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country, and we prefer directing the attention of our readers to what may be imitated, rather than to what must be avoided. Of all earthly hopes, those which a good mother indulges for her children are the most pure, and the most certainly within her power of attainment. of attainment. She holds, so to speak, the moral destiny of her children; and if she would but always improve judiciously and devotedly the almost unlimited power which nature has given her over them, moulding their hearts and minds to the love of goodness and knowledge, and forming early habits in accordance with those principles of benevolence and self-control, which are the basis of all that is excellent in the human character, she might be sure of her reward. Infant education is the corner stone of the moral improvement of the world.

Without entering into any discussion respecting the mental equality of the sexes, all will acknowledge that female influence, exercised as it is, and forever will be, in forming the character of the young, is of incalculable effect and importance. To secure it on the side of order, knowledge, virtue and piety, should be the unceasing effort of every individual who prizes the dear charities of home, the pleasure of refined, intelligent society, and the holy hopes of immortal life. Never may the ladies of America become indifferent to social and religious obligations; never let them neglect to lay the foundation of these sacred affections, these sublime and purifying feelings in the hearts of their children.

But to use their power understandingly and effectively for good, women must be educated. We do not mean accomplished, as that term is usually understood-but that to the love and practice of virtue, must be added a deep sense of the responsibilities under which they rest, in regard to the manner their influence is exerted on all within their sphere; and they must likewise feel assured that men approve and encourage their exertions. With these feelings and hopes the facilities now afforded for acquiring knowledge will be improved, and self-instruc-` tion, always accompanied by reflection, will generally make a woman sufficiently learned for the discharge of all her duties. We are no advocate for the public display of the abilities of woman. Home is the theatre where she should, as daughter, sister, wife, and mother lay the chief scene of her labors, and triumphs, and rewards. It is only on emergencies, in cases where duty demands the sacrifice of female sensitiveness, that

a lady of sense and delicacy will come before the public, in a manner to make herself conspicuous. There is little danger that such an one will be arrogant in her pretensions. These remarks may be considered as allusions to our own case. Nothing of the kind was contemplated when the article was commenced; but we hope to be pardoned while devoting a few lines, now they will glide in so opportunely with the current of the remarks, to our Magazine.

The reasons that have governed the Editor in the course she has pursued, connected as they are with the circumstances of her private life, she would never consent to bring before the public, were she not deeply sensible of the importance of this principle, namely, that every lady, engaging in a pursuit foreign to the usual character and occupations of her sex, and yet claiming their approbation and support, owes to the dignity of woman, an explanation of the causes that have thus induced her to leave the retirement which she nevertheless recommends as, on all ordinary occasions, the most proper, honorable and happy for females.

To obtain the means of supporting and educating her children, in some measure as their father would have done, was her only motive for undertaking the management of a public Journal. She has cause to think her work has been approved, and will continue it while there remains the probability of success, devoting its pages to the promotion and dissemination of those principles which teach us that "this life has no value, unless it is subservient to the religious education of our hearts; unless it prepares us for a higher destiny by our free choice of virtue upon earth. Metaphysics, social institutions, arts, sciences, accomplishments all ought to be appreciated accordingly as they contribute to the moral perfection of mankind; this is the test granted to the ignorant as well as to the learned. For if the knowledge of the means belongs only to the initiated, the results are discernible by all the world."

THE PILGRIMS.

ENGLAND had laid her banner down
Upon her harvest hills,

And the red tints from bloody plains,
Had left the sparkling rills;

But yet oppression filled each fold,
As that proud banner lay-

And swords, while wedded to their sheaths,
Check'd not the tyrant-sway!

Then was a fearful mustering heard,

Of that stout-hearted band;
And Freedom's spirit fired each soul,
And nerved each steadfast hand.

The dream was of a lovelier shore,

Where the smoke of armies ne'er had curled, And a free blue sky was arching o'er

From Britain's isle to the far new world.
Then roused our Fathers from their sleep,
While a low voice from o'er the deep,
Whispered the tale of that distant clime,
Which long had slept on the lap of Time-
Where years had passed uncounted by,
And suns had rolled through the quiet sky,
Shedding their rays on savage men,
Whose home was in the rocky glen;

Where Science ne'er had sent its light,

And the soul was dark as the storms of night!-
These were the men-this was the shore,
Which called the Pilgrim-Fathers o'er,

In the Christian's hope--the Martyr's faith-
Fearless of danger and of death!

Thick darkness was on the midnight sea,
And the dark blue waves swelled fearfully-
And the birth of storms was witnessed there,
As they passed away on the gloomy air;
And eyes that ne'er before had seen

The terrors of that mighty ocean-
And hearts that not till now had been
The listeners to its loud commotion,
With an iron nerve and Argus sight,
Met each dark danger of the night;

And through the darkness and the storm,
Each lofty soul grew brave and warm,

While the dauntless heart looked o'er the sea,

To its new home, and its destiny.

Two worlds have met-that English band,
And the wild Indian of our land!

The savage yell-the Pilgrim's prayer

The mother's and the infant's cry-
Were the wild sounds which mingled there,
And sent their echoes to the sky;
And the thick forest, with its clouds
Of foliage, shedding down a gloom,
Hung heavily, in leafy shrouds,

Like the dark omen of a doom;-
The raven screech-the forest moan,
Which struck upon the listener's ear,
Came not as erst did the glad tone,
From mirthful hall, or Gondolier-
But dismal and disheartening now,
Was every sound and every sight;
But still around them seemed to glow
A flame of courage and of might.

They came, as great spirits come,
Forth on the crowding world—
With no martial cloak-no sounding drum-
Nor banner sign unfurled;

They stood where the faggots burn,
By the wigwam low and rude-

Where no sacred fane, nor incense urn,

Rose up through the thick wood;

The Indian massacre and strife

The torture, and the bloody knife—

The war-whoop loud-the conflict warm,

Were met as the mountain meets the storm;
Each brow unmoved-the bosom bare,

And the lightning-blast quick falling there;—
-But the Pilgrims' prayer was heard,

On the field and on the sea;

And the hills gave back the word

"The new world shall be free!"

Those scenes have passed-the pain, the strife,
The strong and manly tone-

The ready sacrifice of life

Proud spirits, too, have gone!-
Land of the Pilgrims! 'tis for thee,
New-England, now to tell,

The storied deeds which memory
Hath garnered in its cell!

The city's spire-the patriot's grave—

The monumental pile

These are the trophies of the brave,

On every plain and isle;

And the lion strength lifts up no more

A dark oppressive weight;

While the Eagle-flag streams from the shore,

For the battle and its fate.

When Night's long veil hangs from her jewelled brow, And the chaste moon, with a pure Summer glow

And silent step, comes up the orient sky,
While clouds are golden-tipped, and near stars die
Within its stronger light-O, could I stand
Upward afar, and view our Pilgrim land-
And through the air, with a quick sight, look down
On sea, and forest, and the varied scene-
On rivers, which like silver ribbons thrown
Below, lie careless on the velvet green-

And mountains, with their hoary brows o'ergrown
And mail'd by the strong rocks,—and on the mien
Of a broad country, while the forests lave
All ocean-like, making each tree a wave!
O, then would I embody and condense

Words, thought, and spirit; and speak-now, hence,
And ever-in a tone of fire, for thee,

New-England, home of the Pilgrims, land of the free!

J. F. R.

BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF ROBERT FULTON.

When great advances are made in improving the condition of man, it is generally effected by the combined influence and efforts of Philosophers, Statesmen, and Philanthropists; but, perhaps no single individual, since the invention of printing, has ever conferred more important benefits upon his species than Robert Fulton.

This extraordinary man was born in the town of Little Britain, in Pennsylvania, in 1765. His father was a native of Kilkenny, in Ireland; and his mother was of a respectable Irish family in Pennsylvania. The father died when Robert was three years of age. Young Fulton acquired the rudiments of a common English education, at Lancaster, in his native State. His patrimony was very small; and this, says one of his friends, is what he seemed anxious to have known, that he might be considered, as he really was, the maker of his own fortunes. The peculiar bent of genius began to show itself while young; he spent all his hours of recreation in mechanics' shops, or in the employment of his pencil. At the age of seventeen, he had acquired considerable celebrity in Philadelphia, as a portrait and landscape painter. He continued to practice this art

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