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feared had caught the scarlet-fever. be gained from one shaded by adver Now it was that poor Lancaster found sity. As the poet says himself still vulnerable-found that he had not yet lost all; but that it was in the power of fate to render him still more wretched. As he jumped out of bed his wife thought she perceived a tear streaming down his cheek; he turned to the window, and throwing up his eyes, she distinctly heard him utter, "Spare me, O God of mercy, spare me !"

The funeral obsequies were performed for Seraph while the fate of Harriet remained doubtful. Every evening during a week the trembling parent feared that the ensuing morning should behold him childless. At length, however, it pleased providence that her disorder should take a favourable turn, and she began rapidily to recover. The heart of the enraptured father now overflowed with gratitude to heaven; he no longer murmured over the past, but thanked God for his present blessings. But, ah! not so the wretched mother, she still felt reflection's stab".

The first day that Harriet was able to leave her bed, she was visited by her step-mother, who taking her in her arms, gave her a truly maternal embrace; tears choaked the utterance of both, but though language was denied, affection spoke in their hearts, and was easily understood. From this time forth, Mrs. Lancaster uniformly behaved to Harriet as if she had been her own child.

Indeed the change which her husband so much wished to see effected in her, was now gradually taking place: alliction made her behold objects in their true light, and estimate the things of this world according to their proper value. So true it is, that half the wisdom cannot be acquired in a life of uniform prosperity, that may

Even should misfortunes come,
I here who sit have met with some,
And's thankful for them yet;
They give the wit of age to youth,
They make us ken oursel',
They let us see the naked truth,
The real good from ill.

Through a remote part of Captain Lancaster's garden ran a murmuring brook, which was skirted on each side by a thick wood. As soon as Mrs. Lancaster's grief was somewhat mellowed by time, she a little diverted her mind by giving directions a bout the embellishment of a spot in this wood, which she intended should be kept sacred to the memory of her departed child. She ordered some trees to be taken away, leaving a clear circular space, in the middle of which she caused an urn of the purest white marble, to be erected: round which was inscribed, in black letters, "Sacred to the memory of an early victim of affection, Seraphina Lancaster, aged four years and eight months.

This spot, which is carpeted by the softest moss, is entirely circumscribed, and shut in by tall trees, the waving foliage of which, by partly obscuring the light, gives it an awful and gloomy appearance, while the gurgling of the stream, which flows close behind their roots on one side, inspires a still and solemn feeling.

The velvet carpet is embroidered by nature's hand with bunches of violets and water-lilies. Various wildflowers cluster about the roots of the old trees, among which evergreens and flowering shrubs, are thickly plan ed.

The creeping rose, and some scarlet honey-suckles, to which Seraph had been particularly partial, were time twined their branches round it. planted at the base of the urn, and in

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To this spot for the remainder of her life, did Mrs. Lancaster retire to the exercise of her devotions; to contemplate, to weep, and to purify her heart.

Three years after the decease of Seraph, Harriet was united to the man of her own and her father's choice; one who proved every way worthy of her.

Mrs. Lancaster brought her husband two boys, but never had another female child. She has spent a great part of the last twenty years of her life in reading and cultivating her mind; of beauty she thinks not, nor has she ever shewed the least symptom of vanity since the death of her beloved daughter. The fond husband declares that she is handsomer than she was when he first saw her; he says goodness speaks in every softened look, and that an enlightened mind now beams in her intelligent countenance. In short, she is now his friend and rational companion; and truly have they both experienced, that those "whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth."

D. D.

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appearing red and likely to blister. I, at length, spread a plaister of burgundy pitch, softened with a little oil, which I had long kept in the house to dress slight wounds, and applied it, merely because I happened to think of it, and soon forgot my burn, and when I again recollected it several hours afterwards, it immediately excited an inquiry for the cause of so speedy and unexpected relief; which, on a little reflection, was solved by the following train of reasoning. The application of fire to the flesh begins the work of dissolution, which gives the feeling of pain, which the active principle in the common air is capable of continuing, and in order to stop its progress, nothing more is necessary than the close application of any convenient substance capable of acting as a non conductor,

The convenience of the application consists in its being easily, and quickly applied; not so hard as to be uneasy to the part, nor yet so soft as to melt away with the heat of the flesh. To answer all these purposes I have adopted the admixture of an ounce of bee's wax, to four ounces of burgun y pitch, and less than a spoonful of sweet oil. Lard or fresh butter is perhaps as good as oil. In this way I have ever since, with uniform success, treated burns or scalds whenever they have happened in my family and neighbourhood. I have found this plaister equally effectual in easing the smart of a blister drawn with the Spanish fly. In every instance, where I have known it used, it immediately eases the smart, and finally heals the part affected. My own happy experience of its efficacy indu ces me to wish for the sake of suffering infants in particular, as well as others, that this remedy might be brought into general use, but I have hitherto neglected giving it that pub.

licity which I am fully assured it
H. B.

Hudson, State of New-York.

Of the many prevailing evils that distinguish the character of the present day, that of the too frequent use of spirituous liquors appears to be one of the foremost and not the least destructive. It seems to have found its way into almost every cir

: For the Belfast Monthly Magazine.

ON THE DANGERS OF INTEMPERANCE, cle, and too few are sufficiently aware of the danger of encouraging a prac. tice so injurious in its consequences.


Its free introduction upon almost every occasion, as is now very commonly the case, is much to be lamented, and cannot be too earnestly remonstrated against by the friends of good order, who feel interested in all that concerns the welfare of society, and rejoice at any step tending to an advancement from the present corruption of manners. If a few individuals chance to meet, or wish to converse together for any length, of time, or have occasion to transact any little business, it is too commonly the practice to introduce the tumbler and glass, as if it was a custom absolutely necessary and could not be dispensed with, and as if the degrees of sociability were more advantageously extended by the practice.

ONE NE use of a periodical publication is, the opportunity it affords to individuals, who are not altogether heedless spectators of passing events, of conveying their ideas on some matters that may, in the course of their observations, become the subEjects of their attention; and surely the pages of a periodical print published professedly for the of purpose extending useful knowledge, and ad=vocating the cause of virtue, should ever be open to the free introduction of whatever may have a tendency in endeavouring to point out, how simple soever the manner may be, (and I ain at nothing more) what may be apprehended inimical to the progress of pure morality, as it is on this the welfare of nations, and of individuals so very materially depends. A pure morality (which in my opinion is only another name for true religion. I cannot make a distinction,) embraces every duty we owe to God, to ourselves, and to our fellow-men.


I much fear that many by entertaining loose ideas of the nature of morality, are led into liberties which by degrees may sink into very destructive habits, and eventually tend to their irrecoverable ruin.

Those who are in any degree attentive to the passing events of the age in which we live, will have mournfully to acknowledge the many deficiencies that mark the present order of things from the highest to the lowest, with respect to a sound morality, and which powerfully operate to retard its progress.

Great caution is necessary, lest what is begun in harmless intention may end in a serious evil. It is dangerous to meddle with the practice. Surely to quicken the pleasures of real sociability, and strengthen the bonds of genuine fellowship, it requires no such stimulus. They can better subsist without it. By falling in with the practice, though but seldom at first indulged, a fondness for the intoxicating draught may be acquired, and a relish for improper company may encourage this fondness, for it generally happens in such cases, an over-scrupulous attention is not paid in the choice of company. Thus led on from one degree to another, a confirmed habit of drunkenness and vice is in many instances the doleful con

sequence, which many in their begin nings would have looked on with dismay and abhorrence, and be ready to reply to any willing to reason with them on the dangerous consequences of compliances to wrong practices, "What, is thy servant a dog that he should do such a thing?" Such is the deceitful tendency of joining hands in anywise with evil habits; the danger powerfully points out the dis, trust we should always have of ourselves. in

pany they keep. If they are sufficiently attentive in this particular they will find few with whom they can intimately associate, with any degree of safety. How many promising youths have been ruined, and lost to themselves and to usefulness by the habit of keeping evil company. Flee, entreat you from this des tructive share, as from the hands of a most dangerous foe, ye who value your present and future peace. "Evil communications corrupt good manners," is a truth many have found verified in their own sorrow

For young men whose prospects life may lead them to settle in large towns, I have great fears when I contemplate their perilous situations, surrounded with innumerable evils and multitudes ready, on all sides to take every advantage of their youth, in nocence, and inexperience, to lead them astray from the simple path of welldoing, and entangle their feet in the snares of vice and folly. Of all the engines employed by the seducers of young and experienced persons, no one seems to be more effectual, or requires more to be dreaded than a habit of drinking. If they can once prevail upon them to be companions in the free indulgence of the cup, the end is in a great degree accomplished. The entrance to other vices is easy of access. It leads to almost every other evil and cannot be too strongly guarded against in its very first appear ances. But it requires some degree of strength and resolution to resist the many alluring baits cast in the way; by consenting at the first onset, though perhaps in instances comparatively trifling to what may follow, the way is laid for giving up in further exposures to future attacks, whereas by exercising a little care and resolution at first, how many inconveniences and dreadful consequences might be a voided. Young men cannot be too careful in the choice of the com- By vig'rous effort, and an honest aim,

ful experience when perhaps too late to remedy the diretul constinfluence, and many on account of quence. Example has a powerfu! the world's dread laugh," are afraid of not appearing as others do, or of d.ffering from generally received prac tices. Hence they indulge in all the fashionable follies that he within their reach, and many in the worst dissipation of the times.

In the gratification of these indulgencies, how many precious moments are idly thrown away that might be spent in the application to useful study, and acquiring and exercising that kind of prac tical knowledge, that would tura out to future good account, and enable as to discern our present real situations as accountable beings, and beings whose lives are as it were but a span.

"Oh! the dark days of vanity, while bere How tasteless, and how terrible when gone. Gone, they ne'er go, when past they haunt

us still,

The spirit walks of ev'ry day deceas'd,
And smiles an angel, or a fury frowns.
Nor death, nor life delights us. If time


And time possest, both pain us, what can please

That which the Deity to please ordain'd, Time us'd. The man who consecrates his hours

At once he draws the sting of life aud death,

He walks with nature, and her paths are peace,"

Ye who are treading the precarious path of life with inconsiderate steps, and rushing down the rapid stream of time with heedless impetuosity and mad career, pause; suffer yourselves to be arrested in the midst of your wild pursuits and imaginary dreams of pleasure with the important inquiry so beautifully alluded to, by the justly admired and celebrated author already quoted.

"Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours,

And ask them, what report they bore to heav'n,

And how they might have borne more welcome news."

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To converse with the deeds of our past hours and diligently and impartially to inquire how they have been spent, to what purpose have we lived, might be a means of exciting just consideration of the danger of trifling in matters so important, and teach us justly to appreciate the value of a right application of time towards securing the soul-solacing enjoyment of an approving mind, when all considerations of a sublunary nature are near to cease for ever,

Considering this, and the numberless and elaborate criticisms which have been written on profane authors, it is somewhat surprizing that the Bible has never been taken up by any one, as a work of taste. The sacred scriptures, viewed in this light, might furnish matter for a most interesting work. The sublimity of Isaiah, the pathos of Job, the v rious beauties of the book, of Psalms, and of different other passages of scripture, might afford a fine field for the observations of the critic. A work of this kind, executed by man of taste, might be productive of the most beneficial effects. It

and prospects of another kind open might draw the attention of the

to our view.

young and the gay to the sacred volume, by which means they might derive spiritual edification, whilst they received entertainment. I should be

"Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to defer."

N. S.

cients in the polite accomplishments" and in the ornamental branches of literature, who are yet ignorant of the first principles of religion, and of some of the leading facts contained in the sacred volume. It is really surprizing, independent of its divine inspiration-abstracted from its containing "the words of eternal life," that the variety and curiosity of the matter contained in the Bible, should not attract more attention. For in

dependent of its divine inspiration, it may be safely asserted, that the Bible is the most interesting book in the world.


Tis a melancholy fact, that in the present age, every kind of knowledge is more eagerly cultivated, than religious knowledge, and every an. cient book more carefully studied, than that book which contains a revelation of the will of God. It is not unusual to meet with persons who are profi

To the Editor of the Belfust Magazine. happy to find this subject taken up by some of your correspondents, capable of doing it justice. In the mean time, I subjoin a few critical observations, and a paraphrase on the twenty third Psalm, indulging the hope, that even this trifle, this widow's mite, may not be without its use.

The twenty-third Psalm is perhaps the most beautiful poetic composition to be found in any language. It con

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