

"Why not master that apiielite?" You have 

 the power. Thousamis have proved it." 



"Sir, 1 l)elieve it. J Imve seen others as far re- 

 duced as myself restored and made liappy. But 

 you are thefirst wlio iias(;ver spoken to me upon 

 the suliject; .and 1 liad too stronic a passion for 

 liquor to thirdi of a refbrmalion myself." 



" Well, will you let me make the effort:" 



"I will. It has occii|)ied my thou!;hts during 

 tlie whole morning; and now, in the presence of 

 Ahnighty God, I swear never iijiain to touch the 

 accursed lliiiii; which has ruined me, and made 

 beesars of my family." 



Happy enoiiiih to hear this manly resolution, 

 we returned to the house with him; in due time 

 we made the fact known to the wife — and pro- 

 ducini; a \<\ei\f;ti, the whole Jhinihj signed il upon 

 the table which held the dead bod;/ of their child P' 



The scene was an affecting one. 



» JF » if # » * 



Two years had passed, when the incident was 

 recalled to oiu- nfmd by a shake of the hand from 

 a gentleman who was retmning west with a stock 

 of div goods which he had just purchased in 

 New York. // was the man who signed the temper- 

 ance pledge by the dead bodi/ of his child ! 



From the Boston Daily Advertiser. 

 Margaret's Song, i 



FKOM COETHF.'S FAUST. 



Reigned a monarch once in Tiiule, 



Constant even to the grave ; 



Whom his mistress loving truly, 



When slie died, a goblet gave. 



Nou^iht on earth so highly prizing, 



Oft lie drained it mid liis peers. 



And, as oft, her image rising, 



Made his fond eyes gush witli teara. 



So, his last when he was breathing, 



Summed he his possessions up. 



Freely to his heirs bequeathing 



Towns and towers — but not her cup. 



With his knights and barons loyal. 



In the banquet-hail sat he, 



Down there in the castle royal 



Of bis fathers, by the sea. 



'I'hcre the tippler stood, and swallowed 



One last sup of life's own blood ; 



Then, with feeble hand, the hallowed 



Chalice cast into the flood. 



Droojjed his old eyes — wan and winking — 



As they marked it in the main, 



Fulling — splashing — filling- — sinking — 



A'ever drank he drop again. 



Madame De Stael. — After the restoration, 

 Madame de Stael retiu'iied to Paris, but soon again 

 chose the repose of Coppet. She came once 

 more to inhabit that dwelling which time had 

 rendered pleasant, and with whicli were associa- 

 ted the image and the remembrance of lier tathei'. 

 Crowds of foreigners thronged her liouse ; they 

 came to enjoy happiness under her hospitable 

 roof I too, have often resided under it, and the 

 time I spent there, was the happiest in my life. 

 It was n.ot merely that one found in it more know- 

 ledge and wit than might be met vvitli elsewhere; 

 but 1 was happy because that know ledge and that 

 \v\l were never employed to diminish the pleas- 

 ure of existence. Kind, good natured gaiety 

 were alike welcome there. The imagination was 

 always occupied, and the soul experienced that 

 happy leelimr which inspires contemiit for every 

 ihiiig base, and love for all that is noble. 



Lord Byron w.is one day amifimiced. It was 

 natural that the most distinguished female of our 

 age should desire to know tiie celebrated poet. 

 Madame de Stael was well acquainted with Eng- 

 lish, and could appreciate Lord Byron in his own 

 tongue. He occupied a country house opposite 

 to Coppet, on the other side of the Lake of Ge- 

 neva. To come thither he crossed that lake, 

 whose aspect inspired his muse with the Prisoner 

 of Chillon. 



Madame de Stael, now in a very ailing state, 

 returned to Paris in the month of Septend)er, 

 181G. It was thei'e lliat this brilliant meteor 

 ceased to shed her life-giving rays on every so- 

 ciely. As her soul surpassed her physical strength, 

 she enjoyed, till her last moment, that world 

 which she loved so well, and which will so long 

 regret hei'. 



I had quitted her in the spring to go into Italy, 

 having no idea that wc should lose lier so soon. 

 There w.is in her so much cf the sjiirit of life, 

 that half a century seemed insuflicienl to consume 

 it. To the last, her house was the centre of union 

 for every thing distinguished in Paris. She know 

 how to draw out the wil of every one, nnd those 



who had little, might offer that little without feur, 

 as she never despised it, provided it was natural. 

 Her soul gave and received all impressions. In 

 the midst of two hundred persons, she was in 

 couimimication with all, and would successively 

 animate twenty different groups. The ascend- 

 ancy of her presence put folly to silence. The 

 wicked and the fijolish alike concealed iheiriselvcs 

 belbre her. 



I returned from Italy somewhat iniensy at the 

 news we had there received of Madame de Stael, 

 hut without being much alarmed. I approached 

 Coppet in sadness, for 1 knew she no longer dwelt 

 in it. Arriving on the 28lh Jidy, I stoppeil be- 

 fore entering the village in order to look for a 

 moment into that park where I had so often 

 roamed. I approached those courts, which 1 be- 

 lieved to be deserted, but found them, on the con- 

 trary, crowded with people. They were come, 

 they said, to assist at the obsequies of Madame 

 de Stael. 



I entered by the door of the vestibule, which 

 was open. I passed in front of that theatre in 

 svhich I had been ten years before. The curtain 

 was down, but that day of emotion, of success, 

 and of life, rushed involuntarily upon my recol- 

 lection. 



I saw the coffin descend, borne by the princi- 

 pal inhabitants of the village; for these old men 

 would not yield up the privilege of carrying her 

 mortal remains to that tomb, where her father's 

 rejioscd. Theirs was no desire to pay homage 

 to her renown, (for of what importance was that 

 to them ?) but to her, who had ever been forward 

 to do them kind offices, and who was an object 

 of their love on account of her worlh. 



Her children, her relations, her friends follow- 

 ed the procession. Her coffin was placed at the 

 foot of that where her father lies, in a monmnent 

 which he had erected, that he might be united in 

 the same tomb with her he had so loved. This 

 narrow dwelling contains the mortal remains of 

 these frienrls whom bo strong an affection and so 

 sacred a tie had linked together. They have 

 again met in heaven, but nothing can replace 

 them on earth. — Sargent^s Magazine for January. 



Following a Funeral. — Our nature is chast- 

 ened by the mournful ceremonies attending the 

 departure of a fellow-being from among us. 

 Tossing over our exchanges yesterday, our eye 

 caught the words of a cotemporary who falls ex- 

 actly into our notion. At this season, in the 

 South, no subject conies nearer liome to our feel- 

 ings and observations. "Touches of genuine 

 nature are to be met with at a funeral. The ar- 

 tificial is tlirown aside, the mask we all wear in 

 the business or pleasures of life falls off, and we 

 are able sometimes to catch occasional glimpses 

 of men as they really are, or ought to be. We 

 say, sometimes, for there is abundance of hypoc- 

 ri.sy at a funeral, as any where else, but even tiiis 

 is worth contemplating." 



None may, however, mark the solemnities of 

 the grave without awakening to some degree of 

 serious reflection. We see around the gaping 

 earth, mourners, not of hoods, scarfs, and weep- 

 ei-s, but of the heart — mourning a loss beyond 

 that of the world's losses — losses no world's 

 wealth can re|iair. The tender, dutiful wife — 

 the jjrudent, affectionate husband — the son or 

 daughter of our youth or of our age. The pa- 

 rent, dropping ripe into the lap of the earth, or, 

 deeper grief, cut off in the midst of his hopes, 

 expectations and pursuits, leaving perhaps a 

 young family slenderly provided for, or not iit 

 all ; the attached and long esteemed friend, the 

 woman we loved, or could have loved. These 

 are the griefs, v.irious in the impression, that sur- 

 round the yawning grave. — jY. O. Picayune. 



Beautiful Sentiment. — The following ex- 

 tract is taken from an address delivered at Ur- 

 banna, Ohio, by John A. Bryan, Esq., present 

 Assistant Post Ulaster General: — 



"A mother's love ! How thrilling the sound. 

 The angel spirit that watclied over our infant 

 years, and cheered us wilh her smiles! C>, how 

 faithfully does memory cling to the fast fading 

 mementos of n parent's home, to remind us of 

 the sweet councils of a mother's tongue. Ami, 

 oh! how instinctively do we hang over the early 

 scenes of our boyhood, brightened by the recol- 

 lection of that waking eye that never closed 

 while a single wave of misfortune or daimer 



sighed around her child. Like the lone star of 

 the heavens in the deep solitude of nature's 

 night, she sits the presi<ling divinity of the family 

 mansion, its delight and its charms, its 8tay and 

 its hope, when all around her is overshadowed 

 with the gloom of despondency and despair. 

 The cherished object of her affection has arisen 

 to manhood's years, and exchanged the sportive 

 morn of being, for the busy and stirring adven- 

 tures of the world ; and yet, wherever he may 

 wander— to whatever clime or country inclina- 

 tion or tluty may invite his wayward footsteps; 

 whether facing the wintry storm, or buffeting the 

 mountain snows — the undying prayer of a moth- 

 er's love lingers on his path, and sheds its holiest 

 incense upon his pillow." 



(t/^In the |)lace of our own lucubrations of 

 fiir less value, we present the entire address of 

 the Hon. W. C. Rives before the Agricultural So- 

 ciety of AUterniarle in Virginia, in October last. 

 To the qualities of an eminent statesman, civilian 

 and scholar, Mr. Rives adds that of a practical 

 farmer and planter of the Ancient Dominion. 

 Possessed of one of the finest estates of Virginia, 

 his leisure time is expended in the care and im- 

 provement of his ground!*. More than twenty 

 years ago we remenibcr reading the address of 

 the late^President Madison, whose farm lay in 

 the same county, before the Albermarle Agricul- 

 tmal Society. This departed jiatriot and states- 

 man, on retiVingfrom the troublous waves of po- 

 litical life— from a defensive war of political per- 

 secution consequent upon the responsibility his 

 position called him to assume in the nation's 

 war with Great Britain of 1812— halted not in 

 his useful career; but set an example to his 

 State in practical Agricullnrc, the effects of 

 which are even now felt. The eminent men of 

 Virginia appear no less elevated in their domes- 

 tie pursuits than thev do in their career as war- 

 riors and Statesmen.' Washington and Jefferson, 

 I'uylor and Madison, Barbour and Rives (the 

 three last as the foster fathers of a humble Couti- 

 ty Agricultural Society) will each add to their 

 chaptet of fame the name of having contributed 

 to bring into repute the calling which is at the 

 foundation of all other callings of the country. — 

 Ed.F.M. Visitor. 



ADDRESS, 



OF HON. WM. C. RIVES, 



I'RESIDENT OF THE AGRICULTUKAL SOCIETT OP 

 ALBERMARLE, AT THEIR ANNUAL FAIR, ON THB 

 29th, of OCTOBER, 1842. 



Gentlemen of the Jlgricullural Society of M- 

 bermarle. 



This is the first occasion, since you did me the 

 honor to make me your President, that I have had 

 an oiqiortunitv of returning you my acknowledg- 

 ments for so tlistinguished a proof of your confi- 

 dence and regard. I feel how little of ability I 

 have to advance, in an effective manner, the 

 noble objects of our association ; but whatever 

 powers or faculties of good 1 possess shall be 

 fiiithfully and zealously devoted to your service. 

 The sense of my incompetency to fill the meas- 

 ure of your expectations is deeply enhanced, 

 when I recollect who they were that have occu- 

 pied this place before me— men, "who have held 

 the scale of empire, ruled the storm of mighty 

 war," and having served their country in its high- 

 est and most difficult station, have given the se- 

 rene evening of their days to the glorious task 

 of redeeming nnd elevating its agriculture.* Of 

 these illustrious citizens, my immediate and hon- 

 ored predecessor has, since our last annual meet- 

 in^', closed his long and distinguished career of 

 pi'rblic usefulness.' While liis State and the 

 nation at large mourn his loss, we cannot but 

 feel it, in an especial .manner, on an occasion 

 like the present, when his imposing and anima- 

 ting fi^rure was wont to mingle among us, and 

 to fmpartliesh zeal to our common pursuits. 



Every great undertaking of public utility 

 seems destined to alternate periods of depression 

 and revival. Ours, I trust, alter a temporary re- 

 laxation of the interest felt in it, owing, iJiobably, 

 to the occupation of the public mind with more 

 exciting but cert.iinly not more tiseful subjects, 

 is now, it is to be hoped, on the eve of a revival, 



•Mr. Maoiion and Gov. Barbour were successively 

 I'reeidents of the Agricultural Society of Albormarlt. 



