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Anecdote of Washington.-ANONYMOUS. IMMEDIATELY after the organization of the present government, Gen. Washington repaired to Fredericksburg, to pay his humble duty to his mother, preparatory for his departure to New York. An affecting scene ensued. The son feelingly remarked the ravages, which a torturing disease had made upon the aged frame of his mother, and thus addressed her.
• The people, Madam, have been pleased, with the most flattering unanimity, to elect me to the chief magistracy of the United States, but before I can assume the functions of my office, I have come to bid you an affectionate farewell. So soon as the public business, which must necessarily be encountered in arranging a new government, can be disposed of, I shall hasten to Virginia, and?
Here the matron interrupted him. “You will see me no more. My great age, and the disease, which is fast approaching my vitals, warn me I shall not be long of this world. I trust in God, I am somewhat prepared for a better. But go, George, fulfil the high destinies which Heaven appears to assign to you; go, my son, and may that Heaven, and your mother's blessing be with you always.'
The President was deeply affected. His head rested upon the shoulder of his parent, whose aged arm feebly, yet fondly encircled his neck. That brow, on which fame had wreathed the purest laurel virtue ever gave to created man, relaxed from its lofty bearing. That look, which could have awed a Roman senate in its Fabrician day, was bent in filial tenderness, upon the time-worn features of this venerable matron.
The great man wept. A thousand recollections crowded upon his mind, as memory, retracing scenes long past, carried him back to the maternal mansion, and the days of his youth; and there the centre of attraction was his mother, whose care, instruction and discipline had prepared him to reach the topmost height of laudable ambition; yet how were his glories forgotten while he gazed upon her, from whom, wasted by time and malady, he must soon part to meet no
The matron's predictions were true. The disease, which
had so long preyed upon her frame, completed its triumph, and she expired at the age of eighty-five, confiding in the promises of immortality to the humble believer.
To the North Star.-ANONYMOUS.
thou hast gazed, as thou art gazing now,
Forever doomed to roll.
But thou, O beacon bright in heaven's blue sea!
That shipwrecked men may look to thee.
And midnight shrouds his billowy track,
He turns for guidance from the sky.
Through all her curved rim.
The planets in their orbits disappear,
But thou art fastened in thy sphere.
Turns for a refuge from their strife,
· The Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose window opened towards the sun-rising; the name of the chamber was Peace ; where he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and sang.'
Now, brighter than the host, that, all night long,
Canst thou grow sad,'thou say'st, 'as earth grows bright?
Of ills and pains of life, must be the cure, And breathe in kindred calm, and teach thee to endure,'.
I feel its calm. But there's a sombrous hue
The silent city emptied of its throng,
But wrong, and hate, and love, and grief, and mirth, Will quicken soon; and hard, hot toil and strife, With headlong purpose, shake this sleeping earth With discord strange, and all that man calls life. With thousand scattered beauties nature 's rife; And airs, and woods, and streams, breathe harmonies:Man weds not these, but taketh art to wife; Nor binds his heart with soft and kindly ties: He, feverish, blinded lives, and, feverish, sated dies.
And 't is because man useth so amiss
Thou look’st towards earth: but yet the heavens are thine; While I to earth am bound:--When will the heavens be mine?
If man would but his finer nature learn,
But when I see cold man of reason proud,
But not for this alone, the silent tear
And like the stricken deer, with sickly eye,
Ye holy thoughts, lift up my soul on high!-
And when I grieve, O, rather let it be
A beauty see—that I this mother mild
How suddenly that straight and glittering shaft
Be called my chamber, Peace, when ends the day; And let me with the dawn, like Pilgrim, sing and pray!
Alpine Flowers.--MRS. SIGOURNEY.
Meek dwellers mid yon terror-stricken cliffs!
-Tree nor shrub