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Still, still undaunted will I be,

And find the holiest calm with thee.

That people whom thou call'st thy own,
Shall only to my heart be known,
And our great Father, Gop, above,
With equal warmth we both will love.

Where'er thy last expiring breath,
Is yielded to relentless Death,
On that same spot will Charlotte die,
And in the tomb, thy Charlotte lie.
The Lord do this, and more to me,
If more than this, part thee from me,
As living, but one heart we own,
So dying, we will still be ONE.



THERE is a spot where slow decays
The wreck of former, better days;
Where, blasted by inclement skies,
A noble ruin wasting lies.

There is an hour when insects play
And flutter in the blaze of day;
But shun to court the hallow'd gloom
That sheds its shelter on the tomb.
There is an hour to sorrow dear
When Pity sheds her tend'rest tear;
When moon-beams kiss the mould'ring pile,
And gild its features with a smile.

The tear of love that seeks to lave

The turf that hides Misfortune's grave
Shall bless the spot where slow decays

The wreck of former, better days!

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Tell her whose youthful heart beats high

To future days

That now so fair in prospect lie,

How soon our dearest transports die.
Tell her whose cheek

The blush of conscious pleasure wears,
That they who seek

To find delights unmix'd with cares
Shall own the fond deceit in tears.
Say that while charms

Which Hebe's transient presence lends

The bosom warms,

Time's envious breath the canker sends
That youth's enchanting season ends.
To her whom health

With ruddy blushes high illumes,
Say that by stealth

Disease to palid wrinkles dooms,

The cheek that now so sweetly blooms.
Tell her whose form

The partial hand of Beauty gave,

That from the worm

Kind Pity's touch shall never save

The charms that moulder in the grave!

Go, idle lays!

Tell her whose youthful heart beats high

To future days

That now so fair in prospect lie,

How soon our dearest transports die!

Then softly say

That, when terrestrial joys and pains

Shall melt away,

The soul, absolv'd from sensual stains,
Shall soar where bliss immortal reigns!


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THE town of Bristol, romantically situated on one of the most verdant margins of the Delaware, is one of those enchanting spots in the bosom of nature, on which the philosopher, the lover, the studious and the social, with equal rapture repose. Separated from Burlington on the Jersey side, the eye of the painter, the poet, and the enthusiast is at once refreshed and recreated by all the sylvan honours of Bristol. Among its rural joys, at this enchanting season, the liberal establishment which the taste and judgment of Dr. Minnick have conspired to enhance in the estimation of the man of pleasure, or the victim of disease, may be justly enumerated. The mineral spring, which the analysis of science has demonstrated so salutary to many a sufferer; the sporting country in the vicinage, so gladsome to the robust hunter, or the patient fisherman; the variegated landscape, the aliment of the naturalist; the bird's eye view of Burlington, the delight of every traveller, every scholar, and every friend, all unite to convince him, whose soul is corroded by the cares of a crowded city, that here, at least for a season, something like contentment, some3 0




thing like positive pleasure, may, alas! too transiently, perhaps, be nobly enjoyed. He, with fevered frame, who is anxious to allay his fervours in the crystal wave, he who is studious with the scrutinizing eyes of Botany to explore the secrets of the shrub, and detect the latent essences of the flower; he, who has been harassed by the din of commerce, and of crowds, the

fumum, opes, strepitumque Romæ,

may find, at Bristol, the blandishments of beauty, the fragrance of foliage, the loneliness of solitude, the interchange of society; vivid verdure and perennial flowers.

The public spirited proprietor of the hotel and baths of this vicinity, has been alike liberal of his time and his property to effectuate every purpose of public accommodation. The mansion for the reception of travellers, the offices for the accommodation of domestics; the larder, for the luxury of the gourmand: and the cellar for Bacchus's hoard, all testify that anxious wish to please, which liberal men of the world cannot fail to appreciate generously.

Of the character of the mineral springs in this neighbourhood, which has conferred so much celebrity on their site it would be impertinent on the part of the writer of this crude article to expatiate. Accurate analysis* made by accomplished chymists, demonstrate the salubrious powers of the Naiades of Bath and Bristol. Drs. Rush and Denormandie, with all the weight of authority and science, have, correctly, inclined to the conclusion that our Bath waters are decidedly chalybeate; and that their boldest and most liberal exhibition to the debilitated, the hypochondriacal, the dyspeptic and paralytic patient will be followed up by effects of the happiest augury.

*The Editor understands that his friends, Dr. James Cutbush, and Dr. Benezet have very ably investigated the properties of these salutary streams, so eagerly quaffed by many an invalid. To the researches of such men, ardent to pursue, and liberal to impart truth, the honest inquirer, the nervous valetudinarian, the votary of science, and the victim of pleasure, are equally indebted. Too much praise cannot be conferred upon those, who, amid the importunate cares of professional life, still find, or create intervals of leisure, which are devoted to the promotion of all that can be salutary to the species, or honourable to the individual

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Continui montes, nisi dissocientur opaca

Valle; sed ut veniens dextrum latus aspiciat Sol,
Lævum discedens curru fugiente vaporet.
Temperiem laudes,

Dicas adductum propiùs frondere Tarentum.
Fons etiam rivo dare nomen idoneus, ut nec
Frigidior Thracam nec purior ambiat Hebrus,
Infirmo capiti fluit utilis, utilis alvo.

Hæ latebræ dulces, etiam (si credis) amœnæ.


THE town of Bedford, in the neighbourhood of which those springs have their source, and from which they receive their name, is situate on the great Pennsylvania-road, leading from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh, two hundred miles from the former, and one hundred from the latter. The site of the town is healthful and beautiful beyond description. Built upon an eminence formed of limestone and silex, it is always clean. Almost enveloped with mountains, which pour their limpid streams into the vallies, and which are deeply shaded by forest-trees, the inhabitants of this village enjoy delightful summers: never incommoded by heat, they are refreshed by pure and cooling breezes, which either play on the hill, or sport in the dale.

West of the town, is Will's mountain, which begins a little north of Bedford, and runs a few degrees to the west of south. Its altitude is more than thirteen hundred feet. On the east is Dunning's mountain, which runs parallel to Will's mountain and is eleven hundred feet in height. These ranges of mountains are about one mile and a half distant from each other at their bases. The numerous fountains to which those ridges give birth, generally discharge waters remarkably pure and transparent; but not so very cold as might be expected, in so deep and narrow a valley. It is well known that the air, cæteris paribus, in those regions, where the forests have not been disturbed, is purer than in those, where they have been partially tamed by the hand of cultivation, an advantage which the atmosphere around these springs possesses; and for ages to come,

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