Hymn to the Flowers–Picture of Consumption.

Vol. II.

wild glens of Switzerland, and the lovely villas of romantic Spain, again ascended the poet's breathings, free as their mountain air. The very crusades themselves, by furnishing the materials from which to weave their gorgeous fictions of the imagination, and by making the Crusaders acquainted with all the glowing imagery and fanciful decorations of oriental literature, gave an impulse to letters which will never cease till man shall cease to appreciate and admire the beautiful and the sublime. Can it be, then, that the Crusades retarded the progress of literature? Rather, they cherished and promoted it, when the last flicker of the fire upon her altar had nearly expired, in sadness and in gloom. Such were the old wars, their causes and their effects; and our feelings and sympathies cannot but be gratified at their final success.

For the Ladies' Garland.

SIR,--I beg you to transplant the following exquisitely beautiful “pot pourri" into your interesting pages, and oblige A Constant READER.


Day stars! that ope your eyes with man, to twinkle
From rainbow galaxies of earth's creation,
And dew-drops on her lonely altars sprinkle
As a libation—

Ye nation worshippers' who, bending lowly,
Before the uprisen sun, God's lidless eye,
Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy
Incense on highl

Ye bright Mosaics! that with storied beauty,
The floor of Nature's temple tessellate,
What numerous emblems of instructive duty,
Your forms create |

'Neath cloister'd boughs, each floral bell that swingeth,
And tolls its perfume on the passing air,
Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth
A call to prayer

Not to the domes, where crumbling arch and column
Attest the feebleness of mortal hand,
But to that Fane, most Catholic and solemn,
Which Heaven hath plann’d—

To that Cathedral, boundless as our wonder,
Whose quenchless lamps, the sun and moon supply;
Its choir, the winds and waves; its organ, thunder;
Its dome, the sky!

There, as in solitude and shade, I wander
Through the green aisles, or stretch'd upon the sod,
Aw'd by the silence, reverently ponder
The ways of God—

Your voiceless lips, O flowers! are living preachers!
Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book,

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She withered slowly. It was like the fading away of one of those flowers I had Îoved in my childhood—gradual yet perceptible; not blasted at once, like a blossom, broken from the bough, or crushed down by the heedless foot, but calmly, gently, as the leaf fades under the ceaseless march of time. How often have I marked, upon the green woods and forest covered hills, the brown shadows of Autumn creep on day by day—so gradually, so gently deepening the tints, and stealing the fresh hues of summer, that from one hour to another the eye can detect no change in the green children of the spring, and yet each moment adds something to their decay; each day brings them nearer to the fall. Thus faded my beloved.

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No. 11.

Ledyard’s Praise of Woman—Rules for the Nursery.


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a source of pleasure to each other; this will promote brotherly harmony and love. 5. Some persons are apt, in order to induce children to take their food, to say, “come, my dear, make haste, or brother, (or sister,) shall have it; no, no, brother, you shall have it indeed!”. Now every expression of this kind should be avoided; for it will infallibly create selfishness and greediness. A directly opposite conduct must be enforced; and children must be taught, as much as possible, to find their chief happiness in promoting the pleasure of their brothers and sisters—even if by the sacrifice of their own. 6. If a reward has been prepared for a child, in expectation of its behaving well, and this expectation has not been realized, never seek to increase the pain, (necessarily felt in not receiving the reward,) by bestowing it on a brother or sister; such conduct is calculated to excite an envy in the breast of the naughty child; and will most probably induce the good one to rejoice in the other's bad conduct. 7. On no account deceive children, either by word or deed. 8. If, to induce children to comply with your wishes, they have been promised to have something given to or done for them, let the promise be strictly fulfilled. This injunction must, of course, make you cautious in regard to promises. 9. Never suffer children to speak incorrectly, either in earnest or in play. If, on any occasion, they deviate in the slightest degree from truth, always set them right; and let the plain truth be always spoken to, and required of them. 10. Never mention any thing in their presence likely in the smallest degree to frighten them. 11. Never commend any thing, either in their persons or dress, except the appearance of good humor in the one, and of cleanliness and neatness in the other; praises of the first will excite personal vanity—and of the second, will induce them to set an undue value on things, (in themselves) of little importance. 12. Carefully avoid doing anything before or saying any thing to them, which can possibly weaken their love and respect toward their parents.-[From Woman, as Virgin, Wife, and Mother.

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How sweet the landscape! Morning twines
Her tresses round the brow of Day,
And bright mists o'er the forest pines,
Like happy spirits, float away
To revel on the mountain's crown,
Whence the gladstream comes shouting down,
Through woods and rocks, that hang on high,
Like clouds against the deep blue sky.

The woven sounds of bird and stream,
Are falling beautiful and deep
Upon the spirit, like a dream
Of music on the hour of sleep—
And gently from the dewy bowers,
Soft murmurs, like the breath of flowers,
Are winding through the purple grove,
And blending with the notes of Love.

The streams in veins of silver flow—
The sunrise gale o'er flower and tree
So lightly breathes, it scarce would blow .
A fairy bark upon the sea:—
It comes so fresh, so calm, so sweet,
It draws the heart from its retreat,
To mingle with the glories, born
In the first holy light of morn.
A cloud is on the sky above—
And calmly o'er the young year's blue,
'Tis coming #. a thing of Love
To gladden in the rising dew—
Its white waves in the sunlight blend,
And gentle spirits seem to bend
From its unrolling folds, to hear
The glad sounds from our joyous sphere.

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Truth is the glory of time, and the daughter of eternity; a title of the highest ce, and a note of divine nature; she is the life of religion; the light of love; the grace of wit, and the crown of wisdom; she is the beauty of valor, the brightness of honor, the blessing of wisdom, and the joy of faith; her truth is pure gold, her time is right precious, her word is most gracious, and her will is most glorious; her essence is in God, and her dwelling with his servants; her will is his wisdom, and her work is to his glory; she is honored in love, and graced in constancy; in patience admired, and in charity beloved; she is the angel's worship, the virgin's fame, the saint's bliss, and the martyr's crown; she is the king's greatness, and his council's goodness; his subjects' peace, and his kingdom's praise; she is the life, learning, and the light of the law; the honor of trade, and the grace of labor; she hath a pure eye, a plain hand, a piercing wit, and a persect heart; she is wisdom's walk in the way of holiness, and takes up her rest but in the resolution of goodness; her tongue never trips, her heart never faints, her hand never falls, and her faith never fears; her church is without schism, her city without fraud, her court without vanity, and her kingdom without villainy. In short, so infinite is her excellence in the construction of all sense, that I will thus only conclude in the wonder of her worth :—She is the nature of perfection in the perfection of nature, where God in love shows the glory of christianity.

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A P P E A L T O F E M A L E S. By MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. “We are verily guilty concerning our brother.” WHEN to expunge a foul blot from national character, the great, the wise, and benevolent, combine their energies, it becomes not those of humble name, or obscure station, to remain indifferent. The weaker sex, who depend for safety and protection on others, have immense interests at stake, in the morality and purity of the community. Their plea of want of power can scarcely be admitted as a fair release from responsibility, since the moralists, and even the politicians, of our own day, have asserted that no evil can obtain great predominance in the community without the permission of females. . The cause of temperance, which has already wrought such wonders, and has still a giant's work to perform, claims their earnest co-operation. Surely they whose duties and felicities are involved in the domestic and maternal relations, should be peculiarly and painfully watchful against every approach of a sin which desecrates home's hallowed sanctuary. We do not, of course, address those who have given their hand to the destroyer—who, in the strong language of inspiration, have “made a covenant with the grave, and with hell are at agreement.” We are sensible that scarcely any agent, save the voice of Him who raiseth the dead, is available to break their bondage. But they who, with regard to this insidious poison, literally obey the precept, “touch not, taste not, handle not,” and suppose themselves absolved from all other effort—are they therefore absolved 2 My sisters, if we assent to the proposition that not to prevent sin, when in our power to

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perpetration. Are we justified in supineness, while such multitudes are going down to the grave with this leprosy in their skirts and in their souls? Do we, to the teaching of example, add the whole weight of that influence which the courtesy of an enlightened age, and the condescension of the religion of Jesus have in those latter days accorded us! If we are conscious of remissness, let the words of the poet admonish us– “Lo our not doing is set down, Among our darkest deeds.” Let the word of inspiration counsel us to avoid the anguish with which the erring sons of Jacob exclaimed, “We are verily guilty concerning our brother.” Intemperance is by the fireside—at the household board—in the nursery—have we nothing to do? We whose affections have taken root by that fireside—whose province it is to make that household board subservient to health and heavenly gratitude—to whom that nursery is the garner of the fondest hopes for time and for eternity;-shall we perceive, amid those sacred haunts, the footstep of the enemy, and slumber 2 Wife —who by a solemn vow before men and angels, has entered into a union which death alone can sever, has it been your fate to see the vice of intemperance casting a deadly shadow over a heart in which, next to heaven, was your confidence! And day by day, and hour after hour, as you watched its fearful ravage, have you been vigilant not to upbraid, not to argue reproachfully, but to repress your own Sorrows to render home desirable, to reawaken those affections which are the guardians of purity and peace? Above all, were your supplications unceasing to Him who “turneth the heart of man as the rivers of waters are turned?” If so, though the har274

Vol. II.

vest of your labors may have perished—though the disruption of your hopes nothing earthly can supply—still you will have escaped that deeper torture of reflecting that you are “verily guilty concerning” him who was once “your more than brother—and your next to God.” Mother!—whose duties are laid deeper than any vow of the lips, even in the immutable strength of a love that cannot swerve, have you counselled your offspring in this matter, “rising up early, and late taking rest?”— Among those habits which modify character, did you inculcate the control of the animal appetites—the superiority of happiness derived from intellect and virtue, to the fleeting pleasures of sense—the nobleness of subjugating the flesh to the spirit? Did you oppose with your frown, with the force of your authority, the first aberration from these principles? Did you fully set before them the infirmity of their nature, the dangers that surround them, the necessity that they should seek help from God! At dawn, and at noonday, and in the hush of midnight, was there a lifting up of your heart, that they might be “temperate in all things?” Yet, should it be your lot to behold one whom you had nurtured, blot the inheritance of his ancestors, and sink into the drunkard's grave, God forbid that you stand before his tribunal, and say, “I am verily guilty concerning”—whom 3– not the brother, whose habits you might not have been able to influence,—not the husband, whom it was not your province to control,but the child, whom you brought into life, and loved more than life, the child, for the first pencilled lines upon whose soul you are accountable, because it was entrusted to you as soft and unsullied wax, that you might stamp it with the seal of heaven.

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T H E A M E R I C A N S P Y. “Where are you going?” said a lazy looking citizen, thrusting his head out of a window, as one of his acquaintances was passing by, “What brings so many people up this direction?” “The military tribunal is sitting, and an American officer is to be tried as a spy,” was the hurried answer. “Wait; I will go with you,” rejoined the querist, and quickly passing through the door, as if new life were infused into him by the intelligence, he joined his associate and mingled in the throng that was pressing on to the point of attraction. The brief dialogue we have just noted took place in one of the remote streets of the city

The American Spy.

of New York during the war of the Revolution, at a time when the British army had possession of the city, and the combined forces of France and America, under the immediate command of Washington, were encamped at Dobbs' Ferry, a few miles distant from the British lines on the opposite side of the river. The familiarity of the American soldiery with the topography of the country, emboldened many of them to acts of adventurous daring, in the endeavor to obtain information of the position and plans of the enemy; and instances have been recorded wherein the hardy sons of the soil, for less public and national pur

|poses, manifested are cklessness of exposure

which could only be excused by the admiration they elicited, but could not be justified. By strange good fortune, however, notwithstanding the unsleeping vigilance of the enemy, these perilous visits were attended with remarkable success. But very few were detected or foiled in their undertakings, and such even as were captured on the forbidden ground, “lived to fight another day” in the ranks of their countrymen. An exception is however found in the prisoner, whose examination and trial had caused the sensation alluded to in the commencement of this narrative. Although more worthy than many who met a better fate, he was doomed to a bitter destiny. He was taken under very suspicious circumstances within a short distance of the British outposts; and being immediately conducted to Sir Henry Clinton, that officer promptly ordered a court martial for his trial, which assembled and was in readiness to proceed with its duties a few hours after the capture. The building in which the military tribunal held its sittings, was on the outskirts of the city—and has long since been removed for the erection of more stately edifices. At an early hour the hall was filled to overflowing with a crowd of anxious spectators. The courts in which Sir Henry himself presided, was composed of nine officers of different grades, seated on a circular elevation at the extreme end of the room, and dressed out in the rich and gaudy uniform of England. A file of British soldiery flanked the judgment seat on each side, and the standard of the Lion rampant projecting from the wall above it, hung out in the area and floated immediately above the head of the prisoner. It probably never waved over a braver soldier since the days of the first Richard, who justly was entitled to the cognomen of Coeur de Leon, as well for his dauntless valor, as because during his tempestuous reign, he was the animating spirit of the warriors of that nation, of whom the royal beast of the forest is heralded as the emblem. Calm, dignified and

unmoved, Ratcliff Dormer stood before his

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