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THE WIDOW.

"you have chosen to be so good as to remove for me, I ought to help you." The widow took a babe on either arm, as if they were her comforters. She looked much disturbed, and very pale; and making no reply to the other, she cast her eyes, which were full of tears, up to heaven, and said in a low, sustained, and humble voice, "Choose all our changes for us, Lord." She passed into the opposite room and shut the door. And amongst the twenty women that were present, there was silence in that hall for three minutes-attesting to the right feeling for the oppressed party. And when, with the next tack of the boat, the sun was seen blazing full upon the head of the innocent babe, the unconscious usurper, the ill-repressed titter and the halfmalicious smile which passed from face to face, told the lady where to look; and she sprang into the state-room, impatiently pulling the door after her, and was heard taxing Nelly for "not keeping the sun out of the room." There she stayed for a quarter of an hour, and by this time she "was lonesome;" and when she reappeared with her hands full of oranges, which, in their luscious ripeness, she dispersed to the company, they were as well received as if she had not been condemned by every one present, and as if it had not been decided, by unanimous vote, in her absence, to send her to Coventry during the rest of the voyage.

An hour afterward, when the widow came out of her room, the lady of the plantation rose alertly and fetched three fine oranges, saying, "I saved them for you." The little widow said, with humane dignity, putting back her hand, "You must excuse me; but the children may eat theirs-I thank you." The other was neither offended, nor touched, nor surprised-in fact, she had no delicacy. Selfishness and humorsomeness had devoured her sensibilities, and she was a petulant, spoiled grown baby. And though I have called her, par excellence, the “lady of the plantation," yet it was not because she owned one, and was indulged in luxury, that she was necessarily such; for many a judicious and excellent lady, amongst others, have I seen from the same station. She had been unlucky in her "raising."

But the manœuvre of the rooms, though it quelled for the present the lady's restlessness, had not come to its sequel yet. Our boat had been racing all day long with one of an opposition line; and just at dusk, when the light of the horizon dazzled rather than aided the pilot, we were entering what is called a shute, or narrow passage, where the channel is divided by an island, and each boat trying to forestall the other of the way, dashed ahead, when, lo! their boat came with all violence afoul the bows of ours, tearing away the bulwarks, and probably, but for the intervention of a timber, would have pierced quite into it. The shock of the concussion was very great, and the terror for an in- If we had more faith, we should have more commustant was general. And it so happened that the brunt nion with our blessed Lord in his mediatorial office; of the collision was received on the very berth which and by beholding him as praying to the Father to the lady had claimed for her child, and he was reposing send the promised Comforter, how would our expectathere; and though nothing actually came in contact tions of receiving more abundant power from on high with his head, yet the shock, the terror, and agitation, be increased!-Mrs. Mortimer.

caused an access of fever, and great suffering. And now again the orange-eaters were full of significance and gratulation to the widow; but she repelled them, saying, "I am not wicked; I thank God that my children are well." And she expressed to the mother her genuine sympathy; and supposing a wound or a bruise had been received, she said, "I have some opedeldoc in my room, it is a very good thing."

Now the catastrophe is so signal, and partook so much of "poetical justice," that the reader may think it a romance; but it did all actually occur in the order in which I have related it. And perhaps it is not more direct, only more immediate and better revealed to us than many a consequence which our apprehensions have been too short-sighted or too dull to retrace to some miscalculating perversity of will, where we have plucked disaster upon ourselves, which had been avoided in a regular course of propriety.

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When we arrived at Bayou Sara, the widow left the boat; and as she was passing out, she of the plantation heard the rest bidding her adieu. She rushed out of her state-room, halloing, "Here, stop," and putting a heavy bunch of coral into her hand, said, "That is for the children;" adding, without much tact, "You must remember me." The little widow had got to know her by this time, and good naturedly accepted the gift; and hoping the babe might soon be well, she added, with simple good will, "Yes, I shall remember you." At which the orange-eaters again were nearly in acclamation.

A steamboat is a very good place to read the world at large in little. What ever became of either of them I have never heard.

One other instance I recollect of the widow, which was characteristic, and, in her poverty, tested her principles. The captain came out on the guards where she and myself were sitting together, and told her that if she wished it, he would "take up a pool" for her. She did not at first understand the expression; and when it was explained to her that she might have the avails, or rather the proceeds of an evening's gambling, she hesitated not, but replied, "No, I must not take that." She thanked the captain gratefully for what he had done for her.

I had been much interested for her; and though I left her surrounded by disastrous circumstances, and not used to the world, yet, as she was neither rash nor ill-guided-as she was humble, patient, and truly pious, and as none need famish in our country, I trust that the widow's God has revealed to her some turn, by which she can gain a subsistence for herself and her children. MATILDA.

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NOTICES.

NOTICES.

THE MILLENIUM OF THE APOCALYPSE.-Much is said and written of the millenium. Whether we do not err in directing the attention of the Church so frequently to its time and its manner is a question. We regret to learn that good men, and worthy ministers, are turning from the very labors which must bring it about, to deliver themselves of their speculations in regard to its near approach, and its visible aspects. Professor Bush published a work some years since on this subject, and a second edition is now issued, which, from the temper of the times, will find a ready sale. Its author is erudite, and all his productions are clothed with interest. He argues that the millenium proper is past, though great prosperity yet awaits the Church. We prefer, however, such appeals to the Churches as come to us from the pen of Harris. Zion needs to be told what she shall do to hasten on the triumphs of the Gospel, and she needs to be roused by strong appeal, and set to the doing of it. Mr. Bush, Mr. Miller, and all those who inculcate the theory of either, may entertain the curious, but this is not the best service that can be rendered to mankind.

MEANS AND ENDS, OR SELF-TRAINING. By Miss Sedgwick. Harper & Brothers.-Few works of its class equal in merit

this little book, which blends so much profit and amusement that we know not which to admire most, its wit or its doctrine. It admonishes young ladies in high life of many things which

even their indulgent mothers are prone to forget. We cannot refuse the following extract from a letter of a New York lady,

who moved to the west, and found that house-keeping on the frontiers was not the same thing as in New York:

"The first morning after our arrival, I determined to be energetic, and do my best to make my family comfortable till I could supply Anne's place, so I hurried on my dressing-gown, and went down to the kitchen to make the coffee. But how was it to be made? I ran up to ask Rose. She had 'always seen it made in a grecque,' so had I, but we had none. I thought if I let it soak long enough in boiling water, it would be as good as if poured through a grecque. Accordingly, soaked it till I had every thing else ready. Anne had left some little trout all prepared to fry. I put them in a utensil that I knew was called a frying-pan, and there they dried away to a coal. In attempting to cut the bread, I cut my thumb, it has been ever since nearly useless to me!

"What stuff is that?' asked my husband, when I poured out the coffee. I burst into tears, and confessed my ignorance. 'You should have boiled it, my dear,' he said. The next morning I did boil it, but it was so thick, it could not be drank. How to clarify it, none of us knew-we drink tea for the present. I have my beds to make, my rooms to sweep, and my tables to set, but I am well and strong, and should not mind it, (for I really feel the better for the exercise,) if I only knew how. Anne left us a large baking of bread. I looked forward with dismay to the time when that should be eaten up. We were reduced to the last loaf, and I begged my husband to ride over to the nearest neighbor's (two miles) and get me some leavenfor I knew that bread required leaven, though not how to make it, and unfortunately, my receipt-book was in a package of books not yet arrived.

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a-dozen lessons, would have sufficed to acquaint you with this essential art.'

"Do you remember how we used to laugh at Uncle John, when he came down from the country, and would tell us that we did not know any thing? Vain-glorying as we were, in being the first scholars in Madame C.'s school; 'Learn to make bread, girls,' he would say, 'the staff of life-learn to make bread.'

"But I know how to make cake, Uncle,' you replied. 'Fiddle de dee!' said Uncle John, 'that is an easy matter-but learn to make bread. Did you ever hear, girls, the story of the Queen of France, who, when she was told her subjects wanted bread, asked why they did not give them cake?' 'I do not understand you, Uncle,' said I. 'Perhaps not, but you may one of these days.' Poor Uncle John, it seemed to me his ghost was at my elbow while I was watching that bread. I could make cake-so could Rose. I once made some on a wager, under the eye of my mother's pastry-cook, but of what when we wanted bread.

se was cake

"To return to my story. While I was lamenting my goodfor-nothingness, my husband came in, and asked if he should

unpack my piano? 'No-no,' I cried, 'I never will touch my
piano again till I know how to make bread. Get me a horse,

if
you love me, and let me ride over to that woman, and ask
what she meant by sending me those detestable turnpike emp-
tyings. By the time I got to Mrs. Gates', my feelings were
somewhat subdued; so that I asked, very meekly, for direc-
tions how to use the turnpikes.

"Gracious me!' exclaimed the good woman, 'I thought you knew as much as that!' I blushingly confessed I did not, and she gave me the directions. I went home, kneaded up my bread, and that evening's meal on the nice light loaf of my own

making, was, it seems to me, one of the happiest of my life."

BUNYAN'S "HOLY WAR."-This and Pilgrim's Progress, the principal works of the celebrated John Bunyan, will immortalize their author. What has now brought the former to our notice, is its re-publication by the American Sunday School Union. The "Holy War" is an allegory, and sets forth paradise-that is, the inward paradise of the soul-lost and re-gained. It details fancifully the conflicts between celestial and infernal powers for the possession of the town of "Mansoul." The edition now issued is illustrated by numerous engravings. The Christian will read this work for profit, and the careless

for amusement.

WHAT'S TO BE DONE? OR THE WILL AND THE WAY. By the Author of "Wealth and Worth." Harper & Brothers.This is equal, or superior in merit to Wealth and Worth. The story is full of life; and the style is chaste. We understand that Wealth and Worth has passed already through four editions, and another is forth-coming. This is almost unprecedented. If any stories are of a good moral tendency, these are among the best, and should by all means supplant others in the hands of the young.

CHARLES ELWOOD, OR THE INFIDEL CONVERTED. By O. A. Brownson.-This book of poetic fiction was lately loaned us by a friend, who had read it with great admiration of its style, which she strangely characterized as "more than simplicity itself." It is the product of a distempered brain, and a mal-verted heart. Yet its abominations come forth with all possible grace of expression. Its doctrine is arsenic; but it is ministered in a cup of clarified honey. Read the following paragraph:

"The good dame sent me some hard, bitter cakes, which she called 'turnpike emptyings.' How to apply them I did not know, but I grated them into my flour, and I rose in my own esteem: but, alas! my bread did not rise! You laugh, my dear friend; I laugh, too, sometimes; but, I assure you that I cry much oftener. All day, and all night, I waited for the dough "The last time I had seen him, he was on the anxious seats, to rise. In the morning, it was the same lump as when I where he succeeded in becoming converted. He was now a mixed it. My husband suggested it might rise in the oven; saint, and could address his former friends and associates as this seemed to me a bright thought, and into the oven it went; sinners. Conversion operates differently on different subjects. but, alas! it came out even more solid than it went in. My Some it makes better, manward as well as Godward, sweetenchildren were actually crying for bread, and I had nothing bet-ing their dispositions, elevating their feelings and aims; others ter than a stone to give them. I went to my room. My beau- it makes decidedly worse. By persuading them that they are tiful Petrarca was lying on the table. I looked at it for a mo- saints, it permits them to fancy that they can do no wrong bement with a sort of lothing. I would gladly have given all my cause they are saints. Of this latter class was my friend knowledge of Italian, of which I have felt proud, to know how George. Religion had in him, combined with a harsh, haughty to make bread! 'But,' said my conscience, 'you might read and vindictive temper, and had given him the courage to disItalian, and make bread, too. The time spent in getting half-play what he had previously studied to conceal."

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Mr. Brownson is the converted infidel (?)-the hero of his own tale. We do not impeach Mr. Brownson of any other sin than heresy, for we know nothing of him; but we warn our readers against his book. They ought not to dwell in the house with it. It is worse than all plagues.

EDITOR'S TABLE.

THE CLASSIC, OR COLLEGE MONTHLY.-The first number of the third volume appears in a new and attractive dress. Its frontispiece is embellished with a good lithographic view of the buildings and grounds of the Wesleyan University. This monthly sustains itself well, and great praise is due to Professor Willet, its editor, and his collaborators, for their efforts. Such a periodical must subserve an important end in provoking the efforts of young collegians to produce something worthy of the press. Composition is too much neglected in all our academies and universities. This beautiful monthly will, we trust, cure this evil in our Wesleyan University. Let the work be sufficiently sober, (not, however, losing its literary aspect,) and the whole Church will be interested in its success. We utter no complaints, for the Classic has, in the main, been supplied with very excellent matter.

THE MAGNOLIA, OR SOUTHERN MONTHLY, edited by P. G. Pendleton, is about to be removed from Savannah, Ga., to Charleston, S. C. This periodical has been enlarged. Its mechanical appearance is respectable, and its correspondents are the best writers of the south. It has of late become more grave, and several of its articles are among the very best presented to the American public.

THE KNICKERBOCKER.-The first number of volume twentieth is a pledge of coming entertainment to the numerous readers of this fashionable magazine. This periodical is too well known all over the land to require any notice of its beauties or blemishes from us. It is probably the best magazine of its class; and if we were readers of the fashionable literature of the day, the Knickerbocker would be our first choice, and our

second would be

GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE-a splendid work, with its inimitable steel and mezzotinto engravings, to say nothing of its fashions for every month, which will suit others, though it should offend us. Surely little can be done in the way of improvement, beyond the seeming perfection displayed in the paper, typography, embellishments, and, if the world will have it, the wellwrought fiction of Graham's Magazine.

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"Mr. H.'s 'Address to the Moon' is not quite equal to some of his contributions. As to his doctrine, I deem him heterodox. I never could think of locating heaven in the moon with him, or in the stars with 'Amelia,' or in the sun with somebody else. Away in the invisible regions of God's immensity I would lo cate that blessed world, whither Jesus is gone to prepare a place' for his redeemed. And often do my glad thoughts soar to that happy region, and rove, as fancy may, amid its immortal verdure-its living fountains, and fadeless flowers, with the dear friends I have lost. To me departed friends do not smile from the shadowy cloud, the silvery moon, or the glowing stars. I hear not their voices in the breeze, as some romantically affect to do. No. They are gone, and are out of sight. Their smiles are as a light that has been quenched, and their voices as music that has died away."

This epistle unfolds one important truth, namely, if poets are, as is alledged, immortal, their life is not secure from misfortunes and trials. They suffer like other men. We thank our correspondent for these fine touches of criticism. In the meantime let her be sympathetically admonished to "levy a tax on her misfortunes, and rise by her fall." The cross providences of life have a profitable moral in them. The fall,

1. It is proposed to have the institution chartered with author- the bruises, and the staff of our friend, teach lessons of great ity to confer degrees. moment. The fall represents the ruin of our race by trans

2. To procure extensive grounds, and erect buildings adapted gression. The bruises are a token of the wounds of the soul, to the character of the enterprise. under the violence and the torture of sin. The staff reminds one of the soul's dependence on God, without whom "we can do nothing." It is an emblem of the Savior's supporting power. The arm of his strength is reached forth for the aid of all

3. To teach all the sciences usually pursued at American colleges, together with all the ornamental branches which a sober regard to morality and religion will warrant.

EDITOR'S TABLE.

FEMALE SEMINARY IN CINCINNATI.-For several months past, efforts have been made to mature a plan for a Female Collegiate Institute in this city. The following is an outline of the plan adopted by leading members of the Methodist Episcopal Church:

Unitarians, the Swedenborgians, the Baptists, the Presbyte-
rians, and the Catholics, have each one or more in this city.
2. Within a circle of twenty miles there are from twenty to
thirty thousand Methodists to support such an institution.
Many of these are wealthy. The city and its suburbs alone
contain three thousand members, and these are lending their
support to schools of other denominations-some to Catholics,
and some to Protestants.

3. Providence-in the order of which men should always strive to act-seems to open the way for this enterprise. Many leading members of the Church have been stirred up to new zeal on the subject. In regard to teachers, the way has been opened to procure such as it is deemed are best suited to sustain and advance the enterprise.

The school, then, will be opened according to the tenor of notices which have appeared in the Western Christian Advocate. Provisional arrangements have been made, which are perfectly satisfactory to the movers and early patrons of this plan; and all that is required to render the seminary ultimately one of the very best in the land is a hearty co-operation of the members and friends of the Church. We commit the cause to God, in whose name, and by whose blessing it has been planned, and so far executed.

MISFORTUNES OF A CORRESPONDENT.-"Mr. Editor-After being shut up two long months by a violent fall from a horse, I am restored again so far as to be up and walk about with a staff. As to correspondence, I have lost all the poetry of the year. The time of gathering flowers saw me prostrated on a

bed of thorns.

4. To provide an excellent faculty of instruction and disci-that seek him. As the staff will soon be thrown aside, so the soul will soon cast off its weights, and soar abroad in the "re

The warrant for this enterprise is found,

1. In the entire destitution of this city and its vicinity. We have no Methodist female seminary in the southwestern part of Ohio. Nearly every other branch of the Church in this region is cherishing one or more institutions of the kind. They are, to be sure, mostly private seminaries, but they exert an influence in favor of the several denominations to which their respective teachers belong. The Protestant Episcopalians, the

pline.

5. To have a normal department for the purpose of training gions of God's immensity." It is true that a crippled state is female teachers. one of temporary deformity, but this excites pity, and how

7. To make it thoroughly Wesleyan in its character; or, in other words, build a Methodist seminary.

6. To pay special regard to the moral and religious training sweet it is to have the sympathy of friends! And no comeliof the pupils. And, ness is like that of patient suffering. May our correspondent soon take the harp and walk forth into the green fields! It is not yet too late for generous musings. If the juicy riches of spring are past, here comes staid autumn. The poet can sing of ripe and sustaining fruits as well as of weeping dews, vernal showers, or May-day roses, bursting into beauty from their green, swelling buds. Let her try the death if not the birth of all things. Sing of the falling leaf, if it be too late for the blush and bloom of nature. For surely mortals must fade away, and should be taught to look on the emblems of their destiny.

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