POETRY. Rest, Sister Rest. Rest, Sister rest, thy work is o'er, Thy task all done, what would ye more? Rest, Sister rest, rest with thy God, We'll strive to reach thy high abode, Strive by the Spirit's aid and prayer, To dwell forever with thee there. Rest, Sister rest, we would not call Rest, Sister rest, e'en o'er thy grave Rest, Sister rest, as strangers bow. Labor. Ho, ye who at the anvil toil, And strike the sounding blow While answering to the hammer's ring, To have no work to do. Ho, ye who till the stubborn soil, But while ye feel 'tis hard to toi Remember it is harder still To have no work to do. Ho, ye who plough the sea's blue field- Beneath whose gallant vessel's keel Around whose barque the wintry winds Like fiends of fury rave, Oh, while ye feel 'tis hard to toil Ho, ye, upon whose fevered cheeks The hectic glow is bright, Whose mental toil wears out the day Who labour for the souls of men, Ho, all who labor-all who strive !- Do with your might, do with your strength, The glorious privilege to do Is man's most noble dower. A weary, wretched life is theirs, [Caroline F. Orne. A friend should bear with his friend's infirmities, but not with his vices.' French Proverbs, Bon mots, &c.— 26. L'infini est partout, le fini n'est qu'une apparence. Ce qu'on appelle fini n'est qu'un infini à l'état latent ou virtuel. 27. Aimer, c'est être heureux; hair, c'est être malheureux. Ajoutons sans cesse l'amour à lui-même et soustrayons la haine, voilà toute l'arithmétique du bonheur. A. GUYARD. Italian Maxims, Proverbs, &c. 1. Gli scrittori che non han la forza di scrivere delle opere, son quelli quasi sen.pre che riescono nella critica. Da un vino debole ed insipido fassi eccelente aceto. 2. E peggiore un cattivo filosofo che un idi. ota. Questi non ragionando lascia susitere gli errori che ci sono; quegli mal ragionando ne accresce il novero. Solution to Enigma No. 44, p. 452.-The letter r. Translation of French Proverbs, &c., p. 432. 25. Nothing surprises philosophy: surprize assails only the vulgar. THE AMERICAN MAGAZINE, AND FAMILY NEWSPAPER; With numerous Engravings. Edited by Theodore Dwight. Is published weekly, at the office of the New York Express, No. 112 Broadway, at 4 cents a number, or, to subscribers paying in advance, $2 a year. 7 sets for $10. Monthly, in covered pamphlets, at same price. Postmasters are authorized to remit money, and are requested to act as agents. Enclose a Two Dollar Bill, without payment of postage, and the work will be sent for the year. Vols. I. and II., half-bound, or in muslin, $2.50 each, may be ordered through booksellers. When we recommend Grecian architecture to our countrymen, it is always with limitations, expressed or implied. Here is a picture of a mansion, such as we sometimes see in our travels, with many of the correct and noble features of Grecian taste, yet destitute of that propriety, that adaptation to our condition, which alone we can approve. Such an edifice would be appropriate to a family of rank in Europe. It has the aspect of display, as well as of magnificence, corresponding with the state of hereditary wealth and nobility. We do not mean to say that we like division of ranks, nor that we like to contemplate such evidences of it, even in fine specimens of architecture. We intend only that such an edifice in Europe would have the advantage over one of the same kind on this side of the Atlantic, in the important point of being appropriate to the institutions of the country. Let us consider for a moment what feature in the edifice above depicted is incompatible with our state of society, our order of things: what part of it produces in our minds an impression of a want of propriety. We see with pleasure its ample size, presuming that it is designed for a family consisting of many members, of hospitable habits and of ample means to support it. The wide and smooth lawn in which we suppose ourselves standing, the shady trees with which it is tastefully planted, and the seats placed beneath their shelter, strike us with pleasure, ast does the extensive green house, except that it is injudiciously brought forward to the line of the mansion; when it should be placed quite back, or at a distance on one side. The proportions also between the length, breadth and height, in the building, its doors and its windows, are such, in general, as true taste de. mands; and its elevation above the ground with the broad carriage-way, stretching before it, adds a good effect to the view. But we should object to a colonnade, which forms so prominent a feature of an edifice, and often covers almost the whole front. With a roof quite too small to afford shade or a shelter, at such a height from the floor, and entirely open to the storms, this is so evidently designed for ornament alone, that it has no pretensions whatever to be designed for utility. The very first impression of it therefore is that it was erected for display; and this is a feature quite at variance from all our practices and opinions, our taste as well as our judgment. And, as this part forms the most striking impression, being, as before remarked, the most prominent feature presented to view, it stamps the whole with a character inappropriate to the country. While we view this as a private building, these are the opinions we are led to form respecting it; and we think we shall have the good sense of our countrymen with us, so far as they see fit to give the subject a little attention. What family or what individual have we in our country, who would wisely rear a very stately edifice, of such size and pretensions? The contrast would be so great with their recent condition, that the moral effect would be mean in proportion. At the same time, the instability of human affairs would direct the mind to look forward, and foretell a second turn of the wheel of Fortune: so that the more splendid the mansion, the more striking a memorial would it seem not only of a past change, too recent to be forgotten, but also of a future one, too certain and too near to be doubted. There are other points of view in which it would be well for a projector to contemplate his plans, before he proceeds to their execution. The house of our choice, and still more the house of our construction, must proclaim our views of things, as well as our estimate of ourselves. If we lay out our money on a showy mansion, we practically declare, that we estimate display more than comfort, propriety, the enjoyments of society, or of the mind. If, on the contrary, a man of wealth retires to a neat and commodious dwelling, with such an exterior and such arrangements as indicate seclusion from the public gaze, we may hope, on enter ing his door, to find a library well furnished and faithfully used, a polished mind, a benevolent heart. We are all displeased by a tawdry dress, and almost equally so by a very rich and splendid one, on a person of low character and mean manners. Though he may possess wealth, that is not sufficient to reconcile us to his assuming clothes worthy of a superior man. Even a very plain dress, if it be such as usually marks men of learning and refinement, would never be agreeable to us on such a person. The house which we would erect to dwell in may be compared with the garments we put on. It in some degree displays our views of ourselves and our estimate of things. Many a person may entertain a high opinion of himself, and a low one of his neighbours, who would have too much common sense to express it in words, or even to intimate it very distinctly by his conduct: but the plan or aspect of a dwelling may hold up the same idea to public view, in a form, not less intelligible; and it has this peculiar objection, that it is not easily charged. Indeed it is usually unchangeable. Although the period of splendid buildings has been but of short date in our country, and is still greatly limited in space, we have already too many examples of those reverses in families, which throw a mournful shade over the aspect of a mansion, reared by an ambitious ancestor. Poverty puts its seal on the exterior, or, like hermit-snails, strangers enjoy and display what was designed for the original possessor. Among the false ideas in architecture which at present wound the senses of a man of taste, those respecting the size of houses are among the most prominent in this city. Now that dwellings are no longer confined to single lots of twentyeight feet front, or twenty-five feet, as most of them were a few years ago, since we begin to have them erected of double those sizes, it seems to be thought necessary to give them a corresponding height. Then dignity of effect is much in vogue; to secure which the stories are made very high. It is not too much to say, that not only the convenience and comfort, but also the health, of many of our inhabitants are thus daily injured, by the labor of climbing stair-cases, made one-third or one-half longer than they should be. And how foolish does such an error appear, how unreasonable, how injurious when we recur for a moment to the amount of labor and fatigue thrown upon those who have most frequently to mount to such heights: the servants, the children, the feeble, the aged, the decrepid. How poor to them must soon appear the consolation, that the public look upon the exterior of their dwelling with admiration! But even this enjoyment is soon denied to most of them, and is perpetually liable to be taken from any: for a new mansion may rise beside or opposite, when yonder man has accumulated a little more money. He has rivalry in his heart, it is now his turn, and he has only to instruct his architect to enlarge a little the dimensions of the last and most magnificent model, and the thing is done. For the rest of their lives the occupants of the present house must labor up and down their wearisome staircases, with the sad reflections of the convicts on the tread-mills, yet destitute of their consolations. They must feel that it is a punishment; but neither calculated for their improvement, nor limited to any term short of their natural lives. It was not without compassion that we looked, in our foreign travels, on the lof ty palaces of Europe, when we turned to the private apartments, and recurred to the fact, that nobility and royalty belong to beings of as small stature, as feeble strength and as precarious health as ourselves. But it seemed some apology for those who had condemned them to such prisons, that the object in magnifying them was not personal vanity, but public respect. How poor a service does one of our fellow-citizens perform, both to the public and to his family, when he makes, what is familiarly, but not inaptly termed, "a palace of a house!" AN ARAB PRINCE IN PARIS.-There arrived among us on the 5th of May, a real Arab Prince, Ben Mouza by name. Our new guest is a man of about 25 or 26 years of age, of about the middling stature, and with a countenance expressive of boldness and energy. He has handsome eyes, black, and full of fire, an aquiline nose, and thick lips like a mulatto. Upon each of his cheeks, near his nose, is a little blue tatooing, which is said to be the distinctive mark of the noble sheiks. His hands are large, although slightly emaciated. His costume, it is I said, is precisely that of Abdel Kader. In conversation he displays the most resolute and energetic character. "While I was fighting against you," said he, "if Marshal Bugead had fallen into my hands, I should have had him burnt to satisfy my rage; now, after the cordial reception given me by him at Algiers, I should suffer myself to be killed a hundred times, rather than that he should meet with the slightest harm." Ben Mouza is awaiting with impatience for the government to accept his services; he asks but to be employed in the pursuit of Abdel Kader, from whom he has received the most outrageous affronts. Indeed, in the month of November last, the Emir sought to have him assassinated, and he only escaped by abandoning his women and his baggage. "Abdel Kader," said he, with warmth, "is a traitor; you have given him powder, guns and cannon, and he has revolted against you. As for me, I will prove that those whom my heart selects, I can both love and serve. would have carried on the war with him, with men whom I had gathered myself and upon my own resources, and the hand that I should have tendered to you, would have been only that of an enemy; but that could not be." Ben Mouza is covered with wounds. His arms and legs are marked with scars; and his body in fact is nothing but a sieve, notwithstanding its sound appearance. His left arm is stiffened, and he still suffers much pain from the splinters which remain in his wounds. Pointing to these glorious evidences of his courage, he says with emo tion, my heart was filled with hate against the French, but with the blood which has run from these wounds made by them, my hatred has departed, and my heart is now purified." Never has Ben Mouza quitted the field of battle to have his wounds dressed; many times had he been surrounded by the French soldiers who have often had his horse by the bridle; and all his numerous wounds, with the exception of the one on his left arm, made by a ball, have been received in the melɛe, man to man, and were caused by the cut of the sabre or the thrust of the bayonet.-SEL. 66 Have the courage to provide an entertainment for your friends, within your means-not beyond.-SEL. BIOGRAPHICA L. Joseph John Gurney, Esq. "For nearly two centuries the house of Gurney has possessed influence in Norwich. Joseph John Gurney, the third son of John and Catherine Gurney, the sister of Priscilla Wakefield, was born in Earlham Hall, on the 2d of August, 1788. A person of the same name, one of his ancestors, and a member of the Society of Friends, appears from the record of "the Sufferings of the People called Quakers," to have been a prisoner, with several others, in Norwich gaol, in 1683, for refusing to take an oath. The Waller Bacon, of Earlham, who committed him, was at that time resident in the very hall which the descendants of the persecuted prisoner now occupy. The father of our lamented friend, an extensive dealer in hand-spun yarn, became subsequently a partner in the banking business. He was a man of active mind and habits; public spirited and benevolent; and his house at Earlham was a scene of hospitality. The care of a family of eleven children devolved almost entirely upon his wife, who possessed an enlarged and well cultivated mind, with a refined taste, and high conscientiousness. As she died in 1792, her son Joseph was soon deprived of maternal care, and his yet infant years were committed to the intelligent and affectionate training of his three elder sisters; one of whom, who still survives, supplied, as far as a sister could supply, a mother's place; and another of whom, the late Mrs. Fry, had probably no small degree of influence in inspiring his mind with those principles, which she herself afterwards so nobly carried out into beneficent practice. During the earlier years of this interesting family, true religion had not the controlling and sanctifying power over their minds which it subsequently acquired. When the education of our friend ceased to be conducted at home, it was intrusted to the Rev. J. H. Browne, a clergyman at Hingham, about twelve miles from Earlham; and it was subsequently matured at Oxford, where he had an excellent private tutor, the Rev. John Rogers, a man of varied learning; and where he attended the lectures of the professors, and enjoyed many of the valuable privileges of the University, though without becoming a member of it, and without subscribing to the Thirty-nine Articles. He had an extensive acquaintance with the Hebrew and Syriac languages, as well as with classics, mathematics, and general science. Attached, even in early life, to biblical studies, he had critically read the Old and New Testaments in the original languages, in the Syriac Peschito, and in the Latin vulgate, before he was twenty-two years of age; and he wes well acquainted with Rabbinical and Patristic writings. His early studies were pursued and matured in after life, and all the intellectual wealth and power which they afforded, were consecrated to the advancement of truth and piety in himself and others. In person he was tall, erect and manly; and his countenance, which seemed the bright abode of combined intelligence and goodness, exhibited much attractive loveliness in his youth. He was an object of admiration and attachment to his juvenile acquaintance; and when we consider the sweetness of his disposition, his social sympathies, and his bright worldly prospects, we may gratefully acknowledge that his preservation from the powers of temptation, was an evidence of the divine care and mercy. Some of his juvenile years were consecrated to Sunday-school teaching, chiefly for the purpose of instructing a class of young persons in scriptural religion; and some men of reputation and usefulness now in Norwich, were once children in his 'first day' school. From that time forward, he was an enlightened and zealous advocate and laborer in the cause of popular education. The public school at Ackworth, as well as other schools, belonging to the Society of Friends, received his attention and support; and he composed, for the use of his pupils, "A Plan of Scriptural Instruction," which embraces a compendious system of Scripture history, doctrines, and duties. He was also a warm admirer and a liberal supporter of the British school system; and many parts of the country can bear witness to the liberality with which he assisted in the erection and maintenance of public schools. One of his latest acts was to attend the annual examination of the British school, in Palace street, Norwich; and at the close of the engagement, a map of England and Wales, which some of the boys had drawn out, was presented to him in the |