings,
And whingings and whangings;
And very bad mischief we'll do!
We'll clatter and shout,
And knock things about,

And that's what's a hullabaloo!

Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo!

And that's what's a hullabaloo!

" Slide down the front stairs!

Tip over the chairs!

Now into the pantry break through!
Pull down all the tin-ware,
And pretty things in there!

All aboard for a hullabaloo!

Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo!
All aboard for a hullabaloo!

"Now roll up the table,
Far up as you are able,

Chairs, sofa, big easy-chair too!
Put the lamps and the vases
In funny old places.