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less a favorite in society. But a change was taking || now, in her relations with society, what seemed to her place within; and she perceived that she was not happy, only ease, was often encroachment: so that, being adnor satisfied with herself. Her father was less doat-mired by many for her high gifts, her beauty, and her ingly fond of her-her opposition had produced the gracefulness, she was yet but little loved. Since she natural effect to wean, in some measure, his love from had lost the hilarity of her spirit there was, in the unher. In this state of affairs Sarah had become more rebuked pride of her character, a sort of repulsion, a than reconciled to her new mother, who wisely never taste of fear, as it were, to those who would approach interfered with one whom she could not hope to change; her nearly. And she wondered to see many, her cousin but she was rather a medium of ent:eaty between her Annie amongst others, more sought and better loved and her father for any extra instance of gratification or than herself. She was a little impatient of this, and in expense. Upon one occasion, when Sarah desired to her intercourse with gentlemen she was so sedulous to join a party in an expensive excursion, the mother-in-guard this secret of her mortification that her very law urged the proposal upon the father with the kind-pique betrayed her. A young lady should, in reality, est good nature, and the permission was granted ac- never allow a gentleman the advantage of believing cordingly. A lady observed, "That was being very that she wishes him to offer her more attention than he kind of your mother." Sarah answered, "Yes, and is naturally inclined to do; for the gentlemen have the she does more than that for me every day; for I often play in their own hands, and with the complacency of have my way when she ought to have hers; but she power they have not always its possible magnanimity. found me a spoilt pet, and she makes the best of it; A lady should be watchful that she is treated at all for you know," said she, with a sort of burlesquing times with equal consideration-not, of all things, beair, "she was a lady that stepped in the way." She ing the subject of capricious regard. And this she did not think how alienating is a sarcasm of this sort, should best constrain by the dignity and the equanimibut, as usual, indulged her splenetic humor, showing ty of her own conduct. She must be trusting and canall the while a discrimination of circumstances that did, and not too watchful of offense. She must not, proved her capable of better things. with hasty passion, resent every little omission of deference, nor wince at the occasional preference of another. Let her govern her own feelings, nor appear, at every little instance, like the porcupine, salient in every point, and ruffled in every feather. Keeping her own feelings calm, she can study the character of another, and not commit her own regards where she sees less sensibility or less delicacy than characterizes real attachment. And let a young lady resolve, of all things, never, never to entertain a stronger interest for a gentleman than he evinces for her. Always to follow this rule perhaps calls for more discretion than commonly accompanies early life. But let her course be simplelet her guard her own conduct and keep free from the offenses which she deprecates. Let her not be too vivacious in manner and in talk; for it is often such young ladies, half in jest and half in earnest, that are played upon as the dupes of a fictitious sentiment. If a young lady have brothers, let her conduct to the other sex be still more guarded than if she have not; and, betwixt lover and brother, let her not refer her little vexations from one to the other, but for ever look down that "point of honor" to which an honorable man finds it unnecessary to refer himself.

Some few persons are so situated that they suppose they are to have their own way, that is, to indulge in their own will, in despite of the convenience or the feelings of all the rest of the world. And this was the unfortunate case with Sarah. The train of circumstances seemed perfectly natural that led to this habit of acting; and they were so far natural, that each succeeding step was the consequence of a former one, after the first fatal error of letting her have her own way in opposition to reason and propriety. Hence the wisdom of the French adage, "C'est le premier pas qui conte;" that is, "The first step is every thing." Many a young companion looked on and deemed Sarah the happiest of their circle, in being allowed to do just as she pleased. But-but! the revulsion is as terrible as the shock. And a strong will indulged is as sure to hurt its owner most of all, as that it exists, and that its owner is most of all in fault. And this life, unless the life be suddenly cut short, commonly witnesses the reaction. The page of history abounds with this practical truism. The tyrant imposes, oppresses, and exceeds; but at last the aggressing principle of his own spirit is that by which is wrought out the woe, and the downfall, and the destruction of self! But this great principle of natural ethics is less and less observed as the circle narrows. In domestic life it is but little noticed; yet that, the nursery of all character, is, in its multitudinous instances, the most rife with its being. It is not as often that females, as those of the other sex, are the subjects of this sinister advantage. With men the collision of the world sooner wears off the points and prominences of the offense.

Poor Sarah! she was unfortunate in having no sisters to divide with and share her privileges. For some years she had been, as it were, sole in her home; and

(To be continued.)

WE submit to the society of those that can inform us, but we seek the society of those whom we can inform. And persons of genius ought not to be chagrined if they see themselves neglected. For when we communicate knowledge we are raised in our own estimation, but when we receive it, we are lowered. That, therefore, which has been observed of treason, may be said of talent, we love instruction, but hate the instruc. tor, and use the light, but abuse the lantern.

SKETCHES BY THE WAY.

215

Original.

SKETCHES BY THE WAY.

"FROM MY NOTE-BOOK."

MR. HAMLINE,-Every one almost who undertakes a journey of any distance now-a-days, must give to the world the result in the form of "incidents of travel," or “journal of a tour," or something of the kind. Now, although my aspirations after literary fame are not sufficient to induce me to follow the multitude, yet, to fulfill your request, it will be necessary to tread in the footsteps of illustrious predecessors, whose note-books have been drawn upon very extensively for the amusement and gratification of the public taste. In presenting, therefore, these SKETCHES BY THE WAY, I shall not confine myself to any particular subject, but relate such incidents as may be interesting in the order in which they occurred.

other, there is an unseen influence which draws them toward each other, although they may not be aware of each other's presence. It would seem that this is true with reference to Christians-at least on board our boat. They seem drawn unconsciously together, and soon find the way to each other's hearts. There may, however, be some reason for this in the present instance other than the one suggested; for the lower end of the cabin is occupied by a French opera company from New Orleans, most of whom cannot speak one word of English. How these Frenchmen love claret! and the women, too! They drink it for coffee in the morning, for water at dinner, for tea at supper, and for variety throughout the day! I have seen one man drink two ample glasses full for dinner! They seem as fond of cards as claret. The consequence is, we have card-playing and drinking all the time. Fortunately, they are consigned to the lower part of the cabin, and the social hall. But the card-playing is not confined to the cabin. The deck passengers, in imitation of their "superiors," are engaged in the same de||lightful and edifying amusement. One group of them are playing on the guards just below our state-room. One of the ladies, ever intent on doing good, has dropped some religious tracts in their midst, which some of the "lookers on" are reading with avidity. But the performers seem unmindful of it. What infatuation possesses the guilty sons of men! P. S. The card-play

On Monday morning, May 8, I left the Cincinnati wharf for Pittsburg. Those who have ever traveled on steamboats know something of the bustle and confusion which are the inseparable attendants of leaving such a port as Cincinnati. By dinner-time, however, every thing had settled down calmly, and I had some opportunity of making observations upon my fellow passengers. But before entering upon any description, I must introduce our worthy captain to your readers-a short, thick made man, with a fine, opening below was not resumed the next day. How much countenance, sparkling eye, and plenty of good humor good one Christian may do, especially a lady, whose playing around his lips, or beaming from his little black heart is in the cause of her Redeemer. Pious females eye. He is so business-like in his manner, and withal may often do that which men cannot. so accommodating and pleasing in his deportment, that I anticipate an agreeable time with him. But who is that elderly, sedate-looking gentleman with whom he stands talking? He is a clergyman, on his way to some ecclesiastical meeting in the east. His looks betray affliction; yes, he mourns the recent loss of the companion of his joys and sorrows. He does not murmur or repine, yet he feels deeply the chastening rod of his heavenly Father. That lady in black, to whom he has just gone to communicate some informa-hills sometimes to the height of fifty to sixty feet pertion, is a participator in his sorrows. The one mourns over the loss of a wife, the other a sister. How many are dressed in black! Another clergyman, also, on board is conveying his motherless daughter to her distant friends. What sad inroads in the domestic circle does Death make! Alas, thou destroyer, when wilt thou be satisfied?

To those who have traveled the route from Cincinnati to Pittsburg-and who has not?-any attempt to describe the country would be devoid almost entirely of interest. Nevertheless, I cannot refrain from making a few allusions to it occasionally.

A short distance above Gallipolis we entered upon the coal region. This is marked by the very bold character of the shore, and the immense piles of rock, apparently ferruginous sandstone, projecting out from the

pendicularly, and giving the shores, in many places, the appearance of great grandeur and sublimity. The coal here is found in small veins, running horizontally into the heart of the hills, and is excavated by digging horizontal shafts some five or six feet square, and using small rail-way cars, which penetrate to a great distance into the hills. These coal shafts, or "port-holes," present often times a very singular appearance from the river.

Passed Marietta about 10 o'clock, Tuesday evening. Could distinguish but little of the place. Perceived, however, that the inhabitants generally retire early. How the society of large cities become enervated by the practice of bad habits!

How happily situated we are! I find we have some five or six ministers on board, and quite a number of pious persons, both male and female. Almost every denomination of evangelical Christians has its representatives. How the spirit of Christianity unites individuals together! Here we are, strangers to one another, from different parts of the country, adhering to different creeds, and called by different names, and yet there is a In the afternoon we stopped a short time at Steubenunity of feeling which begets confidence and attach- ville. This is one of the most beautiful towns on the ment almost immediately. The orientals have an idea Ohio. Its chief attraction, however, consists in its litethat when two persons are mutually attached to each rary character. The Rev. C. C. Beattie's female sem

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inary is located here-an institution second to none in|| Gospel. This place is well situated for those who love the western country. The buildings of the seminary the Sabbath. It is strictly a religious place. They present a very imposing appearance to the traveler have enjoyed here a precious revival during the past ascending the river. They consist principally of a winter. About 100 have been added to the Presbytespacious central building with two large wings, and a rian Church, and a like number to the Methodist. The good chapel-like hall, used for recitation rooms, &c. subjects of this revival were principally heads of famiSituated as they are, upon a gentle rise, with a green lies, and what is remarkable a large majority were lawn and shade trees in front, they afford a prospect males. Two of our company preached here on the both beautiful and picturesque. Sabbath morning and evening, and all visited and addressed the Sabbath school in the afternoon.

Near Pittsburg the scenery, which upon the banks of the river is generally very bold, changes to that of extreme beauty. The various country residences, situated upon gentle undulations of land, and ornamented with shade and fruit trees of every description, and the grounds around them most tastefully laid out and decorated, present a fine object of study for the painter, and admiration to the lover of the beautiful.

a

But see! what a smoke! No wonder that the Iron City is called a city of smoke. It is so literally. Buildings all smoked up-every body's face smutty—no white handkerchiefs in the place but ours, and fear they will not be so by dinner-time-streets narrow, rough, and irregular, yet full of people noted for industry and enterprise. Yes, Pittsburg is dingy place; but one of the most important in the United States. She has been very truly called the Birmingham of the west. Few contain so much intelligence and morality as Pittsburg. No city of its size, probably, in the Union, presents such an orderly, quiet appearance, on the Sabbath as she does-I speak now of that part not immediately contiguous to the steamboat landing—and few are more noted for their intelligence, hospitality, and benevolence, than her inhabi

tants.

There are many objects of general interest to the traveler passing through Pittsburg. Among these are the glass-works, the bridges and aqueduct over the Monongahela and Alleghany rivers, the new courthouse, &c., &c. Our limits will not, however, permit us here to notice them more particularly.

The scenery between Pittsburg and Philadelphia, via Johnstown and Harrisburg, is one vast chain of beauty. The lover of nature and the beautiful may find all that the imagination could conceive or the heart desire between these two points. There is the wild and romantic, the beautiful bordering on the sublime, and the mild and quiet beauty-towering and rocky mountains, and green and gentle undulationssome of these presenting the appearance of a map with green fields, and a proper proportion of ploughed | grounds-trees of different colored foliage, from the light maple to the dark cedar and pine-the whole dotted with houses, and relieved by gentle hills rising in the distance, and covered with a still greater variety of scenery. The valleys through which the Conamaugh and Juniata rivers flow may well defy the world to produce scenery more picturesque and beautiful.

We spent the Sabbath at Huntingdon, a small place on the canal, about thirty-eight miles from the foot of the mountains on the eastern side. Our company consisted of eleven, four of whom were preachers of the

For some notices of the "City of Brotherly Love," and its institutions, I must defer yourself and readers until some other opportunity, as my sheet is full. Yours, &c., G. W.

Original.
TRUTH.

WHAT is truth? It is an emanation from God, more light from the all-seeing Eye that pervades whatever pure, more holy, than any earthly attribute-a ray of would be hidden. Are your deeds dark and your professions fair? One touch of this power, like Ithuriel's spear, will show them in their native deformity. Art and all the united agents of evil vanish at this touch. Truth, all glowing and radiant, shrinks not herself from investigation, but looks with a steady eye and bosom bare on the concentrated rays of the noon-day sun which can neither dazzle or discover aught in her which the Deity does not pronounce "good." Well may she be personified as an angel; for what earthly is so fair? She is arrayed in robes as dazzlingly white as were those of our Savior at the transfiguration-her eye the eagle-her emblem the dove-her motto Justice-her attendants are the Virtues and the Graces— and her occupation to confound the powers of evil-to raise the oppressed-to be the vicegerent of God upon carth.

Original.
WASHINGTON.

BY JOHN T. BRAME.

-

UNROLL the scroll of history, and mark

H.

The mighty and the noble ones whose claim
To fadeless laurels and immortal fame
Lives on her pictured page-the bright, the dark,
The hated, and the loved! The taper's spark

Their glory is; but thine, O WASHINGTON,
The dazzling brilliance of the full-orbed sun!
Time's swelling billows ne'er can wreck the bark

That bears the burden of thine honors down
To distant ages; while the still, cold ground,
Doth keep thy holy dust-thy mortal part-

Death cannot rob thee of thy peerless crown,
And at thy fame can hurl no fatal dart,
Thou first in war and peace, and in thy country's heart!

Original.

LINES TO MY SISTER.

LINES TO MY SISTER.

My heart is with thee ever! when evening cometh down, And putteth on her twilight robe, and wears her starry

crown

While sitting 'neath the eglantine that climbs the cot

tage eaves,

The woodlark chants her gentle song, and stirs the darkling leaves,

I think of thee, and wonder if the flowers where thou

art now

Are springing up beneath thy feet, or waving o'er thy brow!

My heart is with thee ever! when breaks the glorious morn,

And nature cometh from her rest, as if but newly born, All crown'd with sweetly scented flowers, and dress'd in May day sheen,

Prepared to reign till evening comes a truly radiant

queen;

Then, as I ask for heavenly grace to keep me thro' the day,

I beg for light to shine on thee-upon thy weary way!

My heart is ever with thee! and when our little band Is gather'd on the Sabbath day, and hand is press'd in hand,

We miss thee from thy steady place; and as we raise our hymn,

And ask for blessings on thy head, our eyes with tears grow dim

We wish that every Sabbath day may be to thee a rest From all the weary cares of life by which thou art oppress'd!

My heart is with thee ever! but thoughts come up to-day Of times ere we began to try, alone, the world's high

way;

For life has been the same to each-for each has tried alone

The boasted friendship of the world, and found it lov'd its own

Its own-the selfish and the proud, who teach their lips to praise

The very things their hearts condemn, when lit by truth's bright rays;

But that is nought-let us hold fast the grace already given,

And when our exile here expires, we'll meet again in heaven! S. J. HOWE.

MORTALITY.

Au! who can say the tear was vain
That erewhile dimm'd the Persian's eye?
Couldst thou the feeling drop restrain?

He wept that all who liv'd must die.

Yes; all who grac'd the tented shore, And all who dar'd the foemen brave, VOL. III.-28

Must sleep, alas! to wake no more
Within the lowly, lonely grave.

The many-gleaming dew of morn
Falls twinkling from the pearly spray,
Nor long survives the tepid dawn

Of him who rules the sultry day.

The fervid spark of pleasing youth

That gilds with joy life's wasting fire, Repeats the melancholy truth— It blushes only to expire!

The rosy hue of jocund health

Is fickle as the winter's sun
That rises, darkens, shines by stealth,

And sinks ere half his race be run.
The noble soul, the generous heart,

Where dwells the kindred glow of love, May part to meet-must meet to part, Till wafted to the realms above.

Nor can the tinge of 'witching bloom

That smiles on beauty's vernal cheek, Again the sullen eye relume,

Again the spell that holds it break.

Nor can Golconda's valued gems

E'er purchase back the breath that's fled, Nor genial virtue's fairest beams

Re-animate the listless dead!

And even now some moldering form

Commingles with its native dust; Some vital stream that late was warm Proclaims the Persian's tear-drop just.

217

HEART-FELT THOUGHTS. JUST as the body must endure its pain, Which pierces, tortures, and returns again; So every heart must bear its sorrows keen, Sigh without notice, and oft throb between: So every bosom, when contentment leaves, Must bear the burdens which deep sorrow weaves. Unknown to all, the heart must feel its stings, While every moment added torture brings; It knows, alas! it knows alone the pain, Which feels to flow through every rended vein: The rays of pity may their influence shed, Refulgent shine, and all their kindness spread; Tears may roll down the deeply furrow'd cheek, Wishing to give that sweet relief it seeks; The heart may pity to the last degree, And sweet compassion sparkle pure and free; The glow of friendship may impart its spell, Give charms and pleasures which no tongue can tell; Diffuse its radiance o'er the grief-torn breast, That radiance which gives life itself a zest : But all's in vain-the troubled heart remains

A victim still to deeper-piercing pains!

218

CIAN.

THE METAPHYSICIAN.

Original.

THE METAPHYSICIAN.*

BY THE EDITOR.

THE sermon being closed, the mourners were called, and a great multitude came forward again for prayer. The presiding elder, "father S.," turned to Mr. L., and said, Come, my friend, go with me to that vacant place at the altar, and let us kneel together before God."

L. "Excuse me, Mr. S.; I am a hardened sinner, and dare not approach a place so sacred while my heart is unmoved."

S. "That, sir, is Satan's device. He would rob you of God's pardoning mercy. If your heart is hard, you should go to the altar to get it softened. The more obdurate it is, the more you need the prayers of God's people, and the more prompt you should be to assume the attitude in which you may enjoy them."

L. "Surely, Mr. S., you would not have me assume the posture without the spirit of mourning."

L. "Indeed, sir, to tell the truth, I know not what I shall do. But I confess that I am all wrong, or these people are not right. I cannot, however, go with you to the altar-I am selfish, and my nature seems worse than common natures. If I wish for religion it is merely as a step to heaven-mark that-as a mere step to heaven. I have no love for religion's self. I want not its purity, but its peace-not its sore travail of duties and self-denials, but its escape from the mælstroom of perdition to the beatific rest."

How common is this error on the part of the converted as well as the unconverted. It is cardinal in some systems of theology. Is not religion a unit? Ought we, as Solomon the woman's child, to divide and then embrace it? Should we crave a part and not all? Must we, sinners, attain a benevolence so refined that we shall covet merely conflicts and crosses, and have no regard to crowns? Surely it is not damning to "have respect unto the recompense of reward." Moses was commended for the wisdom of a choice induced by this very motive. Was the apostle heretical in the

S. "Surely I would if you cannot otherwise assume commendation? Even the immaculate Jesus endured it. Do you not wish to mourn?"

L. "I suppose not, or I should mourn."

the cross for "the joy that was set before him"-an example which is urged on our diligent imitation.

S. “And do you always, then, feel as you wish to As to Mr. L.'s proposition, that "every man has as feel?"

L. "In religion I suppose I do. That is the view I have taken of religion when skepticism has not prevailed over belief. I have heard it said that every man has just as much religion as he desires.' Is it not

true?"

S. "No, sir. The habitual state of a devout heart is that of desire; and one of the most conclusive indirect evidences of a gracious state, is a thirsting after God and his salvation."

much religion as he desires," in one sense it is true. Such desire is itself a religious affection, produced by the Holy Spirit. It follows that, metaphysically, a man has as much religion—that is, in this form-as he has religious desire. But it is not true that other religious affections, as faith, love, meekness, peace, and joy, are equal to a pious man's desires for those graces. Mr. L. did not perceive that the very words he repeated, "they that hunger and thirst shall be filled," imply craving or desire as a condition of the promised beati

L. "But if God does not satisfy holy desires is he tude. He forgot the publican, too, who certainly had not tyrannical, and a violater of his promise?"

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not all the religion he desired when he cried, "God be merciful to me a sinner!" He should have reflected

L. "He that hungers and thirsts after righteousness that prayer itself is chiefly an expression of desire, and shall be filled.'" that if we have all the religion we crave there can be no occasion to supplicate.

S. "Mr. L., excuse me to-day from all doctrinal and metaphysical discussions. I urge upon you a simple effort to seek religion, assuring you, from God, they that seek shall find.' My duty toward you now lies in a narrow compass. Will you go with me and kneel down at the altar?"

Mr. L. did not approach the altar. He remained at the meeting until its close; and his mind grew more and more perplexed. His rest was broken, and he seemed care-worn. To all who knew him there were in his countenance unequivocal tokens of deep inward L. "I repeat, sir, that to do it would be hypocrisy. disquiet. When he returned, his wife met him at the Sinful as I am, I should fear to desecrate that altar by door; but her eye no sooner fell upon his features, as approaching it without tempers befitting such a posture. she was advancing with great cordiality to welcome I have no just conceptions of my depravity, no proper him, than she uttered an exclamation of concern, and desires for renovation, and to do what would indicate said, "Husband, what ails you? Surely, you have such desires, would be adding deceit to insensibility." been sick." On his assuring her that he was well, she S. "What do you mean by proper desires for reno-exchanged her look of alarm for an expression of huvation?" mor, and said, "Then you must have got the power?"

L. "I mean a desire for renovation for its own sake, The reply was embarrassed and in a manner so serious not for its resulting benefits."

that both soon fell into a grave and silent frame, attend

S. "Will you never seek religion until you can do ed with reflections on the part of Mrs. L. which were it without regard to its benefits?"

*Continued from page 133.

probably more or less connected with the religious habits of her after life. She now rests in the bosom of her Father and our Father-of her God and our God!

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