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No. 4.

Autumn.

103

In the same path is often found that ugly in itself, yet joined to other good qualities, is yellow flower, called Jealousy, which I wish worth them all put together. It is never you never to look at. Turn from it as fast as seen without being admired; and is most amipossible; for it has the strange quality of ting- able when not visible. They say “ virtue is ing the eye that beholds it with a stain which its own reward”-I am certain pride is its it seldom gets rid of.

own punishment. Flee from it as from contaAs you go in, you will meet with many lit-gion, which it strongly resembles. It infects tle crooked paths; but do not go into them. and corrupts. Cultivate, with all your care, I advise you, as a friend, never to attempt it; the humble plant now mentioned, as the best for though, at the entrance of each, is written antidote against this poisonous weed. in large letters, “In the right way,” when you Allow me here to drop a hint on the subject get in, in nine cases out of ten, you will find of cultivation, as that most probably will be the true name to be Perverseness, and that your employment. Should you be entrusted you are in the wrong, and will not acknow-with the rearing of a flower, remember two ledge it. This often occasions endless disputes things: first, that it is but a flower, however here; is a source of perpetual difference, and fair—frail in its nature, and fading at every sometimes of a final separation in the garden. || blast; and, secondly, that it is a flower in

Near this spot, you will meet with a sturdy, trust, for the cultivation of which you are acknotty plant, called Obstinacy, bearing a hard, countable to the owner of the garden. bitter fruit, which becomes fatal when taken Should you be a witness to a blast on its in large quantities. Turn from it; avoid it ||dawning beauties, o how your fluttering as you would the plague.

heart will bleed with tenderness. Let affecJust opposite to this, grows that lowly, love-||tion sympathize. Your feelings may be conly shrub Compliance; which, though not pleas-ceived, but they cannot be described. The ant to the palate, is salutary and sweet, and young shoot will naturally and insensibly produces the most delicious fruit in the gar-twine around the fibres of your frame. Should den. Never be without a sprig of it in your lit live and thrive, spare no pains to teach the hands; it will often be wanted as you go young production how to rise. Weed it, waalong; if you do not, you will surely repent ter it, prune it-it will need them all. Withthe want of it.

out this, many weeds will spring up and poiAll over the garden you may find a useful son the very soil on which it grows. plant, called Economy. It is a thriving qual

Remember this is a trust for which you are ity; take a good stock of it as you go in. It accountable to Him who gave it. That you adorns and enriches at the same time. Many may be blest with the sweetest production of entirely overlook it, some despise it, and oth-this garden—that they may be the delight of ers think they do not want it. It is generally | your eyes, and that you and they, when the forgotten in the hurry and gayety with which summer of this life is over, may be transpeople enter this place, but the total want of planted to some happier soil, and flourish in imit is commonly paid for with bitter repentance. mortal vigor, in perfect and permanent felicity,

I must tell you, unless both partake of it, is the sincere wish of your affectionate friend. it will answer little end to either. You may, if you please, carry some with you into the garden: but it is a hundred to one, if you do not

AUTUMN. lose it going in. This is more useful than you Though the chill winds of the lake at will find there—for it is of another sort. Pro-times, sharpened by traversing hundreds of vide yourself and partner with a proper quanti-miles without feeling the warm breath of ty of it, as soon as you can, when in the place. | mother earth, are like agues to the nerves,

You observe, as you pass, two or three for many a day in this region,—yet there are paths, which run much into one another-1 mingled even here with the moods of antumn, mean those of Regularity, Exactness, and many of the warmest beauties of more fervent Neatness. Do not think, as many do, that|climes. An autumn upon lake Erie, though when once you are in, you may be care-l not one of constant, benevolent temperament, less of your person and dress. Remember, like one in the more favored climes of the your companion will see some that are not so more southerly states, has nevertheless, in its

-this difference will strike his eye, if not of very inconsistency, a transition and contrast fend it. Enter those paths almost as soon as of beauties and pleasures, which makes it to you enter the garden; and, take my word for us, a more desirable abiding place than any it, if you do, you will never get out of them;| under which we have ever lived. once fairly in, you are in for life—and the If the chill air of the evenings is more worst of it is, that if you do not find them prevalent than in any other longitudes upon soon, you will never find them afterwards.

the same parallel of latitude, there are, notNear this walk, is found that invaluable withstanding, nights when the moon seems shrub, Humility. This, though of no worth'to shed a warmth with her light, and the

104

Autumn-Flowers.

Vol. II.

mourn'd,

H

very lake breezes seem to come loaded with | frequent meetings, under the title of “The a warmth like summer. Such have we seen || Literary and Social Fraternity.”. during the present week. And even when Soon after the formation of the club, one the sharp frosty wind from the north, or the of the members took a journey to the west. chill damp breeze from the southwest, forbid | Returning, after an absence of two years, he the contemplative to walk abroad in the met his brethren of the Fraternity. The evening, they give a new and active buoy- greeting was enthusiastic, and the following ancy to the hilarity within doors, and make lines were one of the spontaneous offerings the fireside the focus of a thousand charms, on the joyous occasion. The beauty of autumn scenery, in our

Thrice welcome the friend whose long absence we country, is upon the page of every foreign traveler ;-and now, when

Our breasts glow with rapture to find him return'd; Her breath hath tinged the grove with red The Fraternity claim'd him as one of the few, And strew'd the vale with yellow,

Whose hearts are to Friendship unchangeably true; And every leaf reclines its head

For though wandering afar we remember'd him still, Beside its withering fellow,

And a chair was reserved for the exile to fill; And Nature, looking round her,

Yes, with honor to fill, for in days that are fled, Rends the green robe that bound her;

Dis genius on us a refulgence has shed. * Now when the green, the yellow, the crim-| And tho' care may have left a slight trace on his brow, son, and the russet, are struggling for supre- The bright smile of friendship around him shall play,

As on that of the bard who addresses you now; macy, in the foliage of the whole wilderness, -with all its chills—with all its damps-we

And light up his heart with its soul-touching ray. would almost pray that autumn might last forever. But the bounty of the God of the year,

FLOWERS. whose chosen era of ripe rewards for all the

“Flowers, of all created things, the most toils and privations of other seasons, is fixed || innocently simple, and most superbly comamong the fading bu brilliant beauties of ||plex-playthings for childhood, ornaments of autumn, is most worthy the aspirations of a the grave, and companions of the cold corpse grateful and sympathetic heart. And in noin the coffin! Flowers, beloved by the wanautumn more than the present has that dering idiot, and studied by the deep thinking bounty been so infinitely above the desert of man of science! Flowers that, of perishing the human family. On every side we see things, are the most heavenly. Flowers that the smiles of plenty, and on every hand we unceasingly expand to Heaven their grateful, hear the sounds of joy, at the goodness of and to man their cheerful looks-partners of that hand that has met us in our complaints, human joy; soothers of human sorrow; fit and silenced our ingratitude, by the fruits of emblems of the victor's triumphs, of the young a most ample and abundant harvesi.

bride's blushes;-welcome to the crowded From this wilderness of bounty, the little halls, and graceful upon solitary graves ! that man really wants, is easily gathered. Flowers are in the volume of nature, what With a prudent hand, and a strong guard the expression "God is love,' is in the volume against those artificial wants which constitute of revelation. What a desolate place would the misery of our existence, the season of be a world without a flower! It would be a autumn always opens the door to competence, | face without a smile—a feast without a welthrough which the most needy of our race may come. Are not flowers the stars of the earth, arrive at the summit of rational happiness. and are not our stars the flowers of Heaven?

One cannot look closely at the structure of a PHILADELPHIA LITERARY ASSOCIATION. flower without loving it. They are emblems

In 1823, several of the original members of and manifestations of God's love to the creathe Philadelphia Literary Association, formed tion, and they are the means and ministrations themselves into a club, with the following of man's love to his fellow-creatures; for they declaration of their objects.

first awaken in his mind a sense of the beauThe cultivation of the social affections tiful and good. The very inutility of flowers tends not only to give a charm to life, but to is their excellence and great beauty; for they dignify our nature, for in proportion as we be- | lead us to thoughts of generosity and moral come interested in each other, our selfish feel- || beauty, detached from and superior to all ings abate, and we approach more nearly the selfishness; so that they are pretty lessons in attributes of that Being whose love is universal. I nature's book of instruction, teaching man that

Influenced by this consideration, as well as he liveth not by bread or from bread alone, a desire of improving our mental faculties, by || but that he hath another than an animal lise." a liberal discussion of subjects of general use

* He was an able writer for the Philadelphia Literary fulness, the undersigned have agreed to hold || Association

THE LADIES' GARLAND.

Vol. II.

A WREATH OF MANY FLOWERS.

No. 5.

THE SE P'ARA TION. premises, which were the extreme prospect,
BY REV. J. YOUNG,

except a very limited view of distant scenery Of the Wesleyan Methodist Conference on the right, and a still less extent of a pub“Oh, what is death ?—'Tis life's last shore, lic road leading to the town, on the left. Yet Where vanities are vain no more;

more than this, Laura wished not. She had, Where all pursuits their good obtain; Where life is all retouched again;

at a period when most females possess the Where, in their bright results, shall rise greatest measure of hilarity of spirit, sunk Thoughts, virtues, friendships, loves, and joys."

into a degree of pensiveness, except on some

Gambold. Oh, what a change will not a few hours extraordinary and brief occasions, which proeffect !" sighed out an almost broken hearted duced a species of distaste to society. She female, as she paced, with hurried steps and

had experienced no ordinary shock at the agonized feelings, little short of maniacal, her loss of her mother, and such a mother as few, lonely chamber. “ This last wrench has cli- comparatively, have known; she was such a maxed my sufferings, and given the final stab one, as few, possessing almost an infinitely to my already shattered peace.” She pressed

less degree of sensibility than Laura didone hand to her throbbing forehead, and, with who, in fact, was all sensibility—could have the other, drew forth her hankerchief, and lost

, without deeply deploring her. wiped away the tears of agony which rolled

The wound which her mind from this cirdown her pale cheek, and then, sinking into cumstance had received, was yet unhealed, a chair, unable longer to restrain the almost when another, laceratingly painful, was inchoaking grief under which she labored, ex-flicted on it; and inflicted, too, by the hand of claimed in sorrow's deepest tone,“O my own, a dastard, who ought to have shielded her my dear, dear Eustace, are we indeed torn from another pang, even at the hazard of his from each other forever?" Nature sunk be- own existence. But he had not soul enough neath its own violent emotions, and the deli- to know her worth, or the craven spirit which cate frame of the devoted Laura fainted under he displayed would have been exchanged for it.

the noble and unbending conduct of a man of Laura was the youngest daughter of a gen-| truth and honor. Such conduct, because of tleman of family in the north of Scotland, || its frequency and consequences, deserves all whose residence was at the foot of a lofty| the reprehension which the strongest language ridge of mountains, called the Pentland Hills, can express. The miscreants are pests to sowhich rise about four miles west of Edin-| ciety, and should be scouted from it. Freezburgh, and extend a considerable distance to-ing pity, and burning execration, are sooner wards the western boundary of Mid-Lothian. or later their wretched possession. Here the gentle Laura resided with her wid From these repeated attacks, acting powowed father, and, by her assiduities and|erfully on a delicate constitution, and a class sprightly intelligence, formed the principal of feelings so finely strung, that, like the Æosource of the enjoyment which he knew.- ||lian harp, which sends forth plaintive music The house which they occupied stood in al at the softest breeze, trembled at every touch; retired situation. A small green plat, with || she writhed beneath mental throes of the most two or three waving poplars, filled the front" violent character, and hence too it was, that a GAR.-Vol. II.- No. 5.

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106

The Separation.

VOL. II.

melancholy tinge-foreign to her natural | sorrows, than she had experienced towards temperament—had infected her, making the himself. quiet seclusion of the family dwelling to pos Time rolled on, and every passing period sess more charms for her, than all the gay || rendered the interviews of Eustace and scenes of London, Venice, or Paris could have | Laura more pleasurable to each. Eustace beafforded.

came a favorite with her father, and a frequent Here, day after day, and week after week, || visitor at their retired dwelling. Friendship the mourning Laura brooded over her sorrows | of the purest, most disinterested and lofty and her wrongs. Her wrongs! Yes, her|| kind, possessed each of them, and in the exwrongs !—but she conceived not so of them; || ercise of that sacred feeling, they strove to her kind and noble nature thought of them by advance each other's best interests. another, by a milder name-for, she was used Kind solicitudes for the mutual welfare of to say, “I cannot disesteem that which I once each other, and their endeavors to promote it, loved." The chief and almost only pleasure were not uselessly employed. The advice she now enjoyed arose from the interest which || and exhortations of Eustace were rendered she took in affording instruction to some few salutary to the mind of Laura, while the counchildren of the poor around her, and occasion-sel and kindness of Laura did not become less ally visiting the chamber of sickness, or the beneficial to Eustace. In their experience, abodes of want and wretchedness.

the imaginings of the poet found the subThat gracious Being, however, whose "ten- stance had airily conceived of, while the der mercies are over all his works,” and who cold and insincere formalities of professing delights not in the unhappiness of any of his friends, might have been fired by its contemcreatures, marked with compassion her “ life- || plation, or have been made to blush at its sapping” sorrow; and, at the moment when comparison. the bereavement and disappointment which Time rolled on, and still their friendship she had met with, were pressing upon the grew, without either knowing, or even convery vitals of her existence, and threatening ceiving, that a softer passion might possibly speedy death, He, in the order of His provi-||succeed. If the thought might at any time ocdence, brought her acquainted with one, whose curto them, Laura believed it impossible on her union of spirit with her own, and similarity | own part, while Eustace even dreaded its exof circumstances in some of their darkest ||istence. Each possessed, in the company of shades, through which she had passed, not the other, all they wished to enjoy, and all, only tended greatly to rouse her languid pow- they knew, they could possess. ers, but threw around her path once more, Laura had lately, in company with a young some of the fascinations of life, bringing grad- | lady of her acquaintance, visited an interestually and by degrees, into full play, those vi- || ing invalid, a few miles from home. For two vid sensibilities of her nature, which she had || years she had been gradually, but perceptibly, hastily imagined were destroyed for ever. sinking; and now, was fast hastening to that

A variety of circumstances, perfectly nat-home “where the wicked cease from trouural, and yet equally unforseen and unexpect-|bling, and where the weary are at rest.” A ed, brought them frequently together. A request had been made by her parents, through nameless something, in the habits and spirits Laura's friend, that Eustace would likewise of Eustace, led the sympathizing Laura to visit her: to this request he cheerfully conconceive that some blighting affliction had sented; and, in company with the ladies, he produced a reservation, bordering on gloomi- walked to the house of affliction. ness, in her friend, which elicited from her, It was a fine evening, towards the latter numberless acts of kindness, the result of | end of May, when the party set forth on their friendship in its purest character. What, in- errand of Christian love; and, as they walked deed, may have been the circumstances of onwards, the beauty of the scenery, the Eustace, even conjecture has not developed. charms of nature, and the goodness of Him Whatever they might have been, it was fully from whom cometh every good and every perevident to the searching eye and sensitive | fect gift, intermingled with remarks relative solicitude of Laura, they had been of a rough to piety, of an individual and practical charand destructive character, and that was suffi- | acter, occupied their thoughts, and furnished cient with her to produce a strong desire in them with abundance of the most interesting her mind to serve him. Retiring as Eustace matter for conversation, until they reached was in his general habits, and cold and distant the house. as were even his civilities, if he possessed The situation of the place was most roman. any, still he was far from being indifferent to tic. The house stood on a level spot, more the kind sympathies of the attentive Laura ; than half way down a deep glen, and was surand as he became gradually acquainted with rounded by some ninety or hundred acres of her history, he felt no less a measure of sym- || rich pasture and meadow land, every part of pathy for her, and a desire to alleviate her || which was now in a high state of cultivation.

she

No. 5.
The Separation.

107 The visitors had already reached the brow of beauty. A deep hectic flush played upon her the lofty hill which rose above the dwelling, || cheeks, her lips were of an ashy paleness, and were gently proceeding when Eustace, and her dim eyes were sunk deep in their who was an enthusiastic admirer of nature, || sockets. Occasionally, a distressing cough in all her varied forms, stood still, to gaze seemed to tear her shattered system, while awhile on the wide and fascinating prospect her faint and tremulous voice was scarcely which was spread before him.

audible. On their right, and partly before them, lay Immediately opposite the place where she à rich and extensive valley, in the bed of || sat, stood a rude sort of sofa, which she had which, winding in serpentine forms, flowed a occasionally used as such, on which to rest beautiful river. Occasionally its waters were her weak frame. There, Laura took her seat hid behind jutting plots of land, and then, with her companion; while Eustace drew a again, broke forth to the sight, looking like chair close to the youthful sufferer, and strove a rich mirror embossed in a frame of emerald, || to instruct and comfort her. The sinfulness as the sun rested upon its surface, and the of human nature, the atonement of the Sasloping pastures hemmed it in on either side. viour, and the way to God through faith in that Here and there, as if to relieve the eye, and blood, were the things upon which by turns give a picturesque effect to the scenery, a he dwelt. Tears flowed plentifully from the rustic bridge was discovered, spanning the sinking penitent's eyes, as he spoke to her, stream, and forming a medium of communi- and exhibited the cheering evidences of the cation to the several inhabitants of the coun- || Saviour's mercy, and expatiated on the peace try.

and happiness of a better world. He then In the front distance, a vast extent of hilly took the Holy Scriptures, and read from its country stretched as far as the eye could ex- sacred contents, and afterwards in solemn tend its power of vision, while some rude and prayer commended her to God. precipitous chasms, and abrupt and lofty ac During the period that Eustace was hangclivities, diversified the view. On the left, a ing over the invalid, and pointing out to her portion of unequal land was terminated by a the way of salvation, the eye of Laura was dark copse of fir, birch, and oak trees, grow-fixed upon him with unmoving attention; ing on the side and summit of another hill, || listened with an interest beyond what she had even loftier than that on which Eustace and ever before experienced. At times a silent his companions stood. A humble dwelling tear stole down her cheek, and told the powor two graced different parts of the scene, and il erful feelings of her mind. At length, unalower down the valley, in the extreme pros- ble longer to contain her emotions, she rose, pective, a few scattered houses, with a glit- and walked out by herself into a small padtering village kirk spire, might be discovered. dock, which lay through a little garden adNot a cloud stood in the heavens. The sun joining the house, and there gave uncontrolled gave a gorgeous brilliancy to every object, |vent to her feelings. Eustace had marked her while a cooling breeze played round the tops grief, and now observed her departure. Afof the mountains, giving a cheering freshness ter waiting with anxiety for her return, he to the atmosphere.

felt alarmed at her absence, and walked out Eustace was enraptured. Again and again, to seek her. It was some time, however, he pointed out the objects as they rose before before he could ascertain the way she had him to Laura; and then, with emotions which taken. At length he discovered her at a discould not be expressed, feeling the sublime tance, evidently almost overcome by the feellanguage of Thomson, mentally exclaimed, |ings under which she labored. He instantly

passed hastily through the garden towards God is ever present, ever felt,

her. She turned, and, seeing him approachIn the wide waste, as in the city full

ing, motioned with her hand for him to go

back. With reluctance he obeyed, and, enWhere universal love nor smiles around,

tering again the house, made such an apology Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;

for her as seemed necessary, and, shortly From seeming evil still educing good,

afterwards, with Laura's female friend, bade And better thence again, and better still,

its inhabitants far and hasted to join In infinite progression. But I loose

her. Myself in Him, in Light ineffable ;

The road by which they returned was in anCome then, expressive silence, muse His praise.

other direction from that by which they came. The party moved on, and soon reached the |A lofty hill lay before them. Laura leaned habitation of the invalid.

on Eustace's arm, as they ascended, while her The ladies entered, and Eustace followed. || female companion, like a bounding roe, skipThere sat a form, wasted by slow consump-ped on before them. They gained the sumtion, which had once been lovely, and which mit, and again gazed with admiration on the even now retained some relics of formerll gorgeous scenery. But, while they gazed

*

* I cannot go

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