“When quite a young man, I was thrown much into gay company, and there acquired a bad habit of using all kinds of intoxicating drinks with a dangerous freedom. Before I was conscious of my error, I was verging on rapidly to the point of losing all self-control. Startled at finding myself in such a position, I made a resolution to abandon the use of every thing but wine. This, however, did not reach the evil. The taste of wine excited my appetite to such a degree that I invariably resorted to brandy for its gratification. I then abandoned the use of wine, as the only safe course for me, and, with occasional exceptions, have strictly adhered to my resolution. In a few instances young ladies, at whose houses I visited, have presented me with wine, and not wishing to push back the proffered refreshment, I have tasted it. The consequence was invariable. A burning desire for stronger stimulants was awakened, that carried me away as by an irresistible power. You, Rose, never tempted me in this way. Had you done so, we might not have been as happy as we are to-day.” A shudder passed through the frame of the young wife, as she remembered the glass of wine she had been so near presenting to his lips. Never afterward could she think of it without an inward tremor. And fears for the future mingled with her thoughts of the past; but these have proved groundless fears, for Mr. Newton has no temptation at home, and he has resolution enough to refuse a glass of wine in any company, and on all occasions. Herein lies his safety. “What! refuse a harmless glass of wine?” will sometimes be said to him. To this he has but one answer. “Pure wine may be harmless in itself; so is light—yet light will destroy an inflamed eye.” * * * * * NORTHAMPTON. BY HENRY T. TUCKERMAN. Ere from thy calm seclusion parted, O fairest village of the plain! The thoughts that here to life have started Draw me to Nature’s heart again. The tasseled maize, full grain, or clover, Far o’er the level meadow grows, And through it, like a wayward rover, The noble river gently flows. Majestic elms, with trunks unshaken By all the storms an age can bring, Frail sprays whose rest the zephyrs waken, Yet lithesome with the juice of spring. By sportive airs the foliage lifted, Each green leaf shows its white below, As foam on emerald waves is drifted, Their tints alternate come and go. And then the skies! when vapors cluster From zenith to horizon’s verge, As wild gusts ominously bluster, And in deep shade the landscape merge;— Under the massive cloud’s low border, Where hill-tops with the sky unite, Like an old minster’s blazoned warder, There scintillates an amber light.