A

certainty to the completion of my fortune.descend on his eyelids-the pillow brings no tremulous hand, I raised the latch of the door' During all this time, I had maintained the relief to his aching head-his bed is a bed of and entered the little parlor where I had most regular correspondence with my friends thorns, and night to him is but a season of passed so many happy hours-it was lone and at the north, and in particular with Lucy soul-harrowing agony. In vain does he deserted, but the same familiar objects met Dayton. In my letters to her, I had omitted attempt to philosophise on the utter worth- my eyes as formerly-nay, the family bible nothing of what had happened to me-I had lessness of riches-the voice of reason is lay open on the little table, and the chair stood made her acquainted with every change of my drowned in the still deeper voice of despair at the side as when I last saw them. fortunes-with my gradual but sure success, In this way I lingered several months, till my feeling of alarm came over my mind-I and finally with the flattering prospects before health was sadly reduced, and reason began staggered to the chair and sunk into it. The me-nor did I fail to assure her of my to totter on her throne. My creditors per-door opened at the noise, and I saw-not undiminished affection, and in return to ceiving my calamitious situation, and convin- Lucy, but a stranger enter the room. I receive similar assurances from her. ced of my honest intentions, now generously inquired for the mother of Lucy; for as yet came forward and granted me a full discharge I could not pronounce her name. In a few from their debts. This afforded a relief from minutes the mother entered, leaning on the my present difficulties, and rendered me arm of an attendant. Her countenance was.

Time flew on, and I became more and more immersed in business-riches poured in upon me, and it seemed only necessary to stretch out my hand to receive them. The period comparatively happy. But I had not the heart || pale and care-worn her footsteps faltering;

to commence my labors anew-in truth I was
a broken man as well as a bankrupt merchant.
In this dilemma I resolved on returning home,
poor as I was, and to abandon all my ambitious
projects. The world to me was a dreary
waste-a desert without a solitary green spot
but that on which I was born. There, I well
knew, I should be received as kindly, and
with as sincere a welcome, as if I had returned
in a coach and four, and she who had plighted
to me her youthful faith, I was equally
assured, would be found as unalterably mine
as when I left her, though years had now
passed since that event.

and she looked towards me with an anxious, inquiring glance, which plainly indicated that she did not recognise me.

'Do you not know me,' I exclaimed, ''tis I—your son-where-where is Lucy!'

My son my son she cried, in an agonizing tone, and fell into my arms. Oh,

was now arrived, when I considered myself sufficiently wealthy to return to my native village in the style I had originally contemplated. I set myself sedulously to work, therefore, in winding up my business, and in making my arrangements to retire from it altogether. In this section of the country, the spirit of cotton-speculation was at its I knew you would return,' she continued in height-thousands were realizing fortunes in wild accents; 'I knew that you would come; a day by the purchase and sale of that and I prayed that it might be so before this commodity. I looked on at first an indifferent affliction; her last words were your name, spectator, and wondered at the temerity and and she said that she did but go before you, success of adventurers. At length a neighbor and that she should meet you in Heaven! of mine who had doubled his fortune by a Oh, she died as an angel would die.' I heard successful operation in the cotton market, It was on a clear summer's evening that no more; my senses, which at the first were proposed that we should join in an extensive the stage-coach drew up near the village, and only stunned by the blow, were now completemonopoly of the article; by which, having ordering my trunks to be set down at the ly prostrated. It was many months before I bought up all that we could find far and near, tavern, I alighted to pursue my own way on recovered from the effects of this the severest we should sell out in a few days afterwards, foot. I walked on slowly and with a melan- of all my misfortunes. I then for the first at such an advance as we might choose to choly feeling, meditating upon the vicissitudes time learnt that Lucy had taken a slight cold hold it at. Such was the scheme presented of my fortune. and the delusiveness of my not long before my return, but from a second for my consideration, and so plausible and youthful day dreams. I thought too of the exposure it was increased, and soon brought tempting was it, that in an evil hour my usual kind reception I should meet with from her on a slow fever-that during this fever she circumspection and judgment deserted me, who had waited so long in fond expectation had often inquired if there were any letters and I was prevailed upon to embark in it. of my coming. As yet she knew not the from me-that the repeated disappointments We proceeded at once upon the execution of extent of my misfortunes, for I had not the to these inquiries appeared to wear upon her the scheme and in a few days were the holders heart to apprise her of it—indeed, for the last mind, and that finally she became quite delir-s of cotton to double the amount of our joint month or more I had omitted altogether ious, and in this condition breathed her last,” property. We had already commenced selling writing her, so completely was I a prey to expressing a confidence, seeming like reality, at a large advance, and every thing promised despondency, and so occupied in the melan-that she should meet me in heaven. complete success to our enterprise, when, by choly task of effecting a settlement of my an arrival from Liverpool, it was announced shipwrecked affairs. I now approached the that cottons had fallen there a half-penny on house, or rather the cottage, for such it might the pound. Trifling as may seem this decline, truly be called, where dwelt the object of my the effect of it was such as immediately to affections. The honey-suckle clustered round cause an utter depression of the market the door and windows, the same as when I Cottons could not be disposed of at any price! had last beheld it, only that it presented a Here then was the death of all my hopes-more wild and luxuriant appearance. In all-all dashed to the ground in one fell former days it was the favorite pastime of moment-the labor of years lost and worse Lucy to cultivate this vine and to train its than lost-for penury and imprisonment stared me in the face, and I, who but yesterday was rolling in wealth, was now plunged into the abyss of despair. Oh! who can tell the excess of his misery, who experiences so great and sudden a reverse of fortune! How many a long restless night does he pass, meditating upon his loss! Sleep refuses to

These are the outlines of a few brief but eventful years of my history. My health was so impaired after this last affliction, that, meeting with a favorable opportunity to travel abroad as a companion for a young friend, I availed myself of it—and now after the lapse of ten years, have I recently returned. I am now quietly settled down at the homestead, and although not a melancholy man, yet I am somewhat of a meditative and sober cast of mind, tendrils along the front of the house so as to and much given to reflections on the works impart to it a singularly beautiful appearance of nature, and fond of the simplicity of a counthe white paint showing itself at intervals try life. From the scenes and manners before through the deep green foliage, but now theme, I have drawn a few sketches, and will envine wholly overshadowed the wall, and not a deavor to fill them up and lay them before your speck of light was visible through it—so dark readers; but for the present I am afraid I shall and gloomy did it appear, that it seemed to be thought of too sombre a mood to describe me ominous of some calamity. With aany thing lively, and I will therefore conclude,

Theresa.

BY MISS L. E. LANDON.

[Concluded.]

HE is come, my mother!' exclaimed Theresa, bounding one evening into the cottage, with a long unaccustomed lightness of heart and step. Though eager to spring down the path to meet him, yet amid all the forgetfulness of joy, she had bethought her of her aged parent, and returned that she too might share the happiness of their meeting. They hurried out, and three horsemen were riding up the valley-one much in advance of the others.

Mother, it is a stranger! with difficulty articulated Theresa, and, sick at heart, clung to her arm for support.'

The rider was full in sight, when with a shrick that roused her daughter, Ursaline exclaimed, 'Now the Blessed saints be good unto us, but it is my old master, I know him

My child! my sweet child!' and he gazed long and earnestly on her beautiful face.

Your father, the baron Von Haitzinger,' murmured Ursaline.

But as our explanation will be more brief than one broken in upon by words of wonder, regret and affection, we will proceed to it; holding that explanation like advice, should be of all convenient shortness. So much good luck had the Baron Von Haitzinger had during the first thirty years of his life, that fortune, seemed under the necessity of crowding an inordinate portion of evil into a small space, in order to make up for lost time. The same day brought him intelligence of his wife's desertion, and of his attaintment as a traitor; and further, that this accusation had been chiefly brought about by the intrigues of his former partner.

she would grow up pure and unsophisticated || every experience brought by reading or
as the wild flowers on the heath, beside her conversation, but served to show her more
dwelling. Ursaline gave the required oaths fully the difficulty of her position.
of secresy, and took the charge.

Years and years of exile had passed over the Baron's head; his wife had died-that was some comfort; and at length, a new Emperor, together with the indefatigable efforts of his friend, Von Hermstadt, procured the establishment of his innocence, the repeal of his banishment, and the restoration of his estate. His first act was to throw himself at the feet of his gracious Sovereign, his second to depart in search of his child.

Love is the destiny of a woman's life, and hers had been sealed on the threshold of her existence; it was too late now to change the color or alter the past. Theresa's greatest enjoyment was to wander through the lonely garden; though the leaf and the flower could never more be to her what they had been, still, when alone, they aided her in recalling the days when they were mute witnesses to vows which had the common fate of being kept but by one. The difference between herself and those of her own age consisted in this, that they looked to the future, she dwelt upon the past; they hoped, she only remembered.

We have stated, it was the Baron's wish that Theresa should be brought up in ignorance and simplicity; but as usually happens when our wishes are fulfilled, he was disap- The young Countess' instructors were loud pointed and somewhat dismayed on finding in their praises of her docility and progress ; that she could not even read; and that instead the French Governess remarking, Madeof French, now the only language tolerated at moiselle est pleine des talens et des graces ; Vienna, and which alone he had spoken for||mais elle est si triste et si silencieuse.' years-his exile having been alleviated by a constant residence at Paris-his child was unable to greet him save in the gutturals of her native German. Aghast at the ridicule the result of the experiment might entail upon him, he hurried to his family estate; here, having engaged a French governess and a professor of singing he resolved to keep Theresa in perfect seclusion two years longer. Somewhat reluctantly Ursaline accompanied them, for her dread of their secret being discovered, almost overcame her distress at the bare thought of her foster child.

The Baron will kill us if he hears of your marriage-and yet I did it for the best; thought he must be dead, and I knew you ought to marry none but a noble. Who could have thought Count Adalbert, would prove so false-hearted?'

Such were the constant lamentations of the old nurse when they were alone; but the secret she had to keep was too much for her; and six weeks after leaving the cottage. Ursaline was safe from Von Haitzinger's anger in the grave.

Theresa wept for her long and bitterly: many sorrows took the semblance of one. Treated as a child, offered the amusements and the rewards of a child, when her heart was full A price being set on a man's head, usually of the grief and care of a woman-hourly she makes him very speedy in his movements; was more and more thrown upon herself. and the Baron fled from his castle with the Her father, who considered every moment lost rapidity of life and death, but not unaccom- which was not given to the pursuit of educapanied. Wrapt in his mantle he bore with tion, debarred himself from her society. It him their only child, a little girl of two years was a sacrifice, but to Theresa it appeared old. As boys, he and the Count Von choice; and he thus repelled the confidence Hermstadt had often hunted in the forests which kindness and a familiar intercourse around Aremberg; his own foster-sister had might have encouraged. She soon took an married one of the dependants of the family; interest in the employments selected for her and to the care of Ursaline, now a window, they served to divert her attention from a he resolved to entrust his Theresa. Never remembrance that grew continually more should she owe her nature to her mother-no, painful. Every step she gained in knowledge,

The two years passed, and Theresa was to accompany her father to Vienna. The Baron Von Haitzinger, who had never quite recov ered the shock that his daughter could only speak German and could neither read nor write, was utterly unprepared for the sensations she produced on her introduction into society. Theresa at twenty more than realised the promise of seventeen; yet it is singular how much the character of her beauty was changed. She had been a glad, bright, buoyant creature, with a cheek like a rose, a mouth radiant with smiles, and the golden curls dancing in sunny profusion over the blushes they shaded. Now her hair and eyes were much darker, her cheek was pale, and the general cast of her face melancholy and thoughtful; her stept was still light but slowit was urged on no longer by inward buoyancy; and if a painter three years before, would have chosen her as a model for the youngest of the Graces, he would now have selected her for the loveliest of the Muses-so ethereal, so intellectual, was that sad and expressive countenance. Her father was charmed with the self-possession of her manner-the perfection of beautiful repose; true, it was broken in upon, by none of the flatterings of girlish vanity, none of the slight, yet keen, excitements of a season given to gaiety.

The Countess was wholly indifferent to the scene that surrounded her to its pleasure and its triumph; she had a standard of her own by which she measured enjoyment, and found that what was here deemed pleasure, by others, to be vapid and worthless; and now, more than ever, the image of Adalbert rose present to her mind. She compared him with the many cavaliers about her; and the comparison was, as it ever is, in favour of the heart's earliest idol. Even when unconsciously yielding to the influence exercised

by light, music and a glittering crowd, Theresa would start back, and muse on what might be the fate of Adalbert at that very moment; for|| with a confidence belonging to youth and woman, she admitted any suggestion, rather than the obvious one of his inconstancy. Two or three brilliant conquests, cost her a sleepless night and a pale cheek; but as her father always acquiesced in a prompt refusal, she gradually became happy in a belief that he did not desire her marriage.

One evening all Vienna was assembled at a re-union given by the French Ambassador. Dazzling with jewels, and looking her very loveliest, Theresa was seated beside the lady who accompanied her, when her eye suddenly rested on Adalbert. A dense crowd was between them, but the platform on which he was standing enabled him to see over their heads; and he was evidently gazing on her. With a faint cry, she half started from her seat-fortunately she was unobserved; and again sinking back in her chair, she endeavored to collect her scattered spirits from their first confusion of surprise and delight. Her astonishment had yet to be increased. The Baron appeared on the scene, greeted the stranger most cordially, and arm in arm they descended among the throng. At intervals she caught sight of his splendid uniform, it came nearer and nearer, at last they emerged from the very ocean of velvet and plumes, and her father addressed her :

Theresa, my love! I am most anxious to present you to the nephew of my oldest friend, Prince Ernest Von Hermstadt.'

Adalbert, or Ernest, bowed most admiringly it is true, but without the slightest token of recognition. Faint, breathless, Theresa sought in vain to speak.

'You look pale my child,' said her father; 'the heat is too much for you. Do, Ernest, try to make your way with her to the window, and I will get a glass of water.'

They remained together the rest of the and Theresa again listened to the avowal of evening, and the Prince Von Hermstadt handed her to the Baron's carriage.

his love. But now the voice was low and broken, and he spoke mournfully and hopelessly; for in the same hour in which he owned his passion for the Countess, he also acknowledge to her his marriage with the peasant.

'What do you think of my young favorite?' asked her father, as they entered their abode. But I hate all unnecessary mysteries, so shall tell you at once, that in Prince Ernest Ernest had, in truth been spoilt by circumyou see your destined husband; you have stances; his conquests had been too easy, been betrothed from your birth. This and he had mistaken vanity and interest for however, is no time to talk over family love. But a deep and true feeling elevates matters, for you look fatigued to death.

Theresa retired to her chamber, her head dizzy with surprise and sorrow. She had gleaned enough from the conversation to discover that Ernest's absence from his country had been entirely voluntary; that she had known him under a feigned name; therefore, from the very first he had been deceiving her. Strange that till this moment her heart had never admitted the belief of his falsehood! As she paced her room she caught sight of her whole-length figure in the glass; then rose upon her memory her own reflection as she had seen it shadowed in the river, near her early home, and the change in herself struck her forcibly.

and purifies the heart into which it enters. His passion for Theresa brought back his better nature; and he now bitterly deplored the misery he must have caused the young and forsaken creature, whose happiness he had destroyed by such thoughtless cruelty. The sacrifice I now make may well be held an atonement.'

He turned to leave the gallery as he spoke, but Theresa's voice arrested his steps.

I have long known your history, Prince Ernest-long looked for this confession. Your wife is now in the Castle; I will prepare her for an interview; from her you must seek your pardon.'

She was gone before Vou Hermstadt 'I marvel not that he knew me not?—it were recovered his breath. It would be vain to say far greater marvel had he known me.'

She looked long and earnestly in the mirror; a rich color rose to her cheek and the light flashed from her eyes.—

'What if I could make him love me now? and then let him feel only the faintest pain of what I have felt ?-But the last words were so softly uttered that they sounded like any thing rather than a denunciation of revenge.

The next day and the next saw Ernest a constant visitor; and Theresa, in vain sought to hide from herself the truth, that she felt a keen pleasure in observing how much more suitable her new self was to her former lover.Then they had nothing, now they had so much in common with each other; they read together, they talked together; and Hermstadt was delighted with the melancholy and thoughtful style of her conversation.

what were his thoughts during the succeeding minutes; shame, surprise-something, too, of pity, blended with regret. He had not moved from the spot, when the Countess's page put a note into his hand.

I do not wish to let my father know all yet; join us at the end of the accacia wood— your wife there awaits your arrival.

THERESA.' The Prince obeyed the summons mechanically-as in dreams we obey some strange power. A sharp angle in the walk brought him, before he was aware, to the place; and there, as tho' he had just parted from her, stood his wife, leaning for support against the old oak. She wore the scarlet cap broidered with fur, the grey stuff dress and the plaited apron; her beautiful profile was half turned towards him.

Theresa felt her hand drawn lightly through the arm to which she had so often clung, and the Prince with some difficulty conveyed her The summer was now advancing, and Herm- Theresa he whispered; when, starting to the window. There they stood alone for stadt proposed visiting the castle. Thither at the face, which was now completely given some minutes before the Baron could rejoin the whole party adjourned; the two elder to view, he exclaimed, 'Is it possible?' for them; yet not by word or sign did her com- Barons-for Ernest's Uncle had now joined he saw instantly that it was the Countess panion imply a previous knowledge. His them-leaving the young people almost entire-before him. manner was most gentle, most attentive; but ly to themselves. Here Theresa could not it was that of a perfect stranger. but perceive that Ernest grew daily more depressed: sometimes he would leave her abruptly, and she would afterwards learn that for hours he had been wandering alone.

Theresa drank the glass of water, and by a strong effort, recalled her presence of mind. She looked in Prince Ernest's face-it was no mistake; every feature of that striking countenance was too deeply treasured for forgetfulness. Her father, by continually addressing her, showed how anxious he was for her to join in the conversation. At last she trusted her voice with a few brief words; the Prince listened to them eagerly, but, it was evident, only with present admiration.

One evening, while walking in the old picture gallery, Theresa turned to admire the luxuriant growth of a parasitic plant, whose drooping white flowers hung in numberless fragrant clusters, Ernest approached to her side and they leant from the casement-both mute with the same emotion, tho' from different causes. Suddenly he broke silence,

'Yes Adalbert-or Ernest-by which name shall I claim you?' And the next moment she was in his arms.

Confession and forgiveness followed of course; though the Baron Von Haitzinger resolved that he would give no encouragement to his grand-daughters being brought up in unsophisticated seclusion, as it rarely happens that two experiments of the same kind turn out well. Still, it is but justice to state, that Theresa never had any further occasion to regret that her husband's heart was once lost and twice won.

COMMUNICATIONS.

For the Rural Repository.
John Q. Adams.

MR. EDITOR,

PERMIT One who knew the young gentleman whose name heads this article, to bestow a passing tribute to his worth. Several months have already elapsed since his death, but it is far from right that one so deserving the recollection of his friends, should speedily pass away from memory. Men are fond of building monuments over the ashes of the intellectually great, and it is right that they do so, but do they not err in their unqualified admiration of mind, and does not the grass often grow rankly over the grave of moral excellence unpressed by the stone which tells here lies the dead, but yet he lives in memory.'

reputation of religion, and injuring the cause || suffered to prey upon him in secret, till he

of virtue.

had reached the age of nine or ten, when upon As a man of mind, Mr. Adams was far perceiving one day a neighboring physician above the level of mediocrity. His judgment ride past the field where he was at work his was excellent, his intellect well stored with feelings were too powerfully excited to be theoretical and practical knowledge, he wrote longer restrained. He dropped his hoe with with ease and elegance, and possessed a very which he was laboring, resolved that his life agreeable delivery. The last years of his life as a farmer should end there-and going to were mainly employed in the office of a the residence of the physician, requested to distinguished advocate in the city of Hudson. be received as a student. This gentleman, There can be no doubt that he was qualified with a kindness and consideration which did to become a very respectable practitioner. him honor, expressed no surprize at the Not because he had aught of that cunning, that singular application; but after explaining to volubility of tongue, that brazen impudence the youthful aspirant his need of more knowlwhich distinguish so many hopeful scions of edge, in order to commence profitably the the bar, for he was ingenuous and retiring, but study of medicine, and advised him to return to if a mind of reasoning habits, unassuming his friends, if he could procure their consent, determination, an admiration, and increasing to devote himself to its acquisition. Soon knowledge of the law, render a young man after this incident, which seems to have given promising, then Mr. A. bade fair to success. a new complexion to all his views, he was But alas! he was interrupted in these placed with his elder brother the Rev. Samuel pursuits by a lingering consumption which, Nott, who for more than half a century has finally, terminated his life. He visited the been the respected and exemplary pastor of south, and retired, for a season, to his native the congregational Church in Franklin, Conn. town, but all these efforts were unfortunately While with him young Nott acquired a knowlof no avail. He sustained his sufferings, edge of the elements of Latin and Greek however, with much fortitude. Ever polite, made some progress in the Mathematics, and ever cheerful, no murmur of complaint escaped was finally employed as a teacher of the district him. We all remember the interesting school in the vicinity. It was, we believe, invalid, his form still erect and graceful, but when he was about sixteen or seventeen years his pale features bearing the impress of the old, that he took charge of a school in Plainhand of death.' And when at length he field, where the Rev. Mr. Benedict then disappeared from the living, it grieved, but resided; and from this excellent man, one the did not astonish us. It was the falling of a most accomplished of the scholars that then leaf the sun had been gradually withering; it adorned the ranks of the Connecticut clergy, was the setting of a star we had watched in its he received a most friendly and efficient aid. descent from the sky, and the last ray of whose To his counsel and encouragement, it is light we witnessed with tears, but not with understood, that Dr. Nott has always attributed wonder. Y. much of the rapid improvement which at this period of life he was enabled to make, and which in his twentieth year was rewarded by the first degree of the arts obtained at Brown University after a residence of only a few months. We have been informed that the present distinguished representative in Congress from Providence, (Mr. Burges,) was of the same class.

6

New Marlborough, August, 1833.

BIOGRAPHY.

Mr. J. Q. Adams was a person of moral, as well as mental worth. He possessed those qualities of heart without which genius is useless, and success in any profession uncertain, if not impossible. Amid all the trials to which he was subjected by a painful, and in the end, a fatal sickness, he exhibited a resolution, which would have been more valuable to him than rubies, if a gracious providence had preserved his life. It was not the uncurbed impetuosity of a fiery temperament, but the settled, calm, active principle of a well disciplined spirit. Not the least attractive trait in the character of my friend, was his constant amiability. With his fellow students, in his family and the social circle, he ever exhibited, the composure, the cheerfulness, the overflowing kindness of a benevolent heart. But more than this. They who knew Mr. Adams, knew a young man of high moral principle. Alas! in this day, such a character is enviable from its rarity.. Can we count the thousands of respectable, and promising young men, who present a fair From the Parthenon for July. exterior to the world, and possess exalted Rev. Doctor Nott. honor and honesty, but yet listen eagerly to President Nott was born in June, A. D. the calls of a groveling sensuality, and dance || 1773, in the town of Ashford, and State of among the maddest devotees of pleasure? Connecticut. It was his misfortune to be Oh! fools! fools! They may learn a lesson deprived, at an early age, of both his parents; from the savage of our wilderness, in his not, however, till his mind had received a contemptuous disregard of physical pleasure powerful impulse from the instructions of a or comfort when they embarrass his pursuit of gifted and pious mother. Under her tuition, fame or of revenge. They might have learned with the aid of that nursery of talent, the a still better lesson from the subject of this common school, his mind first imbibed the brief notice. Yet, though Mr. Adams stood love of letters, and the taste for independent aloof from the phrenzied throngs of the and original inquiry, which have distinguished dissipated and voluptuous, he was not one of his subsequent life. The hope of receiving a very different class, who have rushed into a liberal education seemed to be precluded the opposite extreme, and by pharisaical by the straitened circumstances of the family; pretensions to religious attainments, by a and had it not been for a desire of knowledge, denial of themselves in what is really useful too strong to be repressed, it is probable that and pleasing, by a sanctimonious front, on the subject of this sketch would have spent which may be read, in most legible characters. his days on the farm or in the workshop. It 'I am holier than thou,' are defacing the is said that this thirst of improvement was

Having thus obtained collegiate honors, Mr. Nott commenced his preparations for the ministry, being employed at the same time in teaching. In 1795, when about twenty-two years of age, he was licensed to preach, and having married Miss Benedict, a daughter of his friend and benefactor, he removed to the county of Otsego, New-York. After spending a year in missionary labors, he finally settled himself as pastor and principal of the Academy in Cherry Valley, then almost a wilderness. The eclat which this Academy soon after acquired under his auspices, and the number of students that crowded to it for admission, evince the ability which even then he possessed for the instruction of youth. In his clerical labors he was no less successful; and it soon

became apparent that his zeal and powers called for a wider theatre. Such a theatre presented itself at Albany, where in 1798 he was invited to take charge of the Presbyterian church. Here for six years he devoted himself with untiring assiduity, and with an ardor which nothing could repress, to the spiritual welfare of his people, and to the promotion of the great interests connected with literature and the public morals. His situation brought him into contact with the most distinguished men of the state, who being resident at Albany as the officers of the government, or called thither by professional and legislative engagements, were glad to cultivate his society, and enjoy his ministrations. It is believed that the six years spent by President Nott at Albany were among the most useful and important of his life.—Many living witnessess attest the fidelity with which he discharged the duties and the unprecedented rapidity with which he rose in power and popularity as a preacher. The impressious which were left by his argument in behalf of the truth of Chrirtianity, on the minds of some very eminent men who had hitherto doubted, are said to have been deep and permanent. It is said that to his counsels may be attributed some of the important measures which characterized the legislation of the state during that period.

In the spring of 1805, not long after the delivery of his celebrated discourse on the death of Hamilton, and but a very few months after the death of an estimable wife, he was invited to the Presidency of Union College. The infirm state of his health, as well as the prospects of usefulness which the invitation seemed to open, induced him to yield to the wishes of the public; and he accordingly requested a dismission from his people. Having received it, coupled however, with the most affecting expressions of regret, he came to this place, where he found the College with but fourteen students-its funds exhaustedits buildings unfinished—and all its operations embarrassed by debt and despondence. His first step was to obtain a grant from the Legislature of eighty thousand dollars, with which the edifice in the city, now called the Old College, was completed-professorships were established-and a library and apparatus procured. It was during his application for this grant, that he matured the plan, and with the aid of some influential friends, procured the passage of a law establishing the common school fund of this state-a service to his country, which if it stood alone, would entitle him to a most grateful remembrance. It is impossible within the limits assigned to this article to trace the various efforts which during the twenty eight years that he has spent at the head of this Institution, he has made in the cause of education, If posterity shall ever

inquire after his monument, they may be than better in his habits. It happened once
pointed to the lands, the edifices, the profess-that he was called out of town, and in his
orships and the influence which are now the haste left behind him a letter, in which to
property of Union College, and which it is please an unprincipled friend, he had spoken
believed, may all be traced to his individual of his wife in terms of carelessness, if not of
agency. It is not too much to say, that he derision, and dilated freely upon his general
has been to this Institution, at once, its course of life. Imagine the anxiety and
Financier-its President—and of all its pecu-suspense of the startled profligate when he
niary benefactors, except the state, the most found himself borne by a rapid steamboat
liberal. Instead of fourteen students, it now upon a journey which must necessarily be of
numbers, as it has for several years, more several days duration, yet remembering dis-
than two hundred-graduates annually classes tinctly that the fatal letter was left exposed
as large as are graduated in any college in our and unsealed upon his wife's table. He
country; and has funds and property which recollected too, with a pang, that he had
entitle it to rank beside the most venerable wantonly, in answer to her inquiries, boasted
and honored. What religious impressions that it contained a profound secret which he
Dr. Nott has left on the minds of his pupils-would not have revealed for the world. He
what impulse he has given to their intellectual paced the deck in an agony of disappointment
pursuits-what habits of mental discipline he and shame. He pictured her opening the
has imparted-and what lessons he has letter, and turning pale with horror and
furnished respecting the emergencies of a indignation; perhaps fainting with anguish;
practical life-may be learned from the fifteen alarming the servants; flying to her father-
hundred individuals who during his presidency renouncing him forever. As soon as possible
have enjoyed his paternal care. They need he returned, but with a sinking heart, to his
no sketches from us to remind them of the dwelling, bracing himself up to meet the fury.
charm with which he can invest the lecture of an enraged and wretched woman.
room-of the sacredness which he throws opened the door softly. She was bending
over the solemnities of the chapel-of the over her table busily writing. A placid smile
parental kindness with which he admonishics sealed her mouth with a perfect beauty, and
the wayward, and bears with the perverse spread over her glowing features the mild
the facility with which he maintains a discipline expression of peace and joy and even as she
more rigid, it is believed, than prevails in any wrote, the fragment of a sweet ballad fell from
other college of our country-the intuitive her lips in a low music, that flows only from a
ease with which he penetrates the character heart entirely at rest. The husband stole
and traces the aberrations of his pupils-and noiselessly around, and read as her pen traced
the upward aim which he gives to the her gentle thoughts:
aspirations of the ardent and youthful mind.
All these are traits which have left on the
minds of his students an indelible impression,
and which are now reflecting from the labors
of many distinguished men in our country,
who are proud to refer to him as their model
and to remember him as, under God, their
greatest intellectual benefactor.

[Concluded in our next.]

MISCELLANY.

Romantic.

He

Your letter is lying by me. The very, very letter, containing the "profound secret." Now could I punish you for your carelessness; but, my dearest Charles, how could I look you in the face on your return, after having basely violated your trust in my integrity, and meanly sought to gratify a silly curiosity at the expense of honesty, delicacy and confidence. No. The letter is unopened, and lest you should feel uneasy, I enclose it to you, with the sincere love of your affectionate wife, &c.' 'What an angel!' uttered the consciencestriken husband.

I recollect a pretty incident, which may not be uninteresting to the reader. A wild She started up with a cry of pleasureyoung fellow married a lovely girl, and having and as Charles met the light of her clear, been long addicted to habits of dissipation,|| unshrinking eyes he was humbled that he even the sincere attachment which he entertained towards his wife could not entirely disentangle him from its snares. His occasional irregular hours would have given any but one of so pure and sweet a disposition, every reason to suspect that she did not hold that place in his affections which was her right; but this reflection scarcely ever intruded upon her spirits. The husband was far from being cruel, and really loved her, but his disposition was weak and his companions HAPPINESS. As well might a planet, revolveloquent, and he seemed to grow worse rathering round a sun, expect to have perpetual

should have suspected her, and deeply struck with repentance at his own conduct. He thenceforth severed all ties that drew him abroad; and if the pure and happy being whose influence had thus allured him to the path of right had perused all his subsequent letters she would have found nothing concerning herself, save bursts of the sincerest admiration and the warmest love.