Õ་་

Original.

TRANSPLANTED.

"Died, in Paris, Ky., on Thursday evening, Feb. 15, after an illness of three weeks, ANN MARIA, only daughter of John R. Thornton, Esq., in the 17th year of her age."

SUCH is the brief announcement of the fall of one of those rare and lovely flowers which bloom on earth only to fade and die, but whose brief existence enables us to form some conception of their native beauties, when unfolded amid the paradise of God. Bloom? No! it was but a bud just displaying its delicate tints, when the Gardener removed it from the rude blasts which sweep over and blight terrestrial loveliness, to a more congenial clime, where those young beauties might bloom with unfading immortality. Lovely bud! Long and tenderly wast thou watched by anxious hearts. High did they beat with joyous exultation as, one after another, thy delicate charms were, with revolving years, brought to view! And severe was the stroke which removed thee from their care, although to bloom with celestial beauty above. Yet shall they again view thee, and far more lovely than when on earth; for imperfection no longer pertaineth to thee.

It was the privilege of the writer to become acquainted with the subject of the present notice during the autumn of the last year. By being for sometime an inmate of the family of her parents, he had a good opportunity of becoming well acquainted with her character-a character seldom surpassed in excellence by any of the imperfect offspring of mortality. It is not, however, the intention to eulogize the departed, but simply to narrate, very briefly, some of the scenes connected with the last few weeks of her life, illustrating as they do the power and the blessedness of the Gospel of Christ--a power which can divest death of his sting, and make the final hour one of joy unspeakable and full of glory. Ann Maria was blessed with pious parents. She had been early instructed in the ways of truth and religion. And it was the desire and effort of her parents, as her character developed itself, to interweave, as it were, with her very being the principles of the Gospel. The result has amply repaid them for their toil; for although she gave no evidence of a change of heart until a short time before her last illness, yet the way had been prepared the seed had been sown in faith, and wa

About the middle of January last, a protracted meeting was commenced in the Church of which her parents were members. The Holy Spirit's influences accompanied the prayers and labors of God's people, and about fifty were hopefully converted. Among these was Ann Maria, Having given her heart to the Savior, she came out publicly and consecrated her all to his service. She afterward remarked to a friend, that she had never known before what true happiness was, The child of affluence-with every desire, within the reach of parental fondness, gratified as soon as expressed-yet knew not the meaning of real happiness until she found it all in Christ!

A very few days after she made a public profession of religion, she was laid on a sick and dying bed. From the first she seemed to be fully impressed with the idea that she should not recover. During her illness she was very fond of hearing those around her sing the songs of Zion, in which, as long as her voice would permit, she joined with full heart.

On the morning of the day she died, one of her attendants sung the hymn

"I'll try to prove faithful."

She listened with deep emotion till the last stanza was finished, and then exclaimed, "O, that is so sweet!" During the same morning, after remaining silent for sometime, with her dying eyes raised to heaven, she addressed a female friend standing at her bedside, "I want to go up-I want to go up!"

During a greater part of the day she was partially insensible. Sometime during the afternoon she exclaimed, with a full voice, "Alleluia! amen!" thus clearly indicating where her thoughts were. For hours before her death, her countenance wore the aspect of most perfect serenity, excepting when now and then a smile passed over her wan features. And even the cruel monster, with his icy fingers, "dared not steal that signet ring of heaven." "Death gazed, and left it there."

About an hour before her death, one of her friends, anxious to ascertain if she were still conscious of the things around her, stooped down and whispered in her dying ear, "Here is your father; do you not wish to speak to him?" But she gave no sign of recognition. "Here is your mother." But she knew not the sound of her name. Her friend then repeated to her a line of her favorite hymn

"The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose," &c.a hymn which she had frequently sung during her illness. She turned her eye, now settling in death, and gave a sweet look of recognition, saying as plainly as look could do, that she understood that

name "that sweetest sound in seraphs' song," and that her soul "leaned for repose" solely on Jesus.

At ten minutes past seven o'clock, on Thursday evening, she sweetly fell asleep in Jesus. Her precious remains were deposited in a corner of her own flower garden, there to await in peace a blessed reunion with her glorified spirit, when the archangel's trumpet shall assemble the sleeping nations of the earth. Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like hers.

The following lines were suggested by that memorable expression-"I WANT TO GO UP-I WANT TO GO UP!"

I want to go up I want to go up

I see the blest spirits who beckon me on,
With glory resplendent, and radiant with joy,
They bid me unite in their own best employ,
Where bliss is eternal, without an alloy;
Since my labors and toils on the earth are now done,
I want to go up.

I want to go up-I want to go up:

O, why would ye cause me a longer delay ?
"Tis my Savior invites me "up hither ascend,
Where thy songs with the chorus of angels shall blend-
Where assemblies dissolve not and Sabbaths ne'er end,
Nor the soul's aspirations like clouds pass away;
Then higher come up."

I want to go up-I want to go up:

O, why must I longer remain from my home?
There is naught upon earth that suffices my soul-
There is naught worth possessing from centre to pole,
Where the waves of affliction continually roll:
Then why longer stay-from my Savior why roam?
I want to go up.

I want to go up-I want to go up:

Then farewell, dear friends of my life's early day—
Dear mother, dear father, dear brothers, farewell!
O, weep not, but list while, exulting, I tell
My Savior has broken death's oft-dreaded spell:
To his arms my wrapt spirit shall soon pass away:
I want to go up.

I want to go up-I want to go up:

I will trace the blest way to that Savior's bright throne;
Then, with pinions more rapid than thought can extend,
To my long cherished home on the earth I'll descend,
And guide you, dear loved ones, where unions ne'er end-
Where sorrow invades not, and parting 's unknown;
I want to go up.

I want to go up-I want to go up:

O, strive not to keep me yet longer below;
For I see my Redeemer from heaven's shining dome
Still calling me, "Rise, and ascend to thy home!"
Dear loved ones, farewell! My Savior, I come!
Unworthy, yet ransomed from guilt and from woe,
To thee I haste up.

Original.

SYMPATHY.

ADDRESSED TO REV. MRS. -, AFTER LEAVING THE GRAVE OF A MINISTER'S DECEASED WIFE.

BY MRS. M'CLINTICK.

AND didst thou stand and weep beside the grave
Of one who, like thyself, forsook her friends,
And childhood's home, to share the weal and woe
Of him who stood aloft on Zion's walls?
What thoughts, meanwhile, were passing in thy
breast,

That, unassuaged, thy tears did freely flow?
Did fancy picture to thy roving mind
Her death-bed scene-the loneliness and grief
Of him so sorely, suddenly bereft ?
Hadst thou stood by her dying couch, when hope
Had fled, and seen him bend, with flowing tears,
Over her wither'd form, and heard the tone
Of deep distress, in which he call'd her name-
Hadst heard no voice respond, and seen no sign
Betray her consciousness that he was near-
Hadst heard the piercing cry of bursting grief,
That from his stricken, anguish'd heart broke
forth-

Then thou hadst wept! Then there was cause to

weep.

No heart so hard that melted not-no eye
Was calm, that look'd upon the moving scene;
And ne'er, while memory in me lives, will it
Forgotten be.

Though years on years have fled,
It still before me comes. O, yes; and still
I seem to hear that sad and loud lament.
Thou thought'st, perhaps, that she 'mong strangers

died,

And there were few to feel or mourn her loss.
Not so; for years before she 'mong us liv'd,
And by her even course and gentle ways,
Had won the warmest love of many hearts;
And though 'twas not permitted, at the last,
That she should speak, and tell her anxious friends
Of prospects bright beyond the dreary tomb,
And angels near, to bear her spirit home,
Yet this we heeded not; nor could we doubt;
For none who looked upon her blameless life,
And heard her fervent, frequent prayers, and knew
Her firm reliance on a Savior's blood,

Like as she was, thou now art call'd to go
From place to place, as God in love appoints;
And when the Lord at length shall call thee hence,
O, mayst thou still like her thus favor'd be,
To lay thee down and gently die 'mong those
Who shall, as hers, bedew thy grave with tears!

Original.

SPRING.

COME, lovely Spring-gay lingerer come,
With all thy beauteous retinue:
Walk forth amid thy flowery train,

And spread o'er earth its gayest hue.

The minstrelsy in yonder grove
Are heralding thy coming forth;
And caroling from twig and limb,
In all the revelry of mirth.

Thou'rt here! we feel thy balmy power—
Thy beauties rise in thousand forms;
Through echoing hills thy voice resounds,
And verdant plains reflect thy charms.

Aurora scarce has decked the east

With ruby tints-her daily care— When, fairy form, thou wanderest forth, To kiss the flowers-perfume the air.

Mercies, my God, like waters,

With me their course begun; And, widening, deepening, sparkling, To this hour's point have run. Mercies, when strongly clinging,

In weakness, to the breast;
Mercies, in youth's hot fever,
And manhood's sober rest.
And shall I, when is ended
This brief probation's day,
Be endless gifts receiving,

That never waste away?
How may a perfect nature
Endure, the "weight" to bear
"Exceeding and eternal,
Of glory," given there!

NOTICES.

HISTORY OF THE DISCIPLINE OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH. By Robert Emory. New York: Lane & Sandford.-To understand a code of laws, municipal or ecclesiastical, it is necessary to trace each provision, whether statutory or common, as far as possible, toward its origin. Then it should be understood whether the enactment or precedent, as the case may be, was restraining, enlarging, or remedial, in its intention. The position is then assumed, from which the law interpreter or the law maker can, with every conceivable advantage, proceed to exercise his functions.

Mr. Emory has placed it in the power of Methodist ministers, on circuits and on districts-in the quarterly, annual, and General conferences, to reach that most desirable ground. As to the General conference now at hand, we would not venture to express the degree in which its members will be indebted to Mr. Emory for that work of standard and pre-eminent merit, which we here so briefly notice. No minister or layman who wishes thoroughly to understand our Church polity, would consider this a dear book, even at thrice its actual cost.

APPEAL FROM TRADITION TO SCRIPTURE AND COMMON SENSE. By Geo. Peck, D. D. New York: Lane & Sandford. 12mo., pp. 470.-Dr. Peck has written well and argued conclusively on the "rule of faith"-a theme which for centuries was scarcely debated, and seemed to be ultimately and for ever settled; but by malicious machination suddenly springs up again to vex the feeble minded, and peril unstable souls. Dr. Peck states and examines the traditionary system; notices at large the arguments in favor of tradition, refutes them, and shows, finally, that Holy Scripture is a sufficient, and an exclusive rule of faith. We have only space to add, that the several topics are treated in a masterly manner, and that the Protestant argument is absolutely irrefutable.

METHODISM, IN ITS ORIGIN, ECONOMY AND PRESENT POSITION. By Rev. James Dixon, D. D., ExPresident of the Wesleyan Conference. Revised by the Editor. New York: Lane & Sandford.-A sermon preached before the British conference, and the fathers of the Church, by Dr. Dixon, and published at their request, has grown, by revision, into a 24mo. of 360 pages. It is one of the most valuable issues of the Wesleyan English press. Text, Phil. iii, 16. Let all true friends of Methodism, especially preachers, study this sermon.

THE LIFE OF THE REV. ROBERT R. ROBERTS, ONE OF THE BISHOPS OF THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH. By Rev. Charles Elliott, D. D. Cincinnati: Published by J. F. Wright & L. Swormstedt. 1844.-It would be almost miraculous if this book had not defects. The only wonder is that it possesses so much biographical interest and merit. Seldom was the life of a good man, in so high a sphere of moral usefulness, produced out of materials so inadequate. Unusual perseverance was enlisted in composing it, or it never would have reached the press.

By scanty materials, we do not mean that the character of Bishop R. could not supply them. There was enough of him to have made a most valuable biography; and his times were replete with just such incidents, connected with his career, as would have heightened inconceivably the interest of his personal memoirs. The

records alone were wanting. His was a busy life. And from his own pen he left almost nothing for the use of his biographer. Dr. Elliott says, in the preface:

"After collecting and arranging all he could from his own resources and personal knowledge of the Bishop, the author proceeded to Indiana, assembled together the widow, and old acquaintances and relatives of the Bishop, and wrote down from their lips every thing they could recollect worthy of preservation. The same process was observed among his friends and neighbors at Shenango, in Mercer county, Pennsylvania, and every scrap of information which they furnished was secured. As far, therefore, as the materials go, the facts are well || authenticated, and may be relied on."

Under all the circumstances, we are so far from faulting the excellent author of the book, that we indulge only gratitude to him and to Providence, that so many passages in the life of the good Bishop are rescued from undeserved oblivion. The chapter on succession adds greatly to the value of the book; and we trust that, in the order of kind Providence, Dr. Elliott will yet amplify the discussion of this and kindred themes, and that the Church will have the fruits of his long and skillful attention to that whole range of literature, which so eminently qualifies him to write on these debated topics. We wish the General conference would move him (if he cannot obey a lighter impulse) to devote his maturest energies to this great work.

On sale, with all the above, at Cincinnati Book Room. NARRATIVE OF THE TEXAN AND SANTA FE EXPEDITION, comprising a Description of a Tour through Texas, the capture of the Texans and their march as prisoners to Mexico, with illustrations and a map. By Geo. W. Kendall. Two volumes, 8vo. New York: Harper & Brothers. Mr. Kendall had, in the first place, materials for an interesting book. His captivity and travels were replete with incidents suited to employ his gifted pen. And we need not say that he knew how to use his materials. He has a manner sufficiently graphic and unique to impart extraordinary interest to his descriptions. These volumes are not intended to be strictly statistical. They are more for entertainment than instruction. Yet they do blend exciting incident with important information. The book presents the every day occurrences, whether comic or semi-tragic, of his wanderings and misfortunes, in lively colors. We greatly prefer these sketches to mere fancy manufacture. Even if the writer imposed on his imagination a slight share of the labor-of which we do not accuse him-it comes to us as a narrative, and as such we read it, and are innocent of all intention to trace the errantries of an unbridled mind. Mr. Kendall turns his captivity to a good account; and surely he had a right to levy a tax on his own misfortunes, for his personal advantage, and for the entertainment and improvement of his contemporaries. We have not room at present to give our readers extracts from the book.

THE HEART, delineated in its State by Nature and as renewed by Grace. By Hugh Smith, D. D., Rector of St. Peter's Church, New York. New York: Harper & Brothers. We would speak in the highest terms of praise of this excellent little volume. The author's plan is unexceptionable. He eschews fiction. He speaks like a Christian minister on this topic. In his preface

he says:

"It had been easy to have thrown this little work into the narrative form, or to have given to it the attraction of fictitious incident, the embellishment of a fancy dress; but the author, from principle, was unwilling to minister to what he has long deemed a vitiated public taste, or to swell the number of those sacred fictions which tend, he is persuaded, to enervate the youthful mind, to diminish the reverence of the youthful heart, and to clothe the hallowed form of religion in too light and loose attire. Having on other occasions publicly expressed his conviction of their injurious tendency, and awakened some attention to the necessity of a change in public taste and practice, he is disposed consistently to act upon his expressed opinions, and to hazard the experiment whether truth may not be popularly and attractively presented, though it come in its own simple form, and rest only on its intrinsic merit."

We thank Dr. Smith, and praise God for this wholesome testimony. Novels are a cardinal curse of the age. Thousands of backsliding professors, bound to perdition, are the victims of this curse. Religious novels are a species of sacrilege. They carry religion into hell, so shaped and phased as to please the devil and his angels. Like religious (?) tea parties, they ease the consciences of sinners of all misgivings, and open the way for full indulgence, so that reveling in the "Mysteries of Paris," or elsewhere, they point to the pseudo novel reading of the Church, and say, "We merely imitate Christ's disciples!" Dr. Smith's delineation of the heart is a grave, well written treatise on one of the most interesting themes. Buy and read it.

PHARMACOLOGIA; An extended inquiry into the operations of Medical bodies, upon which are founded the Theory and Art of Prescribing. By J. A. Paris, M. D., Cantab., F. R. S. From the Ninth London Edition, with Notes. By Charles A. Lee, M. D., A. M., of the University of the City of New York. Harper & Brothers. This standard work on THE PHILOSOPHY OF MEDICINAL COMBINATION," needs nothing to recommend it. It must be sufficient to announce its republication to the "Faculty," and it will find a ready sale. Whether this edition is in the hands of the editor of the "Lancet," we know not, but we propose to secure a notice of it in that excellent journal, by which we shall bestow a favor on its publishers, to whom we are obliged for frequent and valued favors.

HARPER'S PICTORIAL BIBLE. Number II.-This is an improvement, in some points, on the former number. None can object to its engravings.

NEAL'S HISTORY OF THE PURITANS. Numbers II and III. New York: Harper & Brothers.

M'CULLOCH'S GAZETTEER, Numbers VIII and IX. New York: Harper & Brothers.

LIFE OF ANDREW JACKSON. Number III, with cuts. New York: Harper & Brothers.

These we have often noticed in former numbers. All the above publications, from the press of the Harpers, are on sale at the Cincinnati Book Room.

EIGHTH ANNUAL REPORT OF THE YOUNG MEN'S BIBLE SOCIETY OF CINCINNATI, auxiliary to the American Bible Society, with the Constitution, etc., November, 1843.-The eighth annual report of this society shows, that 1023 Bibles and 3254 Testaments were distributed by it during the preceding year, making an aggre