doubtless, in its discussion, bear the stamp etical, and the article on female education of his original mind. This literary Proteus has also written another romance, entitled St. Valentine's day, or the fair maid of Perth, which is designed to form a second series of the Chronicles of the Canongate. We understand that his next work is to be an in vestigation of witchcraft! [the annals of 'Naumkeag' might furnish some striking illustrations of this subject.] The Providence papers announce that a volume of poems is about to be published in that town, by Mrs. Elizabeth Jones, a lady of an exemplary character, and a highly cultivated mind, but who, like many other children of song,' has drank deeply of the cup of poverty and sorrow. We understand that want of funds has delayed this work, which, if printed, would probably produce that profit which her writings merit. Some of the critical guardians of literature have been rather severe upon our correspondent M. with respect to Montgomery's poem, but as we have literary sins enough of our own to answer for, we shall leave M. to defend himself. We do not remember ever to have seen the poem in question before, but, [as we formerly said] it strongly reminded us of [not Montgomery's, sir, but] ‹ Burns' mountain daisy,' beginning thus, 'Wee, modest crimson tipped flower." In comparing these poems the reader will perceive a striking similarity between them, although it does not amount to actual plagiarism. is written in an elevated and pure style, and from the importance of the subject, it will justify an attentive perusal. We hope that the editor will often gratify the lovers of song with the effusion of his own muse. Doct. Howe has prepared for the press a historical sketch of the Greek revolution; it is said to be written in a bold and spirited style. At this period, when public sympathy is so strongly excited in the cause of that oppressed nation, a work of this kind will be read with interest. TREMONT THEATRE. The popular melo drama of the Lady of the Lake continues to attract the admiration of the public. It was performed on Wednesday night, for the eighth time, together with the Agreeable Surprise, and Sylvester Daggerwood, for the benefit of Mr. Wallack. The public prints have already done justice to the talents of this gentleman in the character of Roderic Dhu. As a good general actor, he is a high acquisition to a theatrical corps; his imitations of Kean and Cooper were excellent. On Thursday evening was performed, for the benefit of the Greeks, the Lady of the Lake, and Tom Thumb. We are happy to learn that Mr. Cooper is engaged at this theatre. He made his first appearance on Friday night, in the character of Damon; that of Pythias was sustained by Mr. Wallack. This was indeed a treat, and drew, as was expected a full and fashionable house. To Correspondents.—We thank M., E. P. and Y. Z. for their favors, and soWe have had the pleasure of receiving licit their continuance. BOETHE is althe New England Weekly Review, pub-ways acceptable. We regret having mis lished at Hartford, Con. and edited by George D. Prentice, Esq. It would be superfluous to express our critical opinions on this paper, and shall therefore only observe that we are pleased with its character, and predict for it a successful reign. 'Lines to a lady' are highly po laid the MS. of Rosalia. The beautiful lines of T. I. are received and will appear next week. THE BOWER OF TASTE, edited by MRS. KATHARINE A. WARE, is published every Saturday by SAMUEL G. ANDREWS, No. 30, Market Street, Boston. Terms $2,50 in advance, $8 at the expiration of six months. When the heart is with gloom and dejection oppress'd, When anxiety's thorns strew the couch of our rest, When disease robs the cheek of that roseate dye, How soft is the hand of a friend. When misfortunes ensue, and the world is unkind, By treachery, are to oblivion consign'd, When envy and pride are against us combined How prized are the smiles of a friend. When death has deprived us of those we held dear, "Tis sweet to confide in a bosom sincere, Those sorrows, that waken kind sympathy's tear, In the beaming eye of a friend. But ev'n should prosperity brighten each scene (Nor sickness, nor sorrow nor care intervene,) Should our prospects of life be all bright and serene, AUGUSTA. TO THE MOON. I view'd thee in a calm clear sky, So placidly that not a frown Is on thy face, no wish to scan The foul dark deeds, the withering pain And strife among the human race. I would that I might dwell with thee From mortal pains and sorrows free. Perhaps another race like us, Who 'gainst their God did ne'er rebel, Nor feel that stern and bitter curse, That on the race of Adam fell. But now a blight is on thy brow, Dark earthly mists are o'er thee spread→→ Oh! earth has many a shade like this- Corrodes and blots the fairest name. But now thy rays are pure again, THE LAST TEAR. E. B. She had done weeping, but her eyelash yet Flashed from her eye! and lit the vestal's cheek Vol. I. With youthful fancy, or with matron taste, 'We cull the meadow, and explore the waste,'-Paine. BOSTON, SATURDAY, APRIL 5, 1828. No. 14. THE CONTRAST. THERE are few sweeter pictures | became of age he married her, and in human life, than the union of I was at the wedding. This certwo lovers; there are few more distressing than their separation. I was witness to a scene of the former description some years ago, in the capacity of a bridesman; and, not long after, to one of the latter, in quality of a mourner. There was a contrast between these situations so powerfully impressive, that although I had no immediate interest either in the bridal or the burial, I seldom pass an hour in solitude without an involuntary recurrence to what passed at them: I seem but this moment to have quitted the altar-I almost feel the fresh earth of the grave giving way under my feet. Henry Morel was the dearest friend I have ever known. An attachment had subsisted between him and a very lovely girl since they had been children; when he VOL. I. emony, under almost any circum- 27 be buried. There was no other covering, and as I brought to my recollection her appearance on the day of her marriage, she seemed was a contention between joy and modesty and hope and fear in her looks; but it was not difficult to perceive that in her breast happiness was predominant. The bri-in nothing altered but that she dal assembly were all life and gai- was now still and pale. 'God of ety: the marriage feast was an heaven! if she only slept!' said I, uninterupted scene of mirth and touching the lilly hand that lay festivity. Joy was triumphant beside her. A chill shot up through for his hour. my arm, and froze the very blood next my heart. My involuntary exclamation roused Henry from his torpor; he gazed at me for some time, then, pointed to the body, as if to inform me of what was already too plain. Eveline About a fortnight after, I received a pressing letter from my friend to go down to his seat in the country, where he was at present with his young bride. The letter was filled with descriptions of his felicity, and with praises of is dead,' said he, she is dead.' his dear Eveline; her beauty, her I made no remark; consolation was amiability, her accomplishments; premature; indeed I was unable to she was all that was good and fair afford it, for my heart was flowand gracious; he was happier, (to ing through my eyes. He rose, use his own expression) than the came close to me, and leaning on happiest man on earth and he be- my shoulder, asked, in a tone of sought me to come down and familiar but revolting jocularity, witness his beatitude.' It was if I was come to congratulate impossible to resist an invitation him?' Then without waiting for which promised so much pleasure. an answer, he continued in the Upon my arrival at the manor- same strain of bitter irony, There house, I was shewn into a library, is my felicity! there is my beatiwhere the chaplain received me. tude! have I not reason to be 'If you wish to see Mr. Morel, he happy? beauty and grace and is in that apartment,' said the cler-goodness in my possession! am I gyman, pointing to an open door. not an enviable man?' He laughI entered, and found myself in a ed wildly. 'Ay,' continued he, darkened bed-chamber. Oh! one addressing the insensible figure, moment told me all! There was a 'there you lie in your wedding marble figure stretched upon the garments! with your crystal cheek bed; a heavy and overpowering and your smiling lip, fresh from swell of herbs and flowers filled the marriage hall! Look at her the room; every thing was cloth- slender ancies, and her little feet, ed in deadly white. My friend just as she had lain down after the sat at the bed-side, with his hands dance! and her arms there so white locked, and his eyes fixed upon and long! and her fair bosom, with the statue. I approached, but the curls playing about her snowy he took no notice of me. 'Poor neck! Eveline, dear Eveline have Eveline!' said I, bending over her, you indeed forsaken me? Oh God! 'thou wert a short lived flower! Oh God! that this could be all a A smile seemed to gather on the dream! No, no-it is no dreamlips of the girl as I said these no dream.' Here he became again words, a smile between regret and insensible, and relapsed into his resignation. She was in her wed- former attitude, his eyes fixed on ding dress, in which, as I after- the bed and his hands clenched wards learned, she had desired to in inexpressible despair. ་ |