The truth is, New Lebanon invites the visiter more by the salubrity of its climate, the rural beauty of its scenery, the quiet seclusion which it offers to the town-weary traveller, and more than all, by its accessibility from so many populous parts of the country, than by any magic virtues possessed or imparted by its “springs,” and all these inducements combine to keep the pretty little village full to overflowing from spring to autumn. I saw many visiters from the southern states there among the rest, and was gratified to learn that there is an annual increase of business at “Columbian Hall.” In my next I shall describe a scene at the Shaker's Church. VIATOR. SACRED SONG. “There's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told,” When the heart's best affections are yielded to God, And the spirit that wandered, returns to the fold Of the Saviour who bought it by shedding of blood! One moment of rapture so holy, is worth Far more than whole ages of wandering bliss; And oh! if a joy ever gild this dark earth, It is this, it is this! The pleasures of time are all fleeting and vain— The bubbles that sparkle o'er life's turbid stream, E'en the ties of affection are sundered in twain, When the dark clouds of sorrow portentously gleam. But the rapture that thrills through the soul at its birth Into favor with God, is ineffable bliss; And oh! if a joy ever gild this dark earth, It is this, it is this! T. J. S. MARTIN LUTHER INCOGNITO. _Mr. Editor_,—Public attention has recently been attracted, with great justice, to the Memoirs of Luther, by Professor Michelet of Paris; a work remarkable, first, as composed almost entirely of the Reformer's own words, and, secondly, as proceeding from a Roman Catholic. You will not, I trust, deem it unseasonable to accept the translation of a very rare and entertaining document, relating some scenes eminently illustrative of this great man's private manners. Allow me to premise, by way of refreshing the reader's memory, that after the celebrated appearance of Luther at the Diet of Worms, he was secretly snatched away by his friend the Elector, and kept for some months in the castle of Wartburg. The paper which follows gives some account of his return. It is from the pen of an honest Swiss, and is written in the Swiss-German dialect, but is so full of racy diction and inimitable naïveté, that it cannot fail to gratify every lover of ancient story. I have availed myself, here and there, of an antique idiom or phrase, as remarkably comporting with the rude original.[1] Respectfully, &c. JAMES W. ALEXANDER. [Footnote 1: The document may be seen In Marheineke's History of the German Reformation, vol. i, p. 319. Berlin, 1831.] * * * * *