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Cemptd by Vuun- Lady in the Brooklyn, I.. I., In-
Oli ! chide me not Tor nighiog,
For know thul oft I war
The smile my hnrt belying,
That ltidi the anguish there ;
For uovr my drim of love kre flown.
And Ihe joy of my youth unknown.
I'd fondly smite to please thee.
But ull will be in vain,
No power on earth can euae me
Of this heart-rending puin.
But chide me not for sighing,
My bright, awect dream is ptist,
My heart, too fond relying,
Mutt sorrow to the lat.t.
Those words of thiur, caressing,
Almost my heart beguile ;
' I'll prise them us a blessing,
But cannot wear a smilu ;
For now my dreams of love are flown,
Aud the joys of my youth unknown.
front the Saturday Evening Ptt.
THE WIFE'S PRAVEll TO DEATH.
All fray children, but uot my husband !" replied a lady
T Cincinnali, when asked whether she would rather her
or hair the number or oer cniicreo im iai ia uc
Yo. Ute them nil, c.h T)"'ih ! li sweet, indeed,
'IV heur their joyous laiigiin-r round my door ;
a. ii.. .1 ?. I ..... u.i.iilii 1 . 1 j. . 1
Tu know their forms should press my hearth no more;
Vet a pang keener still could pierce my heart,
And if, oh Death ! thou plan t'st n sorrow there,
There are my infants, aud with them I purl ;
Tuke, lake my children, but my husband spare !
Sweet were the hours when first my gldlen"d eye
Gazed long, enraptured, on euch little one ;
But awceter lar thut moment when tho tie
Was forin'J, which knit his spirit to my own !
Bitter indeed, 'twould be, my babes to lay
In the cold valley, 'ueath the silent stono ;
But if, oh DeaUi ! thou ahould'st tear Aim away,
My joys on eurth would be f ureter flowti.
Tis sweet te see their dark eyes laughing light,
And hear the music of each little voice ;
Ah ! mine are precious us the jewrls bright.
That make the Roman mother's heart rejoice !
Yet, if they aiill were left my halls to gruce,
And Ae within the sepulchre asleep,
I'd daily in each smiling in fit tit's face.
Its father's mirror'd image see aud weep.
And when, oh Death ! thou hurl'st again thy dart.
Severing the tie that makes earth doubly dear.
Grant that the noiseless shaft may seek my heart ;
I could not lay Aim in the sepulchre
If but ou him shall re&t my dying eyes,
If he be near my parting pangs to ease,
Fit think of those sweet babes beyond the skies.
Lean en his faithful breaM, aud die in peace.
THE INDIAN GRAVE.
BY 1IK5JRY ALI.INGFORD.
Derp in the dell, by yon blasted tree,
Where the dark ulders mnrmuriru; wave
Where the squirrel chwps in noisy glee.
There is au Indian's lowly grave.
L.Btn8. view Hie wrrtwTi cotnr-
He left the war-dance and the fight,
5re the winged canoes' ill-boding fleet
Had cursed the red man's woudering sight.
v -Timely he left his native wild,
Aua sought iu a clime of peace to roam,
Where the spirit-chiefs in Their happy isle
Might welcome him to their blissful home.
Qar on his sons fell a withering blight.
Their homes were ravaged with sword aui fire,
And the red man s glory sank in nignt
When Manitou frowned in his fearful ire.
Let no curious white, with unsparing plow,
O'ertura the mound or disturb its shade,
Put long may the turf bloom as green as now
O'er the lovely spoi where these bones are laid.
, -IVhrte nan, respect the hallowed epet
Where sleeps iu dust the tedtnau brave;
For, though proud marble boasts it not,
A hero sleeps in this humble grave.
Degrading in the extreme Working at
some honest trade for a livinff.
rA nrooer pride Li vine on one's rich
Doing ivell- Selling one's self for life at a
Doing badly Marrying from any feeling
' A great scamp One who is too poor to
pay little debts -contracted for the Tieeeasarie-R
oi i ue.
BY ELIZA S. PRATT.
" Is all said ?" inquired Eugene Reyburn.
" All .n replied Margaret.
" Then adieu forever, and may Heaven for
give you as I do !" and the young man who ut
tered these words, drew his htit over his eyes,
and with a flushed brow and burning cheek,
rushed from the apartment. Hut his foot
was yet upon the threshold, and his hand upon
the door-lock, when a low, scarcely-heard
voice fell upon his ear, yet so deep and pas
sionate that he stopt as if spell-bound to the
"Stay. Eugene; there is yet one condition
on which my hand is yours ; one which I have
not durst not name to you. Yet, perhaps
you can bear it now.
And the blue eyes of the young girl were
aised to lus. with an expression not easy to
define, combining, as it did, both subtlety and
frankness, passion and perhaps inditfercnec.
The youth re-closed the door, and drew near
the beautiful speaker, (beautiful she was, if
almost perfect features and a faultless form
combined, can constitute beauty,) and listen
ed, with parted lips and dilating eyes, as she
" You do not know, perhaps, what it is to
feel, as 1 do, a thirst, for power ; a desire com
bined with the very essence of your being,
and growing up, from day to day, until it has
become a mighty and unconquerable passion;!
a terrible thirst, to which every thing else is
as nothing. You do not know, perhaps, what
it is to look upon your fellow-men, those
who now in their might look down upon you
and to feel that you must and will have do
minion over them ; to know that the day shall
coroe, in, which those who jwwiow ahoyofwiaonvil
you, snail cringe anu lawn at your ieer,
fawn for the very favors that now thev dare
deny 3'ou. , You do not knov this, pel,rps,,
i (and the color sank gradually from the cheek
ot the girl, leaving it ol an ashy paleness as
she went on) ; " but I have known it and felt
it from mv earliest childhood; eversince 1 have
known what it Was to think and feel, 1 have
thirsted for dominion over others, and have
felt that the time would come, 1 knew not how
or when, that this passion of my life would
find its reality. These hopes grew to palpa
bility ; and now, I ask, must this passion that
I have .to nurtured from my infancy, be crush
ed forever ?"
The youth recoiled from her touch, as in the
eloquence of the moment she approached him
and laid her slender fingers upon his arm ;
and his eyes, for perhaps the first time in his
hie, drooped beneath the almost burning gaze
I of her whom he had so loved, while a slight
shiver crept over his frame, as he replied,
"Go on; I do not perfectly comprehend
"No ! you cannot ; but know you not that
icoinan seldom arrives at this power, unless
through another ?"
" Ha H he exclaimed, drawing a pace back-
Ward and -shading his brow with his hand,
he whom vou maTry, then, must possess this
power, this talisman of might ? Is it so ?"
You have rightly divined ; he must have
it, in some way or other, or he can never ful-
y possess my heart.
" And vou have recalled me, Margaret, to
tell mo this, to put a new and unconquerable
barrier between us. YV hvdid you not sutler
me to leave the house and you forever, with
out this new burden upon my heart
- -4 1 xMudlttl vou. Eugene, to give vou Jiovei
the only hope I could give you, and to show!
you the way to the realization ot j our dreams.
Get this talisman, be above others, and I am
yours, heart and hand, forever J"
And as she ceased speaking, she threw her
self into fifautcuil, and calmly watched the
effect of the dangerous revelation.
There was a long pause, in which a strange
variety of emotions were fluttering in the
breast of Eugene Reyburn. If ever tnan lov
ed purely and deeply, he had loved the girl
before him : but until now he had pot pene
trated her real character, nor would have be
lieved that an exterior so gentle conld conceal
na&sions of so deep a nature. But the charm
had not been broken nor lessened, perhaps,
though it was changed in character i though
he saw something to dread, he still worship
. . . Mil
This power is rarely given to men, saia
he, at length, slowly raising his eyes, with a
deep sigh ; " the mighty of the earth are hat
'few and far between. Genius maylaim
dominion, and talent and learning, honor ; but
I. MareaTet. harve nemier of these, you -well
know, and may never hppe for either. Why
tantalize me thus T
44 1 would not tantalize you, "Engene, "but I
would give you hope. Is there thenno talis
to advocate the Caus
CONX., SATJiptlAX, DECEMBER 9)3,1840.
man, to" wbick men bow iven mightier ; than
genius ! -s-f ;
A sudden light flashed ironi the eye of the
young man, as he recoiled eneath her glance,
while his lingers were et&tched convulsively
together. -r ' ' - ' ,
" Gold r cxclaime3 be, a deep, passionate
tone, "Goldr V .;
For an instant Eugene aeld his breath, and
the very Jlood seemed t$urdling about his
heart, but the next he' dreAfr his cloak tightly
around him, aud rushed frfim the house.
With a feverish imnatitrnce the youth hur
ried homeward over tne plvemont. Strange
thoughts were in his heart; new hopes and
new desires were holding tlieir unbidden coun
cils there, yet he crushed them within him, or
strove to do so ; but the wjbrd 44 gold" seemed
forever ringing in his eats. He was what
the world would term i "moral, upright
youth," conscientious in nil his dealings with
jothers, and until this moment had put no value
upon money, farther
than it was necessary to
the comforts or perhaps luiuries of life. But
now it suddenly possessed new value in his
eyes. The logic andpasion of Margaret
were like electricity; tnej" had entered the
system, and, unconsciously to himself, had re
modeled his whole being, f
1 Ie had proceeded wiiba rapid and uneasy
step a considerable distance oyer the pave
ment, when he was startled from his reflec
tions by a hand laid somewhat rudely upon
his shoulder. - 4
"1 knew you by your 'gait, Eugene," ex
claimed a deep, sonorous voice, " though the
late hour almost belied my senses. Have you
anything in hand, anything, in view1 for the
"How! Harry t Ah! fyoti frightened me
sadly. It isn't so pleasant to be-grasped at
midnight, by the hand, of; one . knows not
No I but ! have spnething to ' tell you,
and he glanced arouridfhim huirriedlv ihen,
drawing close to his companion, whispered in
his ear. V
For an instant Eugene ihesitated, and the
light that flashed from a neighboring window
showed his countenance tf a ghastly pale
ness. An hour before he would utterly have
refused tho temptation, but now he pondered ;
and while a rapid and undefined thought was
going on within his heart, his friend drew hinijTHE PROPHECY AND DEATH OF THE)
aside, and they entered one ot those dark dons
of iniquity which are the bane of populous
cities, and where wealth '.and beggary -are
made the plaything of na hour, and almost
life and death the sport of .the gaming tabic.
Fortune sometimes strangely favors the
guilty as well ns the bravr, while the honest
and upright are apparently going down hill.
It was almost Eugene's fitst decided compro
mise with conscience, and it succeeded. For
many days, every successive night found him
at the gaming table; am when, at the close
of a fortnight, he found htnself the master of
a considerable sum of nibney, by an effort
certainly uncommon, he stopped in this ca
reer of sinful uncertainty and with his small
capital, immediately commenced business for
himselt as a merchant. ,
Suscess followed succe s ; his business and
capital increased. Mont is and years went
by, and wealth flowed int his coffers, and he
drew the girl whom he h; d so won won at
lhe gaming table, to lus o n hearth-stone, and
she deemed herself happy,for they were rich,
and who can deny they were honored ? He
had gained that power oyer, others for which
she had thirsted, and me looked up to him,
and bowed low as they bassed him on their
way, and flesh and blootf cringed at his feet
for ftvea a single touch of his finger.
One cold, windy night &ff December, 18 ,
just as the clock tolled tObe," the shrill and
startling ery of fire was hlard echoing thro'
the deserted streets of NeV York. Eugene
slept soundly, with his wifi and child by his
side. As the cry struck lis ear, ho started,
turned, and murmuring "it Is nothing," drew
the clothes more closely aroaid him, and slept.
Still the cry arose, loudetend louder on the
air. oi r ire i r ire i ui iuuicuuuv -mici-
vals ; men and boys werefiurrying through
the streets, with rapid an eager steps, to
wards the princely house jof the sleeper.
Still he awoke not Irom histtlmost unearthly
sleep, till the crash of thidoor, broken in
1 . . .ii L u . l
trom Wltnoiu, sianteu nun p m sruscs , mm
he leaped from his bed just the flames were
rolling aud llashmg uirougi the room ; anu
unon the instant the bed-cutains caught; .and
his wife and child were emfcloped in flames !
It was but the work of ai inst ant to rescue
them, and hurry down the already burning
stairs. But the work ? of J destruction was
done ; jmany a block and lvb or three whole
smmres were consumed befre the fire conld
be subdued, and -with ihe dyelling house pf
Eugene, his large mercantle establishment
was burned to ashes. : That Very day the in
surance company failed.
Nor was tnls all ; the morrow brought ti
dings c-f the wreck of a ship in which he had
invested a large part of his fortune, and Eu
gene Reyburn was ruined.
. Could we t-ace the destinies oi mankind,
and penetrate into the secrets of their lives,
we should see, oftener than we now suppose,
that the work of retribution is accomplished
here, to a considerable extent, at least. The
goods of this world unlawfully- gained, are
not unfrequently wrenched violently from
the grasp, or, if retained, become in some
way or other, the curse of life.
The wife lay on her death-bed. The flames
which had entered her vitals, were rapidly
finishing the work of destruction ; and who
can say she had not wrought her own doom.
" Eugene," said she, in a low voice, laying
K. .... . . i
her hand in his. " it is all over now. l have
been thinking of the past, the night when
breathed into your ear the thirst for power,
that deadly ambition which had tortured my
soul ; and I have traced it all along from
that hour to this, and (her eyes were lifted to
his with an almost prophetic expression, while
a slight shiver crept over her frame) I believe
I that this moment is the seal of that. Not that
one may not desire power and honor, but
never, Eugene, never (clasping her shadowy
hands together) should they be built upon
the sins of others, or. upon a seared con
science ? Could I live now, Eugene,' and the
large tears stood in her eves. " could I be with
you in poverty, I believe that God would grant
me the power to make you happv.yes, happi
er than we have been in wealth. But 1 am
dying. I leave one dear child with you ;
teach' her to beware "
But tears choked her utterance, and at this
last charge the husband groaned aloud, i She
him forever alone .hi this ,vprltl.r TIvs child
already lsyjcold in' death ra victim" ty .the
terrible flames that sealed the death doom of
The last faint beams of the setting sun fell
upon the death-sealed face of the young wife,
Hnd KiiffMii tiiniivl from lliR room a broken
hearted man, but better and worthier than be-j
fore ; for the retribution was accomplished.
A LEGEM) OF WYOMING.
It is the Sabbath day of God.
Let us enter these grand old woods, at this
solemn hour, when Nature silently praises its And for this "scene of death, which freed
God, when the brooks and birds unite in their .him from the toils and caret and pri rations a
anthems to the God of hosts. of his long and weary life, let us thank the
Let us enter these grand old woods at thisljrood angel, which, shadowine- his rlena.rterl
solemn hour, and behold the scene that awaits j
Here in the depths of this forest arises a
temple not made with hands; no !
The sturdy oaks are the pillars of this tem
ple, and the dome ?
A cloudless sky, that smiles upon the scene
beautiful in its clear expanse of blue ; ah !
more beautiful, more holy, more sublime than
the works of man ; for its architect was God.
And from that dome, struggling for life
through the branches of those glorious trees,
the bright sun is smiling down upon a varied
group, assembled here to worship in this holy
Here, beside the blue-eyed boy, whose very
smile is a token of peace and joy, sits the old
man, nis neaa suverea wuu tue irnsisoi neat
ly a hundred winters, an old man, with
white hair, whose step is feeble, and whose
eye is dim.
Here, beside the bright-eyed girl, with soft
brown hair and dimpled cheek, was the grey
haired matron, with wrinkled brow.
Yonder, with the Bible in his hand, his eye,
though dimmed by age, now glowing as with
the fire of a holv enthusiasm, is the man of
God, venerable with age, bowed down with
the weight of years, this old man leelsthat
he is young again.
The rays of the sunlight, struggling thro
the branches, baptize the face of the preach
er with their cheerful glow.
The old men heard the words of the aged
preacher and were glad, and the hearts of the
young Deal wiui a quicner, nuppier puiaanuik
, ; i . : 1
" Yes, my friends, my brethren J the unie
will come when God shall speak to his peo
ple, the poor, and bid them rise from their ter
rible slavery of eternal toil, and shake the
chain of servitude from off their souls.
" Nearly two thousand years ago, a little
band listened to the words of their leader in
the Holy City. ,
" ' The poor shall be .with you, even to the
end of time.' .
Boon hau hat same voice be heard.
Soon shall God cptakto las people ic Again.
Soon over this new world a bloody cloud
Office, No. 50 Water-street.
shall rise ; the storm of war shall gather over
this, our land, America. ..' : s,:
" Then shall a sun arise, ah I a glorious- r
sun, that shall drive the bloody ckrud away
and usher in the day of peace. ""'
"The kings of the old world shall see'tho'
light of that sun, and tremble ; and nobles
vyith their glittering robes, aye, glittering withr
the tears of a down-trodden people, these no-f .
bles, I say, shall quail before the blessed raya .
of that glorious sun.' . - J
"The laborer, his hands knotted with toil, '
shall hail with gladness this new day. The
mechanic, slaving from his bench, shall see
the light of liberty breaking o'er the hills, of
despotism and tyranny, and thank the lord of
heaven for the cheering ray.
' Even now, my friends, the cloud is gather-
ing over the sky. .. '
"But when this day of peace shall-come.
it Will be a blessed time. Our country shall
lbe free from a foreign despot, and man shall
know mankind as brothers.
"It will be a blessed time. r '
"For through the land the church of God'
will shoot its bright spires high in the clear, t
calm sky, and the song of praise shall reach '.
the throne from the firesides of a million of .
peaceful homes. " " .' - . !
"Yes, my hearers, this shall he a land where
God may be worshipped according to the dic
tates of our own conscience, without a creed. -These
shores shall afford an asyjumfrom the
persecutions of the old world. ; . :
" It is so, my friends, for the Lord "hath spo- 1
ken it." - ' ;
The voice of the preacher broke forth upoa I
the still air with a startling emphasis. .V;
Sitting down upon one of those rude bench
es, beneath the foliage of the hur rrppn treat' '
the preacher joined in the hymn of praise 1 ' " V ; v J
when seel A'a-.'iw - vl- ,'. wOi'-r
eeased fuVsoogr and thehumble ngrega'
aiiini; iruiu ms seat unorLirift ffronnn. ne . r
u s"ucreu it iuunu nis iorm. -. .--
Tlie light of his eye, which had shone with 1
a steady lustre, now grew dimmer and more '
The eage p group that gathered around him, i
knew that Jus hour had come.
,kjc l;'- lllvC u ocar child falling asleep, the
jsouJ ol the ged preacher left bis body, as his
j COK! ciammy e cs were turned to the summer
Oh ! if ever there was mortal man that la
bored for the good of mankind, one other than
lhe blessed Redeemer, can be called the ben- .
efaetor of the human race, it was this aged
preacher of Wvominrr.
spirit with its guardian wings, pointed to' his
bright reward in heaven, as it gently 'his- '
nered "Come!" . " U
Have the words of the prophecy spoken by n
this old man in the wilderness long, long years r
ago, ever been fulfilled ?
Has the bloody cloud of the Revolution yet-1
o'erspread our land, and Washington was''
he not a glorious sun, that drove away the
storms, and before whose power the king of I
the British host quailed, as, one by one, his
armies were destroyed by the might of this
glorious sun. "
But the good day is where? ,1
Has it passed, and brought the day of par- "
ty strife which now broods darkly over our :'
ianu i ur may we hope that it is as even now
breaking in upon us, when man shall know
mankind a brothers, and the poorshall look
up and know that they are men ; when the
mechanic shall enjoy the. fruit of his labor,
and the ricli, aye, the rich, will they ever ex
tend to the poor a helping hand ? t-
It mav be that the dav has tvLssed it m v
be that it is even now dawning on the dark'! '-
ness of this night of oppression and monied
sits so gracefully upon children. -
and nothing makes them so lovely as habitual '
respect and dutiful deportment towards their ,l '
parents and superiors. It makes the plainest ,
lace beautiful, and gives to every common, ao-
tion a nameless but peculiar charm. -I '
. !' -
Joining TnE Church. In a village of Penn-
sylvania, on the banks of the Susquehannah,
there Jived a man who Avas respectable cov 7 "
nected, but who had fallen into habits of jufc C
temperance. One night, having drank deepi
ly, he was discovered by a neighbor, leaning ;
agaipst the church wadl for support. Good
evening, Mr. Janes," stdd his neighbor, are';
you abomt to join tixe church?" I inclo .
oonsjlderabiry .that way at present," said.JT.
A blithe heart makes a blooming visage. j
- r. , "
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.... . '
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