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-"With sweetest flowers enrich'd,
From various gardens culi'd with care•"
, i j•The following highly creditable production is
from the pen of Mum. LTDTA JANE PaEnsos,
of Liberty,Tiogacounty,Pa..the writer of those
very pretty articles recently copied into our
paper over the signature of "LYDIA JANE."
FROM"TrIF: TIOGA COUNTY P/ICHNIX
WIGHT'S or wortrAiv.
ariirmA JANE I'IEII3ON.
It is her right to love, to hope fur bliss;
To give her heart in all its wiarni fresh beauty
Imo a mortal s power— (Alas! Alas!
For the young holy heart, that knows no e;uile,
Whose utterance is all truth and which expects
Like truth from others. 0 how rich its offering
Its faith is like the pure deep arch of Heaven,
Reflected in a calm bright world of waters;
It gild., it occupies, it fills the whole.)
'TIN woman's right to give such holy heart,
With such engrossing love and faith, to man;
It is her right to hope for full returns
Which in fruition would be perfect bliss.
If she sees
Her bright hopes blighted, her deep trust deceiv'd
Wrecked like the blur arch's shadow in the deep,
When the tierce storm God drives across its breas
When she feels
Her fond lore met with coldness or contempt,
Whon cruel scorn or bitter jealousy
Arc knowing on her life strings, and her heart
But late so fresh and joyous, feels the blight,
The withering blight of hope's last struggling sigh.
That breaks life's tuneful chords, and wuunds the
soul,
While the poor fragments of her broken heart,
And withered hopes, and wreck'ci and broken joys
Still cling around the lov'd, the careless one—
Then 'tis her right
With meek cndurnnce and a patient smile
To bear her lot in silence—silence? Aye,
To whom should she complain? if he for whom
She left her father's hearth, and watchful care,
Her mother's soothing voice, and gentle eye,
Her brothers frolick love—and the sweet smile,
And fond endearments of that cherub band,
Of young and joyous sisters, and the haunts
Of laughing childhood, and uublemish'd youth;
Scenes and companions, which no after joy
Can e'er supplant, and which the ills of life
Bind closer to the spirit's memories
Aye if he
For whom her young heart made with cheerfulness
So great a sacrifice, has pierc'd that heart,
And smitten that confiding spirit through
With many sorrows—Oh to whom on earth
Shall she reveal her pain, and deep despair?
If he has broken up her trust in him,
Who can she confide In? Then 'tis hers
To lock her grief in silence in her breast
The while it drinks life's flowing fountain dry,
Her-heart is broken, yet its shreds are his,
Her eyes are humid—yet they court his smile,
Her feet are weary of the load of life,
And yet she follows with his destinfes
The strange and cold world over—'Tis her right
When wrong, or scorn, or injury cloud his brow
To soothe him, or endure his cold repulse
Without a bitter word —to seek his case,
To labor for his comfort—to deny
Herself, and seek hie happiness alone,
Making its emanations all her bliss.
'Tis her right
To bollix friend when all the world forsakes,
To sootho the wound that treachery has made,
To vindicate hie name and speak his praise.
'Tin hers to watch with soft and stealing tread.
Pale cheek, neglected dress, and hollow eve,
By tears and watching faded, round his bed
When pain and fever prey upon his
To soothe his anguish, to assuage his pangs,
To cool his burning brow, and calm his soul,
Performing cheerfully each irksom ta•k,
Aid meekly bearing all his peevishness.
• While one kind word, or glance of gratitude',
-lfakes her heart throb, and brings the thrdhug Is!
rb, gone days, thro' her poor blighted br ast;
Ah! momentary flush of joyousness—
. It leaves a spirit sadder than before
'Tis hers to prove
What 'tis to be a mother— all th pangs,
The hopes, the fears, the anguish, the delight
The cares the w itchings, the solicitu.!es,
Experienced by maternity alone.
Oft 'tis here
To See the counts bud blighted, to behold
Her cherish'cl infant pte.• and waste away,
While all her cares ar• •x..reised iti vain,
Her prayers unbe..ded. and her hitter teors
Shed utterly in vain her child must die!
With swimming brain she puts its wither'd lips
To her full breast, it cannot sip th. balm
That fed its little life; leeble it moans,
And lifts its heavy eye with wistful look,
To her who eaniv t save or soothe death's pangs,
And they she feels the bitternesa of dralle—
Agairetit hers. (0 Father! front my lip
Withhold the brim of this moil bitter cup)
. - .;;;To see a dear young daughter, beautiful,
"Aid pure as morning, e'er one stealing foot
pass'd amongst its dew drops; e'er one breath
e come abroad upon its balmy air;
- 75 An innocent but too confiding girl,
Deceived, undone, and lost for ever more!
••-• Then 'tis her lot to sorrow o'er a son
-.ll .. duiled of young life's innocence, and hope
* Whelna'd in the vortex of licentiousness,
..Shun'd by the guiltless, pitied by the good,
Hated, and aimed at, by self-righteous men;
And feared, and itied, by the innrx•ent
And this is he upon whose boyish days
She looked with joy, with 'wide, and ardent hope,
For whom she watched and prayed, and who at last
Brings her no mood but shame, and prayers and
tears—
These complicated ills 'tis hers to bear
And smile beneath their pressure when the heart
is swollen almost to bursting, and the tear
Lies ill the eye lid ready to gush, forth;
And the deep spirit feels the venemed wound
That is of all ills hardest to be borne—
Still she endures— A h blessed be His name
Mahal; accorded even to her a right
In Christ our consolation—when she sees
The hopes of this world blighted, and the joys
On which her young heart dotted fall away,
And all her brilliant expectations change,
As the bright vapors of a summer morn
Change to dark clouds, that render night more drear;
Oh then how precious is the right divine
That makes the christian's consolation hers,
Amidst the wars of life's mad elements,
She proves the peace that passes understanding,
MO feels that 'tis a blessed right to die,
T. sleep in Jesus, and awake in Heaven—
T. •se, these are woman's lights, assured by God
A d man accords no other!
LOVE THEE, DEAREST!
)
Love thee oty,„tweal? Hear me—never
Will my Mid vows be forgot!
May I perish, and forever.
When, dear maid, I love thee not!
Then turn not from me, deareatt— Listen!
Banish all thy doubts and fears!
And let thine eyes with transport glist en !
What bast thou to do with tears?
Dry them, dearest!—Ah, believe me,
Love's bright flame is burning still!
Though the hollow world deceive thee,
Here a heart that never will!
Dost thou smile?--A cloud o(sorrots ,
Breaks before Joy's rising suu'
Wilt thou give thy hand?—To•murrow
Hymen, dearest, makes us one!
AUTUMNAL EVENING.
When day, with fearful beam Mays
Among the opening clouds of even.
And we can almost think we pow
Through golden violas into Heaven:
Those hue, that make the in. decline.
Stll soft, Ito radiant, Loa; art thine!.
~/i• I
4
My good render, you must excuse my enthusi
ft has been said that Niagara cannot be
scribed. I think it can be. Cannot one record
in paper the thotufitts provoked by the objects of
grandeur and magnificence that have met his c•rc!
Verily, I trove so; and I will try. The first mi -,
talse corrected by an approach to Niagara, is tai
width. Von have supposed it an outlet front
one lake to another, pressed into narrow bounda
ries and urged on by irresistable impulses. You
were deceived by fancy. The river is like some
bay of lin ocean; as if indeed the Atlantic and Pa
cific, one far below the other, should meet, by the
firmer being narrowed to the width of one or two
miles. and falling to the depth of more than two
hundred feet. with rocks and islands on the edge
of the vast gulf, frowning and waving between.
Very HOOII we reached the Pavilion. The se
lection of an apartment, visitation to the barber,
and the donning of a cool summer dress, were all
speedily accomplished. The ceaseless hum of
the Falls was in my hearing—it shook the win- 1
dows of the Pavilion, front which I gazed. Below,
at a few rods distance, the mighty Niagara plung
ed into its misty abyss: above, to the south, it
seemed US if an ocean, fierce as that tide which
'keeps due on to the Propontic and the Helles
pont,' was rushing madly down to some undis
covered cavern, where its fury was lost and sus
pended forever.
Descending through the garden and the open
common which intervene between the Pavilion
and the distant river to the eastward, we struck
the road, and observed the sign which pointed
'u•To •curs FALLS. Here let me say a word,
which I think will give the idea of Niagara
vividly to one who has never seen it. It seemed
to me, as I looked from the window of the Pavil
ion that the river was very nearly on a level with
the house. Well, I passed over the places I have
mentioned; and at the guide-post aforesaid, we
began to make a most precipitous descent, over
rude stair-cases, bedded in miry clay. In a few
moments we were nearly on a level with the river,
which was in full view, and close at hand. At
that instant, the first impression of the vast power
of Niagara struck my mind; but it was faint and
feeble, compared with those that succeeded. For
miles, looking upward at the stream, it resembled
a foaming ocean, vexed by the storms of the equi
nox. We proceeded to the house which heads
the perpendicular descent to the bed of the river,
at the foot of the Falls. Those who dress for
deeds of aquatic daring with more deliberation
than myself, would have changed their ordinary
attire for those simple and coarse habliments usu- ,
ally adopted by those adventurous spirits who get;
their drenched certificate for going under the
sheet—but for my part, I had not the patience.—
Endowing myself with an oil-cloth surtout, I be_
gun to descend the stair-cosi) leading to the base !
of the cataract.
The descent seemed interminable. I thought I
had travelled an hour, still moving round and
round—in darkness, and alone. It was a solemn
probation, during which I had time to nerve my
spirit for the grandeur and the awe with which it
was soon to be impressed. At last, I made my
egress from the stair-case into the presence of the
Wonder.
My first idelt-was, that a tremendous storm
lamed since I began to descend. Beverl! rails to
42 1 _11 3 1:3a21)J143
Oct- The New York "KNICKEREOCK ER con
ceive to be tale of the best periodicals extant We are
never disappointed when we open it—hut always find
its pages filled with interesting and amusing articles
The productions of one of its contributors alone (OL
LAPOD) are worth ten times more than the subscrip
tion price of the work. To give our readers a sample
of 011apod writings,we copy from the Knickerbocker
for October the following account of the author's visit
to, and description of, the
FALLS OF NIAGARA.
AT the distance of five miles from Niagara
Falls, you catch the first distinct view. Is it su
blime? No—for distance so softens and deceives,
that you cannot appreciate it.. You strain your
onward-looking eyes, till the retina aches with
gazing. What do you see? A cloud of appa
rent smoke, along the northern border, the nil
ultra of the lake you are ploughing; and on ei
ther side all is apparently a wide shore of rocks
and woods—and beyond, a terrible gulf, of which
you see nothing but the ceaseless cloud that rises
at its dim and dismal edge.
'And that is Niagara!' said I, as the moun
taninus spray, volume after volume, swelled up
ward in the sun. 'Well I seem disappointed.
'Do your said my friend, the legislator, with a
triumphant accent on the first branch of the inter
rogation. 'You see the cataract is as yet afar,pfri: :
just put your hand to your ear, guaillim*Orm
the tumult of the machinery, and tell me if you
do not hear something?'
I did so; and sonorous, full, and replete with a
sense of awe, the voice of the cataract swelled in
my ear.
All now was expectancy and enthusiasm.
could scarcely stand still. • Before me, like the pil
lar of fire to the host of the Israelites, rose tha
eternal column of snowy mist, tinct and garnish
ed by the sunbeam—and I had caught the soutu
of Niagara!
I scarcely know' how I left Chippewa. I am
aware that all my travelling movements and pre
cautions were executed with habitual discretion;
but I cannot explain to any one the new sensa
tions I experienced on our way to the Falls.—
When at the distance of some two or three miles
from the cataract, there seemed to be an increasing
shadow, like that of an eclipse, in the atmosphere.
The dimness increased; and on passing a lapse of
woods, and emerging again in sight of the river, I
felt assured that a storm was coming on. I or
dered our postillion to atop.
'ls there no house,' I enquired, between this
and Niagara? There is a thunder shower coin
ing on; I hear it growling.'
It would have done your heart good, to have
heard the laugh of that driver. It was loud and
long; it bubbled up from his heart, as ifjhat he
hail just heard was the best joke he had listened
to for years.
'Bless your soul, friend, it's not going to rain.
What you see, is the cloudy mist, and what you
hear, is- the roar of them Falls, yonder. Jet
wait a minute—and then—,
'Stop!' said I, rising in our harouche,
gilded by the westering sun, I caught, as we
wheeled around n clump of trees, the first view of
the vast green gulf and circle of the Horse-Shoe
Fat
"I WISH NO OTHER HERALD, NO OTHER SPEAKER OF MY LIVING ACTIONS, TO KEEP MINE HONOR FROM cortsvprioN."--siteari
ezewtex.n.avP24l,, rpacb, auwp:Dazr 0 Oeia 3 421atrliaiLa ad. aotuao
"Who made the world, and heaped the waters far
Above its loftiest mountain."
Whence came those ceaseless and resounding
floods? From the "hollow hand" of Omnipotence!
Fancy stretches and plumes her advgnturous
ons from this point: she goes onward to the Lip,
per Lakes, and their peopled shores; she pursues
her voyage to the dark streams and inland seas
of the west; and returning, finds her delegated
waters pouring heavily and with eternal thunder
down that dizzy steep! Thought, preying upon,
itself, is lost in. ono deep and profoundT - r,,,t c w
me,ollectio , n—of prospect. 1 , 0 a:. change
one word from Byron, to exprerN icy meaning:
"By those that deepest feel, is ill cxprest
The indistinctness of the laboring breast:
Where thousand thoughts begin, to end in one,
Which seek from all the refuge found in none "
Front the spot of which I speak, you can easil
imagine that there has come upon you the deluge.
or the day of doom. The voices of eternity see]
to burden the air; look up, and the dark rocks,
like the confines of legethon, seem tottering to
their hill; where you stand, the whirlwind which
livars upon its pinions drops heavier than those of
the most dismal tempest that c' IT rent the wilder
ness on land, or wrecked an armament at sea, is
moaning and howling. Castilla a glance at the
tipper verge of the Fulls, you see the turbulent ra
pids, thick, green, and high, shrinking back, as it
were, from their perilous descent, until a mass of
waves behind urges them, resistless, onward; to
speak in thunder, and to rise in mist and foam,
the children of strife, yet parents of the rainbow,
that emblem of peace.
I once asked an elderly friend, in whose domicil
I was a favored inmate, and who suffered much
from the gout, whether there might be any pain,
known to myself, which would compare with it.
"No!" he replied: "I never met any thing of the
sort in my life: there is nothing on earth like i 4
and I am destitute of any descriptive comparison.
I tun not dead at present; I hau'n't been as yet to
Tophei ; and therefore can't tell whether gout is
like that, or purgatory; but I believe it to be as j
near that as any thing." It is thus with Niagara.
There is no emblem: it has no rival—it is like no
rival. Its mullAdinous waves have a glory and
a grandeur of their own, to which nothing can be
added, and from which nothing can be taken
away.
It has been said, that the tremors or presenti
ments of those who march to battle, are dissipated
by the bustling of caparisoned horses, the rolling
of the war-drum, the clangour of the trumpet, the
clink and fall of swords—"the noise of the captains
and the shouting." Some such kind of inspiration
is given to the thoughtful and observant man,who
goes under the Great Fall of Niagara. As I moved
along behind my sable guide, holding on to his
dexter,
••Even as a child, when scaring sounds molest.
Clings close and closer to its mother's breast;"
while the waters dashed fiercer and more fiercely
around about me, methought I had, in an evil
hour, surrendered myself to perdition, and was
now being drugged thither by the ebon paw of
Satan. Shortly, however, tho stormy music of
Niagara took possession of my soul; and had
Abaddon himself been there, I could have followed
him home. For one moment, only, I faltered.
The edge of the sheet nearest the Canada side,
from its rude and fretting contact with the shore
rimw.mrmiwiwrffmm/Immm
Near Termination Rock, you pass by that dim
border of the Fall, and exchanging recent dark-
nerve for the green and qpectnil light struggling
through the- - I - hick water, you are enabled to dis-
cem where you are. My God! It is enough to
make an earth-tried angel shudder, familiar though
he may be with the wonder-workings of the Eter
nal. Look upward! There, forming a dismal
curve over your head, and looming in the decep-
tiro and unearthly light, to a seeming distance of
many hundred feet, moaning with that _ceaseless
anthem which trembles at their base, the rocks
arise, toward Heaven—covered with the green ooze
of centuries—hanging in horrid shelves, and ap-
parently on the very point of breaking with the
weight of that accumulated sea which tumbles
and howls over their upper verge! There is no
the south, the Falls, dimly seen, boomed and
thundered with a noise so stunning, that I was
almost distracted. At my feet, there rolled on
ward what seemed a lake of milk—having about
it nothing dark—not even a glimpee of water-co
lor. I saw, near by, a tall black figure, smiling
graciously, like some good-natured Charon, ready
to transport his customers across the River of
Death. He announced himself as the conductor
of gentlemen under the Falls. Taking his hand,
I approached them. At a certain point, as wo
drew nigh, I begged him to stop. The mist had
surged upward from my vision, and before me
broke dawn, as it were, Me Atlantic, from a height,
so dizzy that it made the eye shrink from gazing;
the distant side of the vast semicircle hid from
view by a rainbow, and the awful mass of green,
mad waters, rushing to the abyss, with a noise
like the breaking up of chaos! What in like Mat
scene? It is itself alone; to depict it, comparisons
fail. You must describe itself.
I know not how it was, but such a RC of
awe and majesty descended at that mornen n
my spirit, that I burst into tears, and MA ' ''..cl
t t
through every nerve. What an awful hum otid
moaning pierced the hearing sense! Above me,
hideous rocks rose for hundreds of feet; dark
shelves, wet with the eternal tempest around tl4m;
and at every moment a stormy gust would drive
a deluge of water in my face, taking my breath,
and chilling me, as it were in the depth of the
solstice, even to the bone. As we shouldered the
dark ledges which extended under the sheet., I al
most shrank from the desperate undertaking; and
never did lover, howsoever deeply skilled in 'holy
palmistry; press the jewelled hand of his mistress
with .such ,affection as that wherewith 011apod
grasped the sable.,fingers of his African conductor.
His splay feet, and amphibious-looking heels,
seemed to stamp • him some creature of the de
ments; a Calihan, schooled to generous offices by
some supernatural master.
When you approach within ten feet or so of
that tremendous launch of waters, then is the time
to pause for a moment, to steep and saturate your
soul with one preeminent and grand remembrance.
For me, if millimm of human beings had been
around me, I should have felt alone—and as oho
who, having passed beyond the dominions of mor
tality, stood presented before the marvels of his
God! It is a place for the silent adoration of to
heart for Him
Iscene of sublimity on earth comparable to this.—
You stand beneath the rushing tributes from u
hundred lakes; you seem to hear the wafflings of
imprisoned spirits, until, fraught 4,14 filled with
the spirit of the scene, you exclaim-;--“Tortc is
A Gold—and this vast cataract, awful, overpow
ering as it is, is but a play-thing of his hand.!"
There is one dreadful illusion to which the un
trained eye is subject, under this water-avalanche.
You know, travelled reader, that when you jour
ney swiftly in a rail-road car, the landscape seems
moving past you with the speed of lightning.—
You see distant trees a:A fields, apparently out of
compliment to the Leomotive, wheeling otT obse
quiously to the tir.ht 5;..: left. Every grove seems
engaged in a rigado;.n. This Musa thus is par
ticularly discernible on the face of Niagara, when
you are beneath the Falls. Look at the sheet but
for one moment, and you find yourself rising up-'
ward t% ith the swithicso of thought. Turtling
your eye to the rocky wall whisll bounds you, for
a moment you give a side-long glance at its dizzy
extent. Heavens!--what was that noise? Did
not a portion of the rock above—some massy
mountain of stone—then till? No—it was only
the thunder of commingled rupids, which united
at the edge of the precipice, and rushed impetu
ously into the abyss together. It is this which
makes such heavy music—such solemn tones—in
the distant voice of Niagara.
A most thorough bath—such an one as I never
took before—gave roe, after my changed dress, and
proper probation, a superior appetite for joining a
supper party at the Pavilion. • I q.ernember the
pleasure I once enjoyed, during a summer sojourn
at West Point, among congenial spirits. Every
day, at dinner, in the large mirrorswhich bedeck
the dining saloon at COZZEN'I4 capital establish
ment, what time we discussed viands and wines, I
could see the reflected Hudson and its shores—
the distant mountains towering into the sky—and
steam-craft moving; while .
—"from town to town,
The snowy sails went gleaming down."
You seem to think, if you are any thing of an
economist, at Niagara, that you are likely to get
from your host the worth ey your money. He
gives you "green or black tea," and all the appoint.
ments of a good supper, and he flings in a view of
Niagara from the, dining-room windows, without
any extra expense! Its music shakes your hand
as you lift your coffee to your lip; its bounding and
agitated lapse smites your eye, as you sip the juice
of the Moca berry—yet you never find it i' the
bill. If you wish to be fleeced, however, employ
a. guide to tell you when is the time to . say "Good
gracious! how sublime!" and to show you the
thousand little nothings in the vicinity of the Falls,
which, compared with them, arc, as it might be, to
pit a flea in fight against a lion or an elephant. Ye
blind guides!—door-keepers of the gates of sub-
limity, which you cannot speak of or describe, save
its the stale terms of business!' Ye tell .a man
Whoso heart, and mind are overflowing with awe
and wonder when to use his eyes! Ye arc varlets
all; akin to that enterprising man, mentioned, if I
mistake not, by Goldsmith, who issued proposals
to bite off his own nose by subscription!—or rath
er, to that builder of chateaux, who exclaimed, in
a paroxysm of delight, as he stood ut the foot of
the Canada Fall, "By the Lord!—what a glorious
place f o r washing hats!"
Hero let me play the counsellor to the visitor
at Niagara. I offer my opinion with confident
diffidence. Doubtless you desire to receive at the
Falls, and to carry away with you, the strongest
impression. Do not therefore go down to the
foot of the cataract on the Canada aide. Take
your coup (I'm'il a. you drive in your carriage to
the Pavilion. Take your supper there, as did the
goodly company- of your adviser, 01lapod. Sup
posing you are an American—which I trust you
are—you will of course feel a sort of pride in be
lieving, that the best view is on the American
Hide. And so it is: yet to look at the United
States' part of the cataract, you would say it was a
mere mill-dam. It is thus that distance deceives
You cannot see the movement of that far-off wa
ter, or hear distinctly the horrid sound with which
it plunges from its cloud-kissing elevation to the
depth below. But if you would obtain the deep.
est and strongest thoughts of Niagara, do as I say.
Observe the semicircular cataract on the Can
ada side from the esplanade of the Pavilion—bu
do not go down to the base of the Fall. Let the
view remain upon your mind as a beautiful pie-
Lure; keep the music in your ear, for it is a stern
and many-toned music, that you cannot choose bu
hear. Order the coachman to transport your lug
gage to the ferry below the Falls—some mile or
so. There embark: you will be frightened,
doubtless, as you gaze to the south, and see the
awful torrent pouring down upon you; hut you
may take the word of the ferry-man that for some
dozen or twenty years he has never met with an
accident: you may believe him, for the air of truth
breathes through his large grim whiskers. You
will see the waves curling their tubrulent tops,
and dark rocks emerging from their milky current
and seething foam, within a yard of your prow
but be not afraid. You are soon at the foot of
And here, after all, kind reader, is the place for a
view. Do not look about you much. Be content
with the thunder in your cars, and wait until some
practiced and tasteful observer, kindly acting as
your cicerone, bids you stop just at that point on
the stair-case where the plunging river, on the
American side, dashes downward in its propulsive
journey. There, by the onward plunge of the
cataract, which bounds in a ridge over the abyss,
describing as it were a circular fall, the, view of
Goat Island is completely cut off, and the whole
sweep of the Falls—Canadian, American and all
—is seen at once; apparently one unbroken waste
of stormy and tumultuous waters. You must be
a demi-god, if you can stand on that hallowed
ground,' shaking with the accents of a God, span
ned with his bow, resounding with , his strength,
and laughing in his smile, without emotions of
indescribable wonder. Thus, with a trembling
hand, and a spirit saturated with the grandeur of
the scene, 011apod pencilled his hasty, weak, and
inexpressive scrawl:
Elena speaks the voice of God! Let man be dumb,
Nor, with his vain aspirings, hither come;
That voice impels these hollow-sounding floods,
And with its presence shakes the distant woods;
These groaning rocks the Almighty's finger piled—
For ages here his painted bow has smiled;
Mocking the changes and the chance of time—
EternObcautiful—serene.—sublimel
Vataf
The Gambler.
What a miserable being is the gambled .How
racked and torn his heart! How uncertain in all
his ways! The increasing avarice for more of
that which is rot his, gives him no peace. The
regularity of business and the acquisition of wealth
in the usual way, are too monotinons. His fa
mily presents no pleasure for hiM. The smiles of
his wife—the prattle of his children—the bright,
peaceful fireside at home—are exchanged for the
society of blasphemers, drunkards, revilers, extor
tioners and murderers.
Watch him a moment in the course of-his mad
and ruinous cnrrcer. The night is rude and gusty
without—but not more so than his bosom. He has
left his home. He win,Lq his way—not through
the public street—tart gropes along some dark and
noisesome lane. How loathsome a passage to a
pit. And the voice of rioting—the !torrid curse—
the exulting laugh—the noisome smell—affect his
senses and a momentary feeling of disgust runs
through his frame, yet onward he rushes, and is in
their midst, n gambler.
The implements of ruin aro well arangcd. A
round the room are seated the high and low, the
rich and poor—men of every clime, of every age—
here there is no distinction. 7'he wheel r f Poriane
acts well its part. He stakes and with the rest
waits anxiously the result. "l'is gone! He stakes
again, Nis won, again, 'tis lost. How exciting!
Each moment adds new impulse to go on. Again
he looses, and is more excited, and then with hor
rid oath, stakes ALL.
• A wandering thought of home—wife—children,
flies across his brain: a pang of sorrow—hut 0,
how quickly drowned in the intoxicationg - r1:;• , !
Drink, drink, drink!
The wheel is turned—the die is cast.
arc counted, and, as with heavy presses
his burning—beating brow, cries lost,
He is out in the cooling breeze.
shines brightly out. And hero aul
little twinkling star, peers its way through tin
cloud. One moment, and his wife, his chitdror.,
his fireside flit by. But no, he has ruined them--
they are hiniseless, friendless, how can he meet
them? Never: the hist, the infatuated resolve of
him, who thus forsakes the honorable and manly
walks of life is made. • • He is a suicide.
Review of Glib.
What a variety of pleasing and painful thoughts
and feeling's does the recollection of past years
excite in the mind! I have seen days of prosperi
ty and gladnem, and days of adversity and sorrow.
I have enjoyed the love of 17:•!:ti‘e: . - f, lends.
and conversed with the Win and good. Pt:t ma
ny of those who were the nearest and deare:J. to
me, are gone down to the grave;' and I stand
an aged tree, surrounded by, a now genc; - .li6n.
The spring is past; the summer is ended; the
autumn is almost closing, and winter is at hand.
Shall I indulge in sadness and grief! No: I
would most thankfully acknowledge the divine
goodness. I have enjoyed numberless blessings
and I now put my severest trials among them.
What blessings in Providence haVe I to recount;
God has preserved me, provided for me, guided
me, and "done all things well." I have had friends
and benefactors. The evil which I feared did not
befall me; and good things which I never expect
ed, have been granted me. Truly, it becomes me
to be thankful.
Whorl I look to spiritual blessings, how shall I
express my gratitute! I might have been left to
spend my years in ignorance, pride, and folly; but
in the tender mercy of the Most High, I have been
made acquainted with the way of life, and peace,
and everlasting blessedness. I might have been
at this moment a careless, presutning, miserable
trifler on the borders of eternity: but "by the grace
of God, lam what I am." .
But what shall I say, on the review of my con
duct? What have I rendered to the Lord for all
his benefits? What have I done for his glory,
and for the good of men? When I look on the
talents committed to my care, what shall i say
respecting my use or abuse of them? Have I faith
fully improved my spiritual blessings, and fixed as
a true follower of Christ?
Alas! I have not fully and rightly improved any
ulent; and mercy; any portion of the divine bonn
y. atlnter not into judgment with thy servant,
O Lord; .fur in thy sight shrill no man living be
*ustified."
But I trust that, through divine grace, I have
not been altogether faithless, inactive, and useless.
I have reason to be ashamed and penitent; but I
have reason also to be thankful and rejoice. I have
not wholly forgotten God, and his word, and the
duty of the true Christian.
I now find it an easy thing to discover how I
should have acted; what I ought to have done;
and I chide myself for my former indolence and
perverseness. How much of life has been wasted
n doing nothing! How much of it ha been spen
in fine speculations, airy fancies,specious purposes,
and inefficient resolve! How small a portion of
good for myself, and in doing good for the benefit
of others!
What reason have I to admire the goodness
and forbearance of God; I would magnify his
grace, by which I am what I am: by which only
I have been enabled to order my conversation in
any measure aright. I would magnify that grace
which has done great things for me; but I would
take shame and confusion to myself, when I con-
eider how littlo I have done fur my divine Belie-
I acknowledge my. numberless transgressions
and my unprofitableness: and I extol tilts - divine
goodness, by which, I trust, I have been redeemed
from ignorance, sin, and death: and I cannot re
fuse to cherish the hope, that He who has been
good to me will yet continue his goodness to me,
and that I shall praise Him for ever—Jehovah—
Father, Son, and Spirit—the Creator, Redeemer,
and Stinctifier.
O my Soul! thou bast been made to take the
Bible for thy teacher and guide. Thou haat been
enabled to receive, in somo measure, the offOred
blessings, and to rejoice in the consolations, of the
gospel of Christ. Thou knowest spiritual things
in a spiritual manner. Be humble and penitent.
as thou considercst thy past misconduct; and grate-
fully acknowledge the divine goodness. While
the outward man totters and decays, while thin
world is receding and fading from thy view, let
[VOL. 77-NO. 33.
- ,14unact:rstistittizazzumeniciNWP
faith prevail !'t illy hr gratituifp and
p ra i se . ''my li i • :ill-ill
imto Thrr; P1:1; C , 31;1.
: t i `15.1
all tl , t , il.iy
Thou art now, tt I.ly . .11ir t
Upon t f,•1111 WhiCh
tho past and the two:T. llothol -
with v:hieli !lon hf. , t f " ;:r a 1.. (jrir
and in wl,:r1) :hy cro ' n to
liPir)rtl 0100 c,. the cov.a.,i c.t thy 4:•&:-/ri, art
world Wi'. l )9lli
0,31. ie eve
Value, 1) my r...^,...ant tliy
earth. Use. a grCa ter 01 1 .4;1 , i:cc! 11 , 1dEty.
thy last iiivs 111 %.*.it•!;-
ageous !ero the
even till the .tun
for ever from coo •e - a If ; . 4
a world which thou nrt to
lug the 'spirit of that world on with! , that) act ntw 't
to enter, the conclusion of thy nice
be like a fine autumnal eveninr
clouds and dark shades; but
shall shine forth; and then thou ic
with, hope, and peace.
Most merciful and gracious Lord, r thankfiet:
acknowledge thy goodness to me during
days. Mercy and goodness have hitherto 1;4
me. ' , Cast me not off in the time
forsake me not when mrstrength fr.ileth;* .r.Ct
me penitent and humble - , thankful and
, . .
enable me to spend the residue of life to 77 y,, , 42,ry,
and to the good of fellow-creatures; throtiglis
Christ our only Saviour, Amen.
VARIETY.
/ZEAL 1, 1 11'. •
HT JO+ . ' , 3r A. III:WITT.
thou. lovel‘•:inet
M .: - lip i 041 the got 4 1 !,• , ;
(I.:aft
With melting eyes v . :urn th,
.1 1 1 ,, e1:Te•
rt , l , y gem each drop th.th
r ht rlittering in the c, stal n';-1t„
Our ii TA i- ;:.“ drink the smiliag beam,
1,!.,•dg0 to Rosabol I
The het drop now i. en my lips,
It hangs there trembling wiirdelay;
Each si;fi‘
- tl,e tv,fay;•
Or r lilend it with the • -
That glistens whil" I imeatile Fare:; if;
erink the two to memory dear,
heart-f . e% pledge to Rosabel.,
honi,h to thee—it is the last, - :
.:nti , C.ol," ) ..lss away!
no rot.;.tl the rnt.k.""Artt;f4 4 : C, %!'7 . 44
hat
Wirh 1,!. minstrel's hair!--tbo' rpa,
Beeh - I.rokort part still owns one raven—
Ono silent mentory is nil that's leT
For thou and him, fair Rosalie! 'WWI!'
A orix;;.(sts or WED LOC K.—There is a great
deal °firm!' end feeling in the subjoined piquant
description of the discomforts of the bachelor.—
May the married be thereby reminded to ciprcei
iate their comforts, and the ascetic to expericnco
practically, how the cares of life a.,-' 'i.;:': iiii dlel,
and its joys increased by the presence of a soother
of the former, and an enhancer .7f the latter.
allone but the married man has a home in his
old age; none hat; friends, then, but he; none but
he knows and fi.els th a n -,...!.ice .Ithe (I;l:nestle heart,
none but he lives anitcres.l."ri in b:4 green old age,
amid the affections of his thilit:-;ra. Tbero is no
tear shed for the old bachelor; there is no hind
hand and ready heart to cheer him in his loneline4
and bereavement; there is none in whose eyes Ito
can see himself reflected, and from whose lips ho
can receive the unfailing assurances of care and
love. No. The old bachelor may be courted for
his money. He may eat. and drink, and revel, as
such things do; and he may sicken and die in a
hotel or garret,with plenty of attendants about him,
like so many cormorants waiting for their prey.—
But ho will never know what it is to be loved—and
to live and to die amid a loved circle. He can never
mow the comforts of the domestic fireside."
DINNF.II ANEeTOTE.—Tho capabilities of a
boiled edgebone of beef, may be estimated from
what happened to Pope the actor, well known
for his devotion to the culinary art. He recei
ved an invitation to dinner, accompanied by an
apology for the simplicity of the intended fare—
a small turbot, and a boiled edgebono of beef—
“ The very things of all others that I like,” ex
claimed Pope; «I will come with the greatest
pleasure;" and come he did, and eat ho did, till ho
could literally cut no longer: when the word was
given, and a haunch of venison was brought
in, fat to be made the subject of a new poetical
epistle.
"For finer or fatter,
Never ranged in a forest or smoked on a platter,
The haunch was a picture for painters to study.
The fat was so white, and the loan was so ruddy."
Poor Pope divined at a glance the nature of the
trap that had been laid fur him, but ho was fairly
caught, and after a puny effort at trilling with a
slice of fat, ho laid down his knife and fork, and
gave way to a hysterical burst of tears, exclaiming,
"A friend of twenty years standing, and to be ser
ved in this manner."— Quarterly Review.
LOGIC CIA ss.—Chip of the old Block.—As a
specimen of the past utility of Logic Class in the
University of Edinburgh, an anecdote is ,current,
in which the son of a factious baronet, whose re
sidence is not five miles from town, acted a part
worthy of his descent. He was called up by the
worthy professor of the time, and asked the note.
ble question, "Can a man see without eyes'?" 'Yes,'
was the prompt answer. "How, sir'!" cried .the
amazed professor, ""can a man see without eyes?"
"Pray, sir, how do you make that out?" "Ho can leo
with one, sir," replied the ready-witted youth:, and
the whole class shouted with delight
,at the triumph
over tnetaphysics.—Loadon paper.
Dn. .Totts.:sos..—A pedantic young man who
eloteavored to imitate the superior writings of Dr.
Johnson, and had even considered himself in
sonic respects, his equal, one day said to the Dr.,
what do you slippage the world thinks of tisr
Why,"gays thn Dr. , "I suppow they think mo
ull dog, and you a tin kettle tied to my fait!."
trzsly r:riuous are altrall . r happy.
=MED