MUTUAL HEARTS.

MUSIC COMPOSED FOR THIS WORK BY L. MARSHALL.

Allegro Moderato.

Treble.

1. Two mutual hearts are like the rills, In sol-i- tude when sin-gle, Alto.

b b A

Bass.

1. Two mutual hearts are like the rills, In sol -i- tude when sin-gle, Tenor.

THE above engraving represents a piece of statuary by the celebrated Francis Chantrey. He was the son of a widow, and destined for a lawyer, but was so desirous to become a sculptor, that while a mere school-boy, he made models in clay. He first displayed the principles of his free, natural style, in a bust of the celebrated Horne Tooke. The city of London next instructed him to execute a statue of George III. He then produced a statue of a lively girl, the daughter of a duke, standing on tiptoe, and caressing a dove in her bosom, for the Abbey at Woburn, and also a kneeling female, Lady St. Vincent. His busts of Walter Scott, Benjamin West, and Wordsworth, are highly esteemed productions. His reputation as an artist was greatly increased by this group of two sisters in the cathedral of Litchfield, embracing each other in the gentle slumber of death, whose childish forms exhibit tranquil repose in every outline and in every member. The design of the sleeping child in Mount Auburn Cemetery may have been suggested by this. One of the last works of Chantrey is the statue of Washington in the State House at Boston.

THE TWO FAMILIES UPON THE TWO HILLS.

BY MRS. M. H. MAXWELL.

"The other child, that held the parent hand,

With eye undimmed by shadows or by tears,
(Her gentle name is Love,) doth smiling stand,

With glowing heart, which hath no place for fears;
But peace upon her open brow doth shine,

And joy is pencilled on her aspect bright:

Whoever to her presence may incline,

Will find their sorrows vanish at the sight;

She doth but speak a word, and fills them with delight."

On a green sloping hill, with a flower-garden in front, and an almost interminable field of corn in the rear, sat cozily among the clover a farm-house, long known as belonging to the "Darling family." At the time of which we write, the proprietor of this house and farm was known, in the towns adjoining Orland, by the name of "Mr. Solomon Darling." By his own town's people he was called "Uncle Saul; " Mrs. Darling was called "Aunt Debby;" and the children by their various nicknames, such as Solly, Lizzy, Abby, Willie, &c. ; names, as the reader will perceive, which could not be given either in anger or with malice aforethought, — names which were in unison with the gentle spirit of home and kindred, the easy spirit of patient well-doing and kindly fellowship always pervading the old farm-house, which, in summer time, sat cozily among the clover.

In this part of the town, (as in the place where the armies of Israel and Philistia were drawn up in battle array, army against army,) were two hills, and a valley between them. On the hill opposite the one whereon lived the Darling family was another house, owned and occupied by Mr. Zebulon Flint. In front of this house, also, was a flower-garden, and fields of corn, grass, and grain in the rear. Upon this garden and upon these fields came the gentle dew, the genial sunlight, and the early and the latter rain. Who then could tell why the blessed warmth and hearty good cheer distilling from even the old well-curb at Uncle Saul's, were wanting at Mr. Flint's? Answer me in all sincerity, honest reader. Are

you a keen observer? No, would you become one? Then go into the country and take a district school, and board around. If at the end of three months your head does not ache with its overgrown perception, your eyes turn blacker, and your face grow sharp and hatchet-like, then give it up. You will never become a keen observer. Such were my

humble convictions with regard to myself, when, after a week's sojourn at Mr. Flint's, I was still perplexed with the following queries: "What is the matter here? Are they not very polite to me, attentive to my tastes, and to my comfort in every respect? O, very; and yet I am not comfortable, neither are they. They are continually running against sharp corners in their household arrangements, in their family discipline, and even in their family devotions. Unskilful mariners upon life's sea, spreading all sail to catch the prosperous breeze, yet setting no watch for the hidden rock or the lee shore. Yet I had not discovered the secret principle working out this cold improvidence, this toil without rest, this stinted meting out of hearts' love where there should be a fountain, a rill, yea, a river, like that which makes glad the city of our God.

My next boarding place was at Uncle Saul's; and, once within the broad circle of their lovelight, I felt as did Noah's dove when from the waste of waters she folded her weary wing within the ark. I plied Aunt Debby with my queries relative to the Flints, and in her gentle, extenuating way, she replied, "they are in a hurry, my dear."

"But," said I, "you have as large a farm as they, keep as many cows and sheep, and have as many children. Why are not you in a hurry?"

"Because," answered Aunt Debby, smiling, "we can't be in a bustle about our work, without neglecting our duties toward each other. We must do and say the little agreeable things which make home pleasant, or there is not much use in having a home, you know. Our hearts' comfort must be looked after. Solomon and I have always thought alike in this respect. When we were first married, he said to me,