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less and aspiring, his brain conceived it, his hand brought it into action.

Who is Blennerhassett? A native of Ireland, a man of letters, who fled from the storins of his own country, to find quiet in ours.

On his arrival in America, he retired, even from the population of the Atlantic States, and sought quiet and solitude in the bosom of our western forests. But he brought with him taste, and science, and wealth; and “lo, the desert smiled!" Possessing himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears upon it a palace, and decorates it with every romantic embellishment of fancy. A shrubbery, that Shenstone might have envied, blooms around him. Music, that might have charmed Calypso and her nymphs, is his. An extensive library spreads its treasures before him. A philosophical apparatus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of nature. Peace, tranquillity, and innocence shed their mingled delights around him. And, to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplishment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her love, and made him the father of several children.

The evidence would convince you, Sir, that this is but a faint picture of the real life. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and this tranquillity,—this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of the heart,-the destroyer comes. He comes to turn this paradise into a hell. Yet the flowers do not wither at his approach, and no monitory shuddering through the bosom of their unfortunate possessor warns him of the ruin that is coming upon him. A stranger presents himself. It is Aaron Burr. Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts, by the dignity and elegance of his demeanor, the light and beauty of his conversation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address. The conquest was not difficult. Innocence is ever simple and credulous. Conscious of no designs itself, it suspects none in others. It wears no guards before its breast. Every door and portal and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden when the serpent entered its bowers!

The prisoner, in a more engaging form, winding himself into the open and unpracticed heart of the unfortunate Blennerhassett, found but little difficulty in changing the native character of that heart, and the objects of its affection. By degrees, he infuses into it the poison of his own ambition. He breathes into it the fire of his own courage; a daring and desperate thirst for glory; an ardor, panting for all the storın, and bustle, and hurricane of life. In a short time, the whole man is changed, and every object of his former delight relinquished. No more he enjoys the tranquil scene: it has become fat and insipid to his taste. His books are abandoned. His retort and crucible are thrown aside. His shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance upon the air in vain-he likes it not. His ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music; it longs for the trumpet's clangor, and the cannon's roar. Even the prattle of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects him; and the angel smile of his wife, which hitherto touched hiv bosom with ecstasy so unspeakable, is now unfelt and unseen. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul. His imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, and stars, and garters, and titles of nobility. He has been taught to burn with restless emulation at the names of great heroes and conquerors -of Cromwell, and Cæsar, and Bonaparte. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse into a wilderness; and, in a few months, we find the tender and beautiful partner of his bosom, whom he lately permitted not the winds” of summer “to visit too roughly,"-we find her shivering, at midnight, on the wintry banks of the Ohio, and mingling her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell.

Yet this unfortunate man, thus deluded from his interest and his happiness,—thus seduced from the paths of innocence and peace, -thus confounded in the toils which were deliberately spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit and genius of another,-this man, thus ruined and undone, and made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of guilt and treason,-this man is to be called the principal offender; while he, by whom he was thus plunged in misery, is comparatively innocent, a mere accessory! Is this reason? Is it law? Is it humanity? Sir, neither the human heart nor the human understanding will bear a perversion so monstrous and absurd; so shocking to the soul; 80 revolting to reason!

TWO LITTLE ROGUES.- MRS. A. M. DIAZ.

66

Says Sammy to Dick,
Come, hurry! come quick!

And we'll do, and we'll do, and we'll do!
Our mammy's away,
She's gone for to stay,

And we'll make a great hullabaloo !
Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo !

We'll make a great hullabaloo."
Says Dicky to Sam,
“ All weddy I am

To do, and to do, and to do,
But how doesth it go?
I so ittle to know,

Thay, what be a hullabawoo
Ri too! ri loo! woo! woo! woo!

Thay, what be a hullaba woo?
"Oh, slammings and bangings,
And whingings and whanginys;

And very bad mischief we'll do!
We'll clatter and shout,
And knock things about,

And that's what 's a hullabaloo !
Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo!

And that's what's a hullabaloo !
“Slide down the front stairs!
Tip over the chairs !

Now into the pantry break through!
Pull down all the tin-ware,
And pretty things in there!

All aboard for a hullabaloo !
Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo!

All aboard for a hullabaloo!
"Now roll up the table,
Far up as you are able,

Chairs, sofa, big easy-chair too!
Put the lamps and the vases
In funny old places.

How's this for a hullabaloo ? Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo!

How's this for a hullabaloo?
“ Let the dishes and pans
Be the womans and mans;

Everybody keep still in their pew!
Mammy's gown I'll get next,
And preach you a text.

Dick! hush with your hullabaloo!
Ri too! ri loo! loo! loo! loo!

Dicky! hush with your hullabaloo !"
As the preacher in gown
Climbed up and looked down

His queer congregation to view,
Said Dicky to Sammy,
“Oh, dere comes our mammy!

She'll pank for dis hullabawoo! Ri too! ri loo! woo! woo! woo!

She'll pank for dis hullabawoo !” “O mammy! O mammy!" Cried Dicky and Sammy,

“We'll never again, certain true!" But with firm step she trod To take down the rod

Oh, then came a hullabaloo! Bohoo! bohoo! woo! woo! woo! Oh, then came a hullabaloo!

- From Our Young Folks.

SHADOWS.

Yes; I own I start at shadows;

Listen-I will tell you why (Life itself is but a taper,

Casting shadows till we die).
Once in Italy, at Florence,

I a radiant girl adored ;
When she came, she saw, she conquerod;

And by Cupid I was floored. “Mia cara Mandolina!

Are we not indeed,” I cried, "All the world to one another ?”

Mandolina smiled and sighed. Earth was Eden--she an angel-

I a Jupiter enshrined:

Till one night I saw a fatal

Double shadow on the blind.
Fire and fury! Double shadows

On their window curtains ne'er
To my knowledge have been cast by

Ladies virtuous as fair.
False and fickle Mandolina!

Fare thee well forevermore.
" Vengeance,” shrieked I,“ vengeance, vengeance!"

And I thundered at the door.
This event occurred next morning :-

Mandolina staring sat,
Stark-amazed, as out I stumbled,

Raving mad, without a hat.
Six weeks after I'd a ter,

On its road six weeks delayed,
With a dozen re-directions,

From the lost one. And it said,
“Foolish, wicked, cruel Albert!

Base, suspicious doubt resign.
Double lights throw double shadows.

Mandolina, ever thine.”
“ Heavens, what an ass !" I muttered,

“Not before to think of that.
And again I rushed excited

To the rail without my hat.
Mandolina! Mandolina!"

Rushing to her house, I cried.
'Pardon, dearest A.," she answered,
I'm the Russian Consul's bride."

KARL THE MARTYR.

It was the closing of a summer's day,
And trellised branches from encircling trees
Threw silver shadows o'er the golden space
Where groups of merry-hearted sons of toil
Were met to celebrate a village feast,
Casting away, in frolie sport, the cares
That ever press and crowd and leave their mark
Upon the brows of all whose bread is earned
By daily labor. 'Twas, perchance, the feast
of fav’rite saint, or anniversary

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