"So you are going to take an airing this morning, Commodore!" said Montague, as he saw the old man getting into a wagon in the street. "Yes, Squire; you see I am taken from my work"holding out a lame foot-"and so I am going on some business into the country." "Now that is the most provoking thing I ever knew you do, cousin Hubert!" said Alice. "But I will find out, if I go to Delanty's on purpose!" "But I tell you they do not know, Alice; and beside, if a motive of benevolence would not draw you to them, when they were in distress, pray do not let so poor a "How long have you been lame? and what is the one as curiosity procure them a visit, now that they are matter with your foot?" asked Montague. comparatively happy." "I sprained it a fortnight ago, sir-and it is almost the same as well now-only Miss Margarette made me promise not to try to use it too soon." Margarette stayed by most perseveringly this morning. She would have given almost any thing would Alice have left the room, if only for one minute. Great was her satisfaction when her cousin hastily rose, say "Miss Margarette ?-Margarette Claremont ?" said Montague. "Does she advise you about your lame-ing-“I entirely forgot to send Mrs. Frost the pattern ness?" "Yes, and more than that, Mr. Montague, for, under Providence, she has cured it. There hasn't been a day since I hurt it, in which she has not come and tended it herself, bathing it with her own little hands, in a medicine she brought a-purpose. I couldn't put her off, Mr. Montague! And when she has so patiently and kindly sat, with the old man's foot in her lap, I'll tell you what I thought; I thought-here is the very spirit of Him who said-'If I, then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye ought also to wash one another's feet'—and the tears ran down my old cheeks whether I would or no." There was a slight rising in Montague's throat, but he checked it, and inquired-"How far the Commodore was going." "I don't know exactly, Squire, as I am going to buy a cow, and want to hunt up a pretty good one." "A cow!" said Montague-" What in the world can you do with a cow?" "Why, she isn't for my own use, Mr. Montague, though she is to be kind o' mine-but that's neither here nor there, and I must be going, as I want to get back in good season. Good day, Squire," and the Commodore drove off. of my new pelerine. I must do it this moment." She had scarcely closed the door, ere Margarette said, "I must do away the mistake under which you labor, Mr. Montague. The Delantys are indebted to my uncle, and not to me. I was only the channel through which his bounty flowed." "Mr. Claremont was then Mrs. Delanty's nurse!" said Montague, smiling. "O no, not that-but the clothing and the cow were purchased with his money." "I understand it perfectly," said Montague. "I have seen my cousin's neck, encircled by a pearl-necklace ; but Miss Claremont preferred relieving the sufferings of a poor Irish family, to adorning her own person." "But Mr. Montague!" said Margarette. "But Miss Claremont !” said Montague, laughing. “Very well,” said Margarette, in great perplexity what to say," you must think as you will." "I will think as I must," said Montague,-"and bid 1 you good morning." A few weeks after the above conversation took place, Mr. Claremont, on returning from a morning's ride, was thrown from his horse, a few rods from his own door, and was brought in, apparently lifeless. At the appalA few days after this, when Montague was one morn-ling spectacle, both his nieces obeyed the impulse of ing at Mr. Claremont's, it came into Alice's mind to in- nature, and turned to fly. But Margarette had scarcely quire after his protégés, the Delanty's. begun her retreat, ere she returned. "I must face it," thought she, "however dreadful! kind heaven sustain me!" Without much apparent agitation, she gave directions, and assisted in conveying her uncle to his room; and before medical aid could arrive, employed herself in examining his limbs, to ascertain whether they were broken, and then in chafing his hands and head, to produce, if possible, some signs of life. All beside herself, seemed nearly delirious from fright. “O, they are all well, and in comparatively comfortable circumstances," said Montague. "They have found a very kind friend, who has furnished them with comfortable clothing, besides lending them a cow. Should they be the survivors, I think they would canonize her," added he, smiling. "Her!" said Alice. "Is it a lady, then ?" "Yes, the same young lady that I told you assisted in nursing the mother. I wish you could hear them express their gratitude, in their own emphatic dialect, with their strong Irish feelings?" The news of the accident flew like wild-fire, and in twenty minutes Montague was at the house. He found Alice in the parlor, walking the floor, and wringing her "It is strange who it can be," said Alice. "Have hands, in an agony of distress, constantly exclaiming— they not yet found out?" "It seems she has been very careful to conceal her name," said Montague, "as they have not yet learned it. But yesterday I was there, and they pointed her out to me, as she at that moment chanced to pass by." "And did you know her, Hubert ?" eagerly inquired Alice. my dear uncle!"-"my poor, dear uncle." In answer to Montague's hasty inquiries, she exclaimed"O, he is dead!-my dear, dear uncle !-and what will become of his own poor Alice?-doubly-doubly an orphan ?" Montague hastened to Mr. Claremont's room, hopeless of learning any thing of his situation from his cou"I did," said Montague, "but I did not tell them, sin. The physician and surgeon were both there, and as she seems so desirous to 'do good by stealth,' and there was Margarette-pale as a statue, and appawould doubtless blush to find it fame'-and neither rently as firm, supporting her uncle's head on her bowill I tell you, cousin Alice," he added, as Margarette som. There was a deathlike silence in the room, cast on him a look of mingled distress and supplication. while the medical gentlemen were endeavoring to re store animation; while all feared that their endeavors | "Her sensibility results in good to no one, for she has would prove useless. A groan at length announced no sympathy. Her character used to interest me, until that the vital spark was not extinguished, and Mr. I saw it contrasted with one so much more valuable— Claremont opened his eyes on his niece. so much more exalted!-It was you, my dearest wife, "Dear uncle," said Margarette, "do you know me ?" who first taught me the strong distinction betwixt sym"Margarette!" murmured Mr. Claremont. 66 pathy and sensibility,—and how utterly useless the lat "Away with her, Mr. Montague," said the physi- ter is, when unaccompanied by the former. With Alice, cian-" she is gone!" it is not love for Gordon, but self-love that is the cause Montague clasped her in his arms, and bore her out of her thus pining. Let some other romantic looking of the room, while a servant hastened after with resto- knight appear, and sue for her hand, and her affections ratives. "She must be mine!" thought Montague, as would be at once transformed. Should no such one aphe supported her lifeless frame, while the servant resorted pear, she will by degrees degenerate into a peevish, to the usual means of restoration," she must be mine! useless, discontented, burdensome old maid. And Such benevolence without ostentation,-such firmness the best advice I could give to any young lady of and deep feeling,—such exalted worth and true humili- great sensibility, and who would be either useful or ty, are a rare combination! She must be my own!" happy, is-That she should strive to forget her own Mr. Claremont was scarcely able to leave his room, sorrows, whether real or imaginary, and expend her to which he was confined several weeks, ere Montague sympathies on the afflictions and distresses of her felasked him, if he would bestow upon him his niece. low-creatures. By so doing, the benevolence of her "Yes, take her Montague," said Mr. Claremont, heart would be constantly expanding, until she would "take her as the choicest treasure one man ever bestow-on earth approximate to the character of an angel,— ed on another. I know no man but yourself, worthy of and when the summons came, would drop the garment her hand and heart." of mortality, and shine a seraph in eternal day." An almost convulsive pressure of the hand, was the only sign of gratitude Montague could give. Well, who was at the wedding?-and when did it take place?—It took place in a few months, and a large company was assembled,-for Mr. Claremont hated a private wedding. The Black Prince was one of the guests. "Are they not a beautiful-a fine-looking couple, Mr. Gordon?" said Alice, after the great cake was cut, and the congratulations were over. “O, yes”—said Gordon-" as fine pieces of statuary as one could wish to look upon! Montague, indeed, has fire enough—the more fortunate for him, for a deal it must have taken to thaw the ice of your cousin!" "They are both a little singular," said Alice, "yet they love each other tenderly. How happy they will be! How sweet life must be, when congenial hearts are thus united forever!" “Yes,—perhaps so-but after all, sweet Alice, it is better to do, as you and I do―love each other, and still be free!-I would not link my fate with that of any woman in the world. I am quite sure, that I should hate even you, sweetest,-angel as you are, could you call me husband. O, there is something killing to all romance, in the very sound of that word!-Do you not agree with me, dearest ?" Alice could not utter a syllable-but cast on him a heart-rending look of mingled disappointment, mortification and astonishment!-"False!-ungrateful! cruel!"-at length she murmured-and hastened to her chamber, at once to indulge and conceal the bitterness of her feelings. S. H. There is little merit in the following lines besides that rare merit in poetry, their truth. They were written in the place of the writer's nativity, where he had at length settled down, after an absence of thirty years. which the former owner had not yet removed his famiThey were written in a house just purchased, and from She was young, beautiful, accomplished, newly marly, and were inserted in the Album of his daughter. ried, and wealthy. Though confined to her room by bad health, she was preparing for a voyage to Europe, since happily accomplished. то We met as strangers, Lady, tho' the scenes "Alice is mourning herself to death, for that worth-The hope that guides thy steps to distant lands, less, heartless Gordon," said Margarette to Montague, some time after their marriage. "She is doing what she has ever done," said Montague-" thinking only of herself, and cherishing feelings that are totally destructive of all that is valuable in character." "She has keen sensibility," said Margarette. In quest of pleasures, such as boundless wealth, Where the fierce savage whets the vengeful knife But O! to leave the scenes of happy youth- Known! yet unknown! In traces faint but indestructible Has sketched. And I would be remembered too, Have found my way back to my native bowers, POPULAR EDUCATION. B. T. Towards the close of the sixteenth century, Galileo, while seated in the Cathedral of Pisa, had his attention attracted by the swinging of a lamp suspended from the ceiling. Observing that it performed its vibrations apparently in equal times, whether moving over small or great arcs, he was led to the investigation of the laws of its oscillation, and thus called the attention of philosophers to an instrument, which in the multiplicity of its applications has since proved of incalculable benefit to mankind. It seems strange that a motion so familiar as the vibration of a suspended body had never before attracted the notice of observing minds; and still more strange would it seem, if, after its laws had been discovered, and its important practical applications ascertained, it had never been applied to its useful purposes. Yet has mankind very generally down to the present day, thus neglected an instrument of more extensive application than the pendulum. I allude to Popular Education, an agent certainly the most important of any that can be applied to the melioration of the condition of the human race. That knowledge is power, stands in no need of proof or formal illustration. It may be assumed as axiomatic. But if we reason from the conduct of mankind, we shall be led to the conclusion that the aphorism applies only when society is viewed in its constituent parts, and not when the whole mass is regarded. Still speculatively it is allowed to be of general application. How is this inconsistency to be reconciled? Has the importance of Education become one of those propositions which from being universally admitted, have ceased to interest the curiosity or engage the attention of mankind? Has the policy of former ages of keeping in ignorance the great body of the people, in order that they might be the more readily oppressed by the enlightened few, who held the reins of government, grown into a custom too inveterate for the more enlarged speculations of modern times to remove? These inquiries we will not pursue, but will proceed to offer some observations on the advantages of Popular Education. over a philosophic mind. We learn from the Spectator* that he did not entirely refuse his assent to the existence of ghosts, apparitions and witchcraft. In the time of this eminent writer, a period distinguished in the history of English Literature, there was scarce a village in England in which witchcraft was not accredited; so little authority did the great men of that age, who by their writings have had an acknowledged influence on the moral improvement of the nation, exert in eradicating superstition from the minds of the unenlightened common people. Under Popular Education may be included an acquaintance with Reading, Writing, English Grammar, Geography, and the leading principles of Science; such information in fact as would enable the people to avail themselves of the lessons contained in books, and to discharge with ease and propriety the various avocations of common life. The advantages of Popular Education as thus defined are so diversified and so connect ed with the whole intertexture of society, as to render it impracticable on the present occasion to trace them out fully. Only some of its most striking effects on the condition of the people can be noticed. My purpose Education exerts a negai agency in promoting however will be effected, if I shall succeed in directing human happiness by removing superstition, one of its the attention of my young friends, many of whom will greatest enemies. But by expanding the mind to more shortly engage in the busy scenes of life, to a subject enlarged conceptions of the order and beauty of the fraught with interest to our common country, to a cause universe, it makes a real addition to the sum of human which, in the various stages they may occupy in society, enjoyments. Our capacities are at best but extremely will demand their liberal, zealous and patriotic support. limited. It has been permitted to us however, to exBy the general diffusion of information, superstition plore the threshold of the labyrinth of nature. Our will be banished from amongst the people. Superstition discoveries present us at every step with ends wisely has been defined, "the error of those, who in their opi- and beneficently planned, and means adapted with the nion of the causes on which the fate of men depends, most admirable simplicity and economy to the producbelieve or disbelieve without judgment or knowledge." tion of those ends. No human investigation has ever It is a compound of the credulity and fears of men-a advanced so far as to point out aught of error in the monster truly of frightful mien-destructive of the hap-arrangement of the system of things around us. Every piness of individuals, by continually presenting to the thing, whose purpose we can understand, bears the mind imaginary causes of terror, and associating with impress of wisdom. How elevating to the mind of man the most common occurrences of life, the dread of im- to rise from the contemplation of this visible order, to a pending calamity—no less destructive of the welfare Being on whom we can rely with the utmost surety as of nations, by affording an agent which designing men having arranged every thing, not only in our small will ever be ready to employ in effectuating their planet but in the whole immensity of creation, with the schemes of oppression. It is indeed the fulcrum on same admirable wisdom and economy which our limited which ambition may gain a leverage for moving the faculties enable us to trace in the small part which falls moral world. The feelings to which it gives rise are of under our immediate inspection! Yet to the vulgar a uniform character, and when they pervade a whole mind is denied this ennobling feeling. The ignorant people, to address them effectually no great diversity of means are required. Hence the important part it has played in the subversion of kingdoms and revolutions of empires. Examples need not be adduced to illustrate its pernicious influence on individual and national happiness. It stands in bold relief on almost every page of history; three-fourths of the habitable globe are at this day living monuments of its power. The rest is still marked by the traces of its slow retreat. man "marks not the mighty hand That ever-busy wheels the silent spheres; It is true, all people, all nations have acknowledged a The only effectual barrier to the desolating influence Supreme Being. But wherever the human mind has of superstition is to be found in the diffusion of Popular been enthralled by ignorance, he has been acknowlEducation. Teach men that a sequitur is not necessa-edged rather as a being of Terror than as a being of rily an effect, and they will cease to regard many of the Benevolence. 'Tis Education that endues men's minds ordinary occurrences of life as portentous because they have once been accidentally conjoined with misfortunes. They will cease to regard those phenomena of the material world which present nature in aspects awful and sublime, as ominous of convulsions in the moral or political world. with a just sense of the attributes of the Supreme Being, and brings them acquainted with their own high destiny, and is in truth, as it has been defined to be, the "handmaid of Religion." Among an educated people morality and private virtue must flourish. For in the language of Lord Bacon, The influence of the enlightened few will never be "learning disposeth the constitution of the mind not to able to banish superstition from the unenlightened mul-be fixed in the defects thereof, but still to be susceptible titude. To eradicate it the torch of knowledge must be lit in every mind. So far from superstitious prejudices being removed by the authority of philosophers, they are contracted by them from the illiterate, through the influence of early education, and are persisted in through a disposition in the human mind to regard with some degree of favor that which has been believed in all ages, however absurd in reason. Addison affords a remarkable instance of the influence of popular belief of growth and improvement." The human mind is endowed with a variety of passions, implanted in it for the wisest purposes, but requiring the control of reason not to run into excesses destructive of individual happiness and the peace of society. A cultivated mind not only controls the impetuosity of those passions which hurry onward into crime and misery, but peculiarly *Nos. 110 and 117. encourages the growth of those benevolent affections whose gratification rests on prospective good. In the constitution of the mind experience shows the striking fact (and it pleads forcibly in favor of the general diffusion of Education among the people) that the growth of the malevolent affections is nurtured by ignorance, and that of the benevolent by knowledge. The former are more truly the instinctive affections and generally operate under immediate stimuli. The latter may be termed the rational affections, for their stimuli are often remote and chiefly felt by the mind, which traces the relations of things and sees the intimate connexion of virtue with individual and general happiness. satiety from sensual indulgences. A book may beguile the tedium of a gloomy day, draw the mind abroad, and prevent its dwelling on imaginary ills that more truly destroy happiness than real misfortunes. The mind must have its excitement; and if it is not endued with that degree of knowledge necessary to stimulate inquiry, and afford a relish for books, it is liable to seek for this excitement in the brutalizing indulgences of the sensual appetites or in the uncontrolled movements of the passions. By furnishing the minds of the people with the due degree of elementary instruction, the best security will be afforded of their minds being usefully or innocently employed, instead of being perverted to their own misery and the disturbance of the public tranquillity. Such are some of the moral effects of Education. Its diffusion among the people tends to improve their individual and social happiness. It is likewise the great The diffusion of Education will heighten and extend the pleasures of social intercourse, pleasures which truly "exalt, embellish, and render life delightful." Regard for a moment the condition of the savage in that intercourse with his fellows, where sensual indulgences and rude exultation in the slaughter of his enemies, consti-instrument of improvement in the arts and sciences. tute the chief of that happiness which their society affords. Think of the aged and infirm parent falling under the parricidal hand, because forsooth his limbs are no longer active in the chase, his arm no longer nerved to deal the deadly blow to an insulting adversary. Think of the sick and afflicted, deserted in their last moments and left to expire without the hand of friendship to close the dying eye. Think of woman, formed to soothe, to polish and refine our ruder natures, doomed to a degrading servitude, and thought worthy only to minister to the passions of their haughty lords. From this rude society turn to that of civilized life. Benevolence spreads her arms to embrace the human race. Sympathy awakens at the notes of woe. Charity forgets not her work of love, but visits the habitation of poverty and wretchedness, and with a generous hand relieves want and soothes the wounds of adversity. Filial piety softens the pillow of declining age. Whilst friendship and affection wait upon the couch of sickness, forgetful of fatigue, contagion and death. In scenes of health and prosperity, peace and joy reign-mutual confidence and endearment characterize domestic liferational enjoyment marks the social circle, nurturing feelings which strengthen the bonds imposed upon mankind by mutual wants and mutual dependance. Lovely woman holds her just ascendancy-shines alike in every relation of life—a voluntary homage paid to her charms -her smile encouraging to virtuous enterprise and noble achievement-her frown chilling the ardor of even hardy insolence and impious daring. Does this contrast result from difference in mental cultivation? History presents it as the primary cause. Ignorance and barbarism, as applied to nations, may in fact be considered as convertible terms. But if in reference to social intercourse, such effects as those which civilized society presents, are the results of the increase and diffusion of knowledge among the comparatively small portion of mankind who enjoy its immediate advantages, what might we not expect from the general spread of information among the whole body of the people? Discoveries and inventions are said to be the product of the age in which they are made, rather than of the individuals who are immediately instrumental in bringing them forward. But are they not dependant more on the spread of knowledge among the people at large, than on any unusual advancement in learning among philosophers themselves? Speculative philosophy has done much in promoting useful inventions and discoveries. But on the other hand, how much that is really useful do we not owe to the active minds of those engaged in the ordinary vocations of life, and who never had the advantages of instruction in the higher branches of science? It would be a curious and interesting inquiry to trace out the numerous improvements in the arts and sciences, for which we are indebted to geniuses rising superior to the disadvantages of fortune and early education. The list of such names as Ferguson, Watt, Scheele, would be found to swell the catalogue of those whose exertions have contributed to enlarge the field of science, and extend the power of man over the physical creation. Genius is confined to no rank-it is to be found in all the grades of society. Spread elementary instruction among the people, extend to them the means of improvement, and superior minds wherever fortune may have placed them, will not long remain in obscurity. Their inherent vigor will break through difficulties, surmount obstacles, and supply the deficiences occasioned by the want of a collegiate education. In order too that profit be derived from the improvements of scientific men, the minds of the people must be sufficiently imbued with information to appreciate their labors, and to throw off prejudices and break through established customs so far as to adopt in practice what speculation teaches will be useful. Many important discoveries made in preceding ages, when the mass of the people were sunk in ignorance, have been lost to us, because there was not that diffusion of information necessary for preserving and handing them down. It may be said that science has nothing to fear from such a state of things for the future, since the press and other Turning from society to the individual in his solitary means of diffusing information preclude all danger of moments, knowledge is no less the friend of human any of its discoveries being lost. We readily admit happiness. It affords materials from which the activity the great advantages afforded by the press and the exof the mind weaves a pleasing entertainment, when tensive intercourse between different parts of the world friends are no longer present to cheer with their social in preserving and transmitting knowledge. But how converse, and when the appetites revolt by reason of many discoveries which contained the germs of future |