room, and the eldest of the travellers will have a bed in the kitchen; old Adam will do very well for one night, rolled in a good blanket, and lying on the household chest; and the two others, being active young men, have no objection to climb the ladder, and sleep in the loft." You have managed well, and yet St.

The tone of forced mirth in which these words were pronounced, was infinitely displeasing to Jan's feelings, and he was far too angry to observe that tears of vexation gushed into her eyes. The insulting laugh was conclusive; he turned sullenly on his heel, and left her without one parting word. She watched him with half-relenting interest till he was out of sight; twice she was about to recal him, and twice pride overcame her better feelings. "I will make friends with him to-morrow," said she-" to-morrow." The morrow broke, and Jan, magnanimously nursing his much-abated indignation, resolved to betake him self for his morning meal to any place in the neighborhood, except the "Morning Star." Fearful that he night be tempted to break through this praiseworthy resolution, he would not even trust himself to look in that direction, and actually proceeded to his master's garden by the straight path across the fields, revolving in his mind thoughts not very complimentary to the constancy of the fair sex in general, and of the individual culprit in particular. He had not proceeded very far on his way, before he was accosted by Wil

gloomy, when she joined him, exclaiming in her liveliest tone, "A fine night, Mynheer Jan! but some what of the chilliest. Methinks it would be wiser in your worship to turn in, and take a seat by our fireside, than to stand out here in the frosty wind, counting the stars, like M. Le Cure, or the bishop's chap1 ain." "I am not cold, Trinette," replied Jan, exas-Gudule help me! but I have great misgivings about perated by her ill-timed pleasantry, "neither was I these men." You are valorous," replied Trinette, counting the stars; neither am I disposed for a seat by laughing affectedly. "Good Jan! mind your cabbages, the fire-side in the company of strangers." For that and let us manage our affairs for ourselves. It's lucky matter," returned the damsel, with a toss of her little you have not yet authority to command in the · Mornhead, "nobody wishes to constrain your self-willed ing Star,' and may be it were wiser that I never put inclinations. But I find it cold, and I must go in; my it in your power to do so." "It might be better for master and these honorable gentlemen will require us both that I never attempted to influence a stubborn my attendance." "These honorable gentlemen, in- will, or attach a fickle heart." “As you will, Jandeed! I never saw more unprepossessing-looking the loss would be yours, not mine," retorted the of individuals in my life. Let me tell you, Trinette, it fended girl. is not for the credit of the Morning Star' to harbor such suspicious characters. Honorable gentlemen! Why, they are more like smugglers, or deserters, or brigands," continued he, in rising wrath; "if old Adam would take my advice, he would close his door against such desperadoes." Vastly well, Heer Van Bloemen!" retorted the maid of the inn; but old Adam knows his interest, and my interest, and the interest of the Morning Star' better than to close his door against respectable travellers from foreign parts, with their memories full of old stories from distant countries, and reports of the wars of our own days, and their purses full of broad pieces, which they are ready and willing to spend." "Ay, and their knapsacks full of trinkets and toys, which they are willing to bestow on the host's pretty niece," cried the indignant gardener, furiously glancing at the new ear-rings which had just met his eye. Now, Trinette really loved Jan as well as she loved any thing excepting herself; so, perhaps, had she not been self-convicted of a superabundance of complacency in her new bravery attire, she would have condescended to relieve his uneasiness by acknowledging that the ob-helm Stein, the mason, who observed in that tone of noxious ornaments were the present of her sister, the peculiar bitterness which distinctly indicates that the wife of a respectable grocer at Namur; but, offended individual speaking has suffered a disappointment in by his jealousy, and not quite displeased to consider the matter of his matin meal, "Friend Jan! the 'Morn herself the injured party, instead of the aggressor, she ing Star' will lose its reputation for early hours: I contented herself with replying scornfully, "These have been knocking at the door till I am tired, and ear-rings were not given me by the honorable gentle- no one answers; the shutters are still closed, and the men. It is very strange, Jan Van Bloemen, that you household doubtless still asleep. As a friend, let me will imagine there is no one disposed to make me a advise you to remonstrate with Trinette, or the lea present but yourself, or old Adam, or these guests of thern purse will be lighter than you think for." In "I wish your guests were-at Liege," inter the bitterness of his wrath, Jan was about emphati rupted he, suppressing a less charitable wish. "The cally to declare his total indifference to the weight of gates will soon be shut, and they will hardly like to the purse, and his unqualified conviction of the abso spend the night in the fields." Neither will they lute inutility of any remonstrance from him in that require to do so they propose lodging here." "Here?" quarter; but as no man likes to point himself out as reiterated Jan, who knew, from the proximity of the the object of indifference and contempt to his ladye city, such a thing had never occurred as a traveller's love, he allowed the observation to pass, as if unheard, spending the night under old Adam Polder's roof. and contented himself with forming a very fervent "It is impossible, Trinette; you have not accommoda- mental aspiration, that, ere long, by word or deed, tion to receive them." "It is very certain, however, William Stein might give him a legitimate excuse for that these honorable gentlemen have pressing busi-knocking him down. Wilhelm passed on, and Jan, ness; they will set forward on their way before the city gates are open in the morning; and as for their lodging, my mistress and I will sleep in the inner

ours."

who soon reached his destination, addressed himself diligently to his work; but before noon, many passersby had remarked on the tardiness of the "Morning

was at that moment sitting. Trinette's dying deposition, and Jan's identification of their persons were unnecessary to convict them, as they made a full confession of their guilt, which was accompanied by circumstances of peculiar barbarity and duplicity. Sentence was passed upon them, and every individual present acquiesced in the justice of the award; but a thrill of horror ran through the whole court, when one of the prisoners stepping forward, declared in his own name and that of his accomplices, that from the moment of committing the crime for which they were justly about to suffer, they felt that they were delivered over, body and spirit, to the enemy of souls. They had wandered for hours, but always in a circle; for an irresistible force restrained their steps, and withheld them within sight of the home of their unoffending victims. They were removed from the bar, and a pious priest never after left their side, urging them to employ their few remaining hours in making their peace with heaven. But they turned a deaf ear to his admonitions; they spurned the offers of pardon, and awaited in hardened impenitence or stolid apathy, their fearful doom. The fated hour arrived, and an immense crowd collected to witness their execution. I will not enter into the details-suffice it to say, that the sentence decreed them to be burnt, that their very remains might not encumber the earth. But no human hand scattered their ashes to the winds of heaven; for, while the flames still crept lazily round the blackened pile, a tempest arose which, in violence, surpassed any that the oldest Liegeois present ever remembered. Loud, sudden, cracking bursts of thunder, attended by vivid and forky lightnings, and furi

Star," and some expressed a doubtful wish " that all | Ville, where, as it happened, the tribunal of justice might be well within." Coupling these remarks with the recollections of the night before, a sudden apprehension flashed across the gardener's mind. He threw down his spade, and hurried to the little inn; the shutters were still closed, and, to his inexpressible horror, he perceived that no smoke curled from its chimneys. He knocked, but there was no answer: he called, but nothing appeared to stir within. Some persons, however, hearing him, hastened from the neighboring fields to his assistance. The door, upon trial, appeared firmly fastened; and they were considering what course they should next pursue, when a faint, a very faint moaning decided them to enter, let follow what might. There was a low window at the back of the house, which occurred to them as offering more facility for gaining admission than any other. It looked into the garden, and the flower-beds beneath had evidently been recently trampled. The shutters, which were here simply closed, not bolted, yielded immediately to their hands, and Jan Van Bloemen sprang in hastily, and gained the interior of the cottage before any of his companions had followed him. An exclamation of horror prepared them in some degree for the scene within. The stream of light from the garden window disclosed an appalling spectacle. The lifeless body of old Adam, gashed with wounds, lay on the kitchen floor, close by the brass-belted chest, whose lid had been burst open, and the contents rifled. The corpse of his wife was also stiffening in her blood, and a weak, feeble groaning alone indicated that the murderers had left one deed of blood incomplete. Could affection stay the parting breath, Jan's assurances of pardon were not wanting. But Trinette's moments were numbered; and gather-ously rushing blasts of wind, dispersed the terrified ing her little remaining strength by an effort, to point out the last night's travellers as the perpetrators of the crime, she sauk back upon his shoulder to wake no more! Search was made instantly for the fugitives, and they were very shortly discovered, concealed in a low oak-copse, about half a mile from the spot. They offered no resistance when seized, but suffered themselves tranquilly to be conducted to the Hotel de

multitude. The alarmed executioner even fled from the spot, and it was not till the storm had subsided into a heavy continuous plashy rain, that he returned to look upon his work. A black scathed-looking spot was all the trace left of what had recently occurred there, from which, to his unutterable horror, crawled an innumerable swarm of black beetles, who spread themselves in all directions through the city.

THERE'S something pleasing in the guileless smile
Of Infancy. The gladsome hearts, and brows
Devoid of care, affect us not the less
Because we cannot wear them. If our soul
Contain a share of this world's bitterness,
If sorrow builds his hall within our breast,
And covers o'er our once unwrinkled brow
With gloom, as with a veil; need we to sneer
At those whose hearts as yet are fresh and free,
Untouched by Misery, and unsoiled by Sin?
No! and I hold the man who dares to scorn

The earnest sports and joys of Infancy,
A misanthrope, a gloomy, scowling knave.

I would not trust that man with power or sway-
Not for the world or all the world's vast wealth.
He would oppress all those beneath his thrall,
And prove himself a tyrant, dark and grim,
A friend to gloom, a foe to harmless joy.
That self same man, no matter who he be,
Alone for carnage and for strife is fit,
Not for the social ties of civil life.

Blockley, Pa., Sep, 1837.

AN Auturan noon-day sun shone warm and bright
On Boston's gilded spires; and Bunker raised
Its lofty crest, and high, looked down upon
Her temples and her roofs; and half way up
Its naked side,-behind a shelt'ring chain

Of bankments slight and rude,—there lay a band—
A patriot band of scantily arm'd men.

From far and near they came-their hearths and homes
Deserted, and the loved ones there awhile forgot-
For deeper thoughts were stirring in their breasts,
And busier scenes required their presence here.
No proud array was there, no clanging sound
Of brazen-throated trumpet stirr'd the stern,

Deep stillness of that phalanx lone and few

The pomp and circumstance of war" were not

But hushed-with darkling brows and eyes that flashed
Defiance to their hireling foes, they stood
Firm-footed on their country's soil-for her,

(For they had sworn to fight her blue hills free,)
A sacrifice. And they were mea, who left
Upon the unturned mould the plough,
And in the unshorn grain the sickle dropped-
From off the hook, above the chimney shelf,
That bore its venerated weight, they snatched
The rusty firelock, loved memorial

Of daring deeds that warlike sires had done.
Sons worthy of such sires, who heir'd as well
Their fathers' virtues, as their fathers' arms,
Now seized and bore them forth, to hurl among
Detested foes, death-dealing showers, and speak
In each report, " Revenge for Lexington!"
And there they stood in stern resolve, and gazed
With anxious eye adown the valley, where
The Briton host-in martial pride and power-
Came slowly on. Proudly as they are wont,
Who dare the carnage-field, seeking to deck

They have left the plains-they have gained the height,

Their bayonets flashing in the light

The sabre unsheathed-keen-edged and bright-
The musket levelled low;

With the dragon-banner above them borne-
With the wailing note of the bugle-horn-
With bitter taunt and galling scorn,

They move upon the foe.

On-onward they come as the wave in its path
From its progress reaps might—from the tempest its
wrath,

And battles the fiends of the deep;
They rush-as the mountain-blast rushes by,
With the forest-monarch uprooted high,

And whirling wreck to the lurid sky,

Arouseth the lightning from sleep.

They are met and the mad wave dashes its shock
With a powerless foam on the ocean-rock

Of the manly heart's resolve;

They are met and the host its might hath bowed
To the volley that sweeps through its columns proud,
As a ruling voice from the mountain cloud,
The whirlwind may dissolve.

Now, yeoman, remember your sire before ye,
And strike for the sake of the mother that bore ye,
Strike deep-for the blow shall to freedom restore ye,
The grave-or thy cottage-home;
Where the love-throng are waiting in hope thy return,
And hearts with expecting anxiety burn

For thy lingering step to come.

They fought-that little patriot band-like men,
Who gathered to defend a cause, for which
They dared to die. Unmoved, they stood before
The crushing onset of their mighty foe,

Their brows with blood-dipped leaf, the column'd foe, And bared their bosoms naked to the shock.

With bugle-blast and spirit-rousing drums,

And unfurled flag and burnished arms, that glanced
And glittered in the sun-light, and the tread
Of war-horse prancing in his course—with heads
Upraised in haughty fearlessness, and mien
Of lofty grace-within whose veins there coursed
Th' unmingled blood of ancient warriors

No limb there trembled-and no eye was there
That quailed before the fury of the storm.
With iron nerve-and still, as men too full
To shout-they met, and gave again the blow.
They raised no boisterous battle-cry, nor rent
The sulph'rous conflict-cloud with noisy rage;
But "Freedom," watch-word of the free, was writ

And kings, came on; and loud their war-notes pealed On every brow, and rang with fierce intensity,

Up the high hill and to the arching canopy.
As doth the conqueror from a glorious field
That his victorious arm hath won-they came;
And England's monarch-king had gathered there
The choicest spirits of her mighty land,
Whose names dying were to noble deeds
Allied -who-e hearts of iron knew not fear.
And such were marshalled 'neath the red-cross flag,
And came-obedient to a tyrant's will-
To quench the battle-thirst in kindred blood-
To rivet shackles on the freeman's wrist!

In every volley rattling from their ranks.

Thrice, on that bloody day, did Britain's pride
Give shameful way, before the firm repulse
Of that mere group of rude, untutored men:
Thrice, did her vanquished line that came in state,
And all the pomp of discipline and strength,
Leave on the well-fought field their choicest hearts.
The hirelings earned their fameless victory,
But on the green sward, wet with streaming gore,
Were heaped the gallant loved ones of their band.

Their noblest chiefs were slain, and there they | WARREN! first martyr in the holy strife!
lay-
Thou slaughtered witness of a despot's might!
The common herd and they-" in one red burial That noon-sun marked the evening of thy life,

Held, with a grasp that death itself could not un- Oh England! when 'mid pride of future dayslock,

FRIENDSHIP.

A CHAPTER FOR YOUTH.

BY A MEMBER OF THE PHILADELPHIA BAR.