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the peace of 1783. Their sufferings, during the three intervening years, were exceedingly severe, particularly in the prison at Chamblee, which is represented as having been foul and loathsome to a degree.



O'er a low couch the setting sun had thrown its latest ray,
Where, in bis last strong agony, a dying warrior lay;
The stern old Baron Rudiger, whose frame had ne'er been bent
By wasting pain, till time and toil its iron strength had spent.

. They come around me here, and say, my days of life are o'er,
That I shall mount my noble steed, and lead my band no more ;
They come, and to my beard they dare to tell me now, that I,
Their own liege lord and master born - that I, ha! ha! must die !

And what is Death? I've dared him oft before the Paynim spear;
Think ye he's entered at my gate, has come to seek me here?
I've met him --- faced him - scorned him - when the fight was raging hot;
I'll try his might; I brave his power, defy, and fear him not!

Ho! sound the tocsin from my tower, and fire the culverin!
Bid each retainer arm with speed - call every vassal in;
Up with my banner on the wall - the banquet-board prepare,
Throw wide the portal of my hall, and bring my armor there!'

An hundred hands were busy then; the banquet forth was spread,
And rang the heavy oaken floor with many a martial tread;
While from the rich dark tracery, along each vaulted wall,
Lights gleamed on harness, plume, and spear, o'er the proud old gothic hall.

Fast hurrying through the outer gate, the mailed retainers poured,
On through the portal's frowning arch, and thronged around the board ;
While at its head, within his dark, carved oaken chair of state,
Armed cap-à-pie, stern Rudiger, with girded falchion, sate.

'Fill every beaker up, my men! — pour forth the cheering wine;
There's life and strength in every drop — thanksgiving to the vine!
Are ye all there, my vassals true? - mine eyes are waxing dim;
Fill round, my tried and fearless ones, each goblet to the brim!

'Ye're there, but yet I see ye not; draw forth each trusty sword,
And let me hear your faithful steel clash once around my board :
I hear it faintly -- louder yet!- what clogs my heavy breath ?
Up all! and shout, for Rudiger, 'Defiance untó Death !").

Bowl rang to bowl, steel clanged to steel, and rose a deafening cry,
That made the torches flare around, and shook the flags on high :
'Ho, cravens! do ye fear him ? — slaves, traitors ! have ye flown ?
Ho, cowards! have ye left me to meet him here, alone!

But I defy him - let him come!' Down rang the massy cup,
While from its sheath the ready blade came flashing half-way up;
And with the black and heavy plumes scarce trembling on his head,

There, in his dark, carved oaken chair, old Rudiger sat, dead!
Providence, (R. 1.,) February, 1838.

It is not fear, that on the brink

Of danger shakes the bold :
The pulse may falter, but the mind

Bears onward, uncontrolled.
There is, ere daring deeds be done,

A momentary strife;
'Tis nature's due, e'en when we prize

Less than ourselves our life.

The throbbing heart, the quivering lip,

That shook a Marlborough's frame,
Were but the throes — the giant birth

Was Blenheim's deathless name!
Thus mother Earth most dreadful is,

When she hath most to dread:
The nations from her trembling fly,

And cities bow their head.



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Some weeks since, chance threw into my hands the January number of the KNICKERBOCKER, wherein I read with attention a paper entitled, as well as I remember, A Cry and Prayer against the Imprisonment of Small Children."

I have thought much of the sentiments expressed in that article, and of what the result might be to the succeeding generation, if the advice contained in it were complied with, to the letter. Whether the author himself made this a subject of serious reflection, I cannot pretend to say; but as he pays our sex the compliment of addressing us pointedly, in more than one passage of bis interesting appeal, 1 feel there can be no impropriety in transferring my thoughts to paper, in reply.

Myself the mother of a promising boy, I made the case my own in an instant, and imagined the effect it would produce on his vivacious, imitative character, were I at once to abandon the reins of discipline, and allow the lad to run the uncontrolled out-of-doors course, so strongly recommended in the article referred to. judicious father were ever at hand to direct his pursuits, to teach him to ride, to walk, and to shoot,' and to do all these well; and above all, to teach him to tell the truth,' this very idea implies instruction, the best of instruction, derived from constant intercourse with a wise parent. But everybody knows, that few boys can enjoy this advantage; and every body knows, or may know, from observation, the consequences of the let-run system, too frequently adopted. Pernicious habits quickly appear, the result of unconstrained intercourse with such companions as he picks up in his rambles, who will not teach him even to play marbles well, and certainly will not confirm him in the practice of telling the truth.

I join most heartily in deprecating the injurious effects of a common school education; and I agree as to the impropriety of placing

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young children under the cramping influence of infant school discipline. The little urchins would flourish better under the smiles of a fond mother, and her judicious and practical instructions would imperceptibly lead the intellects and the morals together into the right path. Without the aid of book or pen, the education of a child may be considered in good train, while his faculties are permitted to develope themselves beneath the eye of such a parent. Yet are suitable books valuable assistants, introduced in the hours of rest which intervene even in the sports of childhood. They are seized upon as delightful resources. To learn to read, becomes in its turn a source of amusement, and an agreeable method of rexpanding his intellect is placed at once in the child's own hands. In this view only, can it be looked upon as a benefit to know how to read early, and should never be urged upon a child against his inclination; nor should a book be placed in his hands that contains one sentence beyond his comprehension, or that his mother cannot, in a few words, make clear to his understanding. So important does this appear, that I think parents and teachers would do wisely to remove, with the aid of a pair of scissors, every passage in a child's book that is beyond his faculties, so that when he begins to derive instruction from written words, a complete perspicuity of ideas may be retained in the child's mind.* Surely, this gentle intellectual process need not interfere with the freedom of thought and action, so necessary for bodily and mental health. It does but give an additional means of healthful employment for the overflowing energies of childhood. To give free scope to these wild energies, instead of wisely directing them, our adviser would bid us mothers open our doors, show our boys the streets, and bid them go forth to learn 'to walk, to ride, to shoot, and to tell the truth ! •Lady,' I think I hear bim say, 'you put too literal a construction on my words.' Well then, I will lay aside that idea, and merely go on to say, (with submission I venture the suggestion,) that there is far too much liberty allowed to our young citizens; too little wholesome home restraint exercised over their manners and morals. Rules of decorum are left to the school-master; discipline is confined to the school-room; the legitimate purposes of a school-room are not achieved; the reasoning faculties find litile enlargement there; the scene too often consists in an injurious struggle between ignorant little rebels, and a mistaken though well-meaning pedagogue, who is as thankful as they are when the hour arrives that turns them once more into the streets, to the free indulgence of their mischievous propensities.

School tuition, then, is inefficient; school discipline is ineffectual. Something more, or rather something different, is wanting. More common sense, more judgment, are wanting in teachers, in lieu of common place learning; and, what is of far greater importance, more judgment, more strength of mind, are wanting in our young mothers. Address them again, kind Sir. Remind them of the important station they fill in society, as the mothers and early directors of a race of freemen. Tell them of the high responsibility of

* Sir Walter Scott reasons differently. He thinks that to be a little in advance of the child's comprebensiou, stimulates inquiry, and strengthens his young intellect. Vide LOCKHART's Memoir.


the charge, and encourage them to cultivate their own intellects, that they may learn the better to guide the youthful ones which from them receive their earliest impressions.

A cutting remark appeared in one of the periodicals last year, on the 'diluted state of the intellects of women and girls. If such is indeed the unfortunate state, or low estimate, of our reasoning powers, is it not rather a subject of regret than of sarcasm ? - and should not some efficient measures be taken in future to strengthen those intellects ,on which so much of the character of our young citizens depends? This, methinks, would be a nobler aim than that of flattering our follies, and ridiculing our weaknesses.

But I must pause, or I may draw a rebuke from our friendly adviser, instead of a few more of the useful hints of which we all stand sufficiently in need.

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Afar from thee! The morning breaks,

But morning brings no joy to me;
Alas! my spirit only wakes

To know I am afar from thee:
In dreaifts I saw thy blesséd face,

And thou wort nestled on my breast;
In dreams I felt thy fond embrace,

And to mine own thy heart was prest.
Afar from thee! 'Tis solitude,

Though smiling crowds around me be,
The kind, the beautiful, the good

For I can only think of thee;
Of thee, the kindest, loveliest, best,

My earliest, and my only one,;
Without thee, I am all unblest,

And wholly blest with thee alone.

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Afar from thee! The words of praise

My lisiless ear unheeded greet ;
What sweetest seemed in better days,

Without thee, seems no longer sweet:
The dearest joy fame can bestow,

Is in thy moistened eye to see,
And in thy cheek's unusual glow,
Thou deem'st me not unworthy thee.

Afar from thee!" The night is come,

But slumbers from my pillow flee;
I cannot rest so far from home,

And my heart's home is, love, with thee!
I kneel before the throne of prayer,

And then I know that thou ari nigh;
For God, who seeth every where,

Bends on us both his watchful eye.

Together in his loved embrace,

No distance can our hearts divide;
Forgotten quite the mediate space,

I kneel thy kneeling form beside:
My tranquil frame then sinks to sleep,

But soars the spirit far and free :
O welcome be night's slumbers deep,

For then, dear love! I am with thee.
Charleston, (S. O.,) March, 1829.

G. W. B.


RETROSPECT of Western TRAVEL. By HARRIET MARTINEAU, Author of 'Society in

America,' 'Illustrations of Political Economy,' etc. In two volumes. pp. 515. NewYork: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

MODERN political economists, of the second sex, and statesmen (if the bull be pardonable) of the feminine gender, have never commanded much of our admiration. When personally unknown, they have always seemed, in our imagination, to be 'bearded like the pard,' and to assume, in their manly labors, the port of an Ariel in top-boots; and acquaintance generally confirms these impressions. Hence we have never alluded to the dissertations, involving sundry varieties of national and social metaphysics, contained in a former work upon America, by Miss MARTINEAU. We hold with WALTER SCOTT, that no woman ever stepped from her appropriate sphere, how much notoriety soever she may have acquired, who did not lose far more than could by any possibility have been gained. As to the benefits conferred by the feminine speculations in question, we, as Americans, have but one opinion. They are not essential to the preservation of our institutions!

The 'Retrospect of Western Travel,' however, is open to none of the objections which were valid against its predecessor. The object of the writer is, to convey to the English public more of her personal narrative, and to sketch more of the lighter characteristics of men, and incidents of travel, than it suited her purpose to give in 'Society in America. The result is, very graphic pictures of the general aspect of our country, its distinguished men, various manners, etc., all which we are glad to commend to the reader's attention.

The incidents of the voyage hither, though necessarily hackneyed in kind, are in many respects presented in rare and beautiful lights. We have pencilled a few passages of life at sea, and have italicized one or two sentences of painting by words:

“Our afternoons were delightful; for the greater number of the forty-two days that we were at sea, the sun set visibly, with more or less lustre, and all eyes were watching his decline. There was an unusual quietness on board just about sunset. All the cabin passengers were collected on one side, except any two or three who might be in the rigging. The steerage passengers were to be seen looking out at the same sight, and probably engaged as we were in pointing out some particular bar of reddened cloud, or snowy mountain of vapors, or the crimson or golden light spattered on the swelling sides of the billows as they heaved sunward. Then came the last moment of expectation, even to the rising on tiptoe, as if that would evable us to see a spark more of the sun; and then the revival of talk, and the bustle of pairing off to walk.

1 kuow no greater luxury than sitting alone in the stern on fine pights, when there is no one within hearing but tbe helmsman, and sights of beauty meet the eye wherever it turns. Behind, the light from the binnacle alone gleams upon the deck ; dim, shifting lights and shadows mark out the full sails against the sky, and stars look down between. The young moon drops silently into the sea afar. In our wake is a long train of pale fire, perpetually renewed as we hiss through the dark rares. On such a quiet nighi, how startling is a voice from the deck, or a shout of laughter from the cabin ! More than once, when I heard the voices of children, and the barking of a dog from the steerage, I wholly forgot for the moment that I was at sea, and, looking up, was struck breathless at the sight of the dim, gray, limitless expanse. Never, however, did I see the march of the night so beautiful over hill, dale, wood, or plain, as over the boundless sca, roofed with its completo arch. The inespressible silence, the undimmed lustre, the steady, visible motion of the sky, make the night what it can nowhere be on land, unless in the midst of the Great Desert, or on a bigh mountain-top. It is not the clear still nights alone that are beautiful. Nothing can be more chilling to the imagination than the idea of fog, yet I have seen exquisite sights in a night sog; not in a pervading durable mist, but in such a fog as is common at sea, thick and driving, with spaces through which the mdon may shine down, making clusters of silvery islands ou every side. This was an entirely new appearance to me, and the white archipelago was a spectacle of great beauty. Then, again, the action of the ship in a strong night breeze is fine, cutting her steady way through the seething water, and dashing them from her sides so uniformly and strongly, that for half a mile on either hand the sea is as a white marble floor gemmed with stars; just like a child's idea of the pavement


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