Its shades are full of voices,
Ever ringing joyous out;

From its trembling whispered breathings,

To the storm's wild boist'rous shoutAnd its notes, so deeply thrilling, From the dark recesses start, And swell through ether, stilling The quick beating of the heart.

When the gorgeous robes of spring-time
Hath arrayed them in its green,
And the leaves are bright with dew drops,
Glancing in the morning's sheen,
Then its full enchanting chorus
With a rapture we have heard,
For the songs are round and o'er us
Of each gladsome forest bird.

Or when the sere of Autumn
Hath fastened on the leaf,
And clad the Summer glories,
With the fading garb of grief;
One tearful strain of sorrow
Will thy songstress sadly chime,
Ere they flit upon the morrow
To some far and sunny clime.

We have heard the gentle zephyrs Stealing through the waving boughs, With a melody entrancing

As the maiden's whispered vows. And the storm-wind, as it rushes In its wild and mad career,

The bravest bosom hushes

To a solemn awe and fear.

E'en the frosty reign of Winter
Hath a cheerful minstrelsy,
As the ice of morning falleth,
From the tall and stately tree.
And the heart can feel no power
In the poet's sweetest lay,
Like the music of the shower

In some Summer's sultry day.

Oh! I love the brave old forest,
That for centuries hath stood,
And waved its lofty branches
Grandly in the solitude!
My home is in its bosom,

Where no human foot hath trod;
My companion, the wild blossom,
And my trust, in Nature's God.

Original.

LIRIODENDRON TULIPIFERA-TULIP TREE.

CLASS POLYANDRIA-ORDER POLYGYNIA.

Natural Order-Magnoliacea.

BY JOHN B. NEWMAN, M.D.

[SEE PLATE.]

We remember the time when our imagination was warmed, and our heart beat quick as we read the description of the feast of Tulips in the Seraglio of the Grand Seignior. On long galeries, placed on raised seats, were an almost infinite number of crystal vases, filled with the most beautiful Tulips the world produced; splendidly illuminated by wax tapers, which, as they gave light, emitted the most exquisite odors; and the gentle fall of the showers of rose water, blended in with and softened the music of the melodious instruments, accompanied by the warbling notes of singing birds in cages of gold, who were deceived by the dazzling radiance into the supposition that it was day. But such thoughts were checked and shamefully put to flight by the recollection of our own glorious Tulip tree; the Sultan's splendor fades into insignificance when contrasted with the view presented in the forests of the middle and western States. Rising with a regular, straight, and majestic growth, to the height of from eighty to one hundred and forty feet, and a diameter varying from nine to thirty. This magnificent tree, in the months of May and June, is covered with the gorgeous flowers represented in our plate, giving an effect which art can never imitate. Of their own accord, the songsters of the wood hymn its praises. As its flowers resembles Tulips, the specific name is much more proper than the generic, derived from the Greek, meaning a Lily tree. The branches, which are not very many, are, when young, bluish, but change afterwards to a greyish color, inclining to red. The leafstalks which rise from them are long, bearing leaves which are divided into four pointed lobes, cut off abruptly at the end, and of a glossy green. The flowers are large, separate, with stalks rising from the ends of the branches. The flower-cup has two leaves which fall off as the flower expands; the inner ones, of a pale green, remain bent backwards, to show the petals, which vary from six to twenty, and are oblong on the outside, but spear-shaped within, of a yellowish green color, with a crescent of bright orange on both sides, in relief; many stamens, surrounding a conical acute pistil, the germen of which, when ripe, is a cone of woody overlapping seed-vessels,

which contain two egg-shaped, blackish seeds. The bark of the tree and branches are aromatic, and useful as a stomachic. The wood is smooth, flexible and tough, and is used in carving, and in the West for making household furniture, as well as the pannels of coach and chaise bodies. It emblemizes RURAL FELICITY. It is much prized in Europe, where it is now common, but seldom attains over fifty feet.

THE PILGRIM'S ROCK,

BY MRS. AMELIA B. WELBY.

WHEN first the lonely May Flower threw
Her canvass to the breeze,
To bear afar her Pilgrim crew,

Beyond the dark blue seas;

Proud Freedom to our land had flown,

And chose it for the brave;

Then formed the Nation's corner stone,

And set it by the wave,

That when the Pilgrims anchor there,
Their stepping stone might be

That consecrated rock of prayer,

The bulwark of the free.

And there they stood-each Pilgrim brow
Was wan with grief and care,
And bent each manly form-but oh !
Another sight was there;

Fond woman, with her sweet sad face,

All trembling pale and chill;

But oh! there was in that lone place
A sight more touching still-

The cheek of childhood, pale with fear
And hushed its voice of glee;

And they are gone, but we are here,
A bulwark for the free.

Our Pilgrim sires are gone, yet still

A nation in its pride

Hath poured o'er every vale and hill,

In a bright unbroken tide;

And still their floods shall flood the land,

While that old rock appears,

Like a pilgrim born to stand,

The mighty wreck of years,

And oh while floats the wind and wave,

That hallowed rock shall be

The threshold of the good and brave,

The bulwark of the free,

MINISTERING ANGELS.

BY EMILY E. CHUBBUCK.

MOTHER, has the dove that nestled
Lovingly upon thy breast,
Folded up its little pinion,

And in darkness gone to rest?
Nay, the grave is dark and dreary,
But the lost one is not there;
Hear'st thou not its gentle whisper,
Floating on the ambient air?
It is near thee, gentle mother,
Near thee at the evening hour;
Its soft kiss is in the zephyr,

It looks up from every flower.
And, when Night's dark shadows fleeing,
Low thou bendest thee in prayer,
And thy heart feels nearest Heaven,
Then thy angel babe is there.

Maiden, has thy noble brother,
On whose manly form thine eye
Lov'd full oft in pride to linger,

On whose heart thou could'st rely, Though all other hearts deceived thee, All proved hollow, earth grew drear; Whose protection, ever o'er thee,

Hid thee from the cold world's sneer,-
Has he left thee here to struggle,
All unaided on thy way?

Nay he still can guide and guard thee,
Still thy faltering steps can stay:
Still when danger hovers o'er thee,
He than danger is more near:
When in grief thou'st none to pity,
He, the sainted, marks each tear.

Lover, is thy light extinguished,
Of the gem that in thy heart
Hidden deeply, to thy being

All its sunshine could impart ?
Look above! 'tis burning brighter
Than the very stars in heaven;
And to light thy dangerous pathway,
All its new-found glory's given.
With the sons of earth commingling,
Thou the lov'd one mayst forget,
Bright eyes flashing, tresses waving,
May have power to win thee yet;
But e'en then that guardian spirit
Oft will whisper in thine ear,
And in silence, and at midnight,
Thou wilt know she hovers near.

Orphan, thou most sorely stricken
Of the mourners thronging earth,
Clouds half veil thy brightest sunshine,
Sadness mingles with thy mirth.
Yet, altho' that gentle bosom,
Which hast pillowed oft thy head,
Now is cold, thy mother's spirit
Cannot rest among the dead.
Still her watchful eye is o'er thee,
Through the day, and still at night,
Hers the eye that guards thy slumber,
Making thy young dreams so bright.
O! the friends, the friends we've cherish'd,
How we weep to see them die-
All unthinking they're the angels
That will guide us to the sky!

Original.

QUEBEC.

BY JOHN B. NEWMAN, M.D.

[SEE PLATE.]

In the early part of the seventeenth century, the king of France, in virtue of a right which, as Irving remarks, is exercised alone by kings, that of giving away what does not belong to them, granted to the Spear De Monts all the tract from the fortieth to the forty-sixth degree of latitude, comprehending the whole of the territory from New Jersey to Nova Scotia. In virtue of this grant, Samuel Chapman, the agent of De Monts, explored the noble country of Acadia, as it was then called, to find a suitable location for a capital. Three hundred and forty miles from the sea, on the Northern bank of the St. Lawrence, at its confluence with the St. Charles, he found a bold promontory that exactly suited his wishes, and on which, in the year 1608, he laid the foundation of Quebec. The location certainly proved his possession of good taste and judgment, for the surrounding scenery is unequalled in grandeur and magnificence, and it is a place of the greatest natural strength in North America. The French fortified it as strongly by art as it was before by nature, and a view of our plate will teach us to sympathize with the feelings of the brave Wolfe, when, in his letter to the British minister, he declared he saw no prospect of reducing the place. Every previous expedition against the Gibralter of America had failed, and Montcalm, secure in his impregnable position, with an army at least equal in numbers to that of the English, and strongly entrenched, smiled at all their attempts. We presume all have mentally followed