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sympathy, which is only a shameful concurrence in vice; a feeling which you gratuitously baptize with the names of Love and Friendship, as Leda would conceal a vicious disposition beneath the glowing roses of her cheeks. Rest satisfied with your grosser pastimes and pleasures, undisturbed by us. Restrain yourselves within your proper limits, and grant that we may view the world in a different light; that we would rather nourish and enlarge our minds with mighty and certain hopes, than plunge into transient voluptuousness; would rather rejoice in a holy belief, than in wild creations of the fancy, that have no existence save in the brain of the dreamer; that our souls would rather commune with themselves, than be wasted in a thousand idle desires and frivolous follies; and that we believe ourselves to live so much the more, as the spirit soars free and conformable to its inborn nature, and as we can loosen the bonds that confine us to this earthly sphere.

And how can it be otherwise, than that all who are blessed with this mode of reflection, should stand in a close spiritual union, and yearn the one to the other, although they may never have seen or opened their lips to each other? Their inclinations sympathize, their prayers rise up in common to the same God; their souls strive in the same paths toward perfection; their hopes aim at the same objects. It is true, that a veil is often suspended between them, so that they shall never know each other. Many will meet for the first time in another world. It is thus ordained by Him, who is all-wise. The earth is not to become a heaven. Nevertheless, a kind Providence frequently so orders it, that even here they may unite. And although space and time intervene, the mind of man has discovered a mean by which both may be annihilated, the inhabitants of far distant lands in a moment commune together, and the living be transported into the society of venerable shades, whose virtue is renovated with each

century.

How often, when my soul flies from the vexations of the day to calm, solitary meditation, applies itself to its most beloved thoughts, and surrounds itself with visionary creations; how often then the sweet reflection has soothed me, that there is a companionship between minds, and that many paternal souls are scattered over the earth, who, perhaps, at this moment, like myself, are buried in reverie, and are calling up around them similar images and reflections. Then I indulge in these delightful dreams with calm rapture, and wander forth in imagination to meet these kindred spirits to my own, and sympathize with them, according to the circumstances in which they are placed. Perchance, this one longs for a friend to whom he may unburthen the sorrows of his heart; one who will understand his feelings, and so advise him as to insure the return of peace; perchance, there is another, inexperienced but well-intentioned, in want of instruction; another astray, in need of advice; another despairing, to whom encouragement would be salvation; and another thoughtlessly pursuing a career, from whose fatal termination premonition might secure him. Thus do I imagine a varied tissue of events, in which my dearest and most intimate companions are concerned ; and animated by Friendship, I consider how I would teach or encourage, console or strengthen, punish or applaud. Then, committing my

reveries to paper, my heart finds a delightful satisfaction in the belief, that thus it will commune with the absent, and give to them the same pleasure that I myself have experienced.

Take then, ye honored spirits! to whom I am attracted more warmly than to others, (for which latter no other emotion than pity is possible to be felt,) take these remembrances and exhortations from your friend, who hopes to see you in a better world. You alone can understand these pages; you alone will comprehend and feel the force of my language, and only in your hearts will the sympathetic emotions of my own be adequately responded to.

II.

BEAUTIFUL Celia!—you do not yet know your tenderest lover! Your enchanting beauty has collected around you a swarm of cringing slaves; but they do not love you. How little must you comprehend your own value, if you should become proud in consequence of their attentions! They do not love you, Celia. It is a grosser feeling that animates their rivalry. Each one of your charms in their eyes promises its own peculiar zest, its own peculiar rapture. These suitors regard you in the same light as Eve considered the apple, which appeared to her delightful to the eye, and yet more so to the taste. But I, who never saw you with my physical eyes, I can only consider you with my mental vision; and this reveals, beneath your earthly form, something more beautiful than beauty itself. Flowers, pictures, and statues I may admire, but this heavenly gift, which elevates your visible presence as much above all other beauties, as an angel excels a butterfly, this divine possession entirely captivates my heart. Without flattering you, (for wherefore should an ethereal lover, a genius, flatter?) I will direct your attention to more noble objects than the untiring worshippers of your youthful charms can place before you. I would wish to inspire your heart with an elevated pride, that will place you far beyond each rosy-cheeked maiden, in whom either nature or education has forgotten to elaborate the chiefest perfection; whose whole history may be summed up in a few words; who bloom, are plucked, and wither. Reflect, that you are advancing to an age, when the world will consider you either with approving or censorious eyes. Your beauty will attract toward you an attention which mere beauty is not worthy of. It is time, therefore, that you should learn the true object of your existence. If the force of sympathy is rightly comprehended by me, reflection is at this moment whispering to your soul that which I now think. Lovely Celia, the whole world is a shadow; a reflection of immortality, which alone is eternal and divine. Your soul is the image of the Divinity, your person the image of your soul. These colors, these graces, are the lustre with which it invests the body, and by means of which it should effect its proper objects. Beauty is a promise by which the soul is bound to entertain no thought that is not great, noble, and elevating. It is the talisman by which others should be made attentive to the lessons of virtue. For one possessed of beauty should be a tutoress; teaching by the example that she sets. Virtue, which, invested with beauty, moves among man

kind, enters into their interests and passions, and is plainly to be observed by them; pleases more, touches more tenderly, and drives its arrows deeper into the heart, than when arrayed in all the imposing wisdom of the schools, or in the enchanting diction of a Richardson. Modesty appears more engaging, when it blushes upon lovely cheeks; the expression of feelings that betray a gentle disposition and goodness of heart, sounds more sweetly when proceeding from ruby lips; and how does a beautiful eye enrapture us, when, beaming with earnest, undissembled emotion, it is raised in prayer toward the throne of the Almighty, and the pious reflections that well forth from the devout mind, are revealed with a bright and dazzling splendor in its glances! If wisdom, if innocence, if humility, if the noble sentiments which belief in the religion of Christ induces, operates with all their power upon hearts already softened and overcome by mere personal beauty, how can they do otherwise than admire this higher excellence? And in each elevated soul, from admiration will arise love, from love, emulation. O, Celia ! what a benefactress to mankind could you not become! How many fools you might shame, who are not able to believe that unconquerable virtue may reside in a tender heart, at the same time with youth! How many could you not oblige to honor virtue against their will! How many who once feared her, would then, attracted by your charms, view her more closely, and consent to worship at her shrine! How would the mere rarity of the sight attract attention! The world would believe that it was an angel appearing among men, to teach them by example. Then, perhaps, beauty and wisdom, when united, might touch those thoughtless persons who are too foolish to love virtue for its own sake. O, Celia! disappoint not the design of the Creator who formed thee! Do not so employ the graces of your person, that they will be but syrens, inviting us to death!

Forgive, forgive, O, beautiful friend! my honest earnestness. I know that you would rather lose all the lustre of your charms, than that a moral deformity should be concealed behind so beautiful a mask; the venom of the serpent lie hidden beneath the flowers. I see even more. A noble thirst for knowledge flashes from your eyes. An awaking consciousness of the dignity of your own nature, a crowd of lofty presentiments, excite the pulses of your heart. You despise the male insects which flutter around you, in whatsoever garb they may choose to glitter. You long after the applause of the king and ruler of the world, who alone dives into the labyrinth of our inclinations, and alone is fitted to judge of our actions. With how novel a beauty will you enhance our now deformed world! How much will all the friends of virtue love you! What a heaven will that fortunate person, to whom destiny shall award you as a reward for his virtue, find in your possession! How blessed will be the lot of those, whom with maternal care you shall rear in the paths of innocence and virtue! You will be a Byron in your youthful days, and a venerated Shirley, when the hand of time shall whiten your locks; and although age may deprive your cheeks of their roses, it will never be able to efface the harmonious expression of your features,

X. Y. Z.

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TO THE WEATHER COCK ON OUR STEEPLE.

BY ALBERT G. GREENE.

THE dawn has broke, the morn is up,
Another day begun,

And there thy poised and gilded spear
Is flashing in the sun,

Upon that steep and lofty tower
Where thou thy watch has kept,
A true and faithful sentinel,
While all around thee slept.

For years, upon thee there has poured
The summer's noon-day heat,

And through the long, dark, starless night,
The winter storms have beat;

But yet thy duty has been done,

By day and night the same;

Still thou hast watched and met the storm,
Whichever way it came.

No chilling blast in wrath has swept

Along the distant heaven,

But thou hast watch upon it kept,

And instant warning given;

And when midsummer's sultry beams

Oppress all living things,

Thou dost foretell each breeze that comes

With health upon its wings.

How oft I've seen, at early dawn,
Or twilight's quiet hour,

The swallows, in their joyous glee,
Come darting round thy tower,
As if, with thee, to hail the sun,
And catch his earliest light,
And offer ye the morn's salute,
Or bid ye both good night.

And when around thee, or above,

No breath of air has stirred,

Thou seem'st to watch the circling flight

Of each free, happy bird;

Till, after twittering round thy head,

In many a mazy track,

The whole delighted company

Have settled on thy back.

Then, if perchance amid their mirth,
A gentle breeze has sprung,

And prompt to mark its first approach,
Thy eager form has swung,

I've thought I almost heard thee say,
As far aloft they flew,

'Now all away!-here ends our play,
For I have work to do!'

Men slander thee, my honest friend,
And call thee, in their pride,
An emblem of their fickleness,
Thou ever faithful guide!

Each weak, unstable human mind
A'weathercock' they call;

And thus, unthinkingly, mankind
Abuse thee, one and all.

They have no right to make thy name
A by-word for their deeds:

They change their friends, their principles,
Their fashions, and their creeds;

While thou hast ne'er, like them, been known
Thus causelessly to range,

But when thou changest sides, canst give
Good reason for the change.

Thou, like some lofty soul, whose course
The thoughtless oft condemn,

Art touched by many airs from heaven
Which never breathe on them;
And moved by many impulses
Which they do never know,

Who, 'round their earth-bound circles, plod
The dusty paths below.

Through one more dark and cheerless night
Thou well hast keep thy trust,

And now in glory o'er thy head

The morning light has burst:

And unto earth's true watcher, thus,

When his dark hours have passed,

Will come the day-spring from on high,'
To cheer his path, at last.

Bright symbol of fidelity,

Still may I think of thee;

And may the lesson thou dost teach,

Be never lost on me:

But still, in sunshine or in storm,

Whatever task is mine,

May I be faithful to my trust,

As thou hast been to thine.

Providence, (R. I.,) Oct. 13, 1837.

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THE FORTUNE-HUNTER.

By Aaron's great golden calf! Creighton, you are certainly the most unreasonable fellow I ever saw! Look at the sums I have already furnished! There they are, all set down in a column, and figured up; a very pretty interest, truly! And now you are so unconscionable, as to ask for fifty dollars more, all at once! Why, you crazy head!—the purse of a millionaire would not stand such drafts!' Poh, Buckley! You moan as if you were going to the gallows, or the rogue's palace, at least.'

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'And what else than a prison can a poor fellow expect, when he is run ashore for funds? Positively, Sir, I cannot spare another

cent.'

'But think of the investment, dear Buckley; and of the solemn fact, that if you cut me now, you will stand a rare chance of losing what has already been expended. In poring over those awkward figures, you seem to have wholly forgotten the object of our enterprise.'

'Oh, surely not that dainty little object; it fairly makes my mouth water. And I suppose it is almost obtained,' yet? I believe you have told me so for more than a month. Pray, is the day fixed, and are the dresses selected?'

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