ness, chased the frown from his brow, and plucked the root of bitterness from his heart. To those who see the matters of state at a distance, or through the medium of letters, all things seem to go on fairly and smoothly; but those who are practically acquainted with the difficulty of administering the best of governments, will easily understand how much necessity there is for the wisdom of the serpent, united with the gentleness of the dove; and they too can comprehend how much the delicate interference of a sagacious woman can effect. Pride, vanity, and selfishness are full of claims and exactions, all bustling and importunate for office and distinction. Peremptory denial produces enmity and confusion, but gentle evasion and cautious replies soften the hearts of the restless, and temper the passions of the sanguine. An intelligent woman can control these repinings, and hush these murmurings with much less sacrifice or effort than men. A woman knows when to apply the unction of soft words, without forgetting her dignity, or infringing on a single principle which the most scrupulous would wish to maintain. Mrs. Adams calmed these agitations of disappointment, healed the rankling wound of offended pride, and left men in admiration of her talents, and in love with her sincerity. Notwithstanding these numerous duties and great exertions as the wife of a statesman, Mrs. Adams did not forget that she was a parent. She had several children, and felt in them the pride and interest, if she did not make the boast of the mother of the Gracchi. Many women fill important stations with the most splendid display of virtues; but few are equally great in retirement; there they want the animating influence of a thousand eyes, and the inspiration of homage and flattery. This is human nature in its common form, and the exception is honorable and rare. Mrs. Adams, in rural seclusion at Quincy, was the same dignified, sensible, and happy woman, as when surrounded by fashion, wit, and intellect. No hectic of resentment, no pangs of regret were ever discovered by her, while indulging in the retrospection of an eventful life, in these shades of retirement. Her conversation showed the same lively interest in the passing occurrences, as though she had retired for a day only, and was to have returned on the morrow to take her share in the business and pleasures of political existence, There was no trick, no disguise in this. It arose from a settled, and perfectly philosophical and christian contentment, which great minds only can feel. Serenity, purity, and elevation of thought preserve the faculties of the mind from premature decay, and, indeed, keep them vigorous in old age. To such, the lapse of time is only the change of the shadow on the dial of life. 66 The hours which are numbered and gone are noticed, but their flight does not “ chill the genial current of the soul." Religious thankfulness for the past, and faith in assurances for the future, make "the last drop in the cup of existence clear, sweet, and sparkling." ANNE BRADSTREET, the first female who ventured to publish a volume of poems in this country, was a daughter of Thomas Dudley, who was chosen governor of Massachusetts several times, from 1634 to 1650. Anne was born at Northampton, in England, in 1612; and was married there in 1628, to Simon Bradstreet, who was afterwards governor of the province also. Anne had received an excellent education; her father and husband were both good scholars, but men of different habits; her father was inflexible and intolerant, and severe in his opinions of others. In the early part of his administration as chief magistrate, he showed his zeal against heretics, and this disposition continued through life; for, after his death, this singular sentiment, expressed, as he would have called it, in verse, was found. in his pocket: "Let men of God, in courts and churches watch, O'er such as do a toleration hatch, Lest that ill egg bring forth a cockatrice, To poison all with heresy and vice. If men be left, and otherwise combine, My epitaph's-I die no libertine," Under the eye of such a father Anne Dudley received her first impressions of learning and religion, but she married Simon Bradstreet at the early age of sixteen, whose mind was of a different cast, and whose disposition was gentle and affectionate. He was one of the most tolerant of all the puritan school. With this mild and amiable man she lived forty-four years, and was the mother of eight children. Blessed with fine natural powers of understanding, early disciplined in a severe school of thinking, she displayed extraordinary talents; and from her situation, associated with all the distinguished persons of the age in which she lived. At the age of thirty she published a volume of poems, which were thought "a miracle of wit and learning." It seems at that time the title page of a book was under the control of the publisher, or printer, or otherwise one so modest as Anne Bradstreet, would not have ventured on such a title page as graced this early American offering to the muse. The The title is, "Several Poems compiled with great variety of wit and learning, full of delight; wherein especially is contained a complete discourse and description of the four elements, constitutions, ages of man, seasons of the year, together with an exact epitome of the three first monarchies, viz; the Assyrian, the Persian, Grecian, and Roman Commonwealth, from the beginning to the end of their last kings; with divers other pleasant and serious poems, by a gentlewoman of New England." most learned divines of the day were her admirers. Norton, a preeminent scholar of the day, wrote these complimentary verses, which expressed the general opinion of the readers of Mrs. Bradstreet's works; for, although these poems were anonymous, it was as well known who was the author of them, as it was who wrote the cantos of Don Juan, a few years ago, before Lord Byron acknowledged them: Her eulogist says: in "Her breast was a brave palace, a broad street, The eulogist did not confine himself to verse, for he expatiated prose, and declared the poetry of this wonderful woman was so fine, that were Maro to hear it, he would again condemn his works to the fire. This praise seems to us at the present day, not a little extravagant; but the writer had heard nothing in the way of poetry for several years, but those shocking attempts of Elliot and Welde to translate the psalms of David into English verse; and any thing that had sense with a little rhyme, no doubt gave him great pleasure. She was as learned as her coadjutors, and vastly more poetical. In 1658 a third edition of these works were published. The preface to this edition contains these words: "It is the work of a woman honored and esteemed where she lives, for her gracious demeanor, her eminent parts, her pious conversation, her courteous disposition, her exact diligence in her place, and discreet management of her family occasions; and more so, these poems are the fruits of a few hours curtailed from her sleep, and other refreshments." Although she made no great efforts, according to these accounts, to write poetry, the highest praise is her due, and she may fairly be placed at the head of the American poets of that age. Let the reader examine the poem we have selected, and then say whether we are correct or not. CONTEMPLATIONS. SOME time now past in the Autumnal Tide, Their leaves and fruits seem'd painted, but was true I wist not what to wish, yet sure thought I, If so much excellence abide below; How excellent is He that dwells on high! Whose power and beauty by his works we know. Sure he is goodness, wisdome, glory, light, That hath this under world so richly dight: More heaven than earth was here no winter and no night. Then on a stately oak I cast mine eye, Whose ruffling top the clouds seem'd to aspire; Then higher on the glistering sun I gaz'd, Had I not better known, (alas) the same had I. Thou as a bridegroom from thy chamber rushest, The morn doth usher thee, with smiles and blushes, Thy heart from death and dulness doth revive: Thy swift annual, and diurnal course, Thy daily straight, and yearly obliqué path, Art thou so full of glory, that no eye Hath strength, thy shining rayes once to behold? Silent alone, where none or saw, or heard, To sing some song, my mazed Muse thought meet. That nature had, thus decked liberally: I heard the merry grasshopper then sing, The black clad cricket, bear a second part, Shall creatures abject, thus their voices raise? When present times look back to ages past, |