Mountain Scenery. THERE is something in the wildness and sublimity of mountain scenery, that tends to remind us rather of eternity than decay. The perishable works of man are nowhere to be seen. No city lies in gloomy ruins, to show the outlines of its faded greatness; no remnant of a sanctuary here stands to show the worship that has passed away. We see no falling record of the glorious deeds of those whose names are learnt in history's We stand upon the mountain and we scarcely know that man exists upon the earth. page. grand obstacle to its enjoyment. Too often is this unpleasant picture to be seen in many discontented families, which a little serious reflection might have prevented from being so unfortunately realized. Never be prevailed upon to yield your affections to any one, however he may shine in the gay circles of the world, if you are convinced he has no relish for the enjoyments of retired life. The man who likes every house but his own, will scarcely take the trouble of making home agreeable to others, when it is disgusting to himself. In fact, it will be the only place in which he will give way to, or indulge in discontent and ill humor. Such people are forever strangers to the dear delights of the social state, and all the real comforts of a well regulated family. He that is indiscriminate at home-wherever he be-is never at home, and he feels himself a stranger or visitor amid his closest connexions. This is not the land where arts have died, or Advices to Unmarried Ladies. If you have a pretty foot-wear short dresses. there are scenes in life which seem created to awaken in mankind the recollection, that even time can lose its power. Who will not feel the nothingness of the pleasures, the cares, nay, or even the sorrows of our petty span, when, for a moment, he dwells, with his heart and soul, upon the thoughts of an eternity! Yes, it will sober the gay, it will comfort the grieved.—Everett. If you have good teeth-don't forget to laugh now and then. If you have bad ones-you must only simper. While you are young-sit with your face to the light. While you are a little advanced—sit with you back to the window. If you have a bad voice-speak in a low tone. If you dance well-dance but seldom. If you sing well-make no previous excuses. a If in conversation you think a person wrongrather hint a difference of opinion than offer a contradiction. If you find a person telling a falsehood-let it pass over in silence; it is not worth your while to make any one your enemy, by proving Lima It is always in your power to make a friend by smiles-what a folly to make enemies by frowns! When you have an opportunity to praise-do it with all your heart. When you are forced to blame-appear, at least, to do it with reluctance. If you are envious of another woman-never show it but by allowing her every good quality and perfection except those she really possesses. Reflections before Marriage. DID young people only seriously consider the important change which marriage must necessarily produce in their situation, how much more cautious would it make them in the choice of a companion for life! Alas! what avails the graces of the finest figure, the most captivating address, or even the assemblage of all that is enchanting, if the heart be depraved, or the conduct imprudent! The gayest associates of the convivial hour, may prove the dullest and most unfit companion for the domestic circle; and he who is never satisfied but in a crowd, or when engaged in If you wish to let the world know you are in a continual round of pleasure, is very unlikely to love with a particular man-treat him with formamake a tender and prudent husband. Should sick-lity, and every one else with ease and freedom. ness or distress draw near, depend upon it, he would If you are disposed to be pcttish or insolent-it fly their approach. If beauty alone excited his pas-is better to exercise your ill humor on your dog,, sion, it would cease to exist when you are deprived of those attractions upon which it was founded. If fortune should be the inducement, that will likewise soon loose its value in his sordid mind; and the very person, you will find, who brought him the wealth for which he sighed, will be considered as the your cat, or your servant, than your friends. ORIGINAL. LEAVES FROM A STUDENT'S FORT-FOLIO. NUMBER FOUR. A COLLEGE REMINISCENCE. (Dedicated to my old friends and college cronics, J. W. and H. L. K.) Ir has ever been my fate, to have all the odd and eccentric characters within my neighborhood attach themselves to me. If there is in my vicinity an old maid or village aunt, a crazy man, a lame dog, or a scalded cat, I have always been the obJect of their affection; often much to my annoy. ance. I always had a great horror of a 'bore,' yet few persons are to this day more frequently and scientifically bored than my self. I never could find it in my heart to refuse the most inveterate lounger a seat at my fire, and if he took a pipe with me, 'twas like eating salt together, among the Maho metans,—to give him a hint was impossible. In my college days bores were among my greatest torments. Yet I never took any stronger measures against them, than once to request a fellow who had been seated three hours in my favorite elbow chair, and who presented every appearance of intending to pass the night there, not to be in a hurry'. He took the hint and left me in peace for about a week. One of my most regular visitors was an idle, Rip Van Winkle sort of a fellow, who earned his subsistance by supplying the students with pies, cakes, etc. He would frequently quarter himself in my room for hours together, smoke, talk politics, and read the papers; nor was there any way of avoiding him, if I had been so inclined. Often have I heard his well known step advance to my door, and resolve to refuse him admittance. He would give a low rap; Busy,' I would exclaim with the lungs of a Stentor; but it was all in vain. The latch would first tremble, then rattle, then rise under his touch; the door would slowly open, and in would walk my indefatigable friend Old Jose'. "Busy are you!" was his usual exclamation; "well if you are busy I wont talk politics as I meant to, but I guess I'll take a pipe." And sure enongh he was fixed for an hour at least. But woe to the poor wretches who owed him any money! To such he seemed to possess ubiquity. He attended them at every step, and watched every motion, and when they called another Jose came.' Poor old Jose! Methinks I see thee now, sitting, as was thy wont, modestly in the corner blowing a cloud' in the laziest possible manner, now letting the smoke curl gracefully from one corner of thy mouth, and now removing the pipe to give place to some wise apothegm of policy; for Jose was no bad politician. Many that have borne the bat toon of office have been worse. But Jose now sleeps with his fathers, and the sod that must soon cover the hand that now writes, and darken from the world the bright eye that now perchance may read, presses on his dust. Peace be to his ashes. Another of my particular cronies was a crazy fellow from a neighboring asylum for the insane. He was a man of about forty years, and a figure that would have embellished an engraving of Hogarth. Tall, gaunt, and with a countenance like a hatchet. His head was covered with one of those old fashioned bell-crowned hats, with enormous brims, that figured so largely in the time of our boyhood; it had seen its best days, and might have descended from generation to generation like the armour of the Grecian warriors. His coat ked been black, and was threadbare; it had that peculiar pedigogical appearance, that betrayed the rule of the birchen rod. Nor were his inexpressibles of a more modern date or a newer fashion. He appeared like what the Scotch expressively term, a Gentleman under a cloud,' and might have sat for the picture of the Giant Despair, or the Knight of the Rueful countenance. I never could look at him without thinking of Falstaff''s description of Justice ShallowHe was like a man made after supper of a cheese paring,' or 'a forked radish with a head fantastically carved on it with a knife'-The very genius of famine.' The first time that this meagre object met my eyes, was one morning when I was particularly engaged. I had heard in silence several urgent appeals to the soundness of my oaken door; but without taking the trouble to knock, slowly raising the latch, in walked the being I have attempted to describe; he seated himself comfortably by the fire, but, as like Daniel O'Rourk, 'I was used to all kinds of botherations,' I took no notice of his remarkable self-possession, and offering him a pipe, waiting patiently till he should open the conversation. This he shortly did, and in such a manner that I was not long in doubt as to the state of his mental functions. He was not, however, as he justly observed, exactly crazy, but a little wandering on some points. And I soon found that there were topics on which he could converse with much reason and propriety. ter. He had been a village school-masOne of those indefatigable men, of whom New England sends out her thousands; with little ambition save to reign the monarch over their juvenile subjects, and to cultivate the good will of those amiable housewives who are never so happy as when taking care of the pedigogue or the parson. Such are the men who in their quiet, unobtrusive way, do often an infinate deal of good. The zeal for education, had however glowed too strongly in this poor man's breast to allow him to restrict his gets that any one sets a higher value on time than labors to so narrow a circle. He thought he had himself. From such, (and there are many such,) made some improvements in the science of teach-Angels, and ministers of grace, defend us!' ing; and ambition, which has so often been the bane of those who have made a greater figure in the world, proved his ruin. He must needs discover to mankind his views. So he printed, and lectured, and wrote, till he lost his school, his money, and his wits. Some kind friend provided for his comfort in this unhappy state, and lodged him where he might recover his mind and become able once more to wield the birchen rod of power. Meanwhile this gentleman had taken a great fancy to me or my fireside, and day after day, he paid me a social visit. Good man! It was with a heartfelt pleasure that on passing through the little town of H I found him there in full possession of his wits and a whole coat, and, O Themis! a Justice of Peace. It would be useless for me to attempt to describe all the idlers, and good-for naughts, who thought they had a claim upon my time;-I should be boring my readers as much as I have often been bored myself were I to do so. There was old black Jem, the college bell-ringer, (by no means the least respectable person in the institution,) who always made sure of a corner in my room on a rainy day, or when he wished to elude the observation of certain of the faculty who would have employed him in filling a cistern or cleaning a miniature steam engine; for both which occupations, Jem had a most unscientific aversion. Jem was an odd genius in his way, and was as much addicted to dreaming, as Colonel Johnson and his Indians. Often has he had nocturual visions of glasses of wine, odd shillings, or old coats, which were always sure to be verified in the morning; but Jem was a grateful fellow, and was always ready to render a quid pro quo. Lucky was the man who had Jem for a friend, for his bed would be made and his room swept, if he slept till ten in the morning. Jem was decidedly the most useful of all my college cronies; of his class at least. After all, though I sometimes groaned a little under too frequent visits, I should hardly have liked to dismiss these trespassers on my time. They seemed attached to me; and there was something in the nature of our intercourse that made our obligations in some measure reciprocal. They enjoyed my fireside and tobacco. I had the privilege of studying their characters; and they had often some original feature which made them at once amusing and instructing. It is a principle long established, that we must not hope to study character successfully in the polished circles of high life. There, artificial form and ceremony obscure the play of passion, and the workings of the mind. It is rather among the unsophisticated and rude, that the noblest study of mankind,' is prosecuted with the greatest advantage. It is not therefore by men like those I have described, that we are often really annoyed; we know that we can generally get rid of them if we choose; but it is the dull, insiped coxcomb, who is the real bore. The man who cannot take a hint, and whom you do not wish, for your own sake, to insult, the dull proser or noisy babbler, who for ORIGINAL. D. L. Recollections of an Aged Pastor. BY MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. So duly lifted in the house of God, And by the gush of bitter tears, when first When Fancy's smile Thy fourscore years From the Drawing-Room Scrap-Book, 1836. The Hindoo Girl's Song. FLOAT On-float on, my haunted bark Float on-float on, thy freight is flowers, Float on--float on, thy shining lamp, Float on, beneath the moonlight float, The sacred billows o'er; Ah, some kind spirit guard my boat, For it has gained the shore. The Snow-Drop. THOU beautiful new comer, Why art thou blooming now? Is dark with winter green; Not such as in the valley At sweet spring time is sheen. The lime tree's tender yellow, The aspen's silvery seen, With mingled colors mellow, The universal green. Now solemn yews are bending 'Mid gloomy firs around; And in long dark wreaths descending No violet on the grass. Though the singing-rill be frozen, While the wind forsakes the west; 'Tis the love for long years cherished ORIGINAL. THI NEGRO INSURRECTION, A Tale of New Orleans. thing as rank which raises a man above the canaille-there was splendor, which kept vulgar minds at a distance, and procured the owner the respect which is denied him here in this equalizing country " Soon after his arrival at New Orleans, Monsieur de Lanneville married the daughter of a rich Creole planter, and at his death, succeeded to Le Bocage,, the plantation on which he now resided. They had many children, who all died young, except one, a daughter. She was the child of their old age, and they almost idolized her. HA! this looks well-my spells begin to work, to conceal his agitation. Then there was such a and I shall soon have the satisfaction of separating that cold blooded Northerner from my gentle Natalie." So spoke Vincent de Bourg, who stood like another Satan, exulting over the misery he was ereating. The Eden into which this spirit of evil was gazing, was one of those French gardens, a few of which, still remain around New Orleans on the borders of the Mississippi. It appeared a complete bower of orange trees, whose pure white soins contrasted with its golden fruit, and deep green glossy leaves, threw an air of richness, beauty, and coolness over the scene. The young Frenchman had made his way into this "sweet solitary nook," by removing a piquet of the cypress fence, one of which, the slaves generally contrive to keep loose, as a means of escaping at night to their clandestine excursions. Before him, extended an alley formed by orange trees, whose close foliage was trimmed so as to resemble arches. Beyond this, the glimmering of water was seen through the trees, which flowed in a canal, whose banks were ornamented by vases formed from the small myrtle orange trees, cut with such exactness, as to appear as if chisscled out of green marble.Himself concealed, Vincent de Bourg gazed thro' the blossomed boughs, up the alley, where stood a bower of multiflora roses, so closely covered with those small pink flowers, as to resemble a rose colored tent, thrown up under the shade of those trees of ancient beauty." There sat a fair young girl, her head reclining on her hand, over which, fell in disorder, her bright chesnut ringlets, while from her large hazel eyes, fixed on vacancy, tears of bitter sorrow were slowly rolling down. She scemed some tender floweret, over which a sudden storm has passed and left it prostrate and crushed. On the other side of the garden, a gay and graceful young Creole girl was coquettishly smiling, while a young gentleman was placing a bouquet of the scarlet pomegranate flowers in her hair. The house which joined this garden, was built with a shelving roof, that projected so as to form a covering to the piazzas or galleries, that ran all around it. Celeste de Lanneville was extremely beautiful. Her skin was fair, without a trace of color, which contrasted pleasingly with her glossy black hair and soft dark eyes. Her form and features were moulded with the most classic elegance. She was endowed with great talents, and with the assistance of her father, was skilled in many accomplishments. Celeste was indulged to excess by both her parents. Her father brought from France an excellent library, but the passionate feelings and lively imagination of young Celeste, led her to prefer his French romances, over which she spent many hours. In consequence, she had imbibed so much taste for mystery and intrigue, that her passions, fostered by such culture, had assum. ed great mastery over her, and would have made her strict mother, could she have read her daughter's heart, tremble for her safety. Conscious of her defects, Celeste had as yet been artful enough to conceal them, and was pronounced by all, a lovely and fascinating girl. The greatest charm which Celeste possessed, was the variety of her manner. At one time, she was all polish and dignity-at another, the archness, the sparkling vivacity of her conversation, chained all listeners to her side, and then again, she touched their hearts by her languishing grace, or the thrilling tenderness which beamed from her soft dark eyes. Woe to him on whose conquest Celeste was bent, for she was a finished coquette, and seldom failed to bring her victim to her feet, only to be scorned again. The young creature, who sat in the multiflora bower dissolved in grief, was a foundling, whohad been brought up in the family of Monsieur de Lanneville as a daughter. Many years back, the country had been deluged by a crevasse of the Mississippi, and this child had been found by some slaves in a ruined house, the inhabitants of which had all perished. Nothing was known of the family, except that they spoke English. The little Natalie, as she was now christened, had ever been a favorite with her adopted parents and sister. If not as brilliantly beautiful as Celeste, the qualities of her heart and mind were far superior. As if the misfortunes of her family had cast an enduring shade over the young Natalie, her |