Her garb of loveliness, and nature smiled.
'Twas then I changed my life; by laws was ruled,
Laws of subservience; subservience

To use.

Honeysuckle.- Wondrous indeed! amazing!

And you, your little self, a mote, a speck,
Would boast of immortality, a life
Replete in virtue, and of endless years.
But now proceed, I'll hear you patiently.
A fable suits me if it's smoothly told.
Waterdrop.-Excuse me, gentle Miss, I would not boast;
I speak the truth, no angel tells the more.
Oft have I gone the round of earth, on land,
By sea, through air and earth I've sped my way;
My motto, onward, and my object good.

In mist and dew, in snow and falling rain,
I've done my duty, such as need required.
To air I give salubrity, to earth

Fertility. Vigor and life to man.

Each herb, and fruit, and flower, from me alone
Receive their fragrance, taste and loveliness.
Sometimes, as now, I drip, in silence, down
The pliant bay; then mingle in the flow

Of mighty rivers. Now I lay conceal'd

In th' acorn's narrow cell, then dash, in foam,
Through ocean's wide expanse-the wat'ry waste.

Honeysuckle.-Something of consequence, indeed, you are.
No wonder then, no miry filth nor pool,

Stagnant and motionless, could drink you in,
And you be lost. Vain boaster! now explain
The way by which you gained your present seat,
And placed yourself, in threat'ning insolence,
O'er my unveiled face. What subtle art
Conceal'd, or magic force directs your course?
Waterdrop.-"Tis hard to tell; suffice to say, the sun,
Whose rays you dread, in part my way directs.
'Tis he who raises me to seats on high,
When one kind deed is done; and sends me on
To acts of charity; to fertilize

The earth, and cheer mankind.

Obedience to a counter power.

But still I yield

'Tis kindred love and near affinity.

A burning passion swells my inmost breast,
To meet my mother earth in kind embrace.
These counter forces each with constant press

Incite me onward in my varied course.

You ask, how came I here? from th' air around
In particles, so small, as to elude

Your sight; and here collected, as you see.

Honeysuckle.-Your tale is marvelous-most wond'rous strange-
You boast of charity and kindness shown--
Now show me proof-proof of your sincerity.
Yon sun is high advanced, and still proceeds-

I feel his scorching ray's increasing heat.

My heart grows sick, I'm faint, and soon shall sink,
Without some timely aid. Will you bend down
That flexile leaf, and veil my burning face?

Waterdrop.-I'll do my best-That is impossible.

I'll be the remedy;

(Falls and diffusing himself over the Honeysuckle, collects on the stem

below.)

Honeysuckle.-(Irritated.)

Base Intruder!

Vile, deceitful wretch! Is this your favor?

Where's your proffered boon, your boasted virtue ?

Oh! those soft words-how could they charm me thus!
Why should I thus sport with the vipers sting!

(Looking down upon Waterdrop.)

Ah! dost tarry still, to feed my torments?
Now look ye here-behold these drooping leaves,
This stem-

(Waterdrop falls to the earth and disappears.)

He's gone-" embraced his mother earth,
As well he said. A filthy spot it was,

But now, still more. Peace be to his remains-
Let none disturb them, lest a stench arise;

A deadly stench, that poisons all. But stop

These leaves revive; my strength, at once, recruits,
And I am well. Whence came this sudden cure?

The sun shines scorching, but I feel it not

Ah! yes-too true. My sisters-they are dead;

And now my parent stem, alone on me

Can look in hope. Then what's the cause? The leaf

It surely is not that. The Waterdrop

Oh! woe to me-I know that it is he.
Ah! yes-"A remedy " he called himself.
That remedy, I did abuse, discard,

I uttered maledictions long and hard.

I raved and madly triumphed on his grave.
Let me beg forgiveness. Perhaps his shade
Will hear and pardon me. But no-I fear
His wrath, and vengeance just. In shame
I'll hide my head. With sackcloth deck myself,
And die.

Y. Y

SLAVERY-EMANCIPATION-COLONIZATION SOCIETY-ANTISLAVERY SOCIETY AND ABOLITIONISTS.

prognos

In a country like our own, where liberal principles maintain the ascendency, where free inquiry and innovation are prominent characteristics of the people, there is always some absorbing topic, some favorite speculation or subject of popular debate, Never does the period arrive when the temple of that litigious Janus, who sits as our guardian Genius, can be closed. It is true, since Spurzheim has slept and his theory slumbered, since Nullification has found a peaceful grave and Black Hawk retired to his cabin in the West, the wiseacres of the day have been somewhat puzzled in their tications, as to what subject may next occupy public attention. But the winds of wordy strife and noisy debate are springing up anew, in every quarter, and it requires no great prescience to foresee that the condition of our black population in the South must soon be the topic of paramount interest. Already has this theme assumed its appropriate nomenclature, and the terms "Garrisonism," "Abolition" and "Abolitionists, "" "Liberators" and "Colonization men " are becoming "familiar in our mouth as household words," That the subject is one of great importance is undeniable; important to the philanthropist who pleads for the amelioration of human misery, to the patriot whose eye is fixed upon the future prospects of his country, to the slaveholder who pleads precedent, expediency and necessity, and more especially to the slave himself who pleads for freedom, and those rights which are recognized in the Constitution of the country where he sojourns. But in times of popular excitements, the grand object of every one seems to be, to vanquish those who differ from him in sentiment, apparently laboring to widen the breach of separation, instead of employing his zeal in the investigation of truth. The slaveholders look upon the people of the North as their sworn enemies; the advocates of colonization regard the abolitionists with an eye of suspicion; and these, in their turn, allege that the tendency of the colonization system is to perpetuate slavery. I have no design of attempting to make proselytes to any favorite doctrine of my own; but there are certain questions, growing out of this subject, which I wish to propose to those who are willing to treat the matter in a candid and impartial And I do hope that the pages of the Philomathesian will

manner.

not be denied to any communications, the tendency of which is to place the subject in a clearer light, and render any assistance in determining what is right and what is wrong.

1. Is there moral guilt in slavery?

2. WOULD a general and immediate emancipation be practicable?

3. WOULD the condition of the slaves be improved by emancipation?

4. WOULD a general emancipation be detrimental to the pecuniary interests of the slave-holders ?

5. How far is legislative interference expedient?

6. WHAT Course should be pursued by the people of the North, relative to slavery in the South?

7. Is the tendency of the course pursued by the Colonization Society, to perpetuate, or destroy slavery?

B. B.

Dick on the Improvement of Society.
Family Library, No. 59.

FROM a cursory examination of this Number, we think the present Volume an important addition to this valuable series of works. It embodies much valuable information, well arranged and clearly exhibited. In the Introduction, the Author takes a view of the intellectual state of mankind at different former periods. In the progress of the work, he points out to us, here and there, a spot where the light of science glimmered amid the surrounding darkness, until he brings us to the present time. Many of the advantages, which would attend a more general diffusion of knowledge,are strikingly illustrated; its tendency to remove the causes of superstitious notions, and to enlarge the sources of refined enjoyment, is well illustrated. Like most of the numbers of the Family Library it is replete with interest, with numerous facts so happily exhibited, that we scarce fail, in every page, of becoming absorbed in the subject, Sound instruc tion, and a style happy in its communication, we think the characteristics of this work,

The History of Charlemagne ;

By G. P. R. James, Esq. Fam. Lib. No. 60. This, we understand, is the commencement of a series of Volumes, historical of France in the lives of her Great Men. In the Introduction to this history of one of her greatest and noblest, much light is thrown on the early periods of the French nation. Like those of most of the European Empires, the origin and early history of France are involved in abundance of barbarous mist and obscurity; and this, in the outset, the Author has, with a good degree of success, endeavored to remove. This Volume is ably written, and tokens much good in subsequent numbers.

THE once magnificent and commercial Scio, was a smouldering desolation, and her citizens, half consumed by the flames that ever and anon burst forth from the ruins of their once splendid mansions, and mangled by a wanton and ferocious soldiery, were strewed upon the ground in all the circumstances of barbarian revenge. In a word, Scio was a multiplied Coliseum, whose arena was covered with the carcases of Turk and Sciot, Peloponnessian and far off foreigner.

THE soldier's profession is a stern calling, and callous must be his heart, who can view the apparently necessary crimes of the warrior, without dropping a solitary tear over human suffering, and depravity; and still more inhuman must he be, who can gaze unmoved upon the remains of a once vigorous body which his own hand has consigned to an early tomb. But what epithet sufficiently harsh can be found in the whole vocabulary of language, that can with strict justice express the character of those, who add wantonness to cruelty, who feast their eyes upon their victims writhing in keen agony, who make the death of those victims a secondary object, but their torture, their sweetest pastime? Decency in combination with villainy may not be deemed a perfect absurdity; and while the feeling heart bleeds at the stern necessity, the victim must be sacrificed, and here the catastrophe ends. But when insult is heaped upon the innocent dead, when overgrown barbarity vents itself in the