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in it she took her stand, nobly and ably, upon the side of the great anti-slavery movement, and published An Appeal for that Class of Americans called Africans, a work of great power, and which produced much sensation." In 1835 appeared Philothea, a classical romance of the days of Pericles and Aspasia. This is the Inost scholarly and elaborate of her productions, and shows an intimate acquaintance with the history and the literature of that most brilliant age. In 1841, Mr. and Mrs. Child removed from Boston to New York, and became the editors of the “National Anti-Slavery Standard.” In the same year she coinmenced a series of letters for the “Boston Courier,” which were afterwards republished in two volumes, with the title of Letters from New York ; a pleasant series of descriptions of every-day life in that great city, and abounding with philosophical and thoughtful truth. In 1846, Mrs. Child published a collection of her magazine-stories under the title of Fact and Fiction. Her last work, one of the most elaborate she has undertaken, is entitled The Progress of Religious Ideas, embracing a View of erery Form of Belief, from the most Ancient Hindoo Records, to the Complete Establishment of the Popal Church.”

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When this work of Mrs. Child's appeared, Dr. Channing, it is said, was so delighted with it that he at once walked from Boston to Roxbury to see the author, though a stranger to him, and to thank her for it.

2. Of Mrs. Child's writings an English reviewer thus speaks:—“Whatever comes to her from without, whether through the eye or the ear, whether in nature or art, is reflected in her writings with a halo of beauty thrown about it by her own fancy; and, thus presented, it appeals to our sympathies and awakens an interest which carves it upon the memory in letters of gold. But she has yet loftier claims to respect than a poetical nature. She is a philosopher, and, better still, a religious philosopher. Every page presents to us scraps of wisdom, not pedantically put forth, as if to attract admiration, but thrown out by the way, in seeming unconsciousness, and as part of her ordinary thoughts.”

Bright suns may scorch, and dark clouds lower—
Its flash is still the same.

The dreams we loved in early life
May melt like mist away;

High thoughts may seem, 'mid passion's strife,
Like Carthage in decay

And proud hopes in the human heart
May be to ruin hurl’d,

Like mouldering monuments of art
Heap'd on a sleeping world.

Yet there is something will not die,
Where life hath once been fair;

Some towering thoughts still rear on high,
Some Roman lingers there !

A STREET SCENE.

The other day, as I came down Broome Street, I saw a streetmusician playing near the door of a genteel dwelling. The organ was uncommonly sweet and mellow in its tones, the tunes were slow and plaintive, and I fancied that I saw in the woman's Italian face an expression that indicated sufficient refinement to prefer the tender and the melancholy to the lively “trainer tunes" in vogue with the populace. She looked like one who had suf. fered much, and the sorrowful music seemed her own appropriate voice. A little girl clung to her scanty garments, as if afraid of all things but her mother. As I looked at them, a young lady of pleasing countenance opened the window, and began to sing like a bird, in keeping with the street-organ. Two other young girls came and leaned on her shoulder; and still she sang on. Blessings on her gentle heart! It was evidently the spontaneous gush of human love and sympathy. The beauty of the incident attracted attention. A group of gentlemen gradually collected round the organist; and ever as the tune ended, they bowed respectfully toward the window, waved their hats, and called out, “More, if you please !” One, whom I knew well for the kindest and truest soul, passed round his hat; hearts were kindled, and the silver fell in freely. In a minute, four or five dollars were collected for the poor woman. She spoke no word of gratitude; but she gave such a look “Will you go to the next street, and play to a friend of mine?” said my kind-hearted friend. She answered, in tones expressing the deepest emotion, “No, sir: God bless you all; God bless you all,” (making a courtesy to the young lady, who had stepped back, and stood sheltered by the curtain of the window :) “I will play no more to-day; I will go home, now.” The tears trickled down her cheeks, and, as she walked away, she ever and anon wiped her eyes with the corner of her shawl. The group of gentlemen lingered a moment to look after her; then, turning toward the now-closed window, they gave three enthusiastic cheers, and departed, better than they came. The pavement on which they stood had been a church to them; and for the next hour, at least, their hearts were more than usually prepared for deeds of gentleness and mercy. Why are such scenes so uncommon Why do we thus repress our sympathies, and chill the genial current of nature, by formal observances and restraints?

UNSELFISHNESS.

found the Battery unoccupied, save by children, whom the weather made as merry as birds. Every thing seemed moving to the vernal tune of

“Oh, Brignall banks are wild and fair,
And Greta woods are green.”—Scott's Rokeby.

To one who was chasing her hoop, I said, smiling, “You are a nice little girl.” She stopped, looked up in my face, so rosy and happy, and, laying her hand on her brother's shoulder, exclaimed, earnestly, “And he is a nice little boy, too !” It was a simple, childlike act, but it brought a warm gush into my heart. Blessings on all unselfishness on all that leads us in love to prefer one another Here lies the secret of universal harmony; this is the diapason which would bring us all into tune. Only by losing ourselves can we find ourselves. How clearly does the divine voice within us proclaim this, by the hymn of joy it sings, whenever we witness an unselfish deed or hear an unselfish thought." Blessings on that loving little one ! She made the city seem a garden to me. I kissed my hand to her, as I turned off in quest of the Brooklyn ferry. The sparkling waters swarmed with boats, some of which had taken a big ship by the hand, and were leading her out to sea, as the prattle of childhood often guides wisdom into the deepest and broadest thought.

POLITENESS.

In politeness, as in many other things connected with the formation of character, people in general begin outside, when they should begin inside; instead of beginning with the heart, and trusting that to form the manners, they begin with the manners, and trust the heart to chance influences. The golden rule contains the very life and soul of politeness. Children may be taught to make a graceful courtesy, or a gentlemanly bow; but unless they have likewise been taught to abhor what is selfish, and

always prefer another's comfort and pleasure to their own, their

politeness will be entirely artificial, and used only when it is their interest to use it. On the other hand, a truly benevolent, kindhearted person will always be distinguished for what is called native politeness, though entirely ignorant of the conventional forms of society.

FLOWERS.

How the universal heart of man blesses flowers! They are wreathed round the cradle, the marriage-altar, and the tomb. The Persian in the far East delights in their perfume, and writes his love in nosegays; while the Indian child of the far West clasps his hands with glee, as he gathers the abundant blossoms, —the illuminated scripture of the prairies. The Cupid of the ancient Hindoos tipped his arrows with flowers; and orange-buds are the bridal crown with us, a nation of yesterday. Flowers garlanded the Grecian altar, and they hang in votive wreaths before the Christian shrine.

All these are appropriate uses. Flowers should deck the brow of the youthful bride; for they are in themselves a lovely type of marriage. They should twine round the tomb; for their perpetually renewed beauty is a symbol of the resurrection. They should festoon the altar; for their fragrance and their beauty ascend in perpetual worship before the Most High.

WHERE IS THE ENEMY 7

I have somewhere read of a regiment ordered to march into a small town, and take it. I think it was in the Tyrol; but, wherever it was, it chanced that the place was settled by a colony who believed the gospel of Christ, and proved their faith by works. A courier from a neighboring village informed them that troops were advancing to take the town. They quietly answered, “If they will take it, they must.” Soldiers soon came riding in, with colors flying, and fifes piping their shrill defiance. They looked round for an enemy, and saw the farmer at his plough, the blacksmith at his anvil, and the women at their churns and spinning-wheels. Babies crowed to hear the music, and boys ran out to see the pretty trainers, with feathers and bright buttons,— “the harlequins of the nineteenth century.” Of course none of these were in a proper position to be shot at. “Where are your soldiers ?” they asked.—“We have none,” was the brief reply.— “But we have come to take the town.”—“Well, friends, it lies before you.”—“But is there nobody here to fight?”—“No: we are all Christians.”

Here was an emergency altogether unprovided for, a sort of resistance which no bullet could hit, a fortress perfectly bombproof. The commander was perplexed. “If there is nobody to fight with, of course we cannot fight,” said he “it is impossible to take such a town as this.” So he ordered the horses' heads to be turned about, and they carried the human animals out of the village as guiltless as they entered, and perchance somewhat Wiser. This experiment, on a small scale, indicates how easy it would be to dispense with armies and navies, if men only had faith in the religion they profess to believe.

GEORGE BANCROFT.

This eminent historian was born at Worcester, Massachusetts, in the year 1800. His father, the Rev. Aaron Bancroft, was the minister of a Congregational church, in that town, for more than half a century, and had a high reputation as a theologian of learning and piety. At the early age of thirteen, Mr. Bancroft entered Harvard College, and was graduated in 1817, with the highest honors of his class. His first inclinations were to study theology; but in the following year he went to Germany, and spent two years at Göttingen, in the study of history and philology, and obtained the degree of Doctor of Philosophy. He then visited, in succession, Berlin, Heidelberg, Italy, France, and London, and returned home, in 1822, one of the most accomplished scholars for his age our country had produced. He was at once appointed tutor of Greek in Harvard College; and those who had the benefit of his instructions remember well his zeal, and faithfulness, and varied learning as a teacher. Desirous, however, to introduce into our country the system of education that obtained at the German gymnasia, he established, in conjunction with Joseph G. Cogswell," a school of a high classical character at “Round Hill,” Northampton, Massachusetts. Here he prepared many admirable Latin text-books for schools, much in advance of any thing then used in our country. In 1828, he gave to the public a translation of Heeren's Histories of the States of Autiquity. Before this, he had given some attention to politics, and ranked himself with the Whigs; but he now joined the Democratic party, and was in the high-road to political preferment.

In 1834, Mr. Bancroft published the first volume of The History of the United States, a work to which he had long devoted his thoughts and researches. The first and two succeeding volumes of the work, comprising the colonial history of the country, were received with great satisfaction by the public, as being in advance of any thing that had been written on the subject in brilliancy of style, picturesque sketches of character and incident, compass of erudition, and generally fair reasoning.

In 1838, Mr. Bancroft received from President Van Buren the appointment of Collector of the Port of Boston, which situation he retained till 1841. During

1 The learned librarian of the Astor Library, New York.

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