The rules of morality-will not suffer us to promote the dearest interest, by falsehood; the maxims of war applaud it, when employed in the destruction of others. That a familiarity with such maxims, must tend to hardenbe the case, until ideas of contempt-are assothe heart, as well as to pervert the moral sentiments, is too obvious to need illustration.

While the philanthropist is devising means to mitigate the evils, and augment the happi-ful hues are often transient, and excite a more ness of the world, a fellow-worker together lively emotion from that very circumstance. with God, in exploring, and giving effect to the benevolent tendencies of nature; the warrior-is revolving, in the gloomy recesses of his capacious mind, plans of future devastation and ruin.

625. DARKNESS.

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Did wander, darkling, in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind, and blackening, in the moonless air;
Morn came, and went-and came, and bro't no
And men forgot their passions, in the dread [day;
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chilled--into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watch-fires; and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings, the huts,
The habitations of all things, which dwell,-
Were burnt for beacons ; cities were consumed,
And men w're gather'd round their blazing homes,
To look once more into each other's face:
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain torch.
A fearful hope-was all-the world contained:
Forests were set on fire; but, hour by hour,
They fell, and faded, and the crackling trunks
Extinguished with a crash, and all was black.
The brows of men, by the despairing light,
Wore an unearthly aspect, as, by fits,
The flashes fell upon them. Some lay down,
And hid their eyes, and wept ; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands,and smil'd;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up,
With mad disquietude, on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again,
With curses, cast them down upon the dust,
And gnashed their teeth, and howled. The wild
birds shrieked,

And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings: the wildest brutes
Came tame, and tremulous; and vipers crawled
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless-they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again-a meal was bought
With blood, and each sat sullenly apart,
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought-and that was
Immediate and inglorious; and men [death,
Died, and their bones mere as tombless as their
The meagre by the meagre were devoured; [flesh:
Even dogs assailed their masters-all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds, and beasts, and famished men, at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself, sought out no
But, with a piteous, and perpetual moan, [food,
And a quick, desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress-he died.
The crowd was famished by degress; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies; they met beside
The dying embers-of an altar-place,
Where had been heaped a mass of holy things,
For an unholy usage; they raked up, [hands,
And, shivering, scraped, with their cold, skeleton
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame,
Which was a mockery; then they lifted
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other's aspects; saw, and shriek'd, and died,

Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was, upon whose brow-
Famine had written fiend. The world was void;
The populous, and the powerful was a lump-
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless;
A lump of death--a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean, all stood still,
And nothing stirred, within their silent depths;
Ships, sailorless, lay rotting on the sea, [dropped,
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they
They slept, on the abyss, without a surge :
The waves were dead; the tides were in their
The moon, their mistress, had expired before;
grave;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perished; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them; she--was the universe.-By'n.

are affected with delightful sensations, when
626. TRUE PLEASURE DEFINED. We
we see the inanimate parts of the creation,
the meadows, flowers, and trees, in a flour-
ishing state. There must be some rooted
melancholy at the heart, when all nature ap-
pears smiling about us, to hinder us from
corresponding with the rest of the creation,
But if meadows and trees, in their cheerful
and joining in the universal chorus of joy.
verdure, if flowers, in their bloom, and all the
vegetable parts of the creation, in their most
advantageous dress, can inspire gladness into
the heart, and drive away all sadness but de-
spair; to see the rational creation happy, and
flourishing, ought to give us a pleasure as
much superior, as the latter is to the former,
in the scale of being. But the pleasure is
still heightened, if we ourselves have been in-
strumental, in contributing to the happiness
of our fellow-creatures, if we have helped to
grief, and revived that barren and dry land,
raise a heart, drooping beneath the weight of
where no water was, with refreshing showers
of love and kindness.

THE WILDERNESS OF MIND.
There is a wilderness, more dark

Than groves of fir-on Huron's shore;
And in that cheerless region, hark!
How serpents hiss! how monsters roar!
'Tis not among the untrodden isles,
Of vast Superior's stormy lake,
Where social comfort never smiles,
Nor sunbeams-pierce the tangled brake:
Nor, is it in the deepest shade,

Of India's tiger-haunted wood;
Nor western forests, unsurvey'd,
Where crouching panthers-lurk for blood;
'Tis in the dark, uncultur'd SOUL,

By EDUCATION unrefin❜d-
Where hissing Malice, Vices foul,
And all the hateful Passions prowl-
The frightful WILDERNESS OF MIND.
Were man

But constant, he were perfect; that one error-
Fills him with faults; makes him run through all

sins;
Inconstancy-falls off-ere it begins.
Vice is a monster of such hateful mien,
That, to be hated-needs but to be seen
Yet, seen too oft-familiar with her face,
We first endure, then pity, then embrace.

thus unsought, unpremeditated, unprepar'd!” But the truth is, there is no more a miracle in it, than there is in the towering of the preeminent forest-tree, or in the flowing of the mighty, and irresistible river, or in the wealth, and waving of the boundless harvest.-Dewey.

628. THE THREE BLACK CROWS.

Two honest tradesmen-meeting in the Strand,
One, took the other, briskly by the hand;
"Hark ye," said he, " 'tis an odd story this,

627. GENIUS. The favorite idea of a genius among us, is of one, who never studies, or who studies nobody can tell when; at midnight, or at odd times, and intervals, and now and then strikes out, "at a heat," as the phrase is, some wonderful production. This is a character that has figured largely in the history of our literature, in the person of our Fieldings, our Savages, and our Steeles; "loose fellows about town, or loungers in the country," who slept in ale-houses, and wrote in bar-rooms; who took up the pen as a maAbout the crows!"-"I don't know what it is," gician's wand, to supply their wants, and, Replied his friend.-"No! I'm surprised at that; when the pressure of necessity was relieved, Where I come from it is the common chat: resorted again to their carousals. Your real But you shall hear: an odd affair indeed! genius is an idle, irregular, vagabond sort of And that it happened, they are all agreed: personage; who muses in the fields, or dreams Not to detain you from a thing so strange, by the fireside; whose strong impulses-that is the cant of it-must needs hurry him into A gentleman, that lives not far from 'Change, wild irregularities, or foolish eccentricity; This week, in short, as all the alley knows, who abhors order, and can bear no restraint, Taking a puke, has thrown up three black crows." and eschews all labor; such a one as Newton "Impossible!"-"Nay, but its really true, or Milton! What! they must have been ir- I had it from good hands, and so may you." regular, else they were no geniuses. "The "From whose, I pray?" So, having named the man, young man," it is often said, "has genius enough, if he would only study." Now, the Straight to inquire his curious comrade ran. truth is, as I shall take the liberty to state it, "Sir, did you tell "-relating the affair-that the genius will study; it is that in the "Yes, sir, I did; and if its worth your care, mind which does study: that is the very na- Ask Mr. Such-a-one, he told it me; ture of it. I care not to say, that it will al- But, by the by, 'twas two black crows, not three." ways use books. All study is not reading, Resolved to trace so wondrous an event, any more than all reading is study. Whip to the third, the virtuoso went.

Attention it is, though other qualities belong to this transcendent power,-attention it is, that is the very soul of genius; not the fixed eye, not the poring over a book, but the fixed thought. It is, in fact, an action of the mind, which is steadily concentrated upon one idea, or one series of ideas, which collects, in one point, the rays of the soul, till they search, penetrate, and fire the whole train of its thoughts. And while the fire burns within, the outside may be indeed cold, indifferent, negligent, absent in appearance; he may be an idler, or a wanderer, apparently without aim, or intent; but still the fire burns within. And what though "it bursts forth," at length, as has been said, "like volcanic fires, with spontaneous, original, native force?" It only shows the intense action of the elements beneath. What though it breaks forth-like lightning from the cloud? The electric fire had been collecting in the firmament, through many a silent, clear, and calm day. What though the might of genius appears in one decisive blow, struck in some moment of high debate, or at the crisis of a nation's peril! That mighty energy, though it may have heaved in the breast of Demosthenes, was once a feeble infant thought. A mother's eye watched over its dawnings. A father's care guarded its early youth. It soon trod, with youthful steps, the halls of learning, and found other fathers to wake, and to watch for it, even as it finds them here. It went on; but silence was upon its path, and the deep strugglings of the inward soul silently ministered to it. The elements around breathed upon it, and "touched it to finer issues." The golden ray of heaven fell upon it, and ripened its expanding faculties. The slow revolutions of years slowly added to its collected energies and treasures; till, in its hour of glory, it stood forth imbodied in the form of living, commanding, irresistible eloquence. The world wonders at the manifestation, and says, "Strange, strange, that it should come

[fact,

«Sir," and so forth-"Why, yes; the thing's a
Though, in regard to number, not exact;
It was not two black crows, 'twas only one;
The truth of that, you may depend upon,
The gentleman himself told me the case. [place."
"Where may I find him?" "Why,-in such a
Away he goes, and, having found him out,—
"Sir, be so good as to resolve a doubt."
Then, to his last informant, he referred,
And begged to know if true, what he had heard.
"Did you, sir, throw up a black crow?" "Not I!"
"Bless me! how people propagate a lie! [one,
Black crows have been thrown up, three, two, and
And here I find, at last, all comes to none!
Did you say nothing of a crow at all?"
"Crow-crow-perhaps I might, now I recall
The matter over." "And pray, sir, what was 't?"
"Why, I was horrid sick, and, at the last,
I did throw up, and told my neighbor so,
Something that was as black, sir, as a crow.",

diffuse useful information, to farther intellec-
THE HIGHEST OCCUPATION OF GENIUS. To
tual refinement, sure forerunners of moral im-
provement, to hasten the coming of that bright
shall chase away the lazy, lingering mists,
day, when the dawn of general knowledge
even from the base of the great social pyramid;
this, indeed, is a high calling, in which the most
well press onward, eager to bear a part.
splendid talents and consummate virtue may

How soon-time-flies away! yet, as I watch it,
Methinks, by the slow progress of this hand,
I should have liv'd an age-since yesterday,
And have an age to live. Still, on it creeps,
Each little moment at another's heels,
Of such small parts as these, and men look back,
Worn and bewilder'd, wondering--how it is.
Thou travel'st-like a ship, in the wide ocean,
Which hath no bounding shore to mark its progress.
O TIME! ere long, I shall have done with thee.

629. PERRY'S VICTORY. Were anything | And those, forsaken of God, and to themselves givwanting, to perpetuate the fame of this vic- The prudent shunned him, and his house, [en up. tory, it would be sufficiently memorable, from As one, who had a deadly moral plague; the scene where it was fought. This war has And fain all would have shunned him, at the day been distinguished, by new and peculiar characteristics. Naval warfare has been carried Of judgment; but in vain. All, who gave ear, into the exterior of a continent, and navies, With greediness, or, wittingly, their tongues as if by magic, launched from among the Made herald to his lies, around him wailed; depths of the forest! The bosom of peace- While on his face, thrown back by injured men, ful lakes, which, but a short time since, were In characters of ever-blushing shame, scarcely navigated by man, except to be Appeared ten thousand slanders, all his own. skimmed by the light canoe of the savage, have all at once been ploughed by hostile ships. The vast silence, that had reigned, for ages, on these mighty waters, was broken by the thunder of artillery, and the affrighted savage stared, with amazement, from his covert, at the sudden apparition of a seafight, amid the solitudes of the wilderness. The peal of war has once sounded on that lake, but probably, will never sound again. The last roar of cannon, that died along her shores, was the expiring note of British domination. Those vast, eternal seas will, perhaps, never again be the separating space, between contending nations; but will be em-rant himself, was excited to the highest pitch, bosomed-within a mighty empire; and this victory, which decided their fate, will stand unrivalled, and alone, deriving lustre, and perpetuity, from its singleness.

In future times, when the shores of Erie shall hum with a busy population; when towns, and cities, shall brighten, where now, extend the dark tangled forest; when ports shall spread their arms, and lofty barks shall ride, where now the canoe is fastened to the stake; when the present age shall have grown into venerable antiquity, and the mists of fable begin to gather round its history, then, will the inhabitants of Canada look back to this battle we record, as one of the romantic achievements of the days of yore. It will stand first on the page of their local legends, and in the marvellous tales of the borders. The fisherman, as he loiters along the beach, will point to some half-buried cannon, corroded with the rust of time, and will speak of ocean warriors, that came from the shores of the Atlantic; while the boatman, as he trims his sail to the breeze, will chant, in rude ditties, the name of Perry, the early hero of Lake Erie.-Irving.

THE SLANDERER.

'Twas Slander, filled her mouth, with lying words,
Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin. The man,
In whom this spirit entered, was undone.
His tongue-was set on fire of hell, his heart--
Was black as death, his legs were faint with haste
To propagate the lie, his soul had framed.
His pillow-was the peace of families
Destroyed, the sigh of innocence reproached,
Broken friendships, and the strife of brotherhoods;
Yet did he spare his sleep, and hear the clock
Number the midnight watches, on his bed,
Devising mischief more; and early rose,
And made most hellish meals of good men's names.
From door to door, you might have seen him speed,
Or, placed amidst a group of gaping fools,
And whispering in their ears, with his foul lips;
Peace fled the neighborhood, in which he made
His haunts; and, like a moral pestilence,
Before his breath-the healthy shoots and blooms
Of social joy and happiness, decayed.
Fools only, in his company were seen,

630. TRUE FRIENDSHIP. Damon and Pythias, of the Pythagorean sect in philosophy, lived in the time of Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily. Their mutual friendship was so strong, that they were ready to die for one another. One of the two, (for it is not known which,) being condemned to death, by the tyrant, obtained leave to go into his own country, to settle his affairs, on condition, that the other should consent to be imprisoned in his stead, and put to death for him, if he did not return, before the day of execution. The attention of every one, and especially of the ty

as every body was curious, to see what would be the event of so strange an affair. When the time was almost elapsed, and he who was gone did not appear; the rashness of the other, whose sanguine friendship had put him upon running so seemingly desperate a haz ard, was universally blamed. But he still declared, that he had not the least shadow of doubt in his mind, of his friend's fidelity. The event showed how well he knew him. He came in due time, and surrendered himself to that fate, which he had no reason to think he should escape; and which he did not desire to escape, by leaving his friend to suffer in his place. Such fidelity softened, even the savage heart of Dionysius himself. He pardoned the condemned; he gave the two friends to one another, and begged that they would take himself in for a third.

THE CORAL GROVE.

Deep-in the wave, is a coral grove,
Where the purple mullet, and gold-fish rove,
Where the sea-flower-spreads its leaves of blue,
That never are wet, with fallen dew,
But in bright and changeful beauty shine,
Far down in the green, and glassy brine.
The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift,

And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow;
From coral rocks the sea-plants lift

Their bows, where the tides and billows flow;
The water is calm and still below,

For the winds and the waves are absent there,
And the sands-are bright as the stars, that glow
In the motionless fields of upper air:
There, with its waving blade of green,

The sea-flag streams through the silent water,
And the crimson leaf of the pulse is seen
To blush, like a banner, bathed in slaughter:
There, with a light and easy motion,

The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep sea;
And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean,
Are bending like corn, on the upland lea:
And life, in rare and beautiful forms,

Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
And is safe, when the wrathful Spirit of storms,
Has made the top of the waves his own.
Pride goeth before destruction.

631. BRUTUS' HARANGUE ON CESAR'S | Dioptrics, optics, katoptrics, carbon,
DEATH. Romans, countrymen, and lovers!
hear me for my cause; and be silent, that
you may hear. Believe me-for mine honor;
and have respect to mine honor, that you may
believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and
awake your senses, that you may the better
judge. If there be any, in this assembly, any
dear friend of Cesar's, to him I say that Bru-
tus' love to Cesar-was no less than his. If,
then, that friend demand, why Brutus-rose
against Cesar, this is my answer: Not that I
loved Cesar--less, but, that I loved Rome
more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and
die all slaves; than that Cesar were dead, to
live all freemen? As Cesar loved me, I weep
for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it;
as he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he
was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears
for his love, joy-for his fortune, honor-for
his valor, and death-for his ambition. Who's
here so base, that would be a bondman? if
any, speak; for him--have I offended. Who's
here so rude, that would not be a Roman? if
any, speak? for him-have I offended. Who's
here so vile, that will not love his country? if
any, speak; for him--have I offended.-I
pause for a reply.

Chlorine, and iodine, and aerostatics;
Also,-why frogs, for want of air, expire;
And how to set the Tappan sea on fire!
In all the modern languages, she was
Exceedingly well versed; and had devoted,
To their attainment, far more time than has,
By the best teachers lately, been allotted;
For she had taken lessons, twice a week,
For a full month in each; and she could speak
French and Italian, equally as well

None! then none--have I offended. I have done no more to Cesar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his death-is enrolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death.

Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as, which of you shall not?-With this I depart that as I slew my best lover-for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death.

632. ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG LADY.
She shone, at every concert; where are bought
Tickets, by all who wish them, for a dollar;
She patronised the theatre, and thought,

As Chinese, Portuguese, or German; and
What is still more surprising, she could spell
Most of our longest English words, off hand;

Was quite familiar in Low Dutch and Spanish,
And tho't of studying modern Greek and Danish.
She sang divinely: and in "Love's young dream,"
And "Fanny dearest," and "The soldier's bride;"
And every song whose dear delightful theme,

Is "Love, still love," had oft till midnight tried
Her finest, loftiest pigeon-wings of sound,
Waking the very watchmen far around.--Halleck.

633. CHARITY. Though I speak-with the tongues of men, and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.

And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity-suffereth long, and is kind; charity--envieth not; charity-vaunteth not itself; it is not puffed up; doth not behave itself unseemly; seeketh not her own; is not easily provoked; thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.

Charity-never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there

That Wallack looked extremely well in Rolla; be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we

She fell in love, as all the ladies do,

With Mr. Simpson-talked as loudly, too,

As any beauty of the highest grade,

To the gay circle in the box beside her;
And when the pit-half vexed, and half afraid,
With looks of smothered indignation eyed her;
She calmly met their gaze, and stood before 'em,
Smiling at vulgar taste, and mock decorum.

And though by no means a "Bas bleu," she had
For literature, a most becoming passion;
Had skimmed the latest novels, good, and bad,
And read the Croakers, when they were in
fashion;

And Dr. Chalmers sermons, of a Sunday; [gundi.
And Woodworth's Cabinet, and the new Salma-
She was among the first, and warmest patrons
Of G******'s conversaziones, where, [matrons,
In rainbow groups, our bright eyed maids, and
On science bent, assemble; to prepare
Themselves for acting well, in life, their part,
As wives and mothers. There she learn'd by heart
Words, to the witches in Macbeth unknown,
Hydraulics, hydrostatics, and pneumatics,

know, in part, and we prophecy, in part. But, when that which is perfect, is come, then that, which is in part, shall be done away.

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now, we see through a glass, darkly; but then, face to face: now, I know in part; but then, shall I know, even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.-St Paul.

EARLY RISING AND PRAYER.

When first thy eyes unvail, give thy soul leave
To do the like; our bodies-but forerun
The spirit's duty; true hearts-spread and heave
Unto their God, as flowers do--to the sun;
Give him thy first tho'ts then, so-shalt thou keep
Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer-should
Him company-all day, and in him-sleep.
Dawn with the day; there are set-awful hours-
"Twixt heaven and us; the manna-was not good
After sun rising; for day-sullies flowers:
Rise to prevent the sun; sleep-doth sins glut,
And heaven's gate opens, when the world's is shut.
Converse with nature's charms, and see her stores unroll'd.