drove up, he observed that both the shafts of his gig were broken, and that they were held together by withs formed from the bark of a hickory sapling. Our traveller observed further that he was plainly clad, that his knee buckles were loosened, and that something like negligence pervaded his dress. Conceiving him to be one of the honest yeomanry of our land, the courtesies of strangers passed between them, and they entered the tavern. It was about the same time that an addition of three or four young gentlemen was made to their number; most, if not all of them, of the legal profession.

As soon as they became conveniently accommodated, the conversation was turned by one of the latter, upon an eloquent harangue which had that day been displayed at the bar. It was replied by the other, that he had witnessed the same day, a degree of eloquence no doubt equal, but that it was from the pulpit. Something like a sarcastic rejoinder was made to the eloquence of the pulpit; and a warm and able altercation ensued, in which the merits of the Christian Religion became the subject of discussion. From six o'clock until eleven, the young champions wielded the sword of argument, adducing, with ingenuity and ability, every thing that could be said, pro and con. During this protracted period, the old gentleman listened with all the meekness and modesty of a child, as if he was adding new information to the stores of his own mind; or perhaps, he was observing, with philosophic eyes, the faculties of the youthful mind, and how new energies are evolved by repeated action; or perhaps, with patriotic emotion, he was reflecting upon the future destinies of his country, and on the rising generation upon whom those destinies must devolve; or most probably, with a sentiment of moral and religious feeling, he was collecting an argument, which, characteristic of himself, no art would be "able to elude, and no force to resist."-Our traveller remained a spectator, and took no part in what was said.

At last one of the young men remarked, that it was impossible to combat with long and established prejudices, wheeled around, and with some familiarity exclaimed, "Well, my old gentleman, what think you of these things?" If, said the traveller, a streak of vivid

lightning had at that moment crossed the room, their amazement could not have been greater than it was with what followed. The most eloquent and unanswerable appeal was made for nearly an hour by the old gentleman, that he had ever heard or read; so perfect was his recollection, that every argument urged against the Christian Religion, was met in the order in which it was advanced. Hume's sophistry on the subject of miracles was, if possible more perfectly answered than it had already been by Campbell. And in the whole lecture there was so much simplicity and energy, pathos and sublimity, that not another word was uttered—an attempt to describe it, said the traveller, would be an attempt to paint the sunbeams. It was immediately a matter of curiosity and inquiry who the old gentleman was: the traveller concluded it was the preacher, from whom the pulpit eloquence had been heard: but no, it was the

CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE UNITED STATES.

ADVERSITY.

Adversity has ever been considered as the state in which a man most easily becomes acquainted with himself; and this effect it must produce, by withdrawing flatterers, whose business it is to hide our weaknesses from us; or by giving loose to malice, and license to reproach; or, at least, by cutting off those pleasures which called us away from meditation on our own conduct, and repressing that pride which too easily persuades us that we merit whatever we enjoy.

VIRTUE.

It is not an inheritance of the wealthy,-nay, it rather resides in the cottage than the palace; but beset with all the ills which dependence inflicts, it is then that virtue is tried, and proved, as it were, in the furnace of affliction. "Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil," is a prominent part of the wisest petition ever offered up to the FOUNTAIN OF ALL GOOD, and it operates as a command upon all, that we should help one another.

PARENTS.

In general, those parents have most reverence, who most deserve it; for he that lives well cannot be despised.

POETRY & MUSIC.

THE HOUR OF DISTRESS.

O'tis not when the fairy breeze fans the green ocean,
That the safety and strength of the bark can be shown;
And 'tis not in Prosperity's hour, the devotion,

The fervor and truth of a friend can be known.

No! the bark must be prov'd when the tempest is howling,
When dangers and mountain-waves close on her press;
The friend when the sky of Adversity's scowling,

For the touchstone of Friendship's-the hour of distress. When Prosperity's day-star beams pure and unclouded, Then thousands will mingle their shouts round its throne. But Oh! let its light for one moment be shrouded,

And the smiles of the faithless-like shadows, are gone.
Then comes the true friend, who to guile is a stranger,
The heart of the lone one to soothe and caress;
While his smile, like the beacon-light, blazing in danger,
Sheds a beam o'er the gloom of the hour of distress.
O'tis sweet 'mid the horrors of bleak desolation,
While pleasure and hope seem eternally flown,
When the heart is first lit by the dear consolation,
That a haven of happiness yet may be won.

Grief fades like a night cloud; bliss mingles with sorrows,
When the first sunny rays through the darkness appear,
And the rainbow of hope beameth bright as it borrows.
All its splendor and light from a smile and a tear.

O'tis those whose life's path hath been clouded and cheerless,
Can feel that full burst of pure transport and bliss,
When the trusted and tried friend comes boldly and fearless,
To share, or relieve the dark hour of distress.

Past griefs may yet cease to be thought on, but never
Can time make the feeling of gratitude less;

May the blessing of God rest for ever and ever
On him who forsook not in hours of distress.

TIME.

I saw him hasting on his way,

And mark'd his light'ning flight;
Where'er he moved, there stern decay
Spread his destructive blight.

Rapid the gloomy phantom hied,
Envelop'd in the storm-

His eye shone out in sullen pride,
And fearful was his form.

I saw him grasp the Warrior's wreath,
Won in the gory fray-

The laurel withering sunk in death,
Its beauty fled away;

That wreath was stain'd with bloody dew,
Unhallow'd was its bloom-

It met the phantom's chilling view,
And bow'd beneath its gloom.

I saw him pass by Beauty's bower,
And listen to her lay-

Around the spot was many a flower
Blooming its summer day;
With icy heart the spectre came,
Her lovely form compressed-
She met his lurid eye of flame-
The tombstone tells the rest.

On Youth's warm brow his hand he press'd,
'Twas cold as mould'ring clay-
He laid his arm on Manhood's breast,
The life-pulse ceas'd to play.

His fell siroc* o'er Nature pass'd,
And low she droop'd her head-
Her blossoms wither'd in the blast,
And all her verdure fled.

But hark! a mighty Angel's voicef
Will publish Time's decease,
And Jesus raise the dust of saints,
Which long had slept in peace;
Then, cruel Time, the friends of God,
Rais'd high above thy power,
And sav'd by their Redeemer's blood,
Shall live, to die no more.

SPRING.-BY MARY HOWETT.
The spring-she is a blessed thing!
She is the mother of the flowers!
She is the mate of birds and bees,
The partner of their revelries,

Our star of hope through wintry hours.
The merry children when they see
Her coming, by the budding thorn,
They leap upon the cottage floor,
They shout beside the cottage door,

And run to meet her night and morn.
They are soonest with her in the woods,
Peeping the withered leaves among,
To find the earliest, fragrant thing,
That dares from the cold earth to spring,
Or catch the earliest wild bird's song.

* A desolating wind. + Rev. x. 5, 6.

The little brooks run on in light,
As if they had a chase of mirth;
The skies are blue, the air is warm:
Our very hearts have caught the charm
That sheds a beauty over earth.
The aged man is in the field,

The maiden 'mong her garden flowers,
The sons of sorrow and distress
Are wandering in forgetfulness,

Of wants that fret and care that lowers.
She comes with more than present good-
With joys to store for future years,
From which in striving crowds apart,
The bowed in spirit, bruised in heart,
May glean up hope with grateful tears.
Up-let us to the fields away.

And breathe the fresh and balmy air:
The bird is building in the tree,

The flower has opened to the bee,

And health, and love, and peace are there!

EVENING.

How calm and beautiful is Day's sweet close!
Its breeze is balm unto the wounded soul,-
That feels a kindred peace, a mild repose,
"Neath gentle Evening's reign.-Tho spells that stole
The mind from loftier aspiration, now
Are powerless and past. The weary, blest
With transient calm, own a reviving glow!
Meanwhile each finer impulse of the breast
Trembles with love and gratitude profound
To Him who gave alternate morn and night,
The Sun to wheel his life rekindling round,
And yon sweet orb to pour her sacred light.
These are the transports of thy votaries, EVEN!
These are thy charms, that win the soul to Heaven!

THE INFANT.

I saw an infant-health, and joy, and light,
Bloom'd on its cheek, and sparkled in its eye;
And its fond mother stood delighted by
To see its morn of being dawn so bright.
Again I saw it, when the withering blight
Of pale disease had fallen, moaning lie

On the sad mother's breast-stern death was nigh,
And Life's young wings were fluttering for their flight}
Last I beheld it stretch'd upon the bier,

Like a fair flower untimely snatch'd away,
Calm, and unconscious of its mother's tear,
Which on its placid cheek unheeded lay-
But on its lip the unearthly smile express'd,
"Oh! happy child; untried, and early bless'd."