MARCUS AND MONIMIA.

[Vol. I.

art now deprived of the sole blessing the world had to bestow upon thee! Yes, there are mortals predestined to be unhappy, and I am one of those wretched victims whose lot is misery. -Your father, say you, Monimia, was it he who instigated you to take the religious vow? who compelled you to commit this act of suicide? Unnatural wretch!--Surely he deserves not such a name. He is not to be called a father who can sacrifice his child to ava rice and pride; nor is it religion to take a vow which God and nature forbid. O happy country! where an hereditary obligation binds the father to provide for his child, and where such passions find no resource to break the natural tye.-O Monimia! whither art thou going! Stay for heaven's sake." The curfew tolled its solemn knell. Marcus started, as one awakened from a frightful dream; he stood fixed and motionless; till recollecting Monimia's last request, he hurried to the fatal spot. Scarce had he arrived, ere Monimia entered the chapel, encircled with a numerous convoy of relations, and bedecked in all the elegance and splendour which art and nature could bestow. The religieux of the order were arranged on each side of the altar; who, as soon as Monimia entered the chapel,

(Concluded from page 178.) WHILST such were the sentiments of Monimia, no wonder she endeavoured to avoid her impending doom; but her father remained inflexible. He begged, he admonished, he reasoned, he urged, and commanded. Monimia, knowing his disposition, and the dreadful consequence, should he have the smallest suspicion of her attachment to Marcus, reluctantly complied; and the day, the fatal day, the burial of Monimia, was fixed. And now the effects which timid bashfulness had hitherto witheld, were no longer concealed; Marcus and Monimia now mutually exchanged their long withholden tale. Much had he to say: a thousand chimeras, a thousand romantic projects filled his labouring breast: the more he wished to tell them, the less was he able; and the moment of utterance was that of separation. "Fail not, says Monimia, fail not, as you regard my affection and esteem, to be present at the ceremony. From the moment in which I appear in all the pride and ornaments of the world, to that of my interment, I entreat, I conjure you to grant me this, my last request. Marcus swore to obey, and afterwards, like a true Petrarch, to follow the example of his Laura.-Mo-began their pious hymn; and in melonimia having obtained her request tore herself away. Marcus remained motionless; till his weary eyes, no longer able to pursue the object of their delight, dissolved in tears. "Miserable, unhappy wretch! (exclaims he) thou

dious strains sung the folly and misery of the world, and the happiness and tranquillity of the life of the religious. On the right of the altar was the bishop of the province, to whom the head of the order, the hymn being finished,

presented Monimia. The first ques- through life, than almost any single accomplishment.

tion was then demanded-" Dost thou thoroughly despise, and hate the folly and vanity of the world, and canst thou dedicate the remainder of thy life to God and religion?" Monimia having given the affirmative, was conducted from the chapel into the convent, to be stript of all her pompous ornaments, and to prepare to make the last, the fatal vow. The little bell gave the tinkling signal; and in an instant reentered the abbess with the rest of the order, bearing the coffin of Monimia, and chanting her solemn dirge. Monimia followed, now dressed in the habit of a religieuse; her beauteous long training locks cut off, and a veil concealing her charming countenance.Once more she was conducted to the bishop, in the midst of the whole order and her numerous relations, to make the last, the binding vow.-A solemn silence now ensued. Monimia looked around, and espied her Marcus, his eyes fixed on her, and petrified to the spot." I accept him (she cried) for my husband, and here make my solemn vow to be eternally his."-The reverend prelate, indignant as he was, was obliged to ratify it when thus made, and to join the hands of Marcus and Monimia.

RUDIMENTS OF TASTE and a POLITE FEMALE
EDUCATION.

Letter 6, School Education, concluded.

This knowledge of physiognomy, which is perhaps only to be acquired at schools, by given a promptitude of understanding the present approbation or dislike, and the good or bad designs, of those with whom we converse, becomes of hourly use in almost every department of life.

Fifthly, where languages are learnt by conversation, as is generally practised in teaching the French, a school education properly conducted, is much superior to that of a tutor in a private family. And languages are so much easier taught to children by conversation than by the abstract rules of grammar, that Mr. Locke is solicitous to have the Latin and Greek taught by conversation in boys' schools; and thinks the seven or eight years now occupied in learning words, might be much better employed in acquiring a knowledge of things.

The philosopher, who despising the goods of fortune said, "he was rich, though he carried about him every thing which he possessed," meant to assert, that strength of mind joined with strength of body, were superior to any other advantages of life. A good education furnishes us with this inestimable treasure; it accompanies us at home, travels with us abroad; delights us in solitude, graces us in society, comforts us in misfortune, guards us in prosperity, contributes to the happiness of others, and ensures our own.

A third superiority of school education arises from an emulation, which naturally exists, where many pursue the same studies, but which should not be encouraged by rewards or degradaTHE MAGDALEN-A Fragment. tions; as it may then degenerate into "I have neither eat nor drank for envy or hatred; but should in general" two days-nor have I laid my head be left entirely to its own operation as "upon a pillow for a week-and I am shall be more fully pointed out hereaf-" drenched with the snow that falls upalmost naked body-my limbs " are almost numbed with cold-0 re"lieve me for heaven's sake!"

ter.

A fourth advantage of school education is from the children acquiring a kind of practical physiognomy; which renders them more intelligent, and more interesting companions; and is of greater consequence in our passage

66

on my

These words, respirated with a tremulous sound, and broken accent, closed with a sigh the most piteous.

They issued from a creature crouch

d up against a door-a female who | Profession she has none and if ad taken shelter from the inclemency she had, she wants what the world of the night, under the penthouse of a calls character-or rather, SHE HAS hop.

The voice of sorrow, though feeble, nsinuates its prayers to the heart, with he subtlety of plaintive music. I felt nine in perfect unison. Every nerve ibrated. I had passed the door, and vas going back, when that cautious old irgin, Prudence, said, go on. Turning from the object who had ccosted me, Charity stood still in front -She laid her hand upon my breast, nd put the following interrogatories to

ne.

THE WORST CHARACTER IN THE

WORLD-SHE IS UNFORTUNATE!
But I will take care of thee, Mag-
dalen.

T

SELF EXAMINATION.

However easy it may be to discover the faults of others, and to expose their failings, yet to examine our own conduct, and to become acquainted with our own character, is a task from which we all shrink. This ignorance of ourselves, or rather this desire to remain so, is one of the most conclusive proofs of our depravity.

Conscience takes the alarm, and appears in

Have you a wife? a sister? a daugh-condemnation against us, whenever we ater? a female relation? or a female riend?

tempt to unlock that "store house of iniqui ty," which is in the bosom of us all. This is the reason, perhaps, that we are so long deterIf you have not, remember you haded from the important work of endeavouring mother! remember you are a man!to, "know ourselves."

This truth ought, however, to be engraven While Charity thus urged my feel- on the minds of all, that the longer they re1gs, I involuntarily returned to thefrain from the task, the more difficult it will be pot where the unhappy girl lay. to accomplish, and the greater the probability There Charity held me fast-and that it will never be performed. 'rudence stepped to the other side of le street, to assist a drunken old deauchee, in calling a watchman to escort im home.

The girl before me was an object deanding assistance from five out of the even works of mercy-she was hung7, thirsty, naked, sick, and a stranger. A short conversation discovered she as the daughter of an old friend.

It had been the father's misfortune › spend his patrimony in the service f one who paid him with promises. Disappointment broke his heart— rief deprived his widow of life-and duction robbed his daughter of her irtue.

There was but one way to adminisr relief. I clothed her with my surut-brought her home and roused le servant, who prepared for her a ipper and bed.

Let us leave her there, and enquire hat is to be done with her.

She is a child that providence has rown in my way, and must not be eglected.

A sailor belonging to a man of war having been, for his good behaviour promoted, was or

dered on shore to receive his commission at
the admiralty office. Jack went accordingly,
and afterwards thus described his recep-
tion to his companions "I bore away at
and on entering the harbour espied a dozen or
large,"
," said he, "for the Admiralty office;
two quill drivers: I hailed 'em ;-not a word
said they. "Hallo!" said I. Not a word said
they. Shiver my topsails, but what can this
mean!" said I. Then I took a guinea from my
pocket, and holding it up to my peeper, “Hal-
lo!" again said I. "Oh! Hallo," returned
they. "So, so, my boys, cried I, "you are
like Balaam's ass, are you? You could not
speak until you saw the Angel!

During the late war, an ox was roasted in Boston, in honour of General Dumourier's success over the combined powers. A few days after the boys of Cambridge, animated with the like spirit, caught a large rat, formed procession, and roasted him in open day. During the performance of the rites, the question of what are those boys about," was asked: Oh, says a gentleman who was a spectator of the ceremony, "they are only RAT-ifying the civic proceedings of the people.

TO A LADY.

O, DAPHNE, leave those silly arts,
Too gross for nature to endure,
Nor boast the charm of stealing hearts;
Be thankful if you one secure :
Give, give this affectation o'er,
And play the vain coquet no more.
Youth's fond allurements fade apace,
And Beauty's reign is nearly o'er;
The waving curls no longer grace,
But yield disgust at fifty four.
Do, Daphne, therefore, wear a cape,
Nor longer children's manners ape.
That open bosom well might charm
The eyes of every gazing beau,
If there carnations, blushing warm,

Were crimson'd on the hills of snow;
But as the flowers have lost their bloom,
Gauze might be useful, I presume.
Those eyes have many summers seen,
And time that front to wrinkles wears;
I think thy countenance has been

In my remembrance forty years;
And, oh! I tell it not with scorn,
But thou wert old ere I was born!

THE VOLUNTEER'S FAREWELL,
The trumpet sounds, my country calls,
A hostile band her shores invade ;
I go to brave their cannon balls.

And dye, in blood, my battle blade,
O MARY! gentle and sincere,

Grieve not, I pray, when thus we part!
Wipe from your eye the tender tear,
And banish sorrow from your heart.
For should I, coward like, await

The foe's approach in martial pride,
And see him force our farm-house gate,
With Lust and Rapine by his side-
I could not bear the keen rebuke,

Tell him 'twas thus our heroes fought;

And MARY, be thou sure to tell
Our little one, that thus he ought
To fight-for thus his father fell.

ODE.

The women tell me, every day,
That all my bloom has past away.
"Behold," the pretty wantons cry,
"Behold this mirror with a sigh
"The locks upon thy brow are few,
"And, like the rest, they're with'ring too!"
Whether decline has thinn'd my hair,"
I'm sure I neither know nor care;
But this I know, and this I feel,
As onward to the tomb I steal,
That still, as death approaches nearer,
The joys of life are sweeter, dearer ;
And had I but an hour to live,
That little hour to bliss I'd give !

111

THE MORALIST.

Hark the bollow moaning wind
Sweeps along the midnight air;
Sullen as the guilty mind,

Hidden source of dark despair.
See the death-wing'd light'nings fly;
Desolation marks their way;
Fatal as the vengeful eye,

Fixing on its destined prey.
Dreadful thunders threat'ning roll
Viewless, 'midst the turbid clouds ;
So the fierce relentless soul,

Hate's empoison'd arrow shrouds.
See, the billowy oceans breast,
Sway'd by ev'ry wav'ring wind;
Rises, foams, and sinks to rest,
Fickle, as the human mind.
Sweetly blooms the rose of May,
Glitt'ring with the tears of morn;
So, insidious smiles betray,

While they hide the treach'rous thorn.
Mark gay Summer's glowing prime,
Shadow'd by the twilight gloom;
So, the ruthless wing of time
Bends the fairest to the tomb.

Thy screams would speak in that dread Moralist! where'er you move,

hour,

I could not bear thy helpless look
When struggling with their ruffian power.
No bring my war-horse; I'll away,

And meet the invaders on the strand;
And they shall sorely rue the day
They dar'd upon our coast to land.
O! there will be a gallant host

Of freedom's sons, array'd in fight;
And I will seek the bloodiest post,
And combat with a giant's might.
But weep not, MARY, if I fall,

Nor heave thy bosom with a sigh;
Death is the common lot of all:"
'Tis for MY COUNTRY I shall die.
And teach our little blooming boy,

That life is nought with slav'ry wed;
Teach him to yield it up with joy
At freedom's call, on honour's bed.

O'er vast nature's varying plan,
Ev'ry changing scene shall prove,
A sad epitome of man.

"--"Tis the mind that makes the body rich:
And as the sun breaks through the darkest cloud
So honour peereth in the meanest garb,
What is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?
Or, is the adder better than the eel,
Because his painted skin contents the eye.

PHILADELPHIA-Published weekly, price Twelve and a half cents per month, payable quarterly in advance, by THOMAS G. CONDIE, jun. No. 22, Carter's alley, opposite Mr. Girard's Bank-Where a LETTER BOX is placed for lite rary communications.