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recent bereavements, would rise up for an instant For I believe that He who heeds before me and then float away into dim distance.

The life that hides in marsh and wold, I was prostrated with a severe fever, through

Who hangs yon alder's crimson beads,

And stains the maples green and gold, which I was tenderly watched and nursed by my

Will still, as He hath done, incline faithful Chloe, aided by friends whose approach

His gracious ear to me and mine. I could not now repel. After long delirium and

Grant what we ask aright, from wrong debar, unconsciousness I awoke at last to reason, and And, as the earth grows dark, make brighter every for several days bore reluctantly with what I fancied was Chloe's needless caution in keeping the The hands of the clock were slowly creeping room almost wholly darkened. At last I would past the midnight hour; the leaping flames were bear it no longer; I wanted to see the sunlight gone; in their place were only embers glowing once more, and insisted that the windows should redly under the white ashes, even as hope will be opened. Poor Chloe, after trying in vain to live and glow in a strong heart under all the satisfy me, obeyed in silence, and then hid her smoldering ashes of disappointment.


face in the bed-clothes and cried like a child

. Maggie rose from her seat and folded her arms


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The curtains were rolled up, the blinds wide about her cousin, saying softly: open; I knew it, for I could dimly see the sun " "Tribulation worketh patience!' I pray God shining through the rose-tree and the white spire to teach me that lesson now and spare me such a of the church, with its golden vane, but all was life-long chastening as you have met!" dim and faint and indistinct as before. I heard They went forth in a few hours, each to her Chloe weeping; I put out my hand and felt her appointed lot-one to the sunshine, the other to head as she kneeled by the bedside, and slowly the the shade—and the angels looked down upon dreadful truth forced itself upon me -I was go-them both. Years have passed, and Lucy Warding blind; I was almost blind then, and soon, well, the loving, the beloved, has gone up to her perhaps, I should be entirely so. I should never Father's house where the many mansions be. see the sunshine or the flowers or a human face She is at rest from her labors and her works do again. All my life I must be a helpless, de- follow her, for many cherish her memory among pendent creature-a burden to myself and oth their heart's best treasures.

Maggie Howard still lives, and if she is ever "I remembered then the words I had spoken tempted to murmur at any teaching of the Dion thanksgiving-day-'I have nothing to be vine hand, she remembers that night at the old thankful for'-and felt that the Lord had justly homestead and whispers to her doubting heart: smitten me for my ingratitude. Day after day I "Tribulation worketh patience; and patience, felt the last rays of light going out to me, till at experience; and experience, hope: and hope length I could not see even in the broad sun maketh not ashamed." shine; but, sitting in that outward darkness, a

“ Better to stein, with heart and hand, great light dawned upon my soul. I found Jesus,

The roaring tide of life, than lie, and, leaning upon him, I felt that I was better in

Unmindful, on the flowery strand my blindness than when I walked alone with my

Of God's occasion, drifting by; proud heart.

For he who sees the future sure "My chastening was severe, but the Lord was

The baffling present may endure, better to me than my fears; for, after months of

And bless, meanwhile, the unseen Hand that leads almost total blindness, the result of long-contin

The heart's desires beyond the halting steps of deeds." ued nervous excitement, my sight was gradually restored. "I went back again to my old post of teach

SENTIMENT-THE FALSE AND THE TRUE. ing, for I was compelled to make use of some How much fine sentiment there is wasted in means of support, and think I can say from my our strange world! I have seen a young lady in heart: 'It is good for me that I have been afllict raptures of admiration over a flower which was ed, for before I was afflicted I went astray.' It to deck her hair in the ball-room, who would was a great relief to me when your father offered turn away, with a look of loathing, from the me a home here, for a teacher's life is a weari- proffered kiss of her baby brother; and I have some one, but now that I must go back once heard lovely lips, all wreathed in smiles, and more to it, I go with full trust in the goodness breathing tones of joy over a pretty shell, a and mercy that will never suffer me to be tried shining insect, or even a gay ribbon, say cold above what I am able to bear. Do you remem- and cruel words to the best friend—ay, the mothber those beautiful lines we were reading to- er—who was wearing her life out to promote the gether but a few days ago:

| happiness of her ungrateful daughter. H.



NEW CURIOSITIES OF LITERATURE. man, who, for duly preparing it for publication,

should have half the profits, if any. The worthy

bookseller gave it to Mr. Cooke. The work was OVERTY! thou half-sister of death, thou published, and the profits were thirty pounds.

cousin german of hell, where shall I find Cooke took his portion and reserved the other force of execration equal to the amplitude of thy half for the author. Many years elapsed; at demerits?'' Thus apostrophized the unhappy length a gentleman called on Mr. Cooke, and Burns; and he had ample cause, at the time, declared himself to be the author of the pamphlet, thus acutely to speak of poverty. In a letter, telling him he knew that fifteen pounds were due dated 7th of July, 1796, he writes to his friend to him, and adding, he was ashamed to take it, Cunningham: “When an exciseman is off duty* but that "his poverty, and not his will,” conhis salary is reduced to thirty-five pounds, instead sented, as he had a wife and an increasing famof fifty. What way, in the name of thrift, shall I ily. Cooke paid the money, and the stranger demaintain myself, and keep a horse in country parted, expressing his gratitude. The necessiquarters—with a wife and five children at home tous author was the late Lord Erskine. on thirty-five pounds? I mention this because I In 1780 Crabbe, buoyed up with the hope of had intended to beg your utmost interest, and bettering his fortunes by his verses, in London, that of all the friends you can muster, to move our adventured on the journey thither, with scarcely a commissioners of excise to grant me the full sal friend or even acquaintance who could be useful to ary. If they do not grant it me I must lay my him, and with no more than three pounds in his account with an existence truly en poeti. If I pocket. This trifle being soon expended, the die not of disease I must perish with hunger.” deepest distress awaited him. Of all hopes from

In a letter to Dr. Laurence, dated 22d of May, literature he was speedily disabused; there was 1793, another very great writer alludes to his no imposing name to recommend his writings, pecuniary difficulties: “What I wrote was to dis- and an attempt to bring out a volume himself charge a debt I brought to my own and my son's only involved him more deeply in difficulties. memory, and those ought not to be considered as His poverty had become obvious to the persons guilty of prodigality in giving me what is beyond with whom he resided, and no further indulgence my debts, as you know. The public-I won't could be expected from them; he had given a dispute longer about it—has overpaid me; I wish bill for a debt, which, if not paid within the folI could overpay creditors. They eat deep on | lowing week, he was threatened with a prison. what was desgined to maintain me." It is possi- In this extremity of destitution, "inspired by ble that men, in their sympathy for “the fate of some happy thought in some fortunate moment,' genius," as they may phrase it, may lament over he ventured on an application to Burke. He the sight of a man like Edmund Burke, thus feel had not the slightest knowledge of that gentleing the ordinary inconvenience of straitened cir- man, other than common fame bestowed; no incumstances. But it seems to me that genius, so troduction but his own letter, stating these cirfar from having any claim to favor when it neg. cumstances; no recommendation, save his dislects the common precautions or exertions for tress; but, in the words he used in the letter, securing independence, is doubly inexcusable, “bearing that he was a good man, and presumand far less deserving of pity than of blame. ing to think him a great one,” he applied to him, Burke ought to have earned his income in an and, as it proved, with a degree of success far honest calling. Every man of right feeling will beyond his most sanguine expectations. The prefer this to the degrading obligations of private young poet was established under his roof, at friendship, or the precarious supplies, to virtue so Beaconsfield-under his eye, “The Library” and perilous, of public munificence. He chose rather “The Village" successively issued from the to eat "the bitter bread of both these bakings" press; and Reynolds and Johnson, in a word, all than to taste the comely, the sweet, the exquisite Burke's intimate friends, partook of his interest fruit, however hard to pluck, of regular industry. in his protegé. A lieutenant in the Royal Navy had written a

Under similar circumstances Johann Gottlieb political pamphlet, but, being called to his duty, Fichte wrote a similar manly letter to Kant. In was not able to see it through the press. He requesting the loan of a small sum of money he therefore placed it in the hands of a bookseller, offered for security and guarantee of subsequent desiring that he would give it to some literary payment all that he had to give in such a case

his honor and integrity as a man.

"I know no * He was then at Brow, sea-bathing quarters, in

one," continued he, "except yourself, to whom I very bad health. Indeed, in fourteen days after its

could offer this security without fear of being date, he was a corpse.

laughed at to my face. It is my maxim never to

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ask any thing from another without having first | Aspostolicus, a Greek refugee from Constantinoof all examined whether I myself, were the cir- ple, bearing this inscription: “The king of the cumstances inverted, would do the same thing for poor of this world wrote this book for his bread.” some one else. In the present case I have found Ion Thorlakson, the translator of “Paradise that, supposing I had it in my power, I would do Lost” into Icelandic, composed the following this for any person to whom I believed to be ani- lines, in allusion to his poverty: “Ever since I mated by the principles by which I know that I came into this world I bave been wedded to Por- ! myself am now governed."

erty, who has now hugged me to her bosom these After the death of his wife, Wycherly became seventy winters save two; and whether we shall much reduced in worldly affairs, and at length ever be separated here below is only known to was thrown into the fleet, where he languished Him who joined us together.” during seven years, utterly forgotten by the gay and In the early part of his career as an author, lively circle of which he had been a distinguished Marmontel translated Pope's “Rape of the Lock” ornament. In the extremity of his distress he into French, and sold it to a publisher for about implored the publisher, who had been enriched fifteen pounds. Upon this sum he assures us by the sale of some of his works, to lend him that he subsisted for eight months. This nearseventy pounds, and was refused.

ness of circumstance was as nothing compared Stow, the antiquarian, suffered much in his old to that of Ulrick Von Hutton, one of the greatage from the ailments that attacked him, and est writers Germany has produced, and one of the also from poverty. In the very absoluteness of harbingers of the Reformation. He was, during his need the poor old man determined to apply for part of his life, in great distress. He begged his relief to the country for which he had done so way through the country, knocking at the doors much. He got the formal consent of James I of peasants’ huts to beg a piece of bread and that he might go “a-begging" through thirty-six shelter, and when denied, as he too often was, he counties. To this effect a paper was regularly had to sleep on the bare ground. He died when drawn up, signed and sealed by the king, ad- he was only thirty-six years old in a lamentable dressed to "all and singular, archbishops, bish plight. Zuinglius says that "he left nothing of ops, deans, and their officials, parsons, vicars, the slightest value. He had no books, no furnicurates, and to all spiritual persons, and also to ture, except a pen.” Almost equal to Von Hatall justices of the peace, mayors, sheriffs, bailiffs, ten, at least in respect to poverty, was Saint Sichurchwardens, etc.” The grant concludes thus: mon, the author of "The Reorganization of Eu“We wish and command you, and every of you, ropean Society,” etc. The Frenchman was so that at such timą and times as the said John“ pinched by poverty” that during the whole of Stow, or his deputy, shall repair to any of your a severe winter he denied himself fuel, in the hope churches or other places, to ask and receive the of being enabled to defray the expenses of publicacharitable benevolence of our said subjects, qui- tion; nay, he often endured the pangs of hunger. etly to permit and suffer them so to do; and you, "For fifteen days,” he writes, “I have lived upon the said parsons, etc., for the better stirring up of bread and water, without a fire; I have even sold charitable devotion, deliberately to publish and my clothes to defray the expenses of copying my declare the tenor of these letters-patent unto our work.” One day his courage, resignation, and said subjects, exhorting them to extend their lib- energy forsook him; he forgot his Creator, and eral contributions in so good and charitable a attempted to terminate his life. He however redeed."

covered from the guilty attempt, and resumed his At times the pecuniary affairs of William Penn labors and his hopes. Tradition says that in Ben were so deranged that he was afraid of his cred-Jonson's last illness King Charles sent him a small itors. He contrived an aperture at his house in sum of money. “He sends me so miserable a doNorfolk-street, by which he could see any one at nation,” said the expiring satirist, “because I am his door without being seen. A creditor having poor and live in an alley; go back and tell him his sent in his name, waited a long time for admis- soul lives in an alley.” Ben told Drummond of sion. “Will not your master see me?'' said he Hawthornden that “the Irish having robbed Spenat last to the servant. “Friend,” replied the do- ser's goods and burnt his house, and a little child mestic, "he has seen thee, but does not like thee.” new-born, he and his wife escaped; and after he

Bishop Hall, during his latter days, suffered so died for lack of bread in King-street, and refused much from poverty and harsh treatment that twenty pieces sent to him by my lord of Essex, they wrung from him a book of complaint called and said, 'He was sorry he had no time to spend “Hard Measure." At Bologna, in the “Univers- them.' ity Library," is a manuscript of the “Images of In Depping's “Reminiscences of a German's Philostrates," in the handwriting of Michael Life in Paris," I have found the following anec

dote of Llorente, the enlightened, talented, and the field of battle and in the councils of the persecuted historiographer of the Inquisition: state, remarkable also for self-abnegation in the "Among the individuals whom chance threw into record of military exploits, survived to upward my way in Paris, was Llorente. I frequently paid of fourscore years, finishing his course in 1852 him a visit, and found him to be an extremely somewhat characteristically, at Walmer Castle, well-read scholar. On one occasion I met him on the coast of Kent, as if keeping watch and in the street, early in the morning; upon asking ward over the country for which he had fought him where he was coming from, he replied, “I on the adjoining continent. The third, a man of hired myself last night to watch a dead man's universal science, who made the universe his body. How little did I dream, when a canon at study, and sketched it with a master hand on the Toledo and a privy counselor at Madrid, that I enduring canvas of the lettered page, in 1859 should ever be forced to earn my daily bread by ended his career in the city of his birth, Berlin, mounting guard over a defunct Parisian!" Soon at the patriarchal age of eighty-nine years, seven after this occurrence poor Llorente was ordered months, and a few days, affording evidence that to leave France. He had scarcely regained his powerful mental exertion and active bodily labor native soil when he fell a prey to wretchedness are, when united, conducive to long existence. and destitution.

While the two former were wielding the sword, During the latter years of his life, the poet the latter devoted himself to the peaceful task of Camõens was compelled to wander through the interrogating the visible creation, embracing its streets a wretched dependent on casual contribu near and distant, minute and imposing, living tion. One friend alone remained to smooth his and lifeless objects, from microscopic animaldownward path and guide his steps to the grave cule, tiny mosses, and blanched cavernous vege

with gentleness and consolation. It was An- | tation, to snow-crowned hights, the subtile at| tonio, his slave, a native of Java, who had ac- mosphere, and ethereal circuits studded with glit

companied Camöens to Europe, after having res- tering stars. He communed with rocks and cued him from the waves, when shipwrecked at mountains, valleys and volcanoes, rivers and forthe mouth of the Mccon. This faithful attendant ests, plants and animals; determined elevations, was wont to seek alms throughout Lisbon, and at noted temperatures, and directed a penetrating night shared the produce of the day with his poor glance to the boundless expanse of heaven, the and broken-hearted master. But his friendship depth of the ocean, and to landscapes where was employed in vain; Camöens sank beneath the Nature alone ruled, uninfluenced by men and pressure of penury and disease, and died in an

their civilization. Eminently, his alms-house.

Joy was in the wilderness, to breathe

The difficult air of the iced mountain tops, LAST DAYS OP HUMBOLDT.

Where tho birds dare not build, nor insect's wing

Flit o'er the herbless granite; or to plunge THREE famous men—the Emperor Napoleon Into the torrent, and to roll along

I, the Duke of Wellington, and Baron Alex On the swift whirl of the new-breaking wave ander Humboldt-born in the same year, 1769, Of river-stream, or ocean, in their flow." have successively departed from the stage of We shall not attempt a record of the life and time, leaving only a few tottering stragglers be- labors of Humboldt. It will suffice to remark hind them, now in age and feebleness extreme, that, in youth, he plunged deeply into the study of the many millions who had a cotemporaneous of chemistry, geology, mineralogy, natural hisnativity. The great crowd bas passed into entire tory, and galvanism, and acquired extraordinary oblivion. No chronicle commemorates their command of almost every department of physdeeds or enshrines their names. But those of ical and political science. Thus qualified for enthe three mentioned will live to the remotest lightened observation, he conducted researches ages in the memory of posterity, in every civil in the equinoctial regions of America, in comized community—on the page of history in every pany with the naturalist, M. Aimé Bonpland, bewritten tongue. The first, who influenced for a tween 1799 and 1804. During this journey he time the destinies of Europe, captured its capi- determined astronomically the position of more tals, plundered its cities, ravaged its fields and than three hundred places; ascertained the bifurreddened them with blood, died an exile on a cation of the Orinoco, and its connection with solitary rock of the Atlantic, in 1821, after little the Amazon; studied the phenomena of earthmore than half a century of life-a memorable quakes; marked the forms of animal and vegeexample of vaulting ambition overleaping its table life in the great rivers and forests; five aim and reaching a tremendous catastrophe. times crossed the icy ridges of the Andes; and The second, his final victor, eminent alike on scaled the side of Chimborazo to the hight of


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19,300 feet above the sea, the greatest altitude America, while busy with the composition of his that had then been attained by man.

“Kosmos," the fourth and last volume of which Having surveyed the elevated regions of the he left in an unfinished state, as if to remind us new world, it was the earnest desire of Humboldt of the transient nature of all worldly pursuits. to become familiar with the still loftier summits Every line of this remarkable production, which of the old. But though he never saw the colossal may be called his literary legacy to the world, masses of the Himalaya, yet, in 1829, when a bears testimony to the unrelaxing energy and sexagenarian, he again took the pilgrim's staff in perennial clearness of his intellect, though writhand, and proceeded into Central Asia as far as ten at a time of life when to most men the “grassthe frontiers of China. The two journeys ena- hopper is a burden;" and it will remain a monubled him to compare the auriferous deposits of ment of intellectual greatness more enduring the Ural Mountains and of New Grenada; the than the road of the Simplon, which commemoporphyry and trachyte formations of Mexico and rates the physical power of a great cotemporary. the Altai; the savannas of the Orinoco and the As undisputed monarch in the realm of physsteppes of Siberia; the banks of the Obi and of ics, the highest honors were paid to Humboldt at the Amazon. It deserves remark, as an instance home and abroad. He lived in the closest intiof sagacity, that while at St. Petersburg, before macy with the King of Prussia, had apartments starting, he told the Empress of Russia she assigned to him in the royal palaces at Berlin might expect some diamonds obtained from the and Potsdam, enjoyed a pension from the govdominions of the Czar on his return, so con- ernment, was made a councilor of state of the vinced was he that the same district contained Prussian order, "Pour le Merite," while foreign them which yielded gold and platinum. Accountries forwarded to him their complimentary cordingly, on reaching the Urals, he visited the distinctions. Courted by princes, and attracting gold-washing districts, and a diligent search for to himself the greatest men at the head of every the precious gem was instituted. It was not science, he was respected and beloved by all for crowned with immediate success, and the trav- probity of character, benevolence of spirit, and eler pursued his course. But a few days after simplicity of manners. As one of the least selfhis departure, Paul Popoff, a boy of fourteen, ish of men, he was ever ready to lend his assistone of Count Polier's serfs, found the prize in ance whenever and wherever it was needed, fosthe mines of Bissersk, and obtained freedom as tering the rising generation of naturalists at the his reward. This was the first-discovered Rus- expense of a heavy correspondence. A liberal sian and European diamond, the mines being on in politics, he was through life the uncomprothe European side of the mountains. Another mising foe of slavery. In the hey-day of proswas soon obtained at the same site, which, being perity, he did not forget his former traveling forwarded to Humboldt, enabled him to fulfill his companion, Bonpland, in his misfortunes, with promise to the Empress on returning to the cap- whom he had botanized on the plains of Venezuital.

ela and the slopes of the Andes. This eminent For a few years after his last scientific tour, man had gone to Buenos Ayres in the year 1818, Humboldt enjoyed cheering intercourse with his as professor of natural history, but was for some elder brother, William, the scholar, critic, and time lost to the knowledge of the civilized world, diplomatist, who resided on the family estate, at and no certain clew could be obtained as to his the château of Tegel, seven miles from Berlin. fate. At last it was ascertained that, in the This brother, to whom he was tenderly attached, course of an expedition into Paraguay, he had died in his arms in the year 1835. “Think often been seized by a party of soldiers, under the orof me,” he remarked in his last moments, “but ders of the tyrant Francia, and carried off a always cheerfully. I have been very happy. prisoner. He was confined chiefly in Santa MarTo-day was also a happy day for me, for love is tha, but allowed to practice as a physician. the greatest happiness. I shall soon be with Humboldt applied in vain for the liberation of your mother, and comprehend the laws of the his friend. It was not granted till the death of higher world.” The survivor severely felt his Francia, in 1841, by which time Bonpland had loss; and, not being a family man, the event was become attached to the scene of his exile. Flowpeculiarly desolating. "I did not think," he ob-ers, shrubs, and trees, of his own planting, had served, in a letter to a friend, “my old eyes grown up, and were luxuriantly flourishing could shed so many tears." From this period around his cabin. He resolved, therefore, to reHumboldt withdrew more and more from public main where he had lived so long, and survived life, though consulted to the last upon political to the summer of 1858, when Humboldt received questions by his sovereign, and on subjects con a joyous letter from him. He died, soon afternected with science by the savans of Europe and ward, in his eighty-fifth year, and his old com

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