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FOR 1841.

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B 6 S T O 5* :

9 O ' I **


1841. /


Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1840.


in the clerk's office of the District Court of Massachusetts.

P R .3 S ( . F

21 Devonshire Street.


THE flowers of summer are faded, the rose
of May and the fragrant wilding of June are
gone to the decay which so early awaited them,
and upon the yellow fields are now withering
the last frail blossoms of the year. We trust
that at this season our " ROSE " will not be
an unregarded offering. We dare hope, also,
that it will in some degree fulfil the expectations
of those who kindly encouraged our first at-
tempt to secure for it a permanent place among
the chosen flowers of Literature.

We are aware that the indulgence which was
daimed for our first effort cannot so well be
solicited for the volume which we now offer ;
yet we trust our readers will remember that


the experience of one trial cannot teach per-
fection ; that improvement is continuous and
unending ; and that every effort teaches its les-
son equally by rewards and corrections.

There is always a little embarrassment felt
in introducing a work to the favor of the public,
particularly a work made up alike of the rich
offerings of others, whose value we know, and
the humble efforts of ourselves, of whose worth
we may well be in doubt. Faultless, we are
aware, the " ROSE " is not ; but we console our-
selves with the oft-quoted and ever-true couplet
of the poet,

" Whoever thinks ^-faultless work to see,
Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be ! "

In the arrangement of a miscellaneous work,

O *

particularly one of a religious nature, there are
many tastes to be consulted, at the same time
that the general character of the work is sus-
tained. Some will choose the humorous vein,
and some the solemn ; some the chastely plain,
and some the richly poetic ; others, again, will
say, " give us variety" To this last request


we answer, where the general tone is design-
edly religious, the variety must be chiefly found
in style and theme ; and a collection from
the writings of various contributors cannot well,
in this respect, be deficient.

The religion embodied in this volume has
no restrictions of creed. It goes abroad to all
that is beautiful in nature, all that is sweet and
holy in the human affections. We do not be-
lieve piety is made up of technical phrases, nor
that every thing which is religious is conveyed
in solemn and saddening words. The heart
finds sanctity in a tale of suffering love, and in
a narrative of high and heroic purpose ; it
finds a chastening sweetness in the songs of
innocent affection no less, perhaps, than in
mournful, elegiac melodies ; and it is even more
richly blessed by the beautiful and eloquent les-
sons brought forth from the mountains and from
the sea, from the quiet stream and the solemn
woodland, from the face of holy childhood and
the gentle countenance of Christian hope, than
by erudite and logical demonstrations of doc-


trine, or by the most surprising revelations of
the mysteries of theology.

The friends who have lent their welcome aid
to the accomplishment of our task are remem-
bered with earnest gratitude ; and our success,
we are sure, will be their best reward. May
we venture to express a hope that our future
need will be as promptly and kindly regarded
by them ? We would also observe that all
voluntary offerings will be very thankfully re-
ceived, and disposed of as we shall deem best
for the interests of the work.

September 1.



The Year Miss S. C. EDGARTON. 9

Leonore D'Este, MRS. L. J. B. CASE. 13

Pereene. A Tale of the West Indies .....MRS. C. M. SAWYER. 16

The Bride's Return MRS. JULIA H. SCOTT. 47


The Wood-Path Miss S. C. EDGARTON. 53

The Twin Sisters T. B. THAYER. 56

The Recall 72

Burns Miss M. A. DODD. 75

The Minstrel MRS. N. T. MUNROE. 79

Felicia Hemans HORACE GREELEY. 83

Forest Ramblers JULIET. 96

A Romance of Lake George 98

Religious Contemplation MRS. SARAH BROUGHTO N. 108

Sweet Spring Miss S. C. EDGARTON. Ill

Childhood HENRY BACON. 113

To a Butterfly MRS. C. M. SAWYER. 130

Searching the Scriptures., EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 131

The Hour of Success MRS. JULIA H. SCOTT. 135

The Rustic Wife Miss S. C. EDGARTON. 137

Tale of the Mountain Stream MRS. JULIA H. SCOTT. 166

Devotional Love S. C. E. 170

The Faded Flower Miss M. A. DODD. 172

Christianity and the Human Affections O. A. SKINNER. 174

The Sacraments , S. C. E. 183

Autumn..., .....MRS. SARAH BROUGHTON- 183


Mount Auburn Miss S. C. EDGARTON. 191

The Mother's Death J. G. ADAMS. 197

The Ruins of Tyre Miss S. C. EDGARTON. 199

Walter Mervyn Miss MARY ANN DODD. 201

The Unbidden Guest MRS. L. J. B. CASE. 221

ToaStar MIS.S S. C. EDGARTON. 224

Midnight Musings MRS. CAROLINE M. SAWYER. 227

Ten Years' Change J. G. ADAMS. 230

The Traveller MRS. N. T.MUNROE. 247

The Pilgrim S. C. E. 250

Thou 'rt like thy Mother, Child 252

A Dark Christmas A. B. GROSH. 254

Tales of Palestine FANNY. 265

The Tolling Bell MRS. JULIA H. SCOTT. 271

Love at the Grave S. C. E. 272

My Grave 274

Beauty of Modesty A. C. THOMAS. 275

Come away to the Bowers MRS. SARAH BROUGJTTON. 277

The Alpine Pastor 279

Mary's Choice E. H. CHAPIN. 294

Thoughts on the Deity S. C. E. 296

The Woodland Retreat Miss S. C. EDGARTON. 303

Frontispiece. Searching the Scriptures. Engraved by D. KIM-


Vignette Title. Engraved by O. PELTON ,

The Narrows, Lake George. Engraved by O. PELTON 98

Ruins of Tyre. Engraved by O. PELTON 199




" With what a glory comes and goes the year ! "

SPRING breathes within the vales;
The willow, drooping o'er the dimpling brook,
Puts forth her yellow flow r ers, and every nook
Of the green meadow, where the long grass trails,

Wears a sweet, sunny look.

The small, white violets

Perfume the air that hangs around the meads:
Pure, gentle flowers ; the fairest that Spring leads
Along her paths, the earliest that she sets

Among the brookside reeds.

The mosses in the wood
Are green and beautiful ; the forest flowers
Lift their bright heads within their budding bowers ;
And all the still and verdant solitude

Blesses the sunny hours.


The birds, upon the boughs
Of the young oaks, sing merrily away
The golden hours of every vernal day ;
And the whole forest, at its peaceful close,

Seems one sweet roundelay.

Then comes bright Summer on,
With low, soft breezes, and warm, fragrant showers,
With vines, and leafy shrubs, and countless flowers,
And radiant sunsets; and, when these are gone,

Soft, silvery moonlight hours.

Then the blue lakes are calm,
And the wild swans upon their waves repose,
And round their shores the tall, bright, wilding rose
Sheds its sweet perfume ; and the native balm

Beneath its shadow grows.

The humming-bird spins by,

Like some bright emerald, fledged with spirit-wings :
And where the hare-bell on the soft air rings,
The bee makes dreamy murmurs, blending nigh

With songs of springs.

The streams between the hills
Murmur delicious music as they pass,
And low, small, creeping plants, of every class,
Fill up the pebbly borders of the rills,

With flowers and tufted grass.

Hath Autumn gifts as fair 1
See the rich fruits o'erloading every tree,
The golden grain upon the upland lea,
The purple vineyards, and the mellow air,

So balmy and so free !


See the strange, gorgeous dyes
That flush the woodlands, and with glory fill
The brakes and shrubs that mantle every hill!
See where they color, too, the sunset skies

With radiance deeper still !

Go to the faded glen,

When the autumnal winds have stripped the bowers;
Search 'mid the withered leaves: are there not flowers'?
The blue-eyed gentian smileth even then,

Through the cold, gloomy hours!

Thy rich magnificence
Fades slowly and serenely into gloom,
Like gentle spirits, wearing toward the tomb,
Veiled in Hope's beautiful habiliments ;

Thus journeying slowly home.

And Winter, what hast thou
To twine within the garland of the Year ?
Where are thy vines and flowers, blooming or sere,
To bind around her venerable brow,

Thou tyrant, cold and drear 7

Ah ! Winter has her store :
See the bright jewels she has freely set
Within a snow-white, crystal coronet,
To crown the aged Year ! and even more

She bringeth freely yet :

Star-beams more purely bright
Than aught that gayer seasons can display;
Strange, flitting fires of many a mingled ray,
That haunt the pole-star with their spectral light,

And make a mimic day ;


Wild winds, that shake the clouds
Till the whole heavens seem reeling with the blast -,
White, feathery storms, that gently overcast
The bosoms of the hills with fairy shrouds

Too beautiful to last !

O, many gifts are thine,
Many for eye, and soul, and deep, deep heart !
A sweet divinity of homes, ihou art,
And ever ready at the fireside shrine

Love's offerings to impart.

Bright year! so manifold
Are thy rich glories and delicious tones :
Through various seasons, and in different zones,
Still art thou beautiful ; and, young or old,

Some charm thy being owns.



" There are few episodes in modern history on which so much has been
written, and which has furnished such a theme for dispute, as Torquato
Tasso's connection with the Princess Leonore D'Este. The evidences
that his passion was returned are most complete ; they are Leonore's own

THE lamps are dim, the banquet-room is lonely,

The voice of song hath died in hall and bower;
Italia's soft and starry midnight, only, '

Looks on her now, proud Este's peerless flower.
She sits alone: through the wide casement stealing,

The night-wind lifts her long and drooping hair,
With its light touch the mournful thought revealing.

That clouds her eye, and knits her forehead fair.

She hath been gay to-night, and, proudly veiling

Each troubled feeling with a joyous glance,
Hath met Alphonso's eye with look unquailing,

And led, the merriest, in the mazy dance.
But this hath passed, and love, too wildly cherished,

Again hath risen with subduing power,
And phantom forms of happiness that perished

Come dimly gliding through this lonely hour,


There 's wealth around her ; costly jewels, gleaming,

Clasp her fair neck, and band her regal brow :
Beauty, that lives but in the poet's dreaming,

Smiles from the marble walls upon her now:
She heeds it not ; each restless thought is roving

To a dark cell, where daylight seldom falls,
Where he, the lofty-minded and the loving,

Sees but the spider clothe the mouldy walls.

O, well to him may woman's love be given,
That lonely dreamer of immortal dreams ;

For founts, that rise amid the fields of heaven,
Have bathed his spirit with celestial streams ;

And he hath walked with radiant ones, whose dwelling-
Is in the land where beauty owns its birth ;

And the proud tales his lofty lyre is telling
Shall send undying echoes through the earth.

Thine is a clouded pathway, Genius : never

Upon thy dreary lot life's sunlight shines ;
Baptized in woe, and consecrated ever

To lead the worship at ideal shrines !
Ay, bind thy glorious visions on thy spirit;

Let them uplift thee o'er thy mournful fate :
With the proud mission that thou dost inherit

Is ever linked life sad and desolate.

And thou, who through long days of gloom dost languish.

And for thy soul's bright star in darkness pine,
Comes there no voice, upon thine hours of anguish,

To say, though far away, she still is thine 7
To say there 's one whose heart for thee beats only,

Though crowds are pleading her bright smile to share,


Who finds Ferrara's princely palace lonely,
Since thy blue eye and song are wanting there 7

Sad Leonore ! so long hast thou been turning,

With love's fond worship, to those soul-lit eyes,
That, to thy gaze, no other suns are burning ;

Earth hath no light save what within them lies.
Blest is thy love, though mournful, shedding ever,

Into thy depths of soul, its sunny ray,
And bringing bright illusions, that shall never

Fade in life's dark realities away !

Then gem thy golden tresses on the morrow.

And smile again in thine ancestral hall :
Earth's children know full many a sterner sorrow

Than on divided love may ever fall !
Your hearts are one; and thence perpetual gladness

Shall fling o'er life its soft and rainbow gleams;
For love hath power, through separation's sadness,

To wrap the spirit in elysian dreams.



THE most prominent incidents of the follow-
ing tale are the scarcely embellished narration
of facts which have, in reality, transpired. They
took place somewhat less than a century ago,
on the island of St. Christopher, and have con-
stituted the theme of more than one moving
and pathetic ballad. I have chosen them for the
foundation of my tale, as furnishing one more
addition to the catalogue of events illustrative
of that trite and much hackneyed expression,
" Truth is stranger than fiction."

It was morning : the sun was just rising over
one of the loveliest islands of the Caribbean sea,
illuminating the summits of its mountains, and
shedding its brilliant and gorgeous rays over a
landscape of rare and exquisite beauty. Exten-
sive fields of sugar-cane, growing to the height


of eight feet, and covered with beautiful arrowy
blossoms, lay thickly scattered through the
rich valleys, appearing in the sunlight like im-
mense sheets of waving gold gemmed with
tyrian purple. Interspersed with these planta-
tions were seen groves of lofty and magnificent
trees, whose beauty is unknown in any save
tropical climes. The palm-tree, the cocoa-nut,
and royal palmetto, with the tamarind, the
orange, and the graceful bamboo, lay grouped
together in the wildest luxuriance. Numerous
rivers, fed by a thousand rills, traversed the
island like threads of silver, while, higher up,
foaming cascades issued from the verdant sides
of the mountains, whose summits were crowned
with naked rocks piled together by the convul-
sions of nature, while the intervening spaces
were filled with evergreens and lofty trees,
among which the palmetto towered to the height
of two hundred feet.

On that part of the island which is more par-
ticularly the scene of this story, stood a dwelling
which was so far superior, both in its style and
extent, to the houses usually occupied by the
planters of the country, as to attract the imme-
diate observation of every stranger. Its lofty
verandas were twined with the choicest and
most beautiful lianas, and exhibited various arti-


cles of foreign luxury and wealth. In the ar-
rangement and keeping of the gardens which
surrounded the spacious mansion, there were
also pretensions to a taste and skill not displayed
elsewhere on the island. Numerous varieties of
fruit-trees not indigenous to the soil, interspersed
with those of a native growth, all carefully
pruned of every unsightly excrescence, graced
the enclosure, and bent down beneath their load
of fruit.

On the right of this mansion, and nearer to the
shore, stood a group of palm-trees, which bore
evident traces of careful attention. The under-
growth of ferns and lianas was, on the side near-
est to the shore, entirely cleared away, so that
while an almost impervious shade was afforded
by the tops of the trees, the view of the ocean
was entirely unobstructed. Just within the verge
of this group, and opening towards the shore,
stood an artificial arbor, completely canopied by
luxuriant vines of jessamine and grenadilla,
while oleanders and pomegranates were careful-
ly trained to its sides, and loaded the atmosphere
with their delicious fragrance. Numerous birds,
of gorgeous and variegated plumage, glanced
among the shining foliage, charming the ear with
their melodious warblings.

On the morning in which my story opens, two


persons might have been seen seated together in
this arbor, with their eyes intently fixed upon the
cloud of impenetrable mist which yet hung over
the bay, and hid, even from the keenest eye, all
within its bosom. The one was a youth, appa-
rently just in the opening dawn of manhood, and
who could not have numbered more than twenty
summers. The other was a girl of about sixteen.

But no one could have looked upon these per-
sons for a moment, without perceiving that they
were not only of a different lineage, but that
different countries had given them birth. In the
manly proportions of the youth, in his fair com-
plexion, bright blue eye, and frank, open counte-
nance, and, more than all, in his noble and
dauntless bearing, one conversant with the world
would at once have detected the Englishman,
and one, too, of the better class of society. Few,
perhaps, would, at first sight, have called him
eminently handsome ; but no one could have ob-
served him when engaged in conversation, and
noted the brilliant flashes of his eye, and the
animated expression of his whole countenance,
arid refused him that commendation.

But, however striking might have been the
attractions of the young man, they were eclipsed
by those of the fair being at his side. She was
indeed a creature of singular and exquisite beau-


ty ; such an one as is seldom, perhaps never,
seen in our more northern climes, but one which,
if once beheld could never be forgotten. Slight-
ly and gracefully formed, her proportions had
attained that beautiful roundness seldom found
united with her extreme youth, save in those
who first look upon the day beneath the burning
skies of the torrid zone. Her hair, of the
deepest black, fell in glossy and luxuriant ring-
lets over her neck, vividly contrasting its delicate
whiteness ; for, unlike most maidens born under
the equator, her complexion was extremely fair,
and the hue of her cheek more lovely than the
rose-tinted shells which lay scattered along the
glittering sands of that palmy shore. But it was
her eyes, large 1 and intensely black, which con-
stituted the singular charm of her countenance.
Those who have gazed into the glorious, yet
melancholy depths of the soft, dark eyes of Italy,
can alone conceive of the wild and mournful
beauty of those tender and appealing orbs which,
ever and anon, as she leaned confidingly on his
shoulder, the maiden raised to the face of her

Apparently, some subject of unusual interest
now engrossed their thoughts ; for neither of
them had for some time spoken, although the
tremulous motion of the young man's lips, as


well as the sudden suffusion of his eyes, when-
ever he withdrew his gaze from the shrouded
ocean and turned it upon his beautiful com-
panion, betrayed an effort to speak, while some
powerful emotion held him silent.

Meanwhile the sun had risen to some distance
above the horizon. Already the dew-drops
which glittered like diamonds upon the verdant
foliage, and upon the fairy-gossamer which cano-
pied the delicate plants, were rapidly exhaling,
when the vast cloud of mist which enveloped the
ocean began to waver. Huge volumes of vapor
rolled slowly and majestically upward, present-
ing, as they hung suspended in the horizon, a
strange and beautiful optical illusion. Distant
canoes appeared in the rosy and gorgeous clouds,
floating, as it were, in an aerial sea, while their
shadows, as if by some wonderful magic, were
accurately delineated below. They gradually
faded away, and, in a few minutes, disappeared,
leaving the whole heavens perfectly cloudless.

At the moment when the mist was rolling up
from the ocean, and before its crystal expanse
was clearly disclosed, the youthful pair, whom
we have described, sprang suddenly to their feet,
and the lady, slightly bending forward, raised
her arm in the direction of a vessel, scarcely
visible through the fading mist, which was riding


at anchor at some distance from the shore. " It
is there ! ' she exclaimed in a voice full of
stifled emotion. " The dreaded ship has arrived !
but, O, Clarens," she continued, turning to her
companion with an imploring earnestness, " heed
not the summons that would separate you from
me. How shall I live when I no longer hear
the sound of your voice, and no longer meet the
dear light of affection which beams from your
eyes ? You have taught me the language of
your distant land, and, ah, how vainly shall I
yearn to hear its accents ! You will return to
your splendid home, to your proud parents, who
would scorn an alliance with a West Indian girl ;
other and fairer forms than mine will meet your
eyes, and the poor Creole will be forgotten. O,
stay, stay, Clarens ! do not forsake me ! '

" Nay, hear me, my Pereene," answered
Clarens ; " I am summoned by my parents, who
have garnered up all their affections in me. I
am their only son, their only child, and, from the
earliest dawn of my existence, they have lavished
upon me a wealth of love and kindness which I
should be an ingrate, unworthy of your affection,
could I forget. Think of it, dearest, and you
cannot bid me stay ! Distrust not my affection,
for look at me, Pereene Heaven is not more
true than I have been, and will ever be, to you.


In a few months I shall return and proudly
bear you to my home, my chosen and cherished
bride. Torture not your heart with the false
idea that my parents would scorn an alliance
with you, for, though your mother was a Creole,
your father was descended from one of Italy's
proudest and most ancient lines. And, even
were it not so, the noblest lord in England, might
be proud to wed one so lovely and innocent as

With this address, Clarens tenderly encircled
the weeping Pereene with his arm, and as she,
abandoning herself to his caresses, looked up
smiling through her tears, he felt how weak


were all the ties of filial affection, compared with
those which bound him to the gentle and loving
creature at his side. And he felt, too, that, if he
would not quit the path which duty marked out
for him to pursue, he must shorten the parting
scene, and hasten away.

The vessel which was to convey Clarens to his
native land had arrived some weeks previous to
the present time, but had then merely touched at
the island where, on account of a temporary
illness, he had been for some time a resident,
and, after delivering the letters which had occa-
sioned his sudden resolution to depart, had pro-
ceeded, for purposes of traffic, to some of the
neighboring islands. It had now returned.

24 P E R E E N E .

For a long time, the lovers stood silently and
sorrowfully regarding the merchantman, while
its crew occupied themselves, some in the per-
formance of their duties about the vessel, and
others in hanging listlessly over its sides, and
gazing down into the transparent waters of the
Caribbean sea, through which, so wonderful is
its clearness, rocks of coral, beautiful shells, and
sea-weeds may be seen at the depth of sixty
fathoms, as distinctly as if there were no inter-
vening medium. A vertigo often seizes the
gazer, who feels as if looking down from the

o ' **3

summit of some lofty precipice.

A boat had, meanwhile, been let down from
the merchantman, and was soon making its way
to the shore. It was the one which was to con-
vey Clarens to the vessel ; and the sight aroused
the youthful pair from their silent abstraction.
Pereene clung to the arm of her lover, and wept,
unrestrainedly, such tears as she had never wept
before ; while the young man, with a quivering
lip and blanched cheek, vainly strove, by his
assurances of a speedy return, to soothe and
comfort her.

" Dear Clarens, do not chide me ! " she ex-
claimed. "I am, indeed, weak and childish;
but how can I look around me upon all the me-
mentoes of a happiness that I shall know no
more, and be as calm as you would have me ?


How can I reflect that the wide ocean will soon
roll between me and one who is dearer to me
than life, and keep back the choking tears ? Oh,
Clarens ! ' she continued, passionately wringing

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