"I have lived to see the close of the third year of our separation. This is a melancholy anniversary to me, and many tender scenes arise in my mind upon the recollection. I feel unable to sustain even the idea that it will be half that period ere we meet again. Life is too short to have the dearest of its enjoyments curtailed; the social feelings grow callous by disuse, and lose that pliancy of affection which sweetens the cup of life as we drink it. The rational pleasures of friendship and society, and the still more refined sensations of which delicate minds only are susceptible, like the tender blossom, when the rude northern blasts assail them, shrink within and collect themselves together, deprived of the all-cheering and beamy influence of the sun. The blossom falls, and the fruit withers and decays; but here the similitude fails, for, though lost for the present, the season returns, the tree vegetates anew, and the blossom again puts forth. “But, alas! with me those days which are past are gone for ever, and time is hastening on that period when I must fall to rise no more, until mortality shall put on immortality, and we shall meet again, pure and disembodied spirits. Could we live to the age of the antediluvians, we might better support this separation; but, when threescore years and ten circumscribe the life of man, how painful is the idea, that, of that short space, only a few years of social happiness are our allotted portion! The social affections are and may be made the truest channels for our pleasures and comforts to flow through. Heaven formed us not for ourselves but others, And bade self-love and social be the same.' "Perhaps there is no country where there is a fuller exercise of those virtues than ours at present exhibits, which is, in a great measure, owing to the equal distribution of property, the small number of inhabitants in proportion to its territory, the equal distribution of justice to the poor as well as the rich, to a government founded in justice and exercised with impartiality, and to a religion which teaches peace and good-will to man; to knowledge and learning being so easily acquired and so universally distributed; and to that sense of moral obligation which generally inclines our countrymen to do to others as they would that others should do to them. Perhaps you will think that I allow to them more than they deserve, but you will consider that I am only speaking comparatively. Human nature is much the same in all countries, but it is the government, the laws, and religion, which form the character of a nation. Wherever luxury abounds, there you will find corruption and degeneracy of manners. Wretches that we are, thus to misuse the bounties of Providence, to forget the hand that blesses us, and even deny the source from whence we derived our being. "But I grow too serious. To amuse you, then, my dear niece, I will give you an account of the dress of the ladies at the ball of the Comte d'Adhémar; as your cousin tells me that she some time ago gave you a history of the birth-day and ball at court, this may serve as a counterpart. Though, should I attempt to compare the apartments, St. James's would fall as much short of the French Ambassador's, as the court of his Britannic Majesty does of the splendour and magnificence of that of his Most Christian Majesty. I am sure I never saw an assembly room in America, which did not exceed that at St. James's in point of elegance and decoration; and, as to its fair visitors, not all their blaze of diamonds set off with Parisian rouge, can match the blooming health, the sparkling eye, and modest deportment of the dear girls of my native land. As to the dancing, the space they had to move in gave them no opportunity to display the grace of a minuet, and the full dress of long court-trains and enormous hoops, you well know were not favourable for country dances, so that I saw them at every disadvantage; not so the other evening. They were much more properly clad;-silk waists, gauze, or white or painted tiffany coats, decorated with ribbon, beads, Here is the description of a scene in London, or flowers, as fancy directed, were chiefly worn when Mrs. Adams was there, in 1786. Should at my feet the world's great master fall, Himself, his world, his throne, I'd scorn them all.' "No. Give me the man I love; you are neither of an age or temper to be allured by the splendour of a court, or the smiles of princesses. I never suffered an uneasy sensation on that account. I know I have a right to your whole heart, because my own never knew another lord; and such is my confidence in you, that, if you were not withheld by the strongest of all obligations, those of a moral nature, your honour would not suffer you to abuse my confidence." "London, 2 April, 1786. "YOUR kind letter, my dear niece, was received with much pleasure. These tokens of love and regard, which I know flow from the heart, always find their way to mine, and give me a satisfaction and pleasure beyond anything which the ceremony and pomp of courts and kingdoms can afford. by the young ladies. Hats turned up at the sides with diamond loops and buttons of steel, large bows of ribbons and wreaths of flowers, displayed themselves to much advantage upon the heads of some of the prettiest girls England can boast. The light from the lustres is more favourable to beauty than daylight, and the colour acquired by dancing, more becoming than rouge, as fancy so large, nor quite so red, but has a very small eye, with the most impudent face you can possibly form an idea of, joined to manners so masculine, that I was obliged frequently to recollect that line of Dr. Young's, * Believe her dress; she's not a grenadier ;' * * * * Extract from a letter to a female friend, written in 1809, when Mrs. Adams was about 65 years of age: "Ossian says, 'Age is dark and unlovely.' When I look in my glass, I do not much wonder at the story related of a very celebrated painter, Zeuxis, who, it is said, died of laughing at a comical picture he had made of an old woman. If our glass flatters us in youth, it tells us truths in age. The cold hand of death has frozen up some of the streams of our early friendships; the congelation is gaining upon our vital powers, and marking us for the tomb. May we so number our days as to apply our hearts unto wisdom.' The man is yet unborn, who duly weighs an hour.' dresses are more favourable to youth than the formality of a uniform. There was as great a variety of pretty dresses, borrowed wholly from France, as I have ever seen; and amongst the rest, some with sapphire-blue satin waists, spangled with silver, and laced down the back and seams with silver stripes; white satin petticoats trimmed with black and blue velvet ribbon; an odd kind of head-dress, to persuade myself that I was not mistaken." which they term the helmet of Minerva.' I did not observe the bird of wisdom, however, nor do I know whether those who wore the dress had suitable pretensions to it. 'And pray,' say you, 'how were my aunt and cousin dressed?' If it will gratify you to know, you shall hear. Your aunt, then, wore a full-dress court cap without the lappets, in which was a wreath of white flowers, and blue sheafs, two black and blue flat feathers (which cost her half a guinea a-piece, but that you need not tell of), three pearl pins, bought for court, and a pair of pearl ear-rings, the cost of them no matter what; less than diamonds, however. A sapphire blue demi-saison with a satin stripe, sack and petticoat trimmed with a broad black lace; crape flounce, &c.; leaves made of blue ribbon, and trimmed with white floss; wreaths of black velvet ribbon spotted with steel beads, which are much in fashion, and brought to such perfection as to resemble diamonds; white ribbon also, in the Vandyke style, made up of the trimming, which looked very elegant; a full dress handkerchief, and a bouquet of roses. 'Full gay, I think, for my aunt.' That is true, Lucy, but nobody is old in Europe. I was seated next the duchess of Bedford, who had a scarlet satin sack and coat, with a cushion full of diamonds, for hair she has none, and is but seventy-six, neither. Well, now for your cousin; a small, white Leghorn hat, bound with pink satin ribbon; a steel buckle and band which turned up at the side, and confined a large pink bow; large bow of the same kind of ribbon behind; a wreath of full-blown roses round the crown, and another of buds and roses withinside the hat, which, being placed at the back of the hair, brought the roses to the edge; you see it clearly; one red and black feather, with two white ones, completed the headdress. A gown and coat of Chambéri gauze, with a red satin stripe over a pink waist, and coat flounced with crape, trimmed with broad point and pink ribbon; wreaths of roses across the coat; gauze sleeves and ruffles. But the poor girl was so sick with a cold, that she could not enjoy herself, and we retired about one o'clock, without waiting supper, by which you have lost half a sheet of paper, I dare say; but I cannot close without describing to you Lady N- and her daughter. She is as large as Captain C's wife, and much such a made woman, with a much fuller face, of the colour and complexion of Mrs. C, who formerly lived with your uncle Palmer, and looks as if porter and beef stood no chance before her; add to this, that it is covered with large red pimples, over which, to help the natural redness, a coat of rouge is spread; and, to assist her shape, she was dressed in white satin, trimmed with scarlet ribbon. Miss N is not "When my family was young around me, I used to find more leisure, and think I could leave it with less anxiety than I can now. There is not any occasion for detailing the whys and the wherefores. It is said, if riches increase, those increase that eat them; but what shall we say, when the eaters increase without the wealth? You know, my dear sister, if there be bread enough, and to spare, unless a prudent attention manage that sufficiency, the fruits of diligence will be scattered by the hand of dissipation. No man ever prospered in the world without the consent and co-operation of his wife. It behoves us, who are parents or grand-parents, to give our daughters and granddaughters, when their education devolves upon us, such an education as shall qualify them for the useful and domestic duties of life, that they should learn the proper use and improvement of time, since time was given for use, not waste.' The finer accomplishments, such as music, dancing, and painting, serve to set off and embellish the picture; but the groundwork must be formed of more durable colours. "I consider it as an indispensable requisite, that every American wife should herself know how to order and regulate her family; how to govern her domestics, and train up her children. For this purpose, the all-wise Creator made woman an help-meet for man; and she who fails in these duties does not answer the end of her creation. 'Life's cares are comforts; such by Heaven designed; They that have none must make them, or be wretched. Cares are employments; and, without employ, The soul is on a rack, the rack of rest.' I have frequently said to my friends, when they have thought me overburdened with care, I would rather have too much than too little. Life stagnates without action. I could never bear merely to vegetate; Waters stagnate when they cease to flow.' These letters have an air of romantic sentiment; and yet it was only the expression of true feeling which Mrs. Adams always exhibited in her daily conduct. Her grand-son, Charles F. Adams, thus accounts for the style which characterizes her correspondence: "In her neighbourhood, there were not many advantages of instruction to be found; and even in Boston, the small metropolis nearest at hand, for reasons already stated, the list of accomplishments within the reach of females was, probably, very short. She did not enjoy an opportunity to acquire even such as there might have been, for the delicate state of her health forbade the idea of sending her away from home to obtain them. In a letter, written in 1817, the year before her death, speaking of her own deficiencies, she says: My early education did not partake of the abundant opportunities which the present days offer, and which even our common country schools now afford. I never was sent to any school. I was always sick. Female education, in the best families, went no further than writing and arithmetic; in some few and rare instances, music and dancing.' Hence it is not unreasonable to suppose that the knowledge gained by her was rather the result of the society into which she was thrown, than of any elaborate instruction. "This fact, that the author of the letters in the present volume never went to any school, is a very important one to a proper estimate of her character. For, whatever may be the decision of the long-vexed question between the advantages of public and those of private education, few persons will deny, that they produce marked differences in the formation of character. Seclusion from companions of the same age, at any time of life, is calculated to develope the imaginative faculty, at the expense of the judgment; but especially in youth, when the most durable impressions are making. The ordinary consequence, in females of a meditative turn of mind, is the indulgence of romantic and exaggerated sentiments drawn from books, which, if subjected to the ordinary routine of large schools, are worn down by the attrition of social intercourse. These ideas, formed in solitude, in early life, often, though not always, remain in the mind, even after the realities of the world surround those who hold them, and counteract the tendency of their conclusions. They are constantly visible in the letters of these volumes, even in the midst of the severest trials. They form what may be considered the romantic turn of the author's mind; but, in her case, they were so far modified by a great admixture of religious principle and by natural good sense, as to be of eminent service in sustaining her through the painful situations in which she was placed, instead of nursing that species of sickly sensibility, which too frequently, in similar circumstances, impairs, if it does not destroy, the power of practical usefulness." inspiration of homage and flattery. This is human nature in its common form; and though female nature is often beautifully displayed in retirement, yet to change high station for a quiet home is a trial few women would have borne with such sweet serenity as did Mrs. Adams. She was, in retirement at Quincy, the same dignified, sensible, and happy woman, as when at the capitol, surrounded by fashion, wit, and intellect. This serenity arose from a settled and perfect, but philosophical and Christian contentment, which great minds only can feel. Such purity and elevation of soul preserve the faculties of the mind, and keep them vigorous even in old age. Thus lived this genuine daughter of America, leaving at her peaceful death, a rich legacy of the loftiest virtues, made manifest by her example, as the inheritance of the women of her beloved country. ADAMS, HANNAH, A CELEBRATED American writer, was born in Medfield, Massachusetts, in 1755. Her father was a respectable farmer in that place, rather better educated than persons of his class usually were at that time; and his daughter, who was a very delicate child, profited by his fondness for books. So great was her love for reading and study, that when very young she had committed to memory nearly all of Milton, Pope, Thomson, Young, and several other poets. When she was about seventeen her father failed in business, and Miss Adams was obliged to exert herself for her own maintenance. This she did at first by making lace, a very profitable employment during the revolutionary war, as very little lace was then imported. But after the termination of the conflict she was obliged to resort to some other means of support; and having acquired from the students who had boarded with her father, a competent knowledge of Latin and Greek, she undertook to prepare young men for college; and succeeded so well, that her reputation was spread throughout the state. Many women fill important stations with the most splendid display of virtues; but few are equally great in retirement; there they want the Her first work, entitled, "The View of Relianimating influence of a thousand eyes, and thegions," which she commenced when she was about thirty, is a history of the different sects in reli- | devoted herself to the abstract sciences, and at gion. It caused her so much hard study and close the age of nineteen supported a hundred and reflection, that she was attacked before the close ninety-one theses, which were afterwards pubof her labours by a severe fit of illness, and lished. She attained such consummate skill in threatened with derangement. Her next work was mathematics, that the pope allowed her to suca carefully written " History of New England;" ceed her father as professor at Bologna. Her and her third was on "The Evidences of the Chris- knowledge of ancient and modern languages was tian Religion." Though all these works showed also extensive. She died in 1799, at Milan, where great candour and liberality of mind and profound several years before she had taken the veil. Her research, and though they were popular, yet they great work is "Analytical Institutions," and has brought her but little besides fame; which, how- been translated by the Rev. John Colson, of the ever, had extended to Europe, and she reckoned University of Cambridge. This able mathematiamong her correspondents many of the learned cian considered "The Analytical Institutions" of men of all countries. Among these was the cele- Agnesi such an excellent work, that he studied brated abbé Gregoire, who was then struggling for Italian in order to translate it into English. At the emancipation of the Jews in France. He sent his death he left the manuscript ready for publiMiss Adams several volumes, which she acknow- cation. The commentators of Newton were acledged were of much use to her in preparing ber quainted with her mathematical works, while they own work, a "History of the Jews," now consi- were in manuscript. In 1801, the works were dered one of the most valuable of her productions. published in two volumes, at the expense of Baron Still, as far as pecuniary matters went, she was Maseres, to do honour to her memory, and also to singularly unsuccessful, probably from her want prove that women have minds capable of compreof knowledge of business, and ignorance in worldly | hending the most abstruse studies. Her eulogy matters; and, to relieve her from her embarrass- was pronounced in Italian by Frisé, and translated ments, three wealthy gentlemen of Boston, with into French by Boulard. In her genius she regreat liberality, settled an annuity upon her, of sembled Mrs. Somerville. which she was kept in entire ignorance till the whole affair was completed. The latter part of her life passed in Boston, in the midst of a large circle of friends, by whom she was warmly cherished and esteemed for the singular excellence, purity, and simplicity of her character. She died, November 15th, 1832, at the age of seventy-six, and was buried at Mount Auburn; the first one whose body was placed in that cemetery. Through life, the gentleness of her manners, and the sweetness of her temper were childlike; she trusted all her cares to the control of her heavenly Father; and she did not trust in vain. ADORNI, CATHARINE FIESCHI, A GENOESE lady, married a dissipated young man, Julian Adorni, whom, by her modest and virtuous conduct, she reclaimed. After his death she retired to Geneva, where she devoted herself to acts of piety and benevolence. She wrote several works on divinity; and died in 1510, aged sixty-three. ADRICHOMIA, CORNELIA, A DESCENDANT of the noble family of Adrictem, and a nun in Holland of the St. Augustine order, who lived in the sixteenth century, published a poetical version of the psalms, with several other religious poems. Her excellent understanding and erudition are commended by writers of her own time. She composed for herself the following epitaph: Corpus homo, animam superis Cornelia mando; AGNESI, MARIA GAETANA, A NATIVE of Milan, born March 16th, 1718, gave early indications of extraordinary abilities, AGREDA, MARIE D', SUPERIOR of a convent at Agreda, in Spain, founded by her parents, wrote a fanatical book on the life of the Virgin Mary, which she said had been revealed to her from heaven. A translation of this extravagant book, which was prohibited at Rome, was published at Brussels in 1717. Notwithstanding the absurdities of this work, it was deemed so fascinating and dangerous by the theological faculty at Paris, that it was thought proper to censure it. A violent opposition was made to the censure by some of the doctors of the Sorbonne, which, on this important occasion, were divided into two fierce parties, to one of whom the name of Agredians was given, which they long retained. One of the propositions of this singular work was "That God gave to the holy virgin all that he would, and would give her all that he could, and could give her all that was not of the essence of God." Marie d'Agreda died in 1665, aged sixty-three. Great efforts were made at Rome to procure her canonization, but without effect. AGOSTINA, THE MAID OF SARAGOSSA. SPAIN can boast of having produced heroines from the earliest records of history. The glorious memory of the women of Saguntum and Numantia, in the time of the Romans, and of Maria Pacheco, widow of the celebrated Padilla, may be paralleled in our days by the fame of Agostina of Saragossa. This illustrious maiden exposed her life for her king and country at the memorable siege of Saragossa in 1808. General Le Fevre had been despatched in the June of that year to reduce Saragossa, where the royal standard of the Bourbons had been unfurled. This city was not fortified; it was surrounded by an ill-constructed wall, twelve feet high by three broad, intersected by houses; these houses, the neighbouring churches and convents, were in so dilapidated a state, that from the roof to the foundation were to be seen in each immense breaches; apertures begun by time and increased by neglect. A large hill, called Il Torero, commanded the town at the distance of a mile, and offered a situation for most destructive bombardment. Among the sixty thousand inhabitants there were but two hundred and twenty regular troops, and the artillery consisted of ten old cannon. The French began the siege in a rather slothful style; they deemed much exertion unnecessary; Saragossa, they said, was only inhabited by monks and cowards. But their opinions and their efforts were destined to an entire revolution. Very seldom in the annals of war has greater heroism, greater bravery, greater horror and misery been concentrated, than during the two months that these desperate patriots repelled their invaders. No sacrifices were too great to be offered, no extremities too oppressive to be endured by the besieged; but, as it often occurs among the noblest bodies of men, that one sordid soul may be found open to the far-reaching hand of corruption, such a wretch happened to be entrusted with a powder-magazine at Saragossa. Under the influence of French gold, he fired the magazine on the night of the 2d of June. To describe the horrors that ensued would be impossible. The French, to whom the noise of the explosion had been a signal, advanced their troops to the gates. The population, shocked, amazed, hardly knowing what had occurred, entirely ignorant of the cause, bewildered by conflagration, ruins, and the noise of the enemy's artillery unexpectedly thundering in their ears, were paralyzed, powerless; the overthrow, the slaughter of those who stood at the ramparts, seemed more like a massacre than a battle; in a short time the trenches presented nothing but a heap of dead bodies. There was no longer a combatant to be seen; nobody felt the courage to stand to the defence. At this desperate moment an unknown maiden issued from the church of Nostra Donna del Pillas, habited in white raiment, a cross suspended from her neck, her dark hair dishevelled, and her eyes sparkling with supernatural lustre! She traversed the city with a bold and firm step; she passed to the ramparts, to the very spot where the enemy was pouring on to the assault; she mounted to the breach, seized a lighted match from the hand of a dying engineer, and fired the piece of artillery he had failed to manage; then kissing her cross, she cried with the accent of inspiration"Death or victory!" and reloaded her cannon. Such a cry, such a vision, could not fail of calling up enthusiasm; it seemed that heaven had brought aid to the just cause; her cry was answered "Long live Agostina !" Forward, forward, we will conquer!" resounded on every side. Nerved by such emotions, the force of every man was doubled, and the French were repulsed on all sides. General Lefevre, mortified at this unexpected result, determined to reduce the place by famine, as well as to distress it by bombardment from Il Torero. The horrors that followed his measures would be too painful to detail, but they afforded Agostina an opportunity of displaying her intrepidity. She threw herself in the most perilous positions, to rescue the unhappy beings wounded by the bombs or by the falling of timbers. She went from house to house, visiting the wounded, binding up their hurts, or supplying aid to the sick and starving. The French, by their indom table perseverance, had, from step to step, rendered themselves masters of nearly half the city. Lefevre thought his hour of triumph had now certainly arrived he sent to the commandant, Palafox, to demand a capitulation. Palafox received this in public; he turned to Agostina, who stood near him, completely armed "What shall I answer?" The girl indignantly replied, "War to the knife!" Her exclamation was echoed by the populace, and Palafox made her words his reply to Lefevre. Nothing in the history of war has ever been recorded, to resemble the consequence of this refusal to capitulate. One row of houses in a street would be occupied by the Spanish, the opposite row by the French. A continual tempest of balls passed through the air; the town was a volcano ; the most revolting butchery was carried on for eleven days and eleven nights. Every street, every house, was disputed with musket and poignard. Agostina ran from rank to rank, everywhere taking the most active part. The French were gradually driven back; and the dawn of the 17th of August, saw them relinquish this longdisputed prey, and take the road to Pampeluna. The triumph of the patriots-their joy, was unspeakable. Palafox rendered due honours to the brave men who had perished, and endeavoured to remunerate the few intrepid warriors who survived-among them was Agostina. But what could be offered commensurate with the services of one who had saved the city? Palafox told her to select what honours she pleased any thing |