most a putrefied mass, possessing naught of life but the power of endurance, and all of death save the silence of the grave. The inebriate should not be regarded with indifference. No: rather let us rally to the rescue, and from the vortex of intemperance snatch the wretched victims who are constantly being engulphed, as in a lake of molten fire. There are scenes, revolting to humanity, constantly coming under our observation, consequent on the legal toleration extended to the venders of distilled liquors. Moral suasion has seized the monster, and the strong arm of organized bodies has endeavored to bind him, but has only succeeded in part. Now, what shall we do? Shall we still refuse to have it become a political question, and keep it from our ballot-box and our halls of legislation, where it could at once be shorn of its strength? Let the champions of temperance stand undaunted on the stormy battlements of this great reform, which is calculated to blot out from the world the foulest stain that ever disgraced humanity.

The most skilled artist has failed in his attempts to delineate upon canvas the wretchedness of the inebriate's family. For such a task his pencil lies broken before him; and the combined eloquence of thousands, in their most graphic descriptions, have failed to portray their woes. Ah, who can describe with language, or illustrate with metaphor, the havoc that intemperance has made among mankind?

In executing a descriptive scene of its abomina tions, methinks the acute conceptions of fancy, and

the loftiest flights of the imagination, would be inadequate to the task. Could we change the mighty ocean to paint, transform every stick into a brush, make every man an artist, every star a scaffold, and the outstretched, boundless sky a canvas; could we take the dismal clouds for shade, the frightful lightning's awful element for tinge, the midnight darkness for drapery of gloom; could we use the doleful winds for sighs, the countless drops of rain for tears, the broken music of the howling storm for wails, and shrieks, and cries, the earthquake's violent shock for agonizing pains, and the long, loud, rumbling thunder for piteous, dying groans; and could we, with pious Joshua, command the glowing sun to stand still in the west, and the full, blushing moon in the distant east, and there wait, while laboring artists dash the amazing horrors of intemperance on the expanded sheet, to delineate all its loathsome, horrible, and everlasting effects, would quite exhaust the ocean, wear out every instrument, tire every artist, and more than fill heaven's immeasurable blue from pole to pole.

MISS ALICE HOLMES,

AN AMERICAN AUTHORESS.

"Oh! who would cherish life,

And cling unto this heavy clog of clay,

Love this rude world of strife,

Where glooms and tempests cloud the fairest day."

ALICE HOLMES was born in the county of Norfolk, England, February, 1821. Her father, an enterprising mechanic, maintained himself and family by the fruits of his industry, in his own country, until, drawn into the broad current of emigration that has wafted Europe's millions to our shores, he embarked with his effects and family to seek a home and fortune in the New World. Bound for New York, the vessel set sail in April, 1830, and landed off quarantine in the harbor of its destination, on the 19th of June following. On their passage, to the terrors of a long voyage, tempestuous winds, rolling billows, and those inconveniences usually realized in crowded ships, were added the horrors of disease. That most loathsome of all maladies, small-pox, made its appearance among the passengers, and among its subjects was the little Alice, having just then entered upon her ninth suminer. When the passengers disembarked,

the fell disease was still upon her; but she was permitted to behold the beauties of the New World, a scene, whose anticipation had filled their hearts with raptures of delight, raised their drooping spirits on the boisterous ocean, and influenced them to leave dear friends and country, with no hope of ever communing with them again. But, alas! it was the little sufferer's last view of the green earth, land of promise, clear blue sky, and glorious sunlight, which painted upon her memory an abiding image of beauty. She was taken to the city hospital, and when medical skill had broken the fetters of disease, it was found that her sight was irrecoverably lost. Her parents, immediately subsequent to landing, took up their residence in Jersey City. Though her young and gentle spirit had not yet advanced far enough on life's rugged journey, fully to realize the greatness of her loss, yet sad and lonely must have been her condition at this time. For she was a stranger in a strange land, and having not yet learned to substitute other senses for that she had lost, in communicating with the physical world, and thus beguile her misfortune, the long monotonous hours and days passed heavily away. Oft did her thoughts mount on pinions of fancy, and wing their way over the star-lit Atlantic to her native cot, and hold sweet converse with her little schoolmates, and the scenes of her childhood, now more bright and loving than ever.

To these prospects, she adverts in the following simple, yet graphic lines:

"Farewell to the cottage, the garden and flowers,
Where oft in my childhood passed frolicsome hours;
Farewell to the meadow, the brook and the trees,
Where the music of birds is borne on the breeze;
Farewell to the lane, the green hillside and glen,
Whose paths I have trodden again and again;
Farewell, dear companions, so joyous and gay;
For, alas! I must go away, far away."

In January, 1837, through the generosity of a friend of whom she speaks in the most glowing terms of gratitude, Alice became a pupil of the New York Institution for the Blind. And by virtue of an act passed by the New Jersey legislature, in the ensuing year, providing for the sightless youths in that state who chose to enter the New York Institute, she was enabled to prosecute her studies there five years longer. By this public munificence, she received a thorough knowledge of all the scientific branches, included in an English education. While at this, one of the noblest monuments of human benevolence, daily acquiring additional rays of intellectual light, that dispel the heavy gloom of ignorance, and open to the soul pure and inexhaustible fountains of happiness, and associating with those young hearts whom a like affliction rendered tenderly sympathetic and kind, her years glided pleasantly away, leaving no room for despondency. There is, perhaps, no period in life, of which we retain such pleasant recollections, or around whose scenes cluster more hallowed associations, than that of our school-days. Free from the sordid cares and perplexities of life, the ambitious