el was Pope, his latest Moore. But through-
out this class of his writings runs a happy
vein peculiarly his own." The poetry of this
volume is indeed most unequal, yet it be-
comes us not to point out its defects, we had
rather dwell upon its beauties, and select the
following.

IF ANGELS SEE, AND ANGELS FEEL.
If angels see, and angels feel,

They must rejoice above,
When innocence and beauty kneel
To supplicate their love.

Go, then, sweet fair and utter forth
Thy pure and artless prayer,
And heaven in tribute to thy worth,
Will yield admittance there.

Yet leave not me, alas! alone-
But sue for me above,

That at the foot of God's own throne

We both may dwell in love.

Thy spotless mantle o'er me throw,
And bear me safely in;
For who, in such disguise would know
The countenance of sin?

SCRAPS FROM A PORT FOLIO.

with the thermometer up to 90, and our progress about three miles an hour! The buildings here are generally of an ordinary cast; and the soil, though apparently rich in some places, presents but few. instances of high cultivation.

The village of Chambly exhibits more of rural beauty, as also the peculiarities of architecture, than the former. The view of High Mountain and the ancient stone fort, add much to the picturesque beauty of this place. There are few or no buildings which we Yankees would call elegant on this route: the cottages are said to resemble those of the French peasantry, more in style perhaps than in the materials of which they are composed, being principally of stone. Still there are many log and frame buildings that seem ill calculated to brave the severity of the wintry storm. The roofs are high, and much slanted, projecting over the building in the Dutch style, and are sometimes supported in front by pillars, which much imthatched, and others are covered with proves their appearance. Many are

shrubs.

IN passing from Burlington to St. Johns, after luxuriating at our ease = on the ample deck of a pleasant E steam-boat, gliding over a transparent lake, embosomed by the most de-bright tin. In almost every enclosure, lightful scenery in nature, we felt a fort of French taste may be discoverattached to these dwellings, some efpainful contrast in being absolutely ed, such as circles and hearts containwedged with a dozen other unfortunates, into a trundling vehicle with-ing flowers of every hue and descripout spring or cushion, whose name of tion, while each porch and window is shadowed by some luxuriant vine, or honor was a Stage Coach. After an indifferent breakfast at the KINGS ornamented with pots of flowering ARMS, a ten-foot Hotel, with a log staircase, our party consented to creep over the front wheels of our arkish One of our horses giving strong looking establishment, whose lining indications of approaching death, obliand draperies were composed of Yan- ged the coachman to stop at an Inn, kee check, tastefully drawn up with in order to procure another; this ocquality binding, to which was attach-cured just as the inhabitants of the ed four animals, which from their dif- village were assembling to the oppoferent size and colour, seemed to have site church. Here then we beheld been selected expressly to grace the conveyances of all sorts, from a one, occasion, as curiosities from the four to a four horse vehicle. Here and corners of the earth. Learning, how- there, it is true a solitary southern ever, that every other equipage was gig, might be seen proudly careering appropriated, we resolved to make through the crowd-but in general the best of this-spring or no spring, their carriages are formed like our prepared like Gilpin's family to dash milk-carts, with a square top coverthrough thick and thin; and this to ing about half its length and containthe text, we most certainly did, some-ing several seats; many of the smaller times whirling like Will o' Wisp over quagmire and bog, and at others, toiling through a desert of sand, hot as those of Arabia, and almost as barren,

ones resemble a sleigh upon wheels. Fancy in her wildest mood could not conceive of more grotesque dresses than these people presented, while

he was admirable, and drew forth the mus enthusiastic applause. Mr. Thayer wasucommonly interesting as Wilford; in se mental or light characters, he always ceeds well. Mr. Cowell proved his comple power over the “risibles" of his audience, the accompanying bursts of laughter wa which his Sampson was greeted; also, is "Tille-tattle-tat." The most interesting male character in the piece, is Blanch, whe was performed by Mrs. Cowell with m "naivete;" her dress, was as usual, best and appropriate.

waiting in groups around the church for the arrival of their priest, who soon appeared on foot, clad in his sacerdotal robes, and mitre, which were very rich, or at least dazzling, followed by another in a white surplice bearing a rosary and bible. The costume of the male natives of low order, is between that of a Northern savage, and a French peasant, a sort of a frock coat, of no very definite form, is much worn, confined by a belt or sash, and the hat encircled by a ribbon of some gay colour, with long ends floating over the shoulder. This last article is worn by both sexes, with no difference of form or trimming, except the ladies choose to add a wreath or a ter which he assumes. Mrs. Cowell, i feather? These hats are of ordinary dence which sometimes marks her playing the characteristic delicacy-nay, even diffelt or common straw and placed ex-created some doubts of her power of earactly on the top of the head. Their

In the afterpiece, the boisterous "Perv chio," by Mr. Hamblim, was well done; this gentleman has a splendid wardrobe, and ts costume is always accordant with the charac

Belles' shew a passion for striped ing" to the life" the haughty shrew of Shaks garments, which are very full and peare. Yet she achieved her part with much short and sometimes worn with ather leaf to her Thespian crown. grace and spirit, whereby she has added m boddice of different colour; they are profuse in the ornaments of beads, the Tremont Theatre, we would remark th Of the first Saturday evening Concert at earrings and ribbons. Yet we noticed it was a most delightful treat. The ed many pretty and fanciful dresses of voices of the ladies Papanti and George, prothe English stamp, which had a plea-duced the sweetest harmony, finely accostsing effect in this incongruous group, ing with the deep rich tones of Messrs. Comer which resembled a masquerade more and Howard. The latter gentleman possess than a religious convention. There es less power than the former in the Soprane is a strange mixture of savage rude-notes, yet there is a breathing softness in hus ness, and French suavity about these warble that we never heard equalled by a people though hardy and bold in masculine voice. The Mammoth viol, whose their appearance, we noticed that cable cords seemed to require a Colossal whenever they were addressed, they hand to wake their music, made the exter always replied with civility and res- sive area echo with its thunders. The fute pect, and are ever ready to offer you concerto was fine; so was also the Horn salo their assistance in case of any acci- by Mr. Papanti. This concert was better and dent in travelling, but their language more fully attended than any we ever wit is barbarous, a sort of a mongrel di-nessed in this city; it appears to have givet alect, which no French scholar unaccustomed to them, can understand.

TREMONT THEATRE.

The following notice of the performance of the "Iron Chest," was omitted last week for want of room.

On Wednesday evening last, the "Iron Chest" was for the first time this season, presented to a full and fashionable house. The part of Sir Edward Mortimer,sustained by Mr. Booth, afforded food for those "critics" who had witnessed Kean in this character, when in the zenith of his theatrical glory. Yet in his original conception of this part, we believe that Mr. Booth lost no laurels' by the comparison. In the scene, where the examination of Wilford takes place, he was less effective than the former; yet in the denouement of the plot

general satisfaction to all who witnessed it,
and no doubt but each succeeding one will
patronized by the public, not only as a chaste
amusement, but also for the benefit of these
who are pursuing that science. Yet we d
hope that these musical treats are not "pr
matic performances on Saturday evening
paring the way for the introduction of re-
which we apprehend would not be patred
by that circle which the managers are anti-
tious to attract to their stage.
nited powers of Messrs. Booth, Archer, &
Nothing but the strong attraction which the
Duff presented, could have induced us to wi
ness the performance of the Apostate on Wo
nesday evening last. It is a shocking pe
and has scarcely one redeeming point to sa
it from condemnation. The truth with which
the several prominent characters were cat

L

i

ted, rendered its horrors more impressive; we cannot forgive the author for quenching the rapture of the closing scene, with the "poisoned cup."

MR. BOOTH.

ness. They are full of passion, full of energy, but they are never what they are represented to be; they are never beautiful, they are never charged with hopes, never capable of being tortured into mere poetry; his imagery is a sort of household every-day imag

In recognition of the acceptable manner with which this gentleman has acquitted him-ery, and I am inclined to believe the self as acting manager of the Tremont Theatre, the Association committee have, as a token of their respect, presented him with a superb silver cup and plate, manufactured by Messrs. Welles & Gelston of this city. The cup bears this inscription: "The Tremont Theatre Association in token of respect to J. B. BOOTH, Esq. Boston, Oct. 28, 1828.

[From the Token.]

THE INDIAN LANGUAGE.
BY JOHN NEAL.

The white men of Europe, I may say of America also, have exceedingly false and absurd notions of what they call Indian eloquence. The language of a red Orator is nothing. You see speeches every day that pass for Indian oratory; speeches which are imitated by all who desire to give others an idea of Indian oratory; and yet I assure you that I do not know a speech in the world-not a single paragraph, I might say decidedly characteristic of the native Indian-the serious, proud uncorrupted Indian of the back woods. His language is remarkable for sobriety, for a severe and familiar plainness-not for bold ornament nor metaphor. It abounds with short, strong phraseology, and abruptness, but not such abruptness, I will say that for the Indian orator, as we see every where now, in the reported speeches of the red men. The very few ornaments-and very few they are, whatever people may suppose that occur in the speech of a red man, are not so much his ornaments as they are the ornaments of his tribe or people. They are the very language he speaks-and are after all but few, and meagre enough, considered as conventional poetry, or metaphor, though important as a part of the language. They are never the poetical combination nor the rhetorical embellishments of the individual. His thoughts are eloquent, but never in the way ours are, with beauty of speech-they are so with a sort ofbarbarous candor and straight forward

fragments of another language-a language older than that in which he speaks now, or derived from the barbarous poetry of some_earlier and mightier people; for the Indian is peculiar, and the phraseology and thought foreign; that is unlike the body of the language in which these little fragments are found, as it were, imbedded like so many bright shells, or gems of beauty in a dull fixed medium of earth.

GRAMMATICAL PUN.

I never knew your christian name sir, said You are a 'Yankee' you know, replied he, a little school girl to a gentleman, what is it? therefore you must "guess." What does A stand for? The indefinite article sir, have I guessed right?

TO CORRESPONDENTS

The author of " Eustace De Santerre" requests us to state that the names of Louis and Charles Santerre, were by a mistake written Louis and Charles De Mortemar in several instances; this the reader will please to correct.

A. R. will receive a line by sending to this
See the last number.

office.

Mary, for thee 1 turn this closing page,
Yet ere I on my votive task engage,

Oh, let me wish thee with a heart sincere,

All love hath breathed, or friendship written here:
Fair are the offerings that adorn thy shrine,
And consecrated by the classic nine.

'Tis thine, in pleasure's bright illumined hall,
To shine the meteor of the festive ball-
Where lovliest forms in joyous groups advance,
And youth, and beauty weave the sportive dance;
Long may these fragrant blossoms bloom for thee,
Sweet emblems of thy grace and purity.

"Tis thine, to waken music's seraph lyre,
To breathe responsive to each thrilling wire;
While smiling love with rosy fettered wings,
Around thy harp his gathered fragrance flings-
Oh! may thy future moments glide along,
Soft as the echo of thy dulcet song.

"Tis thine, with pencil dipt in morning's beam,
To catch the glow of poesy's bright dream,
While hope's enchanting scenes around thee lie,
Fair as thy blush, and sparkling as thine eye!

All that is beautiful, and bright, and fair,
All thy young fancy paints, be thine to share.

Dance, song, and painting, poetry and love,
The rural ramble, and the moonlight grove-
All these have charmed thee-may they still impart
Joy to thy steps, and pleasure to thy heart:

And when the sunny hour of youth is flown,
May peace and soft contentment be thine own.

AUGUSTA.

THE MANIAC'S SONG TO THE CLOUD.

Sweet rosy cloud bend down to me,

From thy bright path on high-
As onward thou roll'st eternally
Through the azure curtained sky.

Fair cloud-they say that I am mad!
But that I cannot be-

Though my soul is dark, and my heart is sad
As o'er this cold earth I flee.

Think not—think not to pass me by
Or my wild converse shun-

No not though ye soar through the trackless sky
To yon high and burning sun.

With thee I'll course the earth around,

Swifter than wing can fly—

And where e'er thy mantle of mist is found
Beneath thee-there am I.

Oh! I would soar on the wings of the wind,
Or ride on the light'nings flash :

Or brave the ocean, its waves to bind
While its mountain surges dash.

"Tis the hour of my rest for the sun is out-
Mark! all his rays are fled;

They call-the stars above me shout,
As the moon mounts o'er my head.

I come-I come, sweet evening cloud,
Where all is so calm and bright,
Casting away the earthly shroud,
That veils my home of light!

Upward and upward through yon blue space,

To that pure throne I'll go,

"Tis my weary spirits resting place

Adieu! to the world below.

ALBERT.

SONG.

Tune-"Spanish National Air."

O sweet from the ocean the wavy commotion,
Comes over my bosom this beautiful eve;
But sweeter thy breathing, thy silver tone wreathing,
In joy with these echoes, dear Mary, believe
I live but to hear thee-I sigh to be near thee,
And dream of thee, sleeping, dear Mary, believe.

O fair is the shining of sunny gold twining,
And slumbering on the white clouds of the west,
But fairer the tresses, whose kindly caresses

Are given, dear girl, to thy innocent breast-
The clouds shall be flying, their beauty be dying,
But long over thee shall the light of love rest.

J O. R.