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THE BOQUET,

For the Casket.

ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD.

BY MRS. ELIZA ANN LEAVENS,

In that blest sphere were cherubim
And Seraphs, ever praises hymn-

I have a child, a lovely one,
Too pure, too sweet for earth to keep-
Whose little span of life was done
Ere sorrow taught the babe to weep.

'Tis true he sometimes grieved-but tears That infants shed, soon dry again:

But those that fall in after years
Flow long and sadly-oft in vain,

When anguish has the full heart wrung
And left it tuneless and unstrung.
But fairest flowers the soonest fade,-
The loveliest, first in earth are laid;

A gentle, winning babe was he,
With eyes of blue, and sunny smile,
A blessing briefly lent to me
Life's weary way to cheer awhile.

But soon did Heaven its gift recall,

To dwell where sorrow ne'er can come,-
Where pain or sickness ne'er enthral
The spirit, in its blissful home":-

While those around him sadly wept-
He ceased to breathe-and calmly slept.

He died-and on a sunny slope
They made his grave;-and there in hope
Of brighter rising-did we lay
This loved one in his early tomb;-
Gave back to earth the unconscious clay
In sacred trust-till day of doom.

Yet spirits in their ministering
To mortals, sent from realms above-
Pause in their flight-with hovering wing,
And guard the spot with Angels' love,

The 'dust to dust' returned-to keep-
Till wake the dead from final sleep.
Orono, Maine, 1840.

THE BURIAL GROUND AT SIDON.

BY MARY HOWITT,

The dead are every where!

The mountain side; the plain; the woods profound; All the wide earth-the fertile and the fair,

Is one vast burial ground!

Within the populous street;

In solitary homes; in places high;

In pleasure domes where pomp and luxury meet, Men bow themselves to die.

The old man at his door;

The unweaned child murmuring its wordless song; The bondman and the free; the rich, the poor; All, all to death belong!

The sunlight gilds the walls

Of kingly sepulchres inwrought with brass;
And the long shadow of the cypress falls
Athwart the common grass.

The living of gone time
Builded their glorious cities by the sea,
And awful in their greatness sat sublime,
As if no change could be.

There was the eloquent tongue;
The poet's heart; the sage's soul was there;
And loving women with their children young,
The faithful and the fair.

They were, but they are not:

Suns rose and set, and earth put on her bloom,
Whilst man, submitting to the common lot,
Went down into the tomb.

And still amid the wrecks

Of mighty generations paased away,

Earth's boonest growth, the fragrant wild flower decks And the soul, as it sheds o'er the sun-bright hour

The tombs of yesterday.

And in the twilight deep,

Go veiled women forth, like her who went,
Sister of Lazarus, to the grave to weep,
To breath the low lament.

The dead are every where!
Where'er is love, or tenderness, or faith;
Where'er is power, pomp, pleasure, pride; where'er
Life is or was, is death.

From the Token for 1810. EARLY FLOWERS.

BY MRS. WHITMAN.

'Pleasure sits in the flower cups, and breathes itself out once in every year in fragrance.'

As the fabled stone into music woke,
When the morning sun o'er the marble broke,
So wakes the heart from its stern repose.
As o'er brow and bosom the Spring-wind blows;
So it stirs and trembles, as each low sigh
Of the breezy South comes murmuring by;
Murmuring by like a voice of love,
Wooing us forth amid flowers to rove:
Breathing of forest-paths damp with dew,

Which the milk-white beds of the strawberry strew;
And of banks that slope to the Southern sky,
Where languid violets love to lie.

Its wings are heavy with rich perfume
Won from the hyacinth's purple bloom;
It has rifled the buds from the blossoming tree,
And robbed of his banquet the roving bee,
Their white petals far over the fields are blown,
Like pearls on a mantle of emerald sown.
No foliage droops o'er the wood-path now,
Flinging rich curtains from bough to bough,
But a trembling shadow of silvery green
Falls through the young leaf's tender screen,
Like the hue that borders the snow-drops bell,
Or lines the lid of an eastern shell;

There the gold-cup my burnish her crown all day,
As she basks in the sunshine beside the way,
The anomene opens her sleepy eye,

And look at the cloods as they wander by,
Or hide 'neath the shade of a drooping fern
To gather the dew in her waxen urn.
Already the green-budding birchen spray
Catches the light in iis quivering play,
And the aspen thrills to a low, sweet tone,
Breathed for her listening ear alone.

Through the tangled coppice the dwarf-oak weaves
Its fringe-like blossoms and crimson leaves,
And the velvet buds of the willow unfold
Into downy feathers, bedropped with gold-
While, thick as the stars of the midnight sky,
In the dark, wet meadows the cowslips lie.
Now on rocky ledges the columbines grow,
With their heavy honey-cups bending low,
As a heart, with vague, sweet thoughts oppress,
Droops 'neath its burden of happiness.
There the waters drip from their mossy wells,
With a sound like the tinkling of silver bells,
Or fall, with a mellow and flute-like flow,
Through the channelled clefts of the rock below.
Ay, music gushes in every tone,

And perfumes in every breeze is blown!
On the flashing fount and the blossoming bough
The light of gladness and beauty glow;
While all the sweet sounds through the air that float,
The hum of the bee and the wild bird's note,
The flush of the wind-flower's delicate cheek,
The perfume that steals from the violet's beak,
Confess a presence of joy and love
That bends o'er earth like a brooding dove.
The flower in fragrance, the bird in song,
The glittering wave as it glides along,
All breathe the incense of boundless bliss,
The eloquent music of happiness!

The priceless wealth of its princely dower,
Linked to all nature by cords of love,

Lifted by Faith to pure worlds above,

In vain would it utter the full, free tide

Of grateful thoughts through the heart that glide,
Fervid and deep as the hue that glows

In the burning core of the crimson rose.
Yet sad would the heart of the dreamer be,
And this world a witching mockery;
In glory, a meteor that sweeps the sky,
A blossom, that floats on the storm-wind by;
If, as it passes on arrowy wing,

It left not a token of endless Spring,
Ifit nurtured no rich-fruited flower of love,
To bloom for yon far-land of beauty above.

From the Magazine and Advocate.

THE WESTERN MISSIONARY'S

BRIDE.

BY MISS S. C. EDGARTON,

I go with thee-I will be thine
In weal, in want, in wo;

Thy path, where'er it leads, is mine-
I go, my love, I go!

To dim old woods, to trackless dells,
Where brooks sing soft and low,
Where tall rank wild flowers droop their bells,
There, love, with thee I go!

I leave that fond, maternal love

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Whose long tried truth I know,

For one who may less faithful prove-
Yet, yet, my love, I go !

I go to forests dark and lone,

Where flowers in shadows grow

Where scarce the gentle stars have shone,
Beloved, there I go!

'Tis not for wealth I seek the shade

Of forest bower and tree;

To share the sorrows on thee laid-
For this I go with thee!

To bind the bruises of thy heart
When scornful foes deride;

To be with thee, where'er thou art,
Thy loving, faithful bride!

To train the vine around our hut-
A bright and verdant screen,
Lest thou should'st sigh to think my lot
At home too rudely mean!

Through long, long days, and fearful nights-
A sleepless watch to keep;
To tremble like a startled fawn,
Above thy troubled sleep!

To comfort thee, when faithless friends
Are sleeping in their sins,
And all thy wasting labor ends

Just where thy work begins;

To sing to thee when hope grows dim,
And faith wanes dark and low,

To sing to thee some strong, old hymn-
My love, for this I go!

O spare my heart that pitying look-
These weak tears shall not flow;
'Twas that last foolish gaze I took-
I'm ready now to go!

THE POUGHKEEPSIE CASKET,

Is published every other SATURDAY, at the office of the POUGHKEEPSIE TELEGRAPH, Main-street, at ONE DOLLAR per annum, payable in advance. No subscriptions received for a less term than one year.

The CASKET will be devoted to LITERATURE, SCIENCE, and the ARTS: HISTORICAL and BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES MORAL and HUMOROUS TALES; ESSAYS, POETRY, and MISCELLANEOUS READING.

Any person who will remit us FIVE DOLLARS, abs II receive siz copies.

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THE LEAGUE OF RUTLI.
BY B. J. LOSSING.

WILLIAM TELL'S CHAPEL AT KUSSNACHT.

Faith of man in man is the broad and sure principle upon which are based the successful efforts to sunder and throw off the chains of des. potism; and it is the cement which binds together and sustains in unity every political compact of freemen, If we cast our eyes over the past history of the world, and view a particular people in their alternate phases of freedom and despotism, we shall find by investigation that the prime cause for these changes lies in the prepon. derance of either confidence or distrust in their leaders. When suspicion of the integrity of ru. lers lights the fires of rebellion, and fans the flame of discord, then it is that the ambitious demagogue erects the throne of the despot amid the ruins of republicanism. On the other hand, where men are true to themselves and their country, a few may present an invulnerable phalanx, that can crush the powers of wrong and smaintain for government, by uch fidelity to principles, the exalted character of Equity and Equality. Strongly illustrative of this truth was the league of Rutli, a league entered into

by three and thirty-men, pledged to recover the] that prelate to take strong measures against him ancient freedom of three Swiss Cantons, Uri, and at length he went so far as to declare him Schwitz and Unterwalden.

deposed. This illegal act operated in favor of In the year 1304, Rudolph of Hapsburg, the Albert, and when the diet ballotted for a new founder of the imperial House of Austria, died, ruler, he was successful, and won the crown leaving the government in the hands of Albert so ardently sought for. Adolphus resorted to his eldest and then only son, until the diet could arms in defence of his legal rights, and the com. proceed to a new election of Emperor. This mon freeinen to a man flocked to his standard. election was for some time deferred by the nobles But the nobles with their vassals were too pow. and bishops, during which period Albert exerted erful, and in the contest Adolphus lost his crown every effort to secure to himself the crown.- and his life. But he soon became very unpopular with the Albert was now left free to the dictates of his people because of his proud deportment, and ambition. He resolved to create a new duke. unfeeling and tyrannical disposition. Finding dom in Helvetia, and to unite the possessions of their oppressions increasing during his pre-tem- different members of his family, by obtaining pore reign, the Schwitz renewed their solemn the lands lying between them. These lands boleague, and waited with anxiety for the result longed to the free and industrious inhabitants of of the election. It came, and Count Adolphus Uri, Schwitz and Unterwalden. To his propof Nassau was the successful candidate. Albert osition they answered firmly, "Let us alone, we felt this check to his ambition deeply, but wisely concealed his feelings, determining however to make a bold push for the crown.

are content." And they also demanded the ap. pointment over their district, of a vogt or bailiff, to manage public affairs in the place of the inHe won over to his side the powerful arch- solent officers of Albert, who, being disappoin. bishop of Mentz and other clergy, members of ted in his scheme for consolidating his power, the diet, with some of the nobles. An offence sent two vogts that they might harrass the peo. which Adolphus gave the archbishop, caused ple. These were Hermann Geseler of Brau.

neck, and Berenger of Landenburgh, men of rude dispositions, and ready to execute the ar. bitrary orders of their master. This they did to the fullest extent, and construed them upon the broadest ground so as to suit their own base purposes.

Gessler's first act of insult was to build a strong fortress at the foot of mount St. Gothard which he named the Restraint of Uri. This insult the inhabitants felt deeply, and resolved to punish the aggressor. About the same time an act of cruelty committed by Berenger, in Unterwalden aroused the people of the three cantons to a full sense of the degrading despotism under which they were suffering. For some slight offence of his son, Arnold of Melcthal, an aged and quiet citizen,was fined a yoke of oxen. The messenger sent by Berenger to Arnold, was as insolent as his master, and when the old man complained of the injustice of the fine, and his inability to pay, the insulting minion replied, "If you boors want bread, you can drag the plough yourselves." This insult enraged the younger Arnold, and he assaulted the messenger, and in the affray cut off one of his fingers. He imme.. diately fled, knowing his punishment if caught would be severe. But the poor old man was obliged to bide the wrath of Berenger, in place of his son. He was obligated to pay a heavy fine, and not content with this unjust exaction the monster, Berenger, ordered old Arnold's eyes to be put out! That puncture, says a writer, Bunk deep into the heart of every freeman in Switzerland.

Werner Stauffacher, an inflexible patriot and a man of considerable influence, was taunted by some of Berenger's minions, in a manner similar to that of Arnold of Melcthal, and he resolved on taking measures to expel these odious vogts. He communicated his views to Walter Furst and young Arnold of Melcthal, and they took a solemn oath for freedom. These three chose each ten tried and confidential friends and every night they met in a meadow on the banks of lake Uri, near Rutli to consummate their plans. On Martinmas eve, the 11th of Nov., 1307, this little band of patriots, thirty-three in number, met for the last time before striking for freedom. Among these was the brave William Tell, the almost deified hero of Swiss liberty.When the hour of midnight arrived, they formed a circle upon the green grass, clasped each other's hands and took a solemn oath by that God who fashioned all men alike, never to desert each other, and to devote their whole energies to res. toring invaded franchises, but without despoiling others of their goods, rights and lives. In a word, like our sires, they pledged their "lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor" to their country. This solemn league was made in the free and open air, with stars as witnesses, in the presence of their Maker. When the first rays of dawn lighted the distant peaks of the Alps, they again clasped hands, again raised them in anon toward Heaven, solemnly repeated the math, they had already taken, and then each de.

is respective home to prepare for the

intimidate the inhabitants. So insolent had
Gessler become, that he seemed to feel himself
equal to his imperial master. At Altorf he erect-
ed a pole near the gate, and placing his cap
upon it, ordered every man who should enter the
gate to bow in homage to it. But there was
one man, a noble forester of Uri, whose proud
and lofty spirit would not succumb to such petty
and debasing tyranny as this. That man was
William Tell. Having occasion to go to Altorf
he passed through the gate with head erect, and
to the astonishment of the guards he omitted
the act of homage. He was instantly seized,
and commanded to bow to the cap. The high
minded Switzer looked first at the cap and then
to the armed guards around him, and then fold-
ing his arms and drawing his athletic frame up
to his full height said, "William Tell is a free
citizen of Uri, a faithful subject of Prince Albert
of Hapsburg: Herman Gessler is no more, but
hath a little more power than the forester, be-
cause of his station. We are, like all men, equal,
and William Tell will never bow to Hermann
Gessler, much less to his hat."

vogt, and fixing his keen eyes upon him said "Had I shot my child, the second shaft was fa THEE, and be assured I should not have missed my mark a second time." Gessler was almos stifled with rage at this avowal. "Tell," said he, "I have promised thee life, but thou shalt pass it in a dungeon." He was immediately loaded with irons and put into a boat, to be ta ken across the lake to the fortress of Kussnacht, in Schiwtz. During their voyage, a terrible storm arose; the billows ran high, and speedy destruction seemed to await them. Gessler, greatly alarmed, and aware of the knowledge which Tell possessed of the geography of the adjacent shores, ordered him to be released and put in possession of the helm, with the injunc. tion to steer direct for Kussnacht. Tell steered as best suited his purpose, and in less than two hours the skiff approached a ledge of rocks, the only accessible point for landing which the shore presented in that region.* With a des perate effort he seized his cross-bow and leaped on shore, leaving the vessel and its burden to the mercy of the waves.

This bold defiance greatly enraged Gessler, Gessler and his crew after beating about the and Tell was hurried to prison. The news of lake for some time, finally succeeded in landing, his arrest reached his family that night, and the but he escaped death from the billows only to anxious wife, guided in her judgment by the meet it in another form. The insulted and deep. benevolent feelings in her own heart, the next ly injured Tell, had watched with the keenest morning at dawn sent her little son, a lad of scrutiny, the fate of the skiff, and observing ten years, to plead for the life and liberty of his Gessler bending his way toward Kussnacht he father, erroneously supposing that the cherub concealed himself near a narrow defile through innocence of childhood could awaken a single which he knew the vogt must pass. With the sympathetic feeling in the hard heart of the same arrow which he declared would not have tyrant. At early dawn the child set off for Al- missed its mark, had he killed his child, did torf with a basket of refreshments for his fa. Tell now charge his bow, and with unerring ther, and, instructed by his mother, made the aim sent it to the heart of Gessler. This was usual obesiance to the cap of the vogt. The the first decided blow struck by a member of moment Gessler learned that the infant was a the leage, and the achievement nerved the othson of Tell, the base passions of his heart sug.ers with triple courage and desperate determins. gested a new act of cruelty. He ordered Tell to be brought out of prison to make a treaty for his life and liberty. The poor child rushed into the arms of his father, and with all the sim. plicity of truth and nature, took him by the hand and begged him to go home, saying Mother cried all night, and prayed to the Lord for help, and when I came away she told me not to come home without you."

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A tear mounted to the eye of the forester at
these words of his child, but a demoniac smile
played upon the features of the vogt. He told
Tell that upon one condition, his life should
be spared. It was, that his son should be placed
at a great distance from him, and an apple be
put upon his head, and shot at by him, (Tell.)—||
At this sentence, the cheek of the forester paled,
and he resolved to die rather than thus endan-
ger the life of his darling. But the boy begged
his father to comply, saying, "God will direct
your arrow." This assurance gave him cour.
age, and with a firm hand he raised his cross bow
in a moment the apple was cleft in twain, and
a shout arose from the multitude as Tell eagerly
embraced his child.

But the brow of Gessler became dark, as he
saw an arrow drop from the folds of Tell's gar.
ment when he stretched out his arms to embrace
gents of the people, his son. He at once demanded his intentions in
most in their measures. concealing that arrow under his cloak. The
edium were confined in forester hesitated, but Gessler promised him his
ASTRE VORT THƯd to, toll life if he would tell. He advanced towards the

||

tion.

On New Year's eve, they proceeded to the castle of Rotsberg in Nidwalden, in which resided a young girl, betrothed to one of the men of the league. To her he had confided the secret, and secured her aid. On a proper signal being given she appeared upon one of the walls of the castle, and by a rope which she had prepared, drew her lover up. With their united strength, all the others were successively drawn up, and without diffculty subdued the garrison and took possession of the castle. Every person belong. ing to the castle was secured, and this victory so silently and effectively achieved, was for many hours unknown beyond the walls of the fortress.

Another strong hold was yet to be taken, ere it would be expedient to sound the war-cry throughout the cantons. This was the castle of Sarner, occupied by Berenger. Caution effected a victory in the first case, stratagem gave them success in this. The men of the league, with other tried friends who had joined them, went early on New Year's morn to the gates of the castle and asked entrance as freemen to make presents to Berenger. As they were all unarm ed except with staves, they were admitted, when they immediately placed pike-heads upon their staves, gave a signal whistle that called in a numerous band from the neighboring for *This spot now known by the name of Tell's Plat form.

st, and after very slight resistance, these brave own to having constructed a garment so muching immoderately at his predicament, the whole ellows became masters of the castle. The peo- a nondescript. The buttons behind had both circumstances of which they understood at a ple, thus signally triumphant, demolished sevǝr. taken leave; the seams were worn white; and glance. At once he made up to the ladies, and al other fortresses, and among them Gessler'. || the pockets laden with all sorts of trash, banged || at once, between indefinable half fright, and fun, "Restraint of Uri." The nobles of the three || about, like a bladder tied to a dog's tail. His they ran away. cantons, joined the league of the freemen and pantaloons denied all acquaintance with his vassals, and on the following Sunday the lords boots, and the latter had never moved in the highof Uri, Schwitz and Unterwalden took the oath ly respectable circles frequented by Mr. Day which the three and thirty had solemnly vowed and Mr. Martin. at Rutli.

Such a gait as he shuffled along the streets in! His body being carried at an angle of for

This almost bloodless revolution had a powers ful influence upon the future destiny of Switzer-ty-five degrees with the ground, sent his head land, and laid the foundation of that compact of freedom which has withstood the successive earthquake shocks of revolutions that for five hundred years have repeatedly convulsed Europe to its very centre. And to every Schwitzer the name of William Tell is as familiar and dear, as is the memory of Washington to us. He left behind him a name which grows brighter as the principles of civil liberty is more widely diffused, and at Kussnacht near the spot where Gessler fell by his hand, piety and patriotism have erected the chapel represented in our Engraving. Family Magazine.

SCHUYLKILL COAL.

AN ORIGINAL COURTSHIP.

"Was ever maiden in this manner wooed? Was ever maiden in this manner won?'

·

He pursued them, and at each step, it seemed that the ungainly man would fall to pieces. The girls-scarce knowing why they did so,began to scream; and just as he was about to shout to them to know what all this meant, he ascertained by actual measurement, that his inches, spread upon the side walk, extended the length of three flag-stones and a fraction. A meddlesome foot had been put out to intercept him; and jumping up, with bruised knees, and fractured suspenders, he turned to the author of his calamity to know what he meant by trip. ping a gentleman ?"

on in advance, to apologise for the ill looking
body that followed it. His boots both down at
the heel, one run inside, and the other out, made
him put each foot down as if stepping upon rol-
ling stones; and the direction he most affected,
in locomotion, was a variety between the pig's
meanderings and the side march of the crab.- 'Gentleman! cried the other, and a shout of
His body seemed as a whole, like the Federal || laughter, in which the assembled crowd joined,
Union, each limb being an independent state, accompanied the answer-gentleman! Why
and proceeding upon its own hook. Constitu. you infernal soap-lock, what do you mean by in-
tional checks" would fetch the recreant mem.sulting ladies in the street?'
bers up, when they had wandared too far astray, Charles fumbled in his pocket and produced
from the purpose of the seat of government, but his card. The mirth of the crowd was now up.
there was a continual nullification of the dic-roarious. They looked from the bit of paste.
tates of his will going on in every joint. In board to his boots then at the card again, and
short Mr. Charles Smith looked very much at his hat. At each glance at the 'gentlemen's'
like a man temporarily tied together.' He appearance in contrast with the formal bit of
was just the individual to despise the tyrant paper held in one hand, while with the other he
sustained his indescribeables, the mirth of the
fools' conceits. There were but two horns to bystanders broke out anew. Poor Charles could-
the dilemna-he was a fool, or all the rest of only stare in vacant astonishment-but an ink.
the world were fools-and with two such propo-ling of the cause of the uproar began to come
sitions before them, few men would hesitate
which to choose.

• But you would surely pay some respects to dictates of fashion, and to denounce them as custom?"

⚫Custom! what's custom! What, but an arbitrary set of rules devised by some leading fools, and followed by the multitude! Why is not one hat as good as another, so that both cover the head ? Why is not that Swiss, in his half frock, half jerkin, as comfortably clad as the fashionable, who minces past him. Follow custom indeed! Not I, Mr. Ned. Smith!

Then Master Charles Smith, I shall positively be obliged to eut your acquaintance, in public. At home in the dark I may acknowledge you my brother; may even call you so while we chat in the twilight-but when the lamp is lighted I shall deny you again."

There was no need of Master Ned's setting up any distinction between himself and his brother. The difference betwen them was marked enough to prevent any suspicion that they belonged to the same nation-much less to the same family. The one was dressed in the extreme of the mode, and every article of his ha biliaments bore the impress of marked care in the adjustment, and constant attention to preserve it from any crease, spot or blemish. For further particulars, see any tailor's card-or look in Broadway, at the best dressed man you

meet.

But as for Charles-who shall undertake to describe him? We shall try, but fear the graphic description which might be written will not come from our pen. To begin with the head and its covering. The hat looked as it might have looked had it been used to sweep down cobwebs, and was placed upon his head as if it had happened there, accidentally. From beneath the brim, elf locks escaped in all directions, as if the Lilliputians had fastened him down, as they served Gulliver, and he had in rising, pulled up the stakes. His coat was a remnant of antiquity-no living tailor would

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over him. At length some one who recognized the gentleman in difficulty, called a coach, and Charles had made no effort to keep the same Charley escaped from his tormentors. They di path with his brother after the rather discour- vided into two parties—one insisting that he was teous conversation with which our sketch opens. the ‘gingerbread man,' the other that he was a Ho strolled alone up Broadway-not the ob- low comedian or a ‘bender ;' but such of them served of all observers, but the observed of as happen to meet this true story will recognize those only, who happened to recognize him.-in its hero the man whom they seriously thought They however merely passed with a smile, and|| of taking to the police as a vagabond. Small in a moment he was forgotten. There are too many fools in New York, for any one of the species to be an object of very particular public attention. Universal toleration is the mottoand if one chooses to have a way of his own he may keep along in it, uninterrupted and unquestioned-except when accident mortifies him. Such accidents sometimes happened to our hero.

mortifications Charles met every day and heeded not. This was something out of the ordinary. It produced an effect upon him-he was thoroughly mortified. Hardly had he reached home, having first secured the silence of his friend in need, when the two young ladies were announced, to whose fun he owed his discomfiture.The ladies had seen a part of the awkward ter mination of their frolic. The sister feared his He walked listlessly along, until some object wrath-the other feared something more, for she attracted his gaze, and appearances being nev- had suspicion of the pure gold which the rough er consulted by so independent a gentleman, he ore concealed, and did not care to sink in his es. stopped short to give it a long and satisfactory timation. Where apologies are mutually, offer. look. What he was staring at we do not knowed it is not hard to come to terms. The only it might have been a pretty woman, for even ogres stare at pretty women when they take a fancy. It so happened that a load of coal lay where he might have seen it; and it happened also that the owner was on the look out for some one to take it in. That job he very politely tendered to Mr. Charles. Now Charles did not take the charitable tender of employment at all in dudgeon. He was rather amused, and as he looked alternately at the heap of black diamonds, and at the speaker, the latter continued his offers, and specified the price he was willing to pay. Charles heard a titter, and looking up, saw his sister and a female friend, stopped by the obstruction on the walk, laugh

stipulation he asked was secresy-this, they were willing to grant conditionally. The terms they imposed were, that he should read books less, and people more--and harder than all, that he should discard some of his time endeared sloven. liness.

Charles was afraid of those girls. He felt himself within their power; and they left no opportunity unimproved to rally him, in a tone and manner which he very well understood, al. though it was unintelligible to others. His ref. ormation began with his boots, and a new pair supplanted the red and one sided leathers in which his feet has so long rejoiced. A neat pair of pantaloons were next strapped over them,

possible-to be always a watch upon her lips he took his hat of course, when her hat was brought. They left the door together..

THE PHANTOM PORTRAIT.

many weeks from the night of the murder, before his This is the original story which Washington one day, in the crowded street, he heard Irving has dressed up very prettily in the first name called by a voice familiar to him : be volume of his "Tales of a Traveller." We turned short round, and saw the face of his vic. have rarely seen so much effect displayed in so tim looking at him with a fixed eye. From that short a tale, or so much to arrest and enchain the moment he had no peace: at all hours, in all attention of the reader. The story is thorough- places, and amidst all companies, however enly German, and was related-as here given-gaged he might be, he heard the voice, and could never help looking round, he always en. by a German scholar to Coleridge. countered the same face staring close upon him. At last in a mood of desparation, he had fixed himself face to face, and eye to eye, and deliberately drawn the phantam visage as it glared upon him; and this was the picture so The Italian said he had struggled drawn. long, but life was a burden which he could no no longer bear; and he was resolved, when be had made money enough to return to Rome, to surrender himself to justice, and expiate his crime on the scaffold. He gave the finished picture to my father, in return for the kindnes which he had shown to him."

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and his coat which never looked worse than in such company, stood the innovation but a little while, before it was reformed away. His hat, like the decayed blossoms on a growing apple, next fell off, and this reformation in essentials completed--the outlines drawn-the small ele. gancies were soon added to finish the picture. At every stage of his transformation, Charles was compelled to seek the roguish Mary, to enjoin silence as to the past. She would never "A stranger came recommended to a mermore than half promise; and as Mr. Charles chant's house at Lubeck. He was hospitably was very sensitive, his visits to Mary to entreat received, but the house being full, he was lodged her faithful ward of his secret, became more fre. at night in an apartment handsomely furnished, quent than ever. He dreaded lest his petty tor- but not often used. There was nothing that mentor should give the key to his metamorpho-struck him particularly in the room when left sis, in answer to the wondering enquiries, what alone, till he happened to cast his eyes upon a could have produced such a change in the toilet picture, which immediately arrested his attenof the former sloven--now natty Charles tion. It was a single head; but there was Smith. something so uncommon, so frightful and un. earthly, in its expression, though by no means The temptation really soon became almost to that he found himself irresistibly attracted strong for Mary's veracity. She was on the ugly, it. In fact, he could not tear himpoint of giving the secret to the winds a thou. to look a.. ination of this portrait; till his sand times, and Charles, in begging her forbear. self from the fas ance, increased poor Mary's difficulties. One imagination was filled by it, and his rest broken. night after he had spent an evening in torture He retired to bed, drea,ne,, and awoke from at the house of a friend, where Mary was pres. time to time, with the head garing on him.by is looks that ent--and he took care to be as continual a spy as In the morning, his host saw he had slept ill, and inquired the cause, which was told. The master of the hous, was much voxed, and said that the picture ought to have been removed; that it was an oversight, and that it always was removed when the chamber was used. The picture, he said, was indeea terrible to every one; but it was so fine, and had come into the family in so curious a way, that he could not make up his mind to part with it or 'to destroy it. The story of it was this.My father,' said he, was at Hamburgh on bu. siness, and while dining at a coffee-house, he obser ved a young man of a remarkable appear. ance enter, seat himself alone in a corner, and com mence a solitary meal. His countenance bespoke the extreme of mental distress, and every now and then he turned his head quickly round, as if he heard something; then shudder, grow pale, and go on with his meal after an effort as before. My father saw this same man at the same place for two or three successive da ys, and, at length, became so much interested about him, that he spoke to him. The address was not repulsed, and the stranger seemed to find some comfort in the tone of sympathy and kindness which my father used. He was an Italian, well informed, poor, but not destitute, and living economically upon the profits of his art as a painter. Their intimacy increased; and at length the Italian, sceing my father's involuntary emotion at his convulsive turnings and shudderings, which continued as formerly, The jades! They had not kept his secret, af.interrupting their conversation from time to ter all! But how can a husband quarrel with||time, told him his story. He was a native of his wife at the very threshold of the honey.

“Mr. Smith, I must expose you!: "Never, Mary, never-remember, your prom ise, a thousand times repeated." "But I must, to shield myself." "ourself!"

To shield y

As they passed under a gas light, Charles looked under her bonnet. She blushed scarlet. When they were in the dark again, she stam. mered:

,'Yes, to shield myself." "How ?"

"Why, stupid! every body is saying we are engaged!"

"Well, then let them say so!"

*

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There never was a better dressed man than the slovenly Charles Smith, upon that occasion to which men and women look forward with palpitation--and upon which they look back as a dream, till squalling arguments convince them that it was no dream but a reality.

"Where is brother Ned, gone ?" inquired Charles, as soon as etiquette would permit him to speak and he felt that he must say some. thing, or look foolish.

"Here"" answered a figure which shuffled in to the room, with Charles' old boots, and Charles' old coat on, and a basket and shovel on his shoulder-"Any coal to get in ?"

moon?

Tattler and Dispatch.

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Rome, and had lived in some familiarity with, and been much patronized by, a young nobleman; but upon some slight occasion they had fallen out, and his patron, besides using many A servant girl, on leaving her place, was ac-reproachful expressions had struck him. The costed by her master as to her reason for leaving.painter brooded over the disgrace of the blow. Mistress is so quick tempered that I cannot live He could not challenge the nobleman, on acwith her,' said the girl. Well,' said the gentle-count of his rank: he therefore watched for an man, 'you know it is no sooner begun than it is opportunity, and assassinated him. Of course over.' 'Yes, sir; and no sooner over than be- he fled from his country, and finally had reachled Hamburgh. He had not, however, passed gun again.'

BIOGRAPHY.

THORVALDSEN.

The fame of the sculptor Thorvaldsen, whose

studio at Rome is visited by admiring strangers of all nations, is much cherished by his coun trymen.. His reputation is a familiar topic of conversation in Copenhagen, and in that city in Denmark, gives the following account of his are found his best works. A recent traveller early life:

His father was originally froin Iceland, but worked as a modeller and carver in the royal came in early life to Copenhagen, where he dockyards. In this capital, accordingly, was Bertel (Albert) Thorvaldsen born, in the year 1770. Though sprung, as fame asserts-and although aware, too, that he was sprung-by the mother's side, from one of the royal Her alds of old, the young Albert did not disdain his father's humble occupation, which he followed for a time with perseverance and success, the by any incident more romantic than a narrow peaceful tenor of his days flowing undisturbed escape from matrimony. It was one of those attachments which make an epoch in the lov. er's life. The object of his passion being in the humble station of a servant to a respectable have expected that, here at least, "the course of family in the quarter where he lived, we might true love" would, for once "run smooth." Here surely, we might have said, "There can be no bickerings about settlements-no fear of de. scending too low, on the fair one's part-no family feeling to be 'got over;' in short, none of those hindrances which, in higher stations, so often keep hands from confirming what hearts have already vowed! But, alas; obstacles arose precisely where they were least to be expected; The mother of the young lady refu. sed her sanction-and Thorvalsden was given

to the Arts.

From the Hartford Courant, WASHINGTON LOVED HIS MOTHER.

Immediately after the organization of the present government, General Washington repaired to Fredericksburgh, to pay his humble duty to his mother, preparatory to his departure to New

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