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for means, and I rather rushed forward than travelled. I passed over without seeing the earth, which seemed to spurn me as an outcast. At length I reached Philadelphia, where, in a gambling house, I overheard between two drunken masters of vessels, the following mixed imprecations, as they were in a violent quarrel over their cups and cards. One who had formerly been the mate of the other, roared out, in a voice of rage

"Blood and thunder, Captain Long, what a pity I did not fulfil your orders, and throw that boy overboard, and now turn king's evidence'

"You lie, you villain, you know I took the rascally husband's money, treated the wife kindly. She died, poor thing-how could I help that?'

"God had not abandoned entirely either of those wretches, for a pang seemed to pass through their hearts, which in great part_sobered them both. The first speaker, seizing Capt. Long by the hand, observed, with a sailor's manner"Thank God, Jack—many a time, when the wind rolled us to our beam's end, have I remembered that woman and boy; and, by my timbers, Jack, this very day I saw a young landlubber, in the street, which looked so like the scoundrel father'

"I could bear no more. I saw in Capt. Long the accomplice. But what a mountain was removed from my soul-removed for a momentvirtue beamed one bright flame, and again all was darkness. To escape remorse, I again plunged into dissipation of every kind. Met and sought the ruin of my own son."

"Did you suspect Henry to be your son?" demanded Hillman.

"As I am before an Allseeing eye, I did not," replied Brentwood," my guilt is not thus blackened. If he had reached Philadelphia, he would"

The miserable man could proceed no further. It that the plan was so deeply laid, that appears the innocent young man was to meet the same charges, and fall into like toils. But an unseen hand entangled the destroyer in his own net.

Here the old man folded up the pamphlet, and looking me earnestly in the face, observed," It is time to tell thee, I am Laban Hillman, and the family with whom thou sojourned last night, is mine. Henry took my name, and is my son indeed. The eyes of my lost Maria seemed to look down from heaven, and implore mercy for the father of her son. His son would never see him could I desire he should? Far otherwise. Brentwood died in my house, and rests in a lone copse on the banks of yonder river. Henry Hillman is what his mother would have desired, and the name of Brentwood is no more heard amongst those who would have blessed his memory, if he himself chose a blessing, and not a

"

Written for the Casket. NAPOLEON'S CAMPAIGN IN RUSSIA. BY L. W. TRASK.

Ambition fired the conqueror's eye,
And banners floated to the sky-

Bright groves of steel o'erspread the plain,
And glory urged the warlike train.

"Arouse, surpass the glorious dead,
View Austerlitz," the conqueror said,
"And all those fields, where battle's fire
Gave fame to us, that worlds admire."

"Soldiers, defend our glorious fame,
The valor of our arms proclaim;
And may no Frenchman meet his grave
Unknown as bravest of the brave!"

Nor did those veteran warriors yield,
From Wilna to Smolensko's field;
And there the sun of conflict set,
And saw Napoleon victor yet.

But Borodino's field of gore,
Where brave men bled at every pore,
Revealed, that there the cannon's breath.
Decided Moscow's life or death.

Oh! awful on that field of fight,
Strong heroes perished in their might,
And man and horse, and sword, and shell,
In one promiscuous ruin fell.

Swift cannon shot, in whirling force,
Divided armies in their course;

And blood, and smoke, and shout and cry,
Defled the earth and filled the sky.

The wheels of carnage onward rolled,
The Sun withdrew his flaming gold,
And then the cannon's blazing light,
Shone brilliant in the shades of night.

The horrid work of strife had ceased
Ere morning glimmer'd in the east-
The Russian host afar retired,

And left the field the French desired.
Soon Moscow met the raptured gaze,
Bathed in the hue of solar rays;
In all the charms that arts provide,
She stood, the Russian's song and pride.

But oh! what conflagration gleamed,
When wrapt in flames, fair Moscow seemed
An awful sea of vivid fire,

That levelled every lofty spire.

That fearful and disastrous hour,
Deprived the conqueror of his power;
To hosts, that never knew retreat,
The elements proclaimed defeat.

And that retreat, in winter's ire,
Deprived of food, of rest and fire,
Laid generals, heroes, soldiers low.
In shrouds of dense and freezing snow.
Of all that great aspiring band,
But few reviewed their native land,
The rest resigned their hope and breath,
And pressed the clammy arms of death.
O ye, that urge to war and strife,
To spoil the peace of human life-
To bathe in blood a battle plain-
To ruin empires for your gain-
Beware, lest Providence defeat,
Nor prosper better your retreat.

THE BEAUTY OF VIRTUE.

Written for the Casket. THE BEAUTY OF VIRTUE. He who dedicates his talents to the service of virtue, is, of all others, the most worthy of honor. The hero may display his crimson laurels, and the statesman his civic wreath-the monarch may boast his extended dominions, and the miser his exhaustless treasures-the man of letters may point to you the high achievement of intellectual greatness, and congratulate himself upon the extent of his literary fame; but in all these, if there is not real virtue, there is no real value. The virtuous man alone is entitled to respect, and I hold him to be unworthy of respect who has no virtue. If the hand of heaven had impressed upon him the stamp of greatness-if his mental endowments are of the most exalted order, so much more contemptible is he, if he be destitute of moral principle.

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not consider it his duty to go all lengths consistent with his situation in life, and his social obligations, in advancing the happiness and the temporal and moral welfare of the whole human family, is a foe to his race, and as such should be considered. Let him be an outcast from society. On the other hand, I shall be believed when I say, that he who has the interests of mankind at heart, whose ardent desire is the promotion of morality and benevolence; whose prayer at the rising of the sun and at the going down thereof, is for the welfare of mankind, without regard to sect, to color, or to clime; and whose highest aspirations. are to accomplish the great and glorious object; such a man I say is deserving of honor. His orisons are acceptable at the throne of Grace-his destiny is identified with humanity. It is seldom, very seldom indeed, that the world is blessed with a Kyrll, a Clarkson, a Howard, or a WashWhat assimilates man to the beings of a purer ington. It is seldom that we hear the eloquent world? In what respect is he "a little lower than voice of a Wilberforce, or_are_fascinated with the angels," and by what authority does he claim the persuasive accents of a Frelinghuysen,* precedence and ascendancy in the scale of be- pleading the cause of the oppressed and the enings? Is it the beauty of his form-" the human slaved. But when such men do appear, let them face divine," or, the mere possession of intellect? be honored. They are, and should be hailed No, it his virtue-his virtue alone. It is this that with acclamations of joy, of praise, and of gratigives him a title to the power which he exerts-tude. Let those who make the attempt-even to the happiness which he enjoys; and if he can if that attempt be unsuccessful--to imitate the be said to have any claim to them, it is this that example of those illustrious men, who are emugives him that claim to the blessings which Pro-lous of their talents and fame, be encouraged. vidence is continually showering upon him.

What assimilates him, in many cases, to the beasts of the forest or the reptiles of the dust? Is it mental inferiority? Is it that his body is deformed, or his constitution incapable of enduring the care and turmoil of life? No! far from it; it is the prostitution of the powers of that mind. It is the vice which covers his heart with poisonous and gnawing corrosions, which benumbs his sensibility and paralyzes his strength. When a man has lost his virtue, then-and then alone, has he lost his claim to respect. Is he in distress -by what authority does he invoke our aid? Is he naked, or hungry, or sick, or in prison, what claim has he to the commisseration and assistance of his fellow men? We may pity him-we may assist him-we may take him by the hand and support his tottering frame, but he deserves no such kindness. The ties which bind him to the human family is dissolved; the claim which all men have in common to the affections of their fellow creatures, when their conduct is honorable and virtuous, is forfeited; and the man thus degraded should be abhorred and despised. Administer to his necessities if you please, but in so doing you do not pay a debt-you discharge no duty. When a man voluntarily divests himself of the prerogatives of humanity with respect to himself, we are to be governed then by no law but such as directs us not to tread carelessly upon a worm.

I care not what may be a man's talents-what his wealth-what his achievements, if he has no virtue he merits no praise, no honor.

Upon these broad principles, sanctioned alike by the laws of our nature, and by the dictates and requirements of the holy religion of Christ, I shall be supported by the conviction of every candid reader, when I say, that he who does not exert his might in the cause of virtue-who does

We may, indeed, admire the productions of talent-we may caress the fatherless offspring of corrupted and prostituted genius-we may weep over a moral tale, written by a brazen-fronted libertine, or admire the sublime sentiments of a discourse, composed by a man who is not permitted to show his face within the sacred pale of polite, or moral, or refined society, but we must despise the fountain.

I have seen men whom I could not respect, but they possessed transcendant talents, and evinced the elements of a noble nature of exalted capacities. With all the splendor of intellect-with all the beauty of form that it could be desirable to have, they stood in melancholy grandeur, the wonder and the detestation of all beholders. They were condemned by the sentence of the general voice.

How many tears have been shed over the tomb of neglected genius, and how often has the cold-hearted world been reproached because the most brilliant efforts, and the most ardent exertions of aspiring talent, have been unaided and unrequited. How much sublime thought and ingenuous feeling have been poured forth by illstarred sons of song, without awakening a responsive emotion in the bosoms of any who read or heard. Often, very often, when reflecting on this subject, have we quoted the much admired lines of Gray:

"Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd ocean bear;

Fu'l many a flow'r is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air."

Ah! these are subjects of tearful reflection and
of bitter reproach. But much keener must be

*This gentleman distinguished himself in Congress a few years since, by an eloquent appeal in defence of Indian rights.

that reproach, much more agonizing that reflection, when we consider, that while these amiable and talented masters are pouring forth their sweetest notes unheard and unapplauded, others, inore fortunate but not more gifted, have usurped the laurel, and elicited admiration, not by inculcating sentiments of morality, or by exciting devotional and virtuous feeling, but by attacking morality itself, and hurling envenomed shafts at all which is dear to devotion and to virtue. These are they who find in the flower gardens of poetry, a sanctuary for transgressions of moral and social law, who profane their lips with the dialect of hell-who, prodigal of talent, and of fortune, acquire immortality of fame by encouraging and fostering the worst feelings, the most degrading passions. How often are such received with the frown of contempt, or the lightning glance of indignation. True, they are sometimes condemned, but more frequently are they taken to the bosom of favor and nourished.

band, her charming children and a circle of relatives and friends whom she respected and admired. But her health was bad; pleasure no longer amused her, and the visits of her friends were to her only a source of fatigue. She was unable to pass her hours pleasantly at home, and she had neither the strength nor the desire to go abroad; her duties even became a burden to her. Henry, uneasy at the state of languor and depression in which Madame Valmere had sunk, consulted privately her physician. She is, replied the latter, in a crisis which may yet endure for some time. In a what? exclaimed Henry. I will explain myself, replied the Doctor; The females of Paris follow a mode of life, particularly from their fifteenth year, which tends necessarily to produce in them the same sufferings which Madame Valmere now experiences. Dancing parties, sleighing parties, and the abuse of tea, cause the destruction of a considerable number of them in early youth. But, True greatness consists in the exercise of vir- remarked Henry, dancing is certainly an exertue and in the support of those principles of re- cise as healthful as it is agreeable! That is ligion which are calculated to adorn the human true, replied the physician, when used in modecharacter. We never see a great man descend-ration. In all things excess is injurious and deing to those low arts, to those degrading employ-structive to health. If it be beneficial to dance ments, of which many who are conspicuous in the world, are not ashamed. We never see a great man submit to the will of unbridled appetite, or become a willing slave to inordinate passions. He diffuses around him a salutary influence; the good honor him, seek his company and court his favor. Vice pays him respect, and envy hangs her head before him. He is honest in his dealing, steady in his attachment, unwavering in faith-to him, undoubtedly, it was that Pope referred, when he said:

"A wit's a feather and a chief's a rod,

An honest man's the noblest work of God."

He is not ashamed to be found acting in the sup-
port of virtue, marshalled in the ranks of the fol-
lowers of the cross, and spending his life in un-
tiring devotion to the welfare of his kind. His
"circumnavigations of charity" are frequent;
"and he is most happy when engaged in labors
of benevolence. He knows the luxury of doing
good," and deems that the best employment here
of life, and the most blessed in the sight of his
Maker, which are employed in charity.
Detroit, May, 1832.

C.

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in the country, in the open air, and at a proper season, this cannot be the case when the dance is prolonged for the greater part of the night in a crowded and lighted apartment, where the air. is impure and stifling. And what have you, doc tor, to say against sleighing? That it is an exercise which may be beneficial to females who pass their lives in the country. Why so? Because they are accustomed to exercise daily in the open air, on foot, and in consequence suffer less from the vicissitudes of the weather. While the better class of females in the city are either shut up almost constantly in their apartments, they do go abroad, enclose themselves in a carkept always of an equal temperature, or when riage and permit not a breath of air to blow upon them. Besides, the parties for sleighing in the country are never so brilliant but that one may decline them, if not in perfect health, whilst in the capital, from the moment a party of this kind is made up, there is scarcely a young person who would disappoint herself of the anticipated pleasure, even though labouring under a cold or other slight indisposition. The party sets off and the poor girl returns with her cold considerably augmented. This is still too often neglected for the pleasure of a new excursion, and she is at length confined to her bed with a serious disease of the chest. Thus, for the satisfaction of having traversed the principal streets of Paris, shivering with cold, the eyes filled with tears, and the countenance of a purple hue, amid the discordant sound of a thousand bells, the noise of which scarcely permits any conversation between the individuals of the party, she risks the destruction of her health, perhaps of her life. In regard to tea, its constant and excessive use is generally acknowledged to be highly injurious. Females seem to live upon tea, cream, coffee, cakes and sweetmeats; why should it therefore astonish any one that the health of their stom achs is impaired, their powers of digestion very generally destroyed, their frames debilitated, and that they should be sufferers from various

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chondrical illusions beyond a certain point. The medicines which I give her are sufficient to amuse her, but I am careful that they are not active. But why not quit her? That would be to inflict upon her a serious injury-she would fly then to the Empiric-and in place of my placebos, while taking which she is willing to a certain extent to adopt a proper regimen, she would be satisfied with merely swallowing nos

her complaints as well by the active ingredients which they so generally contain, as by the errors in diet and regimen, from which she then would have no judicious counsellor cautiously to guard her. Though I am unable to do all could desire for your friend, yet, in continuing my attendance upon her, I know that I am still of use to her.

COQUETRY.

FROM THE DESK OF A QUIET MAN.
"If of herself she will not love,
Nothing will make her-

The Devil take her!"

nervous complaints. In this manner it is that their youth and beauty so early vanish. At twenty-five or twenty-six years of age their constitutions commence very sensibly to decay, and a very large number sink at this period into their graves. At any rate, fashionable life must now be abandoned; dancing and pleasure are at the best a fatigue-the night can no longer be turned into day. If the powers of life are not too far exhausted, repose and moderation will re-trum after nostrum, thus constantly aggravating establish the health, if there be good sense enough to direct this prudent course. Now sir, you can understand, why the period of twentysix years is so dangerous for the females of Paris. Madame Valmere is now thirty-six, she is nevertheless at a period of life extremely critical. But on what account, Doctor? Her's is an age at which persons of the least degree of reflection are ordinarily disgusted with the frivolities which the world presents to them as solid pleasures. Impaired health, disgust, ennui and idleness produce depression of spirits and a series of nervous symptoms more or less serious. The female thus afflicted shuts herself up at home; every thing irritates and offends herMY DEAR SIR-I am going to make a confeswithout taste for reading and with a mind but sion for the benefit of mankind. I will relate a little cultivated, life itself becomes a burden. A plain tale. Chagrin and grief will lend me words. minute attention to the state of her health-to When I left the university, some time since, some converse of and enumerate her morbid sensa-demon possessed me with an ardent desire to entions to every individual that comes near her, counter a coquette. Among other blessings, heathe visits of her physician and a daily change of ven had gifted me with a passably good opinion remedies constitute her only pleasure-her en- of myself. I was tall, well-built enough, and tire occupation. In fine, many who can no lon- with a countenance which has not been consiger shine in the circles of youth and of beauty- dered particularly disagreeable by those fair who can no longer command the attention and judges who have had it under review. My eduthe admiration of the world of fashion, by their cation (I considered) was complete, my accomcharms, endeavour to interest it, by exhibiting plishments not a few. I had a tongue in my head all the symptoms of impaired health. They in and knew how to use it, and to back these, I had consequence affect to keep their chambers, by thirty-five thousand dollars in the United States passing a part of the day in solitude. But this bank, which stood as high in every body's estistate of things cannot last long; it is absolutely mation as I did. As for women, (I might flatter necessary to be healed at last, or to continue for myself,) but I did suspect I knew the sex. Boythe remainder of their lives valetudinarians. hood had not passed away altogether unimproved What resource is left them? Balls, assemblies, and I thought should a coquette cross my path, parties no longer present any attraction.she shall have coquetting to her heart's content. There are several modes by the adoption of With these juvenile views of my own powers, which health and cheerfulness may be again re- took apartments in the village of B- and stored.-But which to choose is the difficulty.- here "heaven soon granted what the town denied." They all demand exertion of body, and sacrifice No one spoke of the society of the place without of vitiated tastes and long cherished indulgen- naming Miss She was the theme of every cies. Madame Valmere is in this state of hesi- tongue.--Her beauty, her wit, her voice, her elotancy-her good sense points out to her the pro- quence, her education and accomplishments, her per choice, but her habitual indolence and her fortune, and above all, her desperate flirtations, depression of spirits prevent her from at once her audacious conquests, her cruelty, her--“Oh,” making it—in the mean time she suffers both in said one of my informants, stopping a moment mind and body-and until she summons to her for breath, and breaking a chain of descriptive aid sufficient resolution to change her daily ha- substantives which I began to think endless, bits, she will be an ailing melancholy woman.- "such a tyrant was never before seen. No man But, Doctor, it seems to me that, considering the approaches her but he goes away with a deadly nature of her complaints, she might very well arrow cleaving to his side, and she laughing at dispense with the various medicines which you his anguish." By the blood of the Mirabels," are in the habit of prescribing for her! You I thought, as I drew on my last pump over a silk mistake, my young friend-I am persuaded that stocking, and shook ambrosial fragrance into my Madame Valinere is not a proper subject for snowy handkerchief, which I prepared the next internal remedies-exercise, cheerful occupa- evening to attend a little fete, where I knew I tion of mind, and a well regulated diet can alone should see this dangerous siren," by the blood of restore her health. But then she is of a different the Mirabels, by the guardian genius who never opinion, she believes she is dying-that medi- yet deserted me upon an emergency, I will teach cines will aid her, and the morbid state of her this haughty and cruel tyrant what it is to malmind is such that I dare not oppose her hypo- treat my sex. A parcel of illiterate country

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I

was Shakspeare's Juliet, but where the Ro-
meo?
The thought made me turn in my chair as if I
had trodden on an adder.

A moment after we were called to the dance.
"Dance with me!" I said.

"I have refused three already," she replied, "I said I was engaged."

dunces have been swelling her triumphs with a list of unmeaning and dishonorable captives, and hence her fame. Doubtless she is some little, smooth-faced doll, some pert forward miss, full of airs, and smelling of boarding-school and bread and butter. Proud of a bright complexion and a little money, spoiled by flattery and the want of competition, a creature that would be eclipsed, burnt up in the blaze of a city soiree. Our eyes met. If love ever flashed in a glance, As I am a man I will attack her. I will revenge I had kindled in the bosom of this angelic creathe wrongs of her victims, I will teach her a les-ture a flame like that which was every moment son. My arm, more lucky than the rest,' shall burning more ardently in mine. reach her heart, and free the world from bondage.'" I gaye the finishing brush to my whiskers, I laid a stray curl an inch aside from my high white forehead, I turned the tip of my collar inward, about half the breadth of a hair. The broad mirror reflected my person. My eyes are large and dark. I thought them just then particularly brilliant.

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Our eyes met again. Wonderful, wonderful orbs, to be the source of such delight-to be the windows through which so much heavenly bliss can be poured in upon the soul.

I took her hand as it laid upon her knee. It was small, and white, and soft--like nothing else in nature. Not to press it slightly was as impossible as for the thirsty pilgrim not to drink. The pressure was returned. A flood of rapture rolled along my nerves. Surely some heavenly power led my steps over enchanted ground. Every look was language-every motion delight-every touch eloquence-happiness-love.

"Rural belles should not be too saucy," murmured 1, as I rang the bell at my friend's seat. A few moments more found me sitting by the side of a sweet, modest girl, to whom in the confusion of a crowd, much more numerous and dazzling than I had expected, some one had introduced "You will not refuse me!" I drew her gently me in so hurried a manner as to leave each one as zephyr kisses the half opened flowers, and even ignorant of the other's name. I looked at her- as they, with bashful reluctance, unfold their she was a Venus. I danced with her-she was leaves and blush to meet the light, so this radiant a sylph. I heard her sing-she was an angel. creature yielded to my impulse, and I led her I absolutely forgot Caroline B. The village co- through a dance that seemed a dream, only it was quette had passed utterly from my mind, in the too delicious. The opportunity was not neglectseducing loveliness—the simple, modest grace-ed. I whispered in her ear. I grew bold and the exquisite air of elegance and propriety, which saucy, and her fine eyes flashed up to mine with my charming acquaintance exhibited. At length a perfect satisfaction, which told me my conquest I remembered. I took my gaze from her coun- was complete. tenance, and looked around for the object of my former curiosity. A superbly dressed girl was dancing near us; all feathers, flounces, jewelsblazing, rustling-laughing aloud-with a head-bade her adieu. dress like a tower. She smiled on this gentleman-she whispered to that-she suffered a third to hold her hand, and a fourth to tie her shoe. "Yes," said I, to myself," this is Caroline B. This is the terror of our country swains. Ah, what mistaken ideas of beauty. Ah, what coarse taste. They have never seen painting and statuary. They have never read poetry. They are ignorant of true beauty."

The dance was over-an engagement with a friend hurried me away.

"I will see you to-morrow," I whispered, as I

I strode along the floor like an emperor, and in the height and glow of my triumph encountered the gentleman who had given me so flaming an account of the village coquette.

"Well, my boy," I exclaimed; "I have hitherto neglected to he introduced to your wonderful Miss B., but I think I could meet her without danger."

"Meet her!" replied he, with a look of surprise. Why, you have been bending over her-entranced-an hour-by the clock. Two or three here have been watching you all the time."

The truth flashed upon me--I was all amazement--fear-horror. As I looked around, I saw twenty people grinning at me with the malice of fiends.

"Here," said my friend, some time afterwards, "I have a lesson for you."

He guided me to another apartment.

I withdrew my gaze-I rested my eyes again on the face of my charming friend. Her dress was simple white-beautiful, unspotted, snowy white. No decorations-no tinsel-no gaudy vulgar solicitations for the crowd's attention; but rather a studied reserve, a classic simplicity, a natural grace and refinement of soul, had taught her those true elements of beauty which painters spend their lives in learning. Her rich hair was parted with a severe absence of ornament, on a head (whatever Miss Carolina B. might think) by far the most chastely beautiful in the room. Her modest eyes beamed with a tender feeling which made the heart tremble; and the subdued and thoughtful expression visible in her countenance, resembled the melancholy smile of an autumnal morning, which falls upon the still earth through a silver mist, at once as pleasing as hap-gentleman ask her to dance. piness, and as sad as sorrow. A creature so beautiful I never saw before. From that mo

I went like a lamb to the sacrifice. Miss Caroline B. was sitting with a handsome fellow. "He's from the city!" said my friend-then the rascals all laughed.

"He's just out of the university!" said another then they all laughed again.

By a curious coincidencel even heard the

"I have refused six," said she.

"But you will dance with me?" and off they

ment I too, believed in broken hearts. Here went sure enough.

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