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osecure the independence once fought for so successfully, he bore a conspicuous part as the acknowledged leader of the war party. During that boisterous period, he was the pilot who weathered the storm. The ship of state was under his guidance, and nobly and skillfully did he control and direct her. It was owing to his unshrinking firmness, equanimity of temper, calmness of judginent, and commanding talents, that we were, in a great degree, indebted for the successful issue of that war, and the honorable peace which followed. The voice of detraction which was loudest at that period, has long since been silenced. Even party asperities were softened by his dignified and patriotic course during that period, and contributed by his firmness, purity, and enlightened patriotism, to the glorious issue of that struggle.

The last public acts of Mr. Madison, were as a member and as presiding officer of the convention which formed the present constitution of Virginia. The cherished son of that state, he would not refuse her his services, even at a time when years and infirmities demanded a respite from public care, and the calin retirement and solitude he had so long sought.

For sixteen years (with a brief exception) this patriarch had lived in retirement, aloof

the long flickering lamp has at length gone || ten thousand dollars besides, that my inter-
out. It was indeed hoped that he might yet est may be amply sufficient for my support.
be spared for many years. But this hope
was the offspring of wishes too ardent to be
realized. However deeply the blow may be
felt, it came not upon us without our being,
in some measure, prepared to receive it.

Just then a new idea dropt into Islam's head

This sum was hardly fixed on, however, ere Islam foresaw that it would be wholly insufficient. It will pinch on all sides still said he; I could not keep a carriage-nor travel into foreign countries, as I have often It is not for us at this time, to refer partic- thought I should like to do-besides I should be ularly to the political opinions of Mr. Madison. confined to live in a mean way—it would allow That they proved to be in the main theme to be contented and lead an easy life, to political opinions of the people, and identified be sure, if I was satisfied, like the brute with, with the policy of the country, there cannot mere ease, and enough to eat. I will add, at this day be a doubt. A more fitting oppor- let me see-yes, twice as much for a handtunity for referring to them may soon occur. some country seat alone-and ten times the The sorrows of an united people are poured amount in bank stock.-This will be a capital forth at his grave, and it is not now the time fortune-it will enablə me to gratify all my to trouble the long calmed waters of political desires. bitterness.-He triumphed from first to last, by the force of pure patriotism, incorruptible—then even then I should find many richer integrity, and talents that placed him foremost men in the country than myself. He pondered among the first of a band of statesman and on this awhile-it roused up all the jealousy patriots whose equals we shall perhaps never of his soul-he did not care about outshining see again. them all in the splendor of his establishment and mode of living-but he felt that the ability to do so would be absolutely necessary to his happiness-and he was at once launched into a wide ocean of calculations, which carried him finally to ten millions.-With this he was, perfectly sure of being satisfiedbut a new idea struck him again: he had thought of traveling abroad—he would meet with men of mammoth fortunes in Europehe considered a moment, and added a cypher to the ten millions. This, said he, would put me above the fear of meeting a rival in point of wealth.

MISCELLANY.

From the Trenton Emporium.
The World.
A VISION.

ISLAM sat in the door of his cottage; and an from party dissensions and party prejudices. unusual weight of despondency preyed upon During his whole political career, he was bit-his mind. His circumstances, to besure, terly assailed and warmly defended. No man, were not so bad—he was about as prosperous with the exception of Mr. Jefferson, has en-as his neighbors; but then, he thought, countered more political and personal abuse, could he escape the endless round of care and none ever achieved a greater triumph and vexation, to which a life of business over his enemies. To the last hour of his exposed him, could he have time for reposed public life, he was hunted by opposing factions meditation; in short, could he be independent and it was not until he had retired to the of a thankless and selfish world how happy shades of his own cherished retirement, that he would be. He mused upon this thought political adversaries began to do him justice.until the mysterious agent who presides over The influence of his opinions and example the temporal affairs of men stood by his side. became, at length, so universally acknowledg-I have seen, said the strange visitor, the ed, that, either through policy or conviction, current of your thoughts, and that you long all professed to be his admirers. Though for wealth. Tell me by to-morrow what dead to the political world, so far as regarded amount you desire, and it shall be yours. its struggles for ascendency, his name and fame were canonized in the hearts of his countrymen, who vied with each other in doing homage to his talents and his virtues. He retired from political life with dignity, as he had sustained himself in it with fidelity, patriotism, and an ability that encountered no superior.—The latter years of his life were characterized by that purity and simplicity which ever formed a part of his character, by adorning a circle of immediate friends, who knew and loved him well, and by a practice of all the virtues which ennoble man.

The event although it seems to have visited us suddenly-was not unexpected. Recent accounts have represented the health of this venerable man, as in a very precarious state, and there can be no astonishment that

But he soon found that he was no nearer being satisfied now, than he was with the first sum he named to himself. It appeared absolutely necessary that he should not only be richer than any other man in the world, but that he should be able to fill the world with the sound of his deeds of charity—that he should be able to establish millions of free schools and hospitals, and churches, and so forth, besides laying by some ten, fifteen or twenty millions per year. In the midst of these profound meditations, however, on the subject of fixing the proper sum of wealth which he should desire of his supernatural no visitor, the minister of fate suddenly re-appeared.

le

a

D

The speaker vanished, and a thrill of de-
light ran through the veins of Islam. But
he immediately bethought himself of the
answer he should return his new acquaint-
ance, when he re-appeared. At
difficulty was apparent; but as soo
had taken up his pencil to make the
tions necessary, he found that that que
was not to be answered so readiy as
imagined. At first he set down two thousand
dollars as the sum of his wishes-It will buy,
said he, this little place, enable me to stock
my shop-repair my fences, and buy me a
good yoke of oxen-I shall then be independ-
ent. He mused on this awhile. Still, on
the other hand, he thought, I should have to
labor-sickness might reduce my business to
disorder, and bring poverty. I will have

Islam declared that he had not yet been able to fix the precise sum, and begged his kind visitor to give him one hour more.My errand is finished was the reply-I go, to return no more-look inward and answer thyself the question-wouldst thou even be content with the wealth of India, and the glory of Alexander, and the homage of the world, and a title to heaven ?

The messenger had just pronounced these words, and was in the act of vanishing, when Islam awoke-for he had been dreaming,

you should have blushed when you went in.-but to make nse of it on all proper occasions,
That heart alone is safe which shrinks from it might have saved from ruin, both them,
the slightest contact or conception of evil, and their wives, and their children.
and waits not to inquire, what will the world|
say?-New-Yorker.

Learning how to say 'No.'

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What will the World say? WILL not Miss Such-a-one laugh, and Mrs. Such-a-one sneer, and Mr. Somebody turn But the worst of it is still behind. The ruin up his nose, if I do this or that, or if I don't do this or that? Fool! what matters it to of character, of morals, and of the very heart thee as to what the world may "say? Hast and soul of man, originates oft in a passive thou settled the subject with thine own conyieldingness of temper and disposition, or in science and convenience? Is it right? Is it An excellent and wise mother gave the the want of resolution to say No. Thousands, agreeable? Then let the world talk-let its following advice with her dying breath: My and many thousands, through this weakness, wits and witlings laugh-much good may it do son, learn how to say No.' Not that she did have been the victims of craft and deceit. then! What carest thou about the world, if mean to counsel her son to be a churl in Thousands, and many thousands, once of fair thine own conscience condemn thee not? speech, or to be stiff-hearted in things indifpromise but now sunk in depravity and Art thou not a free man? Or art thou the ferent and trivial; and much less did she wretchedness, owe their ruin to the act of slave of the fashions and the follies, the opin-counsel him to put his negative upon the calls consenting against their better judgments, to ions and the prejudices, of those around thee of charity and the impulses of humanity; but the enticements of evil companious and famI pity the world-weather man-the misera- her meaning was that, along with gentleness liars. Had they said No, when duty, when ble menial of manvais honte―the veering of manners and benevolence of disposition, honor, when conscience, when every thing weathercock which never points except with he should possess an inflexible firmness of sacred demanded it of them, happy might the popular breeze. His is a servitude more purpose, a quality beyond all price, whether they now have been, the solace of their kinintolerable than that of the galley-slave. He it regards the sons or the daughters of our dred, and ornaments of society. fallen race.

toils in a tread-mill of his own creation, and hugs the chain which galls him.

Sweetness of temper, charitableness of Persons so infirm in purpose, so wanting heart, gentleness of demeanor, together with Such a man, however great his intellectual in resolution, as to be incapable, in almost a strong disposition to act obligingly, and endowments, and however ardent and pure any case, of saying No, are among the most even to be yielding in things indifferent, or of the intentions of his heart-is he, can he be, hapless of human beings; and notwithstanding trifling moment, are amiable and estimable a great man? I answer, No. He lacks the their sweetness of temper, their courteousness traits of the human character; but there must chief requisite for the conception and execu- of demeanor, and whatever else of amiable and be withal, and as the ground-work of the tion of lofty designs and extended plans-the estimable qualities they possess; though they whole, such a firmness of resolution as will fixed and decided purpose of a determined see the right, they pursue the wrong; not so guarantee against yieldings, either imprudent mind. Like the painter who forsook the hap-much out of inclination, as from a frame of-ly or immorally, to solicitations and enticepy inspiration of his own genius, and exposed mind disposed to every solicitation. ments; else one has very little chance, in his productions to the censures and altera- An historian of a former and distant age, passing down the current of life, of escaping tions of the spectators, he not only abandons,|| says of a Frenchman, who ranked as the first the eddies and quicksands that lie in his way. at every suggestion, his own projects of I will add here only one remark, which is, greatness, but also fails to obtain even the that stiff tempers in children are of better temporary applause for which he seeks. omen than generally they are thought to be.

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prince of the blood, that he had a bright and
knowing mind, a graceful sprightliness, good
intentions, complete disinterestedness, and
incredible easiness of manners, but that, with
all these qualities, he acted a most contempti-
ble part for the want of resolution; that he
came into all the factions of his time, because
he wanted power to resist those who drew
him in for their own interest; but that he never
came out of any but with shame, because he
wanted resolution to support himself while he
was in them.

Such tempers, properly managed and rightly directed, are the most likely to form characters of fixed and immoveable resolution; characters the least liable to be bent by circumstances, by threats, or by persuasions from the line of prudence and of duty.

Fashion.

What will the world say? Did Luther ask that question? Had he done so, the earth might still have been groaning under the weight of Papal dominion. Had Columbus been deterred by the scoffs of the sceptical and the name of a visionary, a new world had never opened upon his ocean pathway. Had Howard or Watt regarded the ridicule of those who call themselves the world' the deeds of A LETTER from an American lady in Engthe one had not stood upon the first page of It is owing to the want of resolution, more and says, that during her stay of some the record of benevolence, and the other had than to the want of sound sense, that a great months, she had not seen a lady with earnever disclosed a new empire in the career of many persons have run into imprudences, in-rings! and this is in the center of fashionhuman enterprise. The man whose only rule jurious, and sometimes fatal to their worldly London! of action and standard of conduct is the interests. Numerous instances might be The progress of civilization is slow but opinion of the world, can never be (I repeat) named, but I shall content myself with naming sure; ear-rings have at last followed nosea great man-much less a good man. He is only, one, and that is, rash and hazardous rings to the receptacle of things lost upon governed by a mere concomitant of the con- sugetiship. The pit stands uncovered, and yet earth. Patches and paint an inch thick' sequenses of his action, rather than by their men of good sense, as well as amiable dispo-long since disappeared, and plucking the eyenature or legitimate results. And when this sition, plunge themselves into it, with their brows is now little practiced among the lafluctuating standand fails him-when the re-eyes wide open. Notwithstanding the solemn dies, except by those of the South Sea Isstraint of public sentiment is removed, or the lands. Little by little, and step by step, it is hope of secresy and concealment comes in to discovered that nature can make a tolerable aid the whispers of temptation-he scruples good looking head and face, without having not to plunge himself into the lowest depths the aid of art to furnish up her handy work. of debauchery and crime. This, however, has not yet been established completely as regards the body, but that the time will come, say in a century or two, when that problem will be solved in the af

Blush not now-it is too late,' said a distinguished Italian to his young relative, whom he met issuing from a haunt of vice ;||

warnings in the proverbs of the wise man, and
notwithstanding the examples of the fate of so
many that have gone before them, they make
the hazardous leap; and why? Not from
inclination, or with a willing mind; but because
being solicited, urged, and entreated, they
know not how to say No. If they had learnt,
not only how to pronounce that monosyllable,

The worthy clergyman surveying them for a few seconds made the following reply Truly here is a most surprising case two men have served a master all the days of their life, and can't tell the color of his wig.-Edinburgh Paper.

firmative, is not to be doubted; and curved their substance waste from day to day, as a spines, dyspepsia, liver complaints, and con-consumptive man sees the flesh depart from sumptions will be no longer incurred in the his bones. Of these fashionable, expensive attempt to teach dame nature the proper me-poor, a large number even of those that bethod of shaping the human frame. We are long to the higher classes, are among the poorthe first in the race of civilization, though our est people of the United States. If there were education is not finished, as they say at the weights and scales to weigh human misery by boarding-schools; and by looking at those the ounce and pound, it would be found, that behind us, we may see the gradations through these unhappy people suffer more in mind which we have past. The Indians at the from embarrassments, duns, mortification, north-west flatten the heads of their children offended pride, conscious meanness and to give them a genteel appearance. The pe- wickedness, at the thought that they are spenople of Japan blacken their teeth; and ear-ding the property of their friends, and of hon-with the story of David and Goliah, strongly

From Sedgwick's Public and Private Economy. Fashionable and Expensive Poor. THERE is another large portion of the people whose poverty is worthy of particular attention in a country where few are exempt from

labor.

INFIDEL WIT REPELLED.-A gay young

spark of a deistical turn, traveling in a stage

coach, forced his sentiments upon the company by attempting to ridicule the scriptures, and among other topics made himself merry

Letters Containing Remittances,

the amount of Postage paid.

M. A. M. Concord, O. $1,00; P. M. Brookville, N. Y. $3,00; J. P. H. Quaker Hill, N. Y. $1,00; P. M. Madison, SO. $2,00, E. S. Salisbury Center, N. Y. $1,00; P. M. South Stephentown, N. Y. $5,00; P. M. Fort Hamilton, N. Y. $2,00; G. S. Gerry, N. Y. $0,814; P. M. Athens, Vt. $1,00; J. D. S. North Granville, N. Y. $1,00; P. M. Durham,

rings, and nose-rings, and toe-rings, as well est, hard-working mechanics and others, than urging the impossibility of a youth like David being able to throw a stone with as armlets and anklets are fashionable among many very poor people do in body, for the those styled savages in all countries. Of want of sufficient clothing, fuel, and food. sufficient force to sink into the giant's forehead. On this, with an apparent air of these we are much in advance, as is proved Striving to be something which their povby the gradual abandonment of ear-rings, erty will not allow, they are in a perpetual con- triumph, he appealed to the company, and which will be thorough, now that the fashion-flict in the worst war in the world-a war with in particular to a grave gentleman of the ables in England have given them up. In a themselves. They do not live by any rule of denomination, called Quakers, who sat silent in a corner of the carriage. Indeed, friend,' few years it will be thought as ungenteel to their own, according to what God has given be seen with such pendants, as it would for a them, and what it is, therefore only allowable replied the Quaker, I do not think it all lady to walk up Chestnut street in the finery for them to spend, but they live after a rule improbable, if the Philistine's head was head of an Esquimaux bride-dipped in train oil, set by the fashions of rich people, and thus was as soft as thine.' and clothed in the entrails of a whale; such they see with other people's eyes, whose eyes PRIDE. It has been well said, that the being the method adopted by the fair of that are their ruin. Instead of having their clothes thing most likely to make the angels wonder, tribe to render themselves peculiarly attract- made in the most economical way at their own is to see a proud man. But pride of birth is ive to their lovers-Vade Mecum. houses, by their wives, daughters, and servants, they run to the fashionable milliners and the most ridiculous of all vanities-it is like tailors, at the same time that they are suffer-boasting of the root of the tree, instead of ing for good garments. Their whole ward- the fruit it bears. robe often, setting aside the finery, would hardly pay for an auction; they would be Received at this Office, ending Wednesday last, deducting ashamed to show it, to have it exposed to the day light; to have their under garments seen. Their domestic condition is equally mean. This is not a particular class, as mechanics, or professional men, but it embraces some Some of them in the cities, live in expensive of every class, of the highest to the lowest. houses, and promise to pay large rents, perBy this class is meant the fashionable and haps five hundred dollars a year, and often much more. This rent is often paid by their expensive poor, or those who are made poor mainly by following the fashions, not the good rich relatives, and often not at all. Their parand useful fashions, but the absurd and waste-lors and drawing rooms are full of what they ful ones. By fushionable people generally, is meant that portion of the rich, and those who associate with the rich, that adopt expensive and fashionable modes of living at their tables, in their furniture, dress, equipage, &c. &c. By fashionable and expensive poor here, is intended all those, whether merchants, farm ers, mechanics, day-laborers, &c. that live in the imitation of expensive fashions, without any proper regard to their wages or fortunes. This class, in the United States, embraces a larger proportion of the people than in any other country whatever. In other words, travelers and strangers agree, that the people of the United States are in many particulars, the most wasteful of all civilized people on earth.

Many of those fashionable and expensive poor, instead of having lived upon their incomes, and making the two ends of the year meet, have spent so much more than their in comes, that they have been compelled te see

call splendor, that is finery; if they have valu-
able pictures, it is ten to one that these are put
in the shade to show their fine curtains to bet-
ter advantage.

C. T. Farmington, N. Y. $1.00; P. M. Shelby, N. Y. 85,00;
Mich. $2,00; F. H. Hobart, N. Y. $1.00 P. M. Cherokee
Corner, Ga. 80,50; C. E. T. Chester, N. Y. $1,00; H. C. B.
Moffett's Stores, N. Y. $1,00; E. W. Richmond, Ms. $5,00;
P. M. Enfield, N. H. $2,00; C. B. Norwich, Vt. $1,00.

Penfield, N. Y. $1.00; H. O. G. Portsmouth, O. $5,00; N. S.

SUMMARY.

ACCIDENT.-A boy of about seven years of age, the son

the 4th instant, and was drowned.

of widow Mead, of this city, fell into a cistern on Thursday

WHALE SHIPS.-The Beaver, Gardner, of this city, with 1900 barrels of sperm oil, arrived at New-York, on the 34 instant.-The Helvetia, Cottle, is daily expected. By last accounts from her, she had on board over 2000 barrels.

The Edward, Coffin, of this city, has also arrived with

England, Terry, arrived on the 4th instant, with 2000 barrels right whale and 800 do. sperm oil.

The receipts of the Astor House (the new Hotel in the

CANAJOHARIE AND CATSKILL RAIL ROAD.-The whole

If you go out of this region of splendor and magnificence, the real barrenness of the terri-210 barrels of oil.-The Poughkeepsie whale ship, New tory, in good and useful things, appears. In the kitchen, and other apartments, there is not a decent sufficiency of proper cooking utensils, tubs, kettles, dishes, carpets and other conveniences for health, comfort and cleanliness.-Nothing is so mean, as the real poverty of these people, but their pride.'

The Devil's Wig.

city of New-York) are said to be over $1,400 a day.
of the road is now under contract, and five hundred
laborers are immediately wanted, by the contractors.
this popular journal has made its appearance.

THE ZODIAC.-The first number of the second year of

TEXAS.-Some boys are said to have volunteered for

Texas, having taken for their motto on their caps, under

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the picture of a person in a large tree, Santa Anna treed and Texas freed.'

It is stated in the Richmond Enquirer that after all the legacies of Mr. Madison shall have been paid, there will be a surplus estimated at $100,000 for his widow.

DIED,

At Claverack, on the 1st inst. Rev. William Whittaker, aged 53 years.

At New-York, on the 26th ult. of consumption, Hannah

SOME years ago, as the Rev. Mr. Pringle of
Perth, was taking a walk one summer's after-
noon upon the Inch, two young beaux took it
into their heads to break a jest upon the old
parson. Walking briskly up to him and mak-
ing their bow politely, they asked him if he
would tell them the color of the devil's wig.||Hagadorn of this city.

age; and on the 27th ult. Hannab, infant daughter of
B. wife of Mr. Joseph S. Waring, in the 23d year of her
Joseph S. and Hannah B. Waring, aged 3 months and 18
At South Kingston, R. I. on the 29th June last, Mrs.
Hannah Potter, aged about 66 years, sister of Mr. Jacob

days.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

For the Rural Repository.
True Happiness.

*BESET with ills on every side
Life's rugged paths we tread;'
And scarce in this unfeeling world
Find shelter for our head.

Yet there are joys and pleasures too
Which, sought, we're sure to find;
And there are peaceful, happy hours
For every virtuous mind.

God gave us reason to enjoy

What he in wisdom sends;

He 'twines the ivy round the oak,
An emblem of his ends.

Though all in the same mould were cast,
And all bear his impress;

How much we differ in one point,
Our search for happiness.

Some seek their happiness in wealth;
Some knowledge most esteem;
Some thirst for power and some for fame,
Mere coinage of a dream.

Fleeting and short are all the joys

That spring from earthly things;
From mines of gold, from learning's store,
Or diadems of kings.

But, there's a treasure rich and pure,
And all may it obtain,
Who yield their hearts unto the Lord
And seek it in his name.

Religion dries our falling tears

And bids all sorrows cease;
'Her ways are ways of pleasantness
And all her paths are peace.'

Her flowing streams will ne'er run dry
While there's a soul to save;
Let all who seek true happiness
In her clear waters lave.
May every blessing from on high
On you and yours descend;
And in your heart forever wear
That sure and constant friend.

From the Knickerbocker. The Humming-Bird. INSECT bird of the glowing plume, Fairy king of the world of bloom, That drinkest honey and rich perfume

From thy vassals in bed and bower,Say did the rim of the rainbow fling Those regal hues on thy glowing wing, That gleam as thou hangest quivering

O'er the cup of yon dew-brimmed flower? Rays from all gems of the rock and mine Seem confused in that crest of thine, As, a moment perched on yon trelliced vine, Thou stayst thy rapid flight: Safe support as the proudest tree Would to the foot of the eagle be, Doth yon slender tendril yield to thee, Nor bends with its burden light.

Thou art gone !-thy form I do not see,
But I hear thy soothing minstrelsy,
Sweeter than ever the toiling bee

Out-poured from her 'mellow horn.'
Perchance thou piercest the jasmine's cell,
Or drawest, as from a golden well,
From the amber depths of the lily's bell.
Bright tears of the dewy morn.

While kissing the blossoms of gold and blue,
Dost thou not pilfer each glorious hue,
And deeply thy tiny plumes imbue

With the colors from nature won?
But no,-for Flora when gayest drest,
Hath not a tint in her varied vest,
Like those which flash from thy jeweled breast.
In the blaze of the summer sun.

Lo! thy scented feast is forever spread;
When Northern flowrets are pale and dead,
Thou to a sunnier clime art fled,

Where their beauty forgets to fade.
When roses sleep on the bending stem,
And the diamond dews all their leaves begem,
Thou veilest thy head, and dost dream of them
Till riseth Night's curtain of shade.
Thou hast power from each blossoming thing
Drops of the richest balm to wring,
And thy life, if brief, is a joyous spring,-

A bright lapse 'neath a shadeless sky.
Not so with man-when he thinks to dip
In the rose of Pleasure his glowing lip,
A viper stings as he stoops to sip,

And he turns away to sigh!

The Spirit of Beauty.
WHERE does the Spirit of Beauty dwell?
Oh! said one, if you seek to know,
You must gaze around, above below,
For earth and heaven and ocean tell
Where the Spirit of Beauty loves to dwell,
But see, she comes with the early spring
And winnows the air with her fragrant wing,
Clothing each meadow and hill and tree
In the bloom of her rich embroidery.
Ask her now ere she pass away
Where on earth she delights to stay,
And the Spirit will pause while earth and sky
Ring with the tones of her glad reply-

'Seek for me in the blue hare-bell,
In the pearly depths of the ocean shell,
In the vesper flush of the dying day,
In the first faint glow of the morning ray;
I sleep on the breast of the crimson rose
And hide in the stately lily's snows;

I am found where the crystal dew-drops shine,
No gem so bright in a diamond mine;

I bloom in the flower that decks the grave, And ride on the crest of the dark green wave; I'm up and away o'er earth and o'er sea, Till there is not a spot from my pressure free. 'I am seen in the stars, in the leaf enshrined, And heard in the sigh of the whispering wind; On the rippling breast of the winding stream, In the mellow glow of the moon's mild beam; I fan the air with the bird's light wing, And lurk in the grass of the fairy ring; My tents in the rainbow arch are set, And I breathe in the fragrant violet; Look where you may, you will find me there, For the Spirit of Beauty is every where. 'Now listen to me--for sooth to say, There is one dear spot where I fain would stay. I love all things in earth, sea, sky— But my own best home is a maiden's eye!

Oh! I could linger for ever there,
Nor sigh for another, a sphere more fair;
Lurkng for aye in her cheek's warm smile,
Round her rosy lips with their playful wile;
Roving at will through each golden curl,
That waves o'er a brow like Indian pearl,
And sinking at night to a blissful rest
'Mid the spotless snows of her fragrant breast.
Seek for me there, for I love full well
With the young and the bright-eyed maid to dwell.
'And look for me in the poet's mind,
Where I lie like a radiant gem enshrined;
Touching each thought like the roses glow
That falls on the marble fount below;
Filling the soul with an inward light,
A love for all that is pure and bright,
Till the mind where the rays of my spirit burn
Glows like the lines on a crystal urn;
And a thousand beauties till then unseen
Flash into light on the Fancy's screen,
While thoughts that the many pass heedless by,
Are stored in the heart's deep treasury.
'Know ye now where I love to dwell?
The mind is happy that feels my spell;
Blest in its bright imaginings,

It soars aloft upon faney's wings
O'er earth, in heaven, in sea or sky,
In the poet's song, in the maiden's eye;
To the mind that seeks I am ever nigh!
Look where it may, it will find me there,
For the Spirit of Beauty is every where ?

Melody.

BY W. LEGGETT.

IF yon bright stars which gem the night,
Be each a blissful dwelling sphere,
Where kindred spirits reunite,

Whom death has torn assunder here;
How sweet it were at once to die,

And leave this blighted orb afar!
Mix soul and soul to cleave the sky,

And soar away from star to star!
But oh! how dark, how drear and lone,
Would seem the brightest world of bliss,
If wandering through each radiant one,
We failed to find the loved of this!
If there no more the ties shall twine,

That death's cold hand alone can sever,
Ah! then those stars in mockery shine,
More hateful, as they shine forever!

It cannot be, each hope, each fear,

That lights the eye, or clouds the brow, Proclaims there is a happier sphere

Than this bleak world that holds us now. There is a voice which sorrow hears,

When heaviest weighs life's galling chain 'Tis heaven that whispers- 'dry your tears, The pure in heart shall meet again.'

THE RURAL REPOSITORY,

IS PUBLISHED EVERY OTHER SATURDAY, AT HUDSON, N. Y. BY Wm. B. Stoddard.

It is printed in the Quarto form, and will contain twenty-six numbers of eight pages each, with a title page and index to the volume.

TERMS.-One Dollar per annum in advance, or One Dollar and Fifty Cents, at the expiration of three months from the time of subscribing. Any person, who will remit us Five Dollars, free of postage, shall receive siz copies, and any person, who will remit us Ten Dollars, free of postage, shall receive twelve copies, and one copy of either of the previous volumes. No subscriptions received for less than one year. All the back numbers furnished to new subscribers. All orders and Communications must be post paie, to receive attention.

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DEVOTED TO POLITE LITERATURE, SUCH AS MORAL AND SENTIMENTAL TALES, ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELING SKETCHES, AMUSING MISCELLANY, HUMOROUS AND HISTORICAL ANECDOTES, SUMMARY, POETRY, &c.

VOL. XIII.-[IV. NEW SERIES.]

SELECT TALES.

From the Saturday Courier.
PRIZE TALE.
Chase Loring.

A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION.

BY MISS LESLIE.

This is my own, my native land.' 'WHAT we are now doing, will one day be history was the prophetic exclamation of Buonaparte, as he led his soldiers to victory across the bridge of Arcole. Not such were the anticipations of those firm and daring spirits, that planned and effected the destruction of the cargoes of the tea ships, that came into the ports of Boston towards the close of the year 1773, and whose appearance was announced by hand bills, beginning with these quaint, but energetic words-The worst of plagues, the detested tea, has now arrived in our harbor!'

HUDSON, N. Y. SATURDAY, AUGUST 27, 1836.

NO. 6.

boarders-though as she truly said, rather for company than for profit; such being the liberality of the good old lady that her profits at the end of the year, might always have been summed up by a single figure.

survive-but from them, we believe that little Her husband had left enough to support her
information is now to be obtained, except of comfortably, but she preferred to take a few
the chief scene itself. Of the previous pre-
paration they seem to know almost nothing.
In the hope of more fully awakening to this
subject, the attention of some gifted writer of
that noble city, on whose fanes first shone the
dayspring of Atlantic literature, in whose
halls the voice of freedom first dared to lift
itself, the author of the following pages, (an
American, though not a Bostonian,) has
ventured to interweave with a simple and un-
pretending story, a few facts that she has
collected for the purpose.

Near the center of Boston, and in the neighborhood of Pemberton Hill, a house is still standing, which seems to have been designed with the express object of demonstrating in the plainest and most practical manner. the mathematical figure called a trianglethe part that fronts the street, denoting the How little did the instigators and leaders of base, and the back illustrating the apex. The this singular enterprize, imagine, that on this boards of the floors are broad at one end, and memorable night, they were striking off the first narrow at the other, all tending to a point link in the chain that had hitherto bound them at the fire-places. The fire-places have trianto the dominion of England, and eliciting the gular hearths-and in a similar manner the spark that would eventually light the torch of beams of the ceilings radiate from the chimfreedom throughout the world. Surely, for nies. The house, which though small, is of them no coming events cast their shadows three stories, contains a sitting-room or parlor before' or they would never (as is said) below, two chambers and an attic above, and have reciprocally bound themselves by the a kitchen built back in the yard. It is not a solemnity of an oath, to a perpetual conceal-corner house, and its peculiar architecture ment of names, that, at no distant period, was the whim of its first proprietor, a respectathey might have disclosed with triumphant ble mechanic named Melchisedeck Spraggins, exultation: names that their compatriots who having made money enough to enable would have delighted to honor-names that their children would have been proud to bear. We must ever regret that the authors of this extraordinary drama have so conscientiously persisted in carrying to the grave the secret of their identity-the grave, which, most probably, has closed over each and all of them. We had hoped that some one of this patriot band, would have bequeathed to posterity a written memorial, disclosing the private history of an event, at once So public, and so mysterious. Of those who were merely actors or spectators on the night of the 16th of December, some few yet

himself to erect a mansion for his own residence, justly conceived that he had a right to plan it according to his own notion-and for this, or others of his notions, he never considered himself accountable to any one, his wife especially.

At the period from which we date the commencement of our story, the aforesaid triangular house was in possesion of the widow of the aforesaid Melchsedeck-a kind hearted and simple minded woman, who was called Aunt Rhoda by the whole neighborhood; and, who having no children of her own, would willingly have been aunt to all Boston.

One of her inmates, a youth named Chase Loring, was only a sort of boarder. He was nephew to her late husband, and had just entered his eighteenth year. As Aunt Rhoda would accept of no regular stipend for his accommodations, his father, who had a farm about fifteen miles from Boston, took care that he should be gratified by the frequent arrival of barrels of Indian meal, pork, apples, cider, crocks of butter, and other productions of his homestead. Chase Loring was the youngest of a numerous family, and having the true Yankee genius for wood work, he had come to town for the purpose of learning the trade with a celebrated carpenter in Essex street.

Aunt Rhoda's only real boarder was Tudor Haviland, whose age did not exceed Chase Loring's. His father kept a store far in the interior of the province, but as Tudor was what is called a bookish young man, he had a great desire to be a bookseller. Accordingly, he had been placed with Henry Knox, whose shop in Cornhill was noted for the handsome manner in which it was fitted up, and the handsome books it contained. It was also, frequented by the most distinguished people of Boston.

Annis Chadwick, the youngest of Aunt Rhoda's family, and her orphan niece, was a very pretty blue eyed, blooming girl, now in her sixteenth year. Having been adopted by the old lady in early childhood, she had become well grounded in practical housewifery, and was already a clever seamstress. Tudor Haviland, who always gladly availed himself of the privilege of bringing home, in the evening, a book from Mr. Knox's store, had taken some pains to cultivate her natural fonduess for reading; though the literature of that period offered but little that would be considered interesting or amusing by most young girls of the present time.

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