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POETRY.

FOR THE TALISMAN.

TO MRS. * * * * * * *

"Shall I be left abandoned in the dust, When fate relenting lets the flower revive?"

THE INFANT AND THE ROSE.
'Twas a blushing vernal rose,
In its new-blown charms arrayed;
And in the arms of soft repose,
Beneath the flower an infant laid.
I gaz'd on each with wild delight;
For both were lovely to the sight.

I look'd again, and Autumn's blast,
Had strip'd that rose of all its charms;
And death with with'ring power had pas'd,
And clasp'd the babe in icy arms;
Now where the leafless rose-bud sighs,
Low in its grave the infant lies.

How nature's cruel law I cried
Cuts short the hour of beauty's reign!
But nature's cheering voice replied,
They both shall live and bloom again;
The one in spring shall grace the grove,
And one shall smile in courts above.

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INFANCY ASLEEP. The fairest thing that human eyes may view, Now breaths beneath my own,a sleeping child, Smiling amid its thoughts and visions mild; Its face is drest in hope's pervading hue, As the glad morning of the mind dawns through, These wordless lips as yet have only smild On life, nor hath an evil taint defil'd Eyes that are clos'd like flowers-whose tears. are dew

From the heart's inmost heaven. Oh! infantheir

Of nature, in thy fresh and delicate dust
If aught of ill be mingled, 'twere unjust
To deem it thine; for on thy forehead fair
Sit purity and peace; be ours the trust
The age shall find them still unchilled by crime

or care.

MECHANICS' GOLDEN RULE.-A place for every thing-and every thing in its place.

WORCESTER TALISMAN. Published every other Saturday morning, by DORR & HOWLAND, Worcester, (Mass.) at $1 a year, payable in advance.

Agents paying five dollars will be entitled to receive SIX copies.

Letters, intended for THE TALISMAN, must be post paid to insure attention.

GRIFFIN AND MORRILL....PRINTERS.

NO. 26.

THE

Worcester Talisman.

MARCH 21, 1829.

VOL. I.

MISCELLANY.

THE ELECTION---A TALE.

BY MISS MITFORD.

A few years back, a gentleman of the name of Danby came to reside in a small borough town-whether in Wiltshire or Cornwall matters not to our story, although in one of those counties the aforesaid town was probably situ ate, being what is called a close borough, the joint property of two noble families. Mr. Danby was evidently a man of large fortune, and that fortune as evidently acquired in trade-indeed he made no more secret of the latter circumstance than the former. He built himself a large, square, red house, equally ugly and commodious, just without the town; walled in a couple of acres of ground for a kitchen garden; kept a heavy one-horse chaise, a stout pony, and a brace of greyhounds; and having furnished his house solidly and handsomely, and arranged his domestic affairs to his heart's content, began to look about among his neighbors; scraped acquaintance with the lawyer, the apothecary, and the principal tradesmen; subscribed to the reading room and the billiard room; be came a member of the bowling green and the cricket club, and took as lively an interest in the affairs of his new residence, as if he had been born and bred in the borough.

Now this interest, however agreeable to himself, was by no means equally conducive to the quiet and comfort of the place. Mr. Danby was a little, square, dark man, with a cocked up nose, a good humored, but very knowing smile, a pair of keen black eyes, a loud voluble speech, and a prodigious activity both of mind and body. His very look betokened his character, and that character was one not uncommon among the middle ranks of Englishmen. In short besides being, as he often boasted, a downright John Bull, the gentleman was a reformer, zealous and uncompromising as ever attended a dinner, at the Crown and Anchor, or made a harrangue in Palace yard. He read Cobbet; had his own scheme for the redemption of tithes; and a plan, which not understanding, I am sorry! cannot undertake to explain, for clearing off the national debt without loss or injury to any body.

Besides these great matters, which may

rather be termed the theorique than the practique of reform, and which are at least perfectly in offensive. Mr. Danby condescended to smaller and more worrying observances; and was, indeed so strict and jealous a guardian of the purity of the corporation, and the incorruptibility of the vestry, that an alderman could not wag a finger, or a churchwarden stir a foot without being called to account by this vigilent defender of the rights, liberties, and purses of the people. He was, beyond a doubt, the most troublesome man in the parish-and that is a wide word. In the matter of reports and inquiries Mr. Hume was but a type of him. He would mingle economy with a parish Jinner, and talk of retrenchment at the mayor's feast; brought an action, under the turnpike act, against the clerk and treasurer of the commissioners of the road; commenced a suit in chancery with the trustees of the charity school; and finally threatened to open the borough-that is to say, to support any candidate who should offer to oppose the nominees of the two great families, the one whig and the other tory, who now possess the two seats in parliament as quietly as their own hereditary estates; an experiment which recent instances of successful opposition in other places rendered not a little formidable to the noble owners.

What added considerably to the troublesome nature of Mr. l'auby's inquisitions was the general cleverness, ability and information of the individual. He was not a man of classical education, and knew little of books; but with things he was especially conversant. Although very certain that Mr. Danby had been in business, nobody could guess what that business had been. None came amiss to him. He handled the rule and the yard with equal dexterity; astonished the butcher by his insight into the mysteries of fattening and dealing; and the grocer by his familiarity with the sugar and coffee markets; disentangled the perplexities of the confused mass of figures in the parish books with the dexterity of a sworn accountant; and was so great upon points of law, so ready and accurate in quoting reports, cases and precedents, that he would certainly have passed for a retired attorney, but for the zeal and alertness with which, at his own expense, he was apt to rush into lawsuits.

With so remarkable a genius for turmoil, it is not to be doubted that Mr. Danby, in spite of many excellent and sterling qualities, succeeded in drawing upon himself no small degree of odium. The whole corporation were officially his enemies; but his principal opponent, or rather the person whom he considered as his principal opponent, was Mr. Cardonnel, the rector of the parish, who, besides several disputes pending between them (one especially respecting the proper situation of the church organ, the placing of which harmonious instrument kept the whole town in discord for a twelve month) was married to the Lady Elizabeth, sister of the Earl of B., one of the patrons of the borough; and being, as well as his wife, a very popular and amiable character, was justly regarded by Mr. Danby as one of the chief obstacles to his projected reform.

Whilst, however, our reformer was, from the most patriotic motives, doing his best or his worst to dislike Mr Cardonnel, events of a very different nature were gradually operating to bring them together.

Mr. Danby's family consisted of a wife-a quiet, lady-like woman, with very ill health, who did little else than walk from her bed to her sofa, eat water gruel and drink soda-water, and of an only daughter who was in a word, the very apple of her father's eye.

Rose Danby was indeed a daughter of whom any father might have been proud. Of middle height and exquisite symmetry, with a rich, dark glowing complexion, a profusion of glossy, curling, raven hair, large affectionate black eyes, and a countenance at once so sweet and so spirited, that its constant expres sion was like that which a smile gives to other faces. Her temper and understanding were in axact keeping with such a countenanceplayful, gentle, clever and kind; and her acquirements of the very highest order. When her father entered on his new residence she had just completed her fifteenth year; and he unable longer to dispense with the pleasure of her society, took her from the excellent school near London, at which she had hitherto been placed and determined that her education should be finished by masters at home. It so happened, that this little town contained one celebrated artist, a professer of dancing who kept a weekly academy for young ladies, which was attended by half the families of gentility in the county. M. Le Grand (for the dancing master was a little lively Frenchman) was delighted with Rose. He declared that she was his best pupil, his very best, the best that ever he had in his life."Mais voyez, donc Monsieur ?" said he one day to her father, who would have scorned to know the French for How d'ye do:'-' Voyez, comme elle met de l' aplomb, de la forces de la netlate, dans ses entrenchants! Qu'elle est leste, et legere, et petrie de graces la petite !! And Mr. Danby comprehending only that the artist was praising his darling,

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swore that Monsieur was a good fellow,and returned the compliment, after the English tashion, by sending him a haunch of vension the next day.

But M. Le Grand was not the only admirer whom Rose met with at the dancing school. It chanced that Mr. Cardonnel also had an only daughter, a young person, about the same age, bringing up under the eye of her mother, and a constant attendant at the professor's academy. The two girls, nearly of a hight, and both good dancers, were placed together as partners; and being almost equally prepes sessing in person and manner, (for Mary Car donnel was a sweet, delicate, fair creature, whose mild blue eyes seemed appealing to the kindness of every one they looked upon,) took an immediate and lasting fancy to each other; shook hands at meeting and parting, smiled whenever their glances chanced to encounter; and soon began to exchange a few kind and hurried words in the pauses of the dance, and to hold more continuous chat at the conclusion. And Lady Elizabeth, almost as much charmed with Rose as her daughter, seeing in the lovely little girl every thing to like and nothing to disapprove, encouraged and joined in the acquaintance; attended with a motherly care to her cloaking and shawling: took her home in her own carriage when it rained; and finally way-laid Mr. Danby. who always came himself to fetch his darling, and with her bland and gracious smile requested the pleasure of Miss Danby's company to a party of young people, which she was about to give on the occasion of her daughter's birthday. I am afraid that our sturdy reformer was going to say, No!-But Rose's Oh papa!' was irresistible; and to the party she went.

After this, the young people became every day more intimate. Lady Elizbeth waited on Mrs. Danby, and Mrs. Danby returned the call; but her state of health precluded visiting, and her húsband who piqued himself on firmness and consistency, contrived, though with some violence to his natural kindness of temper to evade the friendly advances and in

vitations of the rector.

The two girls, however, saw one another almost every day. It was a friendship like that of Rosalind and Celia, whom, by the way they severally resembled in temper and character-Rose having much of the brilliant galantry of the one fair cousin, and Mary the softer and gentler charm of the ofber. They rode, walked and sung together; were never hap py asunder; played the same music ; read the same books; dressed alike, worked for each other and interchanged their little prop. erty of trinkets and flowers, with a generosity that seemed only emulous which should give most.

At first Mr. Danby was a little jealous of Rose's partiality to the rectory; but she was so fond of him, so attentive to his pleasures, that he could not find in his heart to check hers

and when after a long and dangerous illness

• With Rose!' interrupted Mr. Darby. "Ay- for the gift of her heart and hand,that being, I believe, the suffrage which my good nephew here is most anxious to secure,'rejoined Mr. Cardonnel.

With Rose!' again ejaculated Mr. Danby; Why I thought that your daughter'

with which the always delicate Mary was ef fected, Mr.Cardonnel went to him and with tears streaming down his cheeks, told him he believed that under Providence he owed his daughter's life to Rose's unwearying care. The father's heart was fairly vanquished: he wrung the good rectors hand, and never grumbled at her long visits again. Lady Elizabeth, also, The gipsey has not told you, then!' replied had her share in producing this change of feel- the Rector. Why, William and she have ing; by presenting him in return for innumer-been playing the parts of Romeo and Juliet for able baskets of peaches and melons and hot. these six months past.' house grapes (in the culture of which he was curious,) with a portrait of Rose, drawn by herself a strong and beautiful likeness; a pic-ed father rushed out of the room, and returned ture which he would not have exchanged for the next minute, holding the blushing girl by "The Transfiguration." the arm.

Perhaps too consistent as he thought himself, he was not without an unconscious respect for the birth and station which he affected to despise; and was at least as proud of the admiration which his daughter excited in those privaleged circles, as of the sturdy independence which he exhibited by keeping aloof from them in his own person. Certain it is, that his spirit of reformation insensibly relaxed particularly towards the rector; and that he not only ceded the contested point of the organ but presented a splended set of pulpit hangings to the church itself.

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My Rose again exclaimed Mr. Danby. Why Rose! Rose! I say! and the astonish

Rose do you love this young man?' 'Oh Papa!' said Rose.

Will you marry him?' 'Oh Papa!'

Do you wish me to tell him that you will not marry him?'

To this question Rose returned no answer; she only blushed the deeper, and looked down with a half smile.

Take her then,' resumed Mr. Danby; 'I see the girl loves you. I can't vote for you, though, for I've promised, and you know my good Sir, that an honest man's word-)

Time wore on; Rose had refused half the of- 'I don't want your vote, my dear Sir,' infers of gentility in the town and neighborhood; terrupted Sir William Frampton; ' I don't ask her heart appeared to be invulnerable. Her for your vote, although the loss of it may cost less affluent and less brilliant friend was gen- me my seat, and my uncle his borough. This erally understood (and as Rose, on hearing is the election that I care about; the only the report, did not contradict it the rumor election worth caring about--Is it not my own passed for certainty) to be engaged to a neph-sweet Rose?-the election of which the object ew of her mother's, Sir William Frampton, a young gentleman of splendid fortune, who had lately passed much time at his fine place in the neighborhood.

Time wore on; and Rose was now nineteen when an event occurred, which threatened a grievous interruption to her happiness. The Earl of B's member died; his nephew, Sir William Frampton, supported by his uncle's powerful interest, offered himself for the borough; an independent candidate started at the same time; and Mr Danby found himself compelled by his vaunted consistency, to insist on his daughter's renouncing her visits to the rectory, at least until after the termination of the election. Rose wept and pleaded, pleaded and wept in vain. Her father was obdurate; and she, after writing a most affectionate note to Mary Cardonnel, retired to her own room in very bad spirits, and perhaps, for the first time in her life, in very bad humor. About half an hour afterwards, Sir William Frampton and Mr. Cardonnel called at the red house.

lasts for life, and the result is happiness. That's the election worth caring about-Is it not, my own Rose ?

And Rose blushed an affirmative, and Mr. Danby shook his intended son-in law's hand, until he almost wrung it off, repeating at every moment I can't vote for you, for a man must be consistent ;- but you're the best fellow in the world, and you shall have my Rose. And Rose will be a great lady,' continued the delighted father; my little Rose will be a great lady after all !'

FEMALE EDUCATION. We say that the prevailing system of Female Education does not preserve a just balance amongst the various faculties of the minds: some of them are highly cultivated and others comparatively neglected. In saying this we do not mean to censure any one, and least of all the directors of our Female Seminaries. It is an evil arising from the general condition of society, and not from the practice of any individual or class of individuals: and is only to be remedied by a gradual change of public Nay, nay, my good friend,' returned the sentiment and practice. We know that the reformer- you know that my interest prom- preceptresses of the two excellent female semised, and that I cannot with any consistency-inaries in this city are not only desirous to corTe solicit your interest with Rose,'--re- rect this error when the community shall re

We are come Mr. Danby,' said the rector, to solicit your interest

sumed his reverence.

quire it, but rejoice in leading the public

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mind, which is now rapidly advancing in the right way.

them without any attention to the subsequent task of putting them together in due order and proportion? What would be the benefit of all his labour and expense? His materials might not be entirely useless-his hewn cedar might yield him fire, and his marble columns afford him steps, but they could never become a temple.

The principal defect to which we allude, is, that too little are bestowed in cultivating habits of patient thought and philosophical observation. The taste, imagination and memory are allowed undue preponderance over the understanding. This is in part the unavoidable result of finishing their education at This practice of completing an education at so early an age. The mere deficiency in extent so early a period, is unfavourable to the imof acquirements, and thorough in intellectual provement of the understanding in another discipline, unavoidable to those who leave way. Although a young lady devotes but one their studies at sixteen or seventeen, is deeply || third of the years to study which a gentleman to be regretted. Twenty-five may be estima- does, she must become acquainted with an eted as the medium age at which gentlemen of qual number of the arts and sciences. Beeducation enter upon their professions. Pre- tween the ages of ten and sixteen, females are vious to this, they are considered tyroes, and to acquire a knowledge of natural and moral if they are to hold a respectable rank as men philosophy, the philosophy of the mindof talents, they must pursue through life, la- and logic, history, rhetoric, chemistry, asbours and studies which constitute severe men- tronomy, the French language, music, with tal discipline. Take two young men and ed- parts of the mathematics, and perhaps danucate them together until they are sixteen, cing, drawing and painting. The consequence then let one lay aside his books and go into is, they can have but a superficial knowledge some employment, altogether foreign from lit- of each. They must study abridgments of the erature, (except it be to read a novel, and at- sciences, and thus forego the improvment tend the theatre occasionally) send the other which the understanding might receive from to college, let him study a profession, and be pursuing any of them thoroughly. conversant with men of elevated minds, or let By all these means, the memory is cultivahim become acquainted with the world in ted to the neglect of habits of reasoning and mercantile or political life, then contrast them, reflection. We know indeed that there are and we shall better understand the disadvanmany happy exceptions. Vigorous understantages to which females are subject in their ed-dings will frequently break through all oppoucation. It is not the loss of eight years only, at the very time when the mind is the most capable of making valuable acquirements, and the most susceptible of cultivation which con stitutes the disadvantage, but the study and acquirements which their time allows, do not produce lue effect, and the equal balance of their faculties, is destroyed. If a young lady leaves her studies at sixteen, she cannot properly cultivate those powers which mature much later. Memory alone possesses full vigor at that period, and most of the pupil's previous study must have consisted in calling it into exercise, and storing it with facts. If she afterwards acquire habits of patient thought and deep reflection, these facts become materials on which the mental powers are profitably exercised--but without such habits, although they may be of some value as acquired knowledge, yet,for all purposes of mental discipline, they are the dead letter of memory, mere in-materially interrupting their studies, and why tellectual rubbish. She may pursue those studies whose professed tendency is to give strength and acuteness to the understanding, but still the memory is chiefly exercised. Nature is not to be anticipated. We may plant and water,but the blossoms of Spring can never be the fruits of Autumn. Why then should females drop their studies just at the time when they may commence establishing those || mental habits which will increase the value of all their previous acquirements an hundred fold? What should we think of him, who, with the intention of erecting a temple, should collect materials in sufficient variety and leave

sing obstacles, and exercise their just supremacy over the other powers of the mind; and many ladies, by a judicious course of private studies, make amends for the deficiency of public instruction, but the prevailing system of female education is chargeable with these evils. How then are they to be remedied? Only by a longer course of mental discipline. As they arise principally from leaving study at so early an age, they are to be removed by pursuing it to a later period. Justice is not done to the female intellect, and never will be, so long as they are directed to leave the improvement of their minds at seventeen. The obstacles to continuing their education to a later period, are rather imaginary than real.— Why should study be thought perfectly incompatible with the intercourse of young ladies in society? Young men can cultivate an acquaintance with the circle around them, without

may not young ladies? The parent doubtless acts wisely, in keeping a daughter from society before she is seventeen, but not in keeping her from study afterwards.-N. E. Review.

UNCLE OLIVER.

"When I was about twenty," said my Uncle Oliver, as he leaned back in the old patriarchal armed-chair, and raised his spectacles carelessly over his forehead, "I felt (as is customary for lads of that age to feel) that it was high time to be looking out for a wife. I accordingly paid particular attentions, and

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