Original.

TWILIGHT.

BY MRS. M. L. GARDINER.

NATURE is hushed, and all around is still. The spirit calm, subdued; the thoughts aboveAbove, where nought of sorrow ever comes. Above, where no rude passion moves the breast, Where no discordant jar is ever felt,

To mar the harmony of pleasant sounds.

A peaceful, quiet hour; when one by one
The stars come forth, and in the deep blue sky
Gleam in the distance; twinkling as they peep,
Like angel watchers o'er a fallen world.

Beautiful stars! I gaze on thy mild light,
And wonder as I gaze, upon the power
That from His hand, sprinkled the azure vault
With lamps innumerable of living flame.

Twilight! the poets' hour-calm and serene.
The soul's own hour, when best it knows itself.
When evening throws her somber hue around,
Lets down her mantle fringed with emerald tints,
Richly embossed with gems of golden beams,
Leading the mind in dreamy solitude
To scenes divine, beyond the ken of sight.

When memory, the soul's true register,
Unfolds the leaves, and brings again the past,
Holds sweet communion with the pious dead,
Recalls each look, the soul illumined eye,

The form beloved, the fair white hands, the words
Of honied tenderness until it melts

And tears of vain regret choke up the soul,

Beautiful twilight! Lead my thoughts to God.
Help me to contemplate the glorious hour
When I shall soar beyond those dazzling orbs,
A soul unfettered-disinthralled and free

SAG HARBOR, MARCH 5, 1850.

Original.

WHAT CAN I DO?

THERE is, in every.mind, a consciousness of something yet unattained, something greater to come, of unrevealed mysteries which we shall one day know, and the most commonplace and prosaic persons acknowledge the influence and act under the promptings of this feeling. Thousands fail to do any thing in the world, because they can not do great things at once. They are not willing to take the trouble to measure their capacities, in relation to their social position, their mental endowments, and the whole possibility of their being. And the slow steps by which, only, excellence is attained, are too discouraging to be commenced. It is well, necessary, to aim high in order to accomplish any undertaking, but the desire of the ignorant child who cries for the moon, is no more palpably absurd than that of the uninformed man, who would fain decide, as a competent judge, upon subjects he has never studied, and situations in which he has never been placed. It is in vain to contend that all men are equal, when every community shows to the contrary. You may distribute property impartially, and reduce society to one rank or cast, and from out the level mass will arise a commanding and intriguing or a winning intellect, that will, at once, control and lead its fellows, and the great army of mind will be marshaled in orders of genius as long as the world endures. What relation we bear to this great army we must first decide, before we can know how much we can do, or how much we may even attempt. How many, for want of this knowledge, pass a long life, useless to others and unsatisfactory to themselves. Those, particularly, whose condition is obscure; of whom public opinion takes no cognizance, but whose talents might serve some useful purpose, if rightly applied.

Many such there are, who carry with them, when they think at all, an imbittered feeling, because Providence has not given them dazzling talents, or placed them in a conspicuous station, and they say, "I am not gifted like this one, or rich as another, or happy as that one, therefore I can do nothing. It is no mat

ter what I do or leave undone. Who will know it?" There are others, also, who allow the garden of the soul to lie altogether uncultivated; who never think, and who plod on, day after day, like mere automata, and die, at last, to awake in a future state with the guilt of an uncared for immortality pressing them down through eternity.

Ill-directed efforts after excellence, failures in the wrongly-attempted track, disappointment, and discouragement, are of everyday occurrence, and a voice that should speak forcibly enough of the right way to begin, where there is any inclination to make the attempt, would do more to satisfy the thinking portion of the community, than vast societies for reforming abuses in social communities, seeking for happiness in a body. One general rule can be given which is far too often overlooked or forgotten: The living everyday, with the endeavor to do our appointed labor for that day to the best and utmost of our ability, in the fear of God, and with a constant sense of the Divine willingness to aid, and the Divine cognizance of our endeavors, let the labor be ever so humble, the duty ever so menial. "For there is no action so slight or mean but it may be done to a great purpose and ennobled therefore."

"A servant, with this clause,

Makes drudgery divine.

Who sweeps a room, as to Thy laws,

Makes that and the action fine."

When we wake in the morning, with bodies and minds refreshed by sleep, our first thought is due to the Power that is higher than us, our thanks for His care, and our prayer for His assistance. Our next, to our constantly recurring and monotonous duties and trials. How we shall secure strength, inward and outward, for the daily fretting and rasping of life. How, as men, we shall go forth in an integrity and sincerity of purpose, which shall stand its ground against the open assaults and secret undermining of the world of business and toil. How we shall bring to bear all our powers to do, in the best possible manner, the duties of this one day. How, as a woman, we shall order our household like her "whose husband rose up and called her blessed, and whose daughters praised her." Who lives by that

homely but excellent adage, "a place for every thing and every thing in its place." Who shall look upon her children as given her to train for heaven. Whose soul shall have its share of food as well as the body. Who shall not regard herself as a mere fixture appertaining to the establishment, on the one hand, responsible for nothing but a clean house and a good dinner, nor on the other, a fashionable compound of nerves and delicate sensibility, too tender for the wind to visit her roughly. But

"A perfect woman, nobly planned
To warn, to comfort, to command.
With household motions light and free,
And yet a spirit still and bright,

With something of an angel light.”

Every thing a woman can silently do, within the sacred walls of her own house, to beautify and bless her home, to soften the harsh outlines of life to the world-weary and jaundiced eye of her husband, to impart to her children lessons never forgotten from the lips of a mother, to improve and strengthen her own intellectual powers, is so much worthily done. And if her influence and duties extend no further, she has lived! not merely vegetated, or floated like a leaf at the mercy of the strong current of circumstances. Life is too full of stirring incident, of deep sadness, of hopes unaccomplished, to allow any to trifle or sport it away, and, oh, all too full of eternal consequences attaching to unimportant actions! When we regard our present existence as the threshold, the mere entrance, to one of eternal duration, how important do we become in our own eyes! Then we can realize how God regards us! With what interest we are watched by those angel ministrants, who desire to look into the purposes and ends of our being. And we can, also, comprehend and feel the beauty of mental culture of every kind, because we can take that with when us, we go hence to be here no more." You who say, of what use is it to me, in the midst of my cares, with my children around me, to attempt to read or improve my mind? Why should I acquire this language, or master that science? How am I to be benefitted by that knowledge or for the time spent in that pursuit? Here is your answer! All that strengthens, refines, elevates, ennobles, in every walk

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of life, is so much laid by in store for eternity. Study till gray hairs are upon your head, and failing eyes forbid you to make other's thoughts your own, and then study the great book of nature spread out before you, written on every page by the finger of the Creator, so that he who runs may read. And while you study do not dream, but do! For yourself, for your family, for your country, for mankind, for God! Here is labor for which the longest life is too short. Here is motive enough for men and angels! And all that is worthy, and lovely, and noble in this world and for the next, may be accomplished by patiently living day by day to the very best of our ability. An accretion of such days will form a life, of which no man need fear the acceptance when he shall stand before God in 'udgment.

M.

Original.

A WARNING DREAM.

ONE bright, genial summer day, I threw myself down upon the brink of a gently-flowing stream, whose clear waters reflected nothing but the flowers growing upon its edge, or the tall, majestic trees that overshadowed it. Beneath the water might be seen a few minute fish, darting restlessly here and there above the smooth stones that formed the river's bed.

All around was still. 'Twas high noon, and even the birds were dumb; no sound stirred the air, save the light rustling of the leaves, as they replied to the whispered conversation of the breeze. A feeling of repose came over me; my mind seemed in a state of dreamy pleasure; gradually my senses became less and less acute; my eyes no longer heeded the rippling waters, and soon the heavy lids falling over them—I slept.

With sleep came dreams of all kinds, from sad to joyous, from grave to gay. At one moment I was at a brilliant ball, where beauty reigned supreme; at the next, I was bending over a death-bed, catching the dying words of some loved friend. After a time the workings of my imagination seemed to cease, and suddenly a clear, ringing voice spoke in my ear, as follows: