resolved to interfere, and summoned us to appear before them. Neither of us hesitated to confess the whole; and the natural, though by us unforeseen consequence of our avowal, was a fresh investigation, immediate separation and imprisonment, which, however, was, for her, mitigated to confinement in her own house. Even yet I believe, and my friend, the advocate beforementioned, confirmed me in my opinion, that the whole might at last have been happily brought to a conclusion, had not an unexpected event confounded all who were favourable to our cause, and plunged us in disgrace and misery.

"To be brief, she, to whom confinement and separation from me were insupportable, attempting to escape, was detected, brought back, and notwithstanding her condition, treated with inhuman severity. At this news, my former patient endurance was changed into despair and madness. Flight and deliverance were, from that moment, the sole and anxious objects of my thoughts; and, in the state of mind in which I then was, I considered but how to accomplish the first, without having imagined the means by which I could

effect the second.

"I contrived to make my escape unobserved that very night; and I was already beyond the walls of my prison, ere I reflected how I could succeed in rescuing her, and carrying her off with me. Whither we should flee, or how we should live, seemed at that moment trifies, which necessity would easily and quickly teach us. How to get her was my only difficulty. Were I once taken, nothing could be more certain than that I should be closer confined than before, and deprived of every future chance of escape. What was to be done for our preservation must be quickly done, as I could not assure myself that my absence would remain undiscovered another hour. Whilst a thousand plans, no sooner formed than rejected, rushed across my mind, the idea presented itself of

setting fire to the house, or rather wooden hovel in which she was confined; and, amidst the alarm and confusion this would occasion, to force my way to her, bear her through the flames, support her in our flight, whilst my strength sufficed, and to trust to circumstances for the rest. This project was no sooner conceived than executed: a neighbouring lamp afforded me fire, and the dry wooden work of the house soon burst into a flame. I was, unrecognized, among the first to give the alarm, rushed safely through the flames, and bore her, half dead with surprise, beyond the city gates. But alas, how seldom does our strength second our will! The exertions I had already made, the weight of my beloved burden, the length of the way, and my own bodily weakness from long confinement, overcame me about a mile from the gates of the town, and I sunk senseless upon the ground, exhausted by fatigue and loss of blood from a wound I had received in my neck during the fire. My unhappy partner attempted to support me, but in vain; her weakness required assistance for herself. Besides, we were already missed, our pursuers arrived, secured us, and once more dragged us to our prisons.

"I was now, as I had foreseen, and dreaded, more closely confined than before, and my death unavoidable; but even this reflection strengthened my desperate resolution, once more to dare all hazards, to succeed or perish. My jailer belonged to that class of rough hardened wretches, in whose breast every feeling of humanity seems totally extinct. One day I surprised him asleep. Despair gave me strength; I found means to get rid of my chains, stole the key out of his pocket, and was already half out of the door, when he awoke, and sprang furiously after me. I was the younger, and, in the scuffle which ensued, proved likewise the stronger. I grappled with him, and, seizing him by the throat, fastened him with so firm a grasp to

the wall, as to render it impossible for him to cry out for assistance. I then demanded of him to swear not to betray my escape, but instead of replying, the wretch, unperceived by me, drew a knife from his pocket, with which he attempted to stab me in the back. I however wrested it from him; and as I clearly perceived, that if he lived, all chance of saving my own life was lost, I buried it twice in his throat, left him dying on the ground, and fled. Again I reached her I adored in safety; for she was, I well knew, on account of her dangerous state, allowed to be at liberty on bail; and once more we resolved to fly together. But the retributive arm of the avenger of blood was close behind me; we were pursued, retaken, and now, within a few days, an ignominious and inevitable death awaits me. Oh, how welcome to me is its approach! Is it possible, think you, I can regret to leave a world, which has branded my name with infamy, and heaped upon my soul an accumulated mass of the deepest and most irremediable misery ?"

Here the unfortunate man concluded his history, and heroically has kept his promise of patiently, yet firmly submitting to his fate. Oh! I could tell you much of his courage in the last awful hour; of his heartrending interview with his miserable wife; of his repentance, piety, and holy confidence of pardon; but you must forgive me, if I break off this long letter abruptly. This poor youth has become so dear to me, that I cannot think of him without tears; and if yours have not already fallen over his melancholy history, the blame must lie upon the unskilfulness of my description, which may have weakened the interest and compassion his unhappy fate would otherwise have excited.

MALE COQUETRY.

The two following articles were laid aside some numbers since; but an event

has lately occurred in this city, that renders their present publication exceedingly well timed. A penurious old batchelor, in affluent circumstances, who for many years had been very assiduous in his attentions to an amiable girl, suddenly, without any cause, left her, and after a short courtship, married another lady. The honey-moon was passed at the Springs; but on their return, he was met in Broadway by the indignant brother of the girl, who, with an unfriendly cowskin, inflicted a very severe, but certainly well-merited chastisement on the fickle lover. We exceedingly regret the occurrence of such instances of violence in our public streets, but we regret still more that a necessity should exist for such examples of salutary correction; and we trust that the application of this practical reproof will be attended with a beneficial result to the community at large.

From the Glasgow Chronicle.

THE REMONSTRANCE-Campbell. "Hope deferr'd maketh the heart sick."

"Whoever reads the following pathetic lines, will recall to his mind the fate of Miss Johnson and Miss Vanhomrig, the Stella and Venessa of the cold-blooded Swift. Their story is well told by Scott, in his life of Swift, and is most eloquently commented on, in the Edinburgh Review of that article. Both these interesting women died prematurely and broken-hearted, and were as effectually murdered by Swift, as if he had poisoned them. His conduct was altogether indefensible. His own repeated testimony had established their reputation for sense and virtue, and for all those amiable qualities that were calculated to ensure their happiness in married life. Yet, both of them were suffered to linger and to expire under the weight of misery which Campbell so exquisitely describes, and, compared to which, no "corporal sufferance" ought to be called "a pang." If that hateful animal, a male coquet, can be made to feel, let him do so while he contemplates the misery that such as himself can inflict. An artful woman may, indeed, assume the appearance of grief, arising from unrequited love, and for a time deceive the affection, blind the penetration, and mislead the sympathy of those around her. But she is soon detected; new objects, and a short absence, quickly heal the wounds of vanity, and the mortification arising from baffled artifice. Campbell does not allude to such as these.

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrongs you're doing

In my cheek's pale hue,
All my life with sorrow strewing?-
Wed-or cease to woo!

Rivals banish'd, promise plighted,
Still our days are disunited,
Now the lamp of love is lighted,

Now half quench'd appears, Damp'd, and wav'ring, and benighted, 'Midst my sighs and tears.

Charms, you call your dearest blessing,
Lips, that thrill at your caressing,
Eyes, a mutual soul confessing,

Soon you'll make them grow
Dim, unworthy your possessing,
Not with age, but wo.

From a new volume of "Poems, by One of a Family Circle."

The motto of the following poem is " Si deseris perca." The description which it contains of a young woman, who is supposed to have died broken-hearted, is touched in many parts with uncommon tenderness. Brit. Crit. for Dec.

He seem'd to love her, and her youthful cheek

Wore for a while the transient bloom of joy;

And her heart throbb'd with hopes she could noi speak,

New to delight, and new to ecstacy. He won that heart in its simplicity, All undisguis'd in its young tenderness; And, smiling, saw that he, and only he, Had power at once to wound it or to

bless.

She gave to him her innocent affection, And the warm feelings of her guileless

breast;

rest.

And from the storms of life she sought protection, In his dear love, her home of earthly In this sweet trust, her opening days were blest, And joyously she hail'd her coming years; For well she knew that even if distrest, There would be one kind hand to dry her tears.

He left her-and in trouble she awoke From her young dream of bliss; but murmur'd not

Over her silent sufferings, nor spoke

To any one upon her cruel lot. You would have deem'd that he had been

forgot,

CORPORATION OF NEW-YORK.

The following satirical effusion appeared in the early part of the present year, in some of our daily journals; and we now insert it in our proper department, not more for the purpose of testifying our unqualified approbation of its sentiments, than with the view of preserving a production so creditable to the poetical cha racter of our country. It is understood to be from the pen of the author of FANNY, and (many) of the CROAKERS-works which have most fully contradicted the gloomy and unpatriotic assertion of a (Philadelphia) rhyming Quaker, that this is the land

"Where Fancy sickens, and where Genius

dies."

In justice to the honourable body whose proceedings are here held up to ridicule. we must add, that we have been assured by a worthy alderman, that so much of the ar

ticle as relates to the taking of the money from the treasury, had no other foundation than in the fancy of the poet.

Extract from the Minutes of the Common Council, Dec. 26, 1820.

"Resolved, that this Board will visit the Academy of Arts, for the purpose of viewing a painting now exhibiting there, from the pencil of Mr. Rembrandt Peale, and that it be recommended to our fellow-citizens generally to go also."

When the wild waters from the deluged
earth
Retir'd-and nature woke to second birth,
And the first rainbow met the patriarch's

seen,

The scene has changed, thanks to the Corporation, And Peale has now a city's approbation; "Resolved," the Council Records say, "that

we

"Untie the purse-strings of the Treasury, "Take out just five and twenty cents a head, "And by the Mayor in grave procession. led, "Visit the Academy of Arts-and then, "Preceded by the Mayor, walk back again." Hide your diminished heads, ye sage Reviewers!

Thank Heaven, the day is o'er with you, and yours,

No longer at your shrines will Genius bow,
For Mayors and Aldermen are critics now,
Alike to them (the Crightons of their age)
The painter's canvass and the poet's page,
From high to low, from law to verse they
stoop,

Judges of Sessions, Science, Arts and Soup.
Time was when Dr. Mitchill's word was
law,
When Monkeys, Monsters, Whales, and
Esquimaux,
Asked but a letter from his ready hand,
To be the theme and wonder of the land.
That time is past-henceforth each show-
man's doom

Must be decided in the Council Room,
And there the city's guardians will decree
An artist's or an author's destiny;
Pronounce the fate of poem, song, or son-

The paleness on thy cheek! who so oft, When thou wert undisturb'd by nought but health,

Have fondly listen'd to thine infant tales J

480

Alas! thy race is run!

The old hollow log where the partridge was drumming,

And the woodpecker pecking the hollow oak-tree.

Too good wert thou in this vile world to stay, Where nought but sin and sorrow reign triumphant,

And bending thy course towards the mansions

Of eternal rest, with humble patience
The pangs of pain endured, till DEATH
With icy grasp, had caught thee in his

THE MORNING OF LIFE.

The following beautiful verses in the style of Woodworth's celebrated "Ironbound Bucket," were written by Mr. SAMUEL STILLWELL, author of "Historical Sketches of the Rise and Progress of the Methodist Society, in the city of NewYork," and are copied from the introductory remarks of that work. They will be read with much pleasure by all who take delight in reviewing the scenes of their juvenile days.

How often I think on the scenes of my childhood,

The meadows and fields where the wild flowers grew;

The orchards, the pond, the glade, and the wildwood,

And the social delights that my infancy knew.

The dew-spangled lawn, and the green grassy meadow,

The copse where the birds warbled sweetly their lay;

Where oft in the wide-spreading trees'

ample shadow

I remember the old-fashion'd mansion we liv'd in,

With the bay and the beach, and the ocean in view;

The swamp and the brake where the singing birds built in, And the trees by the lane where the thorn-apples grew.

In that old-fashion'd house in this lov'd situation,

With small panes of glass, and the clean oaken-floors;

Content was our lot, and no fear of invasion, Not a bar, nor a lock, nor a bolt to the doors.

But what was the cause of that tranquil en

joyment?

Not the house, nor the fields, nor the prospects so rare; Not the orchards, nor pond, nor the rural But the dearly lov'd friends of my bo

employment,

som were there.

And the day that we parted, the heartrending anguish No pen can describe, neither pencil portray; To me all the beauties around seem'd to languish,

And all the gay scenes quickly faded

away.

Those transient enjoyments how fair and how fickle,

They spring up and bloom like the flow

ers in May;

But trouble and care thrust in the sharp sickle,

They're cut down, and wither, and die in a day.

But the joys of the faithful are ever in creasing,

Their source is celestial, their Author

divine;

In the truth they rejoice, and their prospects are pleasing,

In glory and beauty for ever to shine.

MAXIM.

Let not thy conduct be a reproach to thy precepts; lest thy daughters disregard thee, and say, thou teachest others, but teachest not thyself.

BOLMORE, PRINTER, 70 BOWERY.