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“Then why complain, dear bird? Has not Providence bestowed on thee qualities which thou valuest more than all the gaudy adornment thou admirest? And art thou discontented still?”
A tear started in the eye of the dove, at this mild rebuke of the guardian spirit, and she promised never to complain.
The beautiful girl, who had entered into the story with deep and tender emotion, raised her fine blue eyes to meet her mother's gaze: and as they rolled upward, suffused with penitential tears, she said in a sudden tone, with a smile like that assumed by all nature, when the bow of God appears in the heavens after a storm—“My mother, I think I know what that story means. Let me be thy dove! let me have that ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, and I am satisfied to see others appear in rich and gaudy apparel!”
The following extracts are from a letter written by Captain Merrill, of Batavia, to his brother. Captain M. was in all the battles:
"I cannot forbear noticing two touching incidents that fell under my observation. Among the brave and good who have this day fallen, was my friend Burwell, of the 5th infantry. He fell early in the action, from a wound in the leg. On the slight repulse of our troops, he was inhumanly murdered by the enemy's lancers. His faithful dog, a beautiful pointer, had accompanied him there; he also was wounded. During the action, he became separated from bis master. After it had subsided, the noble form of Burwell, manly as in life, was discovered, and beside him, and even licking his face and wounds, was his poor dog, who, regardless of his own pain, had sought his generous master in the hour of danger, and there, upon the same field, to die. This affecting scene touched the hearts
“Again, after the fury of the battle was over, I saw a campwoman, of the Infantry, who came upon the field to look for her husband. Almost frantic with despair, she ran from one to another to inquire after him, but, getting no information, she immediately went to search for him among the slain. Passing from body to body, she at length found him-dead. Kneeling over his corpse, she endeavored to raise it, but finding life extinct, she gave utterance to shrieks and lamentations truly touching to hear. Her all had fallen. She continued to remain on the field, (under the fire of the enemy,) until his lifeless body was carried off, which she followed in the deepest grief. Such is affectionate woman.”
To this letter of Captain M., we add another of a most touching kind, from Lieutenant Sears:
“JALAPA, MEXICO, August 22d, 1847. “My dear Madam :
“It is my very painful duty to inform you of the death of your son, Lieutenant George D. Twiggs, who was killed at the battle of the National Bridge, on the 12th instant. I had the honor to command a battery, and while returning from the bridge, where my junior lieutenant had been mortally wounded, I met your son, who, on being informed of my situation, volunteered to assist me. While engaged in drawing one of the pieces up the hill under a very heavy fire, I turned to address a direction to him: he replied “Yes,' in the same breath, exclaiming, 'Oh! my God, save me,' at the same time, before I could catch him, falling to the ground. I caused him to be laid beside the road, and as soon as the piece was carried up
the hill, I descended myself to bring him up; but, alas! he was dead! shot through the body. A cross, a miniature, and a prayer-book were found in his breast. Permit me, madam, to sympathize with you, most sincerely, in the loss of so esteemed a son. Never has it been my good fortune to meet a gentleman possessed of so many excellent qualities of heart and mind. To every accomplishment which beautifies and adorns man's noblest character, was added a bravery and high-souled chivalry unequalled. He was a worthy scion of the noble stock from which he sprung. It may
in some manner assuage the grief of a soldier's mother, to know that her son died nobly fighting for his country. Again, madam, permit me to tender my sincerest sympathies, and remain,
“Very truly, your obedient, servant,
“Henry B. Sears, Lt. 2d Artillery.”
THE MEN OF CHURUBUSCO. ["Contreras being carried by Persifor Smith, Worth pushed on towards San Antonio and San Angel. How San Antonio was carried by Worth, and how the whole army then fell upon Churubusco, and drove the enemy from his works, and completely routed him, the letters we give in other columns sufficiently tell.”] – New Orleans Picayune of Sept. 9th.
They'll point them out in after years,
The men of Churubusco Fight!
The gallant spirits quenched in night,
And kept the field alive,
To any common five-
And each to each, with stern delight,
They'll sing their praise, when they're no more
The men of Churubusco Fight!
As one by one is lost to sight-
From off that hoary brow,
Which waves so richly now:
The deeds of Churubusco Fight:
Will smile their pictures, brave and bright,
That glorious field to win-
Five hero hearts wjihin:
The art of printing is, perhaps, the mightiest instrumentality ever contrived by man, for the exertion of moral influence. The Rev. Dr. Adams, in his late address at Yale College, remarked:
“ In the city of Strasburg, on the eastern frontier of France, there stands, in the principal square, a large bronze statue of Guttenburg, the inventor of the art of printing with movable types. It is a full-length figure of that fortunate individual, with a printing press at his side, and an open scroll in his hand, with this inscription :-And there was light. Upon the several sides of the high pedestal on which the effigy stands, are four tableaux in bas-relief, designed to represent the effect of the art of printing on the general progress of the world.
“In one, stand the names of the most distinguished scholars, philosophers and poets of all times; in another, the names of those who have been most eminent for their achievements in the cause of human freedom ; conspicuous amongst which is an allusion to our Declaration of Independence, with the names of Washington, Franklin, Hancock and Adams. On the third side, is a representation of philanthropy knocking off the fetters of the slave, and instructing the tawny children of oppression in useful knowledge; and on the fourth, is Christianity, surrounded by the representatives of all nations, and tribes, and people, receiving from her hand, in their own tongue, the word of eternal truth. Christianity! Heaven-born Christianity! Divine philosophy! look down with indifference or disdain on that bearded man, at work with tools in his smutty shop, away on the Rhine! Affect to overlook and undervalue him as a mechanic!-A mechanic! why, out of those bars of wood, and pounds of metal, and ounces of ink, he is constructing a machine to make the nations think. He is constructing wings for Christianity herself, which shall bear her, with the music of her silver trumpet, to all the abodes of men.'
A BEAUTIFUL SENTIMENT.
The late eminent judge, Sir Allen Park, once said, in a public meeting in London :
“We live in the midst of blessings till we are utterly insensible of their greatness, and of the source from whence they flow. We speak of our civilization, our arts, our freedom, our laws, and forget entirely how large a share is due to Christianity. Blot Christianity out of the pages of man's history, and what would his laws have been—what his civilization? Christianity is mixed up with our very being and our daily life; there is not a familiar object around us which does not wear a different aspect because the light of Christian love is on it-not a law which does not owe its truth and gentleness to Christianity—not a custom which cannot be traced, in all its holy, healthful parts, to the Gospel.”
A MAN WHO HAS FAILED.
Let a man fail in business, what a wonderful effect it has on his former friends and creditors! Men who have taken him by the arm, laughed and chatted with him by the hour-shrug up the shoulder and pass on with a chilling “how do ye do ?” Every trifle of a bill is hunted up and presented, that would not have seen day-light for months to come, but for the misfortune of the debtor. If it is paid, well and good—if not, the scowl of a sheriff, perhaps, meets him at the first corner.
A man who never failed, knows but little of human nature. In prosperity he sails along, gently wasted by favoring gales, receiving
smiles and kind words from everybody. He prides himself on his good name and spotless character, and makes his boasts that he has not an enemy in the world. Alas! the change. He looks at the world in a different light, when the reverses come upon him. He reads suspicion on every brow. He hardly knows how to move, or whether to do this thing or the other-for there are spies about him, and a writ is ready for his back.
To understand what kind of stuff the world of mind is made of, a person must be unfortunate and stop payment once in his lifetime. If he have friends, then they are made manifest. A failure is a moral sieve. It brings out the wheat and shows the chaff. A man thus learns that not words and pretended good will constitute real friendship.-D. C. Colesworthy.
There was no literary fame, even in Greece, until the era opened of her republican principles; but then she became the matchless land of civilization and refinement,
“Where science struck the thrones of earth and heaven,
The human form, till marble grew divine." And the literature of Greece must prove forever the kindling influences of Grecian liberty.–J. Y. Mason, Secretary of the Navy.
PERCEPTIVE FACULTIES OF WOMAN.
Sherlock draws the following admirable distinction between the instinct and reason of woman:-The perception of woman is as quick as lightning. Her penetration is intuitive-almost instinct -by a glance she will draw a deep and just conclusion. Ask her how she formed it, and she cannot answer the question. A philosopher deducts inferences and his inferences shall be right; but he gets to the head of the stair-case, if I may so say, by slow degrees, mounting step by step. She arrives at the top of the stair-case as well as he; but whether she flew there is more than she knows herself. While she trusts her instinct, she is scarcely ever deceived, and she is generally lost when she begins to reason.
VOL. I.—MAY, 1848. 17