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The blossoms hang again upon the tree

As when with their sweet breath they greeted me,
Against my casement, on that sunny morn,
When thou, first blossom of my spring, wast born;
And as I lay, panting from the fierce strife
With death and agony that won thy life,
Their sunny clusters hung on their brown bough,
E'en as upon my breast, my May-bud, thou;
They seem to be thy sisters, oh, my child!
And now the air, full of their fragrance mild,
Recalls that hour; a ten-fold agony

Pulls at my heart-strings as I think of thee
Was it in vain? Oh, was it all in vain!
That night of hope, of terror, and of pain,
When from the shadowy boundaries of death,
I brought thee safely, breathing living breath
Upon my heart it was a holy shrine,
Full of God's praise they laid thee, treasure mine!
And from its tender depths the blue heaven smiled,
And the white blossoms bowed to thee, my child,
And solemn joy of a new life was spread,
Like a mysterious halo round that bed.
And now how is it, since eleven years
Have steeped that memory in bitterest tears?
Alone, heart-broken, on a distant shore,
Thy childless mother sits lamenting o'er
Flowers, which the spring calls from this foreign earth,
The twins, that crowned the morning of thy birth.
How is it with thee lost lost precious one?
In thy fresh spring-time growing up alone?
What warmth unfolds thee? What sweet dews are shed,
Like Love and Patience, over thy young head?
What holy springs feed thy deep, inner life?
What shelters thee from Passion's deadly strife?
What guards thy growth, straight, strong, and full, and

Lovely and glorious, oh, my fair young tree?
God Father-thou who, by this awful fate,
Hast lopp'd, and stripp'd, and left me desolate!
In the dark bitter floods that o'er my soul
Their billows of despair triumphant roll.
Let me not be o'erwhelmed! Oh, they are thine,
These jewels of my life - not mine - not mine!
So keep them, that the blossoms of their youth
Shall in a gracious growth of love and truth,
With an abundant harvest honour Th e.


What shall I do with all the days and hours
That must be counted ere I see thy face?
How shall I charm the interval that lowers
Between this time and that sweet time of grace?

Shall I in slumber steep each weary sense, Weary with longing shall I flee away, Into past days, and with some fond pretence Cheat myself to forget the present day?

Shall love for thee lay on my soul the sin

Of casting from me God's great gift of time? Shall I, these mists of memory lock'd within, Leave and forget life's purposes sublime?

Oh! how, or by what means, shall I contrive
To bring the hour that brings thee back more near?
How shall I teach my drooping hope to live

Until that blessed time, and thou art here?

I'll tell thee; for thy sake I will lay hold

Of all good aims, and consecrate to thee, In worthy deeds each moment that is told, While thou, beloved one! art far from me.

For thee I will arouse my thoughts to try

All homeward flights, all high and holy strains, For thy dear sake I will walk patiently Through these long hours, nor call their minutes pains.

I will this dreary blank of absence make

A noble task-time, and will therein strive To follow excellence, and to o'ertake More good than I have won, since yet I live.

So may this doomed time build up in me

A thousand graces which shall thus be thine; So may my love and longing hallowed be, And thy dear thought an influence divine.


I planted in my heart one seed of love,

Water'd with tears, and watch'd with sleepless care;

It grew, and when I look'd that it should prove
A gracious tree, and blessed harvests bear,
Blossom nor fruit was there to crown my pain,
Tears, cares and labour, all had been in vain;
And yet I dare not pluck it from my heart,
Lest, with the deep-struck root, my life depart.


Is the sixth child and youngest daughter of Francis Duke of Saxe Saalfield Cobourg, and was born August 17th, 1786. She was married to Enrich Charles, hereditary Prince of Leiningen. Her husband died in 1814, leaving her with two children, the Prince of Leiningen, and the Princess Anna Feodoronna. She was then called to the regency, and her administration was popular and respected. In 1818, she married the Duke of Kent, son of George III., of England, and on the 24th of May, 1819, her only child by this marriage, Victoria, Queen of England, was born in Kensington Palace.

To understand how deeply Great Britain is indebted to the Duchess of Kent, for the exceeding care she bestowed in training her illustrious daughter, so that she might be worthy to sway the sceptre of that great empire, some knowledge of the history of Victoria's father is indispensable. Edward, Duke of Kent, fourth son of George III., was, according to a reliable work,* the noblest

*The Life of Field Marshal his Royal Highness Ed ward. Duke of Kent." &c. By Erskine Neal, M. A., Rector of Kirton, &c. London: 1849.


and best of all the sons of that royal house. these virtues, particularly his unflinching truthfulness, made him dreaded, disliked and persecuted, from his youth till his death, by the influential members of the royal family. It was with the greatest difficulty that he procured the means of leaving Amorbach, (a small town in Germany, where he had been residing with his wife) for England, in time for her confinement. The Duke wished his child to be born in the country where it might be destined to rule.

The following is an extract from one of his letters, dated March 19th, 1819, to Dr. Rudge:"The interesting situation of the duchess causes me hourly anxiety; and you, who so well know my views and feelings, can well appreciate how eagerly desirous I am to hasten our departure for Old England. The event is thought likely to occur about the end of next month. My wish is, that it may take place on the 4th of June, as this is the birth-day of my revered father; and that the child, too, like him, may be a Briton-born."

The Duchess earnestly participated in the desire to reach England; but that "royal profligate," the prince regent, threw every possible perplexity in the way. These were at last overcome; firm, devoted, but untitled, and, comparatively speaking, humble friends, in England made the requisite remittances, and the Duke and Duchess of Kent reached Kensington Palace in time to have their daughter a Briton-born. But her royal father lived only eight months after her birth, and the bereaved widow was left to endure a thousand anxieties as well as sorrows. Her babe was delicate in constitution, and the means for educating her as the heir expectant of the most powerful monarchy in the world, were inadequately and grudgingly supplied. None but a soul the highest order could have successfully struggled with the difficulties which beset the course of the Duchess of Kent. She was equal to her task, fortunately for humanity; the whole world is made better from having on the throne of Great Britain a sovereign who is firm in DUTY. The sketch of Queen Victoria will be found in its place we will only add here, that, for the right formation of her character, which makes DUTY a sacred principle in her conduct, she must have been indebted, in a great measure, to her early training. Let any mother, who has endeavoured to train her own daughter to perform the duties which, in private life, and in a small circle, devolve on woman, consider what conscientious care it has required; what sacrifices of self, what daily examples as well as precepts in the right way; and then she may, partly, estimate the merits of the mother of such a woman as Victoria I. of England. How excellent must have been the character that could acquire the authority and influence necessary to direct well and wisely the education of a young Princess! This was done, too, amidst serious obstacles and many discouragements. Miss Landon in her charming way, addresses a poem to the Duchess of Kent, containing this touching allusion:

"Oh! many a dark and sorrowing hour Thy widow'd heart had known, Before the bud became a flower,— The orphan on a throne."

The Duchess of Kent should hold a noble rank among women worthily distinguished; she has performed great and important duties with such

rare firmness, faithfulness and success as makes her a model for mothers in every rank of life.

KIRKLAND, CAROLINE M., WHOSE maiden name was Stansbury, was born in New York. At an early age she was married to Mr. William Kirkland, a scholar of great acquirements, and also highly esteemed as a man of much moral excellence of character. At the time of their marriage he resigned a professorship in Hamilton College, and established a seminary in the town of Goshen, on Lake Seneca. A few years afterwards he removed with his family to the then new State of Michigan, and made that experiment of" Forest Life," which gave opportunity for the development of Mrs. Kirkland's lively and observant genius, and also furnished material for her racy and entertaining works on Western manners and habits.


In 1839, her first book,-"A New HomeWho'll Follow? or, Glimpses of Western Life. By Mrs. Mary Clavers, an Actual Settler," was published in Boston. The freshness of feeling and piquancy of style displayed in the work, won the public voice at once; and its author gained a celebrity very flattering to a literary débutant. This may be considered, on the whole, Mrs. Kirkland's best production, without disparaging its succes"The New Home" has originality, wit, propriety of thought, and kindliness of feeling abounding in its pages, and it would scarcely have been possible for its author to excel again in the same line. "Forest Life," in two volumes, was the next work of Mrs. Kirkland-it has chapters of equal merit to the New Home," but as a whole, is inferior. The most striking peculiarities of character and landscape had been already sketched with a firm and clear outline, that needed no additional touches; new views of what had been presented with so much life and spirit, seemed but the fatal too much," which the seduction of applause often draws from genius.

In 1842, Mr. and Mrs. Kirkland returned to New York city, where Mr. Kirkland became proprietor of a journal of a religious and literary character, the editing of which was in accordance with his views and tastes. Mrs. Kirkland now engaged in that profession which we think more deserving of honour than mere literary pursuits; she became teacher and guide of a select school for young ladies, whom she received into her own family. She did not, however, abandon her pen; and in 1845, appeared "Western Clearings," a series of stories founded on her reminiscences of life in the West. These had before appeared in "Annuals," written for the occasion and without connexion, and can only be judged separately, as clever of their kind; some are very charming, and some very

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humorous; we would instance "The Schoolmaster's Progress" as among the latter, and "HalfLengths from Life" as an excellent specimen of Mrs. Kirkland's sensible and just mode of thinking, and her happy manner of describing character.

The sudden death of her husband devolving on Mrs. Kirkland the whole care of her children, called forth her energies as an author in a new manner. She became editor of a monthly periodical, published in New York, called The Union Magazine. In 1848, this was transferred to Philadelphia, and is now known as "Sartain's;" she still continues one of its editors.

In 1848, Mrs. Kirkland visited the Old World; she has recorded her impressions in a work, entitled, “Holidays Abroad," a pleasant volume. Besides her natural gifts, Mrs. Kirkland is a woman of highly cultivated mind; and from her extensive opportunities for reading and observation, we may reasonably hope for some work from her pen superior to any she has yet given the public.

From "A New Home," &c.


Of the mingled mass of our country population, a goodly and handsome proportion-goodly as to numbers, and handsome as to cheeks and lips, and thews and sinews-consists of young married people just beginning the world; simple in their habits, moderate in their aspirations, and hoarding a little of old-fashioned romance, unconsciously enough, in the secret nooks of their rustic hearts. These find no fault with their bare loggeries. With a shelter and a handful of furniture, they have enough. If there is the wherewithal to spread a warm supper for "th' old man," when he comes in from work, the young wife forgets the long, solitary, wordless day, and asks no greater happiness than preparing it by the help of such materials and such utensils as would be looked at with utter contempt in a comfortable kitchen; and then the youthful pair sit down and enjoy it together, with a zest that the "orgies parfaites" of the epicure can never awaken. What lack they that this world can bestow? They have youth, and health, and love and hope, occupation and amusement, and when you have added "meat, clothes, and fire," what more has England's fair young queen? These people are contented, of course.


Another large class of emigrants is composed of people of broken fortunes, or who have been unsuccessful in past undertakings. These like or dislike the country on various grounds, as their peculiar condition may vary. Those who are fortunate or industrious, look at their new home with a kindly eye. Those who learn by experience that idlers are no better off in Michigan than elsewhere, can find no term too virulent in which to express their angry disappointment. | The profligate and unprincipled lead stormy and uncomfortable lives anywhere; and Michigan, now at least, begins to regard such characters among her adopted children with a stern and unfriendly eye, so that the few who may have come among

us, hoping for the unwatched and unbridled license which we read of in regions nearer to the setting sun, find themselves marked and shunned, as in the older world.


As women feel sensibly the deficiencies of the "salvage" state, so they are the first to attempt the refining process, the introduction of those important nothings on which so much depends. Small additions to the more delicate or showy part of the household gear are accomplished by the aid of some little extra personal exertion. "Spinning-money" buys a looking-glass, perhaps, or "butter-money" a nice cherry-table. Eglantines and wood-vine, or wild-cucumber, are sought and transplanted to shade the windows. Narrow beds round the house are bright with balsams and sweet-williams, four o'clocks, poppies, and marigolds; and if "th' old man" is good-natured, a little gate takes the place of the great awkward bars before the door. By and by, a few appletrees are set out; sweet-briers grace the dooryard, and lilacs and currant-bushes; all by female effort at least I have never yet happened to see it otherwise, where these improvements have been made at all. They are not all accomplished by her own hand, indeed; but hers is the moving spirit, and if she do her "spiriting gently," and has anything but a Caliban for a minister, she can scarcely fail to throw over the real homeliness of her lot something of the magic of that IDEAL which has been truly sung

Nymph of our soul, and brightener of our being;
She makes the common waters musical -
Binds the rude night winds in a silver thrall,
Bids Hybla's thyme and Tempe's violet dwell
Round the green marge of her moon-haunted cell.


This shadowy power, or power of shadows, is the "arch-vanquisher of time and care" everywhere; but most of all needed in the waveless calm of a strictly woodland life, and there most enjoyed. The lovers of "unwritten poetry" may find it in the daily talk of our rustic neighbours-in their superstitions in the remedies which they propose for every ill of humanity, the ideal makes the charm of their life as it does that of all the world's, peer and poet, woodcutter and serving-maid.

After allowing due weight to the many disadvantages and trials of a new country-life, it would scarce be fair to pass without notice the compensating power of a feeling, inherent, as I believe, in our universal nature, which rejoices in that freedom from the restraints of pride and ceremony which is found only in a new country. To borrow from a brilliant writer of our own, "I think we have an instinct, dulled by civilization, which is like the caged eaglet's, or the antelope's that is reared in the Arab's tent; an instinct of nature that scorns boundary and chain; that yearns to the free desert; that would have the earth like the sky, unappropriated and open; that rejoices in immeasurable liberty of foot and dwellingplace, and springs passionately back to its free

dom, even after years of subduing method and dress; the former lowers her tone-depreciates spirit-breaking confinement!" her to herself, even though the latter may be quite incapable of inspiring her with pride. No man feels quite at ease in a shining new coat; he is conscious of an inequality between his present self and the old friend whom he could have met so warmly yesterday. The friend may not notice the coat or its influence, but the wearer never forgets it. The Spectator, or some one of those cunning old observers, tells of a young lady who carried herself with unusual hauteur, and seemed to feel a new consciousness of power, upon no greater occasion than the wearing of a new pair of elegant garters. This affords an argument both for and against dress. We ought not to wear what makes us proud and creates a secret contempt of others; but neither should we neglect any thing that aids our self-respect and keeps our spirits at the proper pitch. Some parents, from the best motives in the world, do their children serious injury by wilfully denying them such dress as may put them on an outward equality with their young companions, or make them feel equal. It is in vain to be philosophical for other people; we must convince their judgments and bring them over to our way of thinking, before we can obtain true and healthy conformity. We submit with tolerable grace to restraints rendered necessary by circumstances, but those which appear to us capricious or arbitrary do not often make us better, especially where they touch our pride-that tissue of irritable nerves in which our moral being is enwrapt.

This "instinct," so beautifully noticed by Willis, is what I would point to as the compensating power of the wilderness. Those who are "to the manor born," feel this most sensibly, and pity, with all their simple hearts, the walled-up denizens of the city. And the transplanted ones those who have been used to no forests but "forests of chimneys" — though "the parted bosom clings to wonted home," soon learn to think nature no step-mother, and to discover many redeeming points even in the half-wild state at first so uncongenial.

That this love of unbounded and unceremonious liberty is a natural and universal feeling, needs no argument to show; I am only applying it on a small scale to the novel condition in which I find myself in the woods of Michigan. I ascribe much of the placid contentment, which seems the heritage of rural life, to the constant familiarity with woods and waters

All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
And all that echoes to the song of even;

All that the mountain's sheltering bosom yields,
And all the dread magnificence of heaven -

to the harmony which the Creator has instituted between the animate and inanimate works of His hands.


One evening I hope that beginning prepares the reader for something highly interesting-one evening the question to be debated was the equally novel and striking one which regards the comparative mental capacity of the sexes; and as it was expected that some of the best speakers on both sides would be drawn out by the interesting nature of the subject, every body was anxious to attend.

The debate was interesting to absolute breathlessness, both of speakers and hearers, and was gallantly decided in favour of the fair by a youthful member who occupied the barrel as president for the evening. He gave it as his decided opinion, that if the natural and social disadvantages under which woman laboured and must ever continue to labour, could be removed; if their education could be entirely different, and their position in society the reverse of what it is at present, they would be very nearly, if not quite equal to the nobler sex, in all but strength of mind, in which very useful quality it was his opinion that man would still have the advantage, especially in those communities whose energies were developed by the aid of debating societies.

From "Sartain's Magazine."


There is, no doubt, a reflex influence in dress. One of the best ways of inspiring the degraded with self-respect is to supply them with decent and suitable clothing. We are wholly unable, at any stage of cultivation, to withstand this influNo lady is the same in a careless and untasteful morning envelop, and an elegant evening




When we are used to the feeling which accompanies rich and recherché costume, a lower style seems to us mean and unworthy, especially on ourselves it is well if the influence go no further. What pitiable instances we see of a depression that has no better source than the lack of means to dress expensively, after the habit had been formed; what a craven spirit is that which has nothing better to sustain it than the consciousness of elegant clothing! Poor human nature!


Every one must have noticed the effect of dress upon the character and condition of servants. Those who have grown up in houses where slatternly personal habits are allowed, never become really respectable, even although they may have many good qualities. They do not respect themselves, and their sympathy with their employers is blunted by the great difference in outward appearance. It is true that domestics sometimes act so earnestly upon this principle, that they end in erring on the side of too much attention to costume. We remember once, and once only, finding at a foreign hotel a chambermaid dressed in silk, with artificial roses in her hair; the feeling that she would not be of much use to us flashing across the mind at once. English servants hit the happy medium oftener than any other; their tidiness suggests alacrity, and we have a comfortable assurance of being well served, as soon as we look upon them. It is odd what a difference one feels

in offering a gratuity to a well or ill-dressed attendant in travelling. Shabbiness favours our penuriousness, most remarkably! The eye scans the expectant instinctively, and instead of the generous impulse to give most liberally to those who need, we graduate our donation by the probable expectation of one who has evidently not found the world very generous. If the servant be well enough dressed to bespeak independence, and especially if he be gifted with the modest assurance which is often both cause and consequence of good fortune, pride whispers us at once not to disgust so genteel a person by a shabby gift, and we bestow on success what we should grudge to necessity.


Women generally have an intense dislike to the picturesque style in female dress, and they are not at all apt to think favourably of the stray sheep who adopt it. Some "ill-advis'd" persons fancy that ladies dress for the eyes of gentlemen, but this opinion shows little knowledge of the sex. Gentlemen dress for ladies, but ladies for each other. The anxiety that is felt about the peculiarities of fashion, the chase after novelty, the thirst for expense, all refer to women's judgment and admiration, for of these particulars men know nothing. Here we touch upon the point in question. Women who depart from fashion in search of the picturesque are suspected of a special desire to be charming to the other sex, a fault naturally unpardonable, for ought we not all to start fair? Has any individual a right to be weaving private nets, and using unauthorized charms? A lady who values her character, had better not pretend to be independent of the fashion. The extra admiration of a few of her more poetical beaux will not compensate for the angry sarcasms she must expect from her own sex. This is a matter in which we find it hard to be merciful, or even candid.

Shall the becoming, then, be sacrificed to the caprices of fashion, which consults neither complexion, shape, nor air, but considers the female sex only as a sort of dough, which is to be moulded at pleasure, and squeezed into all possible forms, at the waving of a wand? We do not go so far. There are rules of taste, — standards of grace and beauty, - boundaries of modesty and propriety, restraints of Christian benevolence. Saving and excepting the claims of these, we say follow the fashion enough to avoid singularity, and do not set up to be an inventor in costume.




Is now a resident of Boston, Massachusetts, of which state she is a native. Her birth-place was Newburyport, where her father was an eminent physician. Mrs. Lee has for many years been a widow, and so situated as not to be influenced by pecuniary motives in devoting a part of her time

to literature. She wrote from a full heart, sympathizing with those who suffered from lack of knowledge respecting the causes of their troubles. Her "Three Experiments of Living," published about 1838, was written during a season of commercial distress, when every one was complaining of "hard times." She embodied in this tale the thoughts suggested by scenes around her, without any idea of publication. The friends who read her manuscript insisted on its being printed, and one of them, the late John Pickering, Esq., well known in the literary and scientific world, gave the manuscript to the printer, and saw to its execution. The unparalleled success of this work justified his opinion. Edition after edition was called for, (about thirty have been issued in America,) and we may say, that in no country has a work, teaching the morals of domestic life, met with such success. It circulated widely from the English press, and was advertised in large letters in the bookstores at Dresden. The name of the author was for a long time unknown, as Mrs. Lee had never prefixed it to any publication.

Her next work was the "Old Painters," written with the earnest desire of benefiting youth by mingling instruction with amusement. Her succeeding works, "Luther and his Times," "Cranmer and his Times," and the "Huguenots in France and America," were written from the same motive. Mrs. Lee's first publication was entitled "Grace Seymour," a novel. Nearly the whole edition of this work was burnt in the great fire at New York, before many of the volumes had been bound and issued. She has never reprinted it, though some of her friends think it one of her best writings. Another little book, "Rosanna, or Scenes in Boston," was written by particular desire, to increase the funds of a charity school. As her name has not been prefixed to any of her books, it is impossible to enumerate all which have proceeded from her pen; we may, however, mention a volume of tales, and also several small tracts. One of these, "Rich Enough," was written to illustrate the insane desire of accumulating wealth which at that time prevailed. The "Contrast, or Different Modes of Education," "The World before You, or the Log-Cabin," are titles of two of her other little books. In 1849, she published a small volume of "Stories from Life for the Young." Her first known publication was the appendix to Miss Hannah Adams' memoir of herself, edited by Dr. Joseph Tuckerman. Nearly all Mrs. Lee's works have been republished in England.

In contrasting the genius of the sexes, we should always estimate the moral effect of mental power; the genius which causes or creates the greatest amount of good to humanity should take the highest rank. The Hon. John Pickering, to whom allusion is made as the friend of Mrs. Lee, was a profound scholar, an eminent lawyer, a philologist of high attainments; and yet, probably, the greatest benefit his talents conferred on his country, was his aid and encouragement in developing the talents of Mrs. Lee. Her moral influence has had a power for good over domestic life, and on

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