TOWN AMUSEMENTS IN GERMANY.

THERE is one advantage which their towns universally possess over ours; and that is, in the abundance of public walks, public gardens and promenades, where every citizen can wander, or can sit and rejoice with his family and his friends. All round their towns, in general, you find these ample public walks and promenades planted with trees and furnished with seats. The old walls and ramparts which formerly gave security to the inhabitants, are now converted into sources of their highest pleasures, being thus planted and seated, and made scenes of the gayest resort, and whence the finest views are obtained over the surrounding country. The suburbs and neighborhood of all large cities, again, are full of public gardens; with alleys and extensive woodland walks, where the people all summer flock out, and find refreshment at coffee-houses, and bands of music presided over by the first masters in Germany. The cities being seldom very large, the people thus enjoy a sort of halfcity, half-rural life, but refined and beautified with social and artistical influences, of which ours is too much stripped. In England, every man takes care of himself, and makes his own nest snug; beside lighting and paving, little seems done for the public in our towns. Here, on the contrary, the public enjoyment seems to be the favorite and prevailing idea, and you see around you perpetual evidences of its working. The people have in the outskirts of their cities, their vineyards and their summer-houses in them, where they can go with their families and friends. But they have again, their public gardens and woodlands all round their large towns, to a dozen miles' distance. They have similar places of more rustic resort, often on the most beautiful mountain heights, and in mountain valleys, to which they pour out on leisure days, in carriages and by railroads, by thousands. Here they often have dinners. Here they even come with their families, taking whole troops of children with them; and there you find them in old orchards, amid castle ruins, under the trees, and, in short, through all the surrounding hills and valleys. They dine in great family groups - the men sitting often in their shirt-sleeves; the children rolling in the grass; and the landlords hurrying about, dealing out plates and viands to hungry people, in a broil of what seems hopeless hurry. They afterward smoke their pipes, drink their coffee, and go home at an early hour as happy as this earth can make them. Mary Howitt.

DOMESTIC LOVE.

BY PARK BENJAMIN.

WHEN those we love are present to the sight,
When those we love hear fond affection's words,
The heart is cheerful, as in morning light,

The merry song of early-wakened birds;
And, O! the atmosphere of home-how bright
It floats around us, when we sit together
Under a bower of vine in summer weather,
Or round the hearthstone in a winter's night!
This is a picture not by Fancy drawn-
The eve of life contrasted with its dawn;
A gray-haired man-a girl of sunny eyes;

He seems to speak, and laughing, she replies;

While father, mother, brothers, smile to see

How fair their rosebud blooms beneath the parent tree!

LITERARY NOTICES.

THE PSALTERY.-A new book of Church Music. George J. Webb. Published by Wilkins, Carter & Co.

By Lowell Mason and Boston.

Three pages are given, descriptive of the leading features of this work. We have space, however, to notice only three or four of them.

1. The two highest parts, namely, the treble and tenor, are kept within the compass of the voices of singers in general. In most books of church music, these parts are set too high; but even if they could be sung high, the effect is much more pleasing when the parts are nearer each other.

2. The exciting chromatic combinations of modern authors,' are sparingly used in the harmony, and instead thereof, we have the 'loftiness, richness, and fulness of the old harmonies.'

3. A number of the tunes have been so harmonized as to admit of the transposition of the treble and tenor.

4. We rejoice to see the minor scale revived. A hundred years ago it was chiefly used for psalmody; recently, we have gone to the other extreme.

We pronounce it, unhesitatingly, a most excellent collection of church music, evincing great labor, accomplished talent, and discriminating judgment.

We are pleased to see that it is published under the sanction and with the approbation of the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, as well as the Boston Academy of Music.

THE DUTY OF AMERICAN WOMEN TO THEIR COUNTRY.

Here is a book without a preface or an author. The author, however, is understood to be Miss Catherine E. Beecher. The work is a most powerful and eloquent appeal to American women on their duty to their country in relation to the subject of general education.

Published by Harper & Brothers, and for sale by Waite & Peirce.

3 Ah! cousin, the bee said, 'tis all very true,

But were I even half as much mischief to do,

Then I'm sure they would love me no better than you.
Bz. Then I'm, &c.

4 You have a fine shape and a delicate wing,

And they say you are handsome, but then there's one thing
They can never put up with, and that is your sting.
Bz. They can, &c.

5 My coat is quite homely and plain, as you see,
But yet no one is angry, or scolding at me,
Just because I'm a humble and innocent bee.
Bz. Just because, &c.

' AND so you sail to-morrow,' said a slender young woman, in a pensive voice, to the tall youth by her side. Were there no fifth commandment,' he replied, 'I should remain here; but my father needs and requires my assistance, and I embark in the Speedwell, to-morrow.'

William Brewster, who thus answered the pensive girl, had not without many and long struggles come to this decision. The voice of his father was to him the voice of God, and, he that loveth friend more than me is not worthy of me,' rung ever in his ears. Grace Robinson had been his playmate in childhood, and his choice in early youth. He would have asked her father's leave to marry her, but house-plant that she was, he could not himself consent to her being set out of doors. She would not stand it a month,' said the minister, when the matter was once alluded to, and we should lose her, and you, William, would be no better for her.' The young folks assented, and gave up their dearest earthly hopes. They understood each other, understood the commands of God alike, and trusted in Heaven.

6

'Promise me one thing, Grace,' said he, 'before parting.' Silence gave him leave to proceed. 'Promise me, that if any event of importance marks your life, you will write to me and tell me of it, yourself.' She bound herself willingly, and he, on his part, made a corresponding pledge. Nothing more definite was said, but they understood well enough what each meant. 'And now,' said he, taking her hand, as they stood on the large flat stone at the entrance

of the house, 'let us do our duty and prepare on

earth for a home above. There parting and sorrow are unknown. You will be the dearest spirit in heaven - my chosen companion there. Good night. May God bless and preserve you.'

Grace treasured these last words in her heart. They never grew old. The dearest spirit in heaven,' the murmuring brook and the gentle breeze echoed and reëchoed. Loving every body and seeking to make them happy, every body loved her. The child, and the man who tottered on his staff, and whose white hairs played in the breeze, blessed the damsel. Her vivacity was not the gambol of a fawn, or the gayety of a butterfly, but the animation of thought and the leaping of a heart happy in its benevolence. Blessing and being blessed, four years passed away and left her fairer and livelier than at eighteen. Sorrow, such as she had not known, was then mingled in her cup.

On a delightful Sabbath morning, about the middle of April, the rising sun, as it found its way through the crevices of the wooden shutters, into a large lower room in one of the back streets of Leyden, (Holland,) revealed a scene of blended joy and grief. On the bed, in a corner of the room, lay a man not yet beyond the prime of life, evidently at death's door. His face was serene and happy. A pale and sorrowing woman of age to match his own, sat at the head of the bed, feeling his wrist with one hand, and bathing his temples with the other. A maiden of twenty years, or more, sat at the opposite corner, leaning on the bed-post, and shaded from observation by the white drapery of the curtains. The other children were present, with sad countenances. One, a darling hardly three years old, all ignorant of death, was hanging about the boy of twelve years, and earnestly saying, 'What do you cry so for? Father will be better soon.' A stand stood near the bed with cordials. A round, three-legged mahogany table was in another corner, and on it lay an English Bible, a Pilgrim's Progress, a History of Virginia, and a Description of New England. Portraits of Wickliffe, John Knox, and Queen Bess adorned the wall. The faces, books, pictures, furniture, and the tongue, all betokened the family as an exotic from England. Nothing, save the pictured tiles in the chimney-piece, gave intimation that they were in the land of the Dutchman.

It was the family of the exiled Robinson, who had worn out his