Intimately associated with the fireside are the smiles of woman. Sweet words! How many and beautiful are the scenes which they call to mind, whose charms are heightened by the smiles of a mother, a sister, a companion or friend! Who would wish to live in a world where the lovely form and tender sympathies of woman were not known? It would be more desolate than the flowerless wilderness. Why is it that the youth toils for a distinguished name, if it be not to return a worthy recompense for the smiles of the maiden whom he loves? Why does manhood seek to become affluent, if not to make his wife and children happy, and nourish the light which illumines his fireside circle, which light is the smile of woman?

wind calls up, but my pen would fain dwell upon | cheer up! cheer up! A few more days, and you more pleasing themes. How prone are we who will be an inhabitant of that blessed home beyond know not what it is to want, to forget that the the skies, "where the wicked cease from troubling, world is full of suffering! How unequally bestow- and the weary are at rest.” ed are the blessings of Providence! Thousands in this city are now shivering with cold, who are more deserving than other thousands whose bodily comforts are abundant. The dealings of God are just; but who can comprehend them? Heedless of the severities of winter, we sit beside our comfortable firesides, surrounded by relations and friends, and entertaining books, unmindful of that Good Being who bestows them all. We do not sympathise with those who suffer, and are contented to think only of ourselves. What an ungrateful and selfish creature is man! The beasts of the field, and the birds of the air, can often teach him a lesson of gratitude and love. Would that that awful moan would cease! O God, comfort the fatherless and widow, the poor and sick, during the long watches of this stormy night. Have mercy upon him who writes these lines, and grant him the blessing of a heart, which will never cease to remember the poor and the unfortunate.

These words remind me of the bed of sickness. I was a pilgrim in a strange land. A sudden illness had caused me to abide in a cottage, which stood in a secluded valley. One, two, and three weeks passed, and the fever would not leave me. But I was to write of the joys and associations The two beings who then ministered to my wants, of the fireside. Where shall I begin? The sweet- I can never forget. How sweet it was to awaken est of those joys are love, friendship, peace, reli- from a fearful dream, and find a maiden, "beautigion and home. Is there a heart that does not ful exceedingly," watching beside my bed! Who leap at the mention of these words? If these bless- can tell how mournful was her smile, when she ings are not ours now, can we not remember some heard me in my sleep talk about my distant friends, spot on the shores of the river of Life, where we and a dear home beyond the sea! My suffering once enjoyed them? Was it not love that caused made her sorrowful, but the consciousness that she a fond mother to caress and protect us in our in- was doing good to a stranger, caused her to rejoice fancy Friendship is one of the most beautiful at heart. And when I recovered and was about and delicate plants that flourishes in the garden of to take my departure, the smiles with which she human passions. Was our youth passed without and her aged mother bade me adieu, are among a friend? Have we never known the luxury of the brightest rays that beam upon me from the feeling aloof from the allurements of the world, past. Whether that lovely girl is among the living and alone with God! A forgiven heart is the great- or the dead, I hope she is the child of God. est of blessings; and peace is the offspring of re- The smiles of woman are like the leaves of ligion. Synonymous with the fireside, are the summer-the first smile of love. When we know joys of home. Home! what place upon the earth that it is pure, what is there in this world that can is dearer to the heart of man? How pleasing is exceed its beauty? But alas! it is sometimes false. the anticipation of the absent school-boy, as he The smile of love has been worn by some, as a looks forward to the close of the term, when his mask to deceive and to destroy. Once a serpent presence will be gladly welcomed to the fireside of secreted itself within the petals of a flower. Unhome. The poor farmer toils unceasingly through knowingly, I pressed the flower to my bosom, and the long days of summer, cheered by the comforts that serpent stung me. There is one being who of home, which he fondly hopes will be the reward will understand this allusion. I assure her that of labor, and the crown of his coming winter evenings. How fortunate is that man, who can say" mine is a happy home." How thankful should he be! But is there no consolation for those who are homeless and friendless in the world? Ah yes! there is, and it is as sweet as it is invaluable. tal crown in heaven. One elder Brother, the meek and lowly Jesus, There is a smile of joy. When the Holy Spirit when upon the earth, was compelled to exclaim-descends to sanctify the heart of the penitent sin"The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air ner, then it is, that we behold a smile, which is have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to the smile of joy. O, who would wish to live in a lay his head." Homeless and unhappy Christian-world where the smiles of woman were not known?

she is forgiven. May she repent her folly, live to become wise, and at last die a peaceful death.

There is a smile of grief. It is seen when the mother bends over the body of her dying child, which she believes is destined to wear an immor

Again. The fireside is the place to read and Another of the associations of the fireside is to reflect. And in our favored land how inexhaus- the Domestic Altar. O, if there is any thing that tible are the treasures of literature! But of all can cause the Angels of Heaven to weep with joy, the books associated with the fireside, the Bible it must be to look upon a Christian family at prayer! stands preeminent. It was there our parents first Let me draw that picture, now before me. It is taught us to lisp the ten commandments. It is the twilight hour. The warm fire-light gives a there the Christian father assembles his family and glow to every object in the room. A father in reads to them the marvellous story of Calvary. the vigor of manhood is on his knees, and with upHow often in childhood have we listened with lifted hand is offering his evening prayer. Around eagerness and wonder to the histories of Abraham him, in the form of a circle, and with covered and his son Isaac, of Moses, and the infant Jesus. The fireside and the Bible! Another scene has risen up before me, at the mention of these words. An aged grandmother was on the bed of death. She knew of her situation, and had called together her children and friends, that they might see how a Christian could die. On a table within her reach lay a pile of Bibles, which she intended to bestow is ended. The grandmother is again seated in on those she loved, as an appropriate parting gift. her arm chair in the corner, and has resumed her I was a little child then, but I well remember that knitting work. One of the daughters has taken a solemn hour. When my turn came, she called book to read, while the other has gone to help her me to her bedside, and placing one of the hand-mother in the kitchen. The son has gone out to somest volumes in my hand, exclaimed—" my dear son, accept this Book as a token of my love. Let it be your guide, companion and friend in your journey of life, so that its close may be as happy as mine." A moment more-and her disembodied spirit was fluttering in immortal youth, before the throne of God. Since then, it has been my lot to What a blessed privilege is prayer! A poor endure many trials. I have been without a single polluted creature of an hour, permitted to come friend in the wide world. Many a time have I en-into the immediate presence of the Great Creator, tered my room, sick of life, disappointed, and broken hearted. One book after another have I read, but without finding any comfort. And then I have opened my Bible, and pondered its pages, when every shadow which hung over me would depart, and I could say, with the poet,

faces, are kneeling-the mother of the present and
a former generation, two other females in the
freshness of girlhood, a youth and a little child.
Save the solemn tones of the father, not a whisper
can be heard. Even the kitten on the hearth, and
the infant in the cradle, seem conscious of the so-
lemnity of the hour and the scene.
The prayer

46

Holy Bible-book divine,

Precious treasure, thou art mine!"

It is indeed a treasure which I would not part with for the kingdoms of the world. It is a book which never tires. It was written by the inspiration of God, and its truths are everlasting. The following quotation from Hannah More is too appropriate to omit. "The first circumstance which strikes us on opening the Bible is, the variety of composition which is crowded in its narrow limits;-historical records extending through thousands of years;-poetry, of almost every species;biographic memoirs of that very kind which the modern world agrees to deem most interesting;— epistolary correspondence, which, even for excellence of manner, might challenge a comparison with any composition of that nature in the known world; and lastly, that singular kind of writing, peculiar to this Sacred Book, in which the veil that hides futurity from man is penetrated, remote occurrences so interpreted as to imply demonstration that God alone could have communicated such knowledge to man."

spend the evening with some youthful friend. The child, the baby and the kitten, are playing together, while the fond father watches their innocent sport with a look of love. What must Heaven be, if it is more peaceful, and holy, and beautiful than this earthly scene?

and, for the silent offering of a penitent heart, receive a blessing which the universe would be too poor to purchase. It is a wonder to me, how any man who pretends to be a rational being, can refuse to bend the knee before the King of kings. Ashamed to pray! Every single blessing we enjoy is a gift from God, and yet how many are ashamed to acknowledge their indebtedness! God is the only being who can comfort the sorrowing, and yet how many are ashamed to implore his aid! The power of prayer! It is omnipotent.

"Prayer is the soul's sincere desire,

Uttered, or unexpressed;
The motion of a hidden fire

That trembles in the breast.
"Prayer is the burden of a sigh,

The falling of a tear;
The upward glancing of an eye,
When none but God is near.

"Prayer is the simplest form of speech
That infant lips can try;
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach
The Majesty on high.

"Prayer is the Christian's vital breath,
The Christian's native air,
The watch-word at the gates of death;
He enters heaven by prayer.
"Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice
Returning from his ways;
While angels in their songs rejoice,
And cry-Behold he prays!'

Having thus spoken, Brown left the prison, before either you are but a youth, and therefore 1 am the more certain of his auditors had time to reply to these characteristic that the enticing charms of this fair damsel have not observations. brought you hither to night on any wild scheme of knighterrantry. For even though the maiden be fair to look upon, remember, friend Charles, she is of this abominable sect; and that in these times of error and backsliding and heterodoxy, and of the washing the outside of the cup and platter, there are many whited sepulchres in our midst.

"Who are those favored persons Mr. Brown has had the charity to visit?" asked Charles, as soon as the speaker had vanished. “I have, indeed, come to see some of your prisoners. For this purpose I hold in my hand a permit from the magistrates themselves. Is there not in your custody a certain Quakeress, by name Rebecca Danvers? If so, I wish to see her immediately, Mr. Barnacle."

"Yes, it is, in truth, a genuine writing, the authority of which I do not dispute," continued he, as he scrutinized the paper which Charles now handed to him. "It is verily a correct writing, bearing the lawful impress of the magistrates, nor does it become me to question of your business with the fair prisoner. So take this lamp, and going to the farthest end of the adjacent hall, you will find a passage leading to the door of her room. This key unlocks it. And now be your errand with the maiden what it may, of which

"It is none other than the witch, he has just mentioned, whom Mr. Brown has visited," answered the jailor, in a hesitating manner, wishing to conceal from Charles the fset that Brown had seen Rebecca, and still fearing lest it might be discovered he had been allured to do so without a permit. "And now," continued he," he says rightly, the old hag must be buried before morning, according to the custom and law for the interment of witches and necro-be it far from me to question more than is my duty, rememmancers. So be content, Master Charles, and tarry here whilst I run to the sexton's, for his aid in carrying away the body, and then I will admit you to this Quaker damsel, if as you say, you hold the permit of the council, which indeed, I do not doubt, knowing that you are the son of that good father Elliot, who visits the prisoners daily, and who always bears such an excellent report, everywhere pitying and compassionating the afflicted."

ber, you are but a vessel of clay, and like us all frail mortals, not less liable to he led away captive by the snares and wiles of the arch-enemy, in that he entices you in the garb of an Angel."

Charles, bowing respectfully to Barnacle for these disinterested directions, hastened to comply with those other directions respecting the apartment of Rebecca, with which he felt more deeply interested, and by the light which he bore found no great difficulty in threading his way along the passage mentioned, to the room in question. It was with a trembling hand that he applied the key, and turned back the cruel bolt, which held in degrading confinement this persecuted girl. Anxious as he had been to fly to her assistance, and inform her of his untiring efforts in her behalf, to renew his vows of unchanged affection, and renewedly pledge to her the sacrifice even of his life, in exertions to save a

Before Charles could urge with the jailor the necessity of immediate attention to his demand, or make any reply to Barnacle, the latter had gone, leaving him no other alternative but to wait his return. So he resolved to make a virtue of necessity, and wait patiently. Meanwhile Charles found time for a little reflection on his present afflicting situation. He was now under the same roof with his adored Rebecca. After all his toils and solicitude, he was about to be admitted into the presence of the persecuted, sor-being dearer to him than his own existence; hastening to rowing and lonely Quakeress. Under what sad circumstances of distress would he now behold her! How great the contrast from those happy, those blissful hours, which once he enjoyed with her, amid all the charms of rural pleasures, and all the delights of youthful love! She, the sharer of those delights and pleasures, and the idol of all his adoration, was the inmate of the jail of the colony! Here, under the accusation of witchcraft, she was only awaiting the terrible day of trial! He knew her guiltless of this foolish charge, and believed her about to become the victim of this cruel persecution, unless preserved by himself. Now, that be had come to offer this protection, he met, in the near vicinity of her he would preserve, his restless rival.

Charles thought it was with no good purpose that George Brown was found at the jail on that evening. His close observation of the motives of Brown had long since taught him to expect something sinister and covert in all his conduct. He saw about him, on this occasion also, the same smooth exterior, and heard from his lips the same canting jargon. Nor did he now doubt, from the duplicity of his remarks concerning Old Meg, as well as from his sudden departure on seeing him there, that the visit of his rival to the jail had been connected somehow with the destiny of Rebecca. In this painful view of his present situation Charles was indulging-a view in no way alleviated by past recollections-when the officious Barnacle again bustled into the apartment.

her with all this ardor and resolution, Charles now stood in doubt and hesitation at the threshold of her apartment, and feared to enter. He knew not how greatly she might be changed; and dreaded to behold the ravages misfortune might have wrought upon her lovely face and fragile form, upon the buoyancy of her mind and spirits. But willing to share all her dangers, and sympathise with all her sorrows, he at length entered her place of confinement. The next moment the lovers were in each other's embrace.

"Thou art still my own dear Rebecca," exclaimed Charles, soon as the ecstacy of their mutual joy had subsided.

"And thee too, Charles! Thou art the same constant friend thou didst promise," responded the Quakeress. "Thou art indeed, just as I ever felt the inward assurance thou wouldst prove."

"Alas! dearest Rebecca, 1 did greatly fear," continued her affectionate lover, as he pressed her nearer to his heart. "I did greatly fear that grief would bow this frail form, and anguish press sorely upon thy young spirits, ere I could return to cheer thee, and tell thee my efforts and plans for thy safety. And alas! too true have been my apprehensions! Too plainly I see thy form has lost its fleetness, and thy agile step its lightness. The brightness of thine eye is dimmed by weeping, and this fair cheek is far paler than it was wont, in those happy, happy days that are gone. Art thou ill, dearest? Has either sorrow, or suffering, or this dreadful suspense, or the solitude of thy gloomy prison, brought disease upon thee?"

"Now Master Elliot," said he, "am I ready to admit you to this Quakeress-only let me see the permit you have "Nay, Charles. Say not so. I am not ill-now-now spoken of, not that I at all question the truth of what you thou hast come: I am quite well now. Think not that sorsay; for who would doubt the veracity of the son of father row or suffering, or the uncertainty of my fate, have done Elliot?-but being strictly charged by the honorable coun- this; and concerning the loneliness of this place, if thou cil to administer their orders without respect of persons, I dost not know it from thy good father, or thy sweet sister, am now held to the conscientious discharge of my official then thou hast now to learn, that I have not alone inhabited dary. Indeed, friend Elliot, though it ill becomes me to here."

mention it to you, I know you are worthy of trust, albeit Then she told Charles that part of her history which

he needed no other eloquence to plead in her behalf.

had transpired in his absence, while Old Meg had been the wish to sacrifice his life for her. As he fondly parted across companion of her confinement. She told him of the old her beautiful forehead, the rich hair which hung down over beldame's cruel conduct-of her raving fury and raging her lovely face, in disordered ringlets, and thus disclosed madness-the awful scene of her death, which had just oc- her fair brow, paler than he had ever before seen it, he felt curred, and the removal of the body. At this narrative, it would not be a sacrifice to die for such a being; and as Charles ceased to wonder at her weeping and paleness- he beheld her tears fall profusely down her blanched cheek, especially after her recital of the conduct and cruelty of Brown on that occasion. Rebecca informed him of all those fearful paroxysms of his violent passions, she had then witnessed-of his despair-rage-chagrin,--and of all those fierce exhibitions of his feelings which are generally the offspring of the complex emotions of love and hate. She concealed only Brown's threats, if she disclosed his fiend1sh soliloquy over the dead body of Old Meg. True, she had resolutely refused to swear the oath of secrecy, yet, she now feared to divulge that dreadful scene, when she remembered the fiendish words and aspect of this desperate

man.

The scene here presented, might have been an useful spectacle to the selfish and sordid. Could any such have seen these solitary beings in that prison, as they sat together under the wan light of their single lamp, and communed in sadness of their past bliss, present bitter anguish, and future darkened hopes; and could he have heard, amid all this deep desolation of their hearts, those earnest vows of true love, even such a man would have lost, methinks, a moiety of his worldliness.

In love like theirs there can be no alloy. It has no base She did not suppose that evil could arise from his unhallowed emotion, no one ingredient of that calculating connection with the Indians, very naturally thinking that spirit which guides common actions. It is far above cusconnection would cease, since Margaret was no more. tom, and far oversteps the prescribed bounds and narrow Little did she then think a knowledge of that intercourse ideas of an unnatural conventionalism. Its noble selfwould have been a sure instrument, and a powerful one, in abandonment scorns the wise prejudices of a discreet world. the hands of Charles, wherewithal to bring him to answer Love such as this lives only in the union of two bearts, before the magistrates for all his misdeeds. But, as after-knit the closer by the dear and grateful consciousness that wards appeared, it was wisely destined that this arch in- each is all the world to the other, and naught to them is all triguer should not become himself involved in the snare the world beside-naught to them its cold sagacity, its which he was then so busily laying for others, until he was change and chance, its business strife and din, and all its ready, as he conceived, to spring them so very secretly and everlasting bustle. Abused this sentiment may be, persuccessfully upon his intended victims. verted and degraded it has been, by grosser natures; but when it exists between two such kindred spirits, then that which has been termed "the master passion," is refined and purified, and becomes at once a subdued, tender and gentle emotion, and it is then a source of the finest and chastest delight of which our nature is susceptible. If there be one sentiment of man's heart-not religious-but which can be esteemed akin to our holy religion without sacrilege, it is that of virtuous love, chastened by sorrow and elevated by affliction. Such was the love of Charles Elliot and Rebecca Danvers.

In Rebecca's narration, and in what he himself had witnessed-in the sudden departure of Brown, and in the removal of Margaret's corpse at Brown's bidding, before he had been admitted to Rebecca-in the evident confusion of Barnacle, though Charles did not suppose the jailor at all understood or connived at these proceedings, farther than that he had admitted Brown to the prisoners, as he suspected, without a permit-in all these circumstances, our hero now was convinced of what he had before felt strong suspicions, that Brown had been the secret instigator of the witchcraft delusion, just as he had formerly been of the persecutions against the Quakers. He recollected much evidence which supported this belief-the fact of Brown's visiting the habitation of Old Meg at midnight, and especially the circumstance of his being the first to notice the accusation when at the trial of the old witch, Rebecca was accused of witchcraft, and also of his being the first to address the magistrates.

"Fear not, my love. Let us take courage. Surely there must be mercy in store for the innocent,—so let us hope all will yet be well with us.”

"Alas! dear Charles, I fear thy kindness and effort will ill suffice to save my life," said Rebecca, as she rested her lovely head upon the bosom of her lover. "If condemned to death, I fear that the assistance of these friendly savages will not enable thee to rescue me. Yet thou hast been very kind in visiting them for my sake. Do not, Charles, endanger thine own safety for my poor life. Do not, I entreat thee, sacrifice thyself so generously for me, whom thou well These suspicions and apprehensions Charles would fain knowest it is so dangerous to assist, and whom help can have concealed from her, while he frankly told his own ex-so little avail. Thou art not ignorant of the danger of aidertions to counteract the crafty designs of Brown. Yet, ing the poor people who have been cried out upon by the he in vain tried to disguise from her woman's fears, his own afflicted." forebodings. He related to her his interview with the friendly natives, their kindness, and their willingness to assist in rescuing her from the prison, and in endeavoring to preserve her precious life, if she should be condemned to death for witchcraft, and he should fail to accomplish her rescue without their interference. She felt little cheered with the prospect that this dangerous and precarious aid must be the final resort. Charles deeply sympathised in all these grievances, and eagerly sought to administer hope and consolation. He sought to comfort her by new assurances of his sincere attachment. He reminded her of the former escape of herself and kindred from the intrigues and arts of their common enemy. But, be her fate what it might, he vowed to be her protector and companion, and to share that fate, at whatever peril. With that true ardor, which the lover only experiences when the object of his heart's love is in danger, Charles endeavored to reanimate her drooping spirits. As he folded her to his heaving bosom, and felt the throbbings of her anguished heart beat in unison with his own, he felt it would be his only honor and his last

Thus would Charles endeavor to whisper consolation, in reply to her frequent expressions of terror and alarm,-too painfully conscious that this was the most he could do for her then; and knowing the imminent peril of her situation, and the hazard of his projected enterprize for her future relief.

"Do I then hear truly, that he who has ever been so hostile to my kindred and to their religion, will be there, at my trial?" enquired the sorrowful Quakeress. "Thou hast heard how firmly he is persuaded in his belief of evil spirits, witches and wizards, and thou also knowest with how little mercy he regardeth us unfortunate persons who have been accused-O! Charles, will that fearful man be there?"

As may be supposed, Rebecca did not then speak of Mr. George Brown; but of an individual of much more importance, being no less a personage than the Rev. Cotton