ins, is truly astonishing! The natives' can
give little or no account of the original de-
sign of the buildings. On descending into
the vault of the magazines, in which are re-
cesses for the storage of ammunition, &c.
A young lady remarked that she had no doubt
but this was the repository of the dead, and
these were their tombs. "Oh! no marm!
they a'nt though," said a man (who professed
to have resided there from his birth), "they
say this was a bake-house! and thein are things
are ovens !" But, baking or roasting, tout le
meme chose-The man was half right. No
doubt but they realized both, to their heart's
content, at Ticonderoga, on the first attack

of the Yankees. *

BURLINGTON,

MANY may be of opinion, that when the bloom
of Spring, and the joys of Summer, have de-
parted, our minds naturally partake of the
gloom that succeeds those delightful seasons;
and that our reminiscences and presentations Is the most delightful village in Vermont.
of those glowing scenes which are past, though The society, though small, boasts many tal-
still vivid in our own imaginations, seem, at ented individuals, whose learning and grace-
this period of vernal decay, as incongruous as ful manners would do honour to any circle.
roses would be in a beaver. This is partially They are remarkable for their politeness to
true; yet can we, or ought we to forget those strangers, and there are few who visit this
tew hours of happiness which it may have place without receiving such attentions as
been our lot to have enjoyed in life, even will induce them to remember it with pleas-
though the shows of winter should be falling ure. Remote from the gay metropolis, their
in our paths? Surely not. In youth, we moral and social resources are within them-
feel almost as much pleasure in the anticipa-selves, and they sedulously cultivate at home
tion of a blessing as in its fruition. Hope, what they have most admired abroad. Their
indeed, is a delightful companion, when un-
taste for literature is probably owing to the
attended by anxiety. As we progress in University which is there established.
years, retrospection has its pleasures. We
brood over the treasures of memory, with a
consciousness that nothing can deprive us of
this secret source of happiness. Even our
present miseries often serve to heighten the
value of those blessings we have enjoyed.

WHITEHALL.

A visit to this place can be only interesting to such as are desirous of viewing those seenes in its vicinity, where our republican spirits asserted their independence.

It is a source of pride, as well as pleasure, to every American, to see so many splendid edifices as may be met with in every part of our country, devoted to public learning. This is one of the strongest proofs that America can produce, that she has taken an important stand among the nations of the earth.

We learn that William Leggett, Esq. au-
thor of Leisure Hours at Sea, as also of the
Prize Address, written for the opening of the
Bowery Theatre, New-York, is about to pub-

aware.

ed upon

This village, which is situated in a hol-lish a weekly paper entitled The Critic. Of low, possesses little or no rural beauty, and this gentleman's talents as a poet, and qualino efforts as yet have been made to render it fications as an editor, the public are already pleasant in other respects. The canal imHe is also writing a Tragedy foundprovements, however, are worthy of notice; Roman history. The celebrated Aas also the apparent industry of its inhabitants.merican actor, Mr. Forrest, is to personate the Near this place may still be seen the rem- hero of the play, on its first presentation to the nants of the British shipping, commemora- public. tive of the victory of Cominodore M'Donough on Lake Champlain; and as we advance towards Burlington, the ruins of Ticonderoga, Crown-Point, &c. are well worth the attention of the American traveller, as illustrative of many important events connected with our history.

The ignorance of some of the people who have always lived in the vicinity of these ru

If you have a friend whom you esteem and wish to retain, resent not too quickly truths which may have been imparted in moments of confidence, perhaps for your own benefit. Those who are unreserved and candid in their communications are more valuable as friends, than such as have the gift of suiting their faces to all occasions.

standing upon a chair, only one leg of which rested upon the rope, were the most astonish

Those who would give advice, should first carefully ascertain whether they are qualified to do so; and next, whether it will be accepting exhibitions of the art of balancing that able; else, what they may mean as a kindness, may be interpreted as impertinence.

Said a lady to a philosopher: "By telling people so plainly of their faults, you will lose all your friends." "I shall retain all my friends, you mean," replied he," those who are wise, will thank me. Fools will of course be offended. These I would gladly be rid of."

BABY CRITICISM.

Papa," ,” cried a child of four years old, "look up at that moon-it has got no tail!" "Why, boy," replied the father." do you take the moon for a monkey ?-it has no tail." "Then the minister that made my hymn, is a naughty man, and tells a story! He said

"When the evening shades prevail, "The moon takes up her wondrous tale !! but I wont say it again, 'cause the moon ha'nt got no tail!"

[Communicated.]

Why is a gentleman who makes a handsome bow, like this paper? Do you give it up? Because he is a Bow-er of Taste!

TREMONT THEATRE.

we ever saw. It is impossible to describe satisfactorily the performances of this man. He first dances in a dark costume, which changes quickly as a flash of lightning to a superb dress of white and silver! The whole appears like the effect of magic.

elors Journal have crowed most loudly on Although the successire editors of the Bachtheir respective posts, against female indoence,' still, we of the "Bower," occasionally obtain a feather wherewith to grace ourselves, and often succeed in hooking some of their best fry, (as may he seen) even without a bit, A. R. is welcome to deposit his lore of past ages in our columns.

ICHABOD tells a round story about his "GHOST."

The poetry of NILE, flowing through the "recess" of our " Bower," always renovates its bloom.

We thank HONORIA for her favour, and regret that ROSALIA, and the fair Essayist came too late.

The "Rise of Genius," by R. J. will appear next week.

It is an act of dishonour to assume the sig nature of another person; and ought always when detected, to be exposed. A writer from Hardwick will please to explain to us way he has thought proper to do so. Our old currespondent ROMONT suffers under a similar misery. Some school-boy has succeeded in passing off his nonsense under that name, which has induced its first owner to relinquish it. Another literary sin, too often practised, is, to send to the press, poetry, &c. as original, which has already been published. It is impossible for us to keep the run of all the genspaper rhymes in the country-although we have in some instances detected this fraud be

MARRIED.

The very spirit of successful enterprise seems to preside over the Tremont stage. In addition to the solid fare of Shakspeare, we have the lighter entertainments of comedy, joined with the most astonishing exhibitions of art and physical power, that ever were witnessed in this country. Never, perhaps, upon an American stage were greater or more various talents congregated, than in the presentation of Othello, on Monday evening. We could with pleasure, dwell upon the perfections of Messrs. Hamblin. Booth, and Ar-fore it was loo late. cher, in their respective characters, had they not already been discussed by abler pens. Miss Placide, as the faithful and devoted friend of Desdemona, was admirable. Mrs Cowell is a graceful woman; yet we have seen her when she appeared more interesting than as the bride of Othello. On Tuesday night, Mr. Caldwell personated the elegant West Indian, with a grace and diguity which we never saw equalled, in that character. His fine person and rich harmonious voice exactly qualify him for such parts. We cannot forbear noticing here the splendid performances of Herr Cline, on the tight rope, upon which he dances with more apparent ease, than upon the floor also, sitting and

In Palmer, on the 6th inst by the Rev. Mr. Wam Mr. Edwin Norcross, of Mouson, to Miss Sal Ferrell, of P.

In Monson, on the 7th, by the Rev. AliE Mr. Jonathan R. Flynt, merehact, to Miss NCA Ely, daughter of the Rev. Alfred Ely, all of Hon

son.

In Springfield, Mr. Daniel D. Moody, of Monta sa, to Miss Sarah Perkins, of SpringfielĹ

THE BOWER OF TASTE, edited by Mas Ka
RINE A. WARE, is published by Derrow and
WENTWORTH, Nos. 1 and 4 FichasanaPAT,
Boston-Who are authorised to treano, ali

business relative to the printing and cu
tion of this Work.

All literary communications should be, as fame
erly, directed to the Editor.
All Letters
must be post-paid.

Bright Cherub! I could even weep that thou,
So sweet a scion from fair Nature's tree,
Shouldst dim the sunny radiance of that brow,
The lustre of thy spirit's purity;

School the free pulse that heaves thy guileless heart,
And strive to mimic all but what thou art!

The upturn'd glance of thy cerulean eye,
In thrilling language, speaks an ardent soul!
The flash of genius-passion's energy-

And virtue's dawn-all these to the control
Of art must yield-Child! thou must learn to sigh,
E'en when thou'rt blest-smile, amid misery!

This is thy fate-but yet so young art thou-
So pure, aud beauteous! one might wish for thee,
A happier destiny !-Would thy fair brow,

From art and all her dark disguises free,
Might ne'er be wreath'd but by those fadeless flowers,
Which learning twines in virtue's sacred bowers!

AUGUSTA.

THOUGHTS IN SLEEP.

How I did dream, last evening, when I slept!
Cleone, dear girl, I'll tell thee. Come to me:
Put now thy hand upon my brow-'tis cold;
Yet the red waves of life come thronging back,
Back-swift-nay, smile again, once more, fair one!
Last night, when breathing death had fallen on me,
'I had a dream.' Cleone, you was unkind,
Nay, even cruel to me; and I griev'd,

And went and dream'd about it. Thus I thought:

'Twas in my sleep. I dream'd I saw thee bent
In chastened love above me, while I slept;
And thought thy hand fell gently on my head,
As it would call the grace of heaven upon me.
Then I awoke the brilliant sun burn'd high,
And breath'd his gold-thread thro' the waving trees,
Down to my couch. The voiceful world went on,
Heedless of my great joy, that I was freed
From error's airy chains. I look'd on thee,
And laugh'd with very gladness, when I saw
The wavy bloom upon thy either cheek,

And smiles within those eyes. I'll not be caught
Dreaming such lies again-would you, Cleone?

NILE.

VOL. I.

"With youthful fancy, or with matron taste,
"We cull the meadow, or explore the waste,"-PAINE.
The brightest flowers, the purest gems, to save
From the dark bosom of oblivion's wave.

BOSTON.....SATURDAY.....OCT. 25, 1828.

ORIGINAL SKETCHES.......NO. IV.

EUSTACE DE SANTERRE.

No. 43.

In the year 1193, there was a joust | knight!" and a thousand others of or tournament held in a small town the kind, he proceeded to the throne in the south of France, where were of the queen of the lists, and was gathered all the nobility and crowned as conqueror, after declagentry of the province. Number-ration had been made that Eustace less fair ladies and brave knights, Savoutien was victor in this day's even from the remotest parts of joust, by his own good spear, and France, as well as here and there the grace of God. one from merry England, were there-many of them crusadersfollowers of Philip of France, and Richard of the Lion Heart ;-as eager now to engage in a less bloody contest, as they had been but lately to wage a desperate warfare against the forces of Saladdin, on the plains of Syria and of the promised land. The universal conqueror in the sports, was a' knight of the cross.' The bodies of four competitors in arms, who had fallen in succession by his spear, had already shown his prowess. Amid shouts of "A knight of the cross!"-" a knight of the cross!"-" long live the bold VOL. 1.

.And now-friendly reader-go back with me a few, a very few paces, and you will see that a month before this tourney, while the moon was rising bright and beautiful, and imparting all her brightness to a venerable pile of architecture in the south of France, near the town of Marseilles, a knight and lady might have been seen walking back and forth on a terrace in front of the castle, and earnestly engaged in conversation.

"Sweet Eveline," said the knight, while they stopped and fronted the Rhone, as it hustled downward before them to the ocean, "sweet Ev

85