THE STORM.

HAST thou, from some tall summit, lightning-riven,
E'er seen the thunder-spirit rushing on,

Begirt with all the artillery of heaven,

The mighty herald of th' Eternal One? When clouds on clouds, in wild confusion driven By the fierce wind that has the mast'ry won, Rush to the zenith, mount o'er mountain rolled, Writhing as though embraced in some vast serpent's fold.

Oh, 'tis a glorious and terrific sight,
The preparation of aerial war;

When the deep thunder mutt'ring in its might,

Is gathering all its forces from afar,

While on the forehead of the storm the light
Of the red lightning, like a baleful star,
Shoots with a lurid glare, and o'er its path
The whirlwind pours along the blackness of its wrath.

It comes, it comes, the tempest's burning wheels
Rush from the sky and shake the solid ground.
The earth affrighted to her center yields.

There is no room for echo, for the sound

Is all impulsive, and the welkin feels

A motion earthward from its farthest bound, Above, below, around-and all the air

Swells into voice; there's not a breath to spare.

But hark! a noise amid the dying thunder,

Low and distinct-it is an ocean's roar,
That bends the firmament its vast weight under;
Now downward to the earth 'tis settling lower.
And now the gates of heaven have burst asunder,
And congregated waters through them pour;
Down on the cowering hills the torrents sweep,
Loud as Niagara in her mountain leap.

He speaks in all, who erst on Sinai's hill,

'Mid clouds and darkness and devouring flame, Bowed down the heavens, proclaimed his holy will, And bade the nations tremble at his name.

In wrath, in glory, and in justice, still

The Lord Jehovah ever is the same.

Man is the same-he still his God reviles,

Though from the arch of promise suffering Mercy smiles.

55

MISS TABITHA TUNK.

(A LEAF FROM MEMORY.)

'For contemplation he and valor formed,
For softness she and sweet attractive grace.'-

MISS Tabitha Tunk-Star of my boyhood-Hope of my youth -Magnet of maturer years! I shall never forget thee, if I live to be as old as Methuselah.

Miss Tabitha Tunk was the mistress of the village school, where I had the honor of studying the 'prima elementia.' I see her now in memory with her tall and not inelegant figure, her smooth and lilied physiognomy, light hair, and two little curls twisted into a circular knot somewhat like an old fashioned tin whistle, with a pin stuck through them and which she always fastened over either eye, her ruff of snowy lawn pinned nicely about her neck, her cuffs of the same commodity, dimity petticoat, and large scissors hanging at her girdle by an imitation silver chain-Ah! I can see her now as plainly as when she used to come into the school-house, of a summer's morning some ten or twelve years since, and begin the duties of the day by reading a chapter in the Bible, and thrashing some little urchin for yesterday's delinquencies.

Miss Tabitha Tunk (or rather Mrs. Tabitha Tunk as we sometimes called her, from the fact that she was fast approximating towards that unfortunate period of life, when an unmarried woman is so sure to see a falling off in the attentions of the opposite sex)Miss Tabitha Tunk, I say, used to begin the duties of the day by reading the Bible, and thrashing some little prototype of future wickedness. Whether it was because she was fond of holding sweet converse with the goodly precepts of Solomon and practicing thereupon, or whether she had discovered by intuition (a woman's peculiar forte) that the best method of bringing up boys is by never sparing the rod, I can't say—but it is very certain, without inquiring into her reasons, that she deem'd the birch of vital importance; for she gave us all the most touching proofs of the same, and enforced it with an inculcation which could not well pass from the mind-or rather from the body. Her sharp, queer voice, like the ringing of a cracked silver pitcher- Bill! you goose'-slap! slap! Betty! you hussey'-whack! whack! Jonas! you fellow-thwack! thwack!-Ah! I can hear them even now as the melodies of yesterday, and I can't help winking for the life of me, from apprehension of personal uncomfort.-So much for the law of

association.

Yet let it not be supposed that Miss Tabitha Tunk was destitute of all the finer qualities of man's-or rather woman's nature. Let it not be imagined she was destitute of feeling, a stranger to taste, wanting in true feminine delicacy. Nay, nay-you will err greatly if you think thus. For after all she was a real woman-yea, a woman of taste, and possessing many, very many of those high and attractive virtues, which are so pre-eminently estimable in the female character. She was a woman of mind, and ranked high with those who knew her well. She was warm in her feelings, generous in her disposition, and very susceptible-as I shall shortly show.

It might be amusing here and perhaps not unprofitable, to pause awhile upon the singularity of a character like this, (and there are many such,) and inquire how one individual can possess as it were, two distinct natures. Miss Tabitha Tunk was thought by most of her associates, to be colder in her feelings than one of the Polar icebergs. She was deemed unamiable, harsh, inquisitive, and withal discontented in her situation. And in truth she was so to appearance, and deserved the character among the villagers. Yet this was observed and commented upon-when her mother died, it nearly broke her heart. It was observed, too, that when she lost a little girl from her school, she was necessitated to relinquish the duties of her station for some days, merely from excess of grief. And it was known too, that she was kind to the poor, and lived a life of the most irreproachable purity. Now I am persuaded, that a man may have two distinct characters. A sort of callousness grows over the heart, which renders it insensible to common influences, and the usual duties of life are performed as mechanical-the results of anterior and early formed habits, without the least participation of the feelings; and as feeling only gives attraction to our conduct, when feeling is shut off, the habits necessarily become disagreeable and repugnant to society. To make a comparison (a new one, kind reader, though perhaps a little singular)-there are persons whose feelings are like a pan of milk in dog-days well creamed over, which you may disturb by a ladle inserted cautiously beneath, and the body of the liquid may be dancing around like a Norwegian maelstroom, while the surface only trembles and remains unbroken.

You are to understand then, kind reader, that Miss Tabitha Tunk was in reality, her reputation to the contrary notwithstanding, possessed of deep and powerful feelings which striking circumstances only could bring up to the light. Now I would mention another peculiarity of such a character-which in fact applies to the whole human family. The human heart must love something. It cannot live shut out from the common sympathies of its nature. It will wither like a plant deprived of moisture, without them. It may be compared to a mountain lake, whose waters to be kept pure must be constantly receiving tribute from fresh gushing springs in some parts, and in others pouring off the surplus increase. The waters are

kept healthy by the process. Miss Tabitha Tunk's heart was a perfect exemplification of the comparison, for it began to be vaguewhispered through the school, that none other than your humble servant, kind reader, was growing rapidly into favor. Whether selfinterest prompted affection towards so unworthy an object as myself, or whether the little god' had shot an arrow from my gray eyes and stiff carroty hair, I can't say-at least, I knew not at the time; but this is certain-she most evidently had taken a fancy in an oblique direction, and I became an item in the compound of her felicities. I would remark here, that I was between the ages of ten and twelve and had already had two or three little mistresses, and as I was up to any thing, I determined to humor her, and therefore returned her passion with all the fervor of my disposition. Well, I was in high favor. She would never strike me a blow. Through my interposition, many a little playmate was saved from the castigation he merited. She would suffer me when alone, to use the most endearing terms of which the English language is capable; and sometimes allow me to touch her lips-which thing I performed with the grace of a Chesterfield, or the skill of a Brommel. So passed the summer of my fourth passion; and I can confidently affirm that I loved Miss Tabitha Tunk with pretty considerable earnestness.

It chanced on one of those dull soggy days of late summer, that Miss Tabitha Tunk came into the school-room pale as death. There was a want of her usual staid demeanor, in moving to her seat. We remarked the absence of the usually nice arrangement of her habiliments. Her eyes also were red as if she had wept the whole night; and it struck the whole school as something marvelous and inexplicable. We noticed also that she yawned when she read a chapter in the Bible, and sighed twice as she slapped little Nick Toughbreeches. The day passed off however, without any thing's transpiring which tended to solve the enigma, and at evening unperceived I entered the private apartment of my charmer. Her back was turned partially towards me, and her face was so averted that I caught not her features, yet I saw she was weeping from the evident undulations of her bosom-and she sobbed audibly. An open letter was lying on the desk before her, and as I cautiously advanced, to my astonishment I observed in her hand, the miniature counterfeit of one of the noblest looking fellows in the world. He was dressed as a naval officer, and the high forehead, large lustrous eyes, and finely curved lips, unraveled the thing at once.

I laid my hand upon her shoulder-she started. 'Laurence!' said she, and holding towards me the miniature she burst into a fresh flood of tears. I took her hand in mine, and bending down kissed her lips with the air of one who felt he had perfect liberty to do so --which she did not restrain. She then raised her eyes, and with the most wo-begone countenance I ever saw. I never was so touched. I dropped upon my knees.

6

'O! Tabitha Tunk,' said I, dear Tabitha Tunk'-while the tears began to stream from my own eyes like a moderately big cataract, 'Tell your Laurence what has happened.-By the Lord! if any one has looked at you amiss, said a word or scorned you, I'll—I'llShe put forth her hand, and parting the hair which lay in masses on my forehead, stooped down and kissed me-like a mother, while she replied

'Laurence, dear Laurence, you have judgment beyond your years; and I will reveal to you and ask your counsel upon a subject I would scorn to tell to the oldest head in the village.' She held up the picture. 'Do you see this miniature?' My first thoughts made me as jealous as Satan-Egad! I had a mind to challenge him-but it happening to pop into my head that I didn't know who him was, I bridled my rage. She went on- More than ten years since I was affianced to its original. I was then young, animated, and, you may have heard it said, handsome. He was a midshipman in the navy, and, as I was finishing my education in New Haven, I there saw him and gave him my heart. A few bright, happy weeks flew over me there so happy that they will ever be bright spots for fancy to dwell on, even in the darkest hours. And they were few-for we parted soon, and I have never seen him since that period. Misfortune has reduced me to my present situation as you well know-(I forgot to relate the early history of Miss Tabitha Tunk, and to say that she was the daughter of a rich and talented country gentleman, who was ruined by a villain and died broken hearted, quid est broken fortuned)—and he, having lost my address, finally concluded me dead or faithless to him. A month since he returned to this country, and hearing that I was still living and unmarried and necessitated to teach school in an obscure country village, he came post haste to seek me, and arrived here it seems yesterday morning. Last evening I received that-cruel-Read it, Laurence, read it, you shall know all.' I read the following

To Miss TABITHA TUNK—

Madam,-With a heart you might have still claimed, after an absence of ten years I was hastening to throw myself at your feet. But what was my astonishment, when on entering this village I learned you were attached to another, and myself of course forgotten. I could not depart without letting you know I have been so near younor do I write this to reproach you-but to tell you I still wish and pray for your happiness, though I am not allowed to share it. I shall leave town immediately.

Farewell for ever,

ENOCH SHEEPSHEAD.

I read the letter twice that there should be no possible mistake, then folding it slowly, I seized my hat and darted from the room.