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the truths of the gospel, and told of a bright land, where youth never departs-where flowers of beauty never die—and where all tears of sorrow shall be forever dried. He alone can know, who formed the union between the frail body and the undying mind, what might be the result. Joy, perchance, might again light up that waning lamp of reason, and save from raving lunacy a bright and beautiful spirit. The case of the lovely lunatic suggested to my mind the following lines:

THE MANIAC'S LAMENT.

This earth hath not a joy for me,
Its charms no more allure;
The starry sky the earth the sea,
May smile, nor force a smile from me,
While clouds my heart obscure.

Not that I scorn this beauteous world,
The work of God's own hand;
Those glorious orbs, by him controlled,
The lightning's flash, the thunder's roll,
The bow that heaven spans.

But I have gazed, while mortals slept,
On skies, star-spangled o'er;

And marked the lucid beams, that crept
So soft and sweet, that Nature wept
Dewdrops at every pore.

Ere long, as dark as death's own pall,
A cloud comes stealing by;
The stars depart, the moon is veiled,
On wakened zephyrs dirges wailed,
And thunders rocked the sky.

And I have stood on pearly sands,
By ocean's laughing waves,
As gentle gale her bosom fans,
And silvery weeds, from rocky strands,
Her dancing surface laves.

But soon, a breeze, with magic spell,
Skims o'er the troubled waves;
Her bosom heaves, dark surges swell,
Deep caverns yawn, her thundering knell
Rings o'er the seaman's grave.

Heart-sick, I leave the treacherous deep,
Nor heed the flattering bow;
Too late, 'neath clouds thy glories peep--
I cannot smile while thousands weep,
Nor joy at others woe.

Soon softer beauties won my heart,
Sweet flowers around me bloom;
These will, (thought 1,) a charm impart,
Lasting and true, nor pain my heart-
Flowers droop in sunless gloom.

I yield to them my weary head,
They smiling round me wave;

I dream of joy; when, lo! my bed

Is wet with tears, by orphans shed-
I slept upon a grave.

I left the spot: earth, sea and sky,
In unison combined,

To blast our pleasures ere they fly,
Smile on our tears, and waft each sigh
"In mockery on the wind.

Where, then? ah, where shall weary heads
In confidence repose?

Earth drinks the tears in sorrow shed-
Air claims the sighs in anguish sped-
But neither share our woes.

Then, beauteous Nature's scenes, farewell!
Too loud thy praises ring;

Let senseless harps and poets tell
Thy beauties, while thy zephyrs swell
And tune the flattering strings.

DEFINITION OF NOTHING. Ar the Donegal assizes, the following humorous cross-examination of a witness occasioned much merriment in the court:

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Aye, truth, I am; a much greater favorite the rich man's son. than you are with the public."

"Where were you, sir, this night?"

"This night!" said the witness, "there is a learned man for you-this night is not come yet! I suppose you mean that night." [Here the witness looked at the judge and winked his eye, as if in triumph.]

"I presume the schoolmaster was abroad that night doing nothing."

"Define nothing," said the witness.

Mr. Doherty did not comply. "Well," said the learned schoolmaster, I will define it. It is a footless stocking without a leg." (Roars of laughter, in which the judge joined.)

"You may go down, sir."

"Faith, I well believe you're tired enough of me but it is my profession to enlighten the public, and if you have any more questions to ask, I will answer them."

REPARTEE.

A smart rejoinder, which, when given impromptu, even though it should be so hard a hit as to merit the name of a knock down blow, will still stand excused, partly from the ready wit it implies, and partly from its always bearing the semblance of self-defence. When time, however, has been taken to concoct a retort, and an opportunity sought for launching it, not only does it lose all the praise of extemporaneous quickness, but it assumes a character of revenge rather than of repartee.

Chief Justice Kenyon once said to a wealthy friend, who asked his opinion as to the probable success of his son at the Bar, "Let him spend his own fortune forthwith; marry, and spend his wife's, and then he may be expected. to apply with energy to his profession.

THE WORST ISM.

"HARRY," enquired our friend Jim, addressing a friend the other day, "which do you consider the worst of the numerous isms now prevalent?"

"Abolitionism!" replied his friend enquir.

ingly.

"No."

"Socialism ?" "No."

"Nativeism ?"

"No, no."

"Then I must give it up," replied he. Expound."

"Why, Rheumatism-I've got it in every bone in my body, and it is worse than all the others combined," replied the wag.

TAKE COURAGE, BOYS! MANY a lad, whose courage has quailed at the

formidable task of declaiming before his schoolfellows, will take courage from the following fact from Daniel Webster's autobiography. It is communicated by a correspondent of the Independent, who states, that while a school-boy under the instruction of Dr. Buckminster, he made tolerable Those repartees are the best which turn your progress in all the branches, but there was one adversary's weapons against himself, as David thing he could not speak before the school.— killed Goliah with his own sword. Abernethy, the "Many a piece did I commit to memory-and celebrated surgeon, finding a large pile of paving rehearse in my own room over and over again ; but stones opposite to his door, on his returning home when the day came, when the school collected, one afternoon in his carriage, swore hastily at the when my name was called and I saw all eyes paviour, and desired him to remove them."Where will I take them to?" asked the Hiber-it. Sometimes the masters frowned-sometimes turned upon my seat, I could not raise myself from nian. "To hell!" cried the choleric surgeon.Mr. Buckminster always pressed Paddy leant upon his rammer, and then looking up and entreated with the most winning kindness that in his face, said with an arch smile, " Hadn't II would only venture once; but I could not combetter take them to heaven?-sure they'd be more out of your honor's way."

POVERTY.

To the generous-minded, it is the greatest evil of a narrow fortune that they must sometimes taste the humiliation of receiving, and rarely enjoy the luxury of conferring benefits. None can feel for the poor so well as the poor, and none, therefore, can so well appreciate the painfulness of being unable to relieve the distress with which they so keenly sympathise.

Riches, it was once observed, only keep out the single evil of poverty. True! was the replybut how much good do they let in! Whatever may be the talents of a poor man, they will not have their fair share of influence; for few will

Mr. Doherty-What business do you fol- respect the understanding that is of so little low ?"

advantage to its owner, and still fewer is the "I am a Schoolmaster." number of those who will doubt the abilities that "Did you turn off your scholars, or did they have made a fool rich. Nevertheless, there are turn you off?" many chances in favour of the sufferers under "I do not wish to answer irrelevant ques-impecuniosity; for, if Necessity be the mother of tions." Invention, Poverty is the father of Industry; and a great favorite with your the child of such parents has a much better prospect of achieving honours and distinction than

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pupils ?"

they smiled.

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mand sufficient resolution, and when the occasion was over I went home and wept bitter tears of mortification." Surely this fact, so unlike what any one would imagine could have been true, who judges by Webster's senatorial and forensic efforts, should encourage every modest aspirant, and every teacher of the young, not to give over at their first and unsuccessful efforts.

THE QUAKER'S BRIDLE. A METHODIST and a Quaker were travelling in company, when the Quaker reproved the Methodists for their boisterous manner of worship.

"Why," said he, "we can take more pleasure in our private rooms of meditation, where we— think of nothing worldly during our stays."

"Sir," says the Methodist, "if you will take a private room, stay one hour, and when you return say that you have thought of nothing worldly, I will give my horse,"-which proposal was accepted.

After the time had expired, his friend asked if he claimed the horse.

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GOOD IN THINGS EVIL.

"There is a soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out.'

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The Rural Repository.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1849.

THE CONCLUSION OF THE RUFFIAN BOY.

FAITH WITHOUT WORKS.-"My dear child," } A LITTLE boy seeing a drunken man prostrate said a pious old maid in New-Hampshire to a lit-before the door of a groggery, opened the door, and "See tle ragged village "waif" whom she had picked putting in his head, said to the proprietor, "So with equal wisdom and good-nature, does up, and who had come to her to " say his cate- here, neighbor, your sign has fallen down." Shakspeare make one of his characters exclaim-chism"-" who made the heavens ?" God, Suffering gives strength to sympathy. Hate of ma'am." "Yes; and when you look up, what the particular may have a foundation in love for do you see?" The little urchin, glowing with the general. The lowest and most wilful vice may the "wisdom" of a juvenile "Bunsby," glanced plunge deeper out of a regret of virtue. Even in up at the dark and dingy ceiling, and replied, “I envy may be discerned something of an instinct of don't see nothin' but cobwebs, Ma'am !" Not a justice, something of a wish to see universal fair- bad exposition of the duties slighted, as well as play, and things on a level." Leigh Hunt from "duties" performed. The good lady would not one of whose delightful papers in the Indicator this neglect the one, and she should not have passage is extracted, might easily have expanded ted the other. his idea, and illustrated it by further examples; for while body and soul retain their alliance, their joint offspring will ever bear a likeness to either parent. "The web of our life is of a min. gled yarn, good and ill together; our virtues would be proud. if our faults whipped them not; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues." To begin with the latter;-what we call patriotism, is often a blind and mischievous prejudice against other nations, rather than an enlightened preference of our own. Love is as often sensual as sentimental. Parental affection, where it is not instinctive, is only reflected self-love.Charity not seldom proceeds from pride, from our desire to get rid of an uneasy sensation, or from the hope of being repaid with usurious interest what we "lend to the Lord." Dispensing justice may spring from the thirst of domination over our fellow creatures; and religion itself, even when sincere, may be instigated by that selfish regard to future reward, which has been termed-otherworldliness.

WE give in to-day's paper the conclusion of the "Ruffian Boy," a story by that well-known and much esteemed writer, Mrs. Opie, which we selected for the first number of the neglec-Repository, abounds as every one knows, in excellent precept and wholesome practica! instruction. Her aim was evidently none other than to improve the moral principles of the young. How well she succeeded, and how justly she has been rewarded, those who have profited most by her efforts, can best judge. For one, we can never forget the abiding impression we received on reading her "Illustrations of Lying." It accorded so well with our own views of that pernicious practice of compounding with truth, for convenience sake, that we are happy to be understood, that in giving so many of her atories so conspicuous a place in the Rural, we make her sentiments our own. And we humbly trust, the lovers of truth who may honor us with a look between these pages, (would they may be many,) will approve our choice. Of the volumes now before us, the productions of this highly gifted lady, we can turn to no page where the deepest piety and strictest principles of moral rectitude are not strongly enforced, and if she chose the field of fiction, to illustrate truth; she also knew how to reverse the scene in the most plain and heart-searching

LUDICROUS MISTAKE.-A good lady who had two children sick with the measels, went to a friend for the best remedy, while the friend had just received a note from another lady inquiring the way to make pickles. In the confusion the lady who had inquired abont the pickles received the remedy for the measles, while the anxious mother of the sick children read the following; "Scald them three or four times in hot vinegar, and sprinkle them well with salt, and in a few days they will be cured."

AN IRISHMAN'S DESCRIPTION OF A SNAPPING TURTLE.—“ And what's the matter now, Patrick?" "Faith, I'll not be digging in that ditch no more, Captain. There 'aint the like o' what I saw, in Ireland and no where else, I'm thinking the krit. ter had a kiver on his back, and when he ran out his head he swallowed it directly, and when he walked he crawled strait on his belly.

REASONS FOR RISING EARLY.- -A traveller dom

As our virtues are tainted occasionally by degrading associations, so may our vices be minglediciled in an American hotel, exclaimed one mornwith redeeming ones. Conjugal jealousy and the hatred of a rival, spring from the intensity of our ing to the waiter," What are you about, you

manner.

VALUABLE RECIPES.

HANNAH BARNARD'S SALVE.-Burgundy Pitch, Bees Wax and Sweet Oil, in equal proportions; if it should be too adhesive, add one quarter more wax, with a little lard, fresh butter or oil to soften the composition sufficiently, but not so as to cause it to melt away with the warmth of the flesh and admit the air, which would destroy its effect as a non-conductor. This remedy was used some years since in this city, by Hannah Barnard and was considered a very valuable remedy for burns, wounds, &c.

WATER-PROOF BLACKING.-Take three ounces spermaceti melt it in an earthen vessel over a slow fire; add six drachms India-rubber, cut into thin slices, let it dissolve; then add eight ounces tallow, two ounces hog's lard, and four ounces

amber varnish; mix, and it will be fit for use.

HOW TO HAVE A SHARP RAZOR.-Take a strap of thick

love. Revenge, which, like envy, is an instinct of black rascal? you have roused me twice from my leather, such as is used for a harness, and fasten at each end

justice, does but take into its own hands the execution of that natural law which preceded the social. Avarice is only prudence and economy pushed to excess; intemperance has its source in fellowship and hospitality; and wasteful extravagance springs from an unregulated generosity. These considerations are not urged to encourage moral Pyrrhonism and doubt; still less to confound the barriers of right and wrong; but to inculcate humility as well as forbearance, to teach us that we should neither be too overweening in estimating our own virtues, nor too severe in condemning the failings of

others.

MUSES.

NINE blue-stocking old maids, who seem to have understood all arts except that of getting husbands unless their celibacy may be attributed to their want of marriage portions. These venerable young ladies are loudly and frequently invoked by poetasters, writers in albums and annuals, and other scribblers; but, like Mungo in the farce, each of them replies, " Massa, massa!-the more you call, the more me wont come."

A gentleman once expressed his surprise that, in so rich a literary country as England, the Muses should not attain their duc honors. 66 Impossible!" cried a whist-playing old lady: "They are nine, and of course cannot reckon hou

ors."

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sleep, by telling me breakfast is ready, and now
your are trying to strip off the bed-clothes. What
do you mean?" Why," replied Pompey," if
you isn't goin' to git up, I must hab de sheet any
how, 'cause dey'r waiting for the table clof.”

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upon a piece of wood. Then rub upon its surface a piece of tin until it is smooth. It is said to be worth all the patent straps that have ever been invented.

PREVENT MOULD IN BOOKS, PASTE, INK AND LEATHER. A few drops of oil of lavender will save a library from mould; a single drop will save a pint of ink: paste and leather may also be preserved.

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

P. M. Hopewell, N. Y. $4,00; P. M. Homer, N. Y. $2,00; P. M. Franklin, N. Y. $1,00; Y. N. New-York, N. Y. $3,00; P. M. Red Hook, N. Y. $1,00; A. M. B. Clyde, N. Y. $1,00 P. M. Akron, Ohio, $6,00; P. M. East Lansing, N. Y. $2,00; C. F. A. Bethlem, Conn. $1,00, P. M. Monroe, Mass. $1,00; PM. West Day, N. Y. $1,00; Mrs. A. D. Pawling, N. Y. $1,00; P. M. East Constable, N. Y. $4,00; P. M. Rock City, N. Y. $5,00 Mrs. F. A. F. Columbus, Ga. $1,00.

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MARRIAGES.

At Hillsdale, on the 4th inst. by the Rev. R. W. Landis, Mr. Lyman, Dunbar, of New Malborough, Mass. to Miss Minerva E. King, of Sheffield, Mass.

At Hillsdale, on the 8th inst by the Rev. D. L. Marks, Mr. Morton P. Sharts of Iown, to Miss Chiloe A. Sharts of Hillsdale, N. Y.

On the 29th ult. by the Rev. John C. Van Deusen, Mr. Andrew W. Leggett to Miss Harriett Emerick, both of Ghent.

DEATHS.

In this city, on the 8th inst. Mrs. Sarah Dakin, widow of Robert Dakin.

At Schodac, Sylvester N. Fulton, aged 27 years. At Pittsfield, on the 19th Sept. Mr. Orlando G. Maine, aged 29 years.

At Nantucket, on the 6th inst. Mrs. Susannah, widow of
Francis Folger, aged 84 years.

At Poughkeepsie, on the 20th inst. Mary G. infant daughter
of Samuel and Hannah Hopkins, aged 3 years and 4 months.
She has gone to that far shadowy land-
That home beyond the sky;
From hearts that loved her fondly here--
She is an angel now on high.

Original Poetry.

For the Rural Repository.

THE MEETING OF MOTHER AND DAUGHTER.

A True Story,

BY MRS. M. L. GARDINER.

ON Scotia's heights a mother stood,
And viewed her own bright scenery;
On Scotia's heights where Marion bled,
Where Wallace, his brave followers led,
Where glory followed in his tread,
And cheered his bright artillery.

She stood within her cottage door,
The blue sea curling joyously
Wooing her to its foaming tide,
Upon its glassy breast to ride,
While her young daughter * by her side,
Was weeping sad, and piteously.

The billows bore the mother far,

She viewed the sky's bright imagery; The storm sprite on the tempest rode, From wave to wave, majestic strode, Then arched the place of his abode,

With clouds of gorgeous tapestry.

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Again from Scotland's bonny braes,
Was seen a group of wanderers;
Who sought this western world to find,
A safe retreat amid mankind,

Who scorn the chains that tyrants bind,
Around their abject followers.

High roared the wind, loud the deep
Responded to its cannonry;
Vain was all human skill to save
Their trembling bark, a mountain wave
Came rolling o'er-one common grave,
Opened for Scotland's yeomanry.
Along the shore, the aging lay,

Faint was their cry of agony,

High rushed the wave and loud the dirge,
That echoed from the rolling surge,
While from the deep, a few emerge,
To tell the thrilling history.
Among the saved, was a young girl,
Seeking her loved ones mournfully;
Finding them not, sad and alone
She sat her down, a wretched one,
To aid her way, friends she had none,
She hopeless wept, unceasingly.
A mother, 'mid the crowd was seen,
Approaching slow and tremblingly ;
Enquiring of the rescued ones,
What of fair Scotia's martyred sons,
Her daughter-lo! a female comes,
A fair young girl despondingly.
"Tell me I pray," the mother cries,

"Among the lost and perished ones,

*The daughter she left in Scotland-the same who was saved from the wreck.

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For the Rural Repository
ΤΟ

WITH tearful eyes, and saddened hearts,
Around that couch of Death,

Ye watched and caught the last pure sigh,
The last short quivering, breath.

Ye saw her, in the grave's garb clad,
Enshrined in coffined urn;

And heard, proclaimed, from holy lips-
Let" dust, to dust return."

But, 'mid that bowed and weeping train
I marked one manly form,

Bend, like the reed, before the blast
Of winter's howling storm.

Ah! man may bear life's torturing ills,
And fortune's frown defy;

May dare fate's worst, and meet erect
The shock with fearless eye,

But tear from him affection's tie,
Or rend its golden links;

And his stern nature yields subdued,
In dust his spirit sinks.

Withlu that narrow bed, earth's hopes
Are crushed, and side by side
Lie buried, with that pallid form,
So late, his own young bride!

A few short weeks and lo! a change
Bedimmed his spirits bright,

The pledge, "till Death doth part,"
How soon dissolved, by Death's own might

But tyrant pale, though here 'tis thine,
To sever bonds of love,

And wreck young hopes; thou canst not keep
The soul from life above!

Yes, thanks to Him who mocked thy power
On earth, it is not given,
That thou, of flinty mould, shall reign
Within the courts of Heaven!

Hudson, Nov. 1849.

For the Rural Repository.

AN ACROSTIC.

Joy I wish thee in this world
Of care, undimmed by sorrows shade;
Heaven's smiles on thee, I pray may rest-
N ought but love attend thy way,
Truth be thy monitor through life,
Hope thine ever constant guide,
On the tablets of thy heart, be graven,
Memory's scenes of by gone days;

LELIA.

And when thine eye reverteth to this page, may
Some thought of the writer linger with thee.
No wish that I could ask for thee,
Either of beauty's spell or magic grace,
That's not already claimed by thee;
Then tell me what to wish for thee, for

E ach thought of thine, when breathed by thee,
Responds with every one of mine, may
Vigils keep their watch o'er thee,
In thy nightly dreams, while
Love's fond fancies play around thee,
Lightly o'er thy brow, and

E ase life's stormy path.

MARTHA.

For the Rural Repository.
REMEMBER THE POOR.

BY L. A. BROCKSBANK.
HARK!-loudly roars the angry wind
The starry snow-flakes fly;
Think of the poo unsheltered one
As the cold blast sweeps by.

For thee, the ample grate may glow;
While loved ones cluster round-
And all that makes life's moments sweet,
May in thy home abound.

For him, perchance no home awaits,

No earthly friend to cheer

Or from his wan and wasted cheek

To wipe the frozen tear.

Nay; ask not what he may have been,
Or what he still may be ;-

Suffice it that he now may crave

A pittance small of thee.

What thou art now, he may have been-
A careless-happy one;

He is, what thou, or thine may be
An outcast-and undone.
Remember!-He who rules the winds
Hath said, "the hungry feed;"
Then turn not empty from thy door
A child of His, in need.*

Hudson, October, 1849.

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AGENTS WANTED IN EVERY SECTION OF THE UNITED STATES TO SELL

SEARS' PICTORIAL FAMILY ANNUAL,

AN ILLUSTRATED WORK,

Comprising a fine series of Embellishments, with interesting descriptions, in one handsome large OCTAVO of about 400 pages, elegantly bound in gilt, and lettered in the most finished style of modern book-making,

Price only Two Dollars.

This splendid volume comprises within itself a Complete Library of Useful and Entertaining Knowledge, condensed in form, familiar in style, copious in information, embracing an extensive range of subjects. The Engravings (over 200 in number) are strictly illustrative, being representations of actual Scenery, Costumes, Munners, Monuments, &c.

On examination, the above work will be pronounced by every intelligent person, under whose observation it may come, as one of the most suitable presents for a father to present to his family, as regards both the quality and number of its Embellishments and the pure character of its contents. In preparing every article for its pages, the greatest caution has been used to admit nothing but of an improving and instructive character.

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To men of enterprise and tact, this work alone, offers an opportunity for profitable employment seldom to be met with. There is not a town in the Umon where a right, honest and well-disposed person can fail selling from 50 to 200 volumes, according to the population.

All persons wishing sample copies, to examine or procure Subscribers with, can receive one or more, substantially bound in paper covers*-the postage not exceeding 30 cents on each volume so forwarded, on the receipt of ONE DOLLAR. In this way, no matter where a person resides, if only within the reach of a Post Office, he can obtain a copy of the FAMILY ANNUAL.

AGENTS WANTED in every Town and County throughout the Union, to sell "Sears' New and Popular Pictorial Works;" universally acknowledge to be the best and cheapest ever published, as they certainly are the most saleable. Any active agent may clear $500 or $1000 a year. A cash capital of at least $35 or $50 will be necessary. Full particulars of the principles and profits of the agency will be given on application, either personally or by letter. The postage must in all cases be paid. Please to address, ROBERT SEARS, Publisher, 128 Nassau-Street, New-York *NOTE. The only kind we are allowed to forward under the Post Office Law. TO PUBLISHERS OF NEWSPAPERS THROUGHOUT THE UNITED STATES.

Newspapers copying this advertisement, entire, well displayed, as above, without any alteration or abridgement, (including this notice,) and giving it two inside insertions, shall receive a copy of the" ANNUAL," (subject to their order,) by sending direct to the publisher.

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ONE DOLLAR PER ANNUM.

VOLUME XXVI.

Semi-monthly Journal, Embellished with Engravings.

W. B. STODDARD, EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR.
HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 8, 1849.

FREDRIKA

FREDRIKA BREMER.

BY MARY HOW IT T.

Of herself, Fredrika Bremer says: "If it should so happen that, as regards me, any one should wish to cast a kind glance behind the curtain which conceals a somewhat uneventful life, he may discover that I was born on the banks of the Aura, a river that flows through Abo, and that several of the venerable and learned men of the university were even my godfathers. At the age of three, I was removed, with my family, from my native country of Finland. Of this part of my life I have only retained one single memory. This memory is a word, a mighty name, which in the depths of Paganism, was pronounced by the Finnish people with fear and love; and is still so

BREMER.

pronounced in these days, although perfected by Christianity. I still fancy that I often hear His word spoken aloud over the trembling earth by the thunder of Thor, or by the gentle winds which bring to it refreshment and consolation. That word is-Jumala; the Finnish name for God, both in Pagen and Christian times.

If any one kindly follows me from Finland into Sweden, where my father purchased an estate after he had sold his property in Finland, I would not trouble him to accompany me from childhood to youth, with the inward elementary chaos, and the outward, uninteresting and commonplace pic. ture of a family, which every autumn removed, in their covered carriage, from their estate in the country to their house in the capital; and every spring trundled back again from their house in

PAYABLE IN ADVANCE.

NUMBER

5.

the capital to their country scat; nor how there were young daughters in the family who played on the piano, sang ballads, read novels, drew in black chalk, and looked forward, with longing glances, to the future, when they hoped to see and do wonderful things. With humility, I must confess, I always regarded myself as a heroine."

Casting a glance into the family circle, it would be seen that they collected in the evening, in the great drawing-room of their country house, and read aloud; that the works of the German poets were read, especially Schiller, whose Don Carlos mude a profound impression upon the youthful mind of one of the daughters in particular.

A deeper glance into her soul, will show that a heavy reality of sorrow was spreading, by degrees a dark cloud over the splendour of her youthful dreams. Like carly evening, it came over the path of the young pilgrim of life: and earnestly, but in vain, she endeavoured to escape it. The air was dimmed as by a heavy fall of snow, darkness increased, and it became night. And in the depth of that endless winter night, she heard lamenting voices from the east, and from the west; from plant and animal; from dying nature and despairing humanity; and she saw life, with all its beau. ty, its life, its throbbing heart, buried alive beneath a chill covering of ice. Heaven seemed dark and void;-there seemed to her no eyes, even as there was no heart. All was dead, or, rather, all was dying-excepting pain.

There is a significant picture, at the commencement, in every mythology. In the beginning, there is a bright, and warm, and divine principle, which allics itself to darkness; and from this union of light and darkness-of fire and tears-proceeds a God. I believe that something similar to this takes place in every human being who is born to a deeper life; and something similar took place in her who writes these lines.

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Her

Looking at her a few years later, it will be seen that a great change has taken place in her. eyes have long been filled with tears of unspeakable joy; she is like one who has arisen from the grave to a new life. What has caused this change? Have her splendid youthful dreams been accomplished? Is she a heroine ? Has she become victorious in beauty, or in renown? No; nothing of this kind. The illusions of youth are pastthe season of youth is over. And yet she is again young; for there is freedom in the depth of her has been spoken soul, and "let there be light above its dark chaos; and the light has penetrated the darkness, and illumined the night, whilst, with

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her eye fixed
upon that light, she has exclaimed
with tears of joy, "Death, where is thy sting?
Grave, where is thy victory?"

Many a grave since then has been opened to re ceive those whom she tenderly loved many a pang has been felt since then; but the heart throbs joyfully, and the dark night is over. Yes, it is over; but not the fruit which it has borne; for there are certain flowers which first unfold in the darkness; so is it also in the midnight hours of great suffering, the human soul opens itself to the light of the eternal stars.

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they will say, "but" &c. and they will go on and
make out anything but a clever fellow."
The qualifying "but" must be interposed even
in the case of Deacon Goodman. He had a fault.
He would sing in meeting. Call you that a
fault?" said the reader. Well, then, kind reader,
call it a misfortune. "But why a misfortune?"
I will tell thee. Nature has so formed us, that
some have the "musical ear," and others not.-
Now this "musical ear, has nothing to do with
real character, or intellectual power, but yet the
persons who have not the "musical ear" ought
never to sing in meeting. If the do, they will be
sure to annoy others, and make themselves ridicu-
lous.

"If it be desired to hear anything of my writings it may be said that they began in the eighth year of my age, when I apostrophised the moon in French verses, and that during the greater part of Deacon Goodman had not the "musical ear."my youth I continued to write in the same sublime Whether it were the "Messiah," or the " Creation," strain. I wrote under the impulse. of restless or Jim Crow, or Zip Coon, it was all the same to youthful feelings-I wrote in order to write.-him, so far as music was concerned; it was just so Afterwards, I seized the pen under the influence of much singing. Whether the artist were Sivori, another motive, and wrote-that which I had or Ole Bull, or poor old John Casco, it was just so much fiddling.

read.

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He had not the" musical ear," and still less the musical voice; but yet he would sing in meeting. And the gentle and respectful remonstrances of the choir leaders were met with the universal reply; "Singing is praying; you might as well ask me not to pray; I shall sing in meeting.

It is now proper for the biographer to hint at another trait in the Deacon's character. He was "set in his way;" or in other words he was sadly obstinate in what he thought a good cause; and he was generally correct in appreciating the merits of the cause.

Fredrika Bremier's works are: The Neighbors; The Home; The II. Family; Strife and Peace; The President's Daughter; Nina; The Diary; In Delecarlia; Brothers and Sisters: The Midnight Sun; together with smaller tales, and a considerable number of tracts and papers, pub. lished, at various times, in the Swedish journals.—and All these works I have, with the assistance of my husband, translated.

We all know that musical people are apt to be
sensitive, and sometimes a little capricious; and
who has ever known a theatrical orchestra, or a
village choir, that had not a regular blow up once
a year? Beyond all doubt, Deacon Goodman's
singing was a very serious disturbance to the choir
no small annoyance to the congregation.
Yet in consideration of his great merits he was
indulged; and his regular Sunday performances
drew forth the remark, that if music-murder was a
sin, Deacon Goodman would have much to answer
for.

Miss Bremier has lately been visiting at Mr. Downing's residence, Newburgh. She is plain looking, short in stature, with fair complexion, light hair and blue eyes. There is a great deal of good- But there is a point beyond which forbearance is ness in her countenance; but not much passion. We no longer a virtue. Great pains had been taken learn that the Swedish author left the city of New-by the choir in getting up a new anthem, (selected York on the 27th ult. for Boston, in company with from Mozart) for Thanksgiving day, and the very an Eastern family of Brooklyn, gem of the piece was a solo, which had been assigned to the sweetest voice, and the prettiest little girl in the village.

TALE

Wherein is shown the inconvenience of NOT having & "Musical Eur."

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46

were perfectly

had thrown him, and either his leg or neck was
broken; the boy who had brought the news had
forgotten which. "I hope it is not his neck,"
said a rich and charitable old church member.-
When Deacon Goodman heard that remark he
held up his hands and exclaimed,
66 I never!"
Now the Deacon dearly loved good preaching,
and the meeting house was to him, house of feasting.
But his religion was of very practical kind; and
although he thought but precious little of his good
works, he took care to do a great many of them.
and was far from believing, with Amsdorf, that
"good works are an impediment to salvation."-
So he said to Mrs. Goodman “do you go to the
house of feasting and get all the good you can, and
I will go to the house of mourning and do all I can."
And away he went to see, and if possible to re-
lieve, the Universalist minister.

In the meantime the congregation assembled, and the worship proceeded in the usual way. At length came the anthem. It even went beyond expectation. A long "rest" immediately precedcd the solo. It was no rest for poor "little Mary." It was the most anxious minute she had ever pas sed. She arose blushing and trembling. Her agitation gave a tremor to her voice, which added to the pathos of the music. It was beautiful.

Now, Deacon Goodman always made it a rule when any accident had detained him until after worship had commenced, to come in very softly. How different from the fashionable flourish. All were intent on the solo.

None heard, and but few saw, Deacon Goodman enter his pew, and take up the sheet on which the words of the anthem were printed.

Unlike that of many singers, the articulation of "little Mary" was perfect. The Deacon soon found the piece; and to the astonishment of the congregation, indignation of the choir, and the perfect horror of " little Mary," he "struck in," and accompanied her through the solo. Accompani. ed!! "Oft in the stilly night," accompanied by Captain Bragg's battery, would give some notion of it. Poor little Mary was sick a fortnight."Why don't you cut that old fellow's tongue off?" said one of the Boston singers.

er,

"What good would it do?" said the choir lead-
"he would howl through his nose."
They were all very cross.

As for the Deacon, he looked around as innocent as a lamb, and thought he had sung as well as any of them.

Immediately after meeting, the choir leader callled on the minister. "Sir," said he, "this must stop. If Deacon Goodman sings again, I do

felt the difficulty; but what can we do? Deacon Goodman is a most excellent man, and his only faults are, that he is rather set in his way, and will sing in meeting."

"But Deacon Goodman is a reasonable man," said the choir leader.

All who attended the rehearsals SOME PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF delighted with the solo as sung by little Mary." DEACON GOODMAN, It was very difficult. It was marked from begin- | not." ning to end, "Andantino," Dolce," " Affetuoso," "Oh, I know," said the minister, "I have long "Crescendo," Piano," "Pianissimo," with DEACON GOODMAN was extensively known not changing keys, and flats and sharps springing out merely in his own parish, but through several miles from unexpected places, but she had conquered it all. of the surrounding country, from his amiable dis. Three or four accomplished singers, who had position, active benevolence and unquestioned picty. come from Boston to pass Thanksgiving in the So thoroughly was the Deacon's character estab.country, and who attended the last rehearsal, were lished, that when the people of the neighboring towns saw him passing by, they would say"that man was rightly named, for if there ever was a good man, he is one." And from this there was no dissenting voice. Nay; I am wrong in saying that; for there are some who never hear any body praised without an interposing and qualifying but." "He may be well enough on the whole,

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in raptures with little Mary's singing.

They had heard Tedesco, and Biscaccianti, and Madame Bishop; and yet they said, "for a coun. try girl she is a prodigy."

In due time Thanksgiving day arrived; and while the "second bell" was ringing, news came to the village that a very serious accident had happened to the Universalist minister. His horse

"On most occasions," replied the minister. "Do go and see him, sir, for my mind is made up; if he sings again in meeting I do not."

"Deacon Goodman," said the minister, "I have come on a very delicate errand; I have come to present the respectful request of the choir that you would not sing in meeting."

The Deacon was thunderstruck but he soon

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