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our hearts, where is there so good a place and time, as labor have accomplished their object, the pile is lighted in this, God's own temple, and the work of his own hand, and the husbandman pauses; here where lately stood the where the troubled human spirit has never mingled con- forest, he will sow his grain, and the next year will tention with the harmonies of nature. In what other yield an abundance to those dear to him. Is this not, place can man well raise his thoughts to Heaven, and then, a sacrifice of rejoicing ? while he has left care and strife far away, what better This column of smoke has mounted high up into the place to call his heart and mind to a general account atmosphere, and it is scarcely connected with the confor the misdeeds of a year, or what better place to form suming pile, and at last forms a beautiful cloud, floating good resolutious for the future, when free from distrac-away in the clear sky, to visit its refreshing moisture uption and surrounded by all that induces contemplation. on some distant point. Beautiful emblem ! and how Perhaps my readers may not agree with me, but I must beautiful in its course and consequences is every little confess for myself, that I am never so devout, as when cloud thus raised. amid the creations of God's hands; when far away from We cannot now remain to point out all the beautiful man, be it where it may, in the wilderness, or upon the scenes from these mountain summits. The reader must ocean like prairie, by the mountain torrent, or in the lone visit them; there is no spot on the continent better worwatch at sea, when all else sleep, and one feels alone, thy of his time; visit them to see for himself, and to know standing upon the frail bark, and looking over the wide what wild beauties, what grand and picturesque sceneocean, undimmed on either side as far as the eye can ry he has within his reach ; visit them to know from his reach.
own experience something of our own state and counStill, I have more inducements to offer you, but do not try, and to learn practically the difference of surface forget that this little streamlet, which we have left, after produced by difference of Geological structure. The gathering from all sides, after joining in eternal embrace traveller will find scarcely a rock besides coarse Granwith many like itself, going on and strengthening as it ite, and boulders of iron ore, while if he will take the goes, becomes at length the Hudson !. The same Hud- trouble, he may see some of the richest and most extenson that flows through the mountains of the Highland, sive beds of iron in the known world. Viens of sevesuch a majestic stream. What a contrast ! If you will fol. ral hundred feet in width, with a length of two or three low another, (the eastern branch of this river,) for a few miles are known within a mile of the point at which I miles, you will find yourself between high mountains, have placed his rendezvous. The mountain peaks are of and by turning to the right, you are in full view of Mt. dark feldopathic rock, often cut through by enormous Marcy, the highest point in N. York. If you have the dykes of trap, which seem to have rent the mass from courage to ascend this, you will be well repaid for the top to bottom. But if the reader be geologically introuble. A chance indeed, but you may find the ground clined, he will take with him the Report of this District, frozen before you reach the top, and a supply of ice- and we will not therefore trouble him with a detail. If water in the little depressions of the granite dome which he is fond of sporting, he will find plenty of game, more surmounts it. Below you, on every side, like a sea, particularly towards autumn; the deer, the bear, the raised in broken waves, lie the mountain peaks and panther, and even the Moose still inhabit these regions; ranges, and far in the distance, the Green Mountains of we would pray you to spare the latter, but we fear our Vermont, and still farther, the White Mountains of New prayer would be unheeded. Still if we have sympathy Hampshire, while between you and these, lies the long for the beasts, how painful to think that they are so fast valley of Champlain, with its smooth water, hidden by disappearing before men. A few years since, and the the fleecy fog cloud, which rises and is dissipated by the elk was common in this wilderness, but they have dissun. Turning around, you see, as it were, at your feet, appeared, and few can be found east of the Mississippi the exquisitely beautiful little lakes, so completely sur- or south of the Canadian wild. The Moose will soon rounded and shut in by the forest, that you can dream follow, while the deer seem to increase, to a certain them the haunts of the sylvan deities, while fairies dance point, as man advances, as they are less exposed to the upon their shores. A full score of lakes, and sheets of wa- depredations of wolves, on whose head a bounty is set, ter, can be counted from this mountain peak, and in a very while by common consent, if not by law, the deer are clear atmosphere, half another score can be added to to a certain extent protected. the number of those within view.
But where, perhaps, the reader may inquire, are the The misty clouds come rolling along up the side of the ancient proprietors of the soil, the men whose hunting mountain, and soon envelope you in a dense cold fog, grounds bave been profaned ? more rare, even than the which soon clears off, and you see the floating vapor driv- most timid of the wild beasts, is the Indian in this wilen onward over the valley, while another is creeping up derness; and yet a few of them still make their annual from the other side, to surround you. For miles around visits to these hunting grounds; their temporary camps and westward as far as the eye can reach, there is no are sometimes met with, and always readily distinguishsign of human beings, though perchance a log cabin ored from those of the white hunter. But the favorite antwo may exist. In another dire on, though you see imal hunted by these Indians is extinct; the last of the no clearing or habitation, the rapidly rising dark smoke beavers, graces the state collection in Albany, but the and flame, tells you of the burning of a fallow; that last of the Aboriginee's do not still leave their once fathe forest has been laid low under the axe of the settler, vorite hunting grounds. and the smoke of the first sacrifice is ascending to Hea- Reader in search of a place of recreation, and reinvig
You can fancy too, the glad hearts and joyous oration, where you can see what you cannot find elsecountenances that surround this fire; the long days of where, and where every faculty of mind and body will
FROM THE FRENCH OF N. FOURNIER.
be awakened, visit the mountains of Essex, the Adiron-him. The Quaker could scarcely think of escaping; dacks, and see for yourself. Amid all our digressions, so he put on a bold face and rode on. On approaching the balf of the inducements have not been told.
the horseman, he saw that he was masked. The
stranger drew a pistol, pointed it at the Quaker and deThe Quaker and the Robber.
manded his purse. The Quaker did not want courage,
but, mild by nature, inoffensive by religion, and unable There once lived at London an honest Quaker, by to resist an armed man, being himself without arms, he naine Toby Simpton, who kept house with his daughter very coolly drew from his pocket his purse which con. Mary, a beautiful blue-eyed girl pot quite seventeen. tained twelve guineay. The robber took it, counted the Mary was as sensible as she was handsome. All the inoney, and stepped aside to let the poor man pass, young men who were acquainted with her father paid who immediately started off on a trot. The bandit, her their homage; and all who lived in the neighbor- seeing how little resistance had been offered him, and hood, endeavored, but often in vain, to get a glance induced by the hope of a second prize, soon overtook from her. Mary was not a coquette, and instead of the honest Toby, placed himself again before him, and taking pleasure in the effect which her charms pro- presenting his pistol, as before, demanded his watch. duced, she was even displeased when she saw herself The Quaker, though surprised, yet did not show it in noticed, and so signified to all her admirers, with the the least, but cooly drew his watch from his fob, looked exception of a single one, Edward Weresford, a young at the hour, and then handed the time-piece to the robartist, who was quite intimate with her father.
ber, begging him at the same time to let him return A very simple event gave rise to this intimacy. The home, as his daughter would be uneasy at his absence. Quaker's wife, while yet young and beautiful, had been In a minute, replied the rasked horseman, growing snatched away by an early death, and as he wished to bold at the Quaker's docility, but swear to me first that perpetuate the image of her who was so dear to him, ne you have no more money. called a painter to take her portrait as she lay on her
I never swear, replied the Quaker. death-bed. It was there that Edward first saw Mary;
Very well, affirm then that you have no more money it was there that a true affection began amid the tears about you, and upon the word of an honest robber, inof the one and the melancholy task of the other. The capable of having recourse to violence with a man who year which had rolled away since that event had only yields with such good grace, I will allow you to proceed served to strengthen a bond formed under such auspi- on your journey. ces, and the young man had made known to the father Toby reflected a moment and shook his head. his passion and his hopes.
'Whoever thou mayest be, said he gravely, thou hast The good Toby had no reason for objecting to the divined that I am a Quaker, and that I would not tell an mutual inclination of his daughter and the young pain- untruth to save my life. So I own to thee that I have ter. Edward, though not rich, could earn enough by under this housing the sum of two hundred pounds his pencil to support a family honorably. His father, sterling. Mr. Weresford, a merchant of good standing, was re
Two hundred pounds sterling! cried the robber, his tired from business with a very splendid fortune. He eyes sparkling through his mask. afforded a rare example of rapid excess in speculation,
But if thou art good, if thou art humane, continued go rapid even that few had been able to follow its pro- the Quaker, thou wilt leave me this money. I am gress. He was of a hasty and morese disposition, and about to marry my daughter, and this sum is necessary lived alone in the suburbs of London, and without giv- to me. It will be a long time before I shall have another ing himself any uneasiness about his son, left him at equally useful with this. The dear child is much atfull liberty to do as he pleased. In a word, he was one tached to her lover, and it would be cruel to deny their of those easy egotists, who trouble no one through fear union. Thou hast a heart; perchance thou hast loved; of being themselves molested, a kind of people who are and I know that thou wilt not commit such a wicked the pleasantestin the world, so long as you ask nothing action. of them.
What do your daughter and her lover, and their marNow Edward was able to court the pretty quakeress riage concern me? Less words and quick action ! without any obstacle whatever, fully persuaded that her They’se no reason for my not having the money. father had no reason for objecting to their union. The Toby with a sigh listed up the housing, took out a situation of the lovers was, as we see, very favorable, quite heavy bag, and slowly handed it to the bandit. and all that prevented the honest Toby from fixing im. He was then going to set out on a gallop. mediately the day for their marriage, was that he had But stop, friend Quaker, said the robber, seizing his yet to collect the money which was due to him for the bridle. As soon as you get home, you will report me to rent of his farms, which he intended to make use of the police. That is all right enough, and I have nothupon that occasion. For this purpose he went into the ing to say against it; but I must be in advance of them country to his lands, which were situated a few miles this night, at least. My horse is weak and beside that, from London, where he arranged his business in a single fatigued. Your horse, on the contrary, appears to be day and then set out in the evening to return on horse- strong, for the weight of this bag did not incommode back. He had proceeded some distance when he noticed him in the least ; so dismount and give me your beast, a horseman obstructing the road before him. He stop- and you may take mine, if you please. ped, doubting whether it were better to advance or to It was too late to; begin to resist, though these in
Meanwhile the horseman rode forward toward creasing demands were enough to rouse the temper of
the most patient even. The good Toby dismounted, rapidly. Really! my friend, really! replied Toby, not and took with resignation the poor jade which was able to recover from his astonishment. Weresford, Edgiven him in exchange. If I had known him, thought ward's father, a man of such standing, he my
robber! he, I would have fled the minute I saw him, and cer
moment he thought himself the sport of a lainly he never could have overtaken me with such a dream, and was going to return home. However, many miserable nag as this.
examples recurred to him of individuals of great reMeanwhile, the man with the mask thanked him spectability being connected with bands of robbers; then ironically for his complaisance, and putting spurs to his he thought of Weresford's sudden fortune, and then of horse, disappeared.
the mare, which, to all appearances, entered her Before reaching London, Toby hall ample time to master's gate. Toby determined to sound the mystery. think over his misfortune, and to reflect upon the dis- With this resolution he boldly entered the court, and appointment of Mary and Edward at their wedding day asked to speak to the master of the house. He was not being delayed. The sum which he had lost, was lost yet up, though it was almost noon. A new proof of a irrevocably. He had no means of finding it, or of re- night of fatigue! The Quaker insisted upon being cognizing the bold robber who took it. However, as if conducted to him, and was soon shown to Weresford's seized with a sudden idea, he stopped.
chamber. Weresford, who had just awakened, rubbed Yes, he exclaimed, this plan will insure me success. his eyes, and asked a little hastily: If the man lives in London, perhaps I shall meet him What are you, sir, who wish me? again. Heaven, without doubt, has destined that he Toby recognised his voice and was then perfectly shall be imprudent.
convinced. He drew a chair up to the side of the bed A little consoled by this uncertain hope, Toby went and seated himself upon it, his hat still on. home, without any appearance of concern and without Do you remain covered ? cried the merchant with saying anything of his adventure. He did not go to the surprise. police, but embraced his daughter, who suspected noth- I am a Quaker, answered Toby very coolly, and thou ing, went to bed, and went to sleep, trusting all to knowest that such is our custom. God.
At the word Quaker, Weresford started up and looked Next day he thought, for the first time, of aiding his visitor in the face, recognizing him, without doubt, Providence and making search. He took the mare from for he turned pale. the stable where she had spent the night, threw her Very well, he continued, though stammering badly, bridie over her back, and turned her loose, with the what is if you please the the bukope that guided by habit, she would naturally seek her siness which brings you here? master's house. In this manner the poor beast, which I ask thy pardon for my haste, said Toby, but friends, was very hungry, wandered through the streets of Lon- as thou knowest, do not mind such things, and so I am don, and Toby followed her. But he had attributed come unceremoniously, to ask thee for the watch which more instinct to the beast than it really had. For a thou didst take from me yesterday. long time she wandered to the right and to the left, The- watch! making a thousand halts and turns, and going altogether I set great value upon it; it belongs to my poor wife, at random. Toby was in despair That robber, thought and I am loath to part with it. My brother-in-law, the he, has never lived in London. What foolishness it was alderman, would never pardon me, if I parted but a day in me, instead of going to the magistrates when there with a token which reminds me of his sister. was hope, to trust myself to the random wandering of The name of alderman seemed to make some impresthis poor animal.
sion upon Weresford. Toby, without waiting for a reThese reflections were interrupted by the cries of ply, continued: some children, who were almost run over by the mare, Thou wilt do me the pleasure to return to me also which, all at once, started off on a gallop.
the ten guineas which I lent to thee yesterday. HowStop! stop! cried voices from every direction. ever, if thou hast need of them, I consent to lend them
Don't stop! cried the Quaker. In the name of hea- to thee yet a little while, on condition that thou wilt ven don't stop her!
give me a receipt for the same. And anxiously following the animal's course with his The Quaker's self-possession so confounded the old eye, he saw her run at full speed through the gateway merchant that he did not even dare to deny his possesof a large mansion, which stood open.
sion of the stolen property, but as he did not feel quite This is the place, thought the Quaker, raising his inclined to own it either, he hesitated in replying, when eyes to Heaven to thank Providence.
Toby added : He went up to the house, and noticed a servant in I am come to inform thee of the near marriage of my the court, who was patting the poor beast as he led her daughter Mary. I had reserved the sum of two hundred to the stable. He then asked the first person who pounds sterling to defray the expenses of the wedding, passed the name of the man who lived there.
but by an accident I lost it. Last evening, while on my What, answered the man whom he asked, don't you way to London, I was completely plundered, and thereknow that the rich merchant Weresford lives here; fore I am come to pray thee also to give thy son a dowor have you never been in this quarter before?
ry, which, otherwise, I had not asked. The Quaker was thunder-struck.
My son! Weresford, repeated the man, thinking that he was Yes, for dost thou not know that he is in love with not understood ; the man who has made his fortune so Mary, and that he intends to marry her ?
Edward ! cried the merchant, throwing himself upon sembled a large number of happy friends, among whom the bed.
many were noticed, who were congratulating each other Edward Weresford, replied the Quaker mildly, at the upon the behaviour of the Loudon robbers, who through same time taking a pinch of snuff. Come, friend, Toby's intervention, had returned to them the sums they make some provision for him. I could heartily wish had formerly lost, as well as the interest thereon. that he might know nothing of what passed last night,
Summer Thoughts. but if thou dost not produce the sum which I have namedl, forsooth I must tell him how I lost it.
Tis summer now, and earth is bright with leaves and grass and At this, Weresford went to a bureau, and took from one of its drawers a box fastened with a triple lock, The streamlet sparkles in the glen and sends its murm'ring song
And music fills the wand'ring breeze and echoes mid the bowers, which he opened, and returned to Toby successively his To blend with soft wind's melody as light it flies along ; purse, his watch, and his bag of money.
And the leaves are talking merrily upon each parent bough, Very well, said the Quaker, as he received them, I As tho’they answerd to the wind and to the streanlet's flow. see that I was right in relying upon thee.
The sky so pure and beautiful, it seems as if 'twas made Is that all you wish ? inquired the merchant some- For man to bow and worship it, is smiling o'er my head, what hastily.
As here within the pleasunt shade of the silver beech we lie, No, it is not : I still require something from thy with meadow s sloping green belore, and dark woods spotted
And view the scene that spreads around in many a var.ed dye, friendship.
And sliding hills and mountains far sweet fading in the air. That thou shalt disinherit thy son.
The air is still and balmy, save when the cooling wind Why?
Comes with its whispers from the wood and leaves perfume beThou shalt disinherit him, because I do not wish that hind, it can be said that I have speculated upon thy fortune.
Or wandering bec with murmuring song darts freely on our ear,
And mid the grass the grass-hopper chirpu loud his anthem near, So saying, the Quaker left the chamber. No, said he to himself, as he shut the door, children To linger tioating around us, and then away to die.
Or mingling murmurs from the cale and wood steal soitly by, are not bound for their fathers' conduct. Mary may How different will be the scene when winter scowls around, marry this man's son, but as for touching stolen money, when ice chains tree and river, and hard frost binds the ground, he shall never do it. On reaching the court, he called when frozen mist is on the hill, and frowns the grey cold heaven, to Weresford, who was looking out of the window : Aud chill blasts shroud the morning glance, and snow-flakes
My good friend, I have brought thee thy mare; return gleam at even; me, then, my horse.
When woods like barren lances stand through which the wild Not many minutes after, Toby, well mounted, his
Now whistles shrill, now hoarsely sings, to mar the solitude. money once more under his housing, and his watch and purse in his pocket, was slowly trotting on his way
Then will the pure wind sigh no more upon the blushing blos. home.
Or streamlet sparkle in the sun along earth's glowing bosom, I am just come, said he to Edwaid, whom he met as No more the squirrel and the bird will sport amid the bowers, he entered his door, I am just come from a call on thy Or wandering bee hum merrily at noon around the flowers, father about the wedding. I
I believe that he will agree. But cold and rude and cheerless will the gloomy winter day, Two hours after, Weresford visited Toby, and took Borne on the chill and ruthless blasts, roll heavily away. him aside.
Speech.—There is a magic in free speeking, especialHonest Quaker, said he, your behaviour has touched ly on sacred themes, most potent and resistless. It is my very heart. You have it in your power to dishonor refreshing, amidst the inane common places bandied in me, to dishonor my son, to ruin me in his eyes, and ruin pulpits and parlors, to hear a hopeful word from an earhim by refusing him your daughter. You have acted nest, upright soul. Men rally around it as to the lattice like a man who has both a head and a heart. I do not in summer heats, to inhale the breeze that flows cool wish to blush before you any longer. Take these and refreshing from the mountains, and invigorates their papers. You will never see me again.
languid frames. Once heard, they feel a buoyant sense So saying, he went out.
of health and hopefulness, and wonder that they should The Quaker, when by himself, opened the papers. have lain sick, supine so long, when a word has power He found, at first, checks for large aniounts upon the to raise them from their couch, and restore them to first bankers in London. Then a long list of names, soundness. And once spoken, it shall never be forgotand opposite to each a greater or less sum of money. ten; it charms, exalts: it visits them in dreams, and At the bottom of all was the following note.
haunts them during all their wakeful hours. Great, inThese names are of persons who have been robbed ; deed, is the delight of speech; sweet the sound of one's the figures indicate the amounts which are to be re- bosom thought, as it returns laden with the fragrance stored. Get the money of the bankers, and then make of a brother's approval.- Orphic Sayings in the Dial. the restitutions secretly. The sum which remains is my honest property, and your daughter will one day be Wounds in Trees,-Melt a pound of tar with four able to inherit my fortune.”
ounces of tallow, add half an ounce of saltpetre, and stir Next day Weresford had left London, and all seemed the whole together. A coat of this composition, applied to be satisfied that he was gone to France to collect his to a cut or bruise, will prevent decay, and cause the debts and attend to his affairs.
wound to heal. Befcre applying it, all the unsound On Edward and Mary's wedding-day, the Quaker as- timber should be cleared away.--Hart.
Fourier's Theory of Association. When the face of day is darkened by the shadows of Rightly to understand the evils of the social systein, twilight, when evening draws her sable drapery around as distinguished from disorders which are the native the earth, I love to meditate on the scenes and things growth of the human heart, corrupted and swayed by past and present. Like a sport-wearied babe, Nature is passion, is evidently the proper basis of all efforts at shrouded in sweet repose. Deep refreshing silence is social reform. Evils which result from the forms of around. The hour is as a calm to a tempest. It brings social life, may be corrected by amending the forms rest to the wearied one and an interval of peace to the from which they spring ; whereas evils which are in
To the mourner it brings forgetfulness, and herent in the moral nature of man, can be corrected by to guilt and innocence alike oblivion. As a tender no social remedy. If the evil be really a social evil, mother guarding childhood's sleep, so the brilliant and springing out of the arbitrary arrangements of society, beautiful stars keep their tireless vigils as bright, holy a social remedy may remove it. But if the evil be inspirits, watching poor, erring mortals. Wild hopes and herent in the individual, springing out of a disordered feverish joys are Aed. Rememberance alone is present nature, and having its seat deep in the human heart, the with her blessed influence to control the mind. Night's remedy must not be addressed to the forms of social in. holy quietude soothes the tired spirit. Its mad unholy tercourse-it must be addressed to the disease. Otherpassions are at rest. With pinions light the soul wings wise the outward symmetry and apparent health of the back to other days. On the verge of Memory's horizon social body, will but conceal the silent working of a appears a faint, dim speck. It is childhood ! Season of disease, corrupting in the very fountains of life and innocence and quiet happiness ! Every hill upon which slowly distilling death through all its members. we sported becomes more dear, and holier every vale by There are then properly speaking two modes through being connected with reminiscences of childhood. which to secure and advance the well-being of society;
I sometimes reflect on those by-gone hours till I am be- the one social and the other individual ; the one perwildered in the rapture of glad thoughts, and have taining to the outward forms of the social order, and the again revelled in those happy scenes. Like a ray of other to the right education and developement of the moonlight on the troubled sea appears sweet childhood. individual mind. The one purifies the fountains of Methinks I again see a group of little faces circled moral action: the other makes clear the channel through around the parental hearth, laughing gayly at the sallies which its healing waters flow. Given a pure fountain, of an affectionate mother. Those beautiful forms are and of necessity it must work its way, till it find a channel in their turn laid on their earthly couches to dreamless down among the hills and valleys fertilizing and beautirest. I sometimes indulge the beautiful thought that fying the region through which it passes. But the there holy angels are Auttering near their sister in her channel-may it not exist with no pure stream to flow wayward path through life, waiting to welcome her to through it; but instead, only now and then the muddy the “ Better Land.”
waters of a spring freshet ? There is no music so sweet to me as the gushing sil. In like manner there may be the finest theories of sovery tones of those blessed beings over whom the dark cial life, and the best forms of political government, wing of sorrow and sad experience has not swept. The without the power to give them life, where there are no winds of summer may whisper, but they are wafted to MEN to put them into a practical operation. There us from scenes of anguish. Some love the rippling of may be just laws, and institutions founded in the true waves; but those sounds come from their depths, like principles of union and activity; and yet if there be no the moans of weepers.
spirit of justice pervading the minds of the people, and Next comes youth. We stand upon the brink of a no high estimation of the true end of human life and sunny stream, garlanded with wreaths of dew-drops, human society; vain is the attempt to put into execucalled joys. We are charmed by its low gentle gush. I tion laws which a vicious race cannot understand; and The breeze that ripples its waters, like the sweet unavailing the effort to bring forth the true expression southern zephyr whispers of Aowers blossoming afar. of institutions, whose spirit has passed away with the It says not that storm clouds may lower, that our joys heroic men who reared them. may vanish before disappointments; that our hopes The practicability of the Theory of Association as must be buried; that the syren song of promised hap- taught by Fourier, like most other economic theories of piness may end in strains of sorrow. Yet it is well, for the present day, is now the earnest question of very
were it not for hope, the heart would break.” Yet many noble men, honestly seeking to ameliorate the conwhy not warn us that the heart cannot know one true dition of society. A splendid theory, it most certainly joy that feels not the ministerings of religion. Why not is: one which if put into successful operation, promises tell us to look to the “Spirit Land” for the realization to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, to furnish of brighter things than found on earth :
work for the idle and education to the ignorant. It is a “ The Spirit Land! Oh take me there,
theory which proposes to reorganise society, and mould And let me find my bower of rest :
it into a new shape, and give it a new energy of lifeOh! bear me upward through the air
a new character. I proposes in short, to remove the And lay me on my Saviour's breast.”
evils of our present social system, by removing the sysA. J. A.
tem itself, and building in its place a new organization Auburn, Aug. 1844.
of society, on new principles; and by that means, to Jury.—Twelve prisoners in a box to try one or more perfect the social state and elevate the race. at the bar.
The way in which this object is sought forms the only