agreeable visit, interesting and improving conversation, refined manners, and a good degree of affability and politeness among the ladies.

On entering the room, our salutations were returned by sly looks, suppressed smiles, and a confused whisper from all present.

Soon universal silence ensued, and I feared the spirit of sociability had fled, not to return; till my friend introduced me to one young lady, and accosted another. Our conversation began with some common place topicks, but soon turned upon reading; numerous standing works of celebrity were mentioned, but alas, the tongue of the damsel was mute. While I was thinking what I should next say in order to dissipate the ignorance and confusion, which her countenance exhibited, and to draw forth her powers of volubility, she enquired if I had read such a novel, and went on to expatiate upon its excellencies, the accomplishments and beauty of the heroine; the gallantry of the hero, and the interest she took in such and such a character. From the mention of one she went on to another till those were named, which one would suppose to have been buried for years under dust and cob-webs; and some, which I must own never to have heard of.

Silence now seemed to be my lot; for it is quite out of my power to carry on a discussion upon what I have never seen or read. Leaving the person in question to exhaust her fund of information upon some more knowing being, I sat listening to others, in hopes that some one would answer my expectations: but remarks upon the beauty of one, the dress of another the pride of a third, and the affectation of a fourth, was all I could hear; and to be candid, I was not sorry when the signs of breaking up were discoverable.

Now gentlemen, I have given you this short sketch of the transactions of the evening, wishing to know (as I take it for granted you are acquainted in most of the fashionable circles in this city) whether the description given, is applicable to all, or must be confined to those alone, in whose society I chanced to mingle? Respectfully yours, LUDOVICO.

THE GALLEY SLAVE.

How dark is the night; and no planet is gleaming
To light the lost mariner over the wave;
How dark is my fortune, no sunshine is beaming
From Hope, on the poor galley slave.

The Mariner waits till the morning is breaking,
When day light shall point him his path to the shore;
By night and by day the poor Galley slave waking—
Must sigh as he tugs at the oar

Tho' cold be the storm on the wand'rer descending,
And chill be the tempests around him that blow,
Still Hope on this storm some few bright rays is blending,
And smiles on the dark cloud of woe.

But never shall Hope, to the poor galley slave,
His friends or the love of his bosom restore,
No never, the wretch till he sleeps in the grave
Must sigh as he tugs at the oar

And oft when around him the billows were roaring
He struggled to sweep his broad oar through the wave,
I've mark'd him in tears his lost freedom deploring,
I've mark'd the poor heart broken slave.

"Ah! ne'ershall I meet my lost friends" he was crying,
"Oh! ne'er shall my woes and my sorrows be o'er,"
Then faintly his voice on his pallid lips dying,
He sigh'd as he tug'd at the oar

When Nature has sunk and the poor Galley slave
In short broken slumbers is resting from pain,
He dreams that he crosses the far distant wave,
And meets with his Laura again.

But soon from his slumber in anguish awaking,
His fond dream of love and pleasure is o'er,

And leaves him with nought, while his full heart is breaking,
But to sigh as he tugs at the oar.

EDGAR.

1

On the death of Miss

For the Microscope.

who was drowned while bathing at

The sun from his soft swelling palace of blue,
Look'd down on the waves of the ocean;
O'er the breast of the billow the razor-bill flew,
All hush'd was its stormy commotion.

The Halcyon rock'd on his wave cradle bed,
And slept on the surge as a pillow;

The gulls flapp'd their wings o'er the mariner's head,

As his back plow'd the foam of the billow.

Like the goddess of beauty array'd in her charms,
When from Ida in triumph descending,

Maria unmindful of future alarms,

O'er the breaker that rippled was bending.

She saw in the wave as it roll'd to the shore,
Her charms with triumphant emotion,

And little she thought 'mid the billows loud roar
How soon she should sleep in the ocean.

Her maids stood around her, and scarce at her feet
Ascended the soft kissing billow;

Ah! little they thought that an angel so sweet

Should repose on a watery pillow

While securely they dipp'd in the scarce-beaving wave,

That softly around them was swelling,

The sea-nymphs were decking her coralline grave,

And her parting bell slowly was knelling.

A breaker arose like the wave of the storm,

It foam'd with a wild heaving motion.

And dash'd o'er the strand-overwhelm'd her fair form,
And buried her deep in the ocean.

A faint shriek was heard, and 'twas silent again,

She has gone,-she has vanish'd forever,

Long-long shall they seek for her corse in the main,

But when shall they find it-ab! never.

On sea weeds and corallines softly reclin'd,

Maria is calmly reposing ;

Around her fair form the sea-mosses shall wind,

Till time o'er the ocean is closing.

And long shall the sea-boy while wrapt in his dream

At midnight awake from his pillow

And wondering view in the moon's silver beam,
Her fair spirit glide o'er the billow.

Thoughts suggested by a view of the firmament, at night:
Behold! the deepen'd hue, of night appears-
The thick bespangl'd curtain's closing fast-
The moon, slow rising, casts a lengtben'd shade.
Who knows but from those sparkling gems of heav'n
The notes of praise ascend to their creator.
Who dares to doubt that happy souls there dwell,

Existing while eternal ages roll.

How few behold these works divinely bright,

And think of their all wise creator, God!

Some ask, who form'd these worlds of fire or light?
Whose mighty hand directs-supports the whole?
They view them with a philosophick eye
And impious, ascribe them all to chance.
But he at whose commad they sprang to life
Still guides their ceaseless course—unerring still.
And what is man, who moves on this dim speck
Of earth-this little point in space immense !

URANIA

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

E. Montague shall appear as soon as possible.

Atticus has been received...

H.

THE MICROSCOPE.

EDITED BY A FRATERNITY OF GENTLEMEN.

NEW-HAVEN, (Conn.) PUBLISHED BY A. H. MALTBY & CO.

No. 18.]

FRIDAY, MAY 19, 1820.

My surprise has often been excited, when travelling through the northern part of Germany, to see the ingenuity of the peasantry. Many who are remove ed at a distance from the manufactories, sharpen their contrivance, and form rude resemblances to the objects they greatly need, thus verifying the old proverb-Necessity is the mother of invention.

Leuwenbergius.

It is an old adage that one half of mankind is ignorant of the manner in which the other half live. He who rolls on wheels of splendour, and riots on the products of other climes, when he fixes his fond eye on his palace, or looking around him can say, "I am monarch of all I survey," little dreams that to produce this happiness, thousands are suffering from a scanty pittance-from cold and hunger. We who are realis ing all the blessings of refined society and those numerous enjoyments resulting from a residence in a country which has been rapidly improving for two centuries, are unable to appreciate the difficulties those experience, who pioneer their way through the western forests, and smooth the path, for such as succeed them. These observations are made in order to introduce the following letter, for which we are indebted to our friend Venator. It appears to be written by some gentleman travelling in the western country. As it exhibits the difficulties that must be overcome before the wilderness will blossom, and as it may perhaps have a tendency to correct the visionary ideas of some respecting the spontaneous productions and the paradisiacal happiness of the western world, we shall present it to our readers, without hesitation: Оно,

DEAR

I have just returned from an equestrian expedition of six