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suits or companions. I learned by a letter received around her, humbled, forsaken, wretched. A proud this evening, that he is suffering from illness; and disposition, or a sensitive heart, would have sunk had I obeyed the dictates of my feelings, I should beneath the humiliation of such a position; but have hastened to him at once, and perhaps been Evelyn was not endowed with either. Hers was spared the torments of the last few hours. But I the tempestuous sorrow which trifles gradually was unwilling to deprive you of the enjoyment you alleviate, not the mighty overwhelming misery anticipated so eagerly, and hoped you would, at which the grave relieves. Her hours were marked your own suggestion, accompany me home to-mor- by passionate weeping, or sullen composure; they row. It was willed otherwise, and my presence brought her neither self-knowledge, nor the resigthere shall trouble you no longer. Arthur is in nation which is wisdom. She blamed alternately affectionate care, and I do not wish to render more her own folly, and Mordante's severity; but the grievous that loneliness of heart you deplore. latter was not unexpected; she had incurred it not When my child has sufficiently recovered, he will in ignorance; she had known from the first that be removed to another home, and you will be at her husband, noble and high-principled himself, liberty to select your own companions. Rest as- had no patience with the weakness, nor indulgence sured that I shall not hereafter interfere with your for the errors of others. She could complain of friendships. As soon as my engagements will no injustice; deceived and trifled with, as Morpermit, I intend going abroad, perhaps for years. dante had been, he had consulted her comfort in I leave you in pity, rather than anger; and the only wish I now feel with regard to you, is an earnest hope, that for both our sakes, we may never meet again."

Exhausted by emotions so new and terrible, Evelyn wept herself to sleep; and the next day was far advanced, before she awoke from that slumber of despair. The cloak Mordante had adjusted was still around her, and her ball dress seemed strangely at variance with her paleness and haggard expression. Her hair, uncurled and tangled, was put back from a forehead on which trouble had imprinted the sadness of time. Slowly, and with the lassitude of a mind tried beyond its strength, she recalled the occurrences of the past night. They appeared to have happened long ago; she could not realize an alteration in her lot so sudden. To the young, change seems necessarily the task of time; it takes many years of experience in grief, to teach us how often the most important vicissitudes of existence are the work of a few hours-how a single instant may form a strong contrast, between what has been, and what is!

all his arrangements for the future-he had taken from her only the confidence and the love she had wronged. Even with her faint sense of right, Evelyn could not doubt the loftiness of his metives; he had never seemed to her, in the flush and fulness of his affection, half so worthy of reverence, as now, in the coldness of scornful compassion. Several days passed; she learned from the attendants that Arthur's illness had increased, and that his father had been sent for. Unconsciously she cherished the hope that Mordante's feelings might have softened; that the violence of his emotions might have left him kinder thoughts, and she would even yet be trusted and forgiven. This dream deepened to a belief, and during the three days he spent by the side of his child, Evelyn listened with feverish anxiety for his well-knowa step; but she listened in vain. At length she was told Arthur's danger was over, and as soon as he could bear removal he was to return home with Edith; that Mr. Mordante was going abroad immediately, and intended leaving there the following morning. As the moments dragged on without Evelyn had no energy left, even for tears, when bearing the pined-for meeting, this last hope deshe reached her lonely home. There were no serted her; she dared not risk the additional bebright faces to smile her welcome-no gay voices miliation of seeking an interview which would be to grow sweeter at her coming; all was silent and useless, and all the tumult of contending impulses cheerless. Instructed by a letter from Mordante overwhelmed her again. The carriage which was of all that had taken place, Miss Courtney was to convey her husband from the home she had prepared for the lady's return; and after a brief in-made so gloomy, waited at the door. She heard terview, embarrassing to them both, Evelyn re- his tremulous farewell to his child, and the boy's tired to her apartment, and Edith to her station passionate exclamations of grief. Then Mordante's beside the sick bed of her little charge. Evelyn parting words to Edith, fell coldly on her ear: dared not approach the child's room; her husband's "Let Arthur write to me regularly. God will command that he should not be contaminated by bless you, Edith, for your kindness to my desolate her presence, was not to be disobeyed. She heard child." Evelyn watched him from her window. the soft steps of the attendants as they moved he departed without one backward glance; the lightly in the chamber of sickness-she caught the carriage rolled rapidly away; and long years of weak voice of the boy in his murmurs of pain and change, and solitude, and suffering went by, bet re delirium; and she, the mistress of that mansion, the wife saw that face, or heard that voice aga the promised guardian of that child, was alone and unheeded, pitied and avoided by the very menials

Washington Gity.

JANE T. LOMAL

TO MY SISTER ADELA.

Sweet sister, there's a quiet vale
Near to my forest home,
Where frosty wind, and stormy gale,

And tempest cannot come;

Where dew-drops lie from morn to night
Amongst the joyous flow'rs,
And sunbeams dance in dreamy light
Within the odorous bowers.

Oft, mid this valley's garlands dim

At the meek hour of pray'r,
I've blent my vesper with the hymn
That birds were chanting there.
Adela, there's a Willow tree

Amongst that valley's bowers,
Beside a spring that gushes free
As joy in girlhood's hours;

And oft I bless that Willow's lot
When care my bosom wrings;
It grows in such a lovely spot,
Among such blessed things.

But late I sat beneath its shade

While gentle winds pass'd by, And lo! the Willow droop'd her head And murmur'd plaintively.

High on a rugged mountain near,

With stately seeming form,
There grows a Pine that year by year
Does battle with the storm.

And thus to it, the Willow said,
"Oh highly favor'd tree!
Heaven's purest light is on thee shed,
Would I were blest like thee.

High o'er the mighty mountain's crest
Thou wav'st thy banner fair,
The royal eagle loves thy breast

And rears her fledglings there.

The clouds that o'er the valley meet,
And wrap noon-day in night,
Roll in bright waves beneath thy feet,
While all above is bright.

And when in winter's reign of death
My foliage all is riven,

More glorious green, thy living wreath
Will beckon on to heaven."

The Pine inclin'd her plumy head
Above the verdant vale,
And listen'd while the Willow said
Her discontented wail.

Then with an air of tender woe
She shook her head and sigh'd,
And with an accent soft and low

Thus pleadingly replied:

"Thou wouldst not wish, my sister dear, This rocky height to share,

If thou couldst know how lone and drear
These mountain-summits are;

Rich shades, and balm of dewy flow'rs,
Are all around thee thrown;
While on these bleak eternal tow'rs
My shadow lies alone.

With thee the song birds make their home,
And hymn their richest lay;
While unto me their warblings come

Like echoes, far away.

And who would wish the Eagle's brood

To dwell within her breast;

Do they not make their feast of blood,
And strew with bones, their nest?

The spirit of the burning noon
Lies fierce upon my form;
And all unshelter'd and alone
I bide the mountain storm.

I dearly love the summer bowers,
With all their glorious things;
Yet these bare summits have no flow'rs,
Sweet birds, or living springs.

And sister, He who plac'd me here,
Gave thee that shelter'd spot;
Each fills her own appropriate sphere,
Well fitted for her lot.

Shouldst thou in thy rich home repine
For this bleak rocky tower;

Or I bend from this throne of mine
And envy thee thy bower?

Though thou may'st fancy that my boughs
Bathe in heaven's purer light,

Yet sister, Omnipresence knows
No difference in our height."
Adela! thou art skill'd to hear
The voices of the wood;
Then let us each adorn her sphere
By meekly doing good.

TEMPERANCE.

LYDIA JANE.

An Address read before the Temperance Society of William & Mary College by Beverley Tucker, Professor of Law. Published at the request of the Society.*

I regret, gentlemen, that my engagements have so long delayed the fulfilment of the duty to which you have been pleased to appoint me. My regret is proportioned to the interest I take in your association, and my desire to show myself not unworthy of the favorable opinion manifested in your selection of myself for that duty. But even now, I beg you to accept my congratulations on what you have done, and my thanks, on behalf of our venerable alma mater, for the service you have rendered to her.

It is not my purpose to expatiate on the evils of intemperance, or the general advantages of temperance societies. Were I so inclined, I should find myself forestalled by innumerable publications, in which every argument has been exhausted, every exhortation urged, every anecdote collected.

I

*We have departed from our rule in giving a place to the above Address; but as the duties of the learned author have, of late years, rendered his contributions like "angels' visits," we would fain woo him again into our columns.-[Ed. Mess.

have no mind to steal the thoughts, or to repeat has every inducement to resist temptation, and the words of other men, or to state facts, however struggle to reclaim himself; and, if he basely striking, on doubtful evidence. It is in bad taste shrinks from the effort, he betakes himself to seto put forth statements which stagger the faith of cret drinking, and endeavors to hide his shame the hearer; and exhortations which urge too strongly from his companions. the sluggish zeal, are apt to "return void" to him I am far, gentlemen, very far from considering that utters them. The credulous simplicity that an academic life as one of extraordinary danger to so often characterizes the best men, sometimes be- the habits and morals of youth. It has its trials trays them into indiscretions which injure the cause indeed, but they are trials to which all men are to they advocate. Guileless themselves, they appre-be sooner or later exposed, and which most men hend no guile in others; and, in perfect sincerity encounter under circumstances far more disadvanof heart, relate, as unquestionable, every anecdote tageous. The man whose first acquaintance with they find in circulation. So too the intemperate the exhilarating glass is made, when it offers itself zeal, with which some men advocate the cause of as an antidote to the corroding cares of his more temperance, and urge on others the example of advanced life, is sorely tried. It comes to soothe their own tastes and habits, sometimes provokes the anguish of.a bruised spirit, and he receives it reaction. Men are reminded of the exhortation of as a friend. It stretches forth a hand to lift him the Apostle," to be temperate in all things;" and from the abyss of despair, and he clutches it with It comes to they feel, that, in the example of those who are the eagerness of a drowning man. so, there is a beauty that needs no eloquence to deaden the sense of present suffering, to blot out recommend it. from his mind the memory of the irreparable past, Let me not be suspected of undervaluing tem- and to blind him to the fearful approach of the inperance societies, or their labors in the cause of evitable future. He has indeed been told that death human happiness and virtue. Few men perhaps is in the cup, and that in the end it will surely agestimate them more highly: none prize them more. gravate the ills it proposes to alleviate. But be As a matter of taste, intemperance is not more dis-does not know this, and having nothing else to gusting to any man on earth, than myself. As a hope for, he hopes this may not be true. Buried moral evil, no man looks upon it with more abhor-in solitude; hiding his afflictions from the common As an enemy to peace, order, intelligence, eye; why should he suffer, when the Comforter is industry, and all the elements of prosperity, no man at hand, whose cheering influence may lighten his deems it more deserving of restraint and censure. afflictions? In the night he tosses on his bed; his But it is superfluous to dwell on truths denied by pillow is wet with tears; and sleepnone who are not deaf to the teachings of reason and experience.

rence.

"Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleeve of care;

Balm of hurt minds," denies her balm to him. Of the general evils of intemperance therefore, I When there is none to pity, none to soothe, and do not propose to speak, nor shall I offer more none to censure, shall he forbear to steep his than a passing remark on that worst form which senses in forgetfulness with the oblivious draught the deadly mischief ever can assume; when, like that courts his lip? Happy! happy he, whose the canker-worm, it insinuates itself into the bud first struggle with this temptation is not postponed of the youthful mind, and eats the core, and for- till the authority of parents and tutors and the inever arrests its farther development. I should fluence of generous emulation are no more, and till be uncandid, gentlemen, did I pretend to think that the petty troubles that do but dim the sunshine of many of you had been in actual danger, of this youth, are exchanged for that deep midnight of the awful destiny. The dissipations of a college- mind, which no ray of hope can penetrate, and life, are rarely attended with such a result. The which despair peoples with the fiends, and lights very associations that tempt collegians to irregu-up with the fires of hell.

larity, are restraints on any disposition to habitual Gentlemen; if I were called on to say wherein intemperance. Instances of young men who con- consists the chief advantage of an academic educatract, at college, that degrading habit, which sinks tion, I should place it precisely here. Speaking from man to the level of the brute, are quite rare. It is the experience of a life, of which nearly half has too revolting to the self-respect and pride of cha- been spent in connexion with this institution, I am racter, always so conspicuous among young gen- satisfied that it teaches nothing so valuable as selftlemen assembled together at such a place. This knowledge, and the habits of self-command, selfand other powerful influences, are always in action respect, and self-confidence, which it is our study to restrain such as may be predisposed to intem- to establish in the mind of the student. I think I perance. The unfortunate youth, sees that he is may speak as well for my brother-professors as for forfeiting all claim to academic honors: he finds myself, when I say, that never do we feel so sure himself cast out of refined society; and perceives that our labors will not be in vain, as when we see that he is sinking into contempt, even with those that the minds of our young friends are awakened who sometimes participate in his excesses. He to a sense of the value of these things.

Little does he know of life, who is not aware | evils that await its errors, it is the office of acathat its sorest trials, its most formidable dangers, demic discipline to supply. Experience is the are to be encountered in the struggle with our own only school of practical wisdom, and it is proverpassions. These are the fiery steeds that drag the bially a dear school. To him who takes his first chariot which youth is so eager to mount, and lessons after he has arrived at that time of life, which is to bear us all, whether we will or no, when mistakes are visited with loss of character through all the burning signs of the zodiac of life's and loss of fortune, it is dear indeed. Then the eventful day. Like the son of Clymene, all of us protecting disabilities of the law are removed: have to pass between the threatening horns of the then the responsibility of the father is withdrawn; bull, and the bloody jaws of the lion, and the long then the sympathy with which men look on the ensnaring arms of the poisonous scorpion. Each of us must contend, as best he may, with the eager spirit of the winged steeds that stand impatiently pawing at the barrier, and filling the air with the fiery breath of their neighings. Alas! how many are there, whose eagerness to enter on this perilous career, is, like that of Phæton, exactly propor- He bears the unpitying blast on every side;" tioned to their incompetency to its tasks and dan- and when he would retrieve his error, there is gers! To what destiny it shall lead, depends on none to guide his footsteps through the labyrinth in the firmness and skill of the hand that holds the which he is involved. Where shall he find the reins. Whether we shall plod heavily along, un- unquestionable sincerity of a father's advice? where noticed to the goal; whether we shall set fire to the stern fidelity of a tutor's admonitions? Who the earth, leaving a track of seared desolation to now will take the trouble to understand his affairs; perpetuate a curse on our memory; whether we to think for him; to watch over him; to supply the shall impiously war against heaven, and provoke defects of his knowledge; to counsel his inexpeGod's thunders to strike us down in mid career; rience; to rebuke his follies; to restrain his wayor, mounting up on the wings of the morning, shall wardness; to soothe, and cheer, and reanimate his run our bright course along the appointed path of wounded spirit? usefulness and duty, blest of God, and a blessing to the world, depends on ourselves.

errors of youth, no longer pleads for him; then the paternal roof no longer affords shelter to the erring prodigal; and the respectability of a father's name is no longer a screen, behind which the disgrace of the son can lie hid, until it is forgotten.

At what hazard does he enter on this dangerous journey of life, who, kept in strict irresponsible pupilage, to the very hour that suddenly establishes him in all the prerogatives of manhood, has the reins of self-government for the first time committed to his unpractised hand. What father does not tremble, as he utters the last admonitions which are to prepare his son for the dangers he is about to encounter? What father does not wish that the days of pupilage could be yet a little while prolonged? What father's heart does not echo the tender expostulations, the touching appeals of Apollo to his impatient and ambitious son? How earnestly does he wish that a small portion of parental authority might still be allowed him; an authority to advise, if not to command-to censure, if not to condemn to restrain, if not to control-to rebuke, if not to punish. But no. The fatal hour has come; the wand of authority is broken; the word of power is hushed; and the impatient youth, impatient by reason of his prolonged pupilage, rushes unprepared to the exercise of all the rights, and the enjoyment of all the privileges, and (as he fondly imagines) the pleasures of manhood, and absolute freedom.

"In naked helplessness, and aching pride,

These considerations have long since led me to the conviction, that there is decided benefit to the student in a system of discipline, that leaves him, for the most part, the regulator of the details of his college life. The responsibilities under which he assumes, to a certain extent, the guardianship of his own morals, and the formation of his own habits, afford a reasonable security, that he will be faithful to himself in the dicharge of this important task. Entrusted with a considerable portion of personal independence, before he has learned to be impatient of restraint, and restive under authority, a slight admonition, a hint at reproof, are often enough to keep him in the path of duty, while, at the same time, he is left to feel himself free, and to enjoy the success of his struggle against temptation, as a triumph achieved by himself.

In these struggles, and in these triumphs, is one of the most important parts of education. They teach self-command: they inspire self-confidence, and self-respect, and these make the Man. Idleness and dissipation are the serpents that steal into the cradle of infant genius; and, in his strife with these, is the first trial-the first exercise of his fortitude and prowess. He strangles the enemies that seek to destroy him there, and thenceforward he treads upon the adder and the asp unharmed.

Gentlemen; that season of preparation which In your association, gentlemen, I see an instance the anxious father wishes thus to employ-that of this hateful and destructive as intemperance mitigated authority which would exercise the un- is, the security that you have provided for yourpractised youth in his first essays at the duties of selves against that disgusting vice, owes its chief manhood, without exposing him to the irreparable value to the fact, that it is devised, established, and

consecrated by yourselves. The prudence that | A fire that warms, but burns not; a pleasing pang, detected your danger-the practical wisdom that whose agony delights: a sylph-like form, that adopted the remedy, are both deserving praise; but spreads its gossamer-wing in the eye of beauty. what are these in comparison with the resolution that adopted, and the fortitude and manliness that sustain you in it?

I am aware that some, not remarkable for profundity of thought, are pleased to deride the idea of the good that comes by the experience of evil. To such the wisdom of the Creator, in preparing man for the holiness and happiness of heaven, by his sojourn in this vale of sin and sorrow, may look like absurdity. To me it seems to present an instructive example, of which they, who are called to aid him in his great work of preparing the hearts and minds of his creatures for his service, would do well to avail themselves.

"Satan desires to have us all, that he may sift us as wheat;" and it is in that sore trial that the character acquires the strength and consistency which the Saviour sought to establish in the chosen disciple whom he had just before selected and planted as the corner-stone of his church on earth. The beginning of wisdom is self-knowledge. It awakens to repentance. It is the guide to reformation. Perceiving our errors "we are cleansed from secret faults," to which self-love might have blinded us to the end. The lessons taught in this severe school, are infinitely various, and suited to all the infinite variety of human character. To each man they teach that which it is most important that he should know. To humble, unpretending merit, they impart self-respect, encouraging it to emerge from obscurity, and signalize itself in the tasks of virtue and usefulness. To rash presumption, they administer rebukes that admonish it to hide its insufficiency behind the semblance of modesty. They teach confidence to the strong, and prudence to the weak; and, at the same time, they apply to both the salutary discipline of opinion, which prescribes forbearance to the one, and inspires the other with a sense of security.

Gentlemen; it is common to speak of youth as the season when the passions are most intense. I neither affirm nor deny this. It may or may not

be so.

and feeds on the balmy sighs of hope, and is chilied and dissipated by the cold breath of indifference. I am aware that I am here treading on dangerou ground, and may provoke a spirit of opposition to all I have advanced, or may advance. I dare say there are few among you, who have not alrea dy conceived a passion, which, to him that feels it, seems immortal. Few arrive at full manhood, without having contracted a disease of the heart, which the victim expects to carry to his grave. And why not? Who would not die so sweet 1 death? How can the passion cease, when be hugs it to his bosom as the joy, not the torment, of his life? The thing is impossible. But when Coquetry throws aside her mask; when the art that was employed to ensnare the suitor, is no le ger exerted to retain the disregarded lover; "when nods and becks and wreathed smiles," are exchanged for slighting neglect-what then? What though the "Sapphire's blaze may cease to shine" beside the eye of Phillis-what though it is "jet black, and like a hawk, and winna let a body be!" Is there not something more touching, more teder, in the dewy glance that steals from the baf transparent lid of Chloe's, "like the clear blue sky. just trembling through a cloud of purest white," as if a violet peeped out from beneath a new-falen snowflake? Is there no reaction in offended selflove, to kindle resentment, and suggest the thought "If she be not fair for me,

What care I how fair she be?"

Is there nothing in the testimony of the flattering mirror to remind the graceful youth, that if she wont, another will? In short, whatever be the force of youthful passion, is there nothing in the versatility of youth to divert its energy, or ei the destroying blow? Who would sacrifice health, honor, peace of mind, self-respect, or ever the cold sense of duty, for any one object, whes surrounded by ten thousand others, all lawful, 2within reach, all glittering with the dews of life's young morning, all sparkling in its rosy light! That their ebullitions are then most fre- Gentlemen; the passage from childhood to 150 quent and conspicuous, I doubt not. Not regu- is the transition from the belief that all is brigat lated by experience, not restrained by reason, and beautiful and good, to the conviction that a youth, given up to absolute independence and self- vanity. In this transition, the passions, one by command, rarely exhibits any thing but instances one, wither and perish, as the worthlessness of of degrading and mischievous self-indulgence. their respective objects is made manifest by expe But, even in such cases, we seldom find that any rience. But the desire of happiness one passion takes the entire mastery of the whole the heart, as eagerly as ever, asks, "who wa Ambition fights against debauchery: the show it any good?" Thus the force of each exlove of pleasure against the love of money. Vanity piring passion is distributed among those which struggles with sloth; and Love, the most active survive, until at last, when only one remains, that and seducing of the whole, rebukes every thing one burns with all the intensity of all the rest that is degrading, and stimulates to all that is The difference between him who has lived to k graceful and honorable. And Love itself! what is that there is nothing good under the sun, and it in the young heart just awakened to its influence? who has but ascertained the worthlessness of

man.

remains, and

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