the medium of our newspapers, are of his are marked by uncommon grace and

of reason, and the realms of learning; but How strange it is, that when the principle To satisfy a thirst for happiness. we believe they require only a right di- Of light is living in us, we should shut rection of their faculties, to become as Its emanations in, and darkly stray useful as they are brilliant; to act as pow-That should forget its glory and go out, To catch a beam from nature, like a star erfully on the moral sense, as they do on Because the moon was shining not in hea→ the passions. The compositions of Wil- ven!

THE CLOCK AND THE BELL.

that you may be for teaching me, in turn, he elements of your philosophy, which might imperceptibly take place of my own;-principles which I have so long practised, that they have become a cond nature. But as I have made it a

se

rule through life, never to deny, friend or foe, any favor in my power, I cannot find it in my heart to refuse you.'

You are very kind,' said the Bell; and I hope our acquaintance may ripen into friendship.'

IN a certain ancient city, seated on the banks of the Witham about five miles from the German Ocean, stood an antique Gothic Church, whose lofty tower was garnished with a CLOCK. It maintained its solitary situation for many a year, indicating the gradual lapse of time to the passing traveller, and amusing itself only with its own ticking,—unheeding and unheeded, by the noisy world. At length the melancholy face of the Clock, and On one condition only,' replied the the faithful and constant waiving of its Clock,-namely: that you shall never hands, attracted the sympathy of a neigh- | ask me, under any circumstances whatboring BELL, who in the process of ever, to vary my time; or even expect me time, took lodgings in the same tower. A in the slightest degree, to change the prinpleasant acquaintance was soon formed ciples that govern my actions:-right or between them, through the introduction wrong, they are mine,-mine to direct of the carrillonneur, who had the su- my movements, but not mine to barter perintendence of the Bell. away.'

At length discovering that they were made of similar materials, and had a common, though remote origin, the Bell, therefore claimed a collateral kindred with the Clock, and honored him with the appellation of cousin. One summer's evening, after ringing a merry peal, the Bell accosted the Clock with How now, cousin, why are you always so sad and silent?'

Madam,' replied the Clock, silent, I may be, but does it therefore follow, that I must be sad? Is the music of our dreams less sweet, because it never thrills another's ear?-or the visions of sleep less beautiful, because they never bless another's eye? The shallow rivulet that rushes along with noisy impetuosity, dis. covers to the eye a rocky bed, without a gem; but when the ocean garners up its treasures, the blue deep glides in silence -no eye can fathom its sanctuary!'

This is very odd philosophy, cousin,' said the Bell. Though I do not altogether comprehend it; yet do I not altogether dislike it. Can you instruct me in

its elements?'

'I am apprehensive,' replied the Clock, VOL. 1.

Madam,' the Clock gravely replied, the reason why I will not is, I cannotit is impossible; and any importunity on this key, I shall consider as an infraction of our treaty.-If we are happy with ourselves, why should we be so vain, as to throw away our happiness upon a graceless world? Who respects the fop for fluttering with his glittering finery amidst the vulgar herd? Who thanks the fool for unlocking his precious casket, to expose its pearls and jewels to the stupid gaze, but grasping hands, of the swinish multitude?'

These sentiments,' rejoined the Bell,

'seem to be very just, cousin. But your philosophy,—pardon me,—is mere excentricity; and I mean to laugh you out of it. You are as vain of it, as the fop of his finery.'

But I do not make a display of it, like the fop, replied the Clock: and the vanity of concealing my faults,madam, cannot be a very henious crime.'

'Come-come,coz,' rejoined the Bell, let us be friends, and since I cannot correct your faults, I will overlook them.'

Sir,' said the Bell is it you?' Madam,' replied the Clock, it is-Good night!'

What is your haste?' inquired the Bell. There can be no haste,' rejoined the Clock when there is no occasion to tarry.' The Bell seemed struck with surprise, and seized the Clock's hand to stop it—but it passed on in si

Year after year passed away in mutual friendship. The Clock listened to the merry music of the Bell; and in return would reach forth his marteau, and num-lence, and the mantle of night veiled its ber the passing hours upon her pouting motions from her eye forever. lips, which sent abroad upon the invisi- The Clock had for some moons previble pinions of the wind, their sweet but ous to this, discovered that the Bell had solitary notes,-warning alike, the sad a gold repeater, and suspected that hig and happy, of the flight of time. services would be unnecessary, if not suAt length, fortune rung some chan-perfluous, to note the flights of time. ges in the parish, the Bell was removed Indeed, when the Clock at some periods and the friends separated-hut their friendship remained. After some dozen months the Bell returned, and was replaced in the same tower with her ancient friend, with whom she had numbered the pleasant hours, during four score moons. The intimacy was renewed: but there were so many holidays in the city, and the Bell was so often put in motion amidst the merry crowds and happy circles, that the marteau of the Clock seldom found an opportunity of paying a passing salutation to his old friend. He would frequently knock on moonlight nights, but was rarely blessed with a response from the lips of the Bell. Her tones too, seemed somewhat changed, as they vibrated on the ear. At length on a dull and drizzly evening after the Bell had rang out, an irregular, but annual feast-day, and had become lonely and silent-while all the rest of the parish were engaged in plays and revelry, the Clock groped about the turret for his old friend, and extended his marteau to sa

had struck the hours, the Bell seemed to insinuate, that she had more Clocks at her service, than she well knew how to entertain civily; and hinted that she had already cut the acquaintance of some of them and should have to blink at a few more. The Clock at such times, would politely suggest to his friend, that an acquaintance, which was at sometimes useless, might possibly at others, be of advantage, and that any acquaintance was better than any enemy. Not so thought the Bell.In short he at length left her to test the correctness of his doctrine by her own experience.

Scarcely four moons after his last knock; the Bell began to think it strange, that she had heard nothing from the Clock; and finally discovered that he might be of some use to her. She had indeed all kinds of Chronometers, except the one he now wanted-and which she had unceremoniously ejected,-because she imagi ed she should never have occasion for it again. But a 'new' holiday was.

or in the no less bloody sports of the tiltyard; though they wandered in disguise, from land to land, sacrificing the duties and affections of home, to a passion for adventure, and mistaken ambition; though it must be confessed, their unsettled life was spent in useless toil, or perhaps, sometimes in crime, yet, after all, the better traits of their order should not have been so thoroughly swept away with its follies, leaving mankind without motive, or example, to lead them on to true no

The Clock meant to have returned this brief response, 'Madam, our friendship | bility. is wound up- -forever!' but pausing, said in a mild tone-'We may have no occasion for our eyes while sleeping; but it is hardly necessary for this reason to part with them.-Friendship is the eye of the soul;-once plucked out, it can never be restored-its light is extinguished forever!'

CLITUS.

The clock has since struck one more monitory note, which is a favorable

omen.

CHIVALRY,

We do not lament over the extinction of chivalry, because we have lost the imposing array of tilts and tourneys, and helmets crowned with the glove of a fair damsel to be defended, even in death, and garters and spurs, and sounding epithets; but because we have lost a charm of social intercourse, with them;-dignified, but gentle courtesy, a lofty sense of honor, an order, whose purity knows not and tolerates not disgrace, whose profession and practice it is to elevate, and still more, to adorn social life. Our domestic enjoyments, are too stiff, without refinement; THE spirit of chivalry, which was perwe are glum and sullen, among equals verted in past time, into a most wild, in- and superiors, as though dignity consistjurious love of adventurous romance, is ed in abstraction and pride; we do not now quite lost; and with it, society has reserve our hauteur for actual vice and lost a charm, that is unatoned for, by any degradation, but wear it on all occasions, modern fashion or feeling. The high-ton- and in all places, at the public assembly ed disinterestedness of ancient knighthood, among strangers, and at the fireside among the lofty courtesy, the untarnishable hon- friends, as though goodness existed not, or, which secured every one from degra- and welcome in the world depends not and suspicion were a virtue. Good name dation, or insult, however far it might have wandered from domestic duty, or now, upon purity of heart, or talents, or good actions; but vice is in every society, true humliity, exhibited some lovely feaif it is brazed with impudence, or gilded tures, and only wanted the training hand with wealth, and character is estimated by of civilization to be the brightest orfamily or station. The dissipated, the nament of human nature. Its best feamean and the vulgar, are even more courttures were, an undying aspiration, after ed and praised among pretenders and purity of name and fame, and an inextin-friends to beauty and innocence, than true guishable thirst to do good, whenever an worth, which retires from arrogating its opportunity could be found. In obedi- own rights, and shrinks from a competience to these rules, all human passions tion with worthlessness. If a general were modelled; and though aspirants sense of honor, or even a moderately strove after distinction in fields of strife, strict virtue existed in the community,

such things could not be. Shame wouldry, and manners. The work will be un

rest upon depravity, and the purifying fire of chivalry would pass over mankind. We may laugh at knightly wanderings, affected mysteries, and romantic curiosity; but we have little reason to laugh, when we compare the days of chivalric glory with our own. Then, generous hospitality was not a strange virtue; now, it sinks into an annual entertai, ment. Then, a

der the editorial direction of N. P. Willis, one of our best poets, and will be issued quarterly in a duodecimo volume. As an incentive to genius, the publisher of the Legendary agrees to pay the contributors at the rate of one dollar for every printed page inserted in the work of prose, and at a higher rate for poetry. He could scarcely have selected as an ed

itor one of more pure or delicate taste, or whose personal resources and contributions, would be more highly estimated. Under such auspices, there seems to be no doubt of the success and permanency of the undertaking.

J.

needy stranger, was a welcome friend; now, if we harbor a stranger, he may prove a brute, or a villain, and our doors are closed against all, to prevent their unwelcome intrusion. This is right, as society exists; but the whole order of things should be changed; for when a man appears with the shape and bearing of huBoston of late is becoming singularly manity, we should be assured, that he prolific in literary enterprizes, however practices its virtues; and if he has not the frail or uncertain their existence. With motives to purity in his breast, he should the publication of the twelfth number, we have a terrible fear of proscription and regret to learn that the Lyceum' will degradation from the human race. Then, cease to be conducted by the present it was hardly a duty, it was a common editor, whose taste and talents peculiarly thing, to seek out and relieve misery; fitted time for the task, although we have now, men pursue their own selfish ends, hopes that it will not be suspended altoregardless of the wants and sufferings of gether. Should it happily fall into the others, without taking the trouble to in-hands of a lady of literary pursuits, and

quire after what is hidden, or bestowing a thought upon what is thrown in their way; a stated charity, or an occasional contribution, is all of benevolence, that is now a burthen to the majority of the world.

acquirements whom we have heard mentioned, we trust it may be destined to a longer life.

Albums.-A young country gentleman requested a poetic writer We acknowledge these remarks to be to address some lines to a young cynical, but we know, that they are lady of his acquaintance, and write honest, because we believe them to be them in her album. The poet retrue. We regret the extinction of the en-plied, that not having the pleastire glory of chivalry; for it inculcated virtues, which redeemed a very bad age, and might greatly improve ours.

ALARIC.

Mr. S. G. Goodrich, one of the most spirited of the fraternity of Booksellers, proposes to publish a periodical work to be called the Legendary, to consist of original pieces in poetry and verse, principally illustrative of our history, scene

ure of being acquainted with the lady, not even knowing her by sight, (which was particularly important,) he could say nothing of course of her mental or personal accomplishments. Oh! if that is all, cried the young man, I can tell you all about it! Black eyes and red cheeks, paints beautifully! plays on the piano! and dances the best that ever you saw!-You shall have the whole inventory, said the poet.