'On Bunker’s height, at deep midnight,
’Their nerves were steel, but their hearts could
_They have passed away like a quiet day—
' Dez'il’s.Elz'1'z'r of Life; but as I am only fol-
-~ lead a companion to the hymenial altar.
., .
From the,Salem Observer.
AIR FREEDOIVPS HAPPY HOIVIE.
“ ‘ av BIELZAR GARDNER.
~ wake the glad sliout-—let the sound ring out
Like the swelling trumpet’s tone, ‘
' nd thesong slialltfeljto She world how well -
Was the prize 0 rec om won.
’Twas a gloomy day—no cheering ray
Shone on their untrod path,
When a patriot band first made a stand
For Liberty or Death ! ._
But theiwork was done—the prize was won-.-
To us the boon has come '
\Vbile 1- 11s the sea, our land,sliall be
Fair *reedom’s happy home!
Their hands’unstained—-themselves untamed
_ In battles dread array,
They had nerve to bear, and souls to dare
The terrors of the fray!
feel
The wrongs their country felt,
And they braved the storm—unmoved and firm
To God alone they knelt. '
And the work was done—the prize was won-—
To us the boon has come;
While rolls the gea our land shall be ,.
Fair Freedom’s happy home !
The band of heroes stood,
We may trace their toil on that holy soil
They moistened with their blood;
And all that day the fearful fray
Raged on the battle field.
And the foeman’s dart pierced many a heart
That had been freedoni’s shield.
But the work was ‘done—the prize was won
To us the boon has come;
VVliile rolls the sea, our land shall be
Fair I-‘recdo:'.i’s happy home! _..
On land and tide our country’s pride--
Her flag——to the breeze was given ; '.
From its starry gleam, by hill and stream, .-
The foe was backward driven. _
_ Like a ripple on the deep;
That banner waves o’er the quiet graves
VVhere its brave defenders sleep.
But their work is done--tlieir prize is wou——-
To us the boon has come ; . . 1
While rolls the sea, our land shall b
Fair Frecdoin’s happy home! '
,Har{f'o‘i‘d, C'onn., June 1837.
A LOVE .SONfliI
I-Tatlzcr unZz7:c the morlcrn ones.
Dear Kate, I do not swear and rave,
Or sigh sweet things as iiiany can;
_But though my lip ne’er plays the slave,
My heart will not digrace the man.
I prize thoe—-ay, my bonnie Kate,
So firmly fond this breast can be,
That I would brook the sternest fate
If it but left me health and thee.
I do not promise that our life '
Shall know no shade on heart or brow ;
_For human lot and mortal strife
\Vould mock the falsehood of such vow ;
But when the clouds of pain and care
Shall teach us we are not divine,
My deepest sorrows thou shalt share,
And I will strive to lighten thine.
We love each otlic,r, yet pei-chance
The murmurs of dissent may rise;
Fierce words may chase the tender glance,
And angry flashes light our eyes.
But we must learn to check the frown,
-To reason rather than to blame;
.Tlie wisest lnivz-, tlnir faults to own,
And you and I, girl, have the same,
You must not like me less, my Kate,
For such an honest strain as this;
I love thee dearly, but I list»;
The puling rhymes of “kiss” and“ bliss.”
Thr~rc’s faith in all I’ve said or sung,
I woo thee as a man should woo;
And tliougli I lack a honeyed tongue,
Tlioul’t never find a breast more true.
C.
Cara-unrnx...
I For the .7\'orwul7.' Gazelle.
A VOICE FROBI 'i‘l{!E DEVILNS DEI’.
For her the I*‘.iiicy, roving unconlin’d,
The pl.‘t:SUI1I.'lllU:30 of every pensive mind,
Works magic wonders, adds it brighter hue
To .\a£urc's scenes than .’\'alurc ever knew.
COWI'El"...
Mr. Editor-—IIave you ever heard of a place
in \Veston, in this County, called the Devil's
Den! If you have not, it is high time you had,
and as the conductor ofa public press, it is your
bounden duty to call the attention of your road-
ers to the importance of the village of VVeston,
and the place from whence I write this article.
In its vicinity has been found the “ I’liilosoplier’s
-Stone,” the real “Elixir of Life.” Proud am I
that Providence destined my birth in the vicinity
of the Dcvil’s Den, for many reasons——thc two
most important of which I shall now give you,
My first reason is, that here is a fountain, or
Spring, which has been styled by a writer in the
Republican Farmer, under the signature of Fox-
'r4NALis, “ VVestoii Medicinal Spring”-——yet
from the place of its discovery, and for the pur-
pose of fulfilling an old saying of “giving the
Devil his due.” should have been called, The
lowing the track of another in my glorification
of this Spring, and as there is not much in a
name, I shall not be strenuous, but merely make
this passing suggestion to my friend Fontanalis.
This spring, it is said, will prevent death from
old age—tliat is, a person wrinkled o’er with the
furrows of time, becomes by washing in and
drinking of its waters, as fair as a‘ little child.—-
Rally then, ye of either sent,’ who have passed
your lives in a state of single-blessedness, wash
in this pool, and again throw your youthful
charms before an admiring throng, and strive to
I y second reason is, the scenery. But I feel
myself inadequate to the description of its un-
aralleled beauty. The writer in the Farmer,
after dwelling with minuteness on the scene
that presents itself to the beholder from a gravel-
ly knoll near the Spring, of “here and there a
tjzcc, and surrounded by barren 7‘0c7cs, that en-
gircly obstruct the 1;z'sion," concludes his 4th No.
gs follows :
‘.‘~ It would not surpass the truth to afiirm, that
no’ country place in the universe can boast of
renter beauties, where ALL is country and ALL 18
nature. It might rationally seem to an ardent
ima ination, that the God of nature in this place,
ma e an effort, while almost all other places in
'tlicir"native features were but the passing Works
ofhis. hands. Surrounded with such views, where
311 might appear as the work of enchantment, a
man would be led to expect something uncom-
mon, ‘and’ while gazing with rapture on the
“cries before him, fancy himself already near
the ten of the celestial city, with ears open to
“ DoN"r oivi:
UP '1‘HE snip.”
VQL. XX.
blazes still earthly. Within this valley, on the
southwest side ofthe hillock, where Pam; buri-
ed bis arrow in testimony of his son’s accept-
ance of the oath, issues the Medicinal Spring.
Its properties, when compared with the purest
water, are so obvious to_ the common sense of
the visitant, that it has justly obtained the em-
pliatic appellation of ‘the Pool,’ in reference,
doubtless, to the pools recorded in holy writ, in-
asmuch as its power of healing many diseases
is scarcely less eflicient. In many parts of the
country, the confidence of-tlie people in its vir-
tues is such, and so remedial are its waters, in
the estimation of thousands, that they feel saris-
tied that aicure will result from their use. So
strong is their belief in its sovereign efiicacy,
they have only tobring their friends to its mar-
gin, let them dr1nk_ freely of its waters, and
bathe themselves in its streams, and like Naa-
man the Syrian, who in accordance with the
command of the Prophet of the Most. High, dip-
pcd himself seven times in the river of Jordan,
“ their fiesli comes again as a little child, and
they are clean.’ ”
Let Saratoga, Ballston, and New -Lebanon
“ hide their diminished heads.” Heiicefortli,
nought but desertion and solitude await them,
The fashion and beauty of the Union will soon
forsake your tame and uninviting scenes, and
abandon your pretended licalth-giviiig Springs,
to congregate at VVeston.« Already on this
place, described by Fontanalis, my imagination
fancies a'splendid city, and the hills so eloquent-
ly pictured covered with the literati of Europe—
the various Monarchs of the earth repairing
hither to inhale the odors of the plarfiind to
use the waters which issue from this Spring,
and by repeated visits, to remain for ever in the
vigor of youth!
But, Mr. Editor, did you ever see such a burst
of eloquence as is contained in the extract from
Fontanalisi Iliave never seen but one, and for
his especial benefit I will here transcribe it. A
young lawyer at the west in summing up a case to
‘ a jury, concluded with tli_e_ following:
“Let the humble ass crop the thistle of the
valley—let the amphibious goat soar upon the
niouiitaiii top——-but gentlemen of the jury, I say
my client, Mike Fingle, is not guilty.”
Fontanalis, it must be confessed, has the
“root of the matter in him,” and with a_ few
more drauglits from the Medicinal Spring, may
surpass this lawyer in his touches of the sali-
lime.
My sheet is nearly llill-but if you print this,
I shall try and keep you advised of every thing
of importance in relation to this wonderful
Spring. It is also my intention, as soon as I
have leisure, to send you a brief account of the
different "arieties of snakes, owls, &c. found in
the vicinity of the Dcrifs Dcn—-together with
a short Essay on the best mode of sharpening
the noses of sheep, to enable them to eat the
grass between the rocks in the town of Weston.
JAKE.
l*l"‘c-slozz, (Dcvil‘s I)en,) August -3, 1837.
I-Iow to protect 07-c/umZs.—Tlie old minister
had an orchard of most particular good fruit;
for he was a great hand at biidin, graftin, and
what not, and the orchard stretched right up to
the road. W'cll, there were some trees hung
over the fence ; I never seed such bearers, the
apples hung in ropes, for alltlie world like strings
of onions, and the fruit was beautiful. Nobody
touched ;lie minister’s apples, and when other
folks lost theirn by the boys, liisn always hung
there like bait to a book, but there never was so
much as anibble at cm. So I said to him one
day, Minister, said I, how on airtli do you ma-
nage to keep your fruit that’s so exposed, when
no one else cant do it noliow’! Why says be,
they are dreadful pretty fruit, aint they‘! I guess,
said I, there ant the like on em in all Connecti-
cut. Well, says be, I’ll tell you the secret, but
you~need’nt let on to no one about it. That are
row next the fence, I grafted it myself; I took
great pains to get the right kind; I sent clean
up to Rcixbury, and away down to Squaw Neck
Creek. They are beautiful, but so eternal sour
that no human soul can eat them. VVell, the
boys think the whole minister's graftin has suc-
ceeded about as well as that row, and they sai-ch
no farther. 'I‘liey snicker at my graftin, and I
laugh in my sleeve,I guess, at their penetra-
tion.-,-— The Clockmalter.
'1'/is Passz'ons.—-When Kean paid his last
visit to Ayr, his performance of Othello hap-
pnned to be the subject of conversation in a
shop, when a, butcher who was present asked
very gravely whether Mr. Kean spoke all lie
said out of his own head, or if he learned it
from a book’! Being told how the thing; was,
he exclaimed against paying to hear a man re-
peat wliat every one who could read might do
as well as himself; an objection which was met
by some one observing that the actor “ did not
only recite the play, but he delineated the vari-
ous passions which belonged to the character.”
“Passions! passions F.” cried the butcher,
“Gang to the fish-market if ye want to see the
passions ; that's the place for passions l”
Italian OalIi.s.—An Englishman who had been
residing at Rome a few months, was presented
with bills for some thousand crowns, by dealers
in Italian gewgaws, which articles he had never
received, and consequently refused to acknow-
ledge. Next day he was waited upon by the of-
ficers, and learned that there was no" escape,
payment must be made, or his doom would be
jail for life. He then entrusted his cause toan
advocate, who fortunately succeeded in bringing
it to an immediate trial, and the next day he
waited upon the Englishman,tell1iig hiiq that he
might order his horses, for he had gained his
cause, Of course, said the client. Y0“ hlwe
showed that these fellows could not prove my
ever having ordered their trurnpery.
“ Quite the contrary,” said the advocate:
“they proved the fact, and proved it by no_ less
than twenty witnesses, who had all sworn that
they had seen you order them.” “ But how did
‘cute the first sound of their angelic harps.-
',l_‘hau_gli the fire of his soul thus burns, yet if
you beat them 7.” “ Swearing against them
would be of no use, so Ibrouglit five and twen-
NORIVALEK, CONN. WVEBN
ty witnesses to swear that they saw you pay for
them. The fellows were not prepared for this,
and you gained your cause.”
Anccclotc.—An Irish officer of distinction at-
tendeda ball, but was not as proficient in danc-
ing as in the use of his sword. While stand-
iiig up in a cotillion, his partner called his atten-
tion to a young man opposite, who had previ-
ously exhibited much skill as a dancer, in the
act of mimicing the movements of the officer,
who was of gigantic proportions. A little ob-
servation convinced him that it was the inten-
tion of the young gallant to ridicule him; and,
therefore, stepping up towards him, he iiiquii-ml,
“Is that ye’re natural way of dancing'!” He
was answered that it was._ “‘vVell,” says the
oflicer, “ if so, by .l—-s ifI catch you dancing
arlij/ici7ally, hereafter, I’ll knock you down.”—
The consequence was, the young fellow had to
persist in his mimicry while he remained in the
room. V
LIVE AND LET LIVE,
on iio.\ii«:_s'1‘ic si:i}.vicr_; ILI_..US'l‘RA'1‘ED
Is the name ofa new work of Miss Sedgewick,
just published by the Harpers. Its object is
sufficiently indicated by its name ; it illustrates
the reciprocal duties ofemployers and domestics
by instructive aiid alIecliiig examples from com-
mon life. From the perusal we have given to
several oftlie chapters, wejudge it to be no less
popular than either oftlie two previous works of
the author of‘ Home,’ and the ‘ Rich Poor Man,
and Poor Rich Man.’ But. we prefer to let the
gifted and benevolent author engage the good
will ofihc public by a more ellicacious method
than any praises of ours. Here is one of the
chapters of the work.——Evem'ng Post.
ALL eons WRONG.
‘I never was so iornicnied before,’ s,ai_d Mrs.
Ardley iolier husband.
‘Vi/hat now, my dear?’
‘ My new seamstress plagues me so! From
morning to night she is coming to me with,
‘Please to show me how you wish this done,
M rs. Ardley,’ and ‘ would you be so good asjusi
to fix this for me, Mrs. Ardley T”
‘If she don't suit you, why not get anotlier ?’
‘ She does suit in some respects-.—slie is quick
and very neat—-she only does not understand fit-
ting.’
‘ Can't you teach her ?’
‘Ardley, bow absurd I I might as well turn
seamstress at oiice-—-I sliai;i‘l worry my life out
about it; if she don’t get on I shall look out for
‘How does the girl in Sopliy’s place nialge
out?’
‘ So so. She isa first rate wqirlier, but slie~
annoys me so !’ .
‘ In what way?
‘ She has no manners. She has always
lived in the country and in mechanics’ families.
She slam-bangs about the liouse——sliu1s the doors
as if she was in a taveru—sings when I am in
the room——sits down when she is taking my
orders——nevcr puts a Miss to the girls’ names—
says yes and no to me~and all that sort of
iliing.’
‘These are all subordinate rnatters——is she
not good tempered and well disposed T can't you
teach lier ?’
‘ She ‘is the very soul of good temper, and she
seems as ifslie could not do too much for you ;
but this drilling is so tiresome. I wish I could
have one perfcctservant !’
‘ We must have perfect mistresses first.’
‘That is just like you, Ardley. It is their
business, and Lliey ought to perfect themselves
forit.’. '
7 ‘ The part of a mistress is not less a business,
my dear, nor does it require a less preparation.
Don’t be offended, but I must say that I beg our
girls may be made acquainted with domestic
affairs. I should be asliaiiied to impose them
on any man, as ignorant as many young ladies
are.’
‘ Oh, it's very easy talking, but you men know
nothing about doiiiesiic troubles.’
‘You women, my dear, certainly do your
bes: to enlighten us.’ i _ ' _.
‘I think you are very unkind, Ardley, when
you see me so anrioyed-—bui your turn is coming,
for David is talking of going.’
‘ David! Heaven forbid !’
‘He is, and it is lialfyour own fault, for ever
harping to him about saving his wages, and in-
vesting tlieiii for him, till his head is fairly turned.
He is going to get married, and buy a farm in
Michigan, the foolish fellow!’
‘Not so very foolish either, to exchange a
iiiaii-servant’s place in the city for a wife, a
farm, and independence in l\Iichigan__! Upon
my word, it gives me pleasure to find David's
affairs turning out so well !’
‘Your tone will change when David really
goes.’ ,, .. in, -'-\l_ ‘.'
‘I hope not, mydear; we will try to lose the
sense of our loss in David’s gain.’
‘ Charity begins at home, Mr. Ardley.’
‘Bulsliould not stop at home, Anne.’ Mr.
Ardley was a man of sense and benevolence ;
but, unfortunately, he lia-.l begun with his wife
as she had with her domestics. He foundlier
not qualified for her place, and ‘ it was too much
trouble to teach her.’ It required too susiained
an ellort to awaken her to a sense of her deficien-
cies, and to inspire her with energy to supply
them ; so be consoled liiniself with her favorite
adage, ‘ VVliat can't be cured must be endured.’
One raw disagreeable day,vvlieu the mercury
was just enough above ilie freezing point to
allow a heavy snow to, thaw, Lucy came into
the nursery with the two liille girls whom she
had led from school, that being one of the duties
included in her ‘odds and ends.’ ‘ My dear
Belle,’ said her mother, ‘ why are you crying ?’
‘It’s so cold, mother, Lucy could hardly help
eryiuo. Lucy, please make haste and take oil‘
my rubbers.’ Lucy did her best, but her hands
were benumbed, and she was less d6.\'l6l‘OUSl.ll8l'l
usual. ‘What ails you, Lucy’! your fingers
are all thumbs.’ ‘ ‘
‘I should think they would be, mother,’ said
little Belle, who had inherited her mother's con-
stitutional kind-lieartedness; ‘she had not any
gloves, and she could not keep her hands under
her cloak, because she had’ to take hold of our
hands, you know; and besides. her shoes have
holes in them, and her feet are wet.’ ,
‘My dear, if girls will go out with ragged
somebody elsc—-change is the order (l)l‘ll'iP.‘F_l'fl_)'. _
Y’i.~_CSDAI1’, A.§J'é'~P.EI.3'E‘ E8,
‘ I have no others, in:i’ani.’
‘Tlien pray buy a pllll‘ the first time you go
out; but, in tlic iiieairiiiiiie, look in my closet ;
you will find a l)2.l$li(=.l tlzere with half a ilozcn
pairs’ more or less wo_rn—-take ilieiii all, if they
suit you.’
‘Oh, thank you. ma’:ini!
to iiinibcr, Mrs. Ardley ?'
‘ \Vli-at an idea! Your mollicr wear iiiv
slices! did you ever notice ‘my foot, child 3‘ I
‘ Yes iiia‘am, but moili_ei's is very small too ;
and noise troubles father so much that a pair of
light shoes will be a great comfort.’
‘Do what you like wiili tlieni, child, you are
both welcome to tliem. But don't let me see.
you with holes in your shoes. If there is any
thing I can’l put up with, it is an Ulllltly-l()Olill)-g
servaiit. Tlizil’s just the way,’ continued Mrs.
Ardley, after Lucy had gone in quest of ilie
shoes, ‘ servants never provide tlieiiisclves with
walking shoes, and they go sputtering about in
the wet, and then bark, bark all winter-—ii is too
annoying to hear tlieiii.’ Poor Lucy, the im-
mediate cause of this dciiuiiciatioii, liziviiig, be-
fore earned, predestiried every cent oflier wages
to. her nioilier’s necessities, had looked with dis-
may upon her decaying slices. If the generosi-
ty with which Mrs. Ardley lizid lavished half a
dozen pairs of but half worn delicate kid shoes
upon Lucy had provided her with a siiigle pair
of stout walking slices, the child would have
been saved froiii iiiucli (liscoiiifort and sull'eriiig.«
But she had not yet learned that it was her duty
to know the actual condition of her domestics, to
watch O\'(:‘I“lll€ll‘ health, and, as far as she was
qiialilied by soperiorjudgiiient, to regulate their
expciises. If she ll8_(l even iiiqiiired into I.,ucy’s,
she would have been touched with the child's
virtue ; -for Mrs. Ardley was far from being an
unfeeliiig woman; she was only tlioughiless,
indolent, and self—iiidiilgent. Few woman are
exposed to glaring vices, but let Uicni beware of
the moth and rust tliatconsuiiie-tlieir virtues.
The consequence of Lucy’s exposure was
soon apparent in asevcre cold. The running up
and down stairs in the irritated state of lierluiigs
gave her pain, and, ignorant as she was of
diseases, sad forebodings.
I After crawling about for two or three days
with a burning cheek and short breath, she was
laid on her bed, and M rs. Ardley‘s physician be-
iiig summoned, he pronounced her very ill with
iiiilaiiiiiiation oftlie lungs. The virtues of Betsey
(Sopliy’s successor) were now called into requisi-
tion. and they amply cloned for the want of the
graces that belong to polislied service. Like
most Amt»-riczin bred doiiicstic-s,* slie had been
acciistoiiicii to multifarious service. Izlcr talents
had been developed by a life of exigencies. She
used her head as well as hands, and, as Lucy
found, her heart for the direction of both. ‘ '.Vli'.it
is your iiiotlicr’s name, Lucy?’ asked her kind
attendant; ‘ Mrs. Ardley says Dznid shall go
for her.’
‘Oh, please, Betsey, don't send to motlicr—-
she camiot come, and it will only make her
miserable to know that I am sick. I will give
you as little trouble as I can—sct the drink by
my bed-—tli:it is all l'want.’
‘It is not the trouble I niiiid Lucy, but your
iiioilier is the fittest person to be with you. \Vli_v
cannot she come ?’ Lucy explained the sad
wiry, and Betsey, brusliing oll'a tear, said, ‘ You
are riglit—-we must not put another drop in a
cup too full already. If Mrs. Ardley will only
allow me time, I can do every thing for you.
Let me see your blister.’ The blister was just
opened, when Mrs Ardley’s bell rung. ' There
—1 must go-let it be till I return.’ Betsey
went down two pair of stairs to Mrs. Ardley-’s
room. ‘ Itwas Miss Anne rang the bell, Betsey,
tell Betsey what you want, my dear.’
‘Have you _seen my doll’s mull‘, Betsey?’
Betsey had not. ‘ Just look for it, please,
Betsey.’ ,-
‘ Dolly can wait, Igucss——I must go back to
Lucy’s blister.’ .
‘Look first,’ interposed the mother. ‘Miss
Anne waiils to take her doll down Broadway.
Have you sent David for Lucy’s‘ mother ?’
Betsey expl iined why she had not. ‘ How
zinnoying !’ resuiiied .‘.'Irs. Ardley ; ‘ how is she
to be taken care of here I’
‘ Oli, Icziii uianzige well enough if the cliild-
reii wou’t ring me down in wait on their babies.
Tliei'e‘s your dolly’s IIIUII, Anne ; and now, if
you will go up to your sky parlor, and see poor
Liic_v's blister, yoii’ll be soriy for her.’
‘ May I go, iriaimiia T’
‘ No, my dezir, iliose upper rooms are freezing
——you will take cold.’
‘lfa sick person can stay in them, it won't
hurt mejust to go‘ in, rnamriia!’
‘ Servants are accustoiiied to cold roonis,~iiiy
dear.’
‘But, maniiria.’ insisted the little girl, who
was sagzicious, and not acciistoiiicd to blind sub-
iiiissimi in any form. ‘I am sure the servants
are part of their time in our warm rooms.’
‘ You are talking nonsense, Anne.’
‘ There is one thing that is not nonsense,
iiiziriima; l know, if I was a servant, I would
not live anywhere that 1 could not have a fire
when I was sick.’ ‘ The child is lit to be a mis-
tress,’ thought Betsey as she remounied the stairs,
‘-and Ihat’s what can be said of few.’ Betsey
liadjusl nicely arraiiged her dressing to proceed,
when the bell again sounded. "l‘lie_re it goes
again——riiig-a-ding !’ slie exclaimed.
‘ Oh, please go, Betsey—it makes my head
snap so to hear it when you are siayingjust for
me.’ Thus eutreatcd. Betsey We.m-
‘Bring me my fur-shoes, Betsey, from the
next room.’ The shoes were brought, and Bet-
sey lizilf way up stairs. when the bell again rung.
‘I forgot to ask you for l'X_'|y cloak and bat,
Betsey, but you should have thought yourself.’
‘Is there anything else I ought to think of, Mrs.
Ardley, before I finish the blister '!’ she asked, as
she handed in the cloak. -
‘Bless inc! is not that blister done yet '!—-
\Vhy, you bcgar: it half an hour ago !’ Mrs-
Ardley saw a cloud gathering on Betsey’s brow,
and she added, ‘I know the sick must be taken
care of. Give Lucy plenty ofleiiioiiade, or any
tbingin the liousosbe wants,’ Betsey perceived
Mrs. Ardley was very bountiful of what cost her
May Igive a pair
"‘ \Ve once heard an English woman, a compe-
tentjudge, say that the very best domestics she
had ever seen, excepting the Scotch, who did
shoes, they must expect wet foot. Why did
you not change your shoes, Lucy C" ‘ .
not surpass them. were the Aniciican feniale
domestics in Boston.
1837.
FM}. 233..
iieillier exertion nor sacrifice. If is surprising
that such generosity excites little gratitude '!
Betsey had scarcely i‘ez_i_r:lied the top of the
stairs when the bell agniii rung most. iiiipor—
iuiiately. ‘Oh, B_etsey,I entirely forgot. that
'.V.lr. Ardley wislies dinner half an ‘hour earlier
than usual—-riiii down and tell l“erris. Dear
me! gave D.-iviil leave to go nut—-y—iu"ll hiive
the table to sci—-—-oh, how lH('¢)n\’Cl]l-"Ill it is to
have servants getting sick-—iiiiiic always are.’
The next niorniiig Lucy was worse. ‘I
shall never. be better, Betsey,’ she said, ‘while
I have such ilrezidful nights. Mrs. Ferris comes
to bed tipsy, and I lontli li.';‘l'_S,() flint I get upon
the very edge ofilic bed, and she snorcs so horri-
bly that Icaiiiiol close my eyes-—but pray doii7t
tell Mrs. Ardley. slie l~;iioivs as well as we do
Mrs. Ferris drinks. and ii will just end in my
being sr in home to my iriotlier, and that I could
not bear.’-
iip alive, may be, just hcrczinse she can tickle
llieir palates; well it's a f_‘()ll]l(:al world !’
' lfI only might have any little bit of zi bed
on your floor. Betsey ?’ Betsey explored the
house in vain for extra servants’ bedding.
\V?IS,‘l1()W’(’V€l', a woirien of expedienis. If she
had been in a log llul in the western wilderness,
she could have contrived soiiieiliingz, aiid she
would not be lizillled in a rich inercliaiiI‘s luxuri-
ous esialilisliiiiciit in the ciiy of New York. An
old sofa—c-iisliioii was brouglit from the garret,
and various articles of :ipp_zircl substituted for
pillow and ‘plziiikets. Betsey then put Liicy
into her lied. agreeiiig with her bed fellow. the
seamstress, that they would alternately occupy
the pallet on the floor. Lucy now reaped the
reward of the l(lll(.lllCS.‘.‘- she had sliown these
women when they were strniigc-i's iii the family.
To her frequent repetitions of'I‘low kind you are,
‘ So your life is to be lost, and all of us burnt _
not it will end in the gulf of eternal dissolution,
oi; break off in some wild which fancy may fill
up as she pleases, but reason is unable to delin-
eate. Quench not that b('8.lTl which, amidst the
iiightpf this evil world, has cl.eered the despon-
deiicjfifof ill-reqnited worth, and illuminated the
darkiiess of suffering virtue.”--Jllaclzciiszc.
INCIDENT on THE 1iEVoLU'i‘ioN.
BY inns. A-.\'N s. s'i‘i:1*i-ir:1\‘s.
"' *’ The morning dawned on the un-
fortunate I-1ale’s confinement just as he had coin-
iiiiited to paper ‘and secured the inforniaiion he
had ventured his life to obtain. He knew that
lie gazed on the blcsscclsiiiiliglii for the last time
forever. He lelt that in a few lioiirs, a portion
of the bcziiiiifiil earth, now spread out so
gloriously, would be lying a cold mass on Ill8
bosoni. I-le knc_\v llll‘$|..3nt.l_lllS heart cramped
like a deceased lliing witnin him. He tliouglit of
his parents and their bereaved loneliness, of his
betroihe-..l, in her I)l‘()l{B:fi“ll€fll‘lCLl grief, and again
it expanded wiilisorrowing tenderness. He was
a brave man as ever confronted death. still be
felt that it was a fearful thing to yield up life in
its young hopes, to enter into the unknown bound
lcssncss of eternity, Will] a few. hours prepara.
l!nn. llc asked forilic coriipaiiy of a clergyman,
but none (2t1lX')C‘. tor a Bible. but none was pro-
cured. He knelt down in his last prayer, and
the outpouring of his soul was broken in upon
by those '.‘.‘l]() cziine I0 conduct him to the gallows
irce. He went forth to his execuiioii, not seek-
ing a i‘iiziii’s applause on the very brink of eterni-
ty, by _zi lalse bravado against nature. rushing,
wiili his proud soul cased in pride, up to the very
presence oftlie Most Iligli, overcoming naIiire’s
jn.-xi fears, and chzillenging ziftcr_ ages to admire
the ?,~oli!::ess with wliicli his anzbiiious soul could
pass to the awful face of Jeliovali. There was
no sncli presoiiiptioii iii IIule’s LlCfllll. \-Viih a
full and solziiiin sense of the event, he went to.
meet his fate as u ('liristiuii—a soldier. His soul
was bowed in lniiiiiliiy to God, and his last \vo."‘1.~x
were, ‘Oh, that I had more lives to offer up to
my coiiiitry.’ '*‘ 5* ‘F /
It was it S_i)l(‘.llllltl scene, the dinner tzibleoftlie
Eriglisli coiiiiriziinlcr. From his own laid of
luxury had be imported the massive plate and
SllC:(Iell('zllC china that C()V(?l'€'(l_ll, loaded profusely
with vinnds. Bri'.i.~l_i gold had purclizised ‘.lie
iory fariner’s cutlery, goulcis sparkled with wine,
like ‘ iiiollon rubies or liquid amber,’ and brim-
men to the lips of the gay young oliicers, who
in their glittering LlIllll;l'lHS surrounded by song
and wine re-veiling on the brink of intoxication.
Loud rose ilieir voices of mcrriment in gleeful
chorus, wlieiifg servant entered with iiiformaiioii
that a fenialc had zi:'ri\'eil at their camp with a
flag of truce, and demanded an interview Willi
Cf(:i‘.(~!l‘u'.ll llowc.
A lianglily smile curled ihc Englislinian’slip,
as he addressed on Aid-dc-caiiip. ‘\Vliat trick
is this, iliink you '2 The rebels must be in ex-
Betsey—liow much trouble I give you !’ Bei-
scy would reply, ‘Shut up, cliild——it’s contrary
to Scripture and reason to be forgetful of good
turns.’ Many a time linve your weary little
legs run up and down stairs to show me to pot
or io find this or that fiddle-ilo-dee of Mrs. Ard-
ley’s-—and, after all, mavlie it was not that, but
something else she wanted. She often put me
in iiiind ofa fellow that was laying on to his ex,
and screziniing haw! haw! ‘Ijlc is liaiviiig,’
said a man, who aclicd to see the poor boast
wliipped. ‘Oh, I mean gee!’ said the fellow.’
In spite ofa good pliysiciziifs advice, and all
Ilie care licr voluntary and most kind nurses
could give her, Liicy’s (liscnsc, tlioiigli alialeil.
coiitiiiued. Two weeks pzisscil away. I'I0'\‘.’
long they seemed to poor Lucy, who in zirlrliiioii
to the usual pains and penalties of sickiicss. lcli
tlic coiisiaiit dread of addiiig to her nioihcr’s
liurdeiis, and the failure of her rent ii‘ioiir~.y from
her lost time. ‘Our Father in Hcaveii will nni
forsake us—-mother has ofieii said S0-—'dl'Hl I will
try to reiiicmbcr this when llccl (00 bed, tliouglii
Liicv ; and with SUL‘l) reflections she cziliiicil
lier lI)Ci1llnf__’ pulse. ‘ Is that little patient of your.-
never to get well, doctor ?’ asked Mr. Ardley one
morning when the pliysiciun came into the lJl‘C{1l.-
fast- mo in .
‘I cannot answer for it, unless she can have
a room with a fire in ii.’ '
‘ Bless me, is she in :1 cold room all this time?
Mrs. Ardley. my dear, how is than I’
‘You know, Mr. Ardley, the servants’ rooms
have no fire places, and she could not have a
room with one wiiliout turning out one of the
family.’
‘ \Vould she not be better oll_"it home, doctor.
even iflier family are poor, than in a damp, cold
atii_iospliere ?-—it in usi be bad for inflamed lungs.’
‘It is, undoubtedly ; and if the child has zi
home and a iiiotlier, as the day is line and mild.
I'SllOlllLl advise her being seiil iliei‘c'at once.’
So the carriage was ordered; Lucy's wages
paid without any deduction for loss of lime ; a
basket willi iiiezlicincs, and another with pro-
visions, put up for her and Betsey periiiiiicd in
attend her home. As the carriage drove olf,
‘ That’s a very good little girl !’ said Mrs. Ard-
ley; ‘I hope she will recover ; but, ifslie does
not, what a comfort it will be to think we have
done ourduty by her?’ -
‘I hope ilie poor child has not suffered from
the cold room ; you should have thought ofihzii,
Anne.’
‘ My dear how can I think of cvcrylliing ?’
' I am more dissatisfied Will] niysclf than with
you at this moment Aime. I see that it is a
shocking neglect of'oiir duty for people of our
condition not to provide for the comfort, no, the
actual wants of those they employ. I do not
wonder servants are always ready to clizinge
llieirplaccs, hoping for soiiieboily better no doubt.
lfl live another year, tliose upper rooms shall
be made comfortable ." -
The tiresome domestic perplcxities. even poor
LLicy’s illness, might liaive l)(‘('Il avoided by
proper qiizilificatioiis and due ailciiiion on the
purl of M rs. Ardley. There was not in her case,
nor do we believe iliere often is any want of iii-
ilulgeiice or libcraliiy to be coiiiplziincd of. '\Vc
hope we shall not be accused of inipiiting all the
blame totlic mistress, because it is our ungracious
task to illustrate her short comings. \Ve know
that the general low UlIill'il(.‘l8l‘ of domestics and
iheir perfect independence involves the mistress
ofa family in much inevitable pcrplr.-xiiy. But
the fault is not all the doiiicstic’s. We believe
the dilliculiy would be iiiaierially lessened if
young women were educated for their liouseliold
duties, and if they carried into their relation to
tkeirdoniestics the right spirit ; ifiliey regarded
them as their ‘ unforluiiale friends,’ whom it was
their religious duty to instruct, to enlighten, to
improve, to make better and happier. It has
been well said, that, when iloiiicslic economy
was perfected. there. would be iioiieed of poliiical
economy. \Ve would venture further, and say,
that when our family comiiiiiiiiiics are perfectly
organized the Milleiiuiuin will have come. \_'Vill
it sooner?
_______________,__,___.
REI.I_sIo_ri.—-Elcganl. In'1'lract. — “ He who
would undermine those foundations upon which
the fabric ofour future hope is reared, seeks to
beat down that column which supports the feeble-
iiess of humanity. Let him but think a moment,
and his heart will arrest the cruelty of his pur-
pose. Would he pluck its little treasure frnni
the bosom of poverty’! Would he wrest the
crutches from the hand ofage,and remove from
the eye of afliiction the only solace of its woe’!
The way we tread is rugged at best; we tread it,
treiiiiiies, indceil, when they send us women in-
stead of ambassadors.’
The Aid-dc-carnp answered his general’s
smile, and deniandcd of the servant if the lady
were young or old ? '
‘ Young, sir.’
‘ And pretty?’ asked a dozen voices at once.
‘Rather pale, your lioiiors.’ .
‘ Young and interesting; our gallantry is be-
stirring itscll ;’ excloiniedoiieoftlie same voices,
‘general pray fllllllll lier.’
‘ Silence, gentlciiieii, silence, the wine has
,made you noisy,’ replied Gen. Howe, raising
‘ from the table, and ordcriiig the servant to admit
ilic visitor iiiiniedioiely.
l\'Insl ofilic young otlicers were on their feet.
and all eyes were l|lll'l('tl lo the entrance as
Snruli Ezisloii adv.'inced—lier deep mourning
rendered her pale fez-liires almost ghostly, and
her crape veil tlirown back so as to dispaly her
while l'oi'c-liczid aiid eyes, toucliiugly sweet in
of him who made her heart desolate. Nora
word was spiikcn by the group that surrounded
the dinner table; the merry smile was quenched
on the warm lips of each gay iinlividual as he
looked on the young Aiiiericziii who stood before
iliciii in the beautiful niaji-sly of her grief.-—-
l-lovve advanced with stately politeness to receive
llCl', but she sliruiiliIli'oi_ii his npprozirzli, and with
steady dignity requested the body of Nathan
Hale for Clirislian lJ_llll'dl.
Ilovve ivn.-3 cvidciitly surprised at the nature
nfilic petition, bui (-ourteously answered ihatit
could not be granted, Captain I-lale having al-
ready been buried three days.
‘ Yet surely be niiglii he disinlerred.’ persisted
she. eagerly sicppirig forward-—tlien seeing
denial in his look. she added bcseccliingly, ‘you
will not rclusc his old parents a last look on the
liice ofllieir son; if you are a father you cannot
be so cruelly dcnfio liuiiiaiiiiy.’
‘Are you ilie sister or wife of the deceased
that you thus urgently ask for his reiiiains.’
‘ Neither. oh neither,’ replied the tortured girl,
pressing her hands over her eyes to hide the
burst of tears the question had unlocked. A
young otliccr piiying her disiress, handed her a
chair. She sat down, and was endeavoriug to
check her uniimclv tears, when anoiher ad-
vzinced, a thing oflai-ed scarlet and huge epau-
lctics, and ioucliingllic iipof her white neck with
his insolr.-iii liiigcr, (ieiiianded if she were neither
the wife nor the sister of ihe liandsome spy,
wisat else could she be, unless it were a sweet-
liezirt I’
The blood flushed into the marble cheek of the
insulted girl, like a sudden sunset; but without
ainsweriiigliiiii she turned to General Howe and
said, ‘I expected at least to be secure, but as I
find iiiysclf niisiaken, I request an answer to my
])t‘llllt)ll and liberty in wiilnlrziw.’
Howe cost upon ilie youngiuipertinent a look
of stem anger; ilicii turning to Sarah he said
,with Sl1I()()ll) suziviiy of niziiincr so common to
ll’llC iiiifc:eliug iii."in ofilie world, and ditlicult to
,coniend will), so artfully does it charm away
,Ui)[lf)SIlIOl'l-"'
‘ Young lady, I regret that it is not in my
power to comply with your request. The re-
mains you seek have been disposed of according
to the law in such cases. and must not be dis-
'lUl'l)E(l. I should be extremely happy to gralily
you but in this, as I have said, it is entirely out
ofiiiy power.’
Sarah was about to speak again. but with a
bow of dismissal he requested the young otlicer
who had banded her the chair. to conduct her to
the boat in whicli she came. Sarah shriir.k
from ilie otferedrariii of her conductor, though
much her ireiiibling liinbs needed support, and
walked silently to the shore; butjust as she was
stc.-.ppirig iiilo the boat. he drew close to her side
and whispered, ‘ Be in that little cove yonder a_r.
niidniglii, and I will help you to the possession
of the body you are desirous to obtain.’ Sarah
wiili zi stifled cry of joy seized his hand.
ion.’
) ‘Restraiii yourself.’ be said; we shall be ob-
served ; sail out of the sight ofibe camp, and at
midnight come as I have directed to the cove—
the grave is near by--you can see the tree-be
liesiiaied-——but too late; Sarah’s.eyes had fallen
on that latal old oak, standing bleak and alone,
spreading its huge branches against the sky, like
the congregated arms of giant exeeutioners. A
reiiinam of rope dangled from one ofits gnarled
limbs.’ Sarah gave one long, piercing look, and
her heart seemed for a moment in the clutch of
zi vulture; then with asliuddering grasp of bor-
ror she sprang into the boat, and shutout the
fenrfiilsighi with her locked hands. The same
however, lighted by the prospect of the’ better
country to which we trust it will lead. I‘cll us
moon that had witnessed thciriparling of I'Ia_l_q
their expression, even while resting on the form‘
‘ And will you indeed help me ? God bless ’
/I
Norwalk Chronicler