Not dreadful, as when in the whirlwind he pleads, VOL. II. again find in this wide wilderness, such sympathy, such fondness, such fidelity, such tenderness, as he experienced from his mother. l'he world was moved with compassion for that motherless child, but the whole world cannot supply her place to him. For the Ladies' Garland. From the records of the Philadelphia Literary Asso ciation. Written on meeting my fellow members after recovering from Sickness. In the breath of his presence, when thousands expire, Yes, yes, once more I see you met, And seas boil with fury, and rocks burn with fire, When the sword and the plague-spot with death strew the plain, And vultures and wolves are the graves of the slain. Not such was the Rainbow, that beautiful one! Awhile-and it sweetly bent over the gloom, I gazed not alone on the source of my song, Like a visit, the converse of friends, and a day, "Tis a picture in memory, distinctly defined MOTHERS. Again I press each brother's hand; That joined this friendly, social band? I would not give one hour I've spent, With those my bosom holds so dear; For days of other years that lent, No glow like that which kindles here. Oft have I roam'd the dusky wild, And scal'd the mountain's rugged breast; Which bid my aching heart rejoice. My heart with gratitude o'erflows, And till this form inurn'd shall be, - H. Belief in IMMORTALITY.—Rameses, king of Egypt, when he wished his great obelisk to be elevated, caused his son to be attached to it, that the persons employed might feel that a life far more precious than their own depended on their labors. So is it with the belief in the immortality of the soul; it is not our lives only that depend on it, but the far dearer ones of the departed. How interesting he appears to every feeling mind! A child robbed of its mother excites universal commiseration and affection from every bosom. We look forward with anxiety to every future period of his life, and our prayers and hopes attend every step of his journey. We mingle our tears with his on the grave of her whose maternal heart has ceased to beat, for we feel that he is bereaved of the friend and guide of his youth! His father would, but cannot supply the loss. In vain the whole circle of his friends blend their efforts to alleviate his sorrows, and to fill the place occupied by departed worth; a REPENTANCE.-Lost innocence is lost for mother must be missed every moment by a ever. The victim of shame may so far check child who has ever known and rightly valued her steps in the career of evil as to maintain one, when she sleeps in the grave. No hand the outward forms of worldly decency; but it feels so soft as hers-no voice sounds so sweet is only one instance in a thousand that re-no smile is so pleasant!-Never shall hepentance reaches to the soul. Vol. II THE LADIES' GARLAND. A WREATH OF MANY FLOWERS. THE DEFORMED GIRL. BY H. W. PRENTICE. MEMORY-mysterious memory!-holy and blessed as a dream of heaven to the pure in spirit-haunted and accuser of the guilty!— Unescapable presence! lingering through every vicissitude, and calling us back to the past-back to the dim and sepulchred images of departed time-opening anew the deep fountains of early passion-the loves and sympathies of boyhood-the thrilling aspirations of after years! While the present is dark with anguish, and the future gladdened by no sun-bow of anticipation, I invoke thy spell of Unroll before me the chart of van power. The friends of my youth No. 3. unbodied spirit, there was something more than woman's meekness in her demeanor. It was the condescension of seraph intellectthe forgiveness and the tears of conscious purity extended to the erring and passionate of earth She was not a being to love with an earthly affection. Her person had no harmony with her mind. It bore no resemblance to those beautiful forms which glide before the eye of romance in the shadowy world of dreams.It was not like the bright realities of being— the wealth of beauty which is sometimes concentrated in the matchless form of woman.— It was Deformity-strange, peculiar Deformity, relieved only by the intellectual glory of a dark and soul-like eye. ished hours; let me gaze once more on their sun-light and shadow. I am an old man. Yet, strange as it may seem, I loved her, are gone from me. Some have perished on deeply, passionately as the young heart can the great deep; others on the battle-field, afar love when it pours itself out like an oblation off in the land of strangers; and many-very to its idol. There were gentle and lovely ones many, have been gathered quietly to the old around me-creatures of smiles and blushes; church-yard of our native village. They have soft tones and melting glances. But their left me alone-even as the last survivor of a beauty made no lasting impression on my fallen forest—the hoary representative of de- heart. Mine was an intellectual love-a parted generations. The chains, which once yearning after something invisible and holy bound me to existence, have been broken--something above the ordinary standard of Ambition, Avarice, Pride; even all that wakes human desire, set apart and sanctified, as it into power the intolerable thirst of mind.- were, by the mysteries of mind. But there are some milder thoughts-some brighter passages in the dream of my being, yet living at the fountain of memorythoughts, pure as angelic communion; and linked by a thousand tender associations to the Paradise of Love. Mine was not a love to be revealed in the thronged circle of gaiety and fashion-it was avowed underneath the bending heaven; when the perfect stars were alone gazing upon us. It was rejected; but not in scorn, in pride, no in anger, by that high-thoughted girl.She would ask my friendship-and my sym There was one-a creature of exalted intellect—a being, whose thoughts went up-pathy; but she besought me—with tears she ward like the incense of flowers upon God's natural altars-they were so high and so unlike to earth. Yet was she not proud of her high gift. With the bright capacities of an GAR.-VOL. II.-No. 3. 57 besought me, to speak no more of love. I obeyed her. I fled from her presence. I mingled once more in the busy tide of being, and ambition entered into my soul. Wealth came upon me unexpectedly; and the voice of praise became a familiar sound. I returned, at last, with the impress of manhood on my brow, and sought again the being of ny dreams. THE DELUGE BY G. V. H. FORBES, ESQ. VOL. II. This may be classed with no other event. It stands alone. The recorded transactions of She was dying. Consumption-pale, ghastly consumption had been taking away her men, the desolating power of the elements, hold on existence. The deformed and unfit- the cracks, tremors and eruptions of the crating tenement was yielding to the impulses zy earth, may be graduated by some scale of of the soul. Clasping her wasted hand, I bent comparative sublimity, force, or terror. With over her in speechless agony. She raised occurrences of the one kind there are similar records to compare, and the mind enjoys a her eyes to mine, and in those beautiful emblems of her soul, I read the hoarded affection secret pleasure in balancing the recent evil with the kindred one more remote. This of years the long smothered emotion of a satisfaction arises in part from the grateful suffering heart. "Henry," she said, and I conviction forced upon the mind that there is bent lower to catch the faltering tones of her a demonstration of method in the recurrence sweet voice—“I have loved you long and fer- of calamity-that the event, however distressvently. I feel that I am dying. I rejoice at ing, has a parallel, and, as the earth, on it. Earth will cover this wasted and un- which the hopes and castles of men are restseemly form, but the soul will return to that ing, survived the antecedent dispensation, so promised and better land, where no change of even now, when the thunders have done utcircumstance can mar the communion of spir-tering their voices, or the spirit of the storm it. Oh, Henry, had it been permitted!-but has passed by, or the spasms of organic matI will not murmur. You were created with more than manhood's beauty; and I-deformed, order of nature will revert to its own place. ter have quieted themselves, the interrupted -wretched as I am, have dared to love It will soon be over, is the uppermost thought you!" in danger-and then, calculations may be made, projects entered upon, the future bent into the circle of the present, and man, once more, seem to himself the lord of the creation. I knelt down and kissed the pale brow of the patient sufferer. A smile of more than earthly tenderness stole over her features, and fixed there, like an omen of the spirit's happiness. She was dead. And they buried her on the spot which she had herself selecteda delightful place of slumber, curtained by green, young willows. I have stood there a thousand times by the quiet moonlight, and fancied that I heard, in every breeze that whispered among the branches, the voice of the beloved slumberer. Devoted girl! thy beautiful spirit hath never abandoned me in my weary pilgrimage. Gently and soothingly thou comest to watch over my sleeping pillow-to cheer me amidst the trials of humanity—to mingle thy heavenly sympathies with my joys and sorrows, and to make thy mild reprovings known and felt in the darker moments of existence; in the tempest of passion, and the bitterness of crime. Even now, in the awful calm which precedes the last change in my being; in the cold shadow which now stretches from the grave to the presence of the living, I feel that thou art near me But in a new, untried calamity, appalling circumstances astound us; the courage of the bravest cowers under the approaches of a foe, uniting tremendous strength with unknown rules of action-and unearthly terrors gather themselves, like a cloud of fearfulness, over a scene of undefined, measureless ruin. Such was the deluge. It was poured out from the windows of heaven, it gushed up from the boiling fountains of the great deep without measure, parallel, antecedent, or genealogy. This is the event of one name; its genius one; its species one; its fashioning after its own fearful image, casting its shadows forward in the revelations of Noah's prophetic spirit. All nations own this occurrence as indisputable; and a thousand venerable traditions testify of the deluge of waters along with the water marks which are abundantly found in the highest mountains, and may be identified in the geological structure of the continents and the islands. No element, perhaps, excepting that of fire, could have wrought such changes-for, when the shoreless waters subsided, the fragments of the broken up world Neither the cold nor the fervid, but charac-selves into a dry orb, under far other than anwere tossing to and fro and rounding themters uniformly warm, are formed for friendship. "Thyself a pure and sainted one, A contented mind and a good conscience will make a man happy in all conditions. tediluvian features and combinations, the retiring waves sported with the ancient mountain tops as with pebbles, and surge after surge laid up on high the immense ridges of new modelled hills with deep and lengthened vales between. There is one peculiar circumstance connected with antediluvian remains not a little astonishing;-it is, that human skeletons have never been found, nor the ruins of a single edifice or monument, evidently belonging to the world before the flood. Man and his works perished. At intervals, indeed, the naturalist finds imbedded in the secondary formations of rock the gigantic bones of the Tapir and other animals of the old world whose species seem to have become extinct in the deluge; but the bare fleshless skeleton of a man who proudly rejected the spirit warnings of prophecy and lifted up his haughty looks towards the first black drops of the predicted storm, has probably never been revealed by the sunlight of heaven. The new world, drenched, reorganized, purified, was as if man|| had never been upon its vivifying bosom. The blood of ancient violence had been washed away. The proud cry of millions had subsided to the feeble supplications of eight individuals, || who stood alone in a strange, voiceless, unpeopled land, by the side of a rude altar, from whence the curling smoke of sacrifice went up, answered by the beautiful Iris, God's bow of promise in the cloud. 59 throughout the solitudes of the new world.— Threatened judgment comes on tardy wing— for God is merciful beyond earthly conception of the most merciful. Arrived at last, it is sudden-as if the kind Creator of humanity, was unwilling to hang out his protracted, unavailing terrors over those whose incorrigible obstinacy in sin had brought down destruction upon them. Many graphic writers and the pencil of the artist, have united in presenting a picture of long continued struggle-the black agony of horrid death-the arduous ascent to the mountain summit-the wild shout of pursuing waters-the cutting off of every hope—the sight of the buoyant ark outriding the storm-and the wild, unutterable wrestlings of the spirit of despair, tormenting the drowning millions in their death struggle. But we cannot follow the path of such. The painter, whose heaving canvass discloses an enormous serpent winding himself around the topmost rock of the highest mountain, while all around rolls the seething waters, reveals a strong probability of nature— or when he paints a cataract near a summit where the laws of nature would forbid a river to flow-or when he defies the doctrine of gravitation and shows the angry, foaming Ân event of such severe application, as masses of water stretching upward, like remight have been expected, has taken a deep versed waterfalls, he may be sustained by the hold on human sympathy, terror or curiosity; solemn evidence of recorded causes, if not and almost every being, who has become an effects. But let him people the last, the highinhabitant of earth since that time, has had est visible elevations with drenched, miserahis thoughts, to some extent, busied in ex-ble, living beings, he gives needless and unploring the gloom and storm of that sun-called-for severity to a judgment too tremenless season. Every spirit has peered out up- dous to exaggerate. Long, long before the on the watery grave of kings, of proud, aspi- highest hills were topped with foam, all earthring nobles, whose generations ran directly ly life, except that afloat in the ark, and that back to Eden, and who still felt in the purple whose breath is the deep sea itself, had probaflood of life at their hearts the slowly dimin-bly became extinct. When man punishes ishing impulses of the recent immortality of human nature. Genius, in eloquence, in song, or on the canvass, has often kindled over this theme and reaped fresh harvests of earthly immortality on this wide field of universal death. man, he sustains the poor, shivering form of his brother in slow torments, taking life in excruciating measures, inch by inch-but the judgments of God, slow in their approach, are sudden in their transaction. The calamity comes. The public mind seems stupified; and, in a moment, the Red Sea envelopes a from heaven wrap cities in flames; earthquake sinks them in dust, or the howling currents of the broken up seas and the dreary descent of floods from the opened windows of heaven finish the catastrophe of the world before the deluge. It is not our purpose to spread the glorious or the gloomy colors of fancy, in mingled dra-host; the earth swallows thousands; fires pery, over the deluge scenery. More true sublimity lurks in the account of this event given in the sacred records than may be found in the most labored, minute, or graphic displays of inventive probability. We follow the works of God; and, like the pioneer raven sent out from the window of the ark, hover a There is one point of lonely sublimity in moment longer over this stormy resting place this tragic event not yet delineated by the between the world's creation and its end. The pencil. It is an after occurrence, when every warning was long by the voice of Noah and earthly groan had long been hushed and the longer still by his unremitted labors in build-sea-weed shrouds had been woven around ing the ark of safety for himself, his family, and those beasts of the field and fowls of the air who might be destined to propagate their kind more millions than perhaps ever will find footing again at once upon our earth. The heavens had wept their last drop, and, with a 60 Beauties of Salathiel. VOL. II. pale blue aspect, reflected nothing but a heav-beyond the gates; and attended to with a ing counterpart below-a dark mirror of un- care which might cure all things but the broken waters, rolling to the lunar influence wounds of the mind. On the great object of without a shore to graduate the tides. Those my solicitude, the fate of my Salome, I could waters were receding. Evaporation lay upon obtain no relief. I wandered over the site of their bosom, and curling mists, with a fra- the palace, it was now a mass of ashes and grance like freshly opened furrows of spring, charcoal; its ruins had been probed by hunfloated on the dim edges of the horizon where dreds: but search for even a trace of what sky and billow met, and there seemed to form would have been to me dearer than a mounmimic mountains, shadowy resemblances or tain of gold, was in vain. mockeries of the world that was. From a window of the ark, a dark wing essays its flight. A raven, the first of birds to navigate the atmospheric fluid of the new world, comes out after a year's confinement, and flaps his pinions between sea and sky. The flight of this pioneer, who returns no more, and the visionary line of vapor mountains towards which he directs his course, and the croaking Fear makes the individual feeble, but it of disappointment, as he finds them thin makes the multitude ferocious. An univerair-together with the solemn silence of the|| sal cry arose for revenge. Great public misburied creation below, form an assemblage fortunes give the opportunity that the passions of lonely impressive images, more truly af- of men and sects love; and the fiercest sacrifecting than the fury and affright of the de-fices of selfishness are justified under the luge onset. name of retribution. BEAUTIES OF SALATHIEL. BY REV. GEORGE CROLY. I awoke with a sensation of pain in every But to my inquiries for the fate of my child, he could give no answer; he had discovered me among the ruins of the palace of the Æmi-|| lii, to which he with many of his countrymen had been attracted with the object of collect ing whatever remnants of furniture might be left by the flames. I had fallen by the edge of a fountain which extinguished the fire in its vicinage, and was found breathing. During three days I had lain insensible. The Jew now went out, and brought back with him some of the elders of our people, who, after the decree of the Emperor Claudius, remained in Rome, though in increased privacy. I was carried to their house of assemblage, concealed among groves and vineyards || The conflagration continued six days; and every day of the number gave birth to some monstrous report of its origin. Of the fourteen districts of Rome, but four remained. Thousands had lost their lives, tens of thousands were utterly undone. The whole empire shook under the blow. Then came the still deeper horror. I But the full storm burst on the Christians, then too few to have fortified themselves in the national prejudices, if they would have suffered the alliance; too poor to reckon any powerful protectors; and too uncompromising to palliate their scorn of the whole public system of morals, philosophy, and religion. The emperor, the priesthood, and the populace, conspired against them, and they were ordered to the slaughter. I too, had my stimulants to hatred. Where was I? in exile, in desperate hazard;-I had been torn from home, robbed of my child, made miserable by the fear of apostacy in my house; and by whom was this comprehensive evil done? The name of Christian was gall to me. heard of the popular vengeance, and called it justice; I saw the distant fires in which the Christians were consuming, and calculated how many each night of those horrors would abstract from the guilty number. Man becomes cruel, by the sight of cruelty; and when thousands and hundreds of thousands were shouting for vengeance, when every face looked fury, and every tongue was wild with some new accusation, when the great, the little, the philosopher, the ignorant, raised up one roar of reprobation against the Christians, was the solitary man of mercy to be looked for in one bleeding from head to foot with wrongs irreparable? During one of those dreadful nights, I was gazing from the house-top on the fire forcing its way through the remaining quarters; the melancholy gleams through the country, showing the extent of the flight; and in the midst of the blackened and dreary wastes of Rome, the spots of livid flame, where Chris |