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criminal neglect, which leaves a human being ||nubial happiness is a thing of too fine a

to become 'in understanding and stature a man, but in knowledge a child,-which allows him to acquire a power, most valuable or most dangerous, according to its application, without giving him the knowledge necessary to use it aright, or inspiring the disposition to employ it for good purposes. If the view of the starry Heavens could rouse this gentle youth to such reproaches of the man to whom, on other occasions, he expressed affection, Oh! what will be the language of those benighted beings whom the neglect or oppression of civilized and christian men, has shut

up in intellectual darkness, when they see the glories of that world which lies beyond the

firmament.

MISCELLANY.

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A GENTLEMAN having appointed to meet his friend on particular business, went to his house and knocked at the door, which was opened by a servant girl. He informed her he wanted her master. He is gone out, sir,' said she. Then your mistress will do,' said the gentleman. She,' said the girl, is gone out too.' My business is of consequence,' returned he; is your master's son at home?' No, sir,' replied the girl, he is gone out.' That's unlucky indeed,' replied he; but perhaps it may not be long before they return; I will step in and sit by your fire.' 'Oh, sir,' said the girl, 'the fire is gone out too.' Upon which the gentleman bade her inform her master, that he did not expect to be received so coolly.

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texture to be handled roughly. It is a plant
which will not even bear the touch of unkind-
ness; a delicate flower, which indifference
will chill, and suspicion blast. It must be
watered with a shower of tender affection,
expanded with the glow of attention, and
guarded with the impregnable barrier of
unshaken confidence. Thus nurtured, it will
bloom with fragrance in every season of life,
and sweeten even the loneliness of declining
years.'

Literary Notices, NEW papers multiply upon our table, some of which are of a bigh character, and others a mere deception--scarcely worth unfolding.

THE PEOPLE'S MAGAZINE.-This work so admirably

combines amusement with instruction, that its contents several plates illustrative of its matter, which cannot fail to convey correct ideas to the youth, as well as the more mature mind. Its typographical execution is neat. We wish our country was blessed with more periodicals of this exalted character. It is published by Lilly, Wait, & Co. Boston, semi-monthly, at $1 a year in advance.

are almost certain of a perusal. Each number contains

'PARLEY'S MAGAZINE,' by the same publishers, calculated for youth and children, is a work of the same high character, and got up in a similar style. It is published every other Saturday at $1 per year in advance.

THE PEARL AND LITERARY GAZETTE,' a beautiful paper

ranks among the highest literary vehicles which reach us.

its typographical execution is unexceptionable, and the
character of its matter, both original and selected, pro-
claims the high talents and good taste of its Editor.
semi-monthly, at $2 per year in advance.
Published by Isaac C. Pray, jr. Editor and Proprietor,

A GOOD ONE.-Several years since, a slave left the employment of his master in NewYork, and crossed into Vermont, hired him-issued in Hartford, Conn. must not escape our notice. It self to one of our Yankee farmers, to turn up as freeman, the soil of our Green Mountains. His master tracing him out, brought an action before one of our Vermont courts, against his employer, for the amount of his wages. Several witnesses were brought on to prove that the negro was a slave-the testimony of all, however, was pronounced insufficient. At length the counsel for the plaintiff rather indignantly demanded of his honor, what evidence was necessary to prove the fact? A bill of sale from the Almighty! was the comprehensive but laconic reply.

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It was Bacon who taught philosophy not to venture to advance a single step without leaning on the crutch of experiment; and it is by following these lessons that the study of nature is become all that it can or ought to be, the science of facts: the only science permitted to man, who was so long condemned to visionary reasoning about causes by a proud forgetfulness that he was ordained by his nature to remain ignorant of them.-La Harpe.

The Rural Repository.

SATURDAY, APRIL 26, 1834.

LEGAL ASSISTANCE.-A tanner having invited a supervisor to dine with him, after pushing the bottle around pretty freely, the supervisor took leave, but in crossing the tanyard, he unfortunately fell into a vat, and called loudly for the tanner's assistance to take him out; but to no purpose; for,' says not among the least. TASTE.-Among the peculiarities of humanity, taste is It is exhibited in multifarious the tanner, if I draw a hide without giving modes, among which may be classed the taste for reading. twelve hours notice I shall be exchequered; One will run his eye over a public newspaper, swallow all but I will go and inform the exciseman.'-gravely suppose he has rifled all its sweets, and the more its lighter matter, devour its poetry and romance, and then The poor man would have perished, had not solid matter is flung by as worthless. Another, who never a person accidentally came to his relief. floats upon the gossamer wings of fancy, bends his mind|| to grasp the deeper realities and only trusts to the decision of reason. As for our little semi-weekly, the general character of its matter may be classed among that which contributes to the imagination. We sometimes cause a fa

DICK, what are you about there? said a gentleman to his servant whom he saw loitering about the barn. Catching rats, sir? And how many rats have you caught? Why sir, when I get the one I'm after now and another one, it will make two.

cetious contortion of the face, by a well turned anecdote-
when the merry will be pleased; but the stoical, abstracted

mortal might sneer at it. We sometimes gild the fancy of
our readers with poetry--Now this poetry to one would
be a beauty-to those of a powerful imagination, poetry
creates a perfect ecstacy-as the dazzling beams of the
sun paint up with glowing and blended colors the bow or
the lurid masses of clouds in the East, so poctry, to some,

brightens up the dark realities of life; but to the cool,

MATRIMONY.—The following beautiful extract is from Family Lectures,' by Mrs. N. Sproat, of Taunton, Massachusetts: A great portion of the wretchedness which has often embittered married life, I am persuaded, has originated in the neglect of trifles. Con-lon literary subjects.

calm, moralist, it would be rejected as mere trash or
garnished falsehoods. Thus it is, whatever assiduity may
be bestowed upon a public newspaper, all tastes cannot be
universal acknowledgement is centered, then why expect it
gratified. There is no one thing under the sun upon which

CINCINNATI MIRROR.--No paper in the Western country shows fairer in appearance, than this. It is got up in the style of the New-York Mirror, and probably calculated to reach as high a reputation, and thus become the depot of some of the first talent of the great West. Thus far it maintains its character well. Published weekly by Shreve and Gallagher, Cincinnati, Ohio, at $2,50, per year.

Letters Containing Remittances, Received at this Office, ending Wednesday last, deducting the amount of Postage paid.

G. H. Loop, Hillsdale, N. Y. $1,00; R. Smith, Rensselaerville, N. V. 81,00; H. Baxter, Bellows Falls, Vt. $1,00; M Rawson, Bennett's Corners, N. Y. $1,00; J. Plumb, Washington, Ohio, $1,00; A. H. Crittenden, Hopewell, N. Y. $0.811; M. C. Ashton, Rosendale, N. Y. $1,00; R. Hill, Ellenville, N. Y. $3,00; D. D. Newberry, Syracuse, N. a

Y. $5,00.

SUMMARY.

The mechanics of Kinderhook have organized a society for mutual instruction. It is their determination to collect a library, and occasionally to have lectures on appropriate subjects. Two African princes have arrived at New-York, from Liberia-their names are Charles Lavally and John Groway.

A strip of gum elastic applied to any joint affected with rheumatism, has been found in all cases an infallible remedy, says the Lebanon Republican. The prescription is simple enough to warrant an experiment.

A spoonful of horse-radish put into a pan of milk, will preserve it sweet for several days.

The most extensive and complete sugar refinery in the world, it is said, is now established about two miles below New Orleans, by Messrs. Forstall & Co. The whole process is effected by steam, and the quantity of sugar refined in the establishment amounts to 12,000,000 of pounds annually. It is chiefly exported to the Mediterranean. A New-York paper states that counterfeit five cent pieces are now in circulation. They may be detected by counting the stars, having only 12—the genuine ones have 13 on them.

The Delaware and Raritan Canal, which completes the water communication between New-York and Philadelphia, is in such a state of fowardness, that it is expected to be open for navigation on the 1st of May next.

MARRIED,

In this city, on the 2d inst. by the Rev. S. L. Stillman,
Mr. Horace Wickham to Miss Matilda B. McCann.
On the 14th inst. by the Rev. Mr. Stillman, Mr. H. Peak,
to Miss Harriet H. Noyes.

At Centreville, on the 12th inst. by the Rev. J. Berger,
Mr. Jacob J. Pultz, of Rhinebeck, Dutchess county, to
Miss Christina Eliza Dederick, of Claverack.

DIED,

At his residence in Glenville, on Sunday morning, the 30th ult. the Hon. John Sanders, in the 77th year of his age.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

For the Rural Repository.
To my Brother.

THOU'RT wandering, dearest brother,
From the home that gave thee birth,
Ambition's voice hath lured thee

From our own bright fireside hearth,
And the joyous hopes of early youth
Bright colorings hath given,
To every spot some charm alike,

Some whisperings of heaven.

But oh! when after years shall cloud
The sunshine of thy brow,
Then will thy heart cling to the past
That smiles upon thee now;
And every flower of life's gay morn,
Which now thou fling'st aside,
Will haunt thy memory with its hues,
To check thy spirit's pride.

Thy cottage home, by the mountain's side,
From thy mind will not depart,
And thy mother's voice of holy love
Will rush upon thy heart-
And the mountain streams that gush
Through the forest's trembling shade,
Will with wild music fill thy dreams,
For there in youth we stray'd.

And memory will invest the past
With hues as bright as hope lends now,
And thou wilt sigh for pleasures fled,

As time adds wrinkles to thy brow-
But go!-I will not strive to check

The aspirings of thy youthful heart, For thou, alas! too soon may know

How few the joys life can impart. Go-in thy unclouded spirit, go— Rejoicing in thy fresh career, And should the world prove false to thee, Thou still wilt find a welcome hereA welcome from the heart that twined Around thine own in tenderness, And should time change the outward form, That heart will never love thee less. C. D.

From the Father's Magazine.

A Father to his Motherless Children. BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY.

COME, gather closer to my side,

My little smitten flock,
And I will tell of him who brought,
Pure water from the rock:
Who boldly led God's people forth
From Egypt's wrath and guile,
And once a cradled babe did float,
All helpless on the Nile.

You're weary-precious ones-your eyes
Are wandering far and wide:
Think ye of her who knew so well
Your tender thought to guide ;

Who could to Wisdom's sacred lore

Your fixed attention claim!
Ah! never from your hearts erase
That blessed Mother's name.
'Tis time to sing your evening hymn—
My youngest infant dove,

Come press thy velvet cheek to mine,
And learn the lay of love:
My sheltering arms can clasp you all,
My poor deserted throng-
Cling as you used to cling to her,

Who sings the angel's song.

Begin sweet birds, the accustom'd strain-
Come warble loud and clear-
Alas! alas! you're weeping all,

You're sobbing in my ear.

Good night-go say the prayer she taught,
Beside your little bed :

The lips that used to bless you there,
Are silent with the dead.

A father's hand your course may guide
Amid the thorns of life;

His care protect these shrinking plants
That dread the storms of strife;
But who upon your infant hearts

Shall like that mother write?

Who touch the springs that rule the soul!— Dear mourning babes, good night.

From the London Magazine.
The Children's Ball.
BRILLIANT and gay was the lighted hall,
'Twas the night of an infant festival,
There were sylph-like forms in the mazy dance,
And there were the tutored step and glance,
And the gay attire, and the hopes and fears
That might well bespeak maturer years;
The sight might to common eyes seem glad,
But I own it made my spirits sad.

I saw not in all that festive scene,
The cloudless brow and the careless mein,
But Vanity sought the stranger's gaze,
And Envy shrunk from another's praise,
And Pride repelled with disdainful eye,
The once-loved playmate of days gone by,
Alas! that feeling so far from mild,
Should find place in the breast of a little child.
And how, thought I, at the morrow's rise,
Will these fair young sleepers ope their eyes,
Will their smiles the freshness of morning speak,
And the roses of health suffuse their cheek?
No-with a wearied mind and look,
They will turn from the pencil, the globe and book,
A longing and feverish glance to cast
On the joys and pains of the evening past.
Parents 'tis all too soon to press
The glittering fetters of worldliness
On those tender years, to which belong
The merry sport and the bird-like song;
What fruit can the trees of Autumn bring
If the fragile blossoms be nipt in Spring?
Rich stores will the Summer of life impart,
If ye spoil not the bloom of the infant heart!

From the Parlor Journal. The Meeting Years. LIGHT is the step of the opening year, As she dances forth in the sunlight clear; Her brow is enwreathed in witching smiles; Her spell the heart of its care beguiles. And hope hath plumed afresh her wing, And joy awakes to a lovelier spring, Bending to rapture the spirit's toneGay the adieu to the days that are gone.

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RURAL REPOSITORY,

Eleventh Volume, (Second New Series.) DEVOTED TO POLITE LITERATURE, SUCH AS MORAL AND SENTIMENTAL TALES, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELING SKETCHES, NOTICES OF NEW PUBLICATIONS, POETRY, AMUSING MISCELLANY, HUMOROUS AND HISTORICAL ANECDOTES, &c. &c.

On Saturday, the 7th of June, 1834, will be issued the first number of a new volume of the RURAL REPOSITORY, On issuing proposals for the Eleventh volume (Second New Series) of the Repository, the publisher tenders bis most sincere acknowledgements to all Contributors, Agents and Subscribers, for the liberal support which they have afforded him from the commencement of his publication. New assurances on the part of the publisher of a periodical which has stood the test of years, would seem superfluous, he will therefore only say that no pains nor expense, consistent with a reasonable compensation for his labor, shall be spared to promote their gratification by its further improvement in typographical execution and original and selected matter.

LITERARY PREMIUMS.

The publisher of the Rural Repository, desirous of presenting his readers with superior original matter, and of encouraging literary talent, offers the following premiums, which he flatters himself may be considered worthy of notice by some of the writers of the day.

For the best ORIGINAL TALE (to occupy not less than three pages of the Repository) $20.

For the best POEM (not less than forty lines) $5. Communications intended for the prizes must be directed to William B. Stoddard, Hudson, N. Y. and forwarded previous to the first of July next-each enclosing a sealed envelope of the name and residence of the writer. The merits of the pieces will be determined by a Committee of Literary Gentlemen selected for the purpose and will, after being decided upon, be considered the property of the publisher.

In all cases the articles intended for the prizes must be POST PAID, or they will not be attended to. CONDITIONS.

The RURAL REPOSITORY will be published every other Saturday, in the Quarto form, and will contain twenty-six numbers of eight pages each, with a title page and index to the volume, making in the whole 212 pages. It will be printed in handsome style, on Medium paper of a superior quality, with new type; making, at the end of the year, a neat and tasteful volume, the contents of which will be both amusing and instructive in future years.

TERMS.-The Eleventh volume, (Second New Series) will commence on the 7th of June next, at the low rate of One Dollar per annum in advance or, One Dollar & Fifty Cents, at the expiration of three months from the time of subscribing. Any person, who will remit us Five Dollars, free of postage, shall receive six copies, and any person, who will remit us Ten Dollars, free of postage, shall receive twelve copies and one copy of either of the previous volumes. No subscriptions received for less than one year.

Names of Subscribers with the amount of subscriptions to be sent by the 7th of June, or as soon after as conveWILLIAM B. STODDARD. nient, to the publisher,

Hudson, N. Y. March, 1834.

EDITORS, who wish to exchange, are respectfully requested to give the above a few insertions, or at least a passing notice, and receive Subscriptions.

THE RURAL REPOSITORY

IS PUBLISHED EVERY OTHER SATURDAY, AT HUDSON, N. Y. DY Wm. B. Stoddard.

It is printed in the Quarto form, and will contain twentysix numbers of eight pages each, with a title page and index to the volume.

TERMS.-One Dollar per annum in advance, or One Dollar and Fifty Cents, at the expiration of three months from the time of subscribing. Any person, who will remit us Five Dollars, free of postage, shall receive six copies, and any person, who will remit us Ten Dollars, free of postage, shall receive twelve copies and one copy of the ninth volume. No subscriptions received for less than one year.

All Orders and Communications must be postpaid to receive attention.

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DEVOTED TO POLITE LITERATURE, SUCH AS MORAL AND SENTIMENTAL TALES, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELING SKETCHES, POETRY, AMUSING MISCELLANY, ANECDOTES, &C. VOL. X.-I. NEW SERIES.] HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, MAY 10, 1834.

ORIGINAL TALES.

For the Rural Repository.
The Infidel.

It was a beautiful Summer evening. The last rays of the setting sun were playing in fitful gleams over the smooth and unruffled surface of the waters; the timid twilight came with a gentle tread to throw around us its veil of melancholy pensiveness; and the moon, advancing from the fleecy clouds of the East, touched with its magic influence the deeper shades of night. I was on my passage up the Hudson. While absorbed in the contemplation of the wild and romantic scenery around me, and led from one object to another, until the whole range of animate and inanimate nature was brought under my view, and thence ascending by an easy gradation to their Cause, at times surprised with the beauty, order, and wonder of creation, again depressed with doubt and uncertainty, I uttered, almost unconsciously, the following apostrophe:

How strange, how wonderfully mysterious, is every thing around us! Is not the hand of Providence manifest in all his works? but is this beauty, this magnificence of architecture, the evidence of design, the adaptation of means to its end, the effect of chance, or, still worse, is it a mere freak of the imagination-a dream? "Tis strange, 'tis passing strange.'

NO. 25. the insidious and imperceptible insinuations | render me but little enjoyment; and these of a fiend so fatal to your peace, yet think were incompatible with each other. To the not that I intend to reprimand you for your latter therefore the former was sacrificed. hesitancy; to upbraid you that you do not Yet often in my loneliness of heart, it would understand the mysteries of nature; that the come back with a timid fawn-like grace, like ways of God are still inscrutible and past the image of one once loved, and syren-like finding out. The recollections of the conse- while me from myself and win me to its fond and quences of such a course are yet too vivid faithful embrace. Then I renewed my vows on my memory, ever to induce me to pursue of affection and in my warmth of feeling forgot a similar one. A sense of our own weakness, my duty, till reason came to dispel the our many errors and misgivings, renders usillusion and light me to a nobler and worthier more lenient towards the faults of others. It object. is perhaps owing to this reflection-the I had been educated for a profession. And recollection that similar sentiments and emo-in the choice of that profession, I was intions have passed over my mind-as well as fluenced by the one sole object of life. It your personal appearance that I feel as it were was Medicine. And though it did not fan intuitively drawn to address you at this time. the flame of my youthful ambition, the variety 'It seems as if it were but yesterday that and extent of its knowledge and the phiI was young like yourself and buoyant with losophical tone of its disquisitions gave it an hope and anticipation; when the canvass offfair or terest and impertance over every the future lay spread before me, adorned and other profession. Its philosophy is what now decorated with all that imagination could I have most to regret. Sceptical from youth, paint or fancy desire. Scarcely a cloud was the metaphysical was soon lost in the physical seen to darken its horizon. And though the and led on from hesitation to doubt, and from past had been fully variegated with "sunshine doubt to disbelief-I became an Infidel. and shade," I could not believe but the hopes of the future would yet be realized. Passing over the events of childhood, we come to adolescence and manhood-the period at which hope becomes less buoyant and anticipation less sanguine. Accustomed to see them change their livery more frequently than the fields their verdure, at once as frail as the April flower and transitory as the breath of Summer, we view them but as the bubble of the waters-the leaf on the stream-the meteor that "leads to bewilder and dazzles to blind."

'My parents were both deceased and had left beside two sisters a sum barely sufficient to start me handsomely in business. It was only for the welfare of these sisters that I felt any anxiety. This was the great object of my ambition. Often have I thought if I could but see them happy, I should be indifferent to my 'Scenes like this,' replied an elderly own fate. They were young; the one, Emeline, gentleman, whose head was silvered over by about eighteen and the other, Lenora, twelve. the touch of Time and whose features wore They were lovely as brother need desire and the traces of care and disappointment, melpure as the breath of Heaven could make lowed however by the lapse of years and the them. I had taken my diploma and opened an office. My anticipations of success had retrocession of events- Scenes like this,' arousing from an apparent reverie, and at 'Suffice it to say I once had hopes, many been rather sanguine, though occasionally such an hour, while they excite our wonder and bright, and had seen them one after attended with paroxysms of despondency. I and admiration, are powerfully calculated to another fade away like a dream-one however had borne the reputation of a hard student, awaken the deeper emotions of the heart, and clung to me with unceasing fondness, as if and a promising youth, and many of my inspire us with feelings of love and devotion. for support and protection, and seemed only friends were ready with good wishes and My But, there would seem to be mingled with to need the fostering hand of care to nurse congratulations on my setting out. your expressions, a feeling of doubt and it into full bloom. It was to me the greatest acquaintance was not extensive, but the few hesitation; and if so, permit me, with the boon of life-the only selfish wish, the only I supposed were firmly attached to my interest. sincerity of a friend, whose age and experience tie, save that of relation, which bound me to I was ambitious of eminence and distinction; may entitle his opinions to some degree of earth. There was one object, however, with- and labored hard to attain it: not that I was consideration, to caution you to beware of out which, the attainment of every other could pleased with the inere sound of a name, but

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because it would aid me in the attainment of the great desideratum. For the first six monthe my success surpassed my expectations; and I found my circumstances fully adequate to the continuance of my sisters at the boarding school, where they had been since my parents decease; and I looked forward with a feeling of rapture to the time when I should see them blest with peace and affluence.

extent of knowledge and information with a realm of our own creation, from which we
depth and purity of feeling, calculated to make were only recalled by the cessation of the
one infinitely happy. Her expression in the music and the bustle of the company in
tout ensemble was contemplative, but softened changing situation. Unwilling to excite any
by an easiness of manners and an agreeable particular attention, after expressing my
buoyancy of spirits, which rendered her in thanks and obligations, I withdrew and re-
my mind extremely fascinating.
ceived in return an invitation to call on her.

As yet I knew not who she was, till some one on my right whispered Mary MHer name long before had been frequently, • Fortune deigned to throw a feeble light but carelessly mentioned in my presence; over my path as if in mockery of the coming and from the description of her person and darkness. Without any evident cause my the qualifications of mind, she very nearly friends became daily more cold and distant. answered my ideas of perfection. And now My desire to please, my urbanity of manners, I gazed on the being whom my fancy had and my familiarity were not reciprocated: portrayed in her gayest colors and decked as calls became less and less frequent and an object worthy of love and admiration; and invitations extremely rare-I saw with alarm thus far my expectations had not been and apprehension the change in my affairs. disappointed. The first mention of her name, I supposed at first that my anticipations had while thus entranced with her appearance rendered me vain, in appearance at least; struck me like an electric shock-my heart that my countenance was too highly painted for a moment ceased to pulsate—a temporary with an air of satisfaction; that I had began excitement followed-and I turned away to to mingle with the follies and vices of the hide my confusion. These gradually passed world, which from youth I had feigned to away and my next thought was an introduction; despise. A circumstance however soon oc-but to accomplish this seemed hardly possible. curred which brought the whole secret to I had given it up as hopeless when Miss light. Arabella, the beauty, was invited to take a seat at the piano. The company all appeared to take a lively interest in the music and the gentlemen in particular were all attentive. Mary had withdrawn a little from the company and stood gazing on the moon from the casement. I immediately embraced, the favorable opportunity and with some agitation approached, apologizing for my intrusion and hoping that circumstances might excuse my want of introduction. No apology was necessary, she said, my company would be acceptable, etc. The richness of her voice, sweetness of expression and easiness of manner soon restored me to myself.

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'As you may suppope I became a frequent visitor, but acquaintance resulted in the strictest friendship and intimacy and I supposed a firm and unwavering attachment. I related my situation-my views-and my objects of life. These to her were no objection and she only loved me the more for my affection for my sisters. Still I felt that our disparity of circumstances would be an insurmountable objection with her parents.

'You perhaps may be surprised that I should add to my list of cares, full long already, that of a wife. With regard to this subject, my maxim was never to marry unless it would probably promote my own happiness, as also that of the being to whom I should be attached, and further the great object of my ambition. In the present case was all I could desire. She was wealthy, amiable and accomplished and I loved her from my very heart—I had hoped too that by extending my acquaintance, and removing the appellation of unmarriedan insuperable barrier to the advancement of a physician-it might renovate my declining affairs. As yet every thing was favorable. I had obtained her consent and was now only waiting for that of her parents.

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While a student I was invited to attend a party at Mr. F's to whom I had been of some service in a professional way when no other assistance was at hand. The company was very large and of course there could be but few particular introductions. I was almost a perfect stranger and the few with whom I was While things were in this state of suspense, acquainted, were as much so as myself. I received a letter requesting the discontinAmong the ladies there were two, who from uation of my visits-on account of unfavorable the attentions paid them seemed to be the reports in circulation particularly a charge of belles of the company. They were not of infidelity. It was short and unfeelingequal beauty nor similar in qualities of mind. evidently written from dictation. It was a The one seemed ambitious of preference, and thunder-bolt to me-every hope was lost and though esteemed the most beautiful was most my ruin inevitably sealed. Then the cause affected with pride and jealousy. The other, The scene was very much in unison with too. I knew its origin. It came from the while she received them with apparent conde- my own heart and she seemed to take a like wounded pride of my youthful associates, -scension as marks of respect, strove rather interest. I called up for the occasion all the who, too often having been worsted in to escape from so general attention and beautiful images and recollections memory or argument, now sought an opportunity of observation. She immediately struck me as imagination could suggest and summoned to unmanly revenge. I could not deny the the houri of my fancy. She was about twenty-my aid all the powers of eloquence. The moderate size-well formed and as to rotun-intensity of interest increased with the parlance dity a little short of the en bon point. Her and each seemed more and more pleased hair was black and glossy and hung like a with the other and surprised at the scintillashadow over her pale transparent brow-hertions that our observations alternately elicited. eye dark and very expressive-her nose was Her countenance was all animation; and at Grecian her cheek, not full nor sunken, was times she eyed me with a searching glance as tinged with a light shade of rouge which like if to catch some faint resemblance the twilight imperceptibly faded away, her lip similitude, to what I know not-a dream was curled like Beauty's own" and ex-perchance. She could not have been reading pressively closed; her chin-of no small my sincerity, as there was nothing sufficiently importance in physiognomy-was not broad personal in our reflections to call, it in as in the dull and lymphatic nor pointed as in question. Our allusions were merely such as the nervous and ambitious. Her appearance the occasion would naturally suggest, though indicated one, sufficiently interested in the as we advanced on the chain of connection common concerns of life to render herself from one association to another, the scene generally agreeable, and possessed of an around us was soon forgotten for the fairy

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charge, for these would rise up in a host against me; nor would I plead in extenuation of my crime, youth and inexperience; for I had lately, when questioned on the subject, expressed my doubts, while I acknowledged the wonder and mystery of nature evincing the existence of a superior power.

The sight of that letter, though I could not believe it was ever penned as the sentiment But when I laid it aside and thought of the of her I loved, filled me with indignation. gentle girl I had so fondly cherished-her friendship and intimacy-her many marks of affection-our many meetings, particularly the last, I could but exclaim with Moore,

"Oh! ever thus from childhoods hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay.” "Twas ever thus. From youth up thou

" And woman's love-a heartless thing, A visionary charm that bound us;

A thought of Hope's imagining,

That soon like her must cease to fling,
Its radiance around us."

hast neglected the common enjoyments of ||will and in spite of every exertion, still nearer ||lection of that scene is yet too much for me. life, for something beyond thy reach. Thou destruction. All I conceived was now over. I had but little time for sorrow. My hast wearied thyself out in the pursuit of an My anguish was extreme. At times I cursed affections were now concentrated on my one ignis-fatuus-hope after hope has faded and religion; then lamented the foolish vanity surviving sister; and I felt my anxiety for left a sting behind. Still pursuing every thing that made me a sceptic, and deplored my her welfare increase with my love and affection. with the same spirit of enthusiasm, like imprudence in baring my breast to my Prospects as yet were encouraging; but I disappointments follow. Then again I con- enemies. had scarcely succeeded in conciliating the soled myself, repeatinggood opinion of the village generally, ere the pestilential breath of report came to blast my growing reputation. There was a young practitioner in the village, a graduate at the same college with myself, with whom however I had but little acquaintance. Whether the report had arisen with him or followed me in my journey I was unable to surmise. Be that as it may, I was represented as a selfishi unprincipled being, whose only object in the pursuit of his profession was emolument, whose professions were hypocrisy, and devotion a mockery. Heaven seemed leagued with man to work my ruin. I cursed religion and was almost ready to deny my God.

Then came pride and necessity to my aid; and I rose with a firmness almost unnatural to me, cursed my effeminacy-my foolish fondness and made one generous resolve to conquer or to die.

Necessity as yet buoyed me up over all my trials. I sent for my sisters; our meeting was affecting, but instead of giving way to sorrow, they strove to sooth me under my pressure of affairs; it was however not for a want of feeling or a sense of their desolation, but for fear of increasing my despondency As a further means of assistance, Emeline opened a small school; by which we were enabled to round another year, with but little better prospect, and an evident diminution of my sister's health and spirits.

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* I strained every nerve and redoubled every exertion for business. I traversed street after street-turned corner after corner-started 'We had an uncle living in a small village off in my borrowed gig at full jump as if in at the West, who had frequently solicited us case of great emergency. I penned a number to come and live with him, which we now of articles for the medical journals of the day. concluded to do. We arrived there in My uncle heard these reports and quesThey were well received and spoken of in September and were very kindly and affectioned me on the subject. I acknowledged terms of compliment; but all to no purpose. tionately received by our uncle. He was a all and related my history. He was much Night found me, after a day spent in fruitless. plain pious Quaker and an influential member affected advised me to put my trust in God toil and search, seated at my desk and poring of society. I hoped by his assistance, and and consoled me with the hope, that by a over my musty books: but the distraction of careful attendance of meetings, to insinuate careful attention to propriety, these prejudices my mind prevented my reaping much ad-myself into a good business. The kindness would at length wear away, my mind would vantage from reading. I seldom retired till of my uncle, and the beautiful, romantic be calmed, I should see things in a different after midnight, and then not to rest, but to scenery of the country recalled the pleasing light, and success eventually would be mine. weep over the anticipated misery of my recollections and emotions of youth, renovated And so perhaps it might have been had all sisters; to tremble at my fearful apprehen- my broken spirits, and lulled them into a been like my uncle. But others were ready sions; and to start at the feverish dreams feeling of tranquillity. It was but a delusive to construe every thing to suit their own and frightful phantoms of my bewildered brain. calm. The care and anxiety of my elder feelings and prejudices. Many strove to Ah! little do the world know of the cares and sister had been too much for her. Her argue with me; but I avoided controversy troubles of the professional man, especially health was evidently on the decline; and and my silence was construed into an on setting out in his career. My health began notwithstanding all my care and attention, acknowledgement of the fact. Some seemed to suffer with my continued anxiety of mind. she was soon attacked with symptoms de- well disposed towards me, but were actually My appetite was gone-my features pale and cidedly consumptive. Medical assistance was afraid of introducing a person of my loose emaciated—my hair, which had been turning procured from a distance, but with only a principles, as they expressed it, into their for years, now rapidly blanched. My mind temporary alleviation. Day by day saw her families. I had been with my uncle two was changed. Objects which I had once verging nearer to the grave. Though resigned years; and prospects were still on the wane. contemplated with the fondest delight, now she still had hope. She seemed anxious for I could no longer bear the idea of dependence appeared cold and insipid: the cords of my life only for myself and sister. And when all and resolved on seeking, let the consequences heart, once as sensitive as Memnon's harp, was given up, she would strive to sooth me be what they might, an asylum abroad. As giving out their music to every shadow and with the hope of better days-would entreat success here was hopeless, my uncle could every breath, knew no reverberation but to the me to bear up for my younger sister's sake. make no objections. He supplied me with discord of the tempest. She lingered on for about two months and the means of traveling and promised to bring As matters continued to grow worse, I died. My grief though deep and poignant, up my sister as he would his own daughter. determined as a last resource, to hazard an was calmed by the reflection, that she was Though this much relieved my mind, it was essay on religion; which for liberality of freed from the troubles of this world and with difficulty I became resigned to leave her. opinion and justness of sentiment, and power blessed with the enjoyments of the next. But, All was now ready and the night previous I of argument, if it did not convince them of my dear Lenora! it seemed as if her heart visited Emeline's grave, wept over the recolmy perfect orthodox faith, might at least would break. Emeline had been to her a lection of her love and affection and promised exonerate me from the charge of infidelity-mother and a sister; and now to lose her to keep her in eternal remenbrance. The But far otherwise was the case. Instead of was hardly supportable. The funeral was morning came; and sober faces were gathered making friends, it only increased the number round the table; none felt disposed to eat. of my enemies. The piece was attacked with Lenora had been in tears all night; and it rancor, and all the gentle appellations, that was in vain that I strove to comfort her in christian humanity usually suggests for those her present situation, by assuring her of the who differ from the received opinion, were kindness and protection of her uncle and of showered on me. But far from convincing the hope of my returning in a few years: but me of my errors, they drove me against my she only wept the more. The parting hour

large; and many seemed to sympathize much
with us. To see the tears and kisses that were
showered so fondly on my sister, and hear
the words of consolation that the old men bad
for me, unused as I had been to kindness,
was more than I could bear-I could hardly
refrain from weeping aloud. Oh! the recol-

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