Oh, I have sworn by my first innocence,

By what thou'st made me, and my hellish deeds,
To make thee kneel as I have knelt to thee.

I swore it, and thou shalt, thou shalt, thou shalt.
Alb. Kneel to thee, knave. Is the fool mad. Give o'er
This most unseemly passion. What so sudden

Fran. My lord, thou'rt very rich. Thou hast much Has wrested thee from thine obedience,

Original.

A CHAPTER ON NEW-YORK.

BY PROSPER EMERALD.

withal to support his far-famed dignity. Annihilate his brother Wall and all that he possesses, and what could poor Pearl do? He would lie completely dormant, like an Anaconda after a hearty meal on an ox or two; and THERE are three principal streets in New-York which, he could no more thrive, and sustain his usual bustling from their great antiquity, as well as from their present appearance, than a sea-serpent stranded on Cape Cod. importance, claim the supremacy over all others in this Let him not, therefore, say to Wall, "I am independent, great metropolis. One of these is remarkable for having good sir, my resources are great, and I require not your originally been the great outlet into the country from kind offices in the prosecution of my business. You are the renowned city of New-Amsterdam; another for rich it is true, and love a good round usance for your having been the northern and eastern boundary thereof, bank notes; but remember that there are others who and the third for having been the principal cow-path come of as good a family as yours, and who have the from New-Amsterdam, to the place where the said cattle ways and means to maintain their high credit and reswere accustomed to feed. I need scarcely inform the pectability without your assistance. Originally you were reader, that the names of these avenues are Broadway. only the outside of a wall (whence your name) erected Wall, and Pearl. The unquestionable proofs which can by the chivalric Dutch to keep out the Indians; and be adduced in favor of their great age, ought to exempt when that was destroyed, you were nothing more than a them from the charge of being upstarts like their distant short cut from me to that haughty nabob who calls himrelations in the upper part of New-York; and their self Broadway. Now you are swollen like the toad in present conspicuous stations, topographical, mercantile the fable, and unless you soon curtail your fair proporand fashionable, give them the dignity of triumvirs which tions, and reduce yourself to your natural dimensions, cannot be taken from them. As to the relative impor- || you may chance, on some fine morning to find yourself tance of these streets, it would be difficult to determine involved in the fate of the animal I have mentioned." which has the best title to superiority; one being sacred No, this should not be the language of Pearl, nor should to merchants, another to banks and brokers, and the Wall retort by reproaching Pearl for not having been third to the ladies and dandies. I must beg pardon of built on a regular plan, like the mushroom streets of the the ladies for placing them in juxta-position with those last-year's growth, and for being indebted to sheep and last named animals; but the offence may, perhaps, be horned cattle for the beauty and symmetry of his figure. only a trivial one, since I find that the companionship is This is not the way to preserve that harmony and unity sometimes tolerated, nay, even agreeable to the fair sex. of purpose, without which, three dignitaries, associated Broadway, it is true, is more frequently pressed by in the government of one empire, cannot long preserve fairy feet than his sterner and more crooked brothers, and their power. he delights more in the rustling of silks, smiles, glances and rosy cheeks, than in the hurried steps, knit brows, and anxious countenances of his dignified companions; but then he is so dependent on them for the means of supporting his brilliant show, that, without their aid, he would inevitably sink into a superannuated gentleman of broken fortunes. Wall street, like the Treasury Department, has charge of the triumvirs' funds, and, like all men that have vast sums of money in custody, he is of immense importance, and claims to be equal to his noble kinsmen by virtue of his gold and silver possessions. But he, too, is far from being independent, and were it not for his long boa-constrictor-like brother Pearl, much of his funds would lie useless, and few would regard him as the very Napoleon of streets, whose levee must be daily attended. He is seldom visited by the fair sex,||cular tongue; not being aware of the fact that Ameriand even appears to be shunned by them, as if there cans on their return from Europe, after an absence of were something pestiferous in the very air that surrounds only a few months, find it extremely difficult to recover him;—a fact which, in my opinion, derogates essentially a perfect command of the English language. I could from his character, since it is a well-established truth,|| scarcely give credence to this, till I was assured on the that he who is avoided by the ladies, has a stain upon his escutcheon not easily wiped away. Whatever the reason may be, certain it is that our fair citizens rarely vouchsafe the light of their countenances to that portion of the city; consequently the loan-mongers and others who spend the bank hours there, have all the pavement to themselves, and are seldom interrupted in their bar-pearance in our difficult language; and the ladies, symgains by the glances of a laughing blue eye.

Pearl street, too, although as old as the others, is entirely dependent on his shorter companion for the where

With the reader's permission we will take a short turn in Broadway, and if he should derive a few moments amusement from my remarks on the great personages we shall doubtless meet, perhaps on some future occasion, we may stroll arm-in-arm through Wall and Pearl streets.

The first person to whom I shall direct attention, is a young man who not long since visited Europe, and was absent from home something less than nine months.One evening I saw him in a Coffee house, and was surprised to hear him addressing a gentleman in broken English, such as we hear from the lips of Frenchmen, imperfectly acquainted with our language. I was astonished at the great change which a few months had wrought in this young man's enunciation of his verna

most undoubted authority, that the same young man had actually declined several invitations to parties, under the plea that his long use of foreign languages had disabled him from conversing as freely as he could wish, in English. He modestly begged to be excused till a little more practice should enable him to make a better ap

pathizing with his truly unfortunate predicament, unanimously consented to dispense with his agreeable company, whilst the disability should continuo. I have

barrel, and when, as a loafer lately averred in a melancholy tone, "a cask of whiskey is not a circumstance in a family of ten children." Mrs. Toadeater was always very pretty, a fact of which she was as well aware as any of her friends; and on this account she was tolerated in a highly respectable circle, till she was most unexpectedly picked up by the son of an honest money-getter, much probably to her own surprise, as well as to that of her acquaintances. No sooner, however, did the pretty Mrs. T. secure her invaluable prize, than she put on airs, and "played such fantastic tricks before high Heaven," that if she did not make the Angels weep, she at least made her old angelic friends laugh.

known other gentlemen to return from the "grand tour" || in these hard times, when flour is worth fifteen dollars a without any apparent difference in their use of the English language; but I am informed that it is a common practice to stop in England, with a view of recovering all that they may have lost of their mother tongue, while they were in foreign parts, conversing in French, German, and Italian. The young man approaching us, with long temple-locks, cane and other appurtenances of dandyism, is the son of a plain, honest citizen who, as our country friends say, is fore-handed, or well to do in the world, and who can well afford to let his only son gratify his ambition of playing the gentleman, so far as his imitative powers permit. Harvy Duck (for such is his name) appears to be ashamed of being an American, and would fain be taken for a foreigner. It is true that he does not affect to speak bad English, for he has not thought of that, nor does he wear mustaches, having been forbidden by his sensible father, to wear those beautiful badges of gentility. He does all he can, however, to induce the belief that he is an exotic of the first water, instead of being indigenous to the soil of that anciently respectable neighborhood, Fly Market Slip; and while he pretends to be profoundly ignorant of the names of streets, and the situation of public buildings, he contrives to make you understand that he is perfectly familiar with the best parts of London, Paris, and Rome. He frequently alludes to his friend "Lud" Backwater of Berkely Square, and often tells the interesting anecdote of that wicked little spright, Lady Charlotte Easy's playing a good trick on him and his particular friends, Sir William Blunderbuss and Lud Pumphandle. He has promenaded the Boulevards, and visited Pere la "Why, sir, let me see (pulling out his watch,) it is Chaise with the amiable Marie, daughter of the Duc de now half past two-dont know but I might accommodate Sixmains; and once had the honor of losing a trifle, say you, if the case is pressing-that is if you must have it, thirty thousand francs to Comte Bottes, who pocketed I think I might manage to raise it for you, Mr. Emerald, the money with mille regrets at having been the success-on-on-good-security. What can you offer-whose ful party.

I have mentioned Duck's ignorance of "our town" and I shall mention a circumstance to illustrate it. One very warm day in the latter part of May, as I was walking Broadway, I heard a person inquiring of three respectable looking foreigners the direction to the City Hall, and perceiving that they were at a loss to give him the desired information, and being as my friends say, polite on certain occasions without being officious, I volunteered to show him the way. Judge of my surprise when I discovered the gentleman to be Harry Duck, who, so far from requiring to be shown the way to that far-famed hall of justice, must have remembered its whereabout with sorrow, having to my certain knowledge, been three times soundly flogged between it and the jail, by that young rascal Bob Spunk, Harry's near neighbor in Fly Market Slip. Duck's wearing an overcoat on such a day was no less a cause of astonishment; but he satisfactorily explained this by stating that his long residence in the South of Europe, had rendered him peculiarly sensitive to the "confounded chilliness of this climate."

Here comes Mrs. Clementina Toadeater one of the prettiest women in New-York. She lately had a windfall in the shape of a husband—a piece of rare good luck

The gentleman crossing Maiden Lane, is Mr. Jedediah Catchpenny the wealthy capitalist, and I dare be sworn that he is now on his way to Wall Street to invest some thousands he has this day received. He appears to be in a brown study, and the subject of his thoughts it would be no difficult matter to divine. He is turning in his mind the various topics connected with the immediate business in hand; such as whether the houses whose paper he has been for months shaving are yet responsible; whether it is advisable to take first rate paper at the trifling interest of two per cent a month, or third rate, at three or four per cent; and whether there is a reasonable prospect that the present prosperous times will continue a twelvemonth.-I will speak to him.

"Good morning, Mr. Catchpenny, I hope you are very well, sir. Have you a thousand dollars to spare this morning, Mr. Catchpenny?"

notes?"

"I only want it till to-morrow, Mr. Catchpenny, what will the premium be, sir?"

“Oh, a trifle, a trifle, sir, for a few hours-say five dol. lars and I will give you my check." "Good morning, Mr. Catchpenny."

Original.

SONG-RESTORE THE NIGHT,
BY ISAAC C. FRAY, JR.

RESTORE-restore the night!
With its stars and solemn light:
For the gairish day is as dull to me
As is the calm to a ship at sea.

O what do I care

For the spirits of air,

When darkness comes with the deep-deep night
And the churchyard is thronged with ghost and sprite!
Have not I a spirit in me

As dark and strong as a stormy sea?
Cannot I roam freely at night,
And watch the moon's unfolding light:
Is not the moon as dear to one
As to the day is the burning sun?

A thousand times have I seen her fly

To the curtain clouds as the storm came by,
And when the oak has snapped in the blast
Which with rain and thunder has hurried past,
Have I seen her light the heaven's dark vast-
How tranquilly!
Restore-restore the night!
With its stars and solemn light:
For the gairish day is as dull to me
As is the calm to a ship at sea.

Original.

THE BEAUTY OF HOLINESS.

A SKETCH.

BY LOUISA H. MEDINA.

"When the fight of Faith is fought,-
When the marriage vest is wrought,-
When Love and Faith imprisoned here
Long for a more expanded sphere,-
Drop thy robes of sin and clay,
Christian! rise and come away!"-BUNYAN.

If the bright spirit of truth and love, can forget its immateriality to clothe itself in mortal mould, then have I beheld its personation. Sweet Ellen R. allow a friendly hand to unveil, yet not to violate the beauty of thy Christian life-a better record survives thee in the hearts that loved and worshipped thee, and eternal praises for the blessed hope that a brighter, holier recompense awaits thee than human hand can write or human heart dictate.

In the morning of life and the spring time of hope, Ellen Lindsay gave her hand in happy confidence to him who already had her heart. She loved him not that he was highly born and wealthy.-No, nor yet was the rare union of person and intellect in one man, the cause use that won her guiltless heart-she loved him because he had soothed her parents dying hours and first breathed to her ear the deep melody of lover's vows. And the noble Percival was proud of his spotless bride, confident in her affection and exultant in the universal homage her peerless beauty commanded.

RELIGION! what is it? A beautiful theory too seldom put in practice,—a difficult enigma which there are few Edipus' to solve. To some a rose, to others a stinging thorn. Ask of that dark-eyed dame who is glancing so meltingly on her caballero as they traverse the Corso, and she will answer that it is in confession, penance, absolution and black lent ;-aye, and even show, her swelling bosom heaving on a pointed crucifix, whose sharp extremities lacerate that fairest work of God, and answer-this is religion. Ask of that dark browed fanatic, and he will tell you to seek it in noise, in taking Heaven by storm, amidst the nasal twang of the conventicle. Question the Parsee, he will spread his carpet and point to the rising sun. Observe the Hindoo she will seek it in fire and in flame upon the blazing pyre of her husband's corpse. Nay, stranger still, see that wild Indian forget that even she is a mother, and cast Nature's holiest, dearest boon beneath the ensanguined wheels of the juggernaut Idol's car-all for religion. Visit the resert of splendor and of fashion, sce the queenly dames who press their velvet hassocks every Sunday for religion. Attend the Oratorios and hear some abandoned wretch, who disgraces the name of woman, chant the Redeemer's praises, for religion's sake. Come with me to yonder frowning building, start not at the clash of iron bars, nor shrink alarmed from that poor maniac's frantic ||less extravagance will drain even the largest reservoir of augh-listen! Her own wild words will tell you that she dipped her hands in blood, and waded through misery, guilt and despair for religion,-and that she now wears a crown of light and robes of glory spotted although they be with blood. Ask of one and all-nor find one answer similar to the former.

Religion!-beautiful conception born of purity and faith, bright vision of holiness, too dazzling for mortal sight: perfection of happiness, whom those who behold, linger until they can by death attain. All glorious and pervading excellence, for whom all strive and few obtain.—What, what art thou? Why was the question put, by Pilate, unanswered by Divine wisdom? For is not Truth Religion, and Religion Truth? Perhaps, to urge each human heart, that pants to know the right, on still onward to perfection-so that we may soar as eagles with gaze rivetted upon the source of light: even though we comprehend it not.

Feelings such as have now written down themselves, were passionately suggested by witnessing but recently a scene, oh! such an one as would ask a sunbeam for a plume, and rain-bow dyes to paint it, as it was. If on this frail and erring earth, virtue may alight like some sweet glorious bird, of Eastern lands, who comes

To show his plumage for a day,
To wondering eyes, and wing away.

Generous and careless he lavished sums to deck her in the gems of Golconda, and the webs of India,—that even a richer man should have withheld; and in vain she remonstrated with his prodigality, amidst the whirlwind of his pride and the thunder of his self-willedness, the small still voice was unheard. Yet it was with her, that rich yet minute seed which will spring into the mighty tree. None heard the parade of religion from Ellen's lips-none read her name blazing at the head of subscription lists, still it was with her-it breathed in her gentle voice, it beamed from her sweet beseeching eyes, it acted in every hour of her life-religion in the heart. The time was at hand to try it. Mine is but a desultory sketch and I pretend not to trace the causes that led to Percival R's decline and fall. Bound

wealth, when prudence acts not as the living stream to replenish its waters, and soon the cold bow and colder welcome, the indifferent attention and vacant stare, told that the star of Percival was set in the world of fashion. Disgusted with the world and angry with himself, the heart of Ellen's husband turned sickening for something whereon to rest; a faithful bosom received his aching head, a cheering voice soothed his self-reproach, a firm resolve pointed a path of better, happier enterprise. Wo be unto that woman or that wife who in the first hours of remorse adds the gall of reproach to deepen its bitterness! Wo to her, who, when man's changing heart turns wearied from scenes of pleasure to tranquil home, welcomes the wanderer back with sullenness or clamor! Better had she never linked her fate to his, better had she never beheld his face, evil hours await her. The heart she repulses will chill henceforth at her sight, the kindly feelings she afterwards would cherish are blighted never to blossom for her again! Never more for her, will beam the glad smile of a husband's grateful approbation, the silent pressure of the hand will never again speak a reciprocal feeling. Oh! would woman but beware of this one fault, would they but be warned by the lesson given them in Holy Writ, and like the father in the parable, run open arms to greet the prodigal's return, then would repentant love strike the wanderer with re