· we see the venerable patriarch, whose head is whitened by the changes of time and whose limbs, paralysed by age, are no longer capable of fulfilling their offices; when we see these, the aged and majestic oues of earth sinking quietly to their peaceful and eternal habitation, the grave, we may not mourn with that sorrow to which decaying youth is entitled, for they have passed through the world and its vicissitudes, have tasted its pains and enjoyed its pleasures, and now" they rest from their labors and their works do follow them." But when we behold the young, the gay, the innocent and the beautiful, slowly delivering up the energies with which they have been endowed to the cold hand of disease, and, like morning flowers before the scythe, dropping prematurely away, to moulder dust to dust,' the heart will feel its sensibilities awaken, to mourn that such should be the fate of man.'Tis true they are taken from a world in which every situation is fraught with numberless sorrows and temptations, but they are also hurried from its enjoyments, from the participation of those pleasures which childhood ever pictures upon futurity; taken from the social circle of friendship, in which their conversation had just commenced to impart its interest, snatched from the bosom of an affectionate father, a beloved mother, and from all the ties of kindred. But while we are considering the enjoyment which they might have realised and imparted to others, we ought not to forget that they have entered upon an everlasting existence, where sorrow never enters to annoy, or affliction troubles the heart." Mary Ann Mowbray,at the age of seventeen, although young in years, was old in affliction; her heart had been severely tried,ere the mature strength of womanhood had given her power to quell the adverse tempests of life. She had entered upon this stage of being, blessed with every thing of a temporal nature that promises or gives enjoyment to mankind. Earth yields no blessings ruperior to those tasted by an innocent and an upright heart. Man's brightest pleasure is in the pursuit of virtue. Mary's heart was innocent, virtuous, unpolluted. Endowed with all the gentle qualities, the finer passions, the tender sensibilities of our nature. Her's was an only brother, with whom she had been educated by affectionate parents; with him she had come up rejoicing through the bright and promising spring time of life; in Edwin, her soul, fraught with all the affections of a sister, had pictured out the highest state of human goodness. Branches of the same stock, they lived and grew together. In his lofty forehead, at that season when he was just verging upon premature manhood, she fancied that she read the delineations of future greatness. Edwin Mowbray was worthily entitled to the love of his kindred and the friendship of all his acquaintance. The general features of conduct which marked his life were such, that were an enemy, if he might have had one, could barely discover one soli, His tary instance of doing wrong, to mar his character. This is no exaggeration; every person I presume, if he will examine the circle of his acquaintance, will discover some whose characters are as free from censure as that of Edwin Mowbray. Human nature is not so totally depraved but that there are many, who from the natural goodness of their disposition, together with an education calculated to promote every thing that is good, are, we may assert, almost fruitless. Man may well be proud of such examples, and well, indeed, would it be for him, if he would make the conduct of such people his guide, and their virtuous qualities a goal to his ambition.* early taste for education and his thirst for literary acquirements led him to devote so great a portion of his time, and apply himself so closely to these pursuits, that he hastened that debilitating disease which had for along time threatened to bear him, at some future day, beyond the things of this changeable world. Mary Ann beheld with the keenest pangs of sorrow, the slow but sure progress af the fatal malady, when in its first stages, and she long cherished the hope that it might be counteracted by proper attention and that Edwin might again be restored to health, to happiness and to the circle of his anxious friends. Edwin's debility increased so slowly that its course might not be traced, from day to day, by those who were inmates of the same dwelling, but if they measured its progress by the lapse of weeks, the change which they discov. ered he had undergone, convinced them that fatality was stamped upon the disease, and that they must soon deliver up one who had been as a shining light among them, and follow him to the cold grave. Edwin felt, sensibly felt the reality of his situation; a secret voice whispered in his heart that this world should soon be no more to him. He breathed the balmy atmosphere of spring, fragrant as it was with the perfume of many flowers, and his soul taught him to believe that it was for the last time. He heard in the minstrelsy of the zephyr mournful tones of music, which, he was conscious, would soon be a requiem over his grave. During the early part of his illness, ere the dread power had brought him to his death bed, he often sat wrapped in a reverie of thought at his window, looking forth upon the landscape that lay in summer's richness before him, to enjoy its beauties, which, if he was not taken from them, would themselves soon fade away. He was thus sitting one afternoon, breathing in his soul the holy calmness and serenity that was flung over the earth. His affectionate and watchful sister was also sitting near him, often turning towards him an eye that spoke of gloomy forebodings.in * Edwin, formed as he was to arrive at early maturity, seemed also destined to become a victim to early decay. His constitution, naturally delicate, had fallen a prey to his own ambition. she go forth to muse and weep over the grave of the brother whom she had loved; and, as often when the earth was sleeping, and the wind murmured not through the forest, her sweet voice, rendered more lovely by its mournful and touching pathos, was heard creeping out upon the atmosphere and dying away, like the melody of a bird, while she chaunted the following the heart. "This," said Edwin, breaking a to this world, looked the most inviting. Mary long silence," this is the state of man. " I Ann was not sensible of the magnitude of her have tasted, my sister, I am well assured, the deprivation at first; but, as day after day purest joy that this world can afford; I have passed away, the loneliness of her situation not lived to mingle in the broils and conten- became more and more apparent. But, in her tions of the busy world, or to find my spirits solitude of heart she found a pleasure in the depressed by the afflictions that necessarily a- performance of any trifling thing that remindwait on man, I feel that my destiny is fixed, ed her of Edwin; in perusing those books he that the earth shall never again come forth to had loved to read, and in hoarding all the litmy view in the renovated apparelling of spring. tle relics he had left. Often during the sucLife seems but a waning taper, like the sun ceeding spring, when the high moon was flingfast verging towards its goal. All the antici-ing her mellow lustre over the landscape, did pations, my sister, which we have so fondly nurtured and conversed upon concerning the days of futurity, are now to be destroyed. I cannot anticipate any thing for the future in this world, but I can taste enjoyments if they are vouchsafed unto me. And how congenial to my heart is the quietude of the present scene; it reminds me of the days when we have gone out together into the fields and forests, in the untarnished hilarity of youth." The tears rolled fast but silently down the cheeks of Mary Ann; her feelings were wrought to an uncontrollable height; her sorrow awakened a sympathizing sigh in the bosom of Edwin, and he paused." But, Mary Ann," continued he after a few moments, "we must not look entirely upon the darker side of existing circumstances, or arraign our own selfish judgment against that of Him who guides and gov. erns all with an arm of undeviating justice.-He does not afflict man only as it is for his own good, to aid in working the purification of his heart. Let us remember and be thankful for the almost unbroken happiness with which our past days have been blessed, and whatever may await us in the future, bow submissively to the yoke, and bear the burden without repining." Mary Ann felt a holy calmness, like resig nation, come over her heart with a. soothing influence at these words, and her tears again were sealed to their fountains. Her feelings had not been wrought to such a pitch that she had spoken; she knew that Edwin was aware of his situation, and that his heart was in preparation for the approaching change; she therefore did not desire to prolong a conversation that would only increase her painful reflections. Time passed along, and sober autumn brought his golden sheaves and yellow leaves upon the earth. Decay, old autumn's fatal compeer, manifested his power not only over the vegetable word, but also over the animal kingdom. The disease which had so long preyed upon the health of Edwin, seemed fast approaching is crisis; and before the reign of winter, his disembodied spirit had passed to that world where decay is never known, "where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary soul finds rest." He died in that enthusiastic season of life when the hopes of manhood's morning were brightest, when the world exhibited its fairy scenes in their most gaudy coloring, and every thing that tends to bind the young and ardent heart LINES. When the tired roe-buck, at the dawn What then can mitigate his woe? What happiness restore To his lone bosom, who shall know He seeks no comfort, but away And weeps, throughout the cheerless day, His fate is mine, I must go on Joyless and broken hearted, My brother, o'er thy" storied urn" A father and a mother turn To mourn o'er him who sleeps. Yes, brother of my better years, Whom friendship could not save, Fall o'er thy grassy grave. Yes, I did love thee, and all things CLARENCE. SELECTED. FROM THE EMERALD. "I am extremely glad to see you."-There are more lies contained in these few words, than in all the written speeches in a lawyer's office; and still, the expression is on the tip end of every one's tongue. Imagine yourself seated in your sanctum sanctorum, wrapped up in the study of some favorite author, or communing with the hallowed nine-when, lo! in pops a creditor, and throws a bucket of ice-water upon your burning thoughts! "Ha! my dear friend. I'm extremely glad to see you." There's a thumper for you to answer for! Miss is preparing for a party; the carriage is waiting at the door-and still she lingers before the mirror adjusting her rich tresses, (i. e. beau catchers,) when in comes a dear friend; biting her lips with vexation, at the same time forcing a smile, she exclaims "ah! I'm extremely glad to see you!" That's another thumper. Madam has pickles or sausages to make, and is up to her ears in pots and kettles, when Mrs. Somebody enters with her six little ones, all dressed off as neat as if they'd just been freed from six months imprisonment in a bandbox. "Bless me! I'm extremely glad to see you!" It's a thumper-it's a downright lie; in her heart she wishes her and all her brood to I'd liked to have said it. When I hear a person say—“ do call again and see me," it sounds very much like "John shew the gentleman out." If I hear a man say he is sorry for the losses of his dear friend, I generally translate it, "hold fast is a good maxim." There is no such thing, as sincere politeness; to be what the fashionable world terms polite, we must, necessarily, be hypocritical. The true characteristic of sincerity is bluntness, and a sincere man will never have the BENEDICT. back-ache. OLD AGE. Every one wishes to reach a good old age, but few persons wish to be thought old. The love of the vanities of this world, and the fears of death, are the cause of the first; and the imperfections which accompany age, and render men a load to themselves and others, are the reasons of the second. It sometimes happens, that vice, though it generally quits us with age, still lurks in the heart of the old man, and gains sufficient influence to rekindle his passions. We must not be astonished if such an old age, separated from virtue, becomes the object of universal contempt. BRIEF SENTENCES. ing, for he has thereby more ways of exposing himself. It is ungenerous to give a man occasion to blush at his own ignorance in one thing, who perhaps may excel us in many. No object is more pleasing to the eye, than the sight of a man whom you have obliged; nor any music so agreeable to the ear as the voice of one that owns you for his benefactor. The coin that is most current among mankind is flatterry; the only benefit of which is, that by hearing what we are not, we may be instructed what we ought to be. ENGLISH PROVERBS. In every work begin and end with God. The grace of God is worth a fair. He is a fool who can not be angry; but he is a wise man who will not. So much of passion, so was. much of nothing to the purpose. It is wit to FROM THE PHILADELPHIA ALBUM. YOUNG PHILOSOPHY---HOPE. Guard well thy thoughts-YOUNG. Nothing more strikingly displays the fettered greatness of the human mind, of the soul to swell itself beyond the limthan expectation that ambitious desire its of the present. Prying anxiously into the obscurity of the future, fancy embodies from he mist some phantom hope, that often beckons us to our destruction. It is the attractive power of these expectations that persuades man to activity and exertion Like the declivity that draws the rock down the side of the mountain, it attracts him rapidly, and often unreflectingly, down the path of life. The chill of disappointment cannot cool his ardour: for as each appliance to the longings of his diseased We should take a prudent care for the future, but so as to enjoy the present. It is no part of wisdom to be miserable to-day, because we may happen to be so to-morrow. To mourn without measure is folly; not to mourn at all, insensibility. Some would be thought to do great things, who are but tools and instruments, like the fool who fancied he played upon the organ, when he only blew the bellows. Though a man may become learned by another's learning, he can never be wise but by his own wisdom. He who wants good sense is unhappy in having learn-nature proves vain, he the more eager ly essays a new remedy. Still," Hope | circumscribed so far as it is susceptible enchanting smiles, and waves her golden hair."—As expectation is the director of most human efforts, it is evident, that it must be greatly instrumental in modulating the moral character. Hope is ever on the alert to give the disposition's career its bent. But this mighty projector renders her aid, indiscriminately, to vice or virtue. If the object of her votary be evil, she will flutter be fore him, and dazzling his eyes with a prospect of success, seduce him onward in the path of guilt. But with the virtuous, she brightens into angelic sweetness. She then confirms the purity of the character, of restraint, by reason. The flood of evils which flow in when the unchained fancy becomes its purveyor, must at length inundate the rngged virtues of reality. The duties of life are mostly of that unromantic cast, which fancy, made fastidious by the intemperance of hope, revolts at. And even were these homespun virtues connected by nature with the most tender and delicate associations, yet the extravagance of Hope would direct her to newer and wilder objects. The mind dazzled with long expatiating on the marvellous and ideal, turns to the cold, and often contemptible, but not less unavoidable, realities of life, with disgust and aversion. "Hope humbly then." generally weakens those powers, which The premature enjoyments of hope are requisite for the acquirement of their reality. The intellect of its follower becomes enfeebled with its ideal food, and dwindles into an imbecility, so wavering and variable, that even hope despises and forsakes it. His attention And it becomes necessary that so universal a spring of human action should be diricted to a path, where the char-is drawn from the steps on which he acter may safely follow. The subjects of emulation should ever be such, as to make excellence desirable. There is a strange repugnancy in the human character to witness another's superiority; and this passion is frequently extended to their vices as well as their virtues. How important must it be then, to accustom the mind to the contemplation of really great actions! The revolutions of England, America and France, which have so shattered the foundations of tyranny, were produced, not so much by actual oppression, as by the resplendency of the Greek and Roman examples. As the dominion of expectation is so powerful, the fancy should only be allowed to range in those fields of anticipation, where she may glean something to excite the love of virtue, or urge in the race of honour. There is an extravagancy of hope which frequently unhinges and disorganizes the character; and to which the ardour of youth is most liable. That vacuum of the mind which is so ready in compassing its airy nothings, to expand beyond the limits of probability, should be now stands, and which it is necessary to ascend, to the halo which gilds the pinnacle. The means are forgotten in contemplating the effect. A future which does not and never will exist, swallows up the moments of his life; and if, at last, convinced of his folly, he lowers his glance to real life, he finds that he has so long breathed in the rarified atmosphere of hope, that he cannot respire in dull and heavy reality. He indulges hope in inaction, until it is confined to indolence and indolence to imbecility. He contemplates his flight, until his intellectual sinews are contracted, and his ability to soar has departed. Then he discovers that the brilliant mists of hope which had encompassed his intellect, had rotted his energies piece|| meal away. But the luxury of hope not only weakens the mental powers, but it infects the disposition. The mind seems to curdle into bitterness, while basking in the beam of hope. 'Happy it is not; For what it has not, stil! it strives to get, ABSENCE OF MIND. What the world calls an absent man, is generally either a very affected one, or a very weak one; but whether weak or affected, he is in company, a very disagreeable man. Lost in thoughts, or possibly in no thought at all, he is a stranger to every one present, and to every thing that passes; he knows not his best friends, is deficient in every act of good manners, unobservant of the actions of the company, and insensible of his own. His answers are quite the reverse of what they ought to be; talk to him of one thing, and he replies as of another. He forgets what he said last, leaves his hat in one room, his cane in another, and his sword in a third; nay if it was not for his buckles, he would even leave his shoes behind him. Neither his arms nor his legs seem to be a part of his body, and his head is never in a right position. He joins not in the general conversation, except by fits and starts, as if awaking from a dream; I attribute this either to weakness or affectation. His shallow mind is possibly not able to attend to more than one thing at a time; or he would be supposed wrapt up in the investigation of some very important matter. Such men as Sir Isaac Newton and Mr. Locke, might occasionally, have some excuse for absence of mind; it might proceed from that intenseness of thought that was necessary at all times for the scientific subjects they were studying; but for a young man, and a man of the world, who has no such plea to make, absence of mind is a rudeness to the company, and deserves the severest censure. killed him; as Dr. Bently, Bishop Stillingfleet's chaplain told me, that he believed Mr. Locke's thorough confutation of the Bishop's metaphysics about the Trinity, hastened his end. Pope writhed in his chair from the light shafts which Cibber darted on him; yet they were not tipped with the poison of the Java-tree. Dr. Hawkesworth died of Criticism; a malady which some would make contagious among authors. Singing-birds cannot live in a storm. QUEEN ELIZABETH'S TIME AND THE PRESENT. If we may credit the court-wit of Queen Elizabeth's time, the fopperies of that day nearly equalled those of the present. He thus describes them." We use much bombast and quiltings to seem better formed, broader shouldered, smaller waisted,and fuller thighied than wee bee; wee barbe and shave often, to seeme younger than wee bee; wee use perfumes, both inward and outward, to seeme sweeter than wee bee; use courteous expressions, to seeme kinder than wee bee; lowly obeyances, to seeme humbler; and sometimes grave and godly communication, to seeme wiser and devouter than wee bee." "What is Man?-This question recurred to my mind with a peculiar force, as I sat gazing at the starry heavens, lighted up by the mild beams of the moon on the evening of one of our long summer days. The noble Susquehannah rolled at my feet; beyond were dark, tall forests; hills rising on hills; and the enchanting prospect was terminated by a distant mountain, towering far above the rest.— On my left lay a small village; the smoke had ceased to issue from the chimnies of its dwel lings, and the citizen to parade the streets. All nature was buried in profound repose. What is man? again sounded in my ear. He is, I mentally exclaimed-he is a strange being. Always changing, he never pursues one course steadily. At one time you see him follow his plough with a cheerful and happy countenance, the possessor of all that can make life desirable. Again, that cheerof wrath have pillaged and burnt to the earth ful cot has been visited by war; the demons his once happy home. And where is he now? In the ranks of his countrymen, on the red field of battle-dashing on to the conflict, determined to revenge the wrongs that have been heaped upon him by the sanguinary foe.— Now he lies upon the bloody plain," helmet cleft and banner lost;" pale and ghastly is the countenance that was once animated by the hopes of victory, and sunken is the eagle eye whose lightning glance could electrify and bring thousands to the deadly charge. That hand, which "waved the brand in war, hangs nerveless at his side," the form which thousands loved and looked up to for succour, become a prey to the croaking raven, and the screaming vulture. Sad thought! Yet a has |