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White as the fleecy cloud of sun-lit skies.
On her young cheek, health's bright and rosy glow
Was like the morning's softly tinted blush-
Deepened at the full lip, till it became
The richest hue of summer's eve ;—the flush
Of changeful feeling, joy, or hope, or shame,
Gave sweetness to a face, that else had been
Too samely beautiful. None e'er had seen
Her innocent smile, but paused to look again,
She seemed so pure, so free from every stain
Of earthly feeling ;—and young Julio's heart
Scarce trusted its own bliss, when in that face
He read (what nought save looks can e'er impart)
The love, the tenderness that steals new grace
From maiden bashfulness. And yet his proud
And noble spirit had not meanly bowed.
The holy feelings of unsullied youth-
The heart's pure homage consecrate to truth
The guileless wishes, vague and undefined-
The hallowed fancies of a lofty mind-
The hope that only on fame's mountain height
His eagle spirit e'er should curb its flight;
All these were his; and all the chains that Love
Around that spirit's daring pinions wove,
Essayed in vain its high and heaven-ward way,
Mid rose-strewn bowers and myrtle groves to stay.
No, the light fetters only served to fling
Unwonted freshness o’er each radiant wing.
And oft he fondly thought, in after years,
When past were all youth's varying hopes and fears,
And when at last was gained the prize which she
Had bade him win~a high and honored name
'Twould be so sweet to whisper, “ 'twas from thee,
Beloved one! all the inspiration came.”

* * * * * * * * *
Now when all thought him happiest, for the time
When he might claim his promised bride was near,
(Alas they know not the heart's changeful clime
Who only see its summer flowers,) a shade
Was seen upon his brow; he seemed to wear
Less joyous smiles, and his pale lip betrayed
Some secret sorrow; and at length 'twas said
That she was faithless. Though he breathed not one
Unkind reproach, the soul of life was gone

From him for ever:-he had seen her brook
Another's tenderness!

A little while,
And she was wedded-he beheld.her smile
Upon another, with the same sweet look
Of love that greeted him. Then first he knew
The misery of his blighted heart, then too
He felt how surely she had wasted all
His spirit's high-wrought energies; in vain
He strove his hopes of glory to recall,
He felt there was no guerdon now to gain;

He knew the angel form of happiness
I That long had hovered near, intent to bless. Wenenen

Had fled too far to be recalled again,
Desperate he plunged amidst the haunts of men,
And that pure heart, once filled with holy feeling,
Felt through its frame guilt's subtle poison stealing ;-
His spirit’s plumes were sullied; but not long
He paused to hear the tempting Syren's song-
Not long his noble nature deigned to share
In joys where innocence no part could bear.
There was a gentle girl, for whom he felt.
A brother's tenderness, and she knew well
His wrongs and sufferings ;-often had she knelt
Beside him, when she marked the fearful swell
Of the blue veins upon his brow, which told-
That thought again her tablet had unrolled ;
And she alone his sadness could beguile,
With soothing voice, and sweetly pensive smile,
And sudden tears she cared not to repress.
She spoke to him of peace, for happiness
She knew he hoped no longer; and she gave
Fresh motives for exertion. Day by day
Her anxious kindness won its silent way,
Until he felt that he again could brave
The world's wild storms. Affection's deepest stream
Was sealed within his heart, but the soft beam
Of sweet benevolence around it glowed ;
And then it seemed as if again it flowed
Unfettered. But such thoughts indeed were vain;
Nought now on earth could e'er unloose that chain;
His brow but faint and fleeting smiles might wear,
And memory's waste was ruled by stern despair.
But Ada felt, that deep and passionate love
Was in her heart ;--at first she vainly strove

Against its power; she knew she ought to fly,
But what devoted one would then be nigh,
To watch o’er Julio's melancholy mood,
And save him from the heart's dread solitude ?
Oh! man can never know what treasures lie
Within the quiet depths of woman's soul,
The calm still fortitude that cares to die
Even with a broken heart, yet can control
Each painful murmur. Ada knew she ne'er
Could be aught than his sister, but she hushed
The bitter thoughts that to her young heart rushed:
She knew he marked not that which soon must wear
Her weary life away. A few short years
Of mingled joys and sorrows, hopes and fears,
And then they must be parted. He to bear
Upon his brow the laurel's fadeless bloom-
She to devour awhile the secret tear,
And then to sink into the silent tomb.
Time passed away, and Ada's bloom had fled ;-
She felt that soon the city of the dead
Would greet her as its habitant; and yet ·
Her youthful bosom breathed not one regret.
She feared, if she should live and he depart,
Grief might reveal the secret of her heart;
But now, while she could listen to his voice,
Whose soothing tones bade her sad soul rejoice-
Now, while to her his tenderness was given,
Death was the dearest boon she sought from heaven.
But even this consolation was denied,
For chance too soon revealed what maiden pride
So long had hidden; pangs that long had slept
In Julio's breast were roused—“Have I doomed thee,
Mine innocent child, to hopeless misery ?"
He clasped her to his bosom, and they wept,
Bitterly wept together; then she rose,
As though the fountains of her tears were froze
Even in their flow ; her arms were round him thrown
One kiss on his pale brow, and she was gone.
Days, weeks had passed—it seemed a long long year
Since she had fled; yet from that time he neer
Learnt aught of her abode-till he was told
That she was dying. Ere that heart was cold,
Which had loved him so well-ere she was free
From earthly cares, she prayed his face to see.

He came—she lay beside the lattice, where
The jasmine too was dying,—wasted there
(Type of her fate) by no rude tempest's strife,
But by the very sun that gave it life!

Her eyes met his,-her hand his hand-life's last
And happiest moment—then—the sufferer's spirit past!

LETTER FROM SAMUEL JOHNSON, TO W. S. JOHNSON, LL. D.

[WE have this month the pleasure of enriching our pages with an original and very characteristic letter of the great author of the Rambler, which has never yet been published. It was written to his namesake, the late William Samuel Johnson of Connecticut. This eloquent and excellent man spent several years in England, about the middle of the last century, as the agent of the colony of Connecticut, and acquired high reputation among the most distinguished political and professional men of Great Britain, by his able management of an important American cause before the lords in counsel. He received the degree of doctor of civil law from the University of Oxford, and this circumstance, together with the accidental similarity of name, recommended him to the acquaintance and frieudship of Dr. Samuel Johnson. Several letters passed between them after the American Dr Johnson had returned to his native country ; of which, however, it is feared that this is the only one remaining.

There are few men to whom the learning, the morals, and the best institutions of this country are more deeply and permanently indebted, than they are to William Samuel Johnson, although it unfortunately happens that there is little left which can enable posterity to judge of his talents or acquirements.

The following brief, but accurate outline of his life, is extracted from a recent New-York edition of Lempriere's Biographical Dictionary.

“ Johnson, William Samuel, LL. D. F.R. S. president of Columbia College, New-York, was the eldest son of the Rev. Dr. Samuel Johnson, and born at Stratford, Connecticut, October 7th, 1727. He was graduated at Yale College, in 1744. He studied law, and on his first appearance at the bar distinguished himself, and soon rose to the highest eminence. He was gifted in an unusual degree with the graces of the orator. He possessed a voice of the richest tones, a copious and flowing elocution, a fertile and brilliant fancy, an understanding uncommonly energetic, quick of apprehension, capable of disentangling the most complicated subjects, highly original in its views, and trained to laborious and profound research ; and he had richly stored his mind with elegant literature, and legal science. In 1765, he was elected a delegate to the congress which met that year at New York, and was its last surviving member. He was also chosen to a seat in the councils of the colony, and was in October, 1766, appointed its agent in England, to defend its interests in the discussion of the claims against it by Mason. While there, he enjoyed an opportunity of forming many interesting connexions with the learned and illustrious men of that country, the most distinguished of whom were among his friends and associates. With Dr. Johnson he maintained a correspondence for many years. After his return to America in 1771, he resumed his professional employments, and was appointed in 1772, a judge of the supreme court of Connecticut This office he held until 1774, and, during the saine period, was one of the commissioners for adjusting the controversy between the proprietors of Pennsylvania and the Susquehannah company. In 1785, he was elected a delegate to the congress of the United States, and in 1787, to the convention which framed the federal constitution. In this august assembly he acted a conspicuous part. His influence was not the less effective for the mildness and the modesty with which it was exerted, and to him the credit of having first proposed the organization of the senate as a distinct branch of the national legislature has been ascribed Under this constitution he was appointed one of the senators of Connecticut, and in conjunction with his colleague, Mr, Ellsworth, drew up the bill for establishing the judiciary system of the United States. It was from engagements thus honourable and important that he was called, in 1792, to assume the presidency of Columbia College. This institution, which had suffered a severe depression during the political contests of past years, was now reorganized, and under the superintendence of Mr. Johnson assumed and maintained an elevated rank among the literary institutions of the country. This station his age and infirmities induced him to relinquish in 1800, when he retired to his native village, and spent the remainder of his life in the enjoyments of literature, the gratification of a beneficent disposition, and the distinguished exemplification of the excellence of the christian character. He died at Stratford, November 14th, 1819, aged 93."] LETTER FROM SAMUEL JOHNSON, TO W. S. JOHNSON, LL. D.

STRATFORD, CONNECTICUT. Sir_Of all those whom the various accidents of life have brought within my notice, there is scarce any man whose acquaintance I have more desired to cultivate than yours. I cannot indeed charge you with neglecting me, yet our, mutual inclination could never gratify itself with opportunities. The current of the day always bore us away from one another, and now the Atlantic is between us.

Whether you carried away an impression of me as pleasing as that which you left me of yourself, I know not : if you did, you have not forgotten me, and will be glad that I do not forget you. Merely to be remembered, is indeed a barren pleasure, but it is one of the pleasures which is more sensibly felt as human nature is more exalted.

To make you wish that I should have you in my mind, I would be glad to tell you something which you do not know: but all public affairs are printed ; and as you and I have no common friends, I can tell you no private history.

The government, I think, grow stronger, but I am afraid the

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