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your pantaloons, never to make the experiment. Early rising and a walk before breakfast are very wholesome practices, as Dr. Kitchiner may have informed you; but perambulating a field full of dew, is, I humbly opine, neither wholesome nor agreeable. Heaven forefend that the fellows who prate thus should be bedraggled by the tall grass in a rank meadow, as I have been: they would cease to write pastorals. Again: never go Isaac-Waltonising up and down the banks of a creek, unless | you are inclined to get your mouth and eyes full of cobwebs, your shoes full of mud, your clothes torn to pieces with briers, and, if a novice, your hands lacerated with the fins of a cat-fish-as the reward of your experiments in angling. I would also forewarn you against lying down in the woods and going to sleep-an amusement which some swains seem to have practiced with great success, though I must own I never expect to have any fancy for it until the race of spiders and seed-ticks become extinct.

Do not expect to find everything as you would have it made to order: there would be some sad variations from the letter of such instructions; and

it strikes me just now that that excellent, but eccentric old lady, Dame Nature, was guilty of a great oversight in neglecting to create a few spontaneous fountains of ready-made soda-water. It is some consolation however, that we have everywhere the materials for making mint-juleps.

CARL.

THE BEAUTY OF BANTAM.

There's a glow on her brow like the light of devotion-
There's a spell round her form, and a grace in each motion,
A lustre undazzling, undimm'd, and serene;

As gentle, and stately, and staid, as a queen!
Her voice has a soft and a silvery sweetness,
The muses that glance in their fairy-like fleetness,
Unmatch'd by the seraphim's holiest psalm!

I

Such music ne'er woke in their forests of palm.
have deem'd her an angel that Eden adorning,
Whose presence migh banish the spirit of strife!
The mild-beaming planet-the star of the morning-
Whose lustre illumines the landscape of life!
"Tis midnight!-the star-lamps are lighted in heaven,
And dimly reflected in ocean and river;
To the pure heart, and holy, as emblems they're given,
Of the mitres and crowns that will sparkle forever!

Gay spirits are round thee, thou fairest of dreamers,
To breathe in thine ear the sweet accents of love;
But while thou art waking, like morning's bright streamers,
They will vanish, and blend with the glories above!
'Tis the hey-day of fancy, the harvest of feeling!

And I would that thy course through the future might be As bright as the visions that o'er thee are stealing

As pure and enraptured, as tranquil and free! Thou hast dream'd of a land where the loved ones ne'er

sever,

May thy day-star of glory grow brighter forever!

And the fairy gondola is waiting for thee;

God guide thee, fair voyager, o'er life's changing sea!

When the castles thy fancy is building are shattered,
When the friends thou art cherishing now shall be scattered,
And their sun-lighted halls shall have vanish'd away;
And the garlands of youth have all gone to decay-
If shadows and darkness can ever come o'er thee,

Shedding blight on thy pathway and gloom on thy brow, When the joys of the past rise in brightness before thee, Wilt thou think of the minstrel who sings of thee now?

Though from life I may pass like the vanishing vapor,
And no trace of my footsteps be left on the shore ;

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO MISS O. G. B., OF LITCH-Yet, perchance, this memento, recorded on paper,

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The nations may vaunt of their sages and heroes,
Who quailed not in battle and bowed not in prayer;
But their proudest and bravest-their Nelson's and Neros-
All were humbled, and knelt at the shrine of the Fair!
That soul must be seared, and that intellect stupid,
Which feels not a trembling the stoic might crave,
When, arm'd with the arrows and quiver of Cupid,
They go forth to conquer the hearts of the brave!

Old Scotia may boast of the maids of her highlands,
And France of her damsels enchanting and gay—
And the poets may sing of the ever-green islands,
Where the charms of the beautiful fade not away;
And even New England her legions may rally,

From mountain and moorland, from cottage and hallBut the fair flower that blossoms in Bantam's green valley, In brightness and beauty excelleth them all!

With an eye and a spirit unshadowed by sadness,
What a theme for Anacreon's magical lyre!
With a smile so bewitching, so blended with gladness,
That Apollo might lay down his harp to admire !

May float down the current when I am no more! And if, when these day-dreams have fled as a phantom, Far strangers shall ask, as they pass o'er the plain, For the home or the fate of "the Beauty of Bantam," I shall not have chanted her praises in vain! Wilmington, Delaware.

HARP OF THE VALE.

THE JUDGMENT.

The summons sounds !-the rock-built mountains shake; The living hear it, and the dead awake And leave their transient beds in earth and sea And gather to the judgment! Even he Who deem'd his sleep eternal, hears the token, And starts amazed to find his slumbers broken! Starts up-yet deems his senses are deceiving; "Till other voices, louder than the first, And still he turns,-half doubting, half believing,Like earthquake-tones upon his spirit burst, And he is moved, by a mysterious power, To that dread finale-the last, decisive hour, With all who erst in life's great drama trod : The curtain falls-we leave him with his God!

Oh Genius! when thy wing betrays its trust,
And stoops from Heaven to revel in the dust-
When the aspiring spirit, made to hold
Converse with beings of ethereal mould,
Turns from the banquet of the skies, to swell
The gibbering discord with the heirs of hell,
How-if the prayers of the redeem'd in heaven
Can aught avail for those whose hopes are riven—
How must they plead for those they love below,
When they behold them sunk in crime and woe!
Thrice honored they who, in this vale of tears,
Increase in wisdom as they grow in years,
And with their wisdom own religion's sway,
And dedicate to good each passing day!
Fair Poesy shall breathe her songs for them,
And Fame shall crown them with her diadem ;
Lamps, lit in heaven, shall guide the pilgrim band,
And light and lure them to that "better land."

MR. CHAPIN'S ORATION.* Orations commemorative of the nation's Birth-day-either from their frequency, or what is more probable their want of originality-are not generally held in much esteem as a part of our national literature. When, therefore, we meet with one which is characterized by novelty, eloquence and genius, the pleasure with which we read it is greatly enhanced by its rarity. We were so fortunate as to hear Mr. Chapin deliver his address to a numerous and delighted auditory,

and charmed as we were on the occasion, we were some

Of Mr. Brooks, we hesitate not to say, that he has prov ed by his productions, that he possesses an intellect of superior order, calculated to shine even in the highest places of literary pursuit. His works, and he has given several to the public, have all been well received, and by te candid in the ranks of the most rigid and impartial erities he has not been left without his meed of honor.

As a poet, Mr. Brooks, though a young man, has estab lished a reputation which cannot soon fade from the minds of such as are fond of what is really valuable in such com position. His pieces for the most part, have been characterized by a strain of piety, which seldom fails to leave its impression, and which, being the true province of poetry, w well calculated to gain lasting and imperishable fame. As a prose writer, he holds, as he justly deserves, a position equal in all respects to any writer of his years now in this country.

In this present effort, the author has departed from the walks of light literature, among which he has sometime wandered, and sought a more enduring fame in this sold and substantial enterprise, crowned no less with success than his former labors have been. We are pleased at this, because it not only places him upon a high eminence in letters, but also because all such efforts tend to the elevation material to the common stock. of our literature, by adding so much of the more valuate

The address is well conceived and ably carried out, and suits in an admirable degree the present age and the people to whose good sense it makes a powerful appeal. It covers a vast field, and evinces a research not common in these days of show and superficiality. The exposition of the unity of the theology of the ancient Greeks, is especialy worthy of commendation.

We lament with the author, that our country is becom what disposed to ascribe a part of its thrilling effect to the ing more celebrated for the avaricious propensities of 123 fine elocution of the Orator. Having given it however an inhabitants, than for their desire of mental improvements; attentive reading since its appearance in type, justice re- and to such as are disposed to seek for the accumulation of quires the acknowledgment that the high praise bestowed upon the performance is due to its intrinsic merits. Mr. wealth, preferring "filthy lucre" to the sublime and more ennobling pursuits of mental enlightenment, we would recom Chapin's style is highly unique and graphic. He presents to mend a careful perusal of the address, and a candid exa the mind's eye a succession of vivid pictures, which are nation into their own depraved feelings and appetites. E warm with life and redolent of beauty. He narrates events is suited to every profession, and each may learn as he with remarkable power,-grouping all their striking inci-reads, some truth which affords important information

dents with such force and effect as to enchain the listener's

attention irresistibly. We regret that the want of space denies us the pleasure of publishing a few extracts from the speech before us. We are satisfied however that it will be eagerly sought after, especially by those who were forH. tunate enough to hear it.

CLASSICAL STUDIES.†

the address, we subjoin the close, which is an earnest reRestricted by our limits from attempting an analysis of

commendation of the Bible as a classic.

"With a generous enthusiasm you have devoted your days and your nights, gentlemen, to liberal studies; wa the precincts of yonder temple, sacred to wisdom, you carr seen in reality, the fabulous Panchaia of the happy islands, and in their works have contemplated the monumens of The address and poem before us, neatly published in a those consecrated to immmortality, reared by their own sabpamphlet of fifty pages, by the society before which they lime genius. You have delighted to sweep the dust were delivered, are the productions of gentlemen well ages from the papyrus, and peruse its venerable recor ́sknown, and well appreciated in the higher walks of Ameri- the relics of ancient literature, sanctified by the teache can literature. Their writings have won for them an im-time, have enkindled a lively admiration of the beautes perishable renown, and they have attained through them to Greece, and the colossal grandeur of Rome-you have in an eminence, distinguished alike for the difficulties attend-vestigated their polity, their laws, their religion, and ins ing its access and the admiration it never fails to attract the whole have deduced principles from truly gifted minds.

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"To warm the genius and to mend the heart' You have revelled in the riches of classic lore, and have done well. But there is another Classic which I e bound to commend to you, equally ancient in origin and L. teresting in narrative; equally chaste in style, and more sublime in its records, its philosophy and its precepts—*** scriptures of the Old and New Testament.

"In this volume, you have a pleasant picture of the $7plicity of the early ages, in all the flowing vivacity of He rodotus, without his fables-you have the exhibition of 2in his political connexions and commotions-the spread

empire and the desolations of war-the achievements of men and the miracles of God-described with all the force and atticism of Thucydides, and the graces of Xenophonyou have a morality exactly suited to the nature and destiny of man, more elevated than ever came from the Portico or Academy—a system of laws and religion that far transcend the dreams of ancient sages-promulgated by him to whom power and dominion and adoration belong-every variety of composition, characterized by all the sublimities and beauties of style-of passion, of sentiment, and of action-the visions of the seer, the denunciations of the prophet, the teachings of the sage, the inspirations of the psalmist, the records of the evangelist, and the triumphs of the martyr-tending to inform the mind, move the sensibilities, refine the taste, and above all, purify the heart-fit it for the discharge of the duties of life, and for the destinies of another and a better world. This classic, above all others, I would commend to you.

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the waters of Helicon, will not find those of 'Siloa's brook, that flows fast by the Oracle of God,' less invigorating, nor the dews of Hermon less sweet than those of the Aonian Agar.ippe. You who have listened to the ravings of the Sibyl, and the wild frenzy of the Pythoness will rejoice to hear the seers of old, as they wildly sweep the harp to the oracles of God"

"If you have risen, with the sublimity of the Grecian bard, to Jove amid the clouds of Olympus, in reading the admired lines,

Η, και κυανέησιν επ' οφρυσέ νευσε Κρονίων
Αμβροσίαι ὁ αρα χαίται επερρώσαντο άνακτος

8

Κρατος απ' αφανατοι» μεγαν ὁ ελλελιξεν Ολύμπου ;
you will rise, with the inspiration of the psalmist, to the
Omnipotent who maketh the heaven of heavens his abode."
"If commiseration of the unhappy exile has been awak-
ened in your breast by the plaint of Meliboeus,

Nos patriæ fines, et dulcia linquimus arva
Nos patriam fugimus,'

"Compare its cosmogony with that of any who have dreamed upon this subject, either philosophers or poetsthe Orphic egg of the Egyptians-the mud principle of your feelings will be more excited at the lament of the Sanchoniatho, or the aqueous of Thales-the atoms of daughters of Zion, as they sit in sorrow by the waters of Epicurus, or the active and passive principles of Zeno, Babylon; or at the captivity of the young king of Israel— Plato and Aristotle-with the vainer imaginings of the po-Weep not for the dead, but for him that goeth away from ets-and you cannot hesitate for a moment to acknowledge his country, for he shall return no more.' the superiority of Moses' to that of all others-in truth and magnificence-the mighty God, by the word of his power, speaking the universe into existence-He spake and it was done.' 'He commanded and it stood fast.' But while all other cosmogonies are inferior to this, they attest its truth-the universality of the idea of the proper creation, arried by tradition into every portion of the habitable arth.

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The chronology of the Bible, although disputed by those who have been guided by erroneous and contradictory eras, eriods and divisions of time, and those who mistake the maginations of science for realities-has been attested by pacurrent profane history, by astronomical calculations, and the discoveries of true science; and its historical facts e proved by the histories of other nations-by ruins, by Donuments and medals.

"Compare the commandments given to Moses with the aws of Solon, Minos, Lycurgus, Pythagoras or the ancient tatutes of Egypt and of Rome-and while you will find hem, at best, imperfectly suited to that particular people or whom they were made, you will find the requirements f the Decalogue of universal application, suited to the ondition and character of every kindred and tongue-bearag upon them the broad seal of the sovereign King of Kings, to whom the world and the inhabitants thereof be

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"If you have been pleased with the Doric reed of Theocritus and the mellow flute of Virgil, you cannot fail to enjoy the fervent, yet delicate passion of the pastoral of Solomon. If you have admired the epigrams of Martial, the golden sentences of Pythagoras, you will relish still more the precepts of Ecclesiastes and the Proverbs. If the elegiac strains of Tibullus and Ovid have excited tender sentiments of sorrow, your heart will be melted at the sorrows of the Saviour over Salem, the Lamentations of Jeremiah and the threnetic plaint of Hosea."

"If you have admired the social feelings of Scipio and Lælius, you will find a parallel in the fraternal affection of David and Jonathan; and will see friendship and grief sanctified by the Saviour, as he weeps at the grave of Lazarus. If you have been moved by the lament of Agamemnon over his wounded brother, the sympathies of the inmost soul will be stirred at the passionate grief of David, for the slain upon the mountains of Gilboa. Acquainted with the beauties of the wanderings of the king of Ithaca, you will relish, the more, the sublimities of the wanderings of the Israelites. Moyed at the manner of the discovery of Ulysses, the waters of the soul will be stirred, when Joseph makes himself known to his brethren. Struck with pathetic interest at the sacrifice of Iphigenia, your emotions will be stronger as you stand with Abraham and Isaac, upon the mount of Moriah. Familiar with the histories of Clelia and Penthesilea, you will appreciate the daring of Jael, and the valor of Judith, as she unsheathes the sword of slaughter in the tent of Holofernes. Beholding the grandeur of the eagle as he bears the bolt of destruction to the throne of Jove, you will contemplate the purity of the dove, carrying to the ark the bough of mercy; or, on the shores of Jordan, bringing down the spirit of the Deity to sustain the soul of man amid the sorrows of a ruined world. Pleased with the maternal solicitude of Cornelia, in rearing the Gracchi to be ‘jewels' of pride, you will applaud the nobler ambition of the mother of Samuel, in seeking to make him a jewel worthy of the signet of the Lord. Impressed with sentiments of moral elevation at the devotion "You will be told by some that the Greek of the Old and of Codrus and Marcus Curtius, for the good of their counSew Testament is barbarous-believe it not !-that it try, you will be filled with wonder and love at the conounds in imperfections and errors of style. It is not the descension of the incarnate God, as he gives himself a sacriact. Its peculiarities, even those that are condemned by fice for sin, upon the summit of Calvary, amid the trembe captious, its transitions, changes and irregularities, will blings of the earth and the astonishment of heaven; and, found, by the true scholar, to be parallel with those of touched with the serenity and meekness of the dying Socrae most refined Grecian authors. You who have drunk of rates, as he cheers his sorrowing friends, you will be dissolv

And while the systems of pagan theology that were the Bost rational, proposed a metaphysical worship which was bove the comprehension of the ignorant, it is the beauty the glorious system of the Bible, that the poor have the ospel preached to them; and that, while it has truths to mploy the most lofty intelligence, a way-faring man, hough a fool, need not err' in comprehending its precepts. bue your hearts with its doctrines-obey its counselsarry out its principles in thought, word and deed; and, stained through the trials of life by its holy influences, you all lie down in your graves in peace, with better hopes han ancient sages ever knew-secure of joys to which the rightest dreams of their Elysium are dim and fading.

ed in grief and love and admiration, as the expiring Sa- | in the wholesome moral lesson it contains. And the truth viour consoles the weeping daughters of Jerusalem and prays for his enemies.

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"Such are a few of the beauties of the Bible; and, if its grand truths be found to rob poetry and mythology of some of their etherial fancies, it substitutes nobler truths, and sentiments equally chaste. If it has displaced cloud-compelling Jove from Olympus, it has placed the heavens under the care of him who weigheth them in his balance,' and 'directeth his thunder under the whole heavens, and his lightning to the ends of the earth.' If Aurora no longer opens the doors of the east, her office is performed by him 'who causeth the day-spring to know his place.' If the sun be no longer under the care of Apollo, is guided by him 'who hath set a tabernacle for the sun.' If Diana has forgotten to lead her circlet in the heavens, it revolves at the bidding of him who hath appointed the moon her seasons.' If the sceptre of Eolus is broken, the winds are under the direction of him who guides the whirlwind, and propels the storm'-' who maketh the clouds his chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind.' If the trident of Neptune no longer sways the sea, its billows heave beneath the eye of him who hath said to the deep, thus far shalt thou come, but no further, and here shall thy proud waves be staid.' If Ceres has deserted the fields, they are under the care of him who has promised that 'seed-time and harvest shall succeed each other' to the end of time. If the vintage has ceased to ripen for Bacchus, it abounds for him, who 'causeth wine, to make glad the heart of man.' If Nemesis no longer bears the balances of the earth, they are transferred to him, the habitation of whose throne is justice and judg ment.' If the Dryads have forsaken the groves, and the Naiads the streams, the voice of Deity is speaking to the heart, in the whisper of every tree, and the murmur of every fountain. If the Muses, that presided over the spheres, have abandoned the objects of their tutelar regard, they are still impelled by the hand that rounded them, and peal out the hymn in which they united, when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.' If Iris has ceased to be the messenger of the wrath of Juno, it has become the covenant of the mercy of Jehovah. If Pluto has resigned the guardianship of Hades, it is to him who holds the keys of hell and death;' and, if the Lares and Penates have abandoned the threshold and hearthstone, their place is supplied by him who hath promised to make the habitation of the righteous his abode, and to dwell in the heart of the humble. If all the deities have vanished, before the light of truth and revelation, THE LORD GOD OMNIPOTENT reigneth."

In our examination of the poem, we find that Mr. Thomson has done himself great credit in the part allotted him by the Philomathæan Society. His "Uncertainty of Literary Fame," is not more correct in its poetical arrangement, than

told in the pleasant and familiar style of the poem, may be of service to many who are more anxious to weare "3.77 nothings of bright thoughts," than to earn solid reputation by dint of persevering study, and patient improvement.

The poet drops a tear upon the memory of Keats, we'l known as the young Englishman who was immolated upca the altar of criticism, which is creditable to the feelings of his sympathetic nature.

It will serve as a specimen of his work.

46

So hapless Keats the ardent race began, So strove for fading glory as he ranAnxious to leave an honored name behind, Which, midst her gems, posterity might find Encircled still with the unwithering bays Wreathed round it in his own triumphant days. Alas! too soon the blasting mildew came, The frost of censure gathered round his fameHis dreams of greatness and ambition passed, As the thin cloud that melts before the blastAnd health departed, hope for aye deferred, He sunk almost before his name was heardWhile gasping for consuming breath he lay, Wasting obscurely, drop by drop, away, The hectic burning on his faded cheek, Thus may we deem the dying hard would speak: "O yes! I know too sure that life is waningThe stream of time is ebbing fast awayAnd death's cold hand my faculties is chaining, And I am passing back to native clay;"

"Yes! I already feel the daisies growing Above my green grave, where the wild birds going About among the trees, shall sweetly sing Such strains as gentle thoughts and fancies bring, And quiet home-like musings, fit to grace The precincts of a poet's resting place.

"And I shall be forgotten-for my name Is writ in water-unallied to fame

I shall go down the stream of time, unknown
To the gay multitude-these flowers alone
All that remains to me--my enemy,
If he walk by, their garniture shall see,
And their sweet scent inhale, and haply start,
If yet humanity be round his heart,
Thinking of all the bitterness-the blight
His malice brought upon the dreaming wight,
Who, wrought to madness, tasked beyond his powers,
Lies there heart-broken, midst the grass and flowers.
The grass and flowers! quiet! solitude!
O lovely thought! no foe will there intrude-
No storm will break that slumber-no dark care
Will sow its weeds amid the garden there-
But guarded by the lily and the rose.
All will be beauty-all will be repose."

He died-while yet his years were brief and few,
The goal ungained, he passed from mortal view-
A web of toil around his being spun,
And yet the wreath he strove for still unwon.
Pale disappointment o'er his pallet hung,
And haggard care the song of sorrow sung-
Till, midst the bitterness of wounded pride,
And crushed desires and thwarted hopes, he died.
And this is fame!-O reason! common sense!
From such dread fantasy be our defence!
Let us not fret our fevered lives away
To win the plaudits of our fellow clay-
Nor madly sacrifice our dearest joys
On airy bubbles and on empty noise-
For fame's best tributes are but fleeting breath,
Which cannot reach us in the arms of death."

PUBLISHED MONTHLY, AT FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM-THOMAS W. WHITE, EDITOR AND PROPRietor.

VOL. VI.

SONG.

RICHMOND, SEPTEMBER, 1810. October NO. 9.4/3

We have parted forever!-no, never to meet
While Love is an idol or Friendship is sweet;
For sorrow has darken'd life's delicate span,
And our spirits are under Fate's terrible ban.
We have parted forever, forever--and yet
The past, neither of us, can wholly forget:
For still as we journey, there's one standing by
With a smile on her lip, but a tear in her eye-
Tis Memory, and yet she is almost like Hope,
As she strives with the past and the present to cope.
But the garland of Hope is of evergreen made,
And Mem'ry's is woven of flowrets that fade!
Life's chain of its gilding is rudely bereft,
But still in Hope's store-house one bright bud is left,
Whose beauty can brighten life's loneliest even-
The hope of re-union forever in Heaven.

Hartford, (Conn.) August 1st, 1840.

THOMAS W. WHITE, ESQ.
Str:-The accompanying narrative is founded on Ban-
croft's account of the Colony of Roanoke. Most of the

facts

scoted with oak led to the principal apartments, which looked out upon the west, commanding a beautiful prospect. Through the long painted windows streamed the last rays of the setting sun, and the rich colors they scattered around were softened by the delicate blue of the hangings. Beside a massive table a young and beautiful lady was seated, engaged in earnest conversation with two gentlemen standing near hear.

"Eleanor, my child," said Mr. White in a quivering voice, "I can never consent to this sacrifice. I must resign my appointment if you persist in accompanying me. Remain here at least till some arrangements have been made for your comfort and security."

"Your father is right," said George Dare, the younger of the two gentlemen, "he will return in a year or two, when the colony will be prepared for the residence of a delicate female."

"George," replied Eleanor, in a sweet, earnest voice; "I am your wife and bound to obey you, unless obedience interfere with a higher duty. In this case your authority must yield to the dying may be found in his History of the United States, and the real names of the principal persons have been preserved. command of my departed mother. I promised her It is a wonder that no one has before paid a tribute to the that my father should never want any care or atmemory of "Virginia Dare," the first offspring of English tention which it was in my power to bestow. parents born on the soil of America. The historian alone When a year since I gave you my hand, you knew as done justice to the inhabitants of “the City of Raleigh," that I had made this promise, and declared that you f whom he remarks, that, "if like their predecessors, the migrants from England and the first born of America faildin establishing an enduring settlement; unlike them, they waited death in the land of their adoption." It was imossible to shorten the story without injuring it, but I trust I will not be found too long for insertion in your interesting Yours, very respectfully,

magazine.

CORNELIA L. TUTHILL.

VIRGINIA DARE:

OR, THE COLONY OF ROANOKE.

CHAPTER I.

would aid me in its fulfilment."

Mr. White laid his hands on Eleanor's head, say-
ing-" Bless you, my priceless daughter, well have
you kept your vow. But you do n. add to my
happiness, love, by persisting in this wild scheme.
Think what it is you propose :-To accompany a
band of men to a distant country-to place your-
self in the power of untutored savages, perhaps to
fall a victim to their cruelty or pine away a prey
to famine. How much better could I endure any
of these evils, if consoled by the thought that you
were happy amidst the comforts and friends to
which from your childhood you have been accus-
tomed."

Among the many pleasant mansions scattered
ver the south of England in the days of good "Dear father," answered Eleanor, “I could not
Queen Bess, the quiet dwelling of Philip White enjoy these comforts while you were distant and
aight often pass unnoticed. Yet, though it could surrounded by dangers. Let Sir Walter find some
tot vie in splendor with the palaces of the nobility, one else to command this expedition, and if after
thad a more elegant air than the residences of a few years it shall prosper, we will then all emi-
nost private gentlemen. Even in winter it wore grate together to the New World."
pleasant aspect, and two travellers who were ap-
"If
you I wish it, dearest," said the troubled father,
roaching it in the latter part of January, paused to "I will renounce this undertaking; but, alas! in the
dmire its classic exterior and perfect proportions. inactivity of ordinary life, I fear lest I should be-
But it was in the fine arrangement of the interior come a prey to sorrow. It was to drive away the
hat the taste of the proprietor was most conspicu- sad remembrances haunting my thoughts, that I
us. From the massive doors, wide halls wain-wished to engage in this exciting adventure.

VOL. VI.-74

No

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