Young ladies now wear lovely curls,

What pity they should buy them;

And then their bonnets-heavens! they fright The beau that ventures nigh them.

Then as to gowns, I've heard it said
They'll hold a dozen men ;

And if you once get in their sleeves
You'll ne'er get out again.

E'en love is changed from what it was,—
Although true love is known:

'Tis wealth adds lustre to the cheek,
And melts the heart of stone.

Thus Time works wonders ;-young and old
Confess his magic power.

Beauty will fade; but Virtue proves

Pure gold in man's last hour!

S*****

FRIENDSHIP.

THE Goddess has a multitude of worshippers; but many of them pay her only a blind devotion. They form a confused idea of something lovely and desirable, but have no just conceptions of her true character. They imagine her favor may be purchased with the same coin that buys other pleasures, and frequently reckon themselves among her favorites, while utter strangers to her.

The Goddess once appointed a day for all her adorers to appear before her, and present their offerings. The summons was received with universal delight. The appointed day arrived, and a vast multitude assembled-each prepared with a gift. The Goddess appeared, seated on a throne made of a silver cloud, and studded with the gems and brilliants of heaven. Her figure and countenance were most beautiful-celestial beauty, such as earthly language will not describe. There was in her manner a sweet dignity, but nothing to awe or intimidate. She looked round on the admiring throng with a benevolent, discriminating glance, that seemed to say, "I would bestow my choicest favors on you all, if you knew how to appreciate them."

At length, the signal was given for them to bring forward their offerings. Every heart beat quickly, and every one turned, involuntarily, to see if his gift were worth presenting.

The first approached, and kneeling, spread all his treasures of wealth upon her altar; then raised his eyes to determine by her countenance whether the offering was accepted.

The Goddess frowned! "Can gold," she exclaimed, "gain friendship? impotence of hope!" "Remove the trash!" It was done. In its stead, he arranged his titles and honors all in due order before her; again she frowned! He hastily put them aside, and in their place laid the record of his fame. It would not do-with a look of displeasure she bade him take it away. He obeyed; then throwing himself at her feet, he thus addressed her :

"Great

Goddess. I have offered thee all that mortals value; I have nothing left-but my heart ;"--he paused--her look of displeasure was gone. "I freely surrender it," he exclaimed. She smiled, and accepted the offering.

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Then rising from her throne, she addressed the vast assembly: "Children of men, know, that in the eye of friendship, gold is dross, honor a bubble, fame empty air; at her shrine the heart alone is accepted.'

The crowd dispersed, though not without murmuring; for many had no hearts, and those who had, were so corrupted by vice, as made them sensible they were not worth offering. The hearts that were heaped on the altar of Mammon, could not be recalled; nor those which lay scattered at the shrine of pleasure. A smiling few approached, and presented the sacrifice of unsullied affections. As she received them, her countenance lighted up with such a resplendent beauty, that its radiance was reflected on the faces of her favorites-and they wear it to this day.

S. J.

1

TO M. M. H.

I've marked that beaming eye of thine,
Of heaven's own azure light,

In mild and tender beauty shine

As if no with'ring blight

Of sorrow's frown, or earthly care,

Had quench'd the fire that sparkled there.

I've looked upon the cloudless brow-
So pure from every stain,

And prayed that time might never bow
That youthful head in pain;

Or cold neglect or dark despair

E'er leave a shade of sadness there.

I've gazed, and wished the gentle heart
Enshrined within that form,

Might never feel affliction's dart

Or bide misfortune's storm;

And prayed those lips might ever wear
The happy smile that lingers there.

ELIZA.

THE following is a literal translation of a small part of the 6th scene in the 1st act of Schiller's splendid Tragedy of Mary Stuart. The translation is literal to a word: this was my object, rather to present to the English reader an exact transcript of Schiller's style and manner of thought, than to give a free and copious version, thereby sacrificing the vigour and strength of the original to splendid diction.

FROM SCHILLER'S TRAGEDY OF MARY STUART. Mortimer addressing Queen Mary, while imprisoned in England by Elizabeth.

"I remembered twenty years of my life. O Queen, I was grown up in the practice of rigid duties, being educated to a gloomy hatred of Popery, when an invincible desire impelled me to visit the continent. I left behind me. the dull lecture-rooms of the Puritans, my native country; in rapid course I passed through France, seeking far-famed Italy with ardent hope. It was the time of the great churchfestival; the roads were swarmed with the bands of Pilgrims, every sacred statue was crowned with wreaths; it was as if mankind were on a Pilgrimage, journeying to the kingdom of Heaven-the current of the faithful multitude seized even me and bore me on to the city of Rome.

How did I feel, O Queen! when the splendour of the pillars and triumphal arches rose to my view, the magnificence of the Colosseum encircled wonders, a high spirit of the arts locked me up in its serene world of wonders. I had never felt the power of the arts. The church, which educated me, hated the charm of the senses, it tolerated no image-worshipping the incorporeal Word alone. What were my feelings, as now I trod in the interior of the church, and the music of Heaven descended, and the prodigal fullness of the statues gushed from the wall and ceiling,-the most magnificent and sublime, as present, moved before the enraptured senses; as now I saw themselves, the Heavenly things, the salutation of the Angel, the birth of our Lord, the holy mother, the descended Trinity, the shining trans

figuration as thereupon I beheld the Pope in his pomp, hold High mass and bless the people. O what is gold, what the lustre of jewels, wherewith the kings of the earth adorn themselves!

Only He is surrounded with Heavenly things; a real kingdom of Heaven is his house, for not of this world are these forms."

J. G. N.

DREAMS.

A dream! what is it? It would seem that reason, tired with directing the machinery of mind, gives the reins to fancy, and she, unchecked by the salutary admonitions of her judicious counsellor, follows the bent of her own fitful. and capricious humour, urging us onward over flower and thorn, through shower and sunshine, at one time surrounding us with scenes of gladness-thrilling, heart-felt gladness; anon, plunging us in sullen darkness, as gloomy as it is unwelcome. These are the dreams which visit us with sleep. But, there is another class, whose pernicious effects, I doubt not thousands have experienced. These are day dreams. They enervate the mind, unfit those who indulge them, for the sober and rational pursuits of real life, or the active performance of social and relative duties, and are decidedly opposed to thorough, mental discipline. Similar objections have been urged against the indiscriminate reading of popular romances; but from accurate observation, I have been led to believe, that they do not tend so directly to produce these effects, as what is properly denominated building castles in air. In the former we are spectators, in the latter, actors.

Let a young lady of plain exterior, imagine herself beautiful; for she knows, in defiance of what philosophers may assert, or good sense dictate, that a fine face and figure will command immediate, and almost involuntary homage, while the jewel in the leaden casket is suffered to remain unnoticed. Let her, I say, adorn herself with the fascinations of beauty, let crowds follow her, basking in her smiles, or