Puslapio vaizdai
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PREFACСЕ.

SHOULD it be thought, by the readers of this little work, that any of the articles which it contains, come not fully into the comprehension of Children, it is hoped that the difficulty of obtaining, on short notice, matter at once on a level with their minds, and best fitted to improve them, will be sufficient apology.

Nothing, however, has been admitted which may not safely be placed in the hands of children. Whatever is high wrought, or exciting to the imagination, has been studiously avoided. Much of the force, and indeed of the usefulness of the memoir of " Madame Roland," has necessarily been sacrificed; because it was deemed inexpedient to introduce children who are of the age to enjoy the "Water-Spirit," and "Cecilia," to such subjects as the moral causes, and to such scenes as the tragic consequences of the

French Revolution; and yet all the fine effect of that tranquillizing education cannot be appreciated, unless it is known how the subject of it, endowed as she was by nature with the most shrinking sensibility, sustained the intense excitement, and soul-searching trials of the latter part of her life.

The known fact, that there is much difficulty in obtaining original poetry, suited to the capacity of children, might perhaps render it unnecessary to offer any apology in relation to this part of the Casket. Care has been taken that what has been admitted should not disgrace the muse. It is believed that this will not be felt as a peculiar deficiency of this work; for the spirit of the age is not elevated to that purity and simplicity, which will, we trust, at some future time, give birth to

-thoughts that voluntary move

Harmonious numbers,

on subjects within the comprehension of children.

BOSTON, Nov. 1828.

THE WATER-SPIRIT.

FOUNDED ON THE GERMAN "UNDINE" OF BARON LA MOTTE

FOQUE.

"The fictions of genius are often the vehicles of the sublimest verities, and its flashes often open new regions of thought, and throw new light on the mysteries of our being.”

UNDINE was a water-spirit, the daughter of the Prince of the Mediterranean Sea. Among the peculiarities of this fairy race is this,—that with bodies and many talents of the human being, they yet are destitute of what constitutes the essence of the human soul. They do not possess that capacity of feeling duty and doing it, which is what makes us live for ever. Their minds are like mirrors: thoughts and feelings pass over their minds as the images pass over a mirror, and a mirror has as much power of retaining the images that pass over it, as they have of retaining their thoughts.

It matters not, therefore, what has been thought and felt by them during life. At death, not a thought or a feeling is with them; and when the dust of their beautiful bodies is scattered, nothing is left to go to heaven.

But the prince of the Mediterranean sea dreamed, in his palace of chrystal, as he reclined on his couch of sea-weed, that should his daughter marry one of the sons of men, she would receive from her husband a soul, and live for ever. He had a brother, (the river Kuhleborn,) whose favorite haunt was a pile of rocks in a German forest, over which he leaped with a song of exultation. Near this cataract was a small open space, around which he murmured in a comparatively quiet tune, and here dwelt a fisherman with his wife and one little girl, on whom they bestowed the whole treasure of their affections. It was in this spot Kuhleborn promised his brother he would find Undine a human home.

I must describe this spot particularly, that you may have an idea of it in your imagination. It

was perfectly secluded, for it was cut off from the more populous country of Germany by the forest, which report bore was haunted by spirits, who loved to work mischief upon travellers, and which was consequently seldom trod, except by the fisherman himself, who, fearing to offend God, did not fear anything besides, being sure of His protection. It must be confessed, however, even the fisherman generally took the daylight for his journeys through it, thinking it not prudent to excite his nerves and alarm his imagination by contemplating the wild rocks and trees, when the shadows of midnight lay upon them. The river, which was very wide, almost encircled this spot of ground, reflecting in its bosom the wood which extended on the other bank. Years often passed away, and the fisherman's wife saw no one but her husband and child.

This seclusion rendered it the more surprising that the child of the fisherman suddenly disappeared. At first the distracted parents thought she had wandered into the wood, and they

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