ing that this was indeed his Ophe lia. Saturday Evening. FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. Upon the recovery of Edwin he begged to be conducted to the a- I HAVE frequently heard would-be partment where lay the now dying moralizers, and sometimes even taOphelia on his entering, she turn-lented writers, quoting the sentied her heavy eyes towards him, and uttered a faint groan. He approached and took her thin hand, which hung motionless on the pillow, gazed for a moment upon her deathlike features, and then burst into a flood of tears. ments of other authors to prove their own unhallowed doctrine, that real and disinterested friendship cannot exist in the human breast, because forsooth they themselves are incapable of feeling its holy influ ence. And yet these solemn sermonizers are read, and many readers are led to believe that mankind, and even themselves are much worse than they really are. Have not grave and reverend writers in all ages, been declaiming against the " degeneracy of the age" in which they lived, as if it was worse than any that preceded it? And is not the very reverse of this the fact? Have not the dissemination "Ah, Edwin," she said, "you have come in time to see me dienow I shall go in peace. Where is my mother?-have you seen her? Here-give her this"-reaching out her hand on which rested a ring and with a firm voice exclaimed, of religion, and the progress of ciEdwin, we must now separate vilization improved the mind of forever I feel that I am dying-man in each successive age, and Oh, remember me-farewell." rendered it less subject to violent and malignant passions? Are not crimes less frequent, and is not vice more ashamed of displaying its guilty front? Let the present state of society be compared with any of the former times, and every unbiassed mind will yield an affirmative and ready answer. These were her last words. She sunk into the arms of death, like an infant into a quiet sleep. Edwin still held her hand, and for the last time kissed her beauteous lips; they were now cold and pale. He rushed from the scene of death, but his senses were gone forever. They bore him to his room, where Without friendship and without in a few hours he was found a love, which is but a more refined breathless corpse! A scrap of pa- degree of friendship, this world per was pinned to the table with a would be indeed a wilderness of bloody knife, on which was written thorns; existence would indeed be directions for conveying their re- miserable; and death would be mains to his native place. His last hailed as a kind deliverer from a request was complied with, and he tedious and loathsome prison. But lies buried by the side of his belov- it is friendship and love that sweeted Ophelia. A small white stone en the draught of life, and strew now marks the spot where rest in its paths with flowers. I know, I peace these two victims of disap-feel, that friendship is not all pointed love. R. J. The leaves of the wilderness, as they float along on the wind, are but the dissevered grey hairs of a dying year. a name,' nor love an empty sound ;' sometimes cross us, there are moand although cares and vexations ments, there are hours, when the calm delights of friendship and the endearing ties of love, can kindle in the bosom of sensibility a flame of heavenly joy. A BACHELOR'S RESOLU TIONS. bows were in a particular situation. His boots had always appeared stu diously unclean, and he really de lighted to wear his cravat a-wry. But Bob was now an altered man. He was arrayed in a costly suit, which silently spoke the tailor's praise; and one of Young's admired hats sat triumphantly upon his head, with a gentle and scarcely-tobe-perceived inclination over the left eye; his white cravat exactly folded about his neck, was curiously twisted into a knot of mathematical precision; and a brilliant red "MARRIAGE," said my friend Bob, with a sneer upon his lip which would have done honor to his Satanic majesty himself—" Marriage! It is the trap for fools, and I'll none of it. Marry indeed! I would as soon leap off the cataract of Niagara, to catch the rainbow beneath! I'm for single independence, and hold that man little better than a simpleton-breast-pin, in the shape of a human who has not the sense to despise the snares of false, false woman!" "Why, Bob," exclaimed I," are you resolved never to marry?" "Yes, that I am: I don't mean to have my stairs strewed with old shoes, and cast off hats. I wont be tormented with parrots, cats, and boxes, nor allow myself to be disturbed by bad servants and squalling children-not I. Let the women flirt about to entrapthe unwary young men; let them squeeze their curls, work their lace, parade their feathers and flounce their frocks; they 'waste their sweetness on the desert air.' It may do for common men, but not for me." "Well, good bye, Bob," said I. He muttered "good bye," and we parted. It was not long afterwards, as I was sauntering down an unfrequented street, I met my friend stepping over every impediment with a nice caution which astonished me. I was accustomed to consider him as a wild, reckless fellow, who paid no more regard to the world, than the world to him. I never discovered the slightest degree of foppishness in his character, but censured him for an unseemly carelessness in his dress. He would keep an old hat merely because it was old, and he never laid aside his coat till the el heart, shone sparkling on plaited ruffles, most exquisitely clean. Silk stockings and morocco pumps gave grace to his handsome feet, and he shook rich fragrance from a kerchief white as the driven snow. I was amazed, and hailed him with looks and gestures expressive of astonishment. "Why, Bob!"-He feigned not to hear, and was quickening his pace; but I did not intend that he should so easily escape. "Why, Bob!" I repeated, "in the name of all that's wonderful, where are you agoing, and what are you about to do?" With a blush, which his well ap plied handkerchief could not whol ly conceal-he replied: "Oh-only walking for air and exercise--that's all." "Oh—that's all, is it? I woDder you do not choose a busier scene for your rambles; you certainly need not be ashamed of your dress." Bob blushed rosy red again, and stammered forth a joke. "Yes, I have turned dandy, just to humour the world-and”— "And what?" inquired I. He hesitated a moment and bit his lips, but suddenly assuming his natural frankness of demeanor, ad dressed me as follows: "Why, my dear fellow, I believe there is no use of concealing it from you any longer; so I might as well confess it at once." "Confess!-what?" Why, that I am g-g-g-going"-ble, as the stream of Plumb isl"Why, what is the matter? going where ?" [ted waters of the Merrimac and the Parker flowed together into the common reservoir at Ipswich;-an assertion indeed seeming most proba "To be"-with increasing confusion "To be-what?" FOR THE BOWER OF TASTE. A LEGEND OF NEWBURY- Ask of the Afric-who hath forg'd his chain? and river is continually more and more filling with sand, and as it were growing from the bottom, to join the island to its mother land. About this time, after a strong and stormy wind had blown from the north for three or four days, it turned suddenly from this point, and breathed smoothly from the southwest. It was in August, at midday, and at low water, when a canoe came from the Merrimac, to the division stream between the island and the main land—and proceeded swiftly down the current, till it came opposite to the mouth of the ParI NEED not tell many of my read- ker-and then it was stationary. ers that there is an island about two The voyagers were two chilor three miles below the town of dren of the forest-with each a Newburyport in Massachusetts, call-skin thrown over the shoulders, and ed Plumb island-a place of general resort to the good people round, in the months of August and September; when fifty or sixty carriages may be seen toiling through the heaps of sand with which it is covered. The island itself extends about north and south, for a distance of nine miles, in width about half a mile. At the northern extremity runs the channel of the Merrimac, and the bar is then found ―at the southern extremity is Ipswich bar, where Plumb island river, which is nearly a narrow strait, now, runs into the broad Atlantic, which stretches out on the easterly side of the island. About three miles from the outlet of Plumb island river into the Merrimac, is the mouth of the Parker river, opening into the strait, and running with it into the ocean, at Ipswich. girded round the body with a belt of wampum, closely, and falling below to the knees; which with a pair of moccasins, completed their dress. One was a youth, and the other a maiden, either of whom would have done honour even to a civilized people : there was a native dignity that belonged to the true red man, that no other people on earth possessed-a nobleness which not a red man from the Mississippi to the Atlantic now owns-but from the same river to the Pacific-that is, wherever sophisticated man has not trodden-it is found in its original brightness; for wherever it has trodden, no Indian has survived-nono more than the slavish negro of the south has survived as the free Æthiop in the days of Syphax and of Juba. The maiden--whose eyes filled with beaming affection About one hundred years ago (if for the youth, her fellow-voyager— I recollect aright) the Indians as-by her watchfulness of his smile, sert that there was no outlet where showed signs of her devoted now the Merrimac opens into the love. ocean-but then all the congrega- | As they floated along the current which was yet going outward-they of the stream, as if in search of laid aside their paddles, and grasped their weapons--she a fishing line of the fibres of a bear's sinews-he his bow and arrows pointed with bone and flint-at this time of the year the marsh and the sands are covered with birds even now-tho' many of these have fled before us, as have the former possessors-and then every arrow that he threw among them, bore death at its point, nor frightened the others from their places. He had shot all his arrows, and obtained for them as many birds. After he had pushed ashore his canoe, and gathered into it his birds and arrows, he plied again into the stream, and on a sudden dropt his head over the side of the canoe, and listened eagerly for a moment. When he raised his head again, you would have seen no change of countenance; while he addressed the maiden who was with him calmly as before-just in the same tone: "Nasiti, daughter of the dove, dost thou hear?" "No," said she," but what dost thou hear?" and looked up at him with terror. "My ears are quick to hear-and the sound of an enemy's paddle is in them, and they approach-go to the shore." They went in to the shore, and drew up the canoe among the tall reeds, and sat down among them. Assaius (for so was the youth named) drew from the birds the bloody arrows, and deposited them in his quiver-he tightened the string of his bow, and fitted an arrow to it. Nasiti looked anxiously at these preparations-but when she gazed wishfully in his face, and would have spoken, he put his finger upon his lips, and her mouth was closed. A quarter of an hour was passed when a large canoe loaded with savages shot out from the Parker, and moved swiftly to various parts some one. They rowed repeatedly by the place where the two wee concealed, and made no discovery. The two were in the bed of a small creek, which was left dry at low water, and being deeply covered by the reeds, they could not be seen by persons who were going past in a canoe. After the canoe had gone by to some distance, the tide began to come in with great vehemence ; their canoe floated almost immedi ately, and they were obliged to pa dle themselves out, and to labour fir their life. When they were seen by the others as they came out, a koud shout was raised, and hot pursuit was given; for the space of a mile and a half, the two kept themselves in advance of their pursuers; but then they found that they must soon be overtaken. Just at this point a long humpsand ran out across the stream, and opposed itself to the current; and as the hindmost boat reached this point, Assaius dropped his paddle, seized his bow, and shot an arrow directly through the breast of one of those who were paddling. The man dropped heavily into the water-his paddle flew from his hand-and the boat struck upon the sands. It was but the work of a moment with Assaius to regun his paddle; and he urged his beat onward with his whole strengh and again he had the advantage over them. When he reached the Merrime, his foes exerted their whole strengt to thrust themselves above him, and prevent him from going up the river to the encampment of his tribe; and by the utmost exertions on their part,-some of them even paddling the water with their hands,—they succeeded. It was then for the first time that the storm from the northeast, which had prevailed for several days, had dashed over its barriers-and where now is the mouth of the Merrimac relative to this subject, which although they may be erroneous, are the result of observation, and a wish to learn the truth. had formed an outlet which the river, swelling with the rains that fell, had enlarged. This freshet had so increased, that even while the tide I was rising, the fresh water on the Do we go forth into the world surface was running outward swift- for the purpose of surveying the ly; and Assaius, when he found sublime and beautiful of Nature, of himself shut out of a return, aimed investigating her mysteries, and the boat's head towards the river's thereby rendering ourselves more mouth, and was in a few moments fully sensible of the glory of Deity? on the pathless ocean-the first na- No: It is to gaze upon the monutive that ever crossed the bar at ments of art, to witness the glory, Newburyport. But when he turn-or the decay, of the proud works of ed his head, he found that his foes man? Do we seek society in order gained upon him and that but a few to become more thoroughly ac. moments would pass, ere he and quainted with the human character she whom he loved would be either in its primitive state? No. Man slaves or corpses. Daughter of passes before us in the garb of masthe dove," said he, "Lo, our foes querade, clothed in the robes of come on, even now are they here." power, and ambition-wrapt within "Son of the bright eagle," was himself-with a mind, and characher reply, "why wait we for death ter, as inaccessible to the world, as at the hands of an enemy! Let us is the hoarded gold of the miser. do for ourselves this last deed!" and Does this 'finish' of our education she stood erect in her canoe. As- consist in a deep and secret commusaius clasped her in his arms, and nion with ourselves, which may enas a huge wave came whitening on able us to conquer our weakness, to their bark, he dropped one tear improve our faculties, or cultivate upon her, and sprang with her into our virtues? No. We are oftener the bows of the canoe. She bore more industriously employed in de up against the water for an instant, tecting the follies of others, in enwhen suddenly a huge wave struck vying or depreciating their talents, upon her, and engulphed the lovers or endeavouring to build the superin the boundless ocean forever. structure of our own fame upon the ruins of theirs. A. R. FOR THE BOWER OF TASTE. ESSAY. HE IS GONE TO EUROPE TO FINISH It has been argued that a free intercourse with the world has a tendency to enlarge the mind, and liberalize the feelings, yet so much is dependant upon our own propensities to good, or evil, that no certain inference can be drawn from casual AFTER passing through the usual routine of those studies which constitute a useful, and polite educa-observation. The same soil that tion, it is natural for us to enquire gives birth to the flower, also nourwhat further is necessary to effect ishes the weed; it therefore re-. its final completion, in order to mains with us to cultivate the one, give us a claim to what is termed, and exterminate the other. There "a finished education," as also to is no situation in life from which we learn the nature of these pursuits, may not derive a useful lesson; and and studies which are to confer up- on the other hand, no society from on us this important honour. Lim- which we may not extract bad exited as my observations have been, ample. It must of course follow, still I have formed some conclusions that a knowledge of the world may VOL. 1. 80 |