VOLIJAIE 19, tielect Poetry, anb Miscellany. nxer. ,I DI "r, uecuANAN BEAD NV ho are ye who Nit and murmur O'er your grievance fiord and long! Who are ye u hose necks are trodden By the iron foot of wrong? Wear yo not God's mighty image? Rise! assert it, mid he strong! - Can ye see your wives and children Under old oppressions cower, And not feel yolir right arms aching With thefullness of their power? Rise! a life of idle groaning Is not worth'one well-n rought hour! Able-bodied, idle-minded? DO you weep beneath your pain? Or, with empty ettut of ,Freedom„ > Do ye stagger with your ehai ilear'ye not Your weaker brother? Riot or Wt•P r- the ettrat of.Caitt! Will ye it in dust and ashes, Gazing. on the proud and great? Kuaw :sou not that soul and sinew ,!11 achieve their own estate? Rise! to action—or in garret. Dre•aut, and o ti. rve your fate! Are ye FR men—ncemen r d) I 110 Ne act n froomea do? An , dour reel r,. not t oter Ivader.,7 Arc many, ate on few! Itn.e! a ith iturpo:o: flint, and n.ach tloqn They 'most finq by ruled by Into you belong , the V("( Ana Ow freedom of the ~a ; Will 3on hear your rvapu, dictate NV hut hor fry ight or la n o :1)011 he! lii-e! anil hurl tl u err over, the he-t of tva! NOI3ILIT Orlljc I= i- 4111' 1.711:1,1 4111'1/Wll lan that r'••r 1:,111 Well, %%ell, own anti,-Lxvlll not argue the with you; as an Auivr.eau you are right in It such a belief; int you ritti , t we to tkat there is something not to be dispised in a and honorable de-cent. I cannot but belie the descendants of tho.e who for generation beck! ennobled by lofty deeds of high enterpri be more likely to perform tnagmanimoui actio the son of a !mumble ptebian:' "You agree with rid, llenri; differ in tering. I assert that the childredolla fam ily which can look back' with homiest pride to deeds of integrity' and uprightness, of virtue and'h arc. the true scions of nobility: lei-their paten the signet of an Altnip_ny hand." :"Then the Fntt of an honest blacksmith of l he as proud of his birth as the heir of a rend or a rOtle; is that votir opinion?" ~o tilething very like it, I confess, nenr % as the origin_of the nobles of the old .cot It pine and violchee'gave them their heritage lans, \ nduleseivilesuLoni4sion to a monarch, or per baps treachery to his enemy was, often the price paid fur their sounding llad _they ben en- nobled for tbeir- virtue, Henri, rind had the3 l trans mitted these; together ‘vith their proud names, !Jiro' succeeding generations, then well might. their; de- . EC ellaillitB have glo?ied in their birth; but strely you need not be reminded of the black, catalogue of crime which cuhfrit be appended to every gerralogi cal chart in 'merrie England,' no less than in your 4 .Trande 1131,i )II?' "I won't quarrel wltlCyou about it, Fran but I ELall never become a Convert to your doctribe; per haps I am too, deeply infected with such prejudices, but they were a part of ray lawful heritage." know . it, llenri, the blood of one of the noblest families of France rulis in your veins,' and the only wonder is, that under such circumstances you should possess such tree nobility." I °What do you mean?" "I am surprised that you did not follow :tile ex ample'of most Branches of a noble stock: and make the fame of your ancestors a licensOor your own wort hlessness "Frank, you are incorrigible," said Henri, laugh ing; "according to your creed I ought to rank you, mho possess so many estimable qualities, among the lowest of the low:" "Place me in what station you choose, Henri, so long as you find no cause for despising me. But you rui,take ino: I do not think nobility olsOul in coMpatilde with nobility of birth: I only :tiettn to as-sert that heroic deedsare more frequently ;.erforin cl by men in a lowly than in an exalted station, for the latter have an inheritance of fcitne, anil are, too often content to use it to its last grain, wi l j thout add ing aqthing to it for the next generation ." "I should like to see your father, Prank." "You shall be gratified if you choose to :accom pany me home in the spring; but, in what station do you expect to find him!" "If i must judge by jour theory, I should say he is some bumble artisan, but I know better Unlit to believe such a thing; I suppose be is one of the aris- tocracy of your republican country living in the most independent of all modes, as a gentleman farmer, and I should not be surprised if he had carefully preserved ti box of old papers, which enabled him to trace his descent from some English yeoman of the time of tine eighth Harry." "You never were more mistaken in your life." don't tell MC anything about 'IMO mean to go and see for myserf, but no one shall persuade me that you could derive from lany mean parentage the chivalrous sentiments which led you to save my life at the risk of your own." "Pshaw, i with you would not think so much of a trifling service." 'You may untlerrae your disinterestedness as much as you please, but if any onelAise were to tell tyre that the man who bound his own life preserver on a sick stranger, when the black waters were yawning to devour him, had performed only a tri lling service, I think he would find a little of the pirit of my ancestors in my reply." The speakers who thus discussed points of honor while they - 1 ulTed the fragrant smoke from 'their `ilsbanar," were Henri de Valence, a young We.t." , , -,• Y, 7 - t l i - : - F.::: i. 7- 7, -- : , ,,T. r, , , -,,, , si -,. `7, . _ . - . • . .._ - :t ...... ' it.'; ‘.(:,..`. L • ... '2I - - I.! •.',,..?..., .T..., ./. ' it!:. . . .i..:,7 , _ - - _..... . . tie: ..,7. • • - 1..0r - ... 4'( ''..''. ' C Z 17-4 ..,... I i' t.ts. ' :‘:. -;ri • `,( .1 i ,:-;,,: .4t i • ...N., 'Si .- , :,-f''' !,t, . • . 1.,"; •- , (.., .•• - ",,i Ti' S:-. , . Ik., '. 6 ',',J ..'..." '....i. 1 .,: . '': S ' :11. .'". . ,•-•• . . i. _ . '. l . , r i . , V . • 4. ,,• - . 17. • . 7 '?.. - :, . .7. tv .‘,..1 . .i. ! , . • .. . , ~-... ...... :.2 . :fs : -....-; I ::.'• ' .t - . . . . 4 i , , i.... 4 .14i . . -,' ' ..ts . . •••''' :, • ~ e . ..: -i: ;, I 4.32 ....,:. '.l:- . • . . , 71" •!.:1 , . • 1 % , '..:::. 1 , • . - - . ~ -, • • . . „._..........._,_ _ . , . . ..... . . _____ pint Ming MB neient r. tly. lin4e MEM ME MEM t bea rs =I ontme- ; what Ra i broad Indian of large fortune, and his friend Frank Wes ton, who had left his native village to seek wealth in New Orleans, that Eldorado of all who can resist musrmetoes and yellow fever. They had mq, as strangers on board a Mississippi steamer, !where Henri was suffering from the feebleness -attendant .upon a long illness, Before they reached their port of destination, the boat was snagged, and the pas sengers were in the most imminent danger, when Frank, seeing theptillul stranger at his side,,quiet ly took offs his life-preserver, saying, "I am strong and can swim, but you are utterly helpless, take this and save yourself." The opportune' arrival of a steamer rescued them, after an exposure_of some hours to the most imminent danger, but llenri never forgot the heroic act of hisinew friend. With the warm-heartedness of his age and clime, he attach ed himself•closely to Frank, and even resolved to accompany him to his native home, rather than part • with him fur a whole season. • The first spring buds Were unfolding their .soft green to the warm gales, when the filiends set out ow their northern journey. Henri was charmed With everything he saw in nature, though strongly dispos ed to find amusement in some very Wailral trails of individual .character. The bold and magnificent scenery of our .beitet iful land excited his-enilinsias tic -admiration, while his prejudices were sadly shocked_ at_ t iome occasional glimpses of American life. By the. time he afrivud ai New York, he was more deeply confirmed in his idetts of the advantage of high birth, and as he contrasted the quiet gen tlemanly deportment of Frank. with the coarse tiers of sonic of their travelling cOinpanions, be could not help congratulating himself on having found a ft iend among the better class of our plebian It. was /ate in the afternoon ()bone of those balmy days which make .lane delightful a mouth in Atnerica,"when the tra',ellers approached the spot where Frank _Weston was born and bred. -As the • proceedeit slou, ly along a road cut in a side of a mountai u, - ticey looked down.upon the village, lying at the foot of a decli% ity, and nothing could be more beautiful than the view. The neat. snc w -white cottages were clustered together in a beautiful val ley, through which ran a clear and - rapid stream, spanned by a rustic bridge. Large clots, those most beautiful of all forest trees, were seen, Fuld (hug the inequalities of the ground in positi ons th at ,:eetned chosen for their picturesque beanie; and, as the heauts of the setting-sun shone asiant between their broad stems, gilding the surface of the little river, and reflecting in gorgeous hues from the case merits of the pretty cottap , „es,`llenri. thought he had never seen so loved' a spot. i "you l%ill,liiid my native home rather a humble hbode, Henri," said Frank, as he aPproached it.— ' Henri did certainly look a little surprised when he found Frank's father occupying a house not h white superior to his neighbors, a low-browed cottage, with plenty of room on the ground floor, but posses sing no•claim either to stateliness or gentility. To be sure it wt§ neat as woman's skill could make it. Carpets of home manufacture covered the llourtables of cherry wood, polished so as to rivhl mahogany, supplied the place of more costly furniture; chairs ev ident the handicraft or;:otne vii lege mechanic, ollbred no promise of luxurious ease; and the row of shining brass eandlestick4 which decorated the rude chim ney-piece, were certainly .better calculated to excite ideas of utility than of beauty. But Henri sor n for got these things -in the pleasure which he de rived from the warm and hearty welcome with which - he was greeted. The family consisted only of Mr. Weston and his daughter. And the young stranger knew not whether to be most charmed with the frank and courteous manners of the old man, or. the fresh and - glowing beauty of his friend's sister. Lucy Weston was• a true,Amercian beauty; not one of those fragile delicate creatures to be seen. in gossamer robes and -silken slippers, treading the muddy streets of our great cities,-and awakening by Ithe very_character of their loveliness, the painful remembranctof decay. She had a clear complexion, a deep yet cool color upon her cheek, a mouth, per- I haps rather too large fur regular beauty, but full of bxpr'ession, eyes blue as the sky in spring, and arch ed by brows iif the darket Chestnti l t, hair of that rich golden brown which is rarely seen in perfection among the unmixed Saxon race', a form slender and graceful, yet- developed into perfect symmetry by healthful exercise, and all these' characteristic to - American loveliness. Remember,. gentle reader, I am desdribing the native charms of a village beau ty. Lucy Weston had not been immured in the impure atmosphere of a heated nursery during her infancy; ,shebad not spent the ten best years of her life amid ., the restraints of a boarding • school,—she had not been taught that a game of romps was a very "ungenteci thing," and that "little Indies should never move faster' than a walk." She had sported and played, and enjoyed a thorough drilling in that physical education which is now neglected. The merry little hoyden had acquired the rich treasure of health, while she was only pursueing the bent of j her, childish nature, and when she did apply herself jto mental labor, she brought to her duties a robust 1 fraMe and perceptions quickened by - daily use.— S'oadH L , to say, Lucy would pot lihve figured to much advantage,at a soiree, or even at a ball. She was 1 indebted to the village singing master for her little knowled t fe of music, and though she occupied a distinguisOd place in the church choir, she would scarcely hale been able to join us in an Italian duct: And-as to tier dancing—it was lady-like, for he could do nothing that was not so,, but certainly her teacher had added few "foreign airs" to her "native graces." She wati very deficient in the requisites for obtaining.distinction in fashionable life; but then she possessed no small share of useful accomplish-, mc nts . She made the whiteskbread and the sweet est butter that ever graced a ,breakfast table—her puddings and pies were delichine—her skill in darn ing and mending, that mots necessary talent of ' "making auld clothes tuik 'moist as well as new," ' was unrivalled=she was the neatest - and quickest of sempstresses,(no small accomplishment, let me tell you, my fair reader)—and to crown all, Lucy was one of the Most systematic of housekeepers.— There was no noise, , no bustle in the liouse; every ' thing_ seemed to be done as if by - tuagic. Rooms ' were "put to rights,"—the semi-weekly baking was ' accomplished—daily churning was done, even the weekly washing, that most dreaded of all days to ' slovenly housewive, wits quietly finished, without any One being made acquainted with thd precise time %%lien ail these tasks were in proon,..§;_und LVI) NV7 AR D.,, , E3 r r..\• ; SATURDAY MORNING,MAY 20, IMB. when Lucy took her seat at the mid-day dinner, at tired in a - neatly fitting dress, with her beautiful hair smoothly folded over her placid brow, no one would have dreamed that she had been the principal ,actor in the busy scenes of their - rustic life, and that the profusion of healthful viands which loaded the well arranged table, owed their rich gusto to hel culinary skill. Are you shocked, friend reader, that a heroine should know how to cook a dinner? I ,know it Lis contrary to all established rules, for — the suffering damsels of the Minerva press never even condescend to eat or drink, through three thick volumes of dis'- iressful adventure. They May sometimes "snatch a morsel of refreshment," or "sip sortie wine from a richly_chased antique goblet," but to eat a vulgar dinner, would be destrdctive of all heroic and senti mental ideas. The heroines of those times were superior to the common wants of humanity; their immaculate white dresses neve r became soiled, - even if they were plunged in the most. loathsome of dun geons, their tresses never hung in other than -rich ringlets, even if they were iist snatched from a watery grave, and their appetites never led them to commit such an outrage upon delicatAensibility as to eat a really good dinner. To those who are dis posed to be * pained by, the unrefined habits of my friend Lucy, I can only say in the words of Boccac cio, "ii you do n'ot like my story, turn to another page." lam painting life as it is, and, believe me, actual life with all its chances . and changes, ore ! -sents many a picture more deserving of the artist's pencil than any thing which exists only in the dreams of the fancy. I I:lenri de Valence was eli . armed with both fattier and daughter. Mr. Weston was a man of remark ably prepossessing appearance. Upwards of six feet high, finely proportionk and of almost Her culean strengtlyhe preSe T oted a fine study for a painter as he sat, in the pOrch at eventide, his vest open to the ,breeze, and' his long grey locks floating upou'his shoulders.. his broad, full brow, his deep blue eyes, his eMbrowned but ruddy com plexidn, seemed to form;] the very perfection of healthful and vigorous and happy age. Mr. West on had rarely quitted his native village, but he was a diligent reader o . jg,ood books, a close observer of manners and above till, a profound and accurate thinker. Ilis,emarks were - distinguished for their originality and acuteness, and one could not help believing, while listening to Iris simple but ener,get ic language, that the fate which had destined' him to a peaceful obscurity, had deprived philosophy of a noble votary. Ilenri's excitable and enthusiastic temper, all'orded a striking contrast to the calm and grace tune of the old man's Mind, and as'it frequent ly happens in such cases, they were mutudly pleased with each ther. Mr. Weston liked Henri's frank de- I rma kich ness and worm-Iseartednesq, while Henri was lighted with the-cordial killidness,the strung sense, and the deep insight ipto huinan nature wb he found in the father of his friend. In the meantime Frank Weston seemed to el everything. He was glad to• be once more home,' he was pleaseq with the respect with W 144 1 / 4 fat her had inspird Henri, because he had ranged a little plot n jaint,t his friend's prejud when he hoped to bring, to tx aucco<