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THE DANGEROUS DIFFERENCE.

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two years. And was George a believer in the Christian religion? Alas! a determined believer in all unbelief-a traitor to his honor and to his confi

heart, amidst the effervescence of the sparkling wine

cup.

liken your divinity to Virgil's ruler of the winds, seated upon his mountain throne, who, when he waved his sceptre, awoke the storm, called forth the voice of the hurricane, shook the caverns, and made the dwel-ding wife-lulling to sleep every finer feeling of the lers therein tremble. The Bible, the charter of life's dearest hopes, he styled the book of holy fables. Its heaven, that blessed rest from toil, where death never enters, and the tear drop never falls, he placed upon a level with the poet's myrtle bowers, cyprian shades, and soft elysian fields. In hell, as a place of positive suffering, he believed as much as he did in the communing of Ulysses with the spirits of darkness, in the regions of the Cimmerians. Untiring in his praise of classic authors, his motto was,

"Nocturna versate manu, versate diurna." "Read them by day, and study them by night." He loved to dwell in

"Tully's voice and Livy's pictured page' the masterly conceptions of Tacitus-the subduing sentiment of Sophocles-the originality of Scottthe graphic pencilings of Bulwer. He was passionately fond of Byron, read Pope with pleasure, and Bolingbroke with commendation; and if, by chance, Amelia became pensive, he would recommend for her perusal the tragedies of Voltaire, as deeply interesting and elevating.

And thus time rolled on-endeavors on the one part always tending to redoubled effort on the other to

"Make the wrong appear the better reason;" while these dangerous differences of opinion led to a visible estrangement of affection, an alternate disquietude-the reverse of happiness.

Such might not have been the case, at so early a period, had Amelia been more passive; but genuine regard sought untiringly the well-being of its object, which led her husband to declare that, for domestic harmony, there must be concession, and then, to violate his solemn promises, that he never would seek, by infidel sophistry, to sweep away the foundation of her hopes.

*

"I cannot bear that altered eye

Its hurried glance speaks hearts estranged;
Nor brook the cold, polite reply-

The words the same, the tone how changed!"

"The rem-
husband,

"A com

This was the salutation of Amelia, one evening,
after months of agonizing endurance.
edy is with yourself, madam," said her
coldly. "And what is it?" said Amelia.
pliance with my reasonable requests." And thus,
to win a heartless smile, the next evening finds her
beholding, with intense interest, the tragedy of
Othello; thence to the masquerade, and all the even-
ing entertainments of the elite of the fashionable
world. But this was only a pretended remedy for
a clouded brow and a cold heart; for he was a con-
stant declaimer against female devotion to fashion-
able amusements.

Two years had fled, yea, more than three times
VOL. VI.-12

Amelia had been a faithful, devoted wife, incessant in her attempts to win him to virtue and to God. And it was not until she saw him desert the domestic hearth, and seek his enjoyments elsewhere, that she made up her mind to sacrifice all personal feelings for the price of his love.

It is easy to turn aside from the narrow way, but not so easy to regain it. Amelia entered the flowery path of pleasure-ventured forward step by step-her views became confused and dark-her enjoyments recollections of the past-the sunlight had faded from her vision-she had nowhere to go for peace and comfort, save as she gazed with a mother's fondness upon a smiling group of little ones, sporting away life, with glad hearts and voices, amid sunshine and flowers. Then, with a smile and a tear blending upon the cheek, she would say, "I am happy still."

But ah! a few years more sped on, and the spoiler set his seal of silence there. These lovely children, one after another, were riven from her heart, and laid in the forbidding grave. O, what bitterness in life's cup! The husband awoke as from a dream to behold the anguish of his stricken wife. His heart, too, was pierced, and, in this distressing exigency, fain would he have presented some balm to alleviate her sorrows; but his philosophy afforded none; and, reproached by conscience, the sympathies of his nature found not utterance in language.

A tour was proposed for health and pleasure; and, amid the balmy zephyrs and stirring scenes of distant lands, health returned; but a cordial for the spirit was not found. A succession of unexpected and deep reverses of fortune led this erring child of disappointment back to the fold from whence she had strayed. And yet she endures life-a living mourner, standing on the wreck of every sublunary joy; yet knowing the extent of that almighty Power, which, out of

"Gloomy chaos, bid the harmonious universe appear," she is hoping on, and hoping ever. During these dark and trying scenes, often had she been favored with communications from her youthful and best friend, who, after leaving school, became the ornament of the parental dome-blessing and being blessed. Rank and fortune were at her command. But she was ever true to those principles riveted upon her heart in childhood; and yet she tarried there, to shed light upon the descending pathway of the beloved and revered.

But after a time, her devoted love to Christ led to relinquishment of that home with all its joys. And now, far over the distant deep, where woman

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dare not look from behind her purdah, much less enter the door of the sanctuary, she stands identified with a standard bearer of Israel, patiently suffering privations and toils, laboring to rend the vail of ignorance, elevate degraded humanity, and fix the eye of faith upon the radiant glories round Messiah's cross.

This is no picture of fancy. It is a summary relation of events connected with the deeply interesting history of the past, in which are mingled the results, good and evil, of early moral and religious culture. And were this an isolated instance of parental defect and indiscreet alliance, vain would be the object in presenting it. But as the mental eye ranges through the moral universe, how often does it rest upon similar exhibitions of yet more cheerless and aggravated character, enacted over and over again by the dramatis persone of our eventful and fallen world.

These blighted prospects, this fearful wreck of the heart's priceless treasures, can be avoided only by adopting the motto of our friend Allethe, implied in the following touching strains of the muse, which she frequently sang and exquisitely played:

"I cannot love the man who seeks
In fashion's giddy whirl to shine;
Whose tongue unmeaning flattery speaks;
Who worships at the world's vain shrine;
Who owns no principle of right,

Save what his country's laws embrace;
Who views as dark oblivious night

The grave-man's final resting place."

HANS BEUDIX.

THERE are a good many clever, ingenious, and singular compositions, that are yet, some way or other, allowed to get out of print. Perhaps it is from their shortness, or their age and anonymous negation of claim, or from their quaint and homely style, or from the unpretending import of subject. These compositions may yet possess philosophical truth, and be fraught with reflection and much ingenuity of inference, and suggestive of just and large thoughts.

of the most prominent character was "Hans Beudix." This name may be purely fictitious; or it may suggest a Dutch origin to the composition. I do not even recollect where the story was located; but, from the general tenor of circumstances, should suppose it to be in England.

Hans Beudix was a hind, or keeper of cattle, to a certain curate. Now, said curate had, in some personal matter, given mortal offense to his superior, as dean of the Church. There seems to have existed at this time a very arbitrary ecclesiastical authority, and by a decree, both plenary and summary, our curate was forthwith denounced, condemned, and sentenced; nor do we read of any "special pleading" on the occasion, but the fiat of the haughty superior seemed to be all that was necessary; and the sentence ran in this way: that the curate be deposed from his office; that he fall forfeit two hundred pounds-his dues of long standing-and lose for ever the favor of his dean. This was a hard penalty. He was, nevertheless, promised forgiveness upon certain conditions. The dean, we shall see, was a humorsome character. He thought himself very clever, more clever than he was; and he stipulated that the curate should propose to him three things at large-riddles-either on natural or civil subjects; and if in either of these he could convict him, by sound and acceptable arguments, that he, the dean, was incapable, ignorant, and insufficient to explain it, then should the curate stand excused and forgiven, and be restored to favor and office, as heretofore.

These conditions seemed, to the dejected and bewildered mind of the poor curate, but an aggravation of the case-a mockery upon the severity of his

sentence.

It is said that necessity sharpens the wits. It probably does so at the ultimate stage of disaster: where there is all to hope and nothing to fear, decision is easy and vigorous. But in a state of deprecation and doubt, and impending evil, the conflict of anxiety naturally impairs the clearness of the mind, which is thus disposed to judge through the feelIn a little, common-looking, old-fashioned bookings, and disqualifies the unfortunate sufferer from a miscellany-and containing no suitable company the use of his own powers. And hence, the excelto itself, I once came upon a production, which de-lency of prayer, even in a philosophical sense, and lighted by its novelty and its peculiar merit. This was a long while ago, and I may not be able to narrate the particulars of the story; and although I would wish

"Nothing to extenuate,

Nor aught to set down in malice;" yet, for want of memory, I shall assume the liberty to supply such remarks or motives, as I would deem consistent with the persons offering them.

The story was told in ballad. I recollect the name

* A quilted hanging let down before the door of the female apartment.

apart from any immediate relief bestowed-by its power of soothing down the disquiet of the spirits, and saying omnipotently to the waves of human passion, "Peace, be still!"

I fear the curate did not pray at this time--at least, the legend does not say so-but he did the next thing to it: he walked forth amidst the cooling and salubrious fields of nature; the effect of which is, to impart a sympathetic expansion, which relieves the mind of that intense pressure which anxiety ever produces, and subdues the worried spirits to its own calmness. And thus he was measurably comforted.

There had been given him some little time in

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which to prepare his questions; so, "chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancy," he performed his "Peripatetic" study of the problems.

acceptable to the self-love of those addressed. "I have turned this matter pretty well over," said he, "and if you would trust to me, I think I could get you off. I have two propositions, to which, I think, in the nature of things, he cannot balk me; and, for the third, if neither you nor I can supply it before the time, we must trust to the exigency of the occasion and goodness of our cause, that it be vouchsafed to us. People are very fond to say,

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Between the cup and the lip,
There is many a slip.'

This is a mere vaunting of human prudence. Why not take the opposite of this, and trust in God? It may graciously be given us in that self-same hour what we shall say.' Now, you are so much discom

me your coat and wig, and with my best manners, I will try and get round his worship. Though I am not in the habit of deceiving, yet I may, for once," said he, giving a sly turn of humor to the subject, "personate your Reverence, without committing any very great fraud:" and here they both laughed; and, thus the matter was agreed on.

And, by "good luck," he met on his way one whose friendship by good services he had naturally conciliated. This was Hans Beudix, the hind; and he communicated to him his distress; for misfortune, whilst it seeks for sympathy, also inclines us to be humble and communicative. Now Hans, in his lowly station, though ignorant and untaught, was not stupid; but, on the contrary, possessed a sprightly, inquiring, and thoughtful mind; and, withal, was a noble fellow, zealous in redress, and unsparing of self, wherein he could serve another. Besides this, he possessed one capital advantage over his friend in the present case; for he was self-possessed; unde-posed, that it is my plan to speak for you; so lend siring, and cared not a pin for those things which disturb us in the possession, lest "they take to themselves wings and fly away." There were no such birds as these in Hans Beudix's aviary. And with these goodly dispositions by nature, he had always been a hind; and after the free manner of his life, was he built up in purity, and strength, and innocence. "Cheer up, my man," said he, "and by the blessing of heaven, we will work it out." And then, conversing awhile, he got all the particulars of the case; and thinking them over and over, by and by he fetches up-from under that old wool hat of his-he fetches up some notions that had been stored away there, "until called for "-and now they were called. "You are wronged," says he, "but let us fix all things in shape, and, by the expiration of the term, I think we shall be ready for my lord dean. In the meantime, keep up a good heart, and be complaisant enough, and not too much so; for so you may give advantage, or may suggest imposition upon yourself. But be really as cheerful as possible; for a sullen spirit is but an ungaining state, and does no good. Look to the Lord, make your best effort, and resolve to take the event just as it may happen, for good or for evil, knowing that you can do no more. So our curate departed home, much more cheerful than he had left it; and it might be said that he was resigned, if not reconciled. After regaling himself with meat, he retired to bed, revolving many things, yet fixing on none, lest, by some oversight, he commit his chance in the issue: and thus musing, he fell asleep.

Now, many a person, may-be, is pitying our curate, who has not himself a good appetite to his victuals, and cannot sleep well-by which tokens, we may judge that our curate, though sorrowful and perplexed, was not at the worst.

Early next morning, he resorted again to Hans Beudix, who, seeing him not yet assured, "let on" at once to his plans. And, in doing this, though the hind spoke with a certain authority of ability, yet this was tempered by an habitual modesty and deference becoming to his own character, and always

On the next day, which was the appointed time of trial, Hans, personating the curate, was shown into the chamber of the dean, there sitting in state to adjudge the culprit; and, luckily for his disguise, it so happened that the chamber was darkened, for the reverend patient was entertaining the gout.

There are some things that one dislikes to say in regard to certain persons; but there was, also, another sort of disguise that helped out the case. We see that the dean was an unworthy Churchman-but as this thing happened long before the "Temperance Edict" was promulgated, it could never be said that his worship infringed that law. But as was said, the room was darkened-as well as its occupant-and he graciously apologized for this by saying to his visitor, "You have no such troublesome guest as this at your house." To which he replied, "A salary of forty pounds a year, sir, will hardly afford such a luxury." This was an indiscreet freedom; and, it is only justice to Hans to say, that he made the remark only to keep up his disguise of curate. The dean frowningly rebuked his boldness, by saying, coldly, ""Twill, may-be, be less, before it is more." And here it may be observed, that, however the great affect to bestow their jests upon the humble, yet this is a liberty that must never be reciprocated. Though familiar in approach themselves, yet to their inferiors they prescribe a distance, which must never be infringed. Hence, the meanness of seeking acquaintanceship where disparity of circumstances renders equality impossible.

But to the story. The first problem came on in this way, "In what way does a man travel more than a thousand miles a day and find himself at home by night?" Observe, in those days neither steamcars, nor steamships had been dreamed of.

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CHEMISTRY FOR GIRLS.

"In what way! troth, sir wiseacre, why, he rode the broomstick with a witch, to be sure!" Pausing awhile, he added, with reluctant civility, "But, maybe, you know more about this matter than I do, so tell me."

Our hind was both too humble and too dignified to betray anger at this sally; and, indeed, he felt none, for he perceived that it was the chagrin of defeat that occasioned it. So, with a grave respect, he went on to say, "The daily rotation of the earth makes a distance of about twenty-five thousand miles, and all men, in their places, perform this journey once in twenty-four hours. Don't they, sir?"

The dean had a look between a lively surprise and a blank nonplus. After awhile, assuming a careless air, he said, "Well, sir curate, let that pass, and go on to another, in which there shall be no let off."

"Supposing it lawful to sell one's life; yet no man's life is worth more than a hundred pounds; and your worship will not contradict me."

"But I do contradict you; every honest man's life is worth more than a hundred pounds;" cried the excited dean.

"But," says the curate, "the life of our Divine Master was sold for thirty pieces of silver. Can a man's life be worth more than God's?" he added, with solemnity.

The face of the dean was still blanker; the surprise, too, deepened. "Ah! sir curate, you are too subtil for me now; but the third trial remains, and in that you will find yourself mistaken, sir curate." Now this "sir-ing" was a way the dean had when he was miffed, or in an ill-humor with his inferiors. Here a sudden light broke upon the curate. To say truth, he was a little touched, too, and he replied, sprightly, "Yes, your worship, I am mistaken; but, it is yourself who mistake me, for, throughout all this conversation, you have believed me to be, and have repeatedly called me 'curate;' (and he quietly noted in his heart, that a derisive spirit is a self-betraying one;) and I convict your worship of a third mistake. I am not the curate," said he, throwing off his disguise, "but only Hans Beudix, his hind."

Outdone with this latter discovery, the dean suddenly changes his humor, and extending a hand to the hind, he says, "Nevertheless, you are a fine fellow; and since you have acted for the curate, (seeming to forget the conditions,) you shall have the two hundred pounds which belonged to him."

"But that will I not, your worship," says the hind, "for the curate is my kind friend, and has paid me well for my services, for many a long year. If I am poor, I need nothing, for I have all that I wish for."

"But you are not poor," says the dean, struck with sudden admiration, "for your heart is in the right place. And since you will not take the curate's money, ask what you will of me, in reason, and it shall be granted."

"Grant, then, that this little matter betwixt

yourself and your servant, the curate, be gotten over, bestow upon him your confidence, and restore him to his office in the Church."

"Be it so," says the dean, "for I can do nothing else to please you. But you and I will, henceforth, be better acquainted."

A fine fellow was Hans Beudix!

CHEMISTRY FOR GIRLS.

BY THE EDITOR.

-

THIS is properly styled a utilitarian age; for the inquiry, "What profit?" meets us everywhere. It has even entered the temples of learning, and attempted to thrust out important studies, because their immediate connection with hard money profits cannot be demonstrated. There is one spot, however, into which it has not so generally intruded itself—the female academy-the last refuge of the fine arts and the fine follies. Thither young ladies are too frequently sent merely to learn how to dress tastefully, walk gracefully, play upon the piano, write French, and make waxen plums and silken spiders-all pretty, surely; but why not inquire, What profit? But I take my pen in hand, not to utter a dissertation on female education, but to insist that young ladies be taught chemistry. They will be thereby better qualified to superintend domestic affairs, guard against many accidents to which households are subject, and perhaps be instrumental in saving life. We illustrate the last remark by reference merely to toxicology.

The strong acids, such as the nitric, muriatic, and sulphuric, are virulent poisons, yet frequently used in medicine and the mechanic arts. Suppose a child, in his rambles among the neighbors, enter a cabinet shop and find a saucer of aqua-fortis (nitric acid) upon the work-bench, and in his sport suddenly seize and drink a portion of it. He is conveyed home in great agony. The physician is sent for; but ere he arrives the child is a corpse. Now, as the mother presses the cold clay to her breast and lips for the last time, how will her anguish be aggravated to know that in her medicine-chest, or drawer, was some calcined magnesia,* which, if timely administered, would have surely saved her lovely, perchance her first and only boy. O, what are all the boquets and fine dresses in the world to her, compared with such knowledge!

Take another case. A husband returning home, one summer afternoon, desires some acidulous drink. Opening a cupboard, he sees a small box labeled "salts of lemon," and making a solution of this, he

*This is the antidote for all the acids named. It forms with them innocent neutral salts. Calcined magnesia is better than the carbonate, because the carbonate might occasion an unpleasant distension of the stomach. If magnesia is not at hand, some other alkali will answer.

LAKE OF GALILEE.

drinks it freely. Presently he feels distress, sends for his wife, and ascertains that he has drank a solution of oxalic acid, which she had procured to take stains from linen. The physician is sent for; but the unavoidable delay attending his arrival is fatal. When he arrives, perhaps he sees upon the very table on which the weeping widow bows her head, a piece of chalk,* which, if given in time, would have certainly prevented any mischief from the poison.

Corrosive sublimate is the article generally used by domestics to destroy the vermin which sometimes infest our couches. A solution of it is left upon the chamber floor in the teacup, when the domestics go down to dine, leaving the children up stairs at play: the infant crawls to the teacup and drinks. Now, what think you would be the mother's joy, if, having studied chemistry, she instantly called to recollection the well ascertained fact, that there is, in the hen's nest,† an antidote to this poison? She sends for some eggs, and breaking them, administers the whites, (albumen.) Her child recovers, and she weeps for joy. Talk not to her of novels. One little book of natural science has been worth, to her, more than all the novels in the world.

Physicians in the country rarely carry scales with them to weigh their prescriptions. They administer medicines by guess, from a teaspoon or the point of a knife. Suppose a common case. A physician, in a hurry, leaves an over-dose of tartar emetic, (generally the first prescription in cases of bilious fever,) and pursues his way to see another patient ten miles distant. The medicine is duly administered, and the man is poisoned. When the case becomes alarming, one messenger is dispatched for the doctor, and another to call in the neighbors to see the sufferer die. Now there is, in a canister in the kitchen cupboard, and on a tree that grows by the door, a remedy for this distress and alarm-a sure means of saving the sick man from the threatened death. A strong decoction of young hyson tea, oak bark, or any other astringent vegetable, will change tartar emetic into an innocuous compound.

Vessels of copper often give rise to poisoning. Though this metal undergoes but little change in a dry atmosphere, it is rusted if moisture be present, and its surface becomes lined with a green substance-carbonate of the peroxide of copper, a poisonous compound.

It has sometimes happened that a mother has, for want of this knowledge, poisoned her family. Sourkrout that had been permitted to stand some time in a copper vessel, has produced death in a few hours. Cooks sometimes permit pickles to remain in cop

* Chalk is carbonate of lime. Oxalic acid will unite with the lime, and make oxalate of lime, an insoluble, and, therefore, inert compound.

† Corrosive sublimate is a deuto chloride of mercury. Albumen attracts one portion of its chlorine, and reduces it to the proto chloride, which is calomel.

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per vessels, that they may acquire a rich green color, which they do by absorbing poison.* Families have often been thrown into disease by eating such dainties, and may have died, in some instances, without suspecting the cause. That lady has certainly some reason to congratulate herself upon her education, if, under such circumstances, she knows that pickles, rendered green by verdigris, are poisonous, and that Orfila has proved albumen to be the proper antidote to them.

Lead, (often used for drinking vessels and con{duits,) if, when in contact with water, it is exposed to the air, yields carbonate of lead (the white lead of the shops.) It is surprising that the neutral salts in water retard this process, and that some salts seem to prevent it entirely: hence, the water of Edinburg may be safely used, though kept in leaden cisterns; and the water of the Ohio is conveyed to the inhabitants of this city with impunity in leaden pipes. Nev{ertheless, salts of lead may be formed under circumstances not unlikely to occur. Moreover, the acetate of lead is often used to sweeten wine; and the lady acquainted with the affinities of the metal, and the properties and antidotes of its compounds, may have occasion for her information. She will be able by means of articles always at hand-such as epsom salts, or glauber salts—to render the poisonous salts of lead inert. For the soluble sulphates brought in contact with them, will always give rise to the formation of the sulphate of lead, which is insoluble, and without any pernicious properties.

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Illustrations might be very readily multiplied; but our space forbids. We conclude by saying, that poisons always produce secondary effects, which antidotes, however perfect, do not prevent. In all cases of poisoning, therefore, the administration of antidotes should not prevent the calling of a doctor.

LAKE OF GALILEE.

BY WILLIAM BAXTER.

CALM lake of Galilee! upon thy shore

The Savior first his humble followers sought,
And on thy bosom faith's pure lessons taught,
Amid the wind and water's mingled roar.
Fear seiz'd the tremblers when the storm raged high:
Faithless and doubting, on the deck they stand,
The wild waves' sport: far distant from the land,
All hope seems lost; but, lo! the Master's nigh.
Calmly he stands upon that vessel's prow:

He speaks the waves obey his high behest-
Cease their wild sport, and gently sink to rest,
And joy sits smiling on each follower's brow.
Thus, when the waves of passion, in my breast,
Rise high, O Savior, bid them sink to rest.

* Acetic acid, with oxide of copper, constitutes verdigris,

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