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very large part of the mortality in the United States LIBERIA.
results directly from the variable character of the cli
mate, and it is probable that a greater difference exists The following notice of the state and prospects of the Libe- l between the healthiness of the seacost in Liberia, and ria colonies is from a gentleman who has resided several years of the country only ten miles inland, than can any at Bassa Cove.-Ed.
where be found here within the same limits. Although During the last year two companies of emigrants vegetation is astonishingly luxuriant and forms an obhave been located in Liberia, at the interior settlements, ject of novel interest to strangers from the temperate and have lost none from the effects of the climate.zone, yet the soil is generally a dry absorbent and gravExperience concurs with many other obvious reasons elly loam, and resembles that of New England more to show that the climate of Liberia is absolutely a than the alluvion of the Mississippi valley. Some of very healthy one, and safe for the natives of this coun- the most fatal diseases of the East and West Indies, such try. The reports which have represented that coast as as liver and bowel complaints, are almost unknown in one of the most unfriendly and dangerous to the health the colony, and fruit may be used, to a great extent, by of northern residents were founded on observations con-the acclimated, with impunity. A healthier people fined to the very limited part of the country in which than the natives probably does not exist. Although alone they could have originated, namely, to the mouths the slave trade and the constant wars occasioned by it of rivers and the immediate vicinity of the seacoast. In destroyed millions of the people, and generally those the colony, within two or three miles of the ocean, all of the most valuable class, and rendered life and propthe rivers and their branches are bordered by mangrove erty extremely insecure, yet the country has an imswamps, which occupy about one-half of that part of mense population. In the territory of Grand Bassa, the country; and the noxious exhalations from these which is forty or fifty miles square, their number is swamps are almost the only cause adverse to health insupposed to be 120,000, or nearly as great as that of Liberia. The utmost extremes of heat and cold which the Indians east of the Mississippi at the settlement of were observed by the writer during a residence of four the United States.
W. Johnson, years in the colony, were 70° and 87°, so that there are at least 100° of temperature in this climate which are never felt in that. Emigrants to Liberia, having been once acclimated, there is very little change afterwards
Original. to be encountered; and this accounts for the fact that
THE POET'S DEATH.' among those who have resided a few months, even in
“ 'Tis not vain--they do not err the swampy district, near the coast, as little medical
Who say that when the poet dies advice is called for as in the most healthy parts of the
Mute nature mourns her worshiper, state of New York. The town of Edina, at the mouth
And celebrates his obsequies." of the St. John's river, was settled nine years ago by thirty-three men, shortly after their arrival in Africa.
Uron a stranger's couch It is so closely invested by swamps that all the dry land
His feeble form reclined, is already appropriated to town lots. The company
And dimly shone that eye built a stockade for the defense of the place, and en
Where genius sat enshrined. dured all the hardships and privations incident to the
Upon his lofty brow founding of a new settlement, and none of them have
The clammy death-drop hung, died by any cause referable to the climate. One was
And by his side his harp killed in battle, another died of consumption, and thir
Lay shattered and unstrung. ty-one were alive and in health on my return from the colony last winter. Among the acclimated population The world's unfeeling scorn there is no season of general sickness, and nothing far
Had rested on his head; ther is observable than a rather greater frequency of
His wreath of young renown bilious attacks at the change from the dry to the rainy
Lay withering and dead. season. It is, however, important that those who are to
'Twas eve: he bowed in awe reside in uuhealthy situations on the coast should select the best season for their arrival, which is about the first of
At nature's altar-stone,
To catch the sun's last rayJuly. Fogs are very rarely seen in Liberia, and the at
It faded: he was gone, mosphere is as clear as in the United States. The winds and rains are much more regular, and in the wet season,
Now rest, thou child of song! as the rain generally accompanies the land breeze, which
All nature mourns for thee; blows only at night, the weather is not more inconve
And man alone could scorn nient to laborers than it often is for entire months in this climate. Excellent water is everywhere abundant,
A spark of Deity. and, in short, all the general causes affecting the health
* The author of these lines was very young, and he himself of the people, are in the highest degree favorable. Al met the very end which he here describes.-Ed.
view a face that might have been a study for a painter, SELF-CONVICTION.
In it there beamed, through the shriveled features of
age, and physical traces of suffering, such a sun-lit ex“Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and pression of spiritual triumph, that it forcibly reminded I will give you rest.”
me of the last poetical breathings of Cowper's museIr was Saturday evening, and I had returned home
“To Jesus, the crown of my hope, wearied, chagrined, and disappointed, from the convic
My soul is in haste to be gone; tion that I was reluctantly obliged to admit that I had
O, bear me ye cherubims up, been over-reached in a bargain of considerable impor
O waft me a way to his throne!" tance; and where, too, I had felt doubly secure in hav-|There came over her whole countenance such a sweet, ing placed implicit confidence in the honesty of the in-chastened look of devout resignation, that my feelings dividual in question, and also in having trusted in the were deeply touched; and in comparing her situation sufficiency of my own judgment to appreciate the true with mine, and also her spiritual condition with my own, value of the purchase. Alas! I was doubly deceived, I felt rebuked and ashamed to call myself a Christian. and found I had indeed paid too dear for my hobby. The next who entered was also a female, aged, but not Now, the conviction of a bad bargain, without any infirm. She hastened in with a quick, if not elastic cause for self-reproach in the matter, would in other step, and took a seat just in front of me, and after reverdays have made me eloquent in the abuse of mankind. ently bowing her head in prayer, she raised her eyes to Even now I felt some risings of reprobation in my the pulpit as if in wonder why the preacher was so mind, that my confidence should have been so abused; late. But he was not out of time—she had “made but this implication of self with the subject, acted as a haste" to be there. She looked inquiringly about for a complete sedative, outwardly, at least, and like casting few minutes to see who had assembled, then seemed to oil upon the waters, it calmed the waves on the surface, call in her wandering thoughts, and settle down into a if it could not still their swelling below. Not being grateful remembrance of the past, as though she were able to abstract my mind from the subject, I sat silently counting up the mercies she had, through a long life, revolving the purchase again and again, to catch all its received from the hands of her Lord and Master, and relative aspects and bearings, until I had quite philoso- to be looking forward to that rest that was soon to be phized, if not christianized myself into resignation, hers. She was coarsely clad, and evidently belonged and in a quiet frame I sought my pillow. But no to the class, in the language of the world, of the indisooner were my outward senses sealed in sleep, than gent; but she seemed to have the Scriptural richesthe subject again presented itself, and with all the vari- she seemed content with the humble lot assigned her. ations of kaleidoscopic combination, demanded a new Again I felt rebuked, and resolved to be more faithful hearing. Again I could not escape from the dreamy to Him who “had made me to differ." A third female conviction that I had indeed been basely cheated. So now made her appearance clothed in the habiliments of that after a perturbed and feverish night, I awoke on Sab- deepest mourning. Her countenance was expressive bath morning unrefreshed in body and unfitted in spirit of the anguish of an unsanctified bereavement. Perfor the enjoyment of the day. But I resolved not to haps the partner of many years had been taken away indulge a half inclination I had to stay from church. by a sudden stroke; or, it may be, an only child had So determined was I to go that I found myself there died, after protracted suffering. The unregenerate much earlier than usual. The preacher had not yet ar- heart rebels against the removal of earthly friends, rived, and the congregation were only beginning to col- under whatsoever circumstances they may be taken. lect; and coming in singly, as they mostly did, I had Whilst my fancy was drawing pictures of the probaample opportunity to observe and ponder upon each | bilities of her case, my eye was caught by the tremuindividual that entered. And, verily, it seemed to me lous motion of her head; and I now observed that unto be the gathering together of the way-side hearers. | less steadied by her hand it had a constant vibratory The lame, the halt, the deaf, and the blind were there. motion, as though her nerves had rebelled against some Their afflictions were various, their want was the same, dispensation of Providence, and the Lord had “let and a similar impulse had probably drawn them togeth-them alone” to witness against her. A third time I er—a hope that the angel of the Lord might stir the felt rebuked, and thanked God from the depths of my Gospel pool for them, and that they might step in and heart that I had been spared such a token of his disbe made spiritually if not physically whole. The first pleasure, though in days that are past, perhaps my whose infirmities I particularly noticed was an aged fe- spirit had been equally rebellious as hers. male, who appeared to have lived beyond her three-score A hymn was now struck up, and another infirmity and ten years; for besides all the ordinary indications of manifested itself. Sitting near the altar, I observed a age, she was lame, and came halting in with her crutch.man arching his hand at the back of his ear in the After she had taken her seat, she appeared to be quite form of a trumpet, that he might catch the Gospel overcome with her exertions, and with the confined air song; and I rejoiced in the reflection that there are no of the church, and to gasp as it were for freer breath. deaf ears, or blind eyes, or lame limbs in that heaven She first wiped her face, then made use of her fan, and for which we should all strive. finally laid aside her bonnet, by which was exposed to The church now began to fill with the young, and
Original. THE NEW YEAR.
the tide of time is rolling onWe stand upon its brink.”
IF Time could ope his closed book,
And we could there the future read, Ah! who would dare within to look,
And learn the lot for him decreed?
The torch of hope no more would cheer
His darkened pathway with its light; On all that now makes life most dear
Would seem to hang a sad’ning blight.
the gay, and the fashionable. Those who are not so much in earnest come not so early. The preacher soon arrived, and all wandering eyes were fixed on him. There was nothing very etriking in his appearance. He made a suitable, but not a pathetic prayer, and it did not reach my excited feelings; but when he gave out that most beautiful of all hymns,
“O, for a closer walk with God," it touched, as it ever does, the right chord in my bosom, and awakened all that is good within me. I felt that I had wandered far from him, and that he was drawing me back by every fibre of my heart, and I yielded myself up to the sweet influences of the Spirit. The services now commenced. The first lesson for the morning was somewhere in Isaiah. It spoke of Christ giving sight to the blind, unstopping the deaf ear, and making the lame to walk, and must have been peculiarly acceptable to the class of sufferers, of which I have been speaking. We now had another of Cowper's touching hymns
“God moves in a mysterious way," after which the sermon commenced. But scarcely had the text been given out, before a messenger was seen hurrying into the church, and after exchanging a few words with one of the brethren, they both went out together-an indication, I thought, of suffering at home, sudden sickness, perhaps, of some of his family. And although I had no personal knowledge of him or his, my sympathies were awakened for them, while there came up vividly before me former scenes of home suffering, and I felt fervently thankful that this summons was not for me. My feelings had been so wrought upon by all that I had seen and heard since I came into the church, that, although the sermon was but an ordinary one, rather doctrinal than practical, I had listened with a right spirit, and proved a profitable one to me, and I returned to my home refreshed in spirit, and strengthened in every good purpose of my soul; and although I still viewed my purchase in the same worldly light of a bad bargain, it had completely lost its power to disquiet me. When I entered the walls of the sanctuary, I had cast, as it were, my burden from me, and thus got rid of an oppressive load that no human hand could have removed from me. Let none absent themselves from the church, because they do not feel like going. It is the certain indication that they ought to be there. It is only safe to stay at home when our spirits are right, and some unavoidable hindrance is in the way of our going. How highly should we prize the privilege, if it were of rare occurrence! And shall we slight the goodness of God for the abundance of his mercies in permitting us to draw near to him more frequently? Let us, then, not neglect the assembling ourselves together on his holy day, if we would expect his blessing.
The distant ills we knew were ours,
Would all our present thoughts employ,
Amid the sunshine of our joy.
And sees the way we'll surely take,
Lest our o’erburdened hearts should break. And if he loose the dearest ties
That bind us to an earthly love, 'Tis that the soul may “swifter rise"
To richer, purer joys above.
Ah! who would then the curtain raise,
That all life's ills so kindly shrouds ?
Original. DEATH OF A SISTER Taey tell me that my sister dear,
Is sleeping with the dead; That in the grave so dark and drear
They've made her narrow bed. And is it so ? and shall it be
That I no more can hear That tuneful voice, nor ever see
That face so loved and dear?
Are those bright eyes for ever closed,
That once so sparkling shone ?
Are life and beauty flown?
Are they, too, pale and cold;
Is it o'erspread with mold?
We should have all our communications with men, as in the presence of God; and with God, as in the presence of men.
"Tis so, alas! and, far away,
The tidings reach my ear;
Nor know her end was near-
Her sick and dying bed, Nor could I hear the farewell sound
As hence her spirit fled.
Yet "all is well;" for God above,
Our Father and our Friend,
Hath bade her sorrows end.
Which God to me has given;
GOD IS LOVE,
Are vocal everywhere with notes of love,
Unite their fires in one eternal light,
And man, with his proud mind, his feeling heart,
"Man cannot go where universal love Shines not around.”
O'er the fair face of earth where'er we roam,
From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly, Is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky.
Behold the merry minstrels of the morn,
Yet theirs each harvest dancing in the gale, Whatever crowns the hill, or smiles along the vale.
The gem that slumbers in the ocean cave,
Outcast of nature, man! the wretched thrall
Guile, violence, and murder seiz'd on man,
Their first sweet images of thought.
Full many a charın to break the spell
Had taught her in the vale to dwell,
By many a noble “Gathering;"
She's led t' unfurl her spirit's wing-
One year has fled with noiseless wing
'Mid checker'd scenes of joy and grief, Since thy first votive offering
Was wreath'd in beauty on the leafThe first pure leaf thy “Gatherings" pressid, Thy fadeless “Gatherings of the West ” And in that year thy tasteful hand
Has gather'd stores of varied hue-
However lovely to the view,
Th' unerring light religion lends,
While taste and science sweetly blend With living truth, and stand confess'd The peerless “Gatherings of the West!" And thou hast gathered from the stream
That flow'd from Inspiration's fount, A draught that sparkles in the beam
Which shone o'er Moses on the Mount, And dash'd thy ev'ry page with dew Distill’d from drops of heavenly hue! Thou'st garner'd, too, in holy lay,
The tale that broke on Judea's night,
Entranc'd to Calvary's distant height,
Is twin'd thy “Gatherings” among,
And deck'd them with the robe of song,
Of dark oblivion's turbid stream,
Her youth and all youth's joyous dreams,
Among thy “Gatherings” fadeless shine;
She slumber ’neath a tropic clime; While every Christian heart should be Her grave, and not "the dark blue sea!" Thou'st garner'd here the gifts of men,
Who've largely quaff’d Pieria’s spring; And woman's pure and gifted pen
Has yielded many a “Gathering,” While youth, as votive offerings, brought
Thou'st garner'd in one little year
All these, and many other themes, And mingled them with tasteful care,
To shed on us their blended beamsT' improve the heart—the mind t expandAnd point us to yon heavenly land. Go on, then, with the blest employ
Of garnering up thy gems of worth! Angels behold thy work with joy;
For 'twill improve and gladden earth, And be to some the guiding star That points to realms of bliss afarGo on, and when death's darken'd plume
Around thy closing scene shall wave, Among thy works that light the gloom,
And live in beauty 'yond the graveThe works that stand that solemn test, Shall be thy
"Gatherings of the West!”
THE INDIAN GIRL. She sits beside the lonely rill
With flowers her raven locks to twine, The lucid stream is calm and still,
And bright the silvery pebbles shine; But gazing in that tranquil tide
No objects but the streaming curl,
Are seen by that lone Indian girl.
The tall oaks fling their branches high,
Like mountains scattered o'er the sky. The vine hath clasped the bending bough,
Its silken tendrils closely cul; Still gazing on that mirrored brow,
Remains the bright eyed Indian girl. Gaze on, thou gentle, guileless one,
Fit mirror is that lovely stream To show a form so fair and young,
True as a prophet's pictured dream.
She'll soon her silken pinions furl,
Lois B. ADAMS.
* The lamented Mrs. Kidder.