No. 4. A Child's First Impression of a Star.-Jane Howard.

She politely requested that he would desist from such language while she remained on board the vessel, to which he immediately consented, with a deep chagrin. During the remainder of the voyage, the Captain's attention to Jane was rather increased than diminished. He spent much of his time in her company, charmed and delighted with the modesty of her deportment, and the fascinating spell of her instructive conversation; but not another oath was he heard to utter, until || they arrived in Charleston. They were now

I will not attempt to describe the feelings produced by this unexpected meeting. Suffice it to say, that the minister was invited home with them, and during the winter his visits were neither few nor far between. In

the spring he married Miss Jane, and they are now on a missionary tour among the dark benighted sons of India, where the blessing of Heaven is attending their labors in a wonderful manner, and many souls have been brought to a saving knowledge through their instrumentality.

THE PRAYER.

FROM THE GERMAN.

Cornelia was the joy and pride of her parents. For she was beautiful in form, like a ray of light, and her cheeks bloomed like the young rose, when it receives the dew for the first time.

Cornelia was a stranger to the difficulties and troubles of life, and the days of her youth were serene. But behold! Her mother became sick, and she lay for many days, and grew very weak :-for the fever was high, and her mind became disordered. And the maiden spent the night awake by the bed of her sick mother, and refreshed her, and moved about in careful silence and secret anguish.

From the Southern Literary Messenger.
PONCE DE LEON:

HIS QUEST AFTER THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH.

There is no incident in the early history of our country more affecting than that contained in the simple account given by Irving, of the search, by Ponce de Leon, for the Fountain of Youth, which resulted in the discovery of Florida. It attaches a peculiar interest to the career of that adventurous man, who passed from the noise and tumult of a crowded camp to the unbroken stillness of our primeval forests. Had he been some wild and harebrained youth, whose imagination had been heated by tales of chivalry and adventure, we might only laugh at his folly; but when we find that he was an experienced and hardy warrior, celebrated for his prowess at the siege of Granada, and conversant with courts, surprise and admiration are blent together; and we trace the spirit of the age in the conduct of this hardy warrior. The discovery of a New World, that startling fact, awoke the minds of men from the long slumber of satisfied ignorance-the strange and wild tales of the sun-burnt mariners, who wandered back, heated their fancies,—until at length no tale connected with the New World could be so monstrous and incredible as not to secure some degree of credence; and a craving for and adventure was excited in many of the most gallant spirits of the time. Ponce was not behind his age; neither was he in advance of it; the conquest of the Moors had given peace to Spain, and the warrior was tasting the sweets of repose, when he heard of this marvelous fountain which could restore him who drank of it to a second youth; his adventurous spirit was aroused; and buckling on his armor, he set forth and found not the coveted fountain he sought, but that quiet resting place of all earth's children-the grave. And has not his quest in one sense been acAnd the joy of the maiden's heart was in-complished? Has it not given an immortalconceivable. And Cornelia went softly out of the chamber, and ran into the field and stood on a hill at the time of twilight. Here she stood agitated with many struggling emotions of grief and hope. And the first beams of the morning sun rose and shone on her countenance, and Cornelia now thought of the new life of her mother after a reviving sleep, and of the anguish she had felt. But she could no longer contain in her heart the fulness of her feelings; she knelt down on the flowers of the hill, and bowed her face, and her tears mingled with the dew of hea

And on the seventh day the fever was higher than ever, and there was a stillness in the chamber, and a secret weeping. For every one thought that death was near.

But in the night came the long-sought sleep, and revived the mother; life returned. And Cornelia sat on the bed, and listened to her breathing, through the whole night, and her soul was anxious in hope.

When the day appeared, the mother opened her eyes and said :-"It is well with me, I shall recover!" And she ate and drank and slept again.

ity to a name which otherwise might never have been known, beyond the Spanish hamlet where his bones reposed? and is not his name, now and forever, identified with the "land of flowers," whither his fiery spirit led him-to die?

In this age of scoffing and skepticism, when men, arrogantly proud of their own puny powers, mock the ideal, and seek to convert this glorious world, with its matchless panorama of sea and sky, mountain and plain, into a mere workshop and laboratory, and would degrade man, who was created in the image of his God, into a mere automaton and aniThen she raised her head, and returned to mated engine, it is pleasant to turn to the wild her home and the chamber of her mother. errors of a man like this, who, even if he did And Cornelia was more lovely and beautiful err, was led astray by vague but lofty cravings than ever. For she had communed with God."after the Unknown and the Infinite.

ven.

He deceived himself, as well as others; and the faith must indeed have been strong which could lead him over the wild waste of waters into the midst of enemies. The energy with which he prosecuted the search, proves the untiring and indomitable spirit of the man.

came, plenty and peace, and left behind them desolation and ruin; whose first and last question of the natives was "Give us gold;" and contemplate the career of Ponce De Leon, whose hands were not stained with blood, nor his soul with crime; who sought not power nor gold, but the "Fountain of Youth." Wild dreamer that he was. Even had the fountain he sought been found, would it not have been the height of folly to have dipped his lips within it? Had he found life so great a boon, that he wished to prolong his term of existence? or was it youth only that he coveted? Trembling, as he was on the verge of the grave, did he hope to renew the joys of his youth, when they who had shared with him the cares and pleasures of the former time were sleeping the sleep of death? Or did he vainly think to transfer to those he

Let us picture to ourselves the image of the wild enthusiast! Scarred with the trophies of many a hard-fought field-scorched with the summer's sun-and worn with watching and with dangers-surrounded by savage and subtle foes, whose wild whoop broke upon the stillness of night, and woke him from dreams of his distant home;-yet calm, fearless, and self-possessed; animating and inspiring the courage of his drooping followers, and confident each day, that his goal was nearly won: and we cannot refrain from admiring his courage, and envying him the delusion which gave him so much happiness. How far supe-loved and cherished the same boon of unfading rior the spirit which animated him, to that youth? Might he not have known that it is which swayed his contemporaries! With one of the kindest gifts of our Creator to disBalboa, Pizarro, Almagro and Cortes, two miss us from this world, when we have run passions were predominant-the love of pow- the brief career for which we were destined? er, and the lust of gold. Hard, iron, pitiless And what curse could be more terrible, than men, whom neither love nor pity, the wail of that which the fancy of the poet has feigned mothers, nor the mute agony of patriots, could of the wandering Jew, roving for ever over a turn from their designs; yet fawning and kind world to him but the tomb of buried hopes, at times, to delude their victims-graceful and cut off from that solace to those whose and subtle as tigers, and as ravenous in their|| burden is heavier than they can bear-the thirst for blood. To the simple Indian, who hope of death! And yet, the sentiment which first hailed the white man as a being from animated that lone voyager was a high and a some higher sphere-who cherished him in noble one; the dim aspiring of a spirit which his bark-covered hut, and fed him on the pro- soared beyond the narrow circle of the duct of his hunting, how startling must have known; of an imagination, which, if rebeen the discovery that he had cherished in strained and cultivated, might have made a his bosom the serpent which was to sting "Poet for Eternity.' And is not the wish away his life. The annals of human crime, which prompted him, common to humanity? dark as they are, do not possess a blacker page Does not every man look back, mournfully, than that on which is recorded the deeds of upon his vanished years, and long to recall the early discoverers. It seemed as though them? Does he not think how much he these men, on breaking loose from the re- could perform-how many errors he would straint of civilized society, shook off all feel-avoid-and recur with lingering fondness to ings of nature and humanity, and grew drunk the halcyon days of his youth? And thus do with crime. Kindness, charity, benevolence, we not all grasp at the same shadow which even interest, finally seemed to be merged in the visionary Spaniard followed? and is not the savage thirst for blood; but retribution our illusion almost as great as his? For is came; and these monsters, against whose youth, indeed the happiest period of existence? steel-clad breasts the idle arrows of the In- or, is it not distance that "lends enchantment dian rattled in vain, perished by each other's to the view?" As, in viewing from afar some hands, in drunken revels, and midnight brawls. || lovely prospect, we see the verdant mountainSuch were the men who first adventured to side clad in the rich livery of spring, musical our shores, wild desperadoes cut off from all with the warbling of birds, and gushing of hope at home, and reckless of man or God! waters, and bathed in the rich glow of the One merit they did possess: that of dauntless setting sun; charming our eyes like an earthly courage! See Cortes and his little band in elysium. We approach the spot; grim crags the capital of Mexico, hemmed in by thou- impend about us; the swollen torrent rushes sands of enemies, yet triumphing at last over down the mountain side, threatening to enthese countless hordes, by the energy of his gulph us; from the green thicket above, glares iron will, which knew not fear-a memorable the eye of the tiger, and foul and venimous instance of the mastery of moral superiority things crawl in the grass at our feet. over mere physical force. Turn from these blood-stained men, who found, when they

Thus it is with youth. We note its gallant bearing and joyous laugh--we recall to mem

covery of a New World! Of Ponce De Leon then may be said what would equally be applied to many who have filled a far larger space in the estimation of the world: that

THE MOURNER.

ory hours of rapture and of joy-sunny spots in the waste of life; but we remember not the hours and days of agony with which those joys were purchased and succeeded. Let us look back-gaze steadily into the magic mir-||" His life was the chase of a flying shadow, ror of the past, and look upon the picture it which rested not, until it slept in gloom and presents. We see the sanguine youth, just forever, upon his grave." E. D. emerging into the world, casting off the careColumbia, S. C., 1842. less indifference of boyhood, and starting forward on his career with heart elate and full of confidence. He feels within his breast the power of intellect and energy of will; he burns to emulate the great of old, and to achieve a name for himself. Men, he regards "It is very lonely, mother," murmured a as brothers; and women as angels. But this fair haired, lovely girl, as she rested upon the freshness of feeling fades and withers in the sofa one evening, "it is lonely now, and the hot atmosphere of the world. He sees un-nights seem very long. Shall I never see folded suddenly to his view a vast theatre of father more?" fraud, corruption and selfishness; the chosen friend of his boyhood deceives and deserts him; the idol of his affections leaves him for a wealthier suitor; his eyes are opened from the ideal to the real; and, in the first bitter revulsion of feeling, he loathes all mankind. But time undeceives him; he finds that truth lies between these two extremnes; but this lesson is not learned until manhood has

"Yes, my love, you will see him again in a brighter world than this,"

"But this is a fair world, said the little girl, "I love to run and play in the sunshine; and pick the water cresses from the brooks; and when the weather is a little warmer, I shall go down and gather the blue-eyed violet, that father said was like me,"

66

"Too like, I fear," said the mother, as the crystal tear trembled on the drooping lid.But my dear child, there is a fairer world than this, where flowers never fade; where clouds never hide the light of that glorious sky; for the glory of Him whose name is Love, beams brightly and forever in those golden courts; the trees which grow on the banks of the river which waters that blessed place, never fade as they do in this world, and when friends meet there, they will be parted no more, but sing hymns of praise to God and the Lamb forever!"

"And shall I go to that happy place when die? and will you go home with me?" said the little child.

I

"Yes," said the mother, "we shall both go in God's own time; when he calls us from this life, we shall dwell in his presence."

brought experience; and it is only through this weary path that the youth can attain to "knowledge of the world"—of all knowledge that passeth not understanding, the most useful in our pilgrimage here below. Youth, then, is the period of probation. On recurring to it we remember only the bright scenes which burst upon our view when life was young; but we recall not the long and wasting agony of hope deferred-the alternate flushing of hope and fear-the wild dreams of future distinction-the hours of langor and depression, when the conviction of failure would press heavily upon us-or the sudden tolling of the passing bell, would preach its solemn lesson of the fleeting stay of man on earth. No; we repeat that the even and steady pulse of manhood, whose feelings are regulated by reason, never can feel those wild It was but a little while, and the mother alternations of agony and rapture, which bent over the grave of this pale flower of inthrill through the rapid pulse of youth. And tellect, withered by the untimely frost of the "sleepless boy," who perished by his own death. But was she alone, when, in twilight rash hand, is but a type of many who have shade, she sat upon the grassy mound, where endured the same tortures, but passed un- the deep and yearning hopes of that fond scathed through the trial. Yet every day heart were gathered in oblivious silence?from the lips of manhood we hear the queru-Oh, no. The soft and silvery tones of buried lous lament for departed youth. As well love whispered in the breeze that lifted the might the racer, who has reached the goal, drooping flowers o'ercharged with dewy tears repine that his sinews were not still stretched of night. The diamond stars, that one by to their utmost tension, in the fierce excite-one came forth upon their shining watch, ment of the race! Why then should we seemed beaming with the light of that deathscoff at the visionary Spaniard, for seeking less flame, which burned undimmed upon the that which all desire? for he must have been inmost shrine of her heart; and she enjoyed, far in advance of his age had he not credited in the holy hours of solitude, that communion the tradition; and what could seem strange or of pure spirits, which our exalted faith can marvelous after the wondrous fact of the dis-"bestow.

THE LADIES' GARLAND.

Written for the Ladies' Garland.

LIVING WATERS.

A MOST BEAUTIFUL REPLY.

Not many months since, while a number of young people were discoursing upon the easiest mode of leaving the world, whether by drowning, freezing, or otherwise, were VOL. VI.-No. 5.-Nov. 1842.