as it swung on its hinges. My attentive ear soon | eyes, gave me no little apprehension. "O! what a moment of surprise was that to me. Was it Gertrude, or some other last guest? My too willing imagination would believe that it was none other; still the least doubt gave me no little inquietude. This, how "From the evening alluded to we became very intimate; almost our whole time was passed in each other's society. Still I dared not declare myself. The fear of a refusal had more than once kept back the words which continually hung upon my tongue's end. "The music and the dance had now commenced, "Thus we continued for months; the time when when the parlor door opened, and an old gentleman I should complete my studies was fast approaching, entered with a young lady leaning upon his arm. yet I had not made known my love. I knew, howAfter saluting the lady of the house, they approach-ever, that I was beloved, and, with this assurance, ed two vacant seats, near where I was sitting. It I determined to offer myself, heart and hand, on was Gertrude and her father. My heart seemed the first favorable opportunity. to rise to my mouth, and the words died on my tongue as I attempted to bid her 'good evening.' I could only return her easy and complaisant greeting with an awkward bow. "Although I had formed so strong an attachment for the beautiful being, who now sat by my side, I had never before had an opportunity of conversing with her; having previously had but a passing introduction. If I loved her then, for the beauty of her face, the sweetness of its expression, and the elegant symmetry of her form, my love now became almost merged into admiration, as I listened to the soft melodious tones of her voice, disclosing an intellect excelling in brilliancy, as her person excelled in beauty. "It was 'When mild evening drew her dewy curtains round And all nature lay hush'd in rest profound' that we most enjoyed each other's society. "In the cool twilight hour, we would wander to the neighboring hills, or stray upon the sand of the sea shore; and there, free from the jarrings of the world, we would experience feelings 'too deep for utterance.' "In one of our walks, we had wandered some distance from the town, and stood on the beach gazing upon the blue expanse before us. Nature never smiled upon a lovelier evening. The moon shone with cloudless splendor, and shed her silent light upon the broad unrippled bosom of the deepno cloud obscured the heavens, no voice disturbed the earth,' save our own low whispers—and there, when left to ourselves, with the moon and silent stars for our only witnesses, we pledged our mu tual loves! "The other gentlemen being, for the most part, engaged in the dance, Gertrude was left, for the time, exclusively to my attention. I improved the opportunity to engage her hand for at least two cotillons. When the first set was through, we arose and took our places. What a proud moment was that to me! I imagined that all eyes in the "The consent of her parents was easily obtained. room were turned with envy upon me. With her The day on which I was to receive my degree, I fine figure, adorned only by the elegant simplicity was to receive my bride. Meanwhile, we conof her dress, she appeared far more beautiful, even tinued to be together as before, and, if possible, than when I first saw her. I then thought her per- more so. Not a day passed without our walking fection; but now I was at a loss for words in which or riding out together. Sometimes in company to express my admiration. With reluctance, I re- with others, we would take a sail upon yonder harlinquished her hand, several times to other gentle- bor. In short, we found no lack of amusement. men, who, if the eyes ever speak, seemed to re- Time passed on; one week more was to witness turn me a thousand thanks. That my motives for our nuptials; when a sailing party was proposed so doing were entirely selfish, I will not deny. In in which Gertrude and I joined. It was a beautithe first place, I dared not to intrude too much of ful day. The sun had just passed the meridian, my company upon Gertrude after so slight an ac- and a light wind tempered the heat with a gentle quaintance, and in the second, I wished to avoid breeze-as we, eight in number, with two boats, observation. four in each, started on an excursion of pleasure. "I contrived, however, to dance the last cotillon After remaining two or three hours upon the water, with her, and as her father had left sometime be- we were preparing to return home, when the wind, fore, I ventured to offer my services in seeing her which had been blowing calmly through the day, home. They were accepted. began to rise, and soon blew a violent gale. The "My greatest desire had now been attained. I sky, which a few moments before appeared clear had not only seen Gertrude, but had conversed with and spotless, now became obscured by dark threatenher, danced with her, and had even been at her ing clouds; while the deep roar of distant thunder, house. I knew that I loved her; but was my pas- and the lightning, as in rapid succession it glission reciprocated? Did she love me? The bare tened upon the surface of the water, rendered our possibility that I might appear unacceptable in her situation every moment more appalling. The pilot, however, assured us that we were in no danger. | as they were by the bereavement, which I had But this assurance did not quiet the fears of the been instrumental in bringing upon them. And fairer part of the crew, whose heart-rending shrieks, now that the object of life was lost to me forever, as they pierced the air and mingled with the thun-I resolved to hide myself from the world. Recolder, sounded far more terrific in our ears, than the lecting the retirement and seclusion of this place, roar and clashing of the elements. I determined to take up my abode here. Leaving Gertrude in one end of the boat, I had "Without making my design known to any one, just arisen to assist the pilot in taking down the not even to my kind benefactors, I came to this sail, when, owing to some slight movement on the summit, since which I have never left it. Every part of the affrighted ladies, the boat tipped on one day with the rising sun, I go to the top of the Rock, side, and in one instant we were all precipitated and watch the spot where Gertrude's form disapinto the water. I had barely time to seize Ger- peared, and sometimes, when the sky is unusually trude by the hair of her head, ere she sunk. The clear, I almost imagine I can see her rise from her rest in the boat, with the exception of the pilot, deep grave, an angel of light, beckoning me to being unable to switn, had immediately gone down. follow. Thanks to God! I shall soon obey the “Meanwhile, the other boat, which was a short summons." distance astern of us, hastened to our assistance. Here the old man was unable to go on. Large With an iron grasp, I clung to the precious trea-heavy drops rolled down his furrowed cheeks, and sure I held in my hand; yet, notwithstanding all his heaving breast betrayed the deep agitation my exertions, I perceived that Gertrude's weight within. But wiping away the tears, as fast as they was fast drawing me under water. I felt my fin- flowed, he proceededgers grow numb, and the glossy curls slipping through them. I became insensible. "I recollected nothing more for several days. I then found myself stretched on a bed, with a raging fever. Gertrude's father and mother were bending over me, and when I inquired for her, the tears that trickled down their aged cheeks, were my only answer. As my recollection slowly returned, I remembered where I had last been-that Gertrude was with me, and that I was endeavoring to rescue her from drowning. More than this, I did not recollect. But when I discovered that I was in the house of Gertrude's parents, and yet saw her not there, I feared for the worst. It was many days, however, before I was permitted to know the whole. I then learned that all in the boat, in which I had found a watery grave, and that the other boat, coming up, had merely time to save me, as I loosed my hold on Gertrude. was, "When the awful reality first burst upon my mind, I had no longer a desire to live. I regretted that I had not been permitted to die the same death, and to share the same grave with her for whom alone it was a pleasure to live. But since I had been rescued from the deep, I prayed that I might never rise from the bed whereon I then lay. I preferred to die and join Gertrude. But God, in his providence, had decreed otherwise. Had I been taken away at that time, I now feel confident that I should have been forever separated from her, to meet whom I would have died. A merciful Providence has spared me many years for repentance and preparation for death: and when I die, I feel assured that in heaven I shall meet Gertrude. "The cause of my coming to this place, and the manner of my being here, I have now made known to you. My object in telling you was, that you' might relate it to the inhabitants of yonder city, that, when I am gone, they may not censure me. I have not avoided the world, because I hated my fellow men, but because I loved my own thoughts, and the communion of my God, more than I valued their society. If you will but make known my history, I shall die in peace." After solemnly promising the old man that his wishes should be strictly observed, I arose to leave. when, seizing my hand, he implored the blessing of God upon me, and remarked, "that he should not see me again." On visiting the Rock, a few days after, I was grieved to find the old man's prediction verified. Entering his hut, I found his lifeless form stretched upon the bed of leaves. He had been dead apparently but a few hours. Gathering a few leaves from without the hut, I covered up the body, and closing the entrance took my departure. Alone he had lived and died-and alone he lay in death. No sculptured marble marks his restingplace, no storied urn points to his ashes; but a shapeless mass of stones form a far more lasting monument to the memory of the Hermit.* *The remains of the "Hermit's Cave," so called, are still in existence. Norfolk, Va., March, 1843. APHORISMS. It is much harder to bear Prosperity, than Adversity. The former has ruined many States and indi "I gradually recovered from my sickness. Ger-viduals-the latter recalls them to a sense of their duty, trude's father and mother had, through the whole of it, nursed me with a parent's tenderness. But I could not endure to look upon them, bowed down rouses up their faculties, and awakens their virtues. TO SOUTHERN BARDS. "To all the known and unknown bards of Virginia and of the South."-Sou. Lit. Mess. Spirit of song, that, in the elder time, She spreads no longer now th' exclusive feast. Now to the bard of Thebes: from Athens' towr's, To geographic sections unconfin'd, The continental West assum'd thy reign: Woke, thro' the forests deep, her joyous strings Or love's harmonious song pours from the raptur'd strings. ber'd vows? Or hath ambition, of its eagle flight, Man hath an innate energy of soul- Sons of the South! you of the lofty soul! Wake the gigantic thought and "fame's proud temple find." WIND-MILLS. J. A. S. "They unto whom we shall appear tedious are in no wise injured by us; because, it is in their own hands to spare that labor which they are not willing to endure." It may dwell within the remembrance of a few worthies of the olden time, how that perfect gentleman and valorous knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha, having a heart of great benevolence and universal sympathy with the human race, and hav ing, moreover, those sympathies increased, warmed and tempered as it were, by the perusal of certain ancient and pernicious volumes, and by continually pondering over the same, did, one fine day, sally forth in armor dight, upon a miserable hack, to redress public grievances, to open the eyes of his fellow beings to the oppressions beneath which they were tamely submitting; and, by the force of his example, and the might of his arm, to re-establish the undervalued, neglected, and almost forgotten insti tution of knight-errantry. And to this end did he fearlessly and vigorously prick forth against windmills, sheep, and also-not having before his eyes the fear of the devil—against certain officers of the Santa Hermandad or Holy Brotherhood, releasing from their pious guardianship sundry galley-slaves, whom they were escorting to the coast, heavily chained, as the enormity of their offences and the peace of the state demanded; from which last exploit, we may infer that "which was the justice, which the thief," the Don, felt to be matter of more and beautiful imaginings, ycleped tales; we may doubt than delicacy. From said renowned champion, do we, for various reasons highly satisfactory to ourselves, though of no importance to any body but the owner, hold ourselves to be collaterally descended, and in like manner with him, by the perusal of, and meditation upon, sundry ancient pernicious authors, [for, what saith one of the guiding stars of American literature? "Pope Alexander always had his followers, further add, "their name is Legion." Had we discovered beyond dispute, what was the first fable ever framed for the benefit of mankind, we doubt whether we should venture to disclose this result of our researches. All things from Chaos to the Canticles, we leave to the jurisdiction and decision of the Santa Hermandad: but whenever, wherever, and by whomsoever, the expediency of fable was discovered, we doubt not that the first fruits of the intellectual harvest were presented to the world with a view to the improvement and enlightenment of all. To those whose "excoriated" consciences shrink from fiction as the snares and delusions of the Prince of darkness, As Alexander Pope has had his swallowers"] have we become possessed with a frenzy not inferior in force, and we fear not inferior in singularity to the Don's: like his, our wit has given way beneath we would, with due deference to the unsullied puthe monstrous conception, that the past order of things was better than is the present, and therefore, which hems them around, name the Parables of rity of their minds, and the impenetrable barrier without doubt or diffidence of our good reception, the New-Testament, where strength, purity and (for, we are determined to be so far in the fashion,) do we present ourselves in the great tilt-yard of modern days,—id est, the printing office. Albeit, neither helmet of pasteboard, nor head-piece of brass, protect our sconce from the blows which our audacity may provoke. Yet, as with Thomas a Kent, so may it fare with us pathos, a knowledge of human nature which ex tended their perfect applicability from the times and people for whom they were uttered, through all ages and unborn nations, rendered them worthy of their great narrator. They have each a distinct character, distinctly developed; they served then a better and more enduring purpose than any other "There were some dealt him blows that were heavy and species of instruction, and there can be no more sore, Bet others respected his plight and forbore." striking proof of their perfection, than the ponderous homilies which they have sustained, and still "But it seems that you are turning from, instead sustain, without losing their beauty or interest. of at, the wind-mills." Next, in order, come the moral fictions. Being no antiquarian, we must content ourselves with quoting those to which Æsop stands god-father, and that chiefly to remark the exceedingly crude state of literary economy in those days. Short as are those fables, it seems to have been thought necessary that each of them should contain an ideathat it should illustrate with clearness and simplicity, some moral truth, whose drapery of fiction shows that truth, even then, found it needful to sacrifice to the graces. "Have patience, good people!" a civil entreaty, which was never yet extended to you by the proprietors of the giants, against which, we have set our lance in rest. Thomas a Kent, as well as Don Quixote and ourselves, went a tilting with wind-mills; we are prepared, however, to encounter an equal doom with the Don, though by different means: his opponents were their own avengers; but now, as then, by the wind-mills, do the owners thereof grind their own bread, nor can we expect them to witness, without wrath, any ef- Among the modern fables, written professedly for forts, however humble, at their demolition. And the instruction of the young, (for whom a large numnow, no more than in days when Paul stopped the ber of our wind-mills are stated to be kept in ceaseless divinations of the damsel of Philippi, "who brought motion,) Telemachus is most widely known. How her masters much gain by soothsaying," will men, pure there is the conception of character, how clear"or women either," be content that the spirit, whose ly defined the plan, how gradually and perfectly promptings bring them also much gain, should be unfolded and developed! There we find the devout exorcised, or endangered by the rebuke of truth. in religion, the bright and sound in morals and phiThe wind-mills, whose obtrusive arms are in perpetual motion in every city and village of our union, threatening more fatally the brains of the unfortunates within their reach, than did the Span- Coming nearer home, where shall be found a ish ones, those of Don Quixote, those wind-mills by teacher so faithful, so unpresuming, of such touchwhich the proprietors furnish monthly, weekly and ing simplicity, who portrays, with so much truth daily, a large portion of the mental aliment (?) of and tenderness, the fireside virtues and their actheir fellow citizens, are what, to be rightly under-companying pleasures, who points out, as with a stood, we must designate in the language as ex- divining rod, the deep wells of domestic sympathy, clusively appropriated to them, as "thee and thou" the rich affections of home and kindred, so pure is to the Quakers, the graceful fictions, the chaste and perfect in their joys, and therefore so blessedly losophy, adorned and animated by the novelties of adventure, the graces of language, the poetry of nature and the imagination. united in their sorrows-in all these things, where as ease and elegance, where maukish sentimentalishall we look for the equal of the good old Vicar? ties are paraded as feeling; their suspicions, jeal"But all this is matter needless, of importless ousies, quarrels and reconcilements, are all of one burden." class. Sometimes, indeed, we find a spice of idiom; the Shibboleth that betrays the birth-place of its owner. There is also a second class of these things, standing forth somewhat in opposition to the first, where wealth and fashion and "gentle blood," and those refinements and elegancies of taste and education, which wealth procures and fashion sanctions, are held up to view only to show their utter incom also, interesting and instructive tales to allure newly married ladies into due attention to the mysteries of house-keeping, and others which treat of the sublimer arts of "shopping." 66 'Hurry comes from the devil, and slow advancement from Allah," says the Turk. Were he bidden to apply his adage to these authors, he would find his ideas as much confounded as were the Satyr's, when the traveller blew hot and cold: "Still hurry, hurry, on they go!" but their advancement is invisible. We are no Utilitarian. The beauties of the ex We shall see. Let us reflect then, how many adjuncts, how many resources, how great labors must have been found necessary by those teachers and authors, who have succeeded in persuading, amusing or delighting mankind, before they could attain that result-before they could produce such sketches, such pictures as those to which we have presumed to refer. How mature a judgment must they have acquired to keep truth ever in their ser-patibility with virtue and usefulness. We have, vice; how much skill in arraying her with a delicacy and propriety, which should not, for a moment, obscure the brightness of her countenance, or deform the graces of her person-how deep a feeling of all that is beautiful in the heart of man, to attract and win; how deep a knowledge of the evils of his nature, and how judicious an application of it to warn and correct; how quick and happy a perception of his follies and weaknesses, so that to strengthen he may amuse without disgusting; how keen a relish for the charms of nature, that they may mingle in his pages so as to refresh and adorn his pictures! And now, we would ask, where in the illimitable ternal world delight us for their beauty's sake, for expanse of " Original Tales," whose "stagnant the delicious repose and pleasing thraldom into torrents" surround us on all sides, are we to look which they lull us: and not less strong is our faith for such qualities? Or can they be called "Ori- in the grace and grandeur of the world within; ginal Tales," which, originality, have none? What fain would we, that they should be made manifest idea should we entertain of the "originality" of a to us now, as of yore, in forms of such truth and gallery of paintings, the only variety among which perfection as shall harmonize with, while they enshould be a somewhat diversified grouping of the hance the charms of actual existence. figures, the expressions, attitudes and coloring being such that one might stand for all? And is not this consummation? Never! Not of the spirit are the case with these writings? Such knowledge of born these effusions against which we raise our their art as the authors possess, is derived, not voice, but of that ideality, whose immediate profrom that observation and study which may lead to genitor is acquisitiveness. And to whose account a thorough understanding and just appreciation of are placed all these frail, feeble, distorted literary human nature, as it performs its part before them; monsters? To thine, oh patient, and much endurnot from the examination of the records left us by ing public! How well would a little of the unmen of genius of their skill in penetrating that most reasonable simplicity of the Satyr stead thee against complicated of labyrinths, the heart, and in de- these triflers with thy dignity and common sense, scribing it with the alternate strength and weak-whom thou sufferest to blow hot and cold upon thee. ness, smiles and tears, confusion and harmony, They bow down before thee; they proclaim at the which astonish and delight. These true oracles street corners and upon the house-tops thy might they heed not-imagination is sufficient guide-and and supremacy, while all things false, faulty and for such books, they are old-fashioned, vulgar; they suited the times for which they were written-we are further advanced. To the stagnant waters of fashionable novels, then, do they betake themselves, drinking in large draughts the inspiration of those mockeries, those vague shadows of man, his existence and its purposes there furnished. From thence are reproduced the heroes and heroine's who differ from each other only in stature and complexion; their loves and friendships, their impossible adventures, the tone of their conversations, where flippancy and frivolity are expected to pass But is the present state of things to lead to this enormous which they create, are imputed to the "public taste;" they affect awe and submission, and lull thee to sleep with the music of their flatteries. O, most delicate monster! the blind ore of Ariosto, Polyphemus, after the experiments of that first of opticians, Ulysses, were never so deceived and defrauded as thou! Longer to endure these indignities would be to confess thyself an eyeless and toothless monster. Rouse thyself then, and rejoice the hearts of thy true lovers and faithful servants, by withdrawing thy countenance from these parasites, and issue thy edict for the restoration of the |