Ti c Mcse! whalc'cr the Muse inspires, Mv soul the tuneful strain admires....sro r-r. FROM TEHCIVAl's rOEM: Softly the moonlight Is shed on the lake, fwi ; summer niht Wake ! O awake ! iVmtk the curlew Is heard from afar, List ye ! O list To the lively guitar Trees cast a mellow shade Over the vale, Sweetly the serenade Ilrcathes in the gale, Softly and tenderly Over the lake, Gailv and cheerilv AVake ! O awake ! See the light pinnace, Draws nigh to the shore, Swiftly it glides At the heave of the oar ; Cheerily plays On its buoyant car, Nearer and nearer rIhe lively guitar. Now the wind rises And ruffles the pine, Hippies foam-crested Like diamonds shine, They flash where the waters The white pebhles lave, In the wake of the moon, As it crosses the wave. Bounding from billow To billow, the boat Like a wild swan is seen On the waters to float ; And the light dipping oars Bear it smoothly along In time to the air Of the gondolier's song. And high on the stern Stands the young and the brave, As love-led he crosses The star spangled wave, And blends with the murmur Of water and grove The tones of the nihr, That are sacred to love. His gold-hilted sword At his bright belt is hung, His mantle of silk On his shoulder is flung, And high waves the feather; That dances and plays On his cap where the buckle And rosary blaze. The maid from her lattice Looks down on the lake, To see the foam sparkle, The bright billow break, And to hear in his boat, Where lie shines like a star, Her lover so tenderly Touch his guitar. She opens her lattice, And sits in the glow Of the moon-light and star-light, A statue of snow ; And she sings in a voice That is broken with sighs, And she darts on her lover The light of her eyes. His love-speaking pantonine Tells her his soul How wild in that sunny clime Hearts and eyes roll. She waves with her white hand Her white fazzolet, And her burning thoughts flash From her eyes' living jet. The moonlight is hid In a vapour of snow ! Her voice and his rebeck Alternately flow ; lie-echoed they swell From the rock on the hill; They sing their farewell, And the music is still. I ll I iW KIJMLI !! U "aJIWWIBI Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all its i!avor. NATURAL CUIHOSITY. Description of the Natural Bridge in Virginia, extracted from the Christian Herald. " On a lovely morning toward the close of spring, I found myself in a very beautiful part of the Great Valley of Virginia, Spurred on by impa tience, 1 beheld the sun rising in splen dour and changing the blue tints on the tops of the lofty Allegany moun tains into streaks of purest gold, and nature seemed to smile in the fresh ness of beauty. A ride of about 15 miles, and a pleasant woodland ramble of about two, brought myself and com panion to the great Natural Bridge Although I had been anxiously look ing forward to this time, and my mind iiad been considerably excited bv the expectation, yet I war, net altogether prepared for this visit. This great "work of nature is considered by m.mv as the second great curiosity in our country, Ni ig.ira falls lrj'ir.g the first. I do not expect to convey a verv cor rect idea of this bridge, for no descrip tion can do this. The Natural Bridge is entirely thr voik ot God. It is of solid limestone, ard connects two hugh mountains to gether by a most beautiful arch, over i which there is a gi cat wagon road. Its j length from one mountain to the ether is nearly SO feet, its width about 35, its thickness 45, and its perpendicular iright over the water is not far from 220 feet. A few brushes grow on its top, by which the traveller may hold himself as he looks over. On each side of the stream, and near the bridge, are rocks projecting 10 or 15 feet over the water, and from 200 to 300 from its surface, all of limestone. The vis iter cannot give so good a description of this bridge as he can of his feelings at the time. lie softly creeps out on a shaggy projecting rock, and looking down a chasm of from 40 to 60 feet wide, he sees nearly 500 feet below, a wild stream foaming and dashing against the rocks beneath, as if terrified at the rocks above. This stream is called the Cedar Creek. The visiter here sees trees under the arch, whose height is seventy feet ; and yet to look down upon them, they appear like small bushes of perhaps two or three feet in height. I saw several birds fly under the arch, and they looked like insects. I threw down a stone, and counted thirty-four before it reached the water. All hear of heights and of depths, but they here sec what is high, and they tremble, and feel it to be deer). 1 he awful rocks present their everlasting hutments, the water murmurs and foams far below, and the two moun tains rear their proud heads on each side, separated by a channel of sublim ity. Those who view the sun, the moon, and the stars, and allow that none but God could make them, will here be impressed that none but an Almighty God could build a bridge like this. The view of the bridge from below, is as pleasing as the top view is awful. The arch from bene ith would seem to be about two feet in thickness. Some idea of the distance from the top to the bottom may be formed, from the fact, that as I stood on the bridge and my companion beneath, neither of us could speak with sufficient loudness to be heard by the other. A man from ei ther view does not appear more than four or five inches in height. As we stood under this beautiful arch, we saw ih place where visiters have often taken the pains to engrave their names upon the rock. Here Washington climbed up 25 feet and carved his own name, where it still remains. Some wishing to immortal ize their names, have engraven them deep and large, while others have tried to climb up and insert them high in this book of fame. A few years since, a young man, being ambitious to place his name above all others, came very near losing his life in the attempt. After much j fatigue he climbed up as high as pos-! sible, but found that the person who I had before occupied his place was tall- er than himself, and consequently had i placed his name above his reach. But i he was not thus to be discouraged. He i opened a large jack-knife, and in the i soft lime-stone, began to cut places for his hands and feet. With mueh pa tience and industry he worked his way upwards, and succeeded in carving his name higher than the most ambitious had done before him. He could now triumph, but his triumph was short, for he was placed in such a situation that it was impossible to descend, un less he fell upon the ragged rocks be neath him. There was no house near, from whence his companions could get assistance. He could not long remain in that condition, and, what was worse, his friends were too much frightened to do any thing for his relief. They looked upon him as already dead, ex pecting every moment to see him pre cipitated upon the rocks below and dashed to pieces. Not so with him self. He determined to ascend. Ac cordingly he plies himself with his knife, cutting places for his hands and feet, and gradually ascended with in credible labour. He exerts his every muscle. His life was at stake, and all the terrors of death rose before him. He dared not to look downwards, lest his head should become dizzy ; and perhaps on this circumstance his life depended. His companions stood at the top ot the rock exhorting and en couraging him. His strength was al most exhr listed ; but a bare possibility r,f ;rivinnr hie lift ctill vnmn'.na.1 ...,,1 hope, the last friend of the distressed, j had not yet forsaken him. His course j up wares was ratner ounqueiy than per pendicularly. His most critical mo ment had now arrived. He had as cended considerably more than 2CO feet, and had still further to rise, when I he felt himself fast growing weak. He thought of his friends and all his earth ly joys, and he could not leave them. He thought of the grave, and dared not meet it. He now made his last effort, and succeeded. He had cut his way not far from 250 feet from the water, in a course almost perpendicu lar ; and in little less than two hours, his anxious companions reached him a pole from the top and drew him up. They received him with shouts of joy ; but he himself was completely exhaust ed. He immediately fainted away on reaching the spot, and it was sometime before he could be recovered ! It was interesting to see the path up these awful rocks, and to follow in im agination this bold youth as he thus saved his life. .'His name stands far above all the rest, a monument of har dihood, of rashness and of follv. We staid around this seat pi gran deur about four hours ; but from'my own feelings I should not have suppo- seel it over halt an hour. i here is a little cottage near, lately built ; here we were desired to write our names as visiters of the bridge, in a large book kept for the purpose. Two large volumes were nearly filled in this man ner already. Having immortalized our names by enrolling them in this book, we slowdy and silently returned to our horses, wondering at this great work of nature ; and we could not but be filled with astonishment at the ama zing power of Him, who can clothe himself in wonder and terror, or throw around his works a mantle of sublim ity. FROM THE BOSTON CF.XTIXFZ. Mn. Russell, About the time of the burning of the British government schooner Gashee, at Newport, a few years previous to the revolution, admi ral Montague, (who then commanded the ships of war in Boston,) took sev eral of his officers in his coach and proceeded to Newport, to make per sonal inquiry into that affair. On his return to Boston, not far from Ded ham, a charcoal cart obstructed the passage of the coach, when the coach man, leeling much consequence, from his exalted station, in driving a British admiral, and knowing that his master was to dine that dav with Mr. B. call ed in an insolent manner to the collier to turn out, and make way for admiral Montague ! the coal driver (not at all intimidated by the splendid equipage, imposing manner and rich livery of the knight of the whip) replied that he was in the kings hi eh 7 vat, and that he should not " turn cut" for anv one but the king himself, and thanked fortune that he had the law to support him. The admiral finding an altercation had taken place, on discovering the cause, told his coachman to get down and give the fellow a thrashing but the coachman did not seem disposed to obey his commander. One of the of ficers in the coach, a large athletic man, alighted, reproached the coachman with being a coward, and was proceed ing to take vengeance of the coal dri ver, who, perceiving so potent an ad versary advancing, drew from his cart a stake, to use as a weapon of d '.fence, and placing himself before his oxen, in an attitude of defence, he exclaim ed "xvell, if I must, darn e ! but I'll tarnish your laced jacket if you don't keep off." By this time the admiral and the other officers had left the coach, and finding that no laurels were to be obtained in such a contest, he made a conciliatory proposition, and conde scended to ask as a favcr, which he had ordered his coachman to obtain by force. Ah, now (said the collier) you behave like a gentleman, as you appear, and if you had been as civil at first, I vow I would have driven over the btonc wall to oblige you. But I wont he drove, z'cvj 1 ivont. 1 he coal driver made way, and the admiral passed on. When he arrived at Mr. B.'s, he rela ted the occurrence with much good hu mor, and appeared gratified with the spirit and independence of the man. Mr. B. assured the admiral, that "the collier had exhibited a true character of the American people, and that the story he had then related was an epit ome of the dispute bctwen Great Bri- ii.'iin ana her colonics. Kct the kmc -;. of :;s cur aid, and we will groin more than he will demnnd ; but we will not be "drove," we will not be taxed by parliament." Had the government of Great Bri tain been as conciliatory to Americans as the honest good hearted Montague was to the collier, we should probably now be the subjects of George the IV ! "The ways of heaven are dark and in tricate." We should still be servile dependents. Wc should not have a beautiful star spangled banner, peeping into every port in the world, in pursuit of enterprize and wealth. We should not now have merchants whose capital in trade is equal to that of a province, and making magnificent presents in support of literature and science that would do honor to princes. Let A mericans be thankful for these mercies, and a thousand others, and study to appreciate them. Vain ambition exposed to merited contempt. Sir Robert Porter, in his travels in Persia, &c. from 1817 to 1820, relates i an anecdote of Mirza - Shelly, ged about 75, who is prime minister to the King of Persia. He is a man of con siderable talent, and being the second person in the kingdom, i: treated by all ranks with the utmost deference. Though an avaricious man, he has ability to gratify that passion and at the same time to make sport for oth ers. His station gives him a kind ol reflecting consequence, that makes a smile or a nod from him, seem to shed honored infinitum downwards, gradu ating dignity according to its distance from the sovereign, the original foun tain of favor. Among those who had attended the minister's levees in hopes to obtain some peculiar mark of grace, was an individual who had no other qualification to recommend him than riches. Not having received the slightest notice, he one day privately mentioned the circumstance to the minister, and told him if on the next assembly of visitors his excellency would condescend to rise a little as lie should enter, it would afford him great happiness it would be the height of his ambition, as he should thenceforth be held of consequence in the eyes of uc khans ; and he named a considera ble sum of money which he would give his excellency for this honor. It was an agreement his excellency liked so well, he closed with the pro posal, and the time for the solemn in vesting dignity was arranged for the next day. The happy man took care not to make his appearance till the di van of the minister was pretty well filled. He then presented himself on the most conspicuous part of the car pet, big with ideas of the ever-growing honors, of which that moment was to make him master. He looked proud ly round on the rest of the khans, while Mirza ShefTy, half-raising himself from his seat, by his knuckles, and fixing his eyes gravely on him, to the no small astonishment of the rest of the company, exclaimed, 4 Is that enough:' The man was so overcome with confu sion, he hurried from the room : leav ing his distinction and his money alike with the minister ; but taking with him the useful lesson that bought honors are usually paid with disgrace. The laugh for once went, without doubt of sincerity, with the great man ; and his smiles became of still higher value, since it had been proved that he set them above price. FOR THE WESTF.IIX CAROLINIAN. Afessrs. Bingham Is? Jl'hzte : I have with no small satisfaction seen, within a few months, announced in your useful paper, the formation of several County Bible Societies, in this part of the state, " auxiliary to the American Bible Society." These societies, in my hum ble opinion, promise, under the direction of Divine Providence, to be rich blessings to those counties in which they have been established. Indeed, I cannot but hope that their benign iufluence will be felt far beyond the limits of our state and na tion. The bible, let it never be forgotten, was designed, like the glorious luminary of heaven, by its benevolent author, to diffuse its light over the world ! The multiplication of bibles is, to eve ry mind not wholly void of benevolence, a source of the most pleasing reflection. Unlike a majestic river, which, in its pro gress towards the ocean, is constantly re ceiving new tributaries, the bible, in its march towards the end of time, divides itself into innumerable branches, and vet remains a noble river in every respect, ; equal to the original stream, in all its beauty- strength, and glory I Never has the bible been owned by so many individ uals, never has it been possessed by so many families, never has it been transla ted into so many languages, as at the pres ent day. Nor, at any former period, have its fiiends ever been so numerous, so en lightened; so powerful, or so systematic in their exertions to circulate this blessed book among the destitute. Who that wishes well to his country and the world will not do so:ne thing to promote Bible Societies ? Who will stand aloof and sneer, or frown, when so many hands are so happily employed ? And, under the auspices of Prince Emmanuel, they are bringing their work of mercy to a glorious consummation. Against bible institutions it has often been urged as a triumphant argument, that there is no family in this part of the country so poor, that it cannot, if disposed, purchase a bible. The question is, not what a poor family can do, but ivhat has i: done, to procure a copy of the holy scrip tures ? It has been for years destitute o a bible. And there is a probability amount ing almost to a certainty, that it will remain for ijears to come without a bible, v-nles-: supplied with one by christian benevo- lencc. Surely no enlightened citizen, nc intelligent christian, can for a moment hesitate which course to pursue. It is: not, however, recommended to give, where there is a dispositioti to purchase. The smallest donation, if proportioned tc the ability of the individual, should not be refused. These remarks have been made with a view of exciting the numerous readers of the Carolinian to a punctual attendance at the approaching meeting of the Bible Society to which they respectively belong. " Punctuality" has been called "the soul of business." It is peculiarly important at the commencement of any new Society. A man, who cannot interest by his elo quence, or afford a princely donation; may, nevertheless, by his presence and counsels do much to promote Bible Socie ties. BEXEVOI.US. SELECTED. "Whosoever, therefore, shall be ashamed of me and of my words, in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him also shall the Son of man he ashamed, when he cometh in the glory of hi Father. Many and severe are the threats which we find denounced by Christ a gainst those who pretended an extraor dinary sanctity in their manners and conversation, without having any true sense of religion or morality in their hearts. The words before us are a threat, likewise, against hypocrites, but hypocrites of a very different sort ; those w ho pretend to be more profligate than they really are, and therefore may properly be called hypocrites in wickedness. These are much more numerous in the present times, and perhaps more mischievous than the former ; as those do honor to religion and virtue by their pretences to them, these affront them by an open disavow al. Those make others better than themselves, v.nd these worse, by their example. We meet with this ridicu lous and criminal kind of hypocrisy every day ; v.Te see men affecting to be guilty of vices for which they have no relish, of profligacy for which they have not constitutions, and of crimes which they have not courage to per form. They lay claim to the honour of cheating, at the time they are chea ted, and endeavour to pass for knaves, when, in fact, they are but fools. These are the offenders of whom Christ will be ashamed when he cometh in the glory of his Father ; which will be a dreadful but just punishment, and a proper retaliation of that foolish and impious modestv, which induced them to be ashamed of him and his word, in complaisance to a sinful and adul terous generation ; and to be less afraid of incurring the displeasure cf the best of nil Beings, than the profane rid icule of the worst of men. If there be a pleasure on earth which angels cannot enjoy, and which they might almost envy man the possession of, it is the power of relieving distress. If there be a pain which devils might pity man for enduring, it is the death-bed reflection that we have possessed the power of doing good, but that we have abused and per verted it to purposes of ill. Public chanties and benevolent associa tions for the gratuitous relief of every species of distress, are peculiar to Chris tianity ; no other system jaf civil or re ligious policy has originated them ; they form its highest praise and characteristic feature ; an order of benevolence, so dis interested, and so exalted, looking before and after, could no more have p.recsd-d revelation, than light the sun.