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Thou art plucking spring-roses, Genie,
And a little red-rose art thou;
Thou hast unfolded to-day, Genie,
Another bright leaf, I trow;
But the roses will live and die, Genie,
Many and many a time,

Ere thou hast unfolded quite, Genie -
Grown into maiden prime.

Thou art looking now at the birds, Genie,
But oh, do not wish their wing,
That would only tempt the fowler, Genie,
Stay thou on earth and sing;
Stay in the nursing-nest, Genie,
Be not soon thence beguiled,

Thou wilt ne'er find a second, Genie;
Never be twice a child.

Thou art building towers of pebbles, Genie-
Pile them up brave and high;

And leave them to follow a bee, Genie,
As he wandereth singing by;

But if thy towers fall down, Genie,
And if the brown bee is lost,

Never weep-for thou must learn, Genie,
That soon life's schemes are crossed.

Thy hand is in a bright boy's, Genie,
He calls thee his sweet wee wife;
But let not thy little heart think, Genie,
Childhood the prophet of life:

It may be life's minstrel, Genie,

And sing sweet songs and clear; But minstrel and prophet now, Genie, Are not united here.

What will thy future fate be, Genie?
Alas! shall I live to see!

For thou art scarce a sapling, Genie,
And I am a moss-grown tree!
I am shedding life's leaves fast, Genie,
Thou art in blossom sweet;
But think betimes of the grave, Genie,
Where young and old oft meet.


She's on my heart, she 's in my thoughts,
At midnight, morn and noon;
December's snow beholds her there,
And there the rose of June.

I never breathe her lovely name
When wine and mirth go round;
But oh, the gentle moonlight air
Knows well the silver sound.

I care not if a thousand hear
When other maids I praise;

I would not have my brother by,
When I upon her gaze.

The dews were from the lily gone,
The gold has lost its shine,
If any but my love herself
Could hear me call her mine.


I asked the stars, in the pomp of night, Gilding its blackness with crowns of light, Bright with beauty, and girt with power, Whether eternity were not their dower; And dirge-like music stole from their spheres, Bearing this message to mortal ears:


"We have no light that hath not been given;
We have no strength but shall soon be riven;
We have no power wherein man may trust;
Like him are we things of time and dust;
And the legend we blazon with beam and ray,
And the song of our silence, is-Passing away
"We shall fade in our beauty, the fair and bright,
Like lamps that have served for a festal night;
We shall fall from our spheres, the old and strong,
Like rose-leaves swept by the breeze along;
The worshipped as gods in the olden day,
We shall be like a vain dream-Passing away.'"
From the stars of heaven, and the flowers of earth,
From the pageant of power, and the voice of mirth,
From the mists of morn on the mountain's brow,
From childhood's song, and affection's vow.-
From all, save that o'er which soul bears sway,
Breathes but one record-" Passing away."

"Passing away," sing the breeze and rill,
As they sweep in their course by vale and hill;
Through the varying scenes of each earthly clime,
'Tis the lesson of nature, the voice of time;
And man at last, like his fathers grey,
Writes in his own dust-"Passing away."


WAS daughter of Thomas, earl of Lincoln. She married Mr. Isaac Johnson, who left his native land for New England, from religious motives. Lady Arabella cheerfully accompanied him, and they arrived at Salem, Massachusetts, in April, 1630. Her exalted character and gentleness gained her universal esteem; but she died the September after her arrival. Mr. Johnson survived her little more than a month. He is regarded as the founder of Boston; and though his time was brief, yet the good work he accomplished will never be forgotten But dearer still by the people of New England.

is the memory of the Lady Arabella, whose example as a wife and a Christian is an ever-beaming light to her sex.


CELEBRATED as the Stella of Dean Swift, was born in 1684. Her father was the steward of Sir William Temple, who, at his death, left the daughter £1000, in consideration of her father's faithful services. At the death of Sir William, she was in her sixteenth year; and about two years afterwards, at Swift's invitation, she left England, accompanied by Mrs. Dingley, a lady fifteen years older, and whose whole fortune, though she was related to Sir William, was only an annuity of £27. Whether Swift desired the company of Miss Johnson as a friend, or intended to make her his wife, is uncertain; but they took every precaution to prevent scandal. When Swift was absent, Miss Johnson and her friend resided at the parsonage, but when he returned, they removed; nor were they ever known to meet but in the presence of a third person. During his visits to London, he wrote, every day, an account of what had occurred, to Stella, and always placed the greatest confidence in her.

In 1713, Swift, it is believed, was married to her, by Dr. Ashe, bishop of Clogher; but they continued to live in separate houses, and the marThis riage was never publicly acknowledged. state of affairs is supposed to have preyed upon

Stella's health so as to cause a decline. Dean Swift offered, when she was on her death-bed, to acknowledge her as his wife; but she replied, "It is too late!" She died in 1728, aged forty-three. She was a beautiful and intellectual woman. The whole story is more romantic than any romance of fiction; nor have the mysteries ever been satisfactorily explained.


WAS the daughter of Captain Bland, of a most respectable family in Ireland. Her father eloped with her mother, and they both went on the stage. Dorothea commenced her career as an actress in Dublin, but soon quitted that for Tate Wilkinson's York company. She then attracted the attention of the London managers, and was for a long time a great favourite on the English stage. Her forte was comedy. She was at one time the mistress of the duke of Clarence, afterwards William IV., by whom she had several children. She died at St. Cloud, in France, in 1816, and was indebted to the kindness of a casual English traveller for a decent interment.



EMPRESS of the French, queen of Italy, was born in Martinique, June 24th, 1763. At a very early age she came to Paris, and was married to the Viscount Beauharnais. By this marriage, which is represented as not having been a happy one, the marquis being attached to another at the time of his union with his wealthy bride-she became the mother of two children, Eugene and Hortense, afterwards so well known. In 1787 Madame Beauharnais returned to Martinique, to nurse her aged mother, but was soon driven away by the disturbances in that colony. During her absence the French Revolution had broken out, and on her return she found her husband actively engaged in public affairs. Although one of the first actors in the movement which was to regenerate France, Beauharnais fell a victim to the bloodthirsty fanaticism of the times. Cited before the bar of the Convention, he was condemned to death,

and publicly beheaded on the 23d July, 1794. Josephine was imprisoned, where she remained until the death of Robespierre threw open the doors of the prisons.

Josephine is said to have preserved her serenity during her imprisonment, through her strong faith in a prediction which had been made her; an old negress in Martinique having foretold, under circumstances of a peculiarly imposing character, that she would one day become queen of France. However reasonably we may doubt the influence of such a circumstance on the mind of a woman condemned to death in such relentless times as these, there is no question of its being a subject often dwelt upon by Josephine when she actually sat upon the throne of France. The prophecies that come to pass, are always remembered! Through her fellow-prisoner, Madame Tallien, Josephine became, after the establishment of the Directory, an influential member of the circle of Barras. According to some writers, she there made the acquaintance of General Bonaparte. The most general belief is, however, that the acquaintance was formed through her son Eugene, in the following manner: "The day after the 13th of Vendemiaire, the disarming of the citizens having been decreed, a boy of fifteen called upon General Bonaparte, then cómmandant of Paris, and with ingenuous boldness demanded the sword of his father. The general was struck with the boy's deportment; he made particular inquiries about him, and sought an acquaintance with his mother." Bonaparte soon became passionately attached to Madame Beauharnais, and married her on the 17th of February, 1796; and his affection for her continued through life. She possessed considerable influence over him, and his letters to her are proofs of his warm attachment, as well as of her amiability. She was always accessible and benevolent to those who sought for mercy or protection from Napoleon. She followed the young hero to Italy, and was with him during that brilliant period when he laid the foundation of his military reputation. When Bonaparte set out on his expedition to Egypt, Josephine took up her residence at Malmaison. Much has been said of her conduct during this period. Whether the censure was fully merited or not, has never been known; that Napoleon, on his return, contemplated a separation, is well ascertained. A reconciliation was effected by her children, whom he tenderly loved, and Josephine was again restored to the affection and confidence of her husband. When Napoleon was elevated to the consulate, Josephine constantly exercised her benevolence in favour of the unfortunate. She was particularly kind to the emigrants, many of whom she restored to their country. Napoleon, in one of his letters to her, said, "If I gain battles, it is you who win hearts."

Josephine loved pomp and show; her extrava gance and wasteful expenditure frequently calling down the severest censure from her more justminded husband. When Napoleon became emperor a divorce was proposed to him, but he rejected it. Josephine was consecrated empress of France


Napoleon's ardent attachment to her admits of no such doubt; his actions, as well as his letters to her, prove it; particularly those written in the early part of their married life, when he frequeutly complains of her coldness. The prudence of her conduct while Napoleon was absent in Egypt, may reasonably be doubted. If so, we may ask, how far the woman who was chosen by such a man as the sharer of his name and fortunes was worthy of her destiny? Her extravagance, even while seated upon a throne, we have seen, was considered reprehensible by her husband. Napoleon had not an exalted opinion of women; how much this might be owing to the example of the woman whom he knew best, the reader must decide. If Josephine had been as eminent for high womanly virtues, as he was for exalted genius; if she had been in truth Napoleon's "star," her fate might have been a different one.

by pope Pius VII., December 2d, 1804, and the | Josephine, in their hatred of Napoleon always crown which his genius had won for her was placed depict her in the most glowing colours. To exalt by Napoleon upon her brow. Soon after, at Mi- Napoleon's repudiated wife, is to censure him. lan, she was crowned queen of Italy. Josephine We, who are less liable to prejudice, may be able acquitted herself in her exalted position with a to estimate her character more impartially, and grace and dignity which won all hearts; to many, may fairly inquire how much of the devotion for it was a matter of surprise how she had acquired which she has been so highly praised, belonged to this "royal bearing." Eugene and Hortense, her the man, how much to his station. children, shared her elevation; Napoleon never neglected their interest, nor that of any members of Josephine's family. As Napoleon's power increased, and his family became to all appearances more and more firmly established upon the throne of France, his desire for offspring to continue his line increased; and after much deliberation, and many painful scenes, a divorce was determined upon. Josephine bore it with a fortitude which her good sense alone enabled her to exert. To have opposed the will of Napoleon would have availed her nothing, and it was every thing to her to continue to possess his esteem. The world, too, would sympathize with a wife who, under such painful circumstances, yielded with dignity to her fall; her impotent resistance would only excite its contempt or sneers. Josephine retired to Malmaison, at the age of forty-six, with the title of empress-dowager, and two millions of francs a year. Napoleon visited her occasionally, and always gave proofs of his esteem and regard for her. While at St. Helena, he paid the highest tribute to her virtues and amiability. On the birth of the king of Rome, in 1811, Josephine is said to have exhibited the most unfeigned satisfaction. If such was really the case, her magnanimity was of the highest order; for that event, which must have confirmed Napoleon's sense of the expediency of the divorce, also rendered his wife more dear to him, and Josephine's situation more glaringly humiliating.


In 1814, Josephine beheld the downfall of that throne which she had once shared. When Napoleon retired to Elba, she wrote to him, signifying her wish, if permitted, to follow him in his reverses. When the allies entered Paris, she was treated with the most distinguished consideration. The king of Prussia and the emperor of Russia visited her at Malmaison, and showed her flattering attentions. On the 19th of May, the emperor Alexander and the king of Prussia dined with her. She was extremely indisposed, and, in opposition to her physician's wishes, did the honours to her royal guests. The next day she became much worse; her disease, a species of quinsy, increasing rapidly. On the 29th of May, 1814, she expired, in the full possession of her faculties. Her children were with her, and, by their affectionate attentions, soothed her last moments. Her body was interred in the church of Ruel, where, seven years after, her children were permitted to erect a monuent to her.

Josephine was handsome; her figure was majestic and elegant; but her greatest charms were her grace and goodness of heart. She has been called Napoleon's "star." His fortunes, it is said, arose with her, and waned when their connexion ceased The English, when they paint the empress


WAS born in 1789, in Bradford, Massachusetts. She was carefully educated, and became early distinguished for her deep and earnest religious character. In February, 1812, she married Adoniram Judson; and in the same month sailed for Calcutta, her husband being appointed missionary to India. Soon after they reached Calcutta, they were ordered by the East India Company, who were opposed to all missionary labour among the natives, to quit the country. While waiting for an opportunity of leaving, Mr. and Mrs. Judson employed their time in investigating the subject of baptism; and being convinced that their previous opinions had been erroneous, they joined the Baptist Church at Calcutta. In July, 1813, Mr. and Mrs. Judson arrived at Rangoon, in Burmah, where for many years they laboured success

fully and diligently in the cause of religion. In 1821, in consequence of protracted ill health, Mrs. Judson returned alone to America, where she remained till 1823, when she rejoined her husband in Rangoon. Difficulties arising between the government of Bengal and the Burman empire, and the taking of Rangoon by the British in 1824, caused the imprisonment of Mr. Judson and several other foreigners, who were at Ava, the capital of the Burman empire. For two years, the inexpressible sufferings endured by these prisoners, were alleviated by the constant care and exertions of Mrs. Judson; and it was owing in a great measure to her efforts that they were at last released.

In 1826, the missionary establishment was removed from Rangoon to Amherst; and in October, of that year Mrs. Judson died of a fever during her husband's absence. The physician attributed the fatal termination of the disease to the injury her constitution had received from her long-protracted sufferings and severe privations at Ava. In about six months after her death, her only child, an infant daughter, was laid by her side. That some correct idea may be formed by those who have not read the memoir of Mrs. Judson, of the exertions and sufferings of this angelic woman, whose mission was to wear out her precious life for the preservation of others and the advancement of her Saviour's cause, we will give one extract from her "Narrative" of the imprisonment of Mr. Judson, written in form of a letter to her brother-in-law.


"The next morning I arose and endeavoured to find something like food. But there was no market, and nothing to be procured. One of Dr. Price's friends, however, brought some cold rice and vegetable curry, from Amarapora, which, together with a cup of tea from Mr. Lansago, answered for the breakfast of the prisoners; and for dinner, we made a curry of dried salt fish, which a servant of Mr. Gouger had brought. All the money I could command in the world, I had brought with me, secreted about my person; so you may judge what our prospects were, in case the war should continue long. But our Heavenly Father was better to us than our fears; for notwithstanding the constant extortions of the jailers, during the whole six months we were at Oung-pen-la, and the frequent straits to which we were brought, we never really suffered for the want of money, though frequently for want of provisions, which were not procurable. Here at this place my personal bodily sufferings commenced. While your brother was confined in the city prison, I had been allowed to remain in our house, in which I had many conveniences left, and my health had continued good beyond all expectations. But now I had not a single article of convenience-not even a chair or seat of any kind, excepting a bamboo floor. The very morning after my arrival, Mary Hasseltine was taken with the small-pox, the natural way. She, though very young, was the only assistant I had in taking care of little Maria. But she now required all the time I could spare from

| Mr. Judson, whose fever still continued in prison, and whose feet were so dreadfully mangled, that for several days he was unable to move. I knew not what to do, for I could procure no assistance from the neighbourhood, or medicine for the sufferers, but was all day long going backwards and forwards from the house to the prison with little Maria in my arms. Sometimes I was greatly relieved by leaving her, for an hour, when asleep, by the side of her father, while I returned to the house to look after Mary, whose fever ran so high as to produce delirium. She was so completely covered with the small-pox, that there was no distinction in the pustules. As she was in the same little room with myself, I knew Maria would take it; I therefore inoculated her from another child, before Mary's had arrived at such a state as to be infectious. At the same time, I inoculated Abby, and the jailer's children, who all had it so lightly as hardly to interrupt their play. But the inoculation in the arm of my poor little Maria did not takeshe caught it of Mary, and had it the natural way. She was then only three months and a half old, and had been a most healthy child; but it was above three months before she perfectly recovered from the effects of this dreadful disorder.

"You will recollect I never had the small-pox, but was vaccinated previously to leaving America. In consequence of being for so long a time constantly exposed, I had nearly a hundred pustules formed, though no previous symptoms of fever, &c. The jailer's children having had the smallpox so lightly, in consequence of inoculation, my fame was spread all over the village, and every child, young and old, who had not previously had it, was brought for inoculation. And although I knew nothing about the disorder, or the mode of treating it, I inoculated them all with a needle, and told them to take care of their diet,—all the instructions I could give them. Mr. Judson's health was gradually restored, and he found himself much more comfortably situated, than when in the city prison.

"The prisoners were at first chained two and two; but as soon as the jailers could obtain chains sufficient, they were separated, and each prisoner had but one pair. The prison was repaired, a new fence made, and a large airy shed erected in front of the prison, where the prisoners were allowed to remain during the day, though locked up in the little close prison at night. All the children recovered from the small-pox; but my watchings and fatigue, together with my miserable food, and more miserable lodgings, brought on one of the diseases of the country, which is almost always fatal to foreigners. My constitution seemed destroyed, and in a few days I became so weak as to be hardly able to walk to Mr. Judson's prison. In this debilitated state, I set off in a cart for Ava, to procure medicines, and some suitable food, leaving the cook to supply my place. I reached the house in safety, and for two or three days the disorder seemed at a stand; after which it attacked me so violently, that I had no hopes of recovery left-and my only anxiety now was, to return to Oung-pen-la to die near the prison. It was with the greatest difficulty

that I obtained the medicine-chest from the Go- | Mrs. Boardman shared with her beloved husband, vernor, and then had no one to administer medicine. I however got at the laudanum, and by taking two drops at a time for several hours, it so far checked the disorder, as to enable me to get on board a boat, though so weak that I could not stand, and again set off for Oung-pen-la."

To show the estimate in which the services and talents of Mrs. Judson were held by the British residents of India, we will give the statement made by one of the English prisoners confined at Ava with Mr. Judson. It was published in a Calcutta paper.

"Mrs. Judson was the author of those eloquent and forcible appeals to the government, which prepared them by degrees for submission to terms of peace, never expected by any, who knew the hauteur and inflexible pride of the Burman court. "And while on this subject, the overflowings of grateful feeings, on behalf of myself and fellowprisoners, compel me to add a tribute of public thanks to that amiable and humane female, who, though living at a distance of two miles from our prison, without any means of conveyance, and very feeble in health, forgot her own comfort and infirmity, and almost every day visited us, sought out and administered to our wants, and contributed in every way to alleviate our misery.

"While we were all left by the government destitute of food, she, with unwearied perseverance, by some means or other, obtained for us a constant supply.

"When the tattered state of our clothes evinced the extremity of our distress, she was ever ready to replenish our scanty wardrobe.

"When the unfeeling avarice of our keepers confined us inside, or made our feet fast in the stocks, she, like a ministering angel, never ceased her applications to the government, until she was authorized to communicate to us the grateful news of our enlargement, or of a respite from our galling oppressions.

"Besides all this, it was unquestionably owing, in a chief degree, to the repeated eloquence, and forcible appeals of Mrs. Judson, that the untutored Burman was finally made willing to secure the welfare and happiness of his country, by a sincere peace."

Mrs. Ann H. Judson was the first American woman who resolved to leave her friends and country to bear the Gospel to the heathen in foreign climes. Well does she merit the reverence and love of all Christians; nor can the nineteenth century furnish the record of a woman who so truly deserves the title-a missionary heroine.


DAUGHTER of Ralph and Abia Hull, was born in Alstead, New Hampshire, November 4th, 1803. She was first married to the Rev. George D. Boardman, in 1825, and soon after accompanied her husband, and other missionaries, to Calcutta. | The first destination of Mr. and Mrs. Boardman was Tavoy; and there, after encountering great dangers and sufferings, and overcoming appalling difficulties and discouragements, in all of which

Mr. Boardman died, in 1831. She had previously
lost two children; one only, a son, was left her,
and they were alone, in a strange land. But she
did not desert her missionary duties.
Four years
she remained a widow, and then was united in
marriage with the Rev. Dr. Judson. Their union
was a happy one; but after the birth of her fourth
child her health failed, and a voyage to America
was recommended as the only hope of restoration.
Dr. Judson, with his wife and children, took pas-
sage for their own country; but on reaching the
Isle of France, Mrs. Judson's health was so greatly
improved, that Dr. Judson, whose duties in Burmah
were urgent, determined to return, while his wife
and children should visit America. The arrange-
ments were accordingly made, and in expectation
of the parting, Mrs. Judson wrote this sweet and
most pathetic poem, addressed to her husband:

We part on this green islet, love,—
Thou for the eastern main;

I for the setting sun, love,

Oh, when to meet again!

My heart is sad for thee, love, For lone thy way will be; And oft thy tears will fall, love, For thy children and for me.

The music of thy daughter's voice
Thou 'it miss for many a year,
And the merry shout of thine elder boys
Thou 'It list in vain to hear.

When we knelt to see our Henry die,
And heard his last, faint moan,
Each wiped the tear from the other's eye-
Now each must weep alone.

My tears fall fast for thee, love,
How can I say farewell?
But go, thy God be with thee, love,
Thy heart's deep grief to quell.

Yet my spirit clings to thine, love,
Thy soul remains with me,
And oft we'll hold communion sweet,
O'er the dark and distant sea.

And who can paint our mutual joy,
When, all our wanderings o'er,
We both shall clasp our infants three,
At home on Burmah's shore.

But higher shall our raptures glow,
On yon celestial plain,

When the loved and parted here below
Meet, ne'er to part again.

Then gird thine armour on, love,

Nor faint thou by the way

Till the Boodh shall fall, and Burmah's sons
Shall own Messiah's sway.

But they did not thus part; on putting out to sea, Mrs. Judson grew rapidly worse, and died within sight of the rocky island of St. Helena, where she was buried, September 3d, 1845.

If this second Mrs. Judson was less distinguished than her predecessor for strength of mind and the power of concentrating her energies, so as to display, at a glance, her talents, yet she was not inferior in loveliness of character. The genius and piety of Mrs. Sarah B. Judson will ever keep her memory sacred as a pure light in the path of the female missionary.

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