And still as I floated by rock and by shell, My bark raised a murmur aloud, And it danced on the waves, as they rose and they fell, Like a fay on a bright summer cloud. I thought, as I passed o'er the liquid expanse, With the landscape in smiling array, How blest I should be, if my life could advance, Thus tranquil and sweetly away. The skies were serene--not a cloud was in sight, Not an angry surge beat on the shore, And I gazed on the waters and then on the light, Till my vision could bear it no more. Oh, long shall I think of those silver-bright lakes, And the scenes they revealed to my view, My friends, and the wishes I formed for their sakes, And my bright yellow birchen canoe! _Michilimackinack, September, 1837._ H. R. S. MARK! BY PATER ABRAHAM A SANCTA CLARA. In Two Parts.--Part Two. THE eloquent Pater, after the colloquy between Death and the soldiers of Vienna, as given in a former number, turns from Mars, and, by an easy transition, passes to Venus, and begins his homily to maidens. He mentions the miracle wrought by the prophet with the widow's cruise of oil, and draws from it a reflection we do not recollect to have yet heard 'improved' in the pulpit. 'Now, when this widow found no help in her trouble, she bethought herself of the prophet Elisha, to whom she told her story with tears in her eyes. Elisha was moved by these widow's tears, and asked her, what she had in the house. Think, for the love of heaven, what it was! 'And thereupon she answered, I have nothing in the house but a little oil, to anoint myself withal.' To anoint herself! Only think, in the midst of her poverty, she still took pains to be a pretty creature, even if a poor creature! In a word, beauty is the only aim of womankind!' 'How many long timbers, how many short timbers, how many large timbers, how many small timbers, how many thick timbers, how many thin timbers, how many round timbers, how many square timbers, how many straight timbers, how many crooked timbers, were used in building up the tower of Babel! How many large stones, how many small stones, how many round stones, how many square stones, how many rough stones, how many smooth stones, how many white stones, how many red stones, how many common stones, how many marble stones, were needed to build and adorn the tower of Babel! It is nearly the same with a woman. What taffeta stuffs, what silken stuffs, what worked stuffs, what embroidered stuffs, what flowered stuffs, what wide stuffs, what narrow stuffs, what colored stuffs, doth she not require; and all to be beautiful, to be thought beautiful, to be called beautiful!' But Death is blind to all their beauty: