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parts power, you are not inclined now and forever to repudiate and abandon whatever is unjust, unkind, morose or of ill report, then you . have sought this Pisgah in vain, and your salvation must be wrought out where your thraldom commenced.

Land of the mountain, and the lake that only mirrors the sun in his meridian! language was not made where ye dwell, and words must give place to feeling; but we cannot forbear to repeat our conviction that both our moral and physical natures were intended to be quickened, improved and embellished by a familiarity with thy eloquent and immutable presence!

Our remarks have reached an undue length, and, as we premised at starting, are equally conspicuous for their want of order, arrangement and grace. But if they should assist to charm any of that innumerable company of over-workers from their sphere of voluntary bondage, and incline them to seek our land of promise, where the bodily and spiritual functions do equally glory in each other, then we may not have written in vain.

Should any deem our logic too bold, or our style too declamatory, we can only recommend to such a freer acquaintance with the rod and reel; and should the advocates of unceasing and unremitting toil, or the penny-splitting denizen, assail us or our motives, we shall repair to the Walton Oak, whose two centuries of growth now describes an area equally fitting and secure to shelter his sincere disciples as that over which the Angelo dome was reared for the convenience of her Catholic votaries.

D. E. N. October, 18-19.

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THE SPECTRE-CARAVAN.

TROM TUE GERMAN OY FRZILIORATE.

'Twas at midnight, in the Desert, where we rested on the ground;
There my Beddaweens were sleeping, and their steeds were stretched around;
In the farness lay the moonlight on the Mountains of the Nile,
And the camel-bones that strewed the sands for many an arid mile.

With my saddle for a pillow did I prop my weary head,
And my kaftan-cloth unfolded, o'er my limbs was lightly spread,
While beside me, as the Kapitaun and watchman of my band,
Lay my Bazra sword and pistols twain a-shimmering on the sand.

And the stillness was unbroken, save at moments by a cry
From some stray belated vulture sailing blackly down the sky,
Or the snortings of a sleeping steed at waters fancy-seen,
Or the hurried warlike mutterings of some dreaming Beddaween.

When, behold! a sudden sandquake; and atween the earth and moon
Rose a mighty Host of Shadows, as from out some dim lagoon:
Then our coursers gasped with terror, and a thrill shook every man,
And the cry was, "Alla Akbar! 't is the Spectre-Caravan!'

On they came, their hueless faces toward Mecca evermore;
On they came, long files of camels, and of women whom they bore,
Guides and merchants, youthful maidens, bearing pitchers in their hands,
And behind them troops of horsemen following, sumless as the sands!

More and more! the phantom-pageant overshadowed all the plains,
Yea, the ghastly camel-bones arose, and grew to camel-trains :
And the whirling column-clouds of sand to forms in dusky garbs,
Here, afoot as HADJEE pilgrims; there, as warriors on their barbs!

Whence we knew the Night was come when all whom Death had sought and found
Long ago amid the sands whereon their bones yet bleach around,
Rise by legions from the darkness of their prisons low and lone,
And in dim procession march to kiss the Kaaba's Holy Stone.

And yet more and more for ever!— still they swept in pomp along,
Till I asked me, Can the Desert hold so vast a muster-throng?
Lo! the Dead are here in myriads; the whole world of Hades waits,
As with eager wish to press beyond the Babelmandel Straits !

Then I spake, 'Our steeds are frantic: To your saddles every one !
Never quail before these Shadows! You are children of the Sun !
If their garments rustle past you, if their glances reach you here,
Cry Bismillah! and that mighty name shall banish every fear.

Courage, comrades! Even now the moon is waning far a-west,
Soon the welcome Dawn will mount the skies in gold and crimson vest,
And in thinnest air will melt away those phantom shapes forlorn,

When again upon your brows you feel the odor-winds of Morn!'
Germar Ant

JAMES CLARENCE MSXOAN.

THE WOOD-THRUSH.

Ix dark, wet and gloomy weather, when scarce a single chirp is heard from any other bird, the clear notes of the wood-thrush thrill through the dripping woods from morning to night; and it may be truly said, that the sadder the day the sweeter is his song.' - WILSON.

A BIRD with spotted throat and breast

Is singing on the tallest tree,
While day is fading in the west,

In strains that with the time agree :
I know the little minstrel well,

His favorite haunts are also mine;
The silence of the lonely dell

O'er-browed by hills of murmuring pine.

Breathe out thy mellow vesper lay

While shadow drapes the listening skies;
Far in the forest depths away

How plaintively the music dies !
With sunset to their nests have flown

Gay birds that love the golden light,
And left thee in the woods alone

To welcome melancholy night.

And I am glad no warbler near

Responds to thy transporting strain,
For never will a mortal ear

List to such minstrelsy again.
Let other instruments be mute,

And Silence lock them in her cave;
Even the warble of a flute,

Creeping by moonlight o'er the wave.

In murky weather, when the sun

Is hidden by a cloudy veil,
And the plumed wanderers one by one

Have hushed their pipes in wood and dale,
Delighted, I have often heard

Thy symphonies so clear and loud,
And wondered that a little bird

Was with a voice so sweet endowed.

Where alders overhang the stream

Thy mate's frail nest I have espied,
Protected from the noonday beam

With its four gems in azure dyed :
Fit place to rear a singing brood

Was the wild scene that lay around,
While mocked the gray majestic wood

Old solemn Ocean's bass profound.

Shy, unobtrusive bird ! thou art

An emblem beautiful and meet
Of the poor poet's weary heart,

That loves in solitude to beat;
A lofty heart that finds relief

And inspiration deep and strong,
When closeted with gloom and grief,

Its chords grow tremulous with song.

W. 9. C. Losmar.

FEMININE PERFECTIONS,

OR THE UN REASON A B L E BACHELOR.

BY A. B. JOINBO».*

As the study of geography and history is become universal, every body doubtless knows all that has been published concerning the kingdom of Tuscora, and its renowned sovereign Alphonso the beautiful. Still a little private record exists of the court, that has not yet found its proper place in any published annals of that far-celebrated monarch. He was, as every body knows, only nineteen years old when he was called by PROVIDENCE to ascend the throne of his illustrious ancestors ; yet he possessed a very manly figure, and his muscular energy was so great, that he could bend an iron crow-bar by the mere strength of his hands; while his intellectual powers were thought to excel his physical.

Alphonso, though he was so exalted in station, young and beautiful, shunned all the amusements with which his courtiers sought to gladden his accession to power. He was evidently unhappy. He lost his appetite, and sleep forsook his pillow. Alarm for his health soon became general, till at length, so imminent seemed the peril, that his oldest and most respected minister of state, the venerable Pokefunatus, disregarding the severe etiquette of the court of Tuscora, fell on his knees before the young monarch, and implored him to reveal to his faithful servant, the grief that was but too evidently preying on the royal breast.

Pokefunatus knew that whoever presumed to question the sovereign on any topic, forfeited his life unless his majesty should remit the penalty ; but the loyal old man was willing to hazard his life and to lose it, if he could thereby restore the King to health and happiness. He soon found that he had need of all his devotion, as Alphonso's beautiful face seemed convulsed with surprise and sudden rage, at what he characterized as the bold impertinence of a superserviceable slave. All color fled from his cheeks and lips, and his scimitar seemed to leap from its scabbard, and gleam aloft by its own impulse, so rapid was the movement of Alphonso to terminate at a blow, the offence and the offender. But the old counsellor was so greatly beloved for the mild dignity with which he had borne his high honors, and for the many important services that he had rendered to the state in the past and preceding reigns, that all the courtiers who filled the audience-chamber manifested involuntarily, so deep a consternation as to cause Alphonso to arrest his purpose, and respite the offender till he should have passed some reasonable time in preparation for death and in bidding a final adieu to his family.

* Author of a Treatise on Language, or the relation which words bear to things;' Religion in its relation to the present Life ;' The Philosophical Emperor, or the Progress of a False Position, etc., etc.

Even this melioration of the catastrophe failed to restore tranquillity to the alarmed court. The sudden outbreak of so fierce a wrath seemed to leave no man secure for a moment; especially as princes who indulge themselves in acts of tyranny, can at any time create occasion for tyrannous conduct. Alphonso saw in the constraint of his attendants that they were uneasy; hence for the purpose of restoring confidence, and perhaps from a revulsion of feeling in favor of an ancient servant, he convoked all his principal officers, and graciously declared that while he would punish every coercive interference with his private thoughts, he was willing to state voluntarily the trouble that oppressed him. It proceeded from the love which he felt toward his dear subjects, and the consequent duty thereby incumbent on him, of furnishing them with a lineal descendant to occupy the throne at his decease; while personally he possessed such a repugnance to the whole race of womankind, that he feared the aversion was unconquerable: unless indeed one could be found whose voice was habitually lower than that of any female he yet had heard; for in a loud voice seemed to lie his great antipathy. If within a month such a female could be found, he would marry her, and even Pokefunatus should be pardoned.

His majesty's gracious determination, and a hope that the prime minister might be extricated from his present peril, induced a search to be instituted throughout the kingdom, for a young lady who would suit the royal requirement; but though all the ladies of Tuscora lowered their voices for the occasion, and spoke almost in a whisper, yet when suddenly excited by either grief or joy, or perchance by anger, they would speak so loud, as manifestly to be disqualified from becoming the wife of an absolute king who could not endure loud speaking.

While the termination of the month was rapidly advancing, the messengers returned slowly and sorrowfully to report the failure of their mission. Gloom again appeared in every countenance, and the life of the ill-fated minister seemed hopeless; when suddenly as the last minute of the last day of the fatal month was transpiring, an unusual clamor was heard outside the palace; and presently a breathless messenger anounced to the assembled court that he had found a lady with a voice so low and harmonious that when he first heard it, he mistook it for the soft breathings of an Æolian harp.

Every person was delighted except the King. He was manifestly disappointed and displeased. He intimated that the month was expired, and that the messenger was too late to gain a throne for the lady, or to save the life of the criminal. Still, lest his justice should be questioned he granted Pokefunatus a respite during another month; and if within that period a female could be found who was amiable while disappointed and contradicted, he would marry her and pardon the prisoner.

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