I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember, I remember, I remember The roses red and white, The violets and the lily cups Those flowers made of light; I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air would rush afresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers, then, That is so heavy now, And the summer pool can scarcely cool The fever on my brow! FAMILY SYMPATHY. In the reign of James the First, and when the Earl of Huntingdon was lieutenant of the county of Leicester, a laborer's son was pressed to serve in the army, destined to go into Bohemia, with Count Mansfield. The poor father waited on the earl requesting that his son might be discharged, as being the only staff of his age, who, by his own industry, maintained both his parents. The earl inquired his name, which the old man hesitated to confess, fearing that it might be deemed presumptuous to avow the same name as the nobleman he addressed; at length, he said his name was Hastings. "Cousin Hastings," said the earl, "we cannot all be top branches of the tree, though we all spring from the same root. Your son, my kinsman, shall not be pressed." THE FALLING KITE. A FABLE. A KITE having risen to a very great height, moved in the air as stately as a prince, and looked down with much contempt on all below. "What a superior being I am now!" said the kite; "who has ever ascended so high as I have? What a poor grovelling set of beings are all those beneath me! I despise them." And again he shook his head in derision, and then he wagged his tail; and again he steered along with so much state, as if the air were all his own, and as if everything must make way before him; when suddenly, the string broke, and down fell the kite with greater haste than he ascended, and was greatly hurt in the fall. Thus we see that pride often meets with a sad downfall. ANECDOTE OF DWIGHT AND DENNIE. SOME few years since, as Dr Dwight was travelling through New Jersey, he chanced to stop at the stage hotel, in one of its populous towns, for the night. At a late hour of the same, arrived also at the inn, Mr Dennie, who had the misfortune to learn from the landlord that his beds were all paired with lodgers, except one occupied by the celebrated Dr Dwight. Show me to his apartment, exclaimed Dennie; although I am a stranger to the Rev. Doctor, perhaps I may bargain with him for my lodgings. The landlord accordingly waited on Mr Dennie to the Doctor's room, and there left him to introduce himself. The Doctor, although in his night gown, cap, and slippers, and just ready to resign himself to the refreshing arms of Somnus, politely requested the strange intruder to be seated. Struck with the physiognomy of his companion, he then unbent his austere brow, and commenced a literary conversation. The names of Washington, Franklin, Rittenhouse, and a host of distinguished and literary characters, for some time gave a zest and interest to their conversation, until Dr Dwight chanced to mention Dennie. "Dennie, the editor of the Port Folio," says the Doctor in a rhapsody, "is the Addison of the United States- the father of American belles lettres. But, sir," continued he, " is it not astonishing that a man of such genius, fancy, and feeling, should abandon himself to the inebriating bowl?" Sir," said Dennie, "you are mistaken. I have been intimately acquainted with Dennie for several years; and I never knew, or saw him intoxicated." "Sir," says the Doctor," you err. I have my information from a particular friend; I am confident that I am right, and you are wrong." Dennie now ingeniously changed the conversation to the clergy, remarking that Abercrombie and Mason were among the most distinguished divines: "nevertheless, he considered Dr Dwight, president of Yale College, the most learned theologian, the first logician, and the greatest poet that America has produced. But, sir," continued Dennie, “there are traits in his character, undeserving so wise and great a man, of the most detestable description: he is the greatest bigot and dogmatist of the age! "Sir," says the Doctor," you are grossly mistaken; I am intimately acquainted with Dr Dwight, and I know to the contrary." "Sir," says Dennie, "you are mistaken; I have it from an intimate acquaintance of his, whom I am confident would not tell me an untruth." "No more slander! says the Doctor, "I am Dr Dwight, of whom you speak!" "And I, too," exclaimed Dennie, "am Mr Dennie, of whom you spoke!" The astonishment of Dr Dwight may be better conceived than told. Suffice it to say, they mutually shook hands, and were extremely happy in each other's acquaintance. PATRICK HENRY. WHEN Patrick Henry, who gave the first impulse to the ball of the American Revolution, introduced his celebrated resolution on the stamp act into the House of Burgesses, of Virginia, in May, 1765, he exclaimed, when descanting on the tyranny of the obnoxious act, " Cæsar had his Brutus ; Charles the first his Cromwell; and George the Third " "Treason!" cried the speaker; "treason! treason! echoed from every part of the house. It was one of those trying moments which are decisive of character. Henry faltered not for an instant; but rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker an eye of flashing fire, continued, " may profit by their example. this be treason, make the most of it." If PROVERBS. A STITCH in time saves nine. Good words cost nothing, but are worth much. Have not the cloak to make when it begins to rain. If you wish a thing done, go; if not, send. If counsel be good, no matter who gives it. Men apt to promise, are apt to forget. Speak well of your friend; of your enemy, say nothing. Too much familiarity breeds contempt. SUNSET AND SUNSHINE. |