BY JAS. CLARK,
A SI ONG.
ur RICHARD UOWITT.
Thon art lovelier than the coming
Of the fairest flowers of spring,
When the wild bee wanders humming,
• Like a blessed fairy thing :
Thou art lovelier than the breaking
Of the orient criinson'd morn
When the gentle winds are shaking
The dew-drops from the thorn.
I have seen the wild flowers springing
In wood, and field, and glen,
Where a thousand birds were singing,
And my thoughts were of thee then,
For there's nothing gladsome round me,
Nothing beautiful to see,
since thy beauty's spell has bound me,
But is eloquent of thee.
THE BRIDE OF AN 110 UH.
BY W. C. HOLDEN.
It was a bright and beauteons morn•
ing of a balmy May-day, and the heavy
dew of the previous night hung in &it.
tering drops adown the bended tips of
the waving grass and dallied sportive
ly among the petals of the garden flow
ers and shook itself from the branches
of tiny fruit trees, whose incipient buds
foretold nn abundance of harvest, and
then with a finale, wherein were blen
ded much of nature and little of art,
ascended almost imperceptibly toward
heaven as noiselessly as do the spirits
of tho'e made perfect by the Eternal.
From amid the scented blossoms of the
orchard trees sang, in most delicious
harmony, the robin and wren, their lit
tle voices mingling in most perfect uni
son, while the neighboring oaks and
maples bore upon their spreading bran
ches whole troupes of feathered choris
ters, whose notes of melody were borne
to the ear upon the gentle breeze in
most acceptable profusion. The face
of nature looked happy and gay as the
first dawnings of an impulsive love, and
smiled as joyously in the pleasant land
scape which bloomed around ns does
the face of artless beauty when met by
the tender glances of manly admiration.
It was indeed a bright and lovely morn
ing, and he who could look abroad with
out emotion upon the green fields and
glorious lavishment of Nature's beau
ties which everywhere met the eye,
could never hope to appreciate aught of
good or beautiful in God's handiwork.
A fit morning was this for a consum
mation of happiness upon the hearts of
two of Earth's creatures. An opening
prospect and promise of joy which seem
ed to predict nn infinity of earthly pleas
ure to their loving natures. As upon
the celestial horizon was discerned no
dusky outline of a cloud to mar the ,
brilliancy of the sunlight which gleam-,
ed supreine, so upon the broad expanse
of futurity which promisingly unfolded
its hopes to view were written no doubt
ing fears, no prophetic words of warn
ing to chill their youthful hearts. Lov
ingly, trustingly, sincerely, confident
in each other's promises, and reciprocal
in deepest affection, two hearts, mis-!
trusting their powers of endurance in
the midst of life trials, if alone and un-1
supported, now went forth in the
strength and purity of innocence and
love to join their hopes and aspirations
at God's altar, where, in the shadow of,
the holy sanctuary, they might invoke
from Him a blessing to cheer them on.
And who that acknowledges the impres
sive truths of heavenly encouragement,
of celestial rewards and punishments,
us well as terrestrial pains and penal
ties, could doubt that their prayers and
supplications went up effectually to the
throne of Grace.
Rosa Gay had long been the pride
of the village" of Cosworth, and the
universal favorite of nil who knew her.
Possessing beauty without arrogance,
dignity without pride, modesty without
affectation, and intellectuality without
pedantry, she imperceptibly won the
hearts of all the villagers and sportively
wielded her powers of fascination alike
over old and young. To the former she
was all deference and respect, listening
to and profiting by the admonitions of
aged matrons with their querulous rea
soning and faulty logic ; to the latter
attentive, kind and considerate. Ad
vancing no opinions of her own without
a certainty of their correctness, she in
sensibly gained upon the affections and
confidence of her mates, and when but
a child was endowed by the popular
voice with the qualities and acuteness
of a woman. This general adulation,
this perpetual worshipping at the shrine
of her superior genius did not warp and
contract the better qualities of her
heart ; on the contrary, she, who was
bowed down to as embodied inspiration,
strove to deserve and retain the respect
and love of her admirers, and sustain
herself upon the throne her superior
mind had erected, And guided only by
her intuitive perception of the beauties
of right, she for years held undisputed
away over the affections of the people,
never by act or word forfeiting any por
tion of their esteem.
Nom Gay was, at the period of my
6 --r
-1
6 11-it4o,b Ott • ,
tr ,
'. il ll I
t ftlp
ji:J114r1i)17)1(147/E:
Writing, upon the threshold of woman
hood. She had left behind her the dan
gerous bars and quicksands which en-
compass '• sweet sixteen ;" had in safety
passed the rubicon of smiling seven
teen, before whose barriers so many fall
exhausted to the earth, and was now
fairly embarked upon the smooth waters
and easy pilotnge of eligible eighteen.
That admiration of her childish supe
riority, which had so universally been
entertained in the breasts of all, was
now in many transformed into the more
susceptible ardor of love, while those
who once looked upon the girl as a play
mate were now impelled to solicit from
the woman her companionship in perpe
tuity. Boys who were her fellows in
primitive scholarship were now suitors
for her hand and besought from her
lips a sentiment reciprocating their
own.
O love! Strange and incomprehensi
ble passion of the heart ! Conceived in
the breast of the prattling child as a
mere infantile dalliance with evanescent
toys, it is nurtured and strengthened in
the bosom of the playful boy into a pal.
gable preference, a demonstration of
sympathetic attraction toward one and
one alone, and, progressing onward, in
the scholastic youth is converted into
the modest, downcast, deferential air
which would assume the possession of
a revivified pulse half doubtingly, and
bursts forth upon the man in the broad
and expansive, the beautiful and inex
plicable splendor which dawns upon the
soul only beneath the magical illumina
tion which pervades the senses and
dazzles the reason with most unexpres
sible beauty and strength. An impulse
without an aim, a conception though
not a perception, an attribute of the
mind and yet the slave of the body, it
embraces within itself those contradic
tory emotions of the soul, which are
understood only by those who acknowl
edge their experience. An insoluble
sphinx whose passionate capacity is
measured only by impulsive natures, it
stands among the other passions of the
heart, in majestic solitude, towering
above them all in that perfection of in
tensity which stamps an emotion of the
real with the sublimity of the ideal, and
seemingly expands into a power of vital
ity when aroused in a susceptible na•
cure. At times as enthusiastic in ardor
as energetic in action, it is yet suscep
tible of guidance by the feminine voice
whose accent enraptures the whole
frame, and is As fragile and delicate in
utterance, when accompanied by the
sweet melody which started it into life,
as the wind harp which murmured its
cadences in the cottage window. While
living it sublimes mere affection to the
most poetical inspiration of the heart,
and when dead is consigned to the grave
as a flower, the recollection of whose
fragrance is left behind in the holy keep
ing of kindred natures, who will cher
ish its sweetness as a relic of the glori
ous past—a remembrance of the least
gross among the natural passions.
And this wonderous love had long
been burning for Rosa Gay in the bosom
of her early companion and much loved
friend, Mark Henley. Reversing the
common application of the maxim, "the
course of true love did never run
smooth," nothing had ever occurred to
mar the bliss which accompanied their
pledges of mutual affection, nothing had
thwarted their plans or deranged their
intentions. Their history had nought ;
of romance, no traditions of castellated
walls and unfeeling guardians, "but
o'er the spirit of their dream" flitted
uninterrupted pleasure whose promises
were as lasting ns life itself. And now
on this delicious morning of May, when
all nature seemed smiling sweetly upon
the broad fields and pleasant pastures
of the earth, the consummation of all
the joy they had anticipated was at
hand.
The venerable old church, with its
antiquated porch and corroded archi
traves, which, like the sword of Dion
ysius, seemingly hung upon a mere
thread, were now beautified by foliage
stripped from the forest trees, and glow
ed in all the freshness of cooling leaves
and vines. From every window of the
immense pile depended festoons of
bright flowers and blossoming branches,
hung in garlands of exceeding graceful
ness to please the eye. Over the main
entrance was en immense wreath of wild
flowers, which had but the previous day
bloomed in the neighboring fields, and
the whole air was redolent of the most
delicious fragrance--Nature's own per
fume. The altar was crowned with flow
ers, so tastefully arranged that religion
almost seemed to hell her seat in the
midst of a delightful garden, and the
very galleries were decorated with that
coarser foliage whose charms are man
ifest " when distance lends enchant
ment to the view." The church indeed
resembled one of the fairy palaces of
our childhood, whose sudden transfer
HUNTINGDON, PA.; TUiSDAY, JUNE 12, 1849.
!nation into a New England sanctuary
had seemingly but slightly imbued it
with the tastes of modern costuming,
and had one of those übiquitous incon.
sistencies, entitled fairies ,
bestowed a
jassing glance upon the hymenial re
oicings, the dream of another era would
have been complete.
And the deep toned bell of the weath
er beaten steeple now commenced peal
ing forth a joyous clamor, and loud and
clear over the cultivated fields rang the
triumphal march in honor of the young
favorites. Fair maids, clad in purest
white, their glossy ringlets floating over
their snowy necks, were hurrying to
ward the portals of the church, while,
from every road and path, young men
and old were pouring in hot haste to
join in the festivities. Sedate old farm
horses, whose labors had heretofore
been confined to the duties of the Sab
bath, were now rejuvenated, and, im
bued with the gladsome spirit of the
day, performed prodigies of strength
and celerity. Children, whose holidays
had previously been the mere legitimate
responses of enthusiastic patriotism,
were gleefully enjoying the grateful air
of the morning, and everything of life
was moving onward to its gonl.
Soon all eyes were strained eagerly
toward the extremity of the village, and
merry faces were portruded from adja
cent windows by curious watchers.—
Their anxiety was soon relieved for in
the distance wns discerned it seeming
speck, which nearer approach resolved
into a carriage. Upon the seat, with
arms composedly folded upon his breast,
and no air of impatience visible on his
countenance, sat the bridegroom elect,
the fortunate choice of the pride of the
village. To the cheers and congratula
tions of the friends who lined his path
he courteously bowed his head in token
of gratitude, but till he reached the
church spoke not a word, And then,
approaching from another rond in a car•
riage drawn by two milk White horses,
adorned with wreaths and boquets in
abundance, came the blooming bride.—
She en r r ied in her hand a single rose,
fresh-plucked from the tine, and her
bosom and brow were adorned with
jewels gathered from the same thorny
bush, No diamonds sparkled upon her
robe, but her cheek was tinted with the
blush of nature, and her eye sparkled
as brightly as the evening star. The
Graces had seemingly lent her their
powers of fascination for the hour, mid
happily did she wear them,
And then the friends and neighbors
of the joyous party hurried through
the portals and joined the congregated
citizens in the church. A smile was on
every lip, a pleasant glance beamed
from every eye, and naught but mirth
and hilarity seemed destined to a con
secration that day. Young children
laughed and clapped their hands with
glee at the demonstrations of pleasure
around; young maidens whispered to
each other of the blooming bride in pa
renthetical congratulations ; while child
ish old men and decrepit females cried
aloud, as the bride elect passed up the
aisle, " God bless her ! Amen !" Even
the venerable priest, whose vocation had
inculcated a certain dignity of demean
or when in the exercise of his duties,
joined in the harmony of half suppres
sed pleasure, and proceeded in his hy
menial task with more of fervor than
his parishioners had ever seen before.
And when the fair young creature had
promised in the sight of God, and be
neath the shadow of his sacred altar, to
assume cheerfully the obligatory duties
of a wife, and consecrate her lifetime of
love to one and one alone, when the hus
band's responsive declaration of undy
ing attachment and eternal affection
was recorded forever upon the hearts of
the assembled multitude, there arose
from the lips of all such an enthusiastic
burst of popular approval as echoed like
the booming of cannon through every
niche of the mighty edifice. The ten
der of mutual love and fidelity had re
ceived the stamp of friendly sanction,
and what hod the young couple to wish
for to fill the cup of happiness.
"Rosa, dear Rosa," said the fond hus
band, as they left the church, "haVO we
not much wherewith to cheer us onward
in the path of duty, so hard, so difficult
to tread ? Should we not thank God
for the bestowal upon us of so much
that renders life, happiness and probe=
tion, pleasure ? I cannot hut consider
that we have marked out a path of unin:
ter rupted happiness, Whose exercise is
coeval with existence."
"Indeed we should feel happy,• dleer
Mark," answered Rosa through her jay ,
ful tears, "for so much of friendliness is
seldom bestowed upon those as young,
as inexperienced as Os. Could our friends
but. know wrth how much true pleas..7 e _
able emotion they have inv , : sted my
heart to-day, they would not feel that
their kindness had been thrown away I
Men, women, and Children, were now
. .
eagerly prer:sing out Of the church; atn•
xious to obtain a glimpse of the sWeet
face of the bride; or,, bespeak from her
a glance of recognition, when suddenly
as the lightning's flesh passed ()Ver . , the
face of the cloud; ti deadly paleness en :
compassed her countemince, thet'e ivas
no impulsive shriek of terror, no cry of
despair, but a perfect quietude of the
limbs, and a previous contraction of the
muscular system, denoted too
. well the
existence of an insidious attack upon
bodily action. The hand whiCh had
been encircled by Mark's but a moment
before, now dropped listlessly to her
side, her eyes closed, and she fell heav
ily into the arms of her husband, All
was now consternation and confusion.
The cry of "she is dying! she is dy
ing !" had been borne to the ears of
those whose locality could not deter
mine the extent of her suffering, and
the doorway was crowded to excess by
friends and companions. Clear and
distinct above the din rose the voice of
the husband, struggling with emotion,
while, straining every nerve for the res
toration of the wife, he sought to con
vey her to more congenial air. "Back !
back !" said he, "why will you insist
upon suffocating her Back, back, 1
say, she wants but proper air." But
the crowd pressed heavily on, and it
was only by the aid of some stalwart
forms, whose physical energies enabled
them to stem the rushing tide, he reach•
ed the welcome earth.
Too late—too late! That spirit of
breathing action, whose constituents arc
life and vitality, whose perceptive fac
ulties are the endowments of reason
and will, and whose attributes are the
love and affection of the heart, that first
great principle of mortal enjoyment,
within whose amplitude the mind is ma
tured, and the soul nurtured for immor
tality, had been called to its source by
Him “who doeth all things welo Die
ease---not that of long endurance, whose
pain is intense, Whose agony is intermi
nable—but the insidious, stealthy ene
my, Who, Coming like a thief in the
night, clutches the unsuspecting
in the hour of seeming security, end
plucks from its throne the brightest
jewel of existence, had seized the fair
and lovely one and gently laid her in
the arms of the great depopulator.
When the sweet flower of life was just
budding into a fragrant existence, and
the delicious blossoms of human enjoy•
ment were opening their petals to a life•
time of sunshine and showers; when
Hope conceived a futurity of bliss,
whose immensity could be measured
only by the extent of human mortality,
this unsparing, unrelentless spirit,
whose invective is total destruction,
swept across the chords of her being,
and bore her soul away.
Who can depict the agony of his
mind that night 1 Who Can probe into
the fastness of a broken heart and seek
the barbed arrow which penetrates its
inward depths 1 He shed no tear, he
wiped from his cheek none of the unnat
ural moisture which might discolor the
flesh, but burying his face in his hands,
and varying his monotony by occasion
al glimpses at the features of her he
loved so well, he mourned away the
hours till daylight. To him time was
not, but eternity was growing at his
heart, and as he ever and anon turned
his eyes toward heaven for a renewal of
the sympathy he so much desired, a
moan escaped his lips, while within his
low murmer wits buried more of the in
tensity of suffering, more of the terri
ble of grief, than lives amidst a con
stancy of tears. And when they kind
ly told him that he must not thus wear
himself out by grieving for her he gent
ly thanked them for their care of him,
and gazed vacantly at the body, there
was so much of childish simplicity in
his actions, so much of mental innocence
in his look, that they could riot bid hint
leave her side.
Two days after theve tolled frodi the
bell of the old white church a solenin
requiem for the dead; while within sweet
voices chaneted a hymn of blessed
promises of immortality. The venerable
clergymen proclaimed the burial rites
with more than' common soleninity, and
there was not an eye in the house bear
ing its usual fatalness. A body was
pacfully consigned to n nelit-made
grave, and the chief mourner humbly
bowed hie heed in submission to God as
the loose earth Was thrown over the
remnant of marts:Hey: His was the
sublimity of grief,. the perfection of sor
row, his the soul of a faultless saint, the
body of d sinful man.
[l:7-A New Yr.- 1
young laA: pap; thinks that
• should never object to be
..g kissed by editors—they should make
every allowance for the freedom of the
press ! Saucy fellow.
',j7l3e silent when the fool prates—.
he will cease the sooner.
tiliE 6111P1t POWER,
BY EDWARD EVERETT.
"It has been as beautifully, as truly
said, that the undevout astronomer is
Mad." The same remark might with.
equal justice be applied tb the undeititit
gporogist. Of all the absurdities ever
started,
.hetie.mpre
the
can be
!Mated; than that the grand and far rea
ching researches and discoveries of ge
oltigy are hostile to the spirit of relizion.
They seem to us, on the very contrary,
to lead the enquirer, step by step, into
the more immediate presence of that tre
mendous potver, which
,could illbne pro
duce and can alone account for the prim
itive convulsions of the globe, of which
the proofs are greven in eternal cherae
ters, on the side of its bare and cloud
piercing mountains, or are wrought in
to the Very substance of the strata. ti
compose its surface; and which, are a lso
day by day and hour by hour, at work,
to feed the fire of the volcano, to pour
forth its molten tides; or to compound
the salubrious elements of the mineral
fountains, which spring in a thousand
valleys. In gazing at the starry hen ,
yens, all glorious as they are, we sink
under the awe of their magnitude, the
mystery of their secret and reciprocal
influences, the wildering concert - ion of
their distances. Sense and science are
at war.
The sparkling gem that glitters on
the brow of night, is converted by sci
ence into a mighty orb—the scotirce of
light and heat, the centre of attraction,
the sun of a system like our own. The
beautiful planet which lingers in the
western sky, when the sun has gone
down, or heralds the approach of mot.;
ning—whose mild and lovely, beams
seem to shed a spirit of tranquility, not
unmixed with sadness, nor far re ooved
from devotion, into the heart of hini who
Wanders forth in solitude to behold it
—is, in the contemplation of science, a
cloud-wrapt sphere; a world of ragged
mountains and stormy deeps: We stu
dy, we reason, we calculate. We climb
the giddy scaffold of ind..Otion tip to the
very stars. We borrow the wings of
the boldest analysis and flee to the utter
most parts df eteation; find twinkling in
the vault of night; the well-instructed
mind sees opening before it in mental
vision, the stupendous mechanism of the
heavens. Its planets swell into worlds,
Its crowded stars recede, expand, be
come central suns, and we hear the rush
of the mighty orbs that circle round
them.
The bands of Orion are closed, and
the sparkling rays which cross each oth
er on his belt, are resolved into floods of
light, streaming from system to sy stem,
across the illimitable pathway of the
outer heavens. The conclusions which
we reach are oppressively grand and
sublime; the imagination sinks under
them ; the truth is too vast, too remote
from the premises from which it is de
ducted ; and man, poor frail man, sinks
back to the earth, and sighs to worship
again, with the innocence of a child or
Chaldean shepherd, the quiet and beau
tiful stars, as he sees them in the sim
plicity of sense. But in the provence
of geology, there are some subjects in
which the senses seem, as it werei led
up into the laboratory of divine power:
Let a man fix his eyes upon one of the
marble columns in the Capitol tit Wash
ington. He sees there d eoadition of the
earth's surface, when the pebbles of ev
ery size and form of material, Which
compose this singular speicios of stone,
were held suriOnded in the medium in
which they are now imbedded into the
solid, lustrous, and variegated mass be-1
fore his eye, in the very substance of
Which he beholds a record of a Coinl-1
snit, of the globe.
Let him go tied stand upon the side of
the crater of Vesuvius, in the ordinary
state of its eruptions, and contemplate
the glazy stream of molten rocks, that
oozes quietly at his feet, encasing the
surface of the amtintain as it cools with
a most black and stygian crust, dr
ing up its sides Wt night with streaks of
lurid tire. Let him consider the Volca
no island; Willa arose a fetli yeerifinee
in the neighbOrhaod of Malta, *Ann*
flames from the bottdiri Of the si a ; or
adcornpany one of our own navigators
from Nantucket or the Atlantic ocean,
Who, finding the centre of a small is
land, to which he was in the habit of re
sorting, sunk in th.e interval of two of
his vorael!‘.:, sailed through an opening
":' sides where the ocean had found
its way, and moored his ship in the
smouldering crater of a recently extin.
guished volcano.
Or finally, let him survey the striking
phenomenon which our author has de
' scribed, and which has led us to this
train of remark, a mineral fountain of
salubrious qualities, of a temperature
• greatly above that of the surface of the
earth in the region where it itt found,
VOL. XI V, NO, 22
compounded with numerous ingredients
•in a c.instant proportion, and known to
haie been flowing from its secret
springs, as at the present day, at least
-for eight hundred yeat's; unchanged, an
azatisted. he . . religions of the elder
world in an early stage of civilization
placed a genius or a divinityby the side
of every spring which' gushed from the
rocks, or flowed frcini the.busom of the
earth. Surely it Would be no weakness
for a thoughtful Than Who should resort
for the renovation of a Wasted frame, to
!Joe of those saluhrions mineral foun
tains, if he
.drink in their healing wa
ters as a gift from the out-stretched;
though invisible hand, of an everywhoge
present and benignant power.
Overlooking Nothing.
Some men seem to go through the
world with their eyes shut—others keep
them always open. , The latter, at every
step; are adding to their stock of knowl 7
edge, and correcting and improving their
judgment. by experience and , observa
tion. Theyk,eep their minds ever awake
and active, and on the alert—gathering
instruction , from, every sccurry.nce,
watchiuk for favnrable opportunities;
and seeking,, if possible, to turn over
their fuilures and mischances to their
advantage. Such persons will rarely
have occasion to say, "I have lost a
day," or, , ,
To weep o'er hours that flow
More idly than the summer's wind."
They will make every event the occa
sion of improvement, and will find
. 4 Books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."
To the attentive observer, even nature
ittelf will appear a vast scroll, written
all over by the finger of
. God, with in.
structive, though sometimes mysterious
characters; While ,to the careless it will,
seen at best but a blank, or
. perhaps a
scene of confusion, without form or
comliness," possessing little to excite
curiosity or admiration.. . .
.To the young; especially, would we
recommend habits of close and careful
observation. We would say to them;
overlook nothing. Do not despise the
day of small things. Endeavor to turn
the leisure you have—the money you
may earn to inherit—the privileges you
may enjoy—in short; everything to the
best possible account. Take care of the
minutes and pence, and the hours and
pounds will take care of themselves.
He who learns to regard his leisure
moments, as valueless, and habitually
squanders far tr!flei the small sums of
money he may have, because they are
small, will never be learned or rieh:—.
The secret of success; is to be careful
of little things.
Spend no moment but in purchase of its worth,
And what its worth, ask deathbeds, theycan tell:
WASHINGTON--Extruct from Woeb..
ington's code of manners , written in
his early youth :
"Every action ought to be with some
sign of respect to those present.
"Be no flatterer, neither play with any
one who delights not to be played with.
"Read no papers ; or books; in compa
ny. Come not near the papers or books
of another sir as to read them., Look
not over another when he is writing.
"Let your countenance be cheerful;
but In serious matters be grave.
"Show not yourself glad at anotier's
ittisfortuies. . .
. .
"Let your discourse with others on
matters of business be short.
"it is good manners to let others
speak first.
"When ri man dins all he can, do not
blitt*e hfrii though he Succeeds not well.
"Take admonitions thankfully.
"fte not too hasty to belieVe flying re
pkiris to the injury af,tinother.
"Let your dress be modest, and con-
Cult your condition. Play not the Peo-
cock, by looking vainly at yourself
"ft is better to be alone than in bad
6anpany:
"Let your conversation be without
malice or envy:
"Urge nut your freind to discover a
secret., •
"Break not it jest where none take
piesture in mirth.
"Speak not injurious words either itv
jest or in earnest.
"Gaze not on the blemishes of etiVers:
"When another speaks be attettilie:
"Be not apt to relate news.
"Be not curious to know the affairs of
others."
"Paorosst.s for carrying the mails !"
exclaimed Mrs. Partington, in a tone of
vigorous indignation, as she happened to
glance over an advertisement in one of
the papers. "Has it come to this ; that
us poor unfortunate female critters aro
to be made beasts of burden, to carry
about a pack of goarl-for.rtothitg men on
i our batsksl" She threw down the paper
and rose hastily from the chair; and
took snuff at a prodigious rate, highly
excited at the degrading provolision:
....--