ENDURING AFFECTION.

311

who had already been sometime married, and was set-instances, the case with mothers now; and such was tled respectably in London, drew her from the sylvan the case with Mrs. Freeport in reference to her two scenes of a quiet country life, to the glare and bustle sons. Unknown to her husband and friends, she furof one of the most captivating cities in the world. To nished them with sums as their wishes desired, to state what were her feelings during the hurry of pre-plunge into every kind of gayety and excess, at the paration, or at the period of her departure, would be theatre, the ball-room, and the card-table. As, howmere speculation; these things, and others, connect-ever, this line of conduct was pursued in secret, an exed with her journey to town, are easily supplied by ternal profession was still maintained by the youths, to the most morbid imagination. It will, therefore, be the deception of their father and others. sufficient to my purpose to state, that counsel, such as piety, experience, and affection might be supposed to offer, was given by her venerable sire, and received by the amiable Olivia with devout attention; and that, after four and twenty hours' traveling, she reached the busy and gay metropolis of her country, and shortly after felt herself pressed to the bosom of her beloved

sister.

Such had long been, and such continued to be, the state of affairs at Mr. Freeport's when Olivia and her sister visited. However much the feelings of Marcus, the eldest son of Mr. Freeport, might have been deadened by his pursuits of folly, he was not insensible to the charms of the lovely Olivia; and yet they were too vitiated to feel the pure and holy passion, to which only, with propriety, the epithet love is applied. Every

tained, and, in about nine months from leaving the parsonage, the happy Olivia Goodall returned from it again to London, expecting to be the happy Mrs. Freeport.

Sincere in all her professions, and artless as inno-interview increased what was considered his affection cence could make her, Olivia judged of others by her towards her. The artless Olivia saw, and judging by own guileless nature; and hence, too soon fell a victim what she saw, approved, and approving loved-yes, she to craft, deception, and villany, of a rank, but too com- returned an almost idolizing passion for a base and mon, kind. worthless counterfeit. The proposals of young FreeAmong a number of respectable families, whom she port were listened to, the character of the worthy fathvisited in company with her sister, was a Mr. Free-er was forwarded to Mr. Goodall, his consent was obport's, a gentleman whose character and connections rendered such acquaintance desirable. But in every earthly advantage there is something to mar and deteriorate. It was so here. The wife of Mr. Freeport was as opposite to himself as contrariety of character Every thing furnished presumptive evidence to her, could make her. If the decided piety of her husband that she should realize, at least, as much of happiness was not a matter of open dislike and ridicule, it was as usually is known by the happy in the married state. merely tolerated by her. Her public profession, indeed, She was united to the man of her affections, for her resembled his; but her private conduct too plainly de- heart was wholly his; their circumstances in life were monstrated, that hers was profession without principle. more than merely easy, and her husband was kind and Boisterous in her temper, vain in her pursuits, and attentive. But the sunny bow of her joys was evandressy in her person, she was the bane of her hus-escent, as is frequently the pageant which adorns the band's peace, and the destroyer of her own and her heavens after the falling of a summer shower. Unfamily's happiness. Two sons were all the children kindness succeeded to inattention, and that was folthey had, who, under proper training, might have be-lowed by partial desertion: home, for him, appeared to come ornaments to society, and blessings to their con- have no charms; and religion, no attractions: still the nections. But who does not know the influence of a affectionate Olivia neither felt nor expressed any dimimother's conduct? Who is not aware of the awful ca-nution in her regards. She loved him with all the arpabilities of which she is possessed, and the consequent dor of a woman's love—than which nothing is more responsibility attaching to such a character? The ruin lasting, nothing more strong. She even displayed inor preservation of her offspring, principally, as an in-creasing affection, as her husband's declined; and strument, rests with herself. sought, by devoted kindness, to make his home the most delightful spot which earth could present, and to bind it and herself to him. But her efforts were vain, and she wept, unreprovingly, over what she could not remedy.

It was fashionable for Addison, Johnson, Steele, Knox, and others of their day, who were distinguished as essayists, to hold up, by satire, to reproof, the unnatural conduct of mothers who deserted their children in infancy, by turning them over to a nurse, and, in after life, consigning them to the care of tutors and govern

Four years she had been a wife, and now two lovely children claimed and enjoyed her diligent and affectionate care. These became her chief earthly comfort; to train their infant minds to knowledge and piety, engaged all the spare time from other concerns which now pressed heavily upon her, and which, from their nature, should have been attended to by her husband. Still no murmur escaped her, no upbraiding word fell on the ear of him she still loved; much less did any intimation to her friends furnish materials for conjec

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ENDURING AFFECTION.

ture, even that she was not happy. No! her own bosom, and the ear of God, were the repository of the secret of her sufferings, which to her were sacred.

"She never told her woe,

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pin'd in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief."

It was no unfrequent thing, now, for Olivia to be left alone, with all the weight of business on her hands, for a week or two together. He who had played the hypocrite already to such perfection, had not lost the ability to support that character still: in fact, he played it not-it was his own. Olivia, unsuspecting as ever, for still she loved him with the strength of first love, and hence the glaring inconsistencies in his conduct passed off unnoticed by her-gave full credence to every tale he told. Sometimes, an unexpected circumstance connected with business was feigned, to call him to the country, in one direction, sometimes in another; on such occasions, she displayed all the tender affection of a wife, by hastening, with an assiduity which few could have surpassed, to prepare for his departure; and then, with her own hands, packed his portmanteau, lest any comfort should be forgotten-with all the devotion of a young lover, she bade him adieu, while he hasted to the scenes which he loved, and such as I forbear to mention.

to carry off the prize which was thus presented; and hence, assuming an air and consequence perfectly nautique, he appeared before her la courageax et illustre Captain George Frederick Stanley.

The beautiful Miss Maria Louisa Nevell, after a courtship of a few weeks, was led to the altar, and became the deceived bride of an accomplished villain. In two weeks he abandoned her.

A few days only passed, and the public papers told a tale which Olivia would never have told. Her pious and venerable father read the heart-sickening statement, and instantly sent such condolence as his child's circumstances required, accompanied by a request, that she would retire with her family to his parental abode, and make his house her home. She declined. Her heart still was his, who had basely spurned the purest, strongest affection. Her determination was fixed, and she awaited the issue of his trial.

The morning of the day arrived-the case was opened-his marriage with Olivia was proved. It only remained to substantiate his second marriage to make out a case of bigamy. To the "glorious uncertainty of the law," however, he was indebted for a verdict, which, although in his favor in reference to his freedom, removed not from his character the blot with which it was stained. The marriage, indeed, was clearly proved, as far as the ceremony went; but that was rendered invalid by the omission of one of the lady's given names, and he was discharged. Even yet, with the fondness of a wife who deserved a better husband, Olivia loved him; and, on the day of his acquittal, waited for him at the door of his prison, and, receiving him to her bosom, conveyed him, in a carriage she had prepared for the purpose, to their habitation.

Once already had the profligacy of Marcus Freeport involved him in embarrassment. The marriage portion of Olivia was expended, and additional help was indispensable; for, without it, publicity would be given to the state of his affairs. In this dilemma, the confiding, devoted wife, believing that misfortune, as stated by her husband, was the cause, so represented the case The wound, however, which such infamy had into her pious father, and he, relying on the statement of flicted upon the peace of the aged Mr. Goodall, bowed his beloved child, promptly remitted the sum required. him down to the earth. "I have," he replied to a This affair had passed away, when, one fine evening, friend who paid him a visit shortly after, "I have been Olivia was sitting with her beloved Marcus, as she poorly sometime, and this last affair has been the breakfondly called her husband; the children were gambol-ing up of my constitution." He continued for a while ing around them, and happiness once again seemed entering their habitation. Indeed, the kind-hearted Olivia always felt happy when Marcus was with her. She was now gazing on him in a rapture of affection, when a gentleman was announced, inquiring for Mr. Freeport; the servant was desired to introduce him; he entered, and, after a brief apology for his intrusion, exhibited a writ, by virtue of which he claimed Mr. Marcus Freeport for his prisoner. Olivia shrieked, sprang with a convulsive bound to the side of her husband, as if to protect him, and fainted at his feet. Returning consciousness presented her affrighted children weeping over her, who, with the servant, alone remained. Her husband was immured within the strong walls of a prison.

During one of the days which her husband had devoted to pleasure, he journeyed with a female of fascinating appearance. The appearance of Mr. Freeport was perfectly gentlemanly. Struck with the beauty and accomplishments of his fair companion, he resolved

to perform the duties of his office; but, at length the village bell, which had for so long a period called his flock to receive the word at his lips, summoned the weeping villagers to follow to the grave the remains of their faithful and beloved minister. Olivia, too, like some scathed flower beat down beneath a desolating storm before its beauty had declined, sunk under the loss of her venerable parent, and the continued unkindness of her husband, whom still she loved with the unabated ardor of strong affection, and whose crimes she still sought to hide from popular observation.

As the heavy hand of death pressed upon her heart, and the feeble pulse of life beat slower and yet more slow, she prayed for him; and while her redeemed spirit passed gently away, and the whispered "farewell” issued from her lips, her closing eye gazed fondly on him; and even in death, the placid smile which sat upon her face, seemed to express what she had, during life, so powerfully displayed-ENDURING AFFECTION!

ELEGY TO MOUNT ZION.

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ELEGY TO MOUNT ZION.

(FROM THE HEBREW.)

powerful charms. It is they who mourn thy desolation-who melt into tears at thine affliction. Even from the confinement of the gloomy cavern their heart

Original.

G. F. R.

A GRAMMATICAL LUCUBRATION. "MAN," grammatically rendered, is a noun substantive; but that is his name merely-efficiently speaking, we know he is a verb; for his vocation is to be, to do, and to suffer. And all his modifications will accord with these in their variety. The man active, besides individual function, passes over and governs, even in “objective cases;" and as agent in one or other capacity, he fills the whole scope of performances, and ef fects all that is effected in this world of ours-God ruling it, and overruling to those happenings and issues which unallied man were too short-sighted or too vain to foresce or to control.

FORGETTEST thou, O Zion! thy children, who now languish in chains of slavery? the remnant of that in-longs after thee; and when they bow the knee in denocent flock who once fed in thy peaceful vallies? votion before God, their head is inclined toward thy Dost thou not receive the salutations with which they gates. O thrice blessed mount!-can Schinkor* and still hail thee on all sides, now that their oppressor has Patrus,† with their proud greatness, approach thee? scattered them? The salutation of a slave still hoping, Shall I compare their profane oracles with thy Urim and even in chains; the tears of whose weeping roll down Thummim? Can they produce anointed heroes?— like drops of nightly dew on Hermon; who would yet can they prophets?— -can they Levites and holy minbe contented could his flood of tears only moisten thy strels? O the riches of idolatry are transient, and pass neglected hill. O! his hope sinks not yet; for though, || away like smoke-thy splendor only continues for ever now that I bewail thine affliction, I am like the nightly and ever; for the Lord hath chosen thee for his dwelowl; yet, if I dream of thy redemption, my joyous soul ling place! Blessed is the man who now tarries, and is as the harp of the joyful songs of Bethel. O, these then shall behold with shouting thy light arise-for thy recollections break my heart!-thy sanctuary!-thine morning breaks on him-for he sees the joys of the undesecrated hills! where the majesty of God visibly || cheerful, youths, and thine own also, since thou again showed itself-where the azure gates of heaven never becomest young! closed-where the splendor of the God of glory shone; and sun, moon, and stars, were extinguished. O could I there pour out my anxious heart, where the Spirit of God once poured out itself on the youths of Israel! O blessed place! which, too holy for earthly thrones, was sanctified only to the throne of the glory of God! Alas! now have desperate wretches desecrated thy sanctuary. O could my soul, in sorrowful silence, lonely hover there, where God reveals himself to his prophets! Were I provided with swift wings, how far would I soar away, and bear my grief-pierced heart among the ruins of thy palaces. There would I sink on thine earth, cling fast to thy stones, and ardently bless thy dust. Could I raise myself up on the graves of my moldering parents;-here, despairing, gaze on Hebron, the most splendid of graves; and there, look towards yonder mount, which is covered with the tombs of the greatest lights of the earth-thy teachers. O then would I prefer the air of thy land to the ether which the spirits breathe; thy dust would be more pre-impulses to good often denied his power of activity cious to me than spices, and thy rivers sweeter than streams of honey! With what delight would I, naked and disfigured, seek the desert where thy palaces have shone-where the earth hath opened to receive the ark || of thy covenant, and thy holy of holies, in its dark womb, that no profligate might profane them. Then And the verb neuter, as appertaining to certain some, would I strew the ornaments of my head on thy graves; is still more disgraceful than the latter, (seeming to imand every imprecation with which I could load the day ply power without ability, means without spirit, fullthou wert profaned, would be a wild satisfaction to my ness without liberality.) The imbecile is paralyzed by despair. For a wild satisfaction only can I feel in my selfishness and besotted by ease-repressing the exercise desperation; every breath of air is worthless to me so of volition, action, and free agency. He is neither long as I see lions torn by dogs; thy princes by slaves. alive to patriotism, nor sensible to genius, nor accessiI dread the light of day, which shows me horrible ima-ble to want, nor "an entertainer of the Spirit;" and ges, and exhibits ravens who tear thy sacred corses in denying at once his body, his mind, his heart, and his the air. Alas! thou mixest the cup of sorrows. soul, he is indeed not a "being," but only "a state of being."

Stay! Already thy bitter draught is full. Only a little respite. I will first feel all my sorrows again. I will think of Ohla-I will think of Ohliba-then do thou pour out the rest upon me!

Cheer thee, crown of beauty! Awake, O Zion! think of the love, think of the innocence which attracted the hearts of the maidens, thy play-fellows, with

Man, the verb passive, with intelligence and heart— with limbs, muscles, and sinews-and especially with instruction, is still more faulty than the former. His

neglected and disused. Requiring all, and rendering nought, he hides his talent under a bushel-he rusts in sloth-he succumbs to the reaction of his own system, and is finally lapsed into a moral, mental, spiritual nonentity-his physical still cumbering the earth.

The world itself, we should say, were by eminence the noun substantive, being indeed of substance, yet subject to many modifications, to continual fluctuation, now nominating its verb, and now (in portions) the

Babel. † Egypt.

GENERAL RULES FOR LIVING.

4. To strangers, and persons in oppressive circum-ence the former, and instruct the latter. And for the stances, my expressions of sympathy and benevolence neglect of this rule of my life, more than all others, I shall be particularly given. (God grant to teach me will seek no apology in depression of animal spirits, fathe art of cheering desponding hearts!) tigue, or any similar thing.

TREATMENT OF CHILDREN.