curse to himseif, and loathsome to his friends.

There

while he lay conscious of his situation, (for his disease defied the powers of medicine, and he knew that he must die) his former deeds were like the sting of scorpions to his heart, and in the greatest agony he prayed for annihilation, for he could not bear the thought of eternity. The disease seized upon his brain, mortification ensued, and in an hour or two after this unhappy youth died, in all the awful ravings of madness and despair.

No. 10.

VALENTINE.

"Look round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue?

How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice?"

JUVENAL.

"No more was seen the human form divine."

HOMER.

THE beastly habit of drunkenness, and its ruinous effect, has been so well and ably described, by the various organs of the "Temperance Society," that one would think it almost needless to say more on this subject. But it is a lamentable fact, that notwithstanding all the efforts of the above named society, drunkenness still continues to an awful extent, through the length and breadth of the land, the bane of society,

reducing its subjects to poverty, madness, and crime; and blasting the prospects and joys of families whereever it appears. In order to show the exceeding sinfulness and folly of indulging in this baneful and vicious habit, I shall sketch the character of Valentine, who by this brutal crime, was reduced from affluence to poverty; and from great usefulness and shining abilities to impotence and madness.

Valentine was well educated at a public school, from whence he was removed to college, where in a few years he acquired the reputation of a splendid orator. Leaving the university with great credit, on account of his unspotted character, and superior talents, he was placed over the church at he was universally beloved.

where

His popular style of

preaching soon drew a large congregation to his chapel, and his church rapidly increased in numbers. He married a beautiful lady, who had a considerable property, a member of his church, and lived several years with his beloved wife in happiness and peace, beholding his children growing up like olive plants around his table.

But, alas! the picture must now be changed. He unfortunately, in the midst of his prosperity, contracted a fondness for wine, which by repeated indulgencies, confirmed in him a decided habit of drunkenness. At first he was successful in concealing his guilt from the world; but at length it became known, and his friends admonished him. This, instead of producing any good effect, rendered him reckless of consequences, and he increased in intemperance to such

a degree, that he became the disgrace of that church, which he was formerly the ornament of; and the ridicule of the worldling, the scoffer, and the infidel. The pulpit, which he had often desecrated, by his officiating in it when in a state of inebriation, was at length closed against him, and he was dismissed his charge. His character being blasted, his home was rendered a scene of alternate riot and misery.

His wife was insulted by the company of his lewd and drunken companions, with whom he would spend his substance in riotous waste: and then when they had left him mad and infuriated by strong drink that is raging, he would abuse his poor wife and family, and expose them to the inclemency of the night, by turning them out of doors.

For weeks together would he haunt the taverns, in one continued state of drunkenness, till at length reason was dethroned, and he was conveyed to an assylum. After years of madness, spent in all the ravings and blasphemies of the most horrid phrenzy, he regained the use of his senses, and returned to the bosom of his wife and family.

But, alas! years of destroyed his love of

sorrow and of madness, had not that which had prostrated his intellect, and ruined his constitution and character. Again he indulged himself with the oft repeated draught of brutal intemperance; and as though he would make up for his long-compelled abstinence, he drank doubly deep of the Circean cup, till again his reason became imbruted, and his wife and family were reduced to poverty.

His wife's fortune was squandered; his friends who

once respected, despised him; and he left the town where he was once beloved and idolized, and after wandering from place to place, he obtained a situation, in the town of as a pot-boy in a common beer-house, where, for ought I know to the contrary, he still remains.

No. 11.

GOLANDER.

"Beware of sorrow carried to excess,

It blasts our peace, destroys our happiness;

Offends the Deity!"

ANONYMOUS.

GOLANDER was when I first knew him, a fine clever youth of fourteen years of age, with a bloom on his cheek and a fire in his eye, that told of light and buoyant spirits and vigorous health. He ever met you with a merry laugh, and waggish expression, and among his companions was the very soul of fun and gaiety. But a change soon came over the spirit of his dream of life, for "life's a dream." While bathing with a youth to whom he was fondly attached, he beheld him get beyond his depth, and swept away by the waves, to be seen no more. Though Golander could not swim, with a cry of agony he dashed himself madly into the water, to rescue the friend whom he loved as his own soul, and would have doubtless been drowned had not some persons rowed to his relief, who saw him struggling with the waves.

When animation returned he was inconsolable for the loss of his friend, and refused to be comforted. For hours would he stand on the sea shore and gaze at the spot where he saw his beloved friend perish ; then desperately dashing his clenched hand to his breast, would swiftly rush from the spot. His former companions were forsaken; he was no longer the healthy-looking, merry-laughing youth, that sported over the ground lightly as the dancing breezelet; but his brow was contracted and clouded, his step enfeebled, his countenance pale and haggard, and his frame attenuated and enervated. At twenty years of age he looked sixty. Sorrow had powdered his youthful head; and his meagre and skeleton figure, and cadaverous features, spoke of the ravages of grief, or the hand of time. The former of these was the case; the loss of his friend preyed continually upon his mind, till it produced that morbid sensibility, which is the usual precursor of madness, if not a species of it.

In vain did his family and physicians try to relieve him; they

"Could not minister to a mind diseased;
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;

Raze out the written troubles of the brain;

And with some sweet oblivious antidote,

Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart.”

No, that should have been his own work.

"Therein

the patient must minister to himself;" all other help is vain. But, alas! he cherished his woe, and "nursed the pinion that impell'd the steel," till at the age of