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cism that required a great deal of thought, | her pain, but she felt that she could not stop, and, in the present state of her health, and some days after the time appointed by Mr. thought and study completely overpowered C- she walked with a beating heart to his her. Eighteen months of seclusion and appli- house with her translation. She was shown cation, uncheered by success, and rendered into a parlour at the back of the book-shop, still more painful by the privations to which where she sat absorbed in her own feelings, unpoverty is liable, had destroyed the vigour of conscious that she had drawn the attention of a her mind, and injured a frame that had never gentleman who entered some moments after been robust. There were times when she felt her, and who stood gazing with painful interest such a dying away of her mental powers that upon her anxious and excited countenance, she feared her faculties were leaving her. which he was sure he had seen before, but She sought to revive her sinking spirits by could not recollect when or where. And, going oftener to Mrs. Graham's, and by fre- indeed, Elizabeth was changed since he had quent walks to Dr. B's, but the exertion seen her last. The calm, high, meditative now became a toil, and panting for breath brow was now contracted by pain, and care she would sit on a bank at some distance from had dug caves for those once placid eyes. She the school, hoping that chance or sport might sat leaning her head upon her wasted hand, lead her darling in that direction. One even- lost in her own anxious thoughts till Mr. Cing he did discover her, and rushing into her came in. arms reproached her for her long absence.

"You must ask leave to come and see me, Louis. This walk is not a short one, you know, and I am apt to be tired."

Louis looked at her and attempted to speak, but turned his head away and burst into tears. Elizabeth soothingly inquired into his distress, and found that he wished to be taken from school. Oh! do not deny me, dearest Elizabeth. It is for me you look so thin and pale. Instead of living in comfort, you are spending all you have upon me. Now take me from school and bind me to some trade. Don't look so shocked! I have been reading the Life of Franklin, and if he, from being an apprentice to a printer, rose to be such a great man, why should I despair? Do, dear sister, bind me to a printer. It is the best trade at least, the most agreeable trade I can think of, and some years hence I may repay all your good

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"Louis-Louis-dear, generous boy! do not pain me by such language. You can requite me better by applying to your studies, than by trying the uncertainty of rising from obscurity into eminence. You forget Dr. Franklin had a wonderful mind, and lived in times to draw forth powerful energies. The probability is, dear Louis, that if you are a printer at fifteen, you will still be a printer at thirty; but another time we will speak of this. The sun is setting and I have far to walk."

It was with feeble steps she regained her dwelling, and, with a reluctant pen, resumed her task, which became daily more difficult. Her headaches were so frequent and so intense that she frequently spent whole days in correcting the mistakes of the preceding ones. The very attitude necessary for writing gave

"Ah! you have brought the translation. However, I have changed my mind since you were here last." Elizabeth, who had learned to anticipate injustice, lost all self-command, and clasping her hands, burst into a passion of tears. Nay, do not suppose," said Mr. C, distressed at his own abruptness, "that I have forgotten our agreement. I have no idea of depriving you of the price of your labours.

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He unlocked a desk and took out bills which he put into her hand, saying, "I only meant to tell you that I have deferred the publication of this work for a few months, as there are so many new books in the press.'

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Elizabeth hardly heard him. All she thought of was to be at home and alone. Yet still the future occurred to her. She offered her address to Mr. C, saying in a voice of hopelessness, “Should you have occasion to employ any one in the drudgery of literature, in copying, correcting "- -she paused, feeling as if she were soliciting charity. The card dropped from her fingers and she hurried away.

Mr. Leslie, for it was he who had been an unobserved spectator of Elizabeth's distress, took up the manuscript that lay on the table.

"A singular young person, that," said the bookseller; "I must try and find her some employment. Yet I cannot understand how such an elegant and accomplished woman should be in such extreme distress. But what astonishes you?" for, as soon as Leslie had cast his eyes on the handwriting, he recognized that of Warren's manuscripts.

Everything was the same-the folding of the paper, the very silk with which it was

fastened. There could be no doubt as to her being the charming writer he had so long wished to discover. "Latimer!" he exclaimed; "surely this must be the daughter of him who was involved in the ruin of B and T—.”

Upon making inquiries Mr. Leslie found that she who was now struggling with poverty and neglect had once been among the favourites of fortune. He described to his wife the scene in Mr. C- 's parlour, and she readily joined with him in the wish to serve Elizabeth. But it was too late to serve or save. She had returned to her lodgings, and throwing herself upon her bed, gave way to utter despondency. A low fever had been for sometime hanging about her, and she now lay down, expecting to rise no more. Oh! that sinking of the heart, when, after struggling with ill fortune, we find ourselves at the very spot from which we set out, like the shipwrecked wretch who, after buffeting the waves through a long night of darkness, sees himself at morning in the midst of a shoreless ocean, with hope and strength exhausted.

Elizabeth had not moved from the spot where she had first thrown herself, when her landlady announced Mr. Leslie. His name excited no emotion. She rose mechanically, and went down. Leslie had been examining the books which crowded her little apartment, and everything he saw convinced him that he was right in his suspicions. He delicately stated to her his discovery, and expressed a wish to remove her to a station where her talents might procure for her competency and respect. The words sounded like mockery to Elizabeth. Her mind was in that state of abandonment and depression that, had the honours and riches of the world been within her grasp, she would not have extended her hand.

Mr. Leslie proceeded to offer her the superintendence of the education of six young ladies, all of that age when a desire to learn saves the teacher an infinity of trouble. She was about to decline, but the thought of Louis roused her. She lifted her languid head, and attempted to thank Mr. Leslie.

"Yet give me a short interval of rest before I begin any new employment. It will be but short, for now I feel as if the prospect of accomplishing the first wish of my heart will give me new life and spirits. It is not to contribute to my own necessities that I have struggled with misfortune, but I have a brother dependent upon me-a boy of such uncommon abilities, that I feel it would be neglecting one

of Heaven's best gifts were I to repress them by devoting him to an employment better suited to his circumstances."

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This indeed," thought Leslie, "is woman's love! This is woman's pure, self-sacrificing spirit! That which has supported the sage in his dungeon, the martyr at the stake, and many a misnamed hero, is not wanting here. She is satisfied with her motive, looking forward to a reward so uncertain as the promise of talent in boyhood, a promise as deceitful as the winds or waters."

He left Elizabeth with excited hopes, that prevented her from feeling for some hours the fever that was preying upon her. But the hour of reaction came. All night the wild images of delirium danced before her tortured eyes, and on the morrow, when Mrs. Leslie called to invite her to her house, Elizabeth's ear was deaf to the soft voice that tried to awaken consciousness.

As soon as she was well enough to bear removal, Mrs. Leslie carried her into the country, where the sight of the green hills and slopes made her feel as if she could again brush the dew from their summits; but even Naturebeautiful Nature-once so beloved, and, during her long, gloomy hours in Street, so anxiously pined after, failed to restore elasticity to her step. It was autumn-a season she had always loved better even than

"The music and the bloom

And all the mighty ravishment of spring."

But now, those softly shaded days, which once filled her heart with a pensiveness that she would not have exchanged for mirth, gave a chill to her frame as though the season had been December.

Elizabeth felt that her race was run; but the heart, where despondency had long made its cheerless abode, was now soothed by the new and welcome feelings of gratitude and love.

Mrs. Leslie was one of those benevolent beings who seize upon our affections as their right. The heart gave itself up to her with perfect confidence. The greatest sceptic as to the existence of virtue could not look upon her open, candid countenance without feeling staggered, nor witness the happiness she diffused around her, by the influence of a heavenly disposition upon the daily events of life, without feeling that the source from whence they flowed was pure. One felt in her presence that something good was near, yet there was no parade of goodness about Mrs. Leslie-not obvious, not obtrusive, and only seen

"In all those graceful acts,

Those thousand decencies that daily flow From all her words and actions."

"Look, dear Elizabeth," said she to her languid, pale companion, as they were returning from an excursion to some of the beautiful villages on the Connecticut; "Look! that is Mount Holyoke. He overlooks my native village. I hope the time is not far off when we shall climb his rugged sides together."

care,

shrinks back

Elizabeth shook her head. "Do not deceive me. I feel that ere long I shall be in the presence of God. And yet I cannot say I die without regret, for I am yet young, and youth, even though oppressed with at sight of the grave. Yet, as I feel drawing nearer to it, much of the fear that it once excited subsides, and perhaps before my last hour comes, I may cease to think even on Louis. Poor Louis! if I could have lived a few years longer-but God's will be done!"

Mrs. Leslie wept. She understood how dreadful was the uncertainty of Elizabeth's mind as to Louis, and she lost no time in consulting her husband about removing the only weight from her heart. He willingly agreed to her benevolent proposal, and that very evening Elizabeth was made happy by his assuring her that Louis should receive the same advantages of education as his own son. She could only weep and press their hands. "My generous friends! may his future life thank you! may he rise up with your own and call you blessed!"

Elizabeth lingered only a month longer. The Leslies would not part with her, and their attachment grew stronger as the object of it was fading before their eyes. There were times when all her delightful powers seemed renewed; when the treasures of her memory and imagination charmed away the winter evening; but the flushed cheek and glittering eye warned them that the lamp of life was burning fast away.

One evening she left the drawing-room earlier than usual. Mrs. Leslie saw with alarm the extreme paleness of her countenance, and after a brief interval followed her to her chamber. She paused a minute at the door, for Elizabeth had sunk on her knees at the foot of the bed. One arm hung by her side; her head had fallen on the other, which she had flung across the bed. Mrs. Leslie trembled as she saw her motionless, then rushed forward-but the hand she grasped was icy cold. The spirit had quitted its earthly tabernacle for ever. The Legendary.

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THE SHIP-BUILDERS.

BY J. G. WHITTIER.

The sky is ruddy in the east,
The earth is gray below,
And, spectral in the river-mist,

The ship's white timbers show.

Then let the sounds of measured stroke
And grating saw begin;
The broad-axe to the gnarléd oak,
The mallet to the pin!

Hark!-roars the bellows, blast on blast,
The sooty smithy jars,

And fire-sparks, rising far and fast,
Are fading with the stars.

All day for us the smith shall stand
Beside that flashing forge;
All day for us his heavy hand

The groaning anvil scourge.

From far-off hills, the panting team
For us is toiling near;

For us the raftsmen down the stream
Their island barges steer.

Rings out for us the axe-man's stroke
In forests old and still,-
For us the century-circled oak
Falls crashing down his hill.

Up!-up!-in nobler toil than ours
No craftsmen bear a part:
We make of Nature's giant powers
The slaves of human Art.
Lay rib to rib and beam to beam,
And drive the treenails free;

Nor faithless joint nor yawning seam
Shall tempt the searching sea!

Where'er the keel of our good ship

The sea's rough field shall plough,—
Where'er her tossing spars shall drip
With salt-spray caught below,-
That ship must heed her master's beck,
Her helm obey his hand,
And seamen tread her reeling deck
As if they trod the land.

Her oaken ribs the vulture-beak
Of Northern ice may peel;
The sunken rock and coral peak
May grate along her keel;

And know we well the painted shell
We give to wind and wave,
Must float, the sailor's citadel,
Or sink, the sailor's grave!

Ho! strike away the bars and blocks,
And set the good ship free!
Why lingers on these dusty rocks
The young bride of the sea?

Look! how she moves adown the grooves,

In graceful beauty now!

How lowly on the breast she loves
Sinks down her virgin prow!

God bless her! wheresoe'er the breeze
Her snowy wing shall fan,
Aside the frozen Hebrides,

Or sultry Hindostan !
Where'er, in mart or on the main,
With peaceful flag unfurled,
She helps to wind the silken chain
Of commerce round the world!
Speed on the ship!--But let her bear
No merchandise of sin,
No groaning cargo of despair
Her roomy hold within;
No Lethean drug for Eastern lands,
Nor poison-draught for ours;
But honest fruits of toiling hands
And Nature's sun and showers.

Be hers the Prairie's golden grain,
The Desert's golden sand,
The clustered fruits of sunny Spain,
The spice of Morning-land!
Her pathway on the open main
May blessings follow free,
And glad hearts welcome back again
Her white sails from the sea!

-Songs of Labour.

THE WAR-TRUMPET.

BY MRS. HEMANS.

The trumpet's voice hath roused the land,
Light up the beacon-pyre!

A hundred hills have seen the brand
And waved the sign of fire!

A hundred banners to the breeze

Their gorgeous folds have cast,
And, hark! was that the sound of seas?
A king to war went past!

The chief is arming in his hall,

The peasant by his hearth;

The mourner hears the thrilling call,

And rises from the earth!

The mother on her first-born son
Looks with a boding eye;-

They come not back, though all be won,
Whose young hearts leap so high.

The bard hath ceased his song, and bound The falchion to his side;

E'en for the marriage altar crowned,

The lover quits his bride!

And all this haste, and change, and fear,

By earthly clarion spread!

How will it be when kingdoms hear

The blast that wakes the dead?

DYSPEPSY.

"O cookery! cookery! that kills more than weapons, guns, wars, or poisons, and would destroy all, but that physic helps to make away some."-ANTHONY BREWER.

Ye who flatter yourselves that indolence and luxury are compatible with the enjoyment of health and hilarity of spirits, that the acquisition of the means of happiness is to be happy, and that the habitual pampering of the senses is not for ever paid for by the depression of the immortal soul, listen to my story, and be wise.

People talk of the mischiefs of drinking; invent remedies and preventives, and institute societies, as if eating was not ten times more pernicious. There are a hundred die of eating to one that dies of drinking. But gluttony is the vice of gentlemen, and gentlemanly vices require neither remedies, preventives, nor societies.

It was my good fortune, as the world would call it, to meet with a young man of capital, who wanted a partner skilled in the business to which I had been trained. We accordingly entered into partnership, and our business proved exceedingly profitable. In a few years I had more money than I required for my wants. And with the necessity for exertion ceased the inclination. When a man has been toiling for years to get rich, and dreaming all the while that riches will add to his enjoyments, he must try and realize his dreams after his exertions have been crowned with success. I had proposed to myself a life of ease and luxury as the reward of all my labours. Ac cordingly, finding myself sufficiently wealthy, I retired from the firm as an active partner, continuing, however, my name to the connection, and receiving a share of the profits, in return for the use of my capital.

I am now my own master, said I, as I shook the dust of the counting-house from my feet. I can do as I please, and go where I please. Now a man that has but one thing to do, and one place to go to, can never be in the predicament of the animal between two bundles of hay; nor puzzled to death in the midst of conflicting temptations. At first I thought of going to Europe; but before I could make up my mind the packet had sailed, and before another was ready I had altered my mind. Next I decided for the Springs; then for the Branch; then for Schooley's Mountain; and then, in succession, for every other "resort of

beauty and fashion" in these United States. In conclusion, I went to none of them. I made but two excursions; one to the Fireplace, to catch trout, where I caught an ague; and the other to Sing Sing, to see the new state prison, where I missed the ague and caught a bilious fever. Thus the summer had passed away, and I may say I did nothing but eat. That is an enjoyment in which both ease and luxury are combined, and my indisposition had left behind a most voracious appetite. Towards the latter end of autumn I began to feel, I can scarcely tell how. I slept all the evening, and lay awake all the night; or if I fell asleep, always dreamed I was suffocating between two feather-beds. I was plagued worse than poor Pharaoh. I had aches of all sorts; stiff necks, pains in the shoulders, sides, back, loins, head, breast; in short, there never was a man so capriciously used by certain inexplicable, unaccountable infirmities as I was. I dare say I had often felt the same pains before without thinking of them, because I was too busy to mind trifles; for it is a truth which my experience has since verified, that the most ordinary evils of life are intolerable, without the stimulus of some active pursuit to draw us from their perpetual contemplation. What was very singular, I never lost my appetite all this time, but ate more plentifully than ever. Indeed eating was almost the only amusement I had ever since I became a man of pleasure; and it was only while eating that I lost the sense of those innumerable pains that tormented me at other times.

I went to a physician, who gave me directions as to the various modes of treatment in these cases. "You are dyspeptic," said he, "and you must either eat less, exercise more, take physic, or be sick." As to eating less, that was out of the question. What is the use of being rich unless a man can eat as much as he likes? As to exercise, what is the use of being rich if a man can't be as lazy as he pleases? The alternative lay between being sick and taking physic, and I chose the latter. The physician shook his head and smiled; but it is not the doctor's business to discourage the taking of physic, and he prescribed accordingly. I took medicines, I ate more than ever; and what quite discouraged me, I grew worse and worse. sent for the doctor again. "You have tried physic in vain; suppose you try exercise on horseback," said he.

I

I bought a horse, cantered away every morning like a hero, and ate more than ever; for what was the use of exercise except to give one impunity in eating? I never worked half so

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