is entirely forbidden. He will see no one, admit no one, but his friends and colleagues of the Convention." presence of some visitor, and placing the miniature in her bosom, and wiping the tears from her eyes, in a "Then you refuse me!" she inquired in a tone of calm and collected voice she bade him enter. The despair and disappointment. door opened, and a tall and cadaverous person, in the "I do! I do! my child, my child!" and the old man capacity of Capitaine du Surveillance, stood before her. sank into his chair and wept bitterly. The female seized the opportunity to quit the apartment by the same way in which she had entered-having followed in the wake of the gens d'armes and secreted herself in a small recess of the corridor 'till such time as they departed, when the interview we have just narrated took place. Lost in the intensity of his feelings the old man neither heard nor saw her departure, and when he looked up, he could scarcely believe but that the past scene was some illusion of the brain and not the words and acts of reality. He cast his eyes upon the picture of his daughter; a thousand horrible figures were presented to his imagination; he felt sick at heart, he rushed to the window to breathe the morning breeze that was now rustling among the gardens of Paris, and cresting the blue and silent waters of the Seine. The grey dawn was setting on his misty throne, on the summits of the mountains, while one by one were fading the tapers of the night-the lark was trilling his lay in the heavens, and all the earth was awaking in its mantle of beauty and fragrance—he gazed wildly upon the scene, but the cool air felt to him as a furnace, he gasped for breath; every object grew dim before his vision, and he sank on the floor, hopeless, helpless and alone. THE DENOUMENT. The morning which dawned was the Sabbath, but no marks were visible to denote the same. No priest was seen bending his steps to the house of prayer. In place of the trim-attired citizen, was beheld the soldier with his implements of war and blood. Groups of unwashed and haggard artizans were hurrying to their professions -the sound of labor every where struck upon the ear. The wine house, the halls of gaming, and temples of amusement all were thrown open, and contributed to banish from the mind of man the day that the Lord had set apart for his praise. One bell alone which fell heavily upon all hearts, told that the work of slaughter had commenced. As we have said, the victims of that sacred morning were Doumouriez and Vergniand-their trial had immediately followed their arrest-the evidence was summary-they were convicted, sentenced, and their blood helped to swell the human tide that daily and hourly rolled around that tribunal of terror and of death. On this morning, immediately after the execution, a young female called at the house of Marat, and presented a letter, requesting an interview. Her application was unsuccessful. She was told that no interview could be granted. Sick and dispirited, she retraced her steps to the Hotel du Providence, and in the silence of her chamber, sat meditating how she could accomplish the sole object of her existence-a personal interview with the minister of terror. In her hand she held a miniature, which she bathed with her tears, and covered with her kisses. A gentle knock at the door apprised her of the "Your business, sir?" demanded she. "I come, citizeness, answered the officer, "in the name of the Republic, to receive what intelligence you have to communicate to citizen Marat." "It is to him alone, replied the female, that I can disclose strong and important facts; with you, sir, I can hold no communication, and courtesying, she was about to retire into an inner apartment. "Your pardon, citizeness, I am ordered not to lose sight of you 'till I am in possession of those facts," while, at the same moment, he attempted to intercept her passage to the door to which she was retreating. With the agility of a deer, she bounded past him, and seizing a small pistol which lay upon the chimney-piece, held him at bay. "Attempt to intercept me," she exclaimed, and that moment is your last." She entered the apartment--the door was closed and bolted in an instant, while the minion of authority departed, abashed, chagrined and disappointed. The evening of that day had arrived, heavy clouds were gathering in the heavens, and the distant hurtling of thunder foretold that a tempest was fast approaching. The citizens had sought their homes for shelter, and a death-like stillness pervaded all around. Darker and darker grew each moment, 'till, at length, one deep, impenetrable veil of night enveloped the heavens and the earth, and the voice of the elements burst forth in ter rific fury. It seemed as if the Supreme Judge were de nouncing his anathema against the blood-polluted walls of Paris. At that hour of storm and tempest, a solitary female was seen threading the dark and intricate streets of the city. Nothing appalled by the darkness of the hour, she boldly pursued her course, 'till, at last, she entered the Rue De Saint Dennis. With caution she glanced around her, then hastily ascending the steps of the mansion of Marat, she applied the iron knocker with such vehemence, that the whole street echoed from the sound. After a considerable pause a figure presented itself at an upper casement, and demanded the reason of so furious a summons. "I wish to speak with citizen Marat," was the answer. "'Tis impossible," replied the person at the casement, and was about to withdraw. "'Tis an affair that concerns the safety of the Republic. I come from Caen, and my sojourn in Paris will admit of no delay. Fear nothing from me, I am but a woman." The figure withdrew from the window, and after an absence of nearly ten minutes, the heavy iron bars that secured the door within, were heard to give way, and the female stranger was admitted to the mansion of the Republican Tyrant. The door was again made secure, and the old woman, for such was the Cerberus of the mansion, conducted the young female, by the feeble light of a little lamp, through several ancient and curiously-formed passages, 'till, at length, they stood before a small door in a gloomy corridor. The old woman speak! What dangers threaten the Republic. Tell me, that my fiat may go forth for their destruction. Speak, speak!" and as he finished, he sunk back into the bath from exhaustion. "You have heard of Charlotte Corday?" said the female, standing closely to Marat. gave three distinct knocks upon it, when a tremulous I find more food there for the guillotine? Speak! voice within cried, " In the name of the Republic, enter!" She applied her finger to what seemed a secret spring, and the door flying open, the den of the monster was revealed to view. From the roof hung an iron lamp by a chain of the same material, whose light faintly dispeled the gloom of the apartment. At the farther end was seen the head and shoulders of an old and hideous-looking man, who was reclining in a bath-his right arm and hand rested upon a block of wood which served as a desk, where were implements of writing, with which he was busily employed. He did not deign to cast his eyes upon the female, but muttered in a low and almost stifled voice, "Your pardon, La Belle Cityoenne, you must wait!" Then waving his hand to the old woman, she quitted the apartment. Thus left alone with the man of blood and terror-it is natural enough to suppose that fear would have seized upon a young and helpless female, but she trembled not -her pulse beat as regularly as in her most placid moments-her eye was intently fixed upon the minister of murder, and she only felt anxious for a fitting opportunity to plant her poignard in his heart. "Yes!" said he," the betrothed of Beauchamp. She, too, must perish. The axe thirsteth for her blood. Knowest thou aught of the traitress?" "I do!" replied she, "but Marat shall never live to behold her perish.” Say'st thou thou speak'st in riddles, my Diana. Tell me of her-how-where is she to be found?" Here!" exclaimed she, and at the same moment drew from her bosom the poignard. The old man endeavored to raise himself in the bath, but, like a tigress she sprung upon him. With her left hand she grasped him by the throat. "Mercy! mercy!" he ejaculated, in a voice of desperation and despair. Mercy! ha ha! ha!" and she laughed in exultation as the wretch, in the agony of fear, appealed to her pity for preservation. Mercy! dar'st thou to sue for Marat, at length ceased writing, and turning towards mercy, thou grey-headed rufflan? 'tis a word unknown her, with a ghastly smile exclaimed, Ah, citizeness, to thy tribunal of murder. Seek it of the elements, into had I been aware that one so young and beauteous as which, as a dog, according to thy creed, thou say'st we yourself had thus been waiting, these important matters shall resolve!" She raised her arm to give force to the would have been deferred. Now, what seek you? Speak, blow. Marat, rendered desperate from all hope of and freely. Marat can refuse nothing to beauty like rescue being denied to him, struggled fearfully, but in yours." vain. The poignard descended. The blood spouted "I come, citizen," she replied, "to tell you of danger forth from his heart, and tinged the water of the bath. that threatens the Republic." "How-when-where," he ejaculated. Nothing but plots-nothing but treason. No matter, they must be cunning who can outwit Marat." He made an effort to call, but the cry was feeble; his eyes glared wildly in their sockets, and his head fell upon his bosom. "Frederic!" she exclaimed, thou art avenged! The sacrifice is accomplished!" She relaxed her grasp of the body, and it fell sullenly among the water. The door of the apartment was burst open. The servants of Marat rushed in, oaths and imprecations were heaped upon her. She made no reply "In Paris, perhaps," interrupted the female-but there are spirits beyond it. I come from Caen. I wished to impart my intelligence this morning, but I was rudely driven from your door, and afterwards insulted, by your order, in my hotel, by the officer of surveil-offered no resistance, but a smile of satisfaction played lance." "Your pardon, La Belle Cityoenne. I knew not that it was a goddess who sought me. Well, what seek you? What injuries can I redress? Who has deceived you? Speak, speak, my divinity. The word of Marat is his death warrant.' And the old man seized the pen, eager to add another victim to his catalogue of destruction. The young female advanced nearer to the hoary ruffian. Marat, with difficulty, stretched forth his withered arms as if he expected she would drop into them in gratitude for his sanguinary proffer. But she paused, and casting her eyes upon him, in which the lightning of revenge was flashing-"You remember Frederic Beauchamp!" said she. Marat convulsively started in the water. The name of Beauchamp seemed to awaken the slumbering spirit of the monster. "Ab, ha!" he exclaimed, his whole countenance gleaming with demoniac fury. "Beauchamp, the traitor. Yes, citizeness, he expiated his principles on the scaffold. Caen!-he was the spirit of that province. Is rebellion not yet subdued? Must upon her beauteous features as they dragged her to the tribunal of the Republic. The morning beams shone brilliantly on the towers and turrets of Paris. The axe of the guillotine awaited for a victim. It waited not long. A young and elegant girl ascended the scaffold; in her hand she held a rose. A black veil shrouded her features from the gaze of the populace. The executioner approached to prepare her for the axe. Proudly she waved her hand for him to desist. She removed the veil. She stood revealed to view. Reader, the victim was the destroyer of the monster Marat-the affianced bride of the murdered Beauchamp-Charlotte Corday! THAT man must have a strange value for word, when he can think it worth while to hazard the innnocence and virtue of his son, for a little Greek and Latin, whilst he should be laying the solid foundation of knowledge in his mind, and furnishing it with just rules to direct his future progress in life.-Locke. Original. INFLUENCE OF WOMAN.-PAST AND PRESENT. IT has ever been acknowledged by the reflecting and the wise, that the power possessed and wielded by woman, is great, and to be used or abused for the good or evil of mankind. States revolutionized, cities burnt, kings dethroned, empires overthrown, unite to prove it true. In the page of history her name is indellibly written, whether it be for superiority in virtue or crime; whether it be for the admiration or detestation of a world! There it is stamped-let us deeply ponder upon it! Numberless are the examples in the lessons of the past, which, in tones of fearful warning, speak to the hearts of all-" Beware!" On the other hand, we may be strengthened in the exercise of every virtue, by the contemplation of those beautiful traits of character, those high heroic actions of the buried past, which, amid the surrounding gloom, with an undying, unwavering brilliancy, "burns throughout all Time." A Nero was formed by the pernicious counsels of woman; an Antony lost the world by the persuasive arts and beauty of a Cleopatra. A woman stepped forth in the hour of her country's peril, breathed hope in the hearts of despairing warriors, and led them forth to conquer. Victory perched upon her banners, and the Maid of Orleans received the crown of martyrdom! And who could have caused the desolation of the fatal night of blood, when the guardian genius of France slumbered; when the alarm rang in the midnight air, and the shrieks of the living were mingled with the agonizing groans of the dying, "piercing the dull ear of night?" Who, but woman, base, unprincipled, ambitious woman? Who, but a Catharine de Medici, could thus have played upon the passions of a weak son, and cansed him to shed the blood of thousands of Huguenots, to gratify her love of power? Another form rises before me, but how unlike the former. Isabella of Castile, I hail thee! Patroness and friend of the great "world-finder," thy name ever be honored! The influence of thy friendship shall be felt, 'till the world is not. The maiden monarch of England, too, though arbitrary and severe in her government, and her fame stained with a dark spot which can never be effaced, yet gave an impulse to commerce and industry, which is still felt throughout the world. She showed what woman can do when possessed of power to sway the destinies of a mighty people! est gems, their priceless treasures, were their children. The knight who breathed nought but vengeance in the battle field, or defied his implacable foe to mortal combat in the lists, became "calm and gentle as an infant's slumber," in presence of the fair. His angry passions hushed; his taunts and boastful words changed to the language of love and gallantry. He acknowledged the potency of, and yielded a willing obedience to the charms of woman. Hers, however, was not the magic influence of mind. The fair damsels of rank were but little versed in philosophic, classic, or poetic love. To read the wild but absorbing romances of those times; to sing to the lute the love-lays of the Troubadours; to sit at their everlasting embroidery, shading flowers that had no parallel in nature; this was all they wished or required. That age is past—its ideas, prejudices, feelings with it "in the deep ocean buried." Now intellect, genius, assert their independence, and here, again, woman, Proteus-like, assumes a new form of influence. Splendid have been the creations of her mind. Released from the arbitrary fetters which had, for ages, bound it, the wing of Genius soars in power Omnipotent. Need we point to a Siddons, a Baillie, a More, an Edgeworth, names which dare compare with the noblest of man's, in their respective walks? These, and hundreds of others exercise a vast amount of influence over the present age, which will be carried far into the future. Education has, indeed, done wonders for the sex. But religion The general character of a nation must ever depend has done still more; it has taught them to look beyond upon that of its women. The stern lawgiver of Sparta this life, which is but preparatory to another; as a state knew this when he created those laws which made the of probation, where we are all placed to aid one another females participate with their husbands and brothers in with counsel and comfort. And it is in this, woman the rude, violent games of the age. Thus they became should find the proper exercise of her faculties. Far bold, patriotic and daring-exhorting their sons when retired from the busy highways of Ambition, she should they went forth to battle, "to return with their shield, wander in the shady, green lanes of domestic life. It or upon it." The exhortations of the Spartan women should be hers to cheer the drooping head of Sickness, fired the soldiers; whether they conquered or fell, they and pour balm into the bosom of the wretched. To seek were assured of the praise, and rejoicings of their out the abodes of Poverty, and cheer their inmates with mothers and sisters, and this incited them to unparal-aid, advice and sympathy. To welcome to the quiet leled deeds of arms. hearth, the partner of her joys and sorrows, when Stern, unyielding Romans were nurtured by matrons worn and weary with the world's conflict; to rear her of high and noble virtues, who boasted that their bright-" offsprings in the fear of God, and love of every thing good and holy. These are duties which every woman of the present day is bound to perform. Unseen, unfelt, she extends her influence far and wide. She is forming the future patriot, statesman, or enemy of his country; more than this, she is sowing the seeds of virtue or vice, which will fit him for Heaven, or for eternal misery. Noble, sublime, is the task of the American mothersee that it be well performed. Mother of Washington! would thy name could be sounded with a trumpet's voice throughout the land! Would that the women of our beloved country emulated thy virtues and glorious example, to rear their children as "wisely and as well." Then would Columbia be indeed the land of heroes, not such as the old world saw, "basely trampling" on the sacred rights of humanity, but a race born to bless-to humanize the world! Original. GREECE, GREECE, fairy and poetic land, Where Science waved her magic wand, Thy arts once flourishing are gone, Where once the immortal king of song, And sung of Grecian nerve and fire, A martyred sage to truth became. There Ruin rears his horrid van, O'er trellissed shaft and marble bust, Bowed down his brother to the dust. May never bloom in verdure more! Without a prospect of decline. That shone around your sires of yore, Still deck your clime, your arts, your name, And shine 'till time shall be no more. Original. CLEOPATRA'S PEARL. BY H. T. TUCKERMAN. I. How bravely plunged the diver low, Upon his weary quest, And struggled long amid the waves At royalty's behest! The deep resigned its choicest gifts, And yielded Egypt's diadem, II. Awhile it decked thy lovely brow, Nursed by the crystal brine, III. As the heart's pledge, that costly prize By Beauty's fond caprice, decreed IV. Alas! a richer pearl-thy love, Proud queen, as swiftly fled, In Luxury's base goblet drained, And in Despair's dark chalice fled, V. At the world's banquet, thus we pledge And make the jewels of the heart, Swept off in passion's whirl, Like Cleopatra's pearl. REASON is a faculty or power of the mind, whereby it distinguishes good from evil; whereby man is distinguished from beasts, and wherein he greatly surpasses them: or reason is that principle, where, by comparing several ideas together, we draw consequences from the relations they are found to have.—Anon. DURING a period of some six or seven years, succeeding the accession of William of Orange to the throne of England, that portion of the American seaboard, extending from Cape Cod to the shores of New Jersey, was infested by a set of daring rovers, outlawed from society, and familiar with every species of crime and piracy. The easy access to the harbors and inlets, the countless number of secure hiding places, along the coast, together with the great facilities afforded for escape in case of pursuit, made it a most advantageous rendezvous for those who had set at defiance all laws of right and justice. The inefficacy of the laws was also in their favor. Each rover boldly entered the harbors of New York and Boston at mid-day, certain that if not welcomed, they would be allowed to dispose of their cargoes and retire unmolested; and as fearlessly landed and mingled with the quiet inhabitants. There were not a few of the wealthy traders whom public opinion had set down as having connection, although indirectly, with their lawless visitants. At length Lord Ballamont succeeded Governor Fletcher in the administration of the government of New York, and being a man of strong and determined mind, he resolved to use every means in his power to extirpate the league, and place an effectual check upon the licentious depravity, which had already begun to work its poisonous influence upon the little community which had been placed under his charge. Delay, he was well aware, was dangerous. Every day, every hour, increased the evil. Gambling, carousing and midnight brawls were now to be witnessed in the public streets, which before had only teemed with the stirring, busy industry of the merchants of New Amsterdam. Wealth, originally obtained by violence, was pouring in fast. Desperadoes and renegades of every clime, from pole to pole, fearlessly promenaded the streets, armed for resistance, and unhesitatingly avowing their illegal vocation. At length to such an extent had things arrived that it was no longer deemed prudent to overlook them. Already, had the unwished for notoriety, to the scandal of New England and New York, extended across the ocean. The enemies of the colonies had been industriously at work and their dear bought fame, purchased at the price of innumerable hardships, was now associated with every thing that was evil. Reform was imperatively necessary and the home government arousing, as it were, from wilful inactivity, at length, began to take measures to bring to justice or effectually exile the nefarious cabal from the waters of the colonies. Among the principal charges contained in the instructions of the Earl of Bellamont, was one which authorized him to fit out a craft for the capture, if possible, of the gangs of pirates who infested the coast, and accordingly, immediately upon his arrival in New York, he made it his first business to obey his commands to the letter. While Governor of Barbadoes, chance had frequently thrown him in contact with an unprincipled commander of a slaver about whose origin but little or nothing was known. For a long time he had appeared at regular intervals, always laden with rich and valuable cargoes which he professed to have received in exchange for negroes, and his appearance was invariably welcomed by the merchants; for every one who traded with him was pretty certain of getting his invoices at less than half of their original value. Having sold his merchandize he would stay ashore until every penny was squandered in dissipation, and then, hastening aboard, he would spread his sails and stretch away-whither no one knew, but about that none were concerned; for as regularly as the moon changed, his light cutter was at anchor in the harbor. He was mysterious himself, and so were all his movements. He always came and went in the night. Such a man had Lord Ballamont selected to lead the enterprise he had conceived. He had studied his character coolly and deliberately. He knew him to be entirely devoid of principle and not altogether scrupulous about the means he employed so that his ends were attained, but at the same time he knew that he possessed a bold and fearless mind, a perfect recklessness of life and a disposition to seek out danger for the fierce pleasure of the excitement in subduing it. Another motive which had great influence in the selection was this Lord Bellamont judged and not incorrectly, that from his roving excursions upon the ocean, and depraved habits, he had been thrown frequently in the way of these very outcasts-perhaps was one himself— and of necessity was intimately acquainted with their secret lurking places, rendezvous, and, in fact, might possibly be possessed of all their secrets. Such an ally was an acquisition of too much importance to be disregarded, and the Earl resolved, that let the consequences be what they might, he would leave no means untried to engage him in the expedition, and actuated also possibly, by the hopes of sharing in the valuable booty with which the vessels of the proscribed were known to be loaded, the Governor lost not a moment in forwarding his preparations with all possible speed. war, The sun had gone down in all its radiant glory at the close of a day in June, 1696, and the mild, cheerful twilight of a summer's evening had fallen upon the bay and town of New York. The waters of the harbor were lulled to rest, and the streams of the two noble rivers which washed the banks of the then little city, upon either side, were flowing gently to their confluence. The solitude of a wilderness seemed to hang upon every thing around. Down the harbor, the haughty-like brig of from whose peak the insignia of Great Britain drooped listlessly, yielding to every puff of air, floated lazily at her anchor. The busy hum of industry which during the day had resounded through the streets, had given place to a deep and almost unbroken silence. The air seemed hot and feverish. Now and then, some worthy burgher as he wended his homeward way, content with the proceeds of his day's traffic, gave vent to his satisfaction in humming some Dutch melody. Now a thrifty housewife screamed to a gossiping neighbor across the street, and then silence again assumed its sway, until at intervals the rattling of a ricketty vehicle, the challenge |