not even* departing from it to join in the solemn cere- || her offspring, though happy around her and flourishing, monies. Nevertheless in seclusion her character did could not replace the one she could never behold again; not lose its sweetness. Though she had reason to sus- andthey were chagrined to find her in the midst of so many pect the ambitious policy of Livia in the premature children as inconsolable as though she had been childless. death of Marcellus, she gave no evidence of her doubts Her entire withdrawal from society during the remainin her deportment, nor ever breathed a hint of them to der of her life, has prevented all knowledge of her Augustus. closing days. She survived the loss of young Marcellus, Before Antony died, she was unremitting in her thirteen years; and after her death, the Roman people carefulness of his children by Fulvia. After his decease, wished to pay her divine honors. Nothing more is reshe was equally attentive to the education and prospects corded upon the subject, than that Augustus himself of those he had had by the queen of Egypt. She pronounced the funeral oration of Octavia* in the temmarried the younger Cleopatra to the king of Maurita-ple of Julius Cæsar, and consecrated a temple, a pornia, so renowned for his science and his genius. tico, a library and a public square, to the memory of a sister entitled in so many ways to his respect and love. Year of Rome, 744. Before Christ, 10. Original. H. P. On one particular occasion, she gave signal evidence, that though she had lost all esteem for society, she was still earnestly alive to the interests of the empire and capable of the most disinterested sacrifices for the common good. The emperor had no child but Julia, who, by the death of Marcellus, was left a widow. THE RESTORATION OF ISRAEL. Octavia saw how much this situation of his daughter must distress Augustus. She accordingly induced her son-in-law, Agrippa, to free himself from Marcella, her own daughter, and marry Julia;-after which she caused the same daughter to marry young Antony, the son of Fulvia. She also provided husbands for her two daughters, named Antonia; Domitius was united to the one and (Jer. xxx, xxxi.) LONG banished from Judea's land, their ancient happy home, The sons of Israel, scattered wide, through all the na tions roam; The scorching sand, the frigid soil, their weary feet have But, like th' exploring dove of old, they find no place pressed, of rest. Behold, the place of David's throne, the pride of earth and heaven, The earthly dwelling of IAM, unto the heathen given! Alike are gone her sacred fanes and queenly state of yore, no more. Drusus to the other, whom she loved passionately. This Antonia was every where admired for her beauty, for her virtues, and, above all, for her exemplary decorum in a court of great licentiousness. Even in her fortunes, she resembled Octavia; being doomed to mourn the loss of her son, Germanicus, the most amiable prince of his time; and afterwards dying heart broken at the caprices and extravagances of Caligula, her grand-son. To the very termination of her career, she was scrupu- And voice of prophet, priest and king, are heard in her lous in the fulfilment of all the various duties to which she considered herself as bound by circumstances; but it was for the welfare of her family alone that she thought and acted; nothing of self,- -not even the consciousness of self, can be discovered in any particular of her conduct, from the beginning, to the very last, when she had cast aside the world and forsock solitude no more.t ter that moment, even the thronet upon which her brother was so peacefully and so gloriously planted, had no beauty in her view. The grandeur by which she was surrounded grated upon her feelings and it pained her mind's eye to gaze at the glare of pleasure and of power. Af Yet let not Jacob be dismayed—the day ere long will come When from his lengthened banishment his God shall call him home; Again thy sons, O Salem fair! shall turn their steps to thee, As mountain rills and meadow streams flow onward to the sea. Thy temple-walls shall re-aspire, thy gates of praise unfold, To her mourning garb, as if it had been insep-And arable from the memory of him for whom she assumed it, she ever adhered with a religious reverence. All mitred priest invoke his God where David prayed of old; While joyous myriads lift their voice, and bless the mighty hand That drew again their wandering feet unto the promised land. MARRIED LADIES. O. A. B. A MARRIED lady, alluding in conversation to the 148th Psalm, observed, that while "young men and maidens, old men and children," were expressly mentioned, not a word was said about married women. An old clergyman, whom she was addressing, assured her they had not been omitted, and that she would find them included in one of the preceding verses under the description of vapors and storms. Original. THE PIRATE. A SKETCH. A Pirate Chief-a conquering father's son! 'Twas early in the spring of 1810, that the West India Merchantman, Adventure, richly loaded, bound for England, lay at anchor off Port Royal, Jamaica; waiting a breeze to put to sea. Many times had this brave vessel stemmed the boisterous current in imminent danger; many times had her brave and intrepid commander, (whose open, generous and deliberate countenance bespoke manly feeling and exquisite worth,) stood upon the deck, in the midst of thundering danger, to defend her rights; yet never did he feel so much concern about the real safety of his vessel, his gallant crew, and himself, as at the commencement of this voyage. All the fears of Spanish hostilities ranked themselves before him; all the thoughts of cold blooded butchery crowded on his mind; and he to whom fear had previously been a stranger, now felt altogether different from what he had ever before experienced. The most terrific scenes of bloodshed, and the most hazardous perils and life risking situations in which he had been engaged, vanished before him on his thought of the present voyage. Nothing could strike terror to his soul, save the sight of a Spanish Pirate, and he dreaded an encounter this time, since it was no uncommon thing of late; for many merchantmen had suffered severely, and he himself had frequently tasted the sweets dealt out by Spanish pirates. Something supernatural told him, that preparation and timely notice were strong bulwarks against coming danger, and he therefore felt himself bound to arm his gallant crew. Time flew past on his silver wings, and space, like the early cloud passed unheeded, leaving no trace behind. Hope, buoyant hope, had our souls anchored once more in fair England; and nought but stern recollection made us believe that, we were yet far from its shores. But weeks had now glided past, and we were nearing the shores of Europe, with the expectation of once more hoisting our flag in the royal Thames. The gallant vessel was gliding smoothly over the then calm bosom of the trackless ocean, with a fair breeze-all sails set and mounting with easy fetch over the little white topped waves. The scene suddenly changed, and terror was pictured in every cloud, and danger breathed its horrid threatenings in every breeze. The hurricane continued for some hours with unabated fury; until at last it died away, leaving the ocean as calm as the trackless brook. On the morning subsequent, as the captain stood upon the quarter deck, with his glass, on the look-out, for the Spanish or French shores, he discovered a sail looming through the mists afar, but was soon satisfied it was a pirate vessel, of about thirty-five guns. Willing to avoid such an unformidable enemy the captain thought it prudent to make sail as fast as possible; but from the superior lightness of the pirate vessel, and the wrecked state of the Adventure, from the effects of the hurricane she gained upon us in spite of all our joint efforts. Our captain continuing to watch her manoeuvres with his glass; could see them, as it were, make ready for action; and turning round on the quarter deck, he exclaimed: "Why the enemy gains fast upon us, my brave fellows, and to attempt to run in our present shattered state, is impossible. We must, my brave fellows, do the best we can, to maintain the untarnished glory of the British flag." The commander of the pirate vessel could easily perceive our shattered and mutilated state, and apparent inability to fight; and found it no difficult matter to conclude that we must become an easy prize. Willing, however, to make every effort to escape-all sails were let loose to the mercy of the winds. The masts of the Adventure now bend gently to the fresh breeze, and the flapping sails are happily secured. She falls aback-her yard-arms are dipping in the waves, and she heaves horridly with a constantly accelerated motion. Although we were now running at the rate of ten knots an hour, yet notwithstanding, the pirate vessel gained on us, with a quickness almost incredible. Seeing that it was evidently impossible to continue the design of escaping longer, our captain once more called his veteran crew before him, in order to ascertain their desires. His dark flashing eye wandered fiercely over his steady crew assembled before him. Suddenly, a general shout of " Old England for ever!" arose from the men. His countenance brightened, at this indication of bravery, and waving his sword in the air, shouted aloud, "Let us do or die!" In which his hearty crew all joined, swearing that they would never desert their noble captain. By this time the pirate vessel had neared us on the weather side; from her situation we could discover her intention to commence the attack immediately, and the Adventure being under all sail with the exception of her studdings, shot ahead the pirate. The latter profitted considerably from our shattered state of rigging, and also her own advantageous position, wore up, and by this means brought her guns to bear on the stern of our vessel, and raked her with great damage. The pirate chief then luffed her up, and in the same manner tried to stave in her starboard side, but in this he was disappointed by our captain, who throwing our vessel right aback, brought the bow of the pirate against the larboard quarter, and in the almost parallel direction we lay foul of each other. A scene here ensued that defies description; the dead were strewed around in every direction, forming, as it were, a barrier to the piratical besiegers. The captain was standing on the quarter deck, flushed with the ardor of the battle, and uttering commands. The ear-piercing lamentations which arose from the wounded that lay scattered over the deck, in the last gasp of death, piercing the very soul of him, to whom all on board looked for advice and guidance in an hour such as the present. "Boarders on the starboard bow," resounded from the lieutenant. The words were repeated-all rushed to the place; their swords, boarding pikes and cutlasses gleamed aloft, determined to be victorious, or perish in the attempt. But at the same instant was heard on board the pirate vessel the cry of "Boarders," and the forecastle was covered with a superior force. Our captain aware of the rashness of the act, shouted once more, "Avast boarding! Let them come on! Take them fore and aft. Huston, clear the gang-way and I shall my hands bound with a huge pair of manacles, and allowstand by the colors!" To an impartial observer the contest would have appeared equally divided, the musquetry continued to be so thickly poured from both vessels, that both parties were obliged to stoop under the bulwarks to load. But our vessel now advancing on the broadside of the pirate poured in the contents of the guns, cutting off her gammoning, and head rails, and at the same time shattered the bowsprit. The shout of "boarders" was once more heard from the pirate, and the rush of all hands to the starboard bows evidently testified that they intended to end the affray speedily Huston, sweep the bulwarks of the starboard bows," shouted the captain, "and let them see if we must die, we shall die like Englishmen, and choose death before surrendering up our vessel to such bloody desperadoes." The contest now appeared decisive; the pirates endeavoring to board the vessel and we as bravely repulsing them. Such of them however, as gained our deck met with a speedy despatch, and the commander now seeing that it would be fruitless to maintain the contest longer, crowded all sail to escape us. Our captain saw the manœuvre, and orders were immediately given to board her. In a few moments we met the remainder of the pirates, sword in hand, on their own deck. A scene here ensued altogether sickening. Man to man, foot to foot, and sword clanging against sword, soon drenched || the deck with blood; but the contest was brought to a bearing, and their hardy, intrepid, and courageous commander, forced to shout-" Quarters." 66 ed to hold intercourse with no person save my attendant. I meditated escape, but how to effect it was the desideratum. Happily for me, however, my attendant had originally been a pirate himself, and on my intimation to him of the desire to escape, he expressed his readiness to share my fate. We lost no time therefore, but on the same night escaped to some small fishing boats, lying a short distance from the vessel, by the aid of which, we found ourselves once more free from captivity, and on Spanish ground. We soon found means to join another pirate, vessel, and for the space of two years succeeded past expectation. In the midst of this success we were suddenly arrested by His Majesty's cutter, and again became prisoners. For a length of time we maintained our station, but at length my noble companion fell, and happy would I have been to have shared his fate, but I had yet more difficulties to encounter. I was conveyed to England, and imprisoned with my crew, yet still I resolved to escape or perish in the attempt. Every means possible I tried, and at last, accidentally, discovered an old rusty sabre, as it lay buried under ground; thrice happy did I conceive myself, never hesitating, but by some means or other, aided by my falchion, I could effect my escape. Having picked a bar from one of the windows, through which I could thrust my body, I never hesitated what should come afterwards, but deliberately walked up to the sentry, who by good fortune did not see me, and one blow quickly severed his head from his body. I escaped, and soon found myself clear of an English prison, although I was now in the neighborhood of my home, yet I could not think of beholding the face of my father, emerging from such actions as these. To France I then directed my steps, and from thence to Spain, when accidentally I met with a band of pirates, with whom I had been acquainted before, and became their associate. Success was our lot until you captured us. On this very place, about a year ago, we seized a French frigate, richly loaded bound for Paris. Every thing smiled on us and I was about to retire from these horrid scenes, to spend the remainder of my days in the bosom of peace, enjoying the rich fortune I had thus acquired; "I am now your prisoner, these arms are yours also.but it appears that fortunes thus amassed are very hard -It is quite four years since I first entered a pirate to hoard in a treasury." vessel, and during that short space of time, I have been three times a prisoner. The first year we cruized off the shores of France, and many gallant prizes and hard won battles fell to our lot. But this prospect was too smiling to endure long. The autumn of 1806, I shall long remember it. As we were cruising along the coast of Spain, with anxious desire to gain sight of some sail, my eye was suddenly arrested by the appearance of a ship, and in a few hours, I could easily perceive her to be a West Indiaman, under heavy sail, and doubting not but in the course of an hour or two, she would be our prize. But she shortened sail, and kept us in a state of perplexity for several hours, now and then firing a shot. For a considerable time we maintained the action with bravery, and some distant hopes of victory; but the last broadside from the Indiaman settled us, and in the course of a few minutes we were obliged to shout for quarters, and eventually became prisoners. I was conducted to a kind of cell in the hold of the vessel, and Quarters!" echoed our captain, "this Spanish buccaneer who now calls for quarters, if we were in his power as he now is in our's, we would be doomed to hang from the point of yonder yard arm. But his vessel, himself, and his crew are now our prize, and we will use him as a man!" The first Lieutenant, Huston, was sent aboard the pirate vessel, Saqueador, while the Spaniard and his were brought on board the Adventure. The commander of the pirate vessel, now advancing to the captain, said, crew During the past recital the captain's eyes were fixed immovably on the countenance of the pirate youth, as he beheld with what seeming composure and dignity he unravelled the scene, and was well aware that he was never intended to occupy such a station in life, and anxious to know his name, but not willing to put the question in a direct form, he inquired: "Then you are an Englishman?" "I am the son of a gentleman in London, formerly a captain in His Majesty's feet, but now, as far as I can understand, commander of a West Indiaman. You are already aware of the time elapsed since I left homehome do I say! the very thought thrills my soul strings, yet I left in the mad ravings of youthful fancy, and alone, for the merited chastisement from a beloved father! The name of that father, I dread to mention; and to call myself after him would only be inflicting disgrace for ever. Hoping, however, that he may never hear of me, I shall thus far disgrace his name as to utter it in connexion with my own. Should you," (addressing in a situation quite the reverse of a state of true happi the captain) "ever hear of him, as possibly you may, or hear from the name, I humbly beg you will never disclose the scene. The name of my worthy father is Capt. Sir James Hill, and the name of his unworthy son is James. Fearing detection, after my elopement, I changed it to James Hillis; by which I have been known since that time." ness? Is it possible that the ignorant, superstitious being, sunk in all the vice and degradation attendant upon this want of knowledge, and clinging to sensual pursuits with an ardor declarative of contentment, can be happy? If so, the happiness I sincerely deprecate. If this be the felicity to be obtained, may my search for it be short indeed. But, as it is acknowledged that those nations which are in most profound ignorance, are almost invariably sunk lowest in vice; so it must be admitted that they are most wretched; for the reverse of virtue must ever bring with it a succeeding train of sorrow. Take but a few examples and we shall be convinced of the truth of this assertion. See the poor idolator throwing himself before the ponderous car of juggernaut, which, as it rolls on, must inevitably crush The pirate, astonished at the abrupt meeting, and him to atoms. View the deluded Hindoo mother, the more abrupt discovery of his dear father, shrieked: "throwing her infant into the jaws of the devouring croc“No! I am not your son,—you cannot be my father;"adile, or the wife consumed upon the "pile" with the but looking up in the agony of despair, he remembered body of her deceased husband. Look at the untutored the dear, the altered countenance, and in attempting to savage, wasting his life in scenes of blood and dire speak fell exhausted in the arms of his father. revenge, leaving the sick and aged, even his own parents," to die, uncomforted and unattended. The captain sat as if chained to his scat, during the past few moments, but suddenly exclaimed: "Heavens! can I believe my ears, or do my eyes cease to do their duty-Hill! Hill! the name thrills my soul,-the countenance deceives me, but 'tis altered,—the eyes,-yes, they are the same,-the eyes of his dear mother! Oh, heavens! 'tis my son,—my long lost son." In the wildness of joyful despair, he caught him in his embrace. Here a scene exhibited itself beyond conception. They, who had not long since contended for the victory on the deck of a pirate vessel embraced each other, and he who was now victorious, found that his victory was over his son. The conquerer and the conquered embraced each other mutually. The extended arms of a victor were the extended arms of a loving father, and the pirate prisoner was the beloved, the long lost son of his conqueror ! No language could pourtray the scene, no mind could conceive the feelings of both, but they however, soon recovered from this joyful dream! Nature smiled on them, and to use the words of the poet: "Hope had their souls anchored again, Every thing smiled on our gay vessel as she glided smoothly up the Thames, and a few hours found the pirate and his father in the "metropolis of the world." The happy father rejoiced in the restoration of his long lost pirate son to his family, and doubly more, when taking into consideration the hostile mutiny which they so lately experienced. He who expected his receptacle to be an English prison, now found himself restored to his dear home; he who expected his life to pine away exiled in a foreign land, now found himself restored to the embraces of his dear friends. Thus ended the cruises of the pirate chief, thus terminated his barbarous deeds. The remainder of his life was spent amidst the rejoicings of his friends. 46 These degraded creatures are not merely destitute of the enjoyments and pleasures of refined life, but ignorant of themselves and their Creator. The design of their being, they know not. They are not taught to look from " Nature up to Nature's God," and thence derive fresh pleasure. All this misery must be attributed to mere ignorance, for facts show, that the mind of the Indian, when cultivated, is susceptible of the finest impressions. Is not their state then deplorable? When compared with ignorance, how lovely does knowledge appear! rendered still more attracting by the deep con trast which is drawn. How much then do we owe to civilization? Our minds would now have been equally dark, had not the light of literary and scientific knowledge shown upon us. We possess no intellectual quality which would preserve us from similar delusions, were we, and had we ever been under similar circumstances. Those only whose minds are enlightened (in some degree at least) can be truly happy. How can it be otherwise? No one of us wishes to deny that God designed the happiness of his creatures. If then, the acquisition of knowledge were not necessary, it would not have been required. But this requisition is plainly infered, if not positively declared; for surely, God would never have bestowed upon us a mind, that most noble of all his works, with an intention that we should suffer it to remain without culture, a barren and desolate waste. ment. In order that it may become the source of true happi ness, something more; or rather, something besides mere knowledge is necessary. With science must be blended virtue. Devoid of this even the most splendid literary attainments are mere drapery, unmeaning ornaBut unite these, and where is there a source of so much unmingled delight? To a person of a cultiva ted, a virtuous and a sensitive mind, the field of pleasure is vast indeed. To him, even nature is a garden of joy. Here, he will gaze upon the beauty and loveliness of a Creator's works, until he is filled with admiration and surprise. There, his imagination takes a bold and rapid flight and is lost in labyrinths of Omni a genius of great extent and power, lost much of its effect by the subjects on which it was usually and uselessly exercised as it respects the estimation of posterity. This defect of taste will probably deprive him of the immortality he sought and expected; whilst Homer, Milton and Shakspeare, will doubtless live through all time in the admiration of man. Byron was vain of his power of versification, and did not sufficiently consider the importance of choosing subjects best adapted to give weight and consequent immortality to genius. His life and death give a better moral lessen than volumes written on the subject could enforce for contemplation, and effect. By his presumption he lost that public con potent power. Here, with prying curiosity, he searches out the cause which shall produce the sure effect; there, he is compelled to acknowledge the work "one of the arcana of Nature," and ascribe it to him only, who "rounded the orbs in the palm of his hand." From the work of the tiny insect, to the most "stupendous fabric" raised by man, from the smallest particle of floating matter to the vast system of "planets and suns," from the most inferior intellect up to the highest seraph:|| in all he beholds the impress of a Creator's hand. See him watch the little cloud, floating through the azure sky, like some" lone spirit" wandering far away. Soon it acquires additional strength, and returns, dark and portentious; but the showering torrent and forked light-sideration to which he thought his genius entitled him. ning disturb not his mental enjoyment. In the rolling thunder, he hears the voice of his Heavenly Father. He sees comeliness in the "gnarled oak" as well as in the flourishing and beautiful cedar. He takes a lesson from the little flower. The tender stem bends meekly beneath the beating storm, until it shall have ceased, when it rears its gentle head, shakes the pearly drops off its leaves, and is again bright and beautiful as before. He learns to submit patiently to misfortune's blast, 'till it has passed away; then to shake off grief's tears and be happy as ever, even more purified than before. For as fame is in a great measure personal, no one can be established in the high estimation of his contemporaries whose genius is disgraced by those personal deficiences produced either by vicious courses, or feelings that lower the tone of the mind, or those minor defects that have their origin in self-elation. Public opinion is jealous of its rights. It permits not the subject for its applause to presume too much upon a title to it. How frequently is admiration lavished in proportion as the personal merit of its object is enhanced by the modesty and refinement of feeling that retire from, rather than court the general mandate in its favor. What has given our own most admired writer so high a place in the hearts of his countrymen? What but a character in perfect unison with his genius! Who that has traced If knowledge is the source of so much pure joy, how worthy of our exertion to possess it! Then let us avail ourselves of every opportunity for improvement, and trip not at every little obstruction. Obstacles there are, it is true; but may they not be overcome? Then it in all its bearings, will not perceive the charm it let us go forward, and confine not our minds to the insi-throws around the productions of his pen? The effect pid routine of useless amusements, or mere bodily decorations. Let us tread down life's rugged thorns, and rise to a sphere congenial with the desires and aims of a virtuous, a well refined mind. Original. TASTE. SARAH. of a refined and elegant taste is the spell that enchains the admiring reader to his enchanting pages! Poetic and graceful, yet simple in his delineations, how beautifully they harmonize with the tone of feelings characterized by a correct taste! The misfortunes with which human nature is afflicted, have frequently their origin in following the dictates of WE are little aware, from a mere cursory view, of the a disordered imagination, the acknowledged enemy to extensive influence of taste! That which meets the a correct taste. The career of Napoleon was a striking eye in its external decorations we readily perceive, and proof of this. Had he possessed a moral greatnessadmit its power over our senses. But what a wide that is, had a correct taste led him to a sense of its field does not an elegant taste comprise for the success- necessity for the support of even the most brilliant ful operations of the human intellect; the perversion of || talents, he might now have been wielding the imperial which, it is admitted, is but an another name for a vitia- sceptre for the coveted homage that he fell a victim to ted taste. Without its delicate guidance, barbarism obtain, instead of having it justly torn from his selfish had still prevailed, and civilized life with all its attrac- grasp. A perverted taste was the source of the evils of tive embellishments had been unknown to us. All Na- his arbitrary power. For however hardened to the sufture bears its impress. Unmindful of the extent of ferings of others, he possessed a keen, penetrating its ranging, the foot of man presses even the sod beauti- insight into causes and their remote effects, the indicafied by its touch. Not a tree or shrub spreads its beau- tion of a comprehensive understanding, that had it been ties to the light, in the construction, or graceful bend of directed by a correct taste, might have led to noble which we may not trace the charming lineaments of results. On the contrary, by basing his decisions upon taste. The very propensities to which we yield, prove an adverse source of action, he clouded every successful either the perversion of taste, or its attractive opera-deed, however brilliant. In the midst of triumph he tions. A perverted taste disgraced the genius of Byron, was a slave. He possessed no principle within himself even amidst his sensibility to the attributes that an elegant taste comprises; which many of his superior poems indicate. Although justly admired for the splendor of his genius, it reflected but little lustre on his private character. None of his adulators have been able to gloss over its defects, or to avert its immoral tendency. His beautiful versification, which indicated to give beauty or elevation to his victories. Neither honorable nor secure, his deep and troubled soul knew little repose. The sword was suspended in trembling motion over his head wherever he appeared, and the earth, over which he so presumptuously moved, seemed convulsed for his destruction. He perished on the rock of St. Helena-the victim of a perverted taste. |