council; and at the end of your voyage you will meet with evidence that man is not altogether a beast of prey, but that there are Christian men and women who love their race, and labor to do them good. The quarantine ground, where the boat makes her first landing, is on the northeastern point of Staten Island, five and a half miles from the Battery; having a front of about fourteen hundred feet on the bay, and a depth of about twelve hundred. A high brick wall includes hospitals for the sick, and dwellings and offices for the resident physician, and other persons employed on the premises. The gate-keeper is occupied in an examination of the pockets, &c., of two females, who seek admission to visit some friends in the hospitals; he must ascertain if they have secreted about their persons ardent spirits or other contraband articles. The depraved appetites of many of the patients, and the mistaken kindness of their friends, make such a search absolutely necessary; and the gate-keeper does his duty with as much regard for modesty as possible. These daughters of Eve seem to have no such forbidden fruit, wherewith to tempt the children of Adam; so they are permitted to pass on, and the janitor turns to attend to you. You ask if you can be admitted; he answers, Not unless you have some business to attend to;-you reply, that you wish to make some inquiries about the institution, its regulations, &c.; and he refers you to the office of the resident physician, at a little distance. This gentleman, or one of his assistants, gives you a courteous reception, and politely answers your questions. You learn that the largest hospital, that nearest the water, is occupied by fever patients. It is of brick, three stories high, one hundred and thirtysix feet long by twenty-eight feet wide. The next, on rising ground, is for the convalescent. It is built of the same material, three stories high, fifty feet long, with two wings, sixty-six by twenty-six feet each. Still higher up is the smallpox hospital, which generally has the largest number of patients. It has but two stories, and is eighty feet long and twenty-eight feet wide like the others, it is of brick, and has open galleries on the outside in front and rear. The object of the establishment is to prevent the admission of contagious diseases into the city a purpose which it undoubtedly answers,

as far as can reasonably be expected. Its officers, however, incur much risk in the discharge of their duties, and not unfrequently fall victims to disease. It is but a few years since a much-esteemed friend of the writer, just after his appointment as assistant physician, was carried off by ship-fever. He was a man of more than ordinary talent and skill in his profession; cheerful, noble-hearted, and of undoubted piety. His career was brief-but those who knew him well will not soon forget him, or cease to mourn his premature death.

As we leave the quarantine ground, our attention is attracted to a vessel just arrived, which we are told has more than eight hundred emigrants on board. The health officer is just boarding her to ascertain the state of her passengers. Soon they will be citizens of the land of freedomthe most of them dwellers in the far West. May their bright hopes not be disappointed.

The

As the other establishments on the island, which we propose to visit, are intended especially for the benefit of seamen, our thoughts are naturally occupied with their condition, and the provision made for their welfare. They are proverbially a generous, careless, credulous race; spending their money liberally, apt to yield to temptation, and hence become an easy prey to the numerous "land-sharks" who prowl about our maritime cities. sailor-landlord, or his runners, repair to the dock to meet him on his arrival-salute him by a familiar pat on the shoulder, or friendly shake of the hand, and persuade him to put up at their house. His baggage is removed from the ship, his wages received and deposited with the landlord, as he supposes for safe keeping. He drinks at his landlord's bar till his senses are confused; and when he begins to recover, is told that he has run up an account for board, lodging, liquor, &c., equal to, if not exceeding, the sum he deposited. He is enticed into places of gambling and prostitution, and robbed of what he may have in his possession. He is then reshipped, the landlord receives his advance wages to settle the balance of his account, and at the close of another voyage he returns to undergo the same vile impositions.

The American Seamen's Friend Society sought to remedy these evils by temperance societies, libraries, reading-rooms, schools, and by appeals to landlords; but their efforts were nearly fruitless. In 1837,

therefore, they rented a building, and opened a boarding-house, where the sailor would be honestly dealt with, guarded from evil influences, and induced to seek mental, moral, and religious privileges. The experiment was successful, and they resolved to erect a building where their object could be more effectually accomplished. They applied to the Legislature of the State for assistance, and obtained a loan of ten thousand dollars for five years, without interest. On the 14th of October, 1841, just twenty-two years from the day on which the corner-stone of the Mariners' Church in Roosevelt-street was laid, appropriate exercises were held on the occasion of the commencement of their new building in Cherry-street; and in 1842 it was completed at an expense of forty-two thousand dollars. It is of brick, with a granite basement, six stories high, fifty feet front and one hundred and sixty feet deep. It contains one hundred and thirty sleeping-rooms, a dining-room one hundred by twenty-five feet, a reading-room, a library, and a museum of natural curiosities and specimens of art collected from different parts of the world, and presented by sailors; about five hundred boarders can be accommodated at once; about four thousand annually find a home there. Family devotion is kept up by the superin

tendent, and a temperance society is organized among the boarders. The benefits of such an institution are evident; and it is no small credit to New-York, that, as she erected the first chapel for the exclusive use of mariners and their families, so also she founded the first home for seamen.

Such is the provision made for the welfare of the sailor while in health and vigor; but hardship, exposure, and dissipation make sad havoc with his constitution, and he needs a place to recruit his strength and recover his wasted health. This is afforded in the building which we have now reached. It is about a mile below the quarantine grounds, and occupies an elevated position about one hundred feet above the water. A sailor with but one leg guards the gate. He tells us we may enter, and, having crossed the beautiful lawn to the center door, we find on the left side of the hall the office. The superintendent and principal physician are absent, but an intelligent and polite assistant receives us, and seems to take pleasure in answering our inquiries. The history of the institution called the "Seamen's Retreat" is as follows:

In 1754, while the state was yet a colony, the city authorities imposed a tax upon sailors and passengers arriving at this port, for the support of a hospital for

quarantine purposes. In 1784 this tax was continued by the State Legislature. The amount realized being more than sufficient for the purpose specified, a surplus began to accrue, out of which considerable sums were granted to the House of Refuge and city dispensaries. There was also a manifest injustice done to the sailor, inasmuch as the Quarantine Hospital was closed from November to May; and although he had paid a hospital tax of $1 a voyage, he was, if sick during the intervening months, liable to be sent to the Alms-House as a pauper. A meeting of ship-masters and mariners was therefore held in 1830, and a committee appointed to petition the Legislature to cause the tax collected from seamen and passengers to be paid into separate funds, and applied to the support of separate hospitals. Such 1 a law was accordingly passed in 1831,

since which time the passengers have continued to pay their tax into the old mariner's fund for the support of the Quarantine Hospital, but the sailor pays his to the Seamen's Fund and Retreat.

In 1836 the trustees erected their building. Its location is beautiful, commanding a most extensive prospect. It is a noble edifice, constructed of rough granite, three stories high, and surrounded by piazzas; a library and cabinet occupy a room opposite the office; the wards are neat, and airy, and supplied with baths. A neat chapel is provided, where divine service is conducted by the chaplain, who is a minister of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and a member of the New-Jersey Conference. A temperance society was commenced nearly two years since, of which the superintendent, Captain James Hart, is president, and the chaplain sec

be a refuge for the "destitute sick or infirm mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, or widows of seamen." It was opened for inmates on the 2d of May last, and now contains twenty-five pensioners. Among these we find one who is eighty-four years of age, sitting in her neat room, sewing patch-work without glasses. She shows us a piece of canvas about four feet square on which she has embroidered the whole of the Declaration of Independence, with the names of its signers. At the top are the stripes and stars, and several other devices, all executed with a neatness and good taste which would do credit to any young lady. She copied it from the lid and bottom of a snuff-box, on which it is printed in letters so small that many younger eyes would be pained to read it.

The matron tells us that they had an oration on the 4th of July from the medical

gentleman who accompanies us, and that the Declaration of Independence was read by the chaplain of the Retreat, who conducts public worship in this institution also.

No other establishment like this Seamen's Retreat exists in the United States. Indeed, we know of none in the world which makes such provision for the sick mariner in the merchant service. There is, however, a Naval Hospital at the Wallabout, intended for the sick of the United States Navy.

We have seen what provisions are made for the benefit of the sailor in port, and when laboring under disease, as, also, for his destitute female relatives in sickness and infirmity. Let us turn our attention now to his case when old age or other causes render him incapable of pursuing his calling any longer. About three miles from the Quarantine, on the north side of Staten Island, is the Sailors' Snug Harbor.

It is in the midst of the loveliest rural scenery in the neighborhood of NewYork, surrounded with elegant villas, pretty cottages, and well-cultivated farms, and commanding a magnificent view, with the city in the distance. Unlike the other institutions we have described, this owes its origin to the liberality of an individual. Captain Randall, a prominent ship-master in the city of New-York, dying in 1801, bequeathed a piece of land in the upper part of the city for the foundation of a retreat for worn-out seamen. He appointed as trustees of his legacy the Chancellor of the State of New-York, the Mayor and Recorder of the city of New-York, the President and Vice-President of the Marine Society, the President of the Chamber of Commerce, and the senior ministers of the Episcopal and Presbyterian Churches.

Little did he dream that this small property could ever produce such magnificent results. In 1806 the annual income from the estate was but little more than $4,000; it is now, we believe, about $60,000. The grounds belonging to this institution comprise about one hundred and sixty acres, which are inclosed by a handsome iron fence that cost, a few years since, $35,000. The corner-stone of the building was laid in 1831, and it was opened for the reception of inmates on the 1st of August, 1833.

The center edifice is sixty-five by one hundred feet, with two wings fifty-one by one hundred feet, connected with the center by corridors. The material is brick, faced with white marble, with a marble portico. A chaplain officiates regularly in a room set apart for the purpose, and every provision is made for the comfort of the inmates. They find it indeed a "Snug Harbor," after the toils and tempests of life.

There are two handsome houses for the governor and physician, and extensive additions have recently been made, comprising a hospital for the sick and a refuge for the children of sailors, already containing more than one hundred little ones. In the center of the front court is a simple marble monument to the founder, whose remains rest beneath.

Such are some of the institutions designed principally for the temporal benefit of the seamen. There are others intended to supply his spiritual wants; but we can

not refer to them in this article. Enough, however, has been seen to convince us that New-York is not negligent of the welfare of those who contribute so greatly to her prosperity; and we shall return from our trip in improved spirits, and better humor with ourselves and the "rest of mankind."

MY RUSSET GOWN.
My russet gown is dear to me,

Though years have pass'd away
Since my young heart beat joyously
Beneath its folds of gray.
No jewels hung around my neck,
Or glitter'd in my hair;
With lightsome step I tript along,
My spirit knew no care:
The roses near my windows crept,

And shed their sweets around,
Hard was the bed on which I slept,

But yet my sleep was sound. My russet gown I laid aside

For one of rich brocade;
I thought, in my simplicity,

Its charm could never fade.
I left the cot where I had pass'd
My happy childhood years,

I left my aged father sad,

My mother was in tears;

I left them for a wealthy home,
To be a rich man's bride,
And thought that splendor would atone
For loss of all beside.

My russet gown, when next I gazed
Upon its somber hue,

Brought such a lesson to my heart,

Ah, sad as it was true.

Its simple neatness seem'd to mock
My silks and jewels gay,

And bore my wandering thoughts to those
Dear friends so far away.

I felt how fleeting were the joys
That wealth alone can buy,
And for that humble cottage home
My bosom heaved a sigh.

My russet gown I still have kept,
To check my growing pride;

A true though silent monitor,
My folly to deride.

And when I meet with faithless friends,
Among the giddy throng,

Whom vice and pleasure, in their train,
Drag heedlessly along,

I feel how gladly I would give
My coach and bed of down,
Once more in sweet content to live,
And wear my russet gown.

BENEVOLENCE.-There cannot be a more glorious object in creation than a human being, replete with benevolence, meditating in what manner he might render himself most acceptable to his Creator, by doing most good to his creatures.