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endeavoured to ingratiate myself into the to inquire; for, by bounding as quickly over good graces of Miss Thankful Lovely; and a the intervening ground as my legs would carmost lovely creature I took her to be. Indeed,ry me, I soon found myself snugly at home,

where I enjoyed one of the most hearty laughs that was ever experienced by a laughing mortal in this laughter-loving world."

He was going to observe, that he had the satisfaction of seeing his former favourite, Miss Thankful Lovely, linger out a life of single blessedness,' her company unsought by either sex; but the risible faculties got the better of him and he could say no more. His death happened three days after, and it was said and believed by the knowing ones of those days, that it was caused by the rupture of a blood vessel, in a moment when he was suf

her fine auburn hair, as it fell negligently over her shoulders-her dark blue eyes, which sparkled brilliantly, and her cheeks, either of which would have vied with "the southeast corner of a peach" for the ruddy and healthy appearance which it bore, had long been imprinted on my mind, as combining all that was angelic, beautiful, and insinuating.— Well, things went on very finely for several months, until from a number of trifling circumstances, I began to suspect that Thankful was not a little coquttish: and, although she ever greeted me with a hearty welcome, and a smiling face, yet as soon as my back was turn-fering under one of his laughing paroxisms.ed, she was accustomed to gigling and sneering at my expense. But as I have always considered in such cases, the charge should be fully proved before the separation takes place, I determined at our next interview, which was to be on the evening of the following Sabbath, to have the affairs all talked over, and, if possible, amicably settled.

It was in June, and the evening was truly delightful. The sky was clear, and the moon was sailing so calmly on its course, that I sighed for the glowing pen of the poet, and felt my inability to portray so glorious a scene. When I approached the house, I saw that the parlor windows were raised, but that the curtains were gently swinging in the breeze, as it swept along its course, leaving the fragrance of the neighbouring gardens on its wings. I approached the window next the door, and peeped in, hoping to find Miss Thankful alone, but saw that she was accompanied by her cousin, who was at that time on a visit to her father's.

"But it is not time that your beau should be here?' said her cousin, with a meaning glance. I suspect he does not come so regularly as formerly.'

He comes regularly enough, in all conscience,' replied Thankful; and even if he did not, I do not imagine it would spoil many of my dreams.'

"You should not speak in that manner, Thankful. Do you not intend to except his hand?-that is I mean, provided he should offer it.

"This question was to the point, and I waited very impatiently to hear her answer. Fortunately, however, I had not long to wait, for she soon replied in a pettish and hurried

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Those who have any doubt with respect to any of the foregoing facts, will find them all recorded on his tombstone in the village churchyard, where his remains were deposited by a large concourse of his relatives and friends.American Traveller.

GOLDSMITH AND ROUBILLIAC.

Goldsmith thought at one time he could play the flute as well as most men; and at other times, as well as any man living: but in truth he understood not a character in which music is written, and played on that instrument, as many others do, merely by the ear. Roubilliac, the sculptor, a merry fellow, once heard him play, and minding to put a trick upon him, pretended to be charmed by his performance, as also that he himself was skilled in the art, and entreated him to repeat the air, that he might wright it down. Goldsmith readily consenting, Roubilliac called for paper and scored thereon a few five-line staves, which having done, Goldsmith proceeded to play and Roubilliac to write; but his writing was only such random notes on the lines and spaces as any one might set down who had ever inspected a page of music.When they had both done, Roubilliac showed the paper to Goldsmith, who looked over it with seeming great attention, said it was very correct, and that if he had not seen him do it, he never could have believed his friend capable of writing music after him.

Lockhart's Coll.

From the Philadelphia Alhum.
FALSE NAME.

"Never," says the author of Pelham, "aim at perfection in a small thing, if your ambition shall covet immortality for a greater."

There are, at all times, and in all countries, some drivelling souls, content with grovelling through every path of meanness, and stooping to every act of condescension, merely to win a stare of "idiot wonder" from the gaping fool, or

to buy a gilded opinion from some mercenary minion of the press.-Some of these occasionally scramble up to transient notoriety, and enjoy for a brief season, what may properly be termed false fame. The injury and contumely reflected upon true genius and real merit, by these pretenders, are immense. In the first place it is necessary, before genius and merit can be appreciated, that the opposite qualities be contemned and decried; consequently, it is also necessary that ere the offals of ignorance, stupidity, and presumption receive award and applause, that true intellect and real mind be misrepresented and oppressed. If, for example, an individual of narrow capacities be ambitious of fame and popular applause, without having the power to gain it justly in any single department of art and science, or literature, he must attempt the acquisition of his object through stratagem. With this policy in view, he will, at every opportunity, decry genius as a phantom, the creation of poetical and enthusiastic fancy, having neither existence power.

nor

It

tery combined, will effect, even when totally disconnected with real merit.True, the admiration of the vulgar, incapable to appreciate mind or understand thought, is but disgusting incense to the lofty and independent spirit; but there are individuals who have pushed themselves into the literary ranks of this enlightened community, equally gratified with eulogy from hirelings, hypocrits, and idiots, as from those who can think and dare utter their thoughts. It is when such as these wear the laurel wreath, and are "bellowed into notice by the breath of the mob," that the son of genius turns with a sick heart from the haunts of men, and from the paths of fame, exclaiming, "all is vanity!" is when such as these, through sordid intrigue or base treachery, fly past the child of merit in the race of honor, that he turns back with curses and scorn upon the world, crying out, "Oh, fame! fame! thou that hast been better worshipped as a God-thou that hast been better than torch-light at the midnight hour-thou after whom my spirit has If ambitious to be poet, yet thirsted until mine eye is sunken and my unpossessed of the essential spirit of in- cheek is pale-thou whom I have ever spiration, warmth of imagination or fer- dreamed the starlight gilding the pinnatility of invention, he will decry all these cle of glory! wherefore have I thus long bigh faculties, and contend that nature been thine idolater, if thy light is to and simplicity consist of such vapidity as shine upon such as these ?" But he is embodied in the writings of trashy whose crown of glory has not been earndoggrel, or unmeaning rant, and these ed by his own power of mind,but by his are the chief and highest characteristics depth of stratagem, is as an owl, whom of true poetry. He will abuse Byron, treacherous eagles have borne high in Maturin, and Shelley, call Percival dif- the air. So long as their pinions shall fuse, even to ridiculous excess, and brand sustain him, he may bold his course with Willis an insignificant sentimentalist.- fear and trembling; but they will soon A man who will utter this doctrine, not become weary of their idiot burthen, and only committs a species of blasphemy at he will drop to earth convulsed with which a poet would shudder, but at once horror, and overwhelmed with ruin. proves himself divested of all true taste, Beset with the conviction of his own and one whose mind is swallowed up in impotence, and harrassed with timidity damning and unfeeling prejudice. Yet as to ultimate exposure and infamy, such men sometimes have the arrogance the horde of sycophants haunt him like or the ignorance, we can scarce say ghosts of murdered innocence—his evwhich, to effect the possession of intel-ery step through life must be weighed lectual power, and of literary reputa- with a coward and cautious soul, and tion, and by this very presumption, to instead of being the child of fame, be be so far successful as not only to de- will become its victim! ceive themselves, but also to deceive Wo, wo, wo! unto ye who wear lausome portion of the credulous public.rels which ye never won! Wo unto you It is astonishing to see what assiduity, who have toiled, grovelled, and became reckless vanity, and unblushing effron-weary, for worthless reputation, and

who live on in daily bread and nightly peril, lest the hunter raise his cry, and ye become his victim.-ROMEO.

THE TALISMAN.

WORCESTER, SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 1829.

The present number of our paper completes the first year of its existence. The second volume, our patrons are aware, commences with an enlarged sheet. This alteration in the size of our paper will enable us to present a greater variety of matter, and to publish tales of moderate length without the unpleasant note of "The remainder in our next,"

We have endeavored to furnish such selections as might please all our readers; whether we have succeeded in doing this or not, is for them to determine.

We have avoided introducing any thing that might give offence to any party in the political movements of the day, or any order or class of people in the community. Our paper is before the public-for their patronage we rest our claims solely upon its merits, together with a renewed assurance that no exertions on our part shall be wanting to render it an interesting and useful publication: of its comparative cheapness, we need say nothing.

We return our thanks to those who have fur

VIRTUE.I would rather shed tears myself than to make others shed them," said a German lady to me one day, without being conscious that it was almost impossible to say or to do any thing more generous. Virtue like this, affords more real content to the heart, than all the enjoyments of the world, which are only sought to consume the tedious, irksome hours, and to drown the anxious cares which molest the bosom of its votaries. Although vice is continually casting her silken nets, and involving within her glittering lines such multitudes of every rank and station, there is not a villain in existence whose mind does not silently acknowledge that virtue is the corner stone of the temple of felicity, as well in the habitations of the bowers of solitude; and that to watch over every seductive desire, whether on approaching, and to conquer vice by the pursuit of useful pleasure, is a victory of the noblest kind, followed by virtue, and rewarded by nished us with communications, and ask a conhappiness. Happy is the man who carries with him into solitude the peace of tinuance of their favors. Those who wish to mind which such a victory procures, for preserve their volume for binding, can be suphe will then be able to preserve it in plied with such numbers as have been lost or its genuine purity. Of what service mislaid. We are requested by our publishers would it be to leave the world, and seek to say to those who have not paid their subthe tranquility of retirement, while mis-scribtion,that it would be thankfully received, anthropy still lurks within the heart? It is the most important, and ought to be the first and last endavour of our lives to purify and tranquilize the bosom; for when this task is once performed, the happiness of solitude is then secured.But while any portion of the purturbed spirit of misanthropy sours our minds, and checks the benevolent effusions of our hearts, we cannot acquire, either on lofty mountains or in flowery plains, in dreary solitude or in gay society, that divine content so essential to true felicity. Our retreat from the world must not be prompted by a hatred and malevolence against mankind-we must learn to shun the society of the wicked, without relinquishing our wishes for their felicity.

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ITEMS OF NEWS. Considerable damage has been done by freshets at the South.

Pirates have again commenced their depredations on our vessels in the West India seas.The celebrated English Banker, Rowland Stephenson, who recently eloped with a large amount (as is supposed) of the funds of the banking house, of which he was a partner, has been arrested near Savannah, (Georgia) and brought to New York. It seems he was taken without legal process, and forcibly detained and carried to New York, where he was brought before the city recorder upon a writ of habeas corpus, and discharged from the illegal duress, but immediately arrested again upon a capias. However much we might regret that an offender against his country's laws should escape punishment, we still more regret that in seizing the person of the offender, there should

have been committed such an outrageous | breach of the laws of our country as in this case. A man is arrested by an armed band, dragged from his bed, taken on board a vessel, bound, and carried off without the slightest color of legal authority. It were better a hundred rogues should escape than that such a breach of the law should be suffered, and such high handed measures tolerated in this country. It might answer well enough in England, or Ireland, or any other European country where subjects are gagged and manacled to preserve their liberty, or dragooned into the enjoyment of freedom. In the United States such proceedings ought not for a moment to be countenanced.

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Farewell the jovial quilting match--the song and merry play,

The whirling of a pewter plate--the many pawns to pay,

The mimic marriage brought about by leaping o'er the Broom-

The good old play of Blindman's buff-the laugh that shook the room.

Farewell the days of industry-the time hath glided by,

When pretty hands were prettiest at making pumpkin pieWhen waiting maids were needed not, and morning brought along

The music of the spinning wheel, the milk maid's careless song.

Ah; days of artless innocence--your dwellings

are no more

And we are turning from the path, our fathers trod of yore

The homely hearth of honest mirth--the traces of the plough,

The places of their worshipping are all forgotten now.

FROM THE N. E. WEEKLY REVIEW.
THE SABBATH EVE.

It is a blessed hour.-The star
Of Evening lights the sleeping wave,
And blossoms in its purple home,

A lilly on the dewy grave

Of parted twilight-its soft beam
Comes purely down o'er hill and stream,
As if it bore to sinners here

Sweet tidings from a holier sphere.

O'er yon blue rocks the lonely tress
In shadowy groups recline,

Like pensive nuns at evening bowed
Around their holy shrine ;-

And thro' their leaves the night winds blow,
So calm and still-their music low
Seems the mysterious voice of prayer,

Faint echoed on the evening air.

The mists go up from lake and stream,
Like incense to a God beloved,

And o'er the glowing waters move,

As erst the Holy Spirit moved-
The torrent's voice, the waves's low hymn
Seem the far songs of Seraphim,

And clearer glows yon veil of blue,
As Eden's light were breaking through.

There is a dream of blessedness

In every hue of earth and heaven,
And the calm face of nature wears
The sweet looks of a saint forgiven :-

Oh who on such an eve can feel
Heaven's purest influence o'er him steal'
And muse upon the glories there-

Nor kneel with nature's self in prayer!

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