Lines, by D. Maxwell, 18 Lines, by J. Tomlin, 292 Lyre Bird, the, by N. C. Brooks, 292 Lines, by J. E. Dow, 297
Mocking Bird, to the 27 Meeting of the Lovers, the, by F. W. Thomas, 38 My Mother’s Bible, by G. P. Morris, 51 Major Dade’s Command, 84 Merry England, by J. R. Lowell, 238 Marriage, by Rufus Dawes, 239
O, say, do I na’ lo’e ye, Lassie, 64 Oh! a Merry Life does a Hunter lead, by G. P. Morris, 108
Precipice, by H. J. Vernon, 12 Pet Lamb, the, by A. A. Irvine, 193 Portrait, Lines to a, by A. C. Ainsworth, 297
Reproof of a Bird, by J. E. Snodgrass, 103
Stanzas, by Mrs. E. C. Stedman, 27 Sybil and Maiden, by G. G. Foster, 39 Sonnet, by Park Benjamin, 53 Sonnets, by H. B. Hirst, 220 Sweet South Wind, the, by Mrs. L. J. Pierson, 286
Woman’s Dower, by Mrs. L. J. Pierson, 9 Withered Rose, the, by A. A. Irvine, 78 Widow, the, by Mrs. M. S. B. Dana, 84 Wildwood Home, the, by Mrs. L. J. Pierson, 103 Widow’s Wealth, the, by Mrs. E. C. Stedman, 108 Why should I love thee? by J. S. Du Solle, 119 With Thee, by Mrs. C. H. W. Esling, 213
Cottage Life. The Gleaners. Fashions for July, (four figures,) colored. The Penitent Son. Fashions for August, (four figures,) colored. Lace Work and Flowers, colored. The Cottage Fireside. Cottage Piety. Fashions for September, (four figures,) colored. Brother and Sister. The Valley of Wyoming. Lace Work and Flowers, colored. Fashions for October, (four figures,) colored. The Pet Lamb. Embossed View of Boston. Fashions for November, (four figures,) colored. Hawking. Lace Work and Flowers, colored. Fashions for December, (four figures,) colored.
Away, then, to the Mountains, 42 Farewell! if ever Fondest Prayer, 88 My bonnie blue-eyed Lassie, O! 138 Bye-gone Hours, 184 Never shall my Heart forget Thee, 244
Vol. XIX. PHILADELPHIA: JULY, 1841. No. 1.
The summer is here!—here with its fragrant mornings and its noonday heats, its mellow twilights and its moonlight evenings, its days of glory and its nights of starry beauty. It is summer. Let us go out into the country, away from the stifling air and dull brick walls of the town, into the far, pure, breezy, unsurpassable country. There we shall breathe the fresh air of Heaven. We will lie down on some shady knoll; or stretch ourselves beside the cooling stream; or wander off among the breezy woods; or perchance sit in some quiet arbor of the garden, listening to the low humming of the bees, or the far-off tinkle of the brooklet on the stones. Ay! we will go out into the country. We will gaze on the green grass, the growing flowers, the cloudless azure of the skies. But we will do more. We will gaze on our fellow man such as God made him, and not on the too often mean, grovelling and short-sighted denizens of the town. We will go out into the country. We will go into its stately palaces, secluded among sombre trees; into the airy, fantastic dwellings of retired citizens; into sunny old farm-houses, with their wide porches inviting us to enter; and—oftener than all—into the smiling cottages, which, peeping out from amid overspreading honeysuckles, dozing under willow trees by the brook-side, or nestling beneath the shadow of a green and fragrant hill, are scattered all over the land, in hill and in dell, studding it, as it were, with loveliness. And wherever we go we shall still find beauty. God hath left his impress on the green fields and running brooks, and every leaf that quivers in the breeze, and every bird that carols on the air, speak out His praise.