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still around the pirate's treasure. Jacob Little was never seen or heard of after. His scanty portion of goods and chattels disappeared with him, and Betsy always supposed that he left the country, in shame and sorrow. Anthony Slack maintained with his dying breath, that he saw him high up in the air, riding on the tail of a fiery dragon. Anthony himself died in three weeks, of the effects of that night's race. Betsy thought she could do nothing better than to intrust herself and farm to the care of Ebenezer Green. The kind hearted girl certainly lamented her uncle's death, as much as such a being could be lamented; but in a few months, the frolicksome lass could not forbear saying, “Well, Eben, since he was scared out of the world by a rocket, it is a sad pity he did not know it was of American manufacture. It would have been such a comfort to his republican soul!”
TRUE honor, though it be a different principle from religion, is not contrary to it. Religion embraces virtue, as it is enjoined by the law of God; honor, as it is graceful and ornamental to human nature.
The religious man fears, the man of honor scorns, to do an ill action. The latter considers vice as something that is beneath him ; the other as something that is offensive to the Divine Being ; the one, as what is unbecoming, the other, as what is forbidden.
It A LIA’s vales in verdure slept, While Spring her humid odors wept, With wreaths the breathing statue bound, The fallen dome with ivy crown'd, And bade old Tiber's yellow wave With fuller flow its margin lave. Low at the base of Alps sublime, Where the columbar cypress grows, And falling streams with tuneful chime To slumber lull the ear of time, His cell a hermit chose. Once at his peaceful door reclined, While lonely musings sooth'd his mind, Soft mists involved his favorite tree, In fainter murmurs humm'd the bee, And in bright tints gay Fancy drew A vision o'er his cheated view. A lovely form, in robes of light, Came gliding o'er his raptured sight, Fresh garlands 'mid her tresses glow’d, Around her steps strange beauty flow'd, Attendant birds pour'd forth their lays, And prank'd their plumage in her praise, The fawn came bounding o'er the earth, The tufted violets sprang to birth, The olive donn'd its vesture pale, And fragrance floated on the gale. Then, bold o'er Alpine cliffs she sped,
A VISION OF THE ALPS. 95
The snow-wreath vanish'd at her tread,
And turrets frowning at the cloud, Gleam'd forth its architecture proud. Here, age on age, with painful thought, The troubled elements had wrought, To stretch the ramparts' massy line, With wreaths the pillar'd halls to twine, And 'neath the lash of tempests rude, Had of their bitter task pursued, Arranging Winter's glittering spoil, With slow and aggregated toil. The admiring fair, with wonder fraught, An entrance to the structure sought, But a grim form her course withstood, Whose frigid eye congeal’d her blood. Aged, yet strong at heart he seem’d, His reverend beard like silver suream’d, Of polish'd ice, the sparkling gem Adorn'd his kingly diadem, And closer, as he spoke, he prest His ermine mantle o'er his breast. “Say! who art thou, intruder bold, Who near this losty throne, Would with its monarch audience hold, Unbidden and alone 7 Why comest thou thus with footstep free, Unnamed, unheralded, to me?” Recoiling from his brilliant cell Whose breath in freezing tide, Congeal’d to sudden ice-drops fell, The undaunted maid replied: “I come, on Nature's mission kind, Oppression's victims to unbind, To bid the sceptred tyrant bow, And wake a smile on Misery's brow. The realm of bliss my care extends, Man, beast and insect are my friends,
A VISION OF THE ALPS.
Each nursling of the nested grove,