to draw water for her household from it,a tradition of in them all their lives, in the mechanical performance of a greater likelihood than those that have endowed buildings certain number of masses a-day, which they are bound by with the power of giving indulgences to their visitors. The their regulations to accomplish; and, "veramente," my snow and the mud had made the road nearly impassable; it Roman visiter declared to me, "it becomes very tiresome was knee-deep: but the business of carrying water could at last." The monks of Nazareth have a tour of duty to not be interrupted, and the women waded backwards and perform in Jerusalem, in the course of their residence in forwards in long strings, balancing their vessels on their" Terra Santa." Now that matters are ordered more faheads in the most skilful manner, notwithstanding the diffi- vourably for the Christian church throughout the East, they culty of drawing their limbs from the mire. have not even the excitement which an occasional arbitrary tax, with the alternative of losing their heads if not com plied with, used formerly to afford them. A little before midnight, the monk proposed to guide me to the Grotto of the Virgin, and I followed him through the silent galleries of the convent, and through a most myste. As I approached the fountain, there was a loud laugh among the women, at the expense of one of their party, in which I seemed to have some concern. "It is your brother," they all cried; "come and look at him:" but my sister was abashed, and turned her head away. Her tormentors would not suffer her to escape, however, and, pull-rious passage into the church, which is at all times lit up. ing her forward, presented to me a very pretty little red. We descended into a blaze of light from the suspicious way haired girl, who, prevented from concealing her face, stood through which we had wound. The sanctity of the grotto, blushing before me amid the laughter of her companions. over which the church was built by St. Helena, arises from It was her fair complexion, which made her a most rare its being the identical spot where the Virgin Mary received bird among her dark countrywomen, that gained me so the annunciation. The place where the angel stood is sweet a sister. Her hair was of the deepest red: I did not pointed out by one pillar, while another indicates the hal ask how she came by it, but the women were quite delight-lowed ground on which the Virgin stood. The monk deed when I said there were many maids of Frangistan with tailed to me very minutely, and with much apparent belief similar locks. in the truth of all he told, the miraculous and holy characFebruary 1.-Notwithstanding the unchanging white of ters of the places round. He made me observe the smoke all around, I rode this morning to Mount Tabor. The hills in the grotto, for it was the kitchen of the Virgin's house, about Nazareth are bare at the best; but now, when daz-and was the only apartment allowed to remain behind, as zling snow on all sides meets the eye, there is little in the there the annunciation had taken place, the rest of the outward picture to interest the senses. It was enough to dwelling having been whisked off to Loretto; the oftenfeel, however, that I was going to look over, from so cele- told tale of the broken pillar, the upper portion of which is brated a height, the scenes most distinguished in the life supernaturally fixed in the rock above; with the blindness and mission of our Lord. I merely took a guide with me, of the Turk whose avarice called forth the miracle, to save one of the servants of the convent; and, as we wound the money, I conceive, to the convent, and to add brighter slowly over the hills, met not a being to interrupt the soli- lustre to the spot. He also pointed out, while we stood in tude. At the foot of Tabor, where there was a green val- the grotto, the precise spot where St. Helena took her breakley, a line of black tents shone among the stunted oak-trees fast, when she gave her superintendence to the building of around, and the flocks of the Arabs were wandering through her church. Lamps were burning over all the altars; and them. We were the first to break the smoothness of the the monk, as we walked past them, swung incense from snow. In ascending the hill, on the right hand, looking into the silver censers that were standing ready upon them. the plain of Esdraelon, stands a little village, called Deborah by the natives, in which, say the legends, Jael slew Sisera. I rode to the summit of Mount Tabor; for, difficult as the road was, there was less risk in remaining on horse back than I should have found on foot. My horse was very sure. footed; but he occasionally slipped over the stony way, (for I could hear his shoes ring upon it,) and would, but for the firmness of the snow, have rolled over several times. At length I reached the fountain, and, glad to dismount, paused awhile beside it. It is venerated because here, say the monks, our Saviour "charged the disciples that they should tell no man what they had seen." Portions of the wall round the hill were visible above the snow, but all besides was deeply covered. The summit is flat, and, I believe, cultivated. I reached the highest point of the ruined building; and, unable to move about the mount itself, made amends by tracing from it the features of the surrounding scenery. The view from Mount Tabor has often been vaunted of by travellers. It is indeed magnificent, and comprises places of the greatest interest. The hills of Gilboa and Samaria, Mounts Hermon and Carmel, the plains of Galilee and Esdraelon, the Jordan and the Kishon, the Sea of Galilee, and the Mediterranean, are all discernible. On the anniversary of the Transfiguration, mass is performed at, and a great procession led to, the altars set up where the three tabernacles were made. They are in a vault under ground. I was barely able to reach them, for the entrance was choked up. I arrived in the convent in the evening, during the mass. A great crowd of native Christians was assembled, for it was the eve of the Purification, and the singing was exceedingly fine. About ten at night, a gentle tap at my door announced a visiter a reverend friar came to converse with me upon the affairs of the world. He was an Italian, a native of Rome, and had been so long cooped up in Nazareth, that he scarcely knew what was going on without his convent walls. These fathers have none of the enterprise, or even devotion of pilgrims; for they show not the least inclination to visit the holy places throughout Judea: but, contented with their distributions in the different convents of their order, remain The stillness of the place, the soft light, the fragrance of the incense, and the seeming piety of the minister to heighten their effect, had an air of solemnity in them that was very impressive; although the mysteries of the spot could scarcely have inspired any sense of true religion. I found, on my return to my cell, that I had passed the greater portion of the night in the church, and in the conversation of the priest, who concluded his offices by a very well-turned petition in behalf of the treasury of the convent, lamenting that the vows of the order had obliged them to live, in a great measure, upon the donations of those whose piety was, happily for themselves, supported by their power to give. "We do not beg here," he said; "but, if you ve been in Italy, you have been assailed by beggars such as I appear to be, miserabile." As his oration was indirectly given, I took it in the same manner, and we parted very much pleased with each other. THERE'S NOT A LOOK. THERE'S not a look, a word of thine, There never yet a murmur fell From that beguiling tongue, Like songs from Eden sung. Ah! that I could, at once, forget No, if this slighted heart must see LETTER FROM CINNA BEVERLEY, ESQ. TO N. P. WILLIS. SARATOGA. U. S. Hotel, August 1. You are feeding the news-hopper of your literary mill, my dear poet, and I am trying on the old trick of gayety at Saratoga. Which of us should write the other a letter? You, if you say so-though as I get older, I am beginning to think well of the town, even in August. You have your little solaces, my fast liver! Well-what shall I tell you? This great khan in the Desert of Dulness is full, to the most desirable uncomfortableness. Shall I begin with the men? God made them first, and as it is a test of the ultimate degree of refinement to re-approach nature, why, let men have the precedence! Less American than philosophical, you will say !—but men first, let it be! I must have my way in my Post-meridian. There used to be dandies. That was in the time when there was an aristocracy in the country. With the levelling, (from the middle to the top,) that has been going on for the last ten or twelve years, the incentive, somehow, seems gone, or, account for it how you will-there are no dandies! I am inclined to think that two causes may have contributed to it-the indiscretion of tailors in using gentlemen's ideas promiscuously, and the attention paid to dress by all classes -everybody, who can buy a coat at all, being within one degree of comme il faut! The other side of that degree is not far enough off from the mob, and so dandyism is discouraged. Needlessly, it is true, for the difference is marked enough; but the possibility of a woman's being beautiful enough to adore, and yet not wise enough to know that degree of difference! Ah, my dear Willis, that an angel may "walk unrecognized!" It has killed the class! was the electric light of the Court of France when I was abroad, a creature of that airy stateliness that betrays the veiled symmetry "Of the fair form that terminates so well," and she is as beautiful now as then, for a kind of tender and maternal mournfulness of eye has more than made up for the fainter roses and more languishing lilies of lip and cheek. (God be praised for compensations!) But, without specify. ing more to you, I must hold back a bit of speculation that I have in reserve, while I make you marvel at a triumph of toilet-achieved by the kind of short gown, or kirtle,* never before seen but at a wash-tub, but promoted now to be the lode-star of the drawing-room! There are articles of dress, you know, which are intensifiers-making vulgarity more vulgar, aristocracy more aristocratic-and the lady who comes kirtled to breakfast at Saratoga, is of Nature's daintiest fabric, only less proud than winning, but fancy a buttoned-up frock-coat over a snowy petticoat, and you can picture to yourself the saucy piquancy of the costume :Titania in the laundry! I was going to philosophize upon the changes in lady. tactics within the last few years, but I will just hint at a single point that has impressed me. The primitive confidingness of American girlhood-(the loveliest social phase that ever ascended from the shepherd's fold to the drawing. room)-has been abandoned for the European mamma-dom and watchful restraint, but without some of the compensatory European concomitants. I will not "lift the veil" by telling what those concomitants are. It would be a delicate and debateable subject. But the effect of this partial adaptation, is, in my opinion, far more dangerous than what it seeks to supplant or remedy, and among other evils is that of making culpable what was once thought innocent. I shudder at the manufacture of new sins, in a world where enough, for all needful ruin, grows wild by the road-side. I do not believe we shall grow purer by Europeanizing. 66 There is one dandy, only, at Saratoga, and he is but the dove-tail upon the age gone by-a better dressed man ten years ago than this morning at breakfast. One dandy among three thousand "fashionables!" It is early in the What else would you like to know? The water tastes as season, it is true, and (as a youth said to me yesterday with metallic as of old, though the beauties around the rim of the a clever classification)" all Carpenter's coats are gone this fountain are an increased congregation. The Marvins keep year to Newport." But, still, there are those here,-done their great caravanserai admirably well, as usual, though, into stereotype, and reckless of the peculiarities in them-surviving amid such a cataract of travel, they should rather selves which are susceptible of piquant departures from the call their Hotel "Goat Island" than "United States." fashion-who would have been, twenty years ago, each Union Hall" is making a fortune out of the invalid saints, one, a phenix unresembled! How delightful the Spring and Congress Hall looks romantic and flirt-wise as ever; were, in those days of marked men! How adored they and by the way, they are about to enlarge it, with a portico were by the women! How generously, (by such petting as overlooking the Spring. Delicious dinners can be had at is now unknown,) their anxieties of toilet were repaid and the Lake, and an omnibus runs there regularly, and, in all glorified! How the arrival of each "particular star" was matters, Saratoga enlarges. It serves a needful purpose in hailed by the rushing out of the white dresses upon the this gregarious country; and, on the whole, no place of portico of Congress Hall, the acclamations, the felicitations, escape is pleasanter to man or woman. the enquiries tender and uproarious! There was a joyous reciprocity of worship between men and women in those days!—and as innocent as joyous! Compare it with the arms'-length superfinery, and dangerous pent-up-itude of now! And now, my dear Willis, a cautious word or two about the women. There are "belles" at Saratoga, well-born, well-moulded and well dressed-five or six of the first degree of perilous loveliness, none of the second degree, (I don't know why,) and fifty or sixty with beauty enough to make, each one, a dull man happy. The rest are probably immortal creatures, and have angels to look after them but, as they make no sacrifices in proportion to their mortal plainness, they are cyphers, at least till doomsday. I will not impair my advantages, by telling, to an enterprising admirer like yourself, even the names of the adorables, for, as I slide into the back-swath of the great mower, I am jealous of opportunity-but there is one woman here who How is the joyous Brigadier? Make my homage acceptable to his quill and his epaulettes, and ask him, in his next hour of inspired song, to glorify proud beauty in hum ble kirtle. Come to Saratoga, my dear Willis, and let me tell you how sincerely I am yours, CINNA BEVERLEY. We have just received two money-and-praise-worthy articles from our new-discovered planet" Fanny Forester." We do our homage thus in public to her genius, (for the most difficult kind of writing, the careless finish,) and beg to say that we venture a letter to her fictitious address in the hope of its reaching her. She has a fame before her, and may as well be combing her hair into a crease to hold the laurels. * I have since discovered that this promoted article of dress was "dug up" by the spirited belles of Carolina, and is called at the South a "Jib-along-josey." EVERY NUMBER EMBELLISHED WITH A STEEL ENGRAVING. THREE DOLLARS A YEAR. VOLUME III. G. P. MORRIS AND N. P. WILLIS, EDITORS. LAWRENCE'S MONUMENT-AS IT IS! THE really affecting picture which we present this week, is from a drawing of the hero's monument as it now stands dilapidated in Trinity churchyard. Thank heaven, and honour to patriotism, that a project is on foot to replace it speedily by one more worthy of the great fame to which it is the pointing finger. No man of feeling, no lover of true glory, will see this picture, and remember the lips that uttered "Don't give up the ship!" without the impulse to contribute his mite to this noble object of renovation. We shall enlarge on this topic hereafter. THAT we delight in "Fanny Forester" our readers know. She keeps her incognita-heaven forgive her! Here is one of her sketches, of which we like the manner so well that we prefer it to most manna in the literary wilderness. Our compliments to you, witty lady Fanny, and pray write away? Brains are cooler for unloading, this hot weather. KITTY COLEMAN. PAYABLE IN ADVANCE. NUMBER 20. It was then a matter past controversy; and, of course Kitty I have heard that Cupid is blind, but of that I believe not a word. Indeed, I have a confirmation strong, that the malicious little knave has a sort of clairvoyance, and can see a heart where few would expect one to exist; for, did he not perch himself, now in the eye, and now on the lip of Kitty Coleman, and, with a marvellously steady aim, (imitating a personage a trifle more dreaded,) "cut down all. Both great and small ?" Blind! no, no! If the laughing rogue did fail in a single instance, it was not that he aimed falsely, or had emptied his quiver before. Harry Raymond must have had a tough heart, and so the arrow rebounded. Oh! a very stupid fellow was that Harry Raymond! and Kitty hesitated not to An arrant piece of mischief was that Kitty Coleman, say it; for, after walking and riding with her all through the with her winsome ways and wicked little heart! Those leafy month of June, what right had he to grow dignified all large, bewildering eyes! how they poured out their strange of a sudden, and look upon her, when he did it at all, as eloquence, looking as innocent all the while as though they though she had been a naughty child that deserved tying had peeped from their amber-fringed curtains quite by mis-up? To be sure, Harry Raymond was a scholar, and in take, or only to join in a quadrille with the sunlight! And then those warm, ripe lips! the veritable rosy bed, That a bee would choose to dream in." That is, a well-bred bee, which cared to pillow his head on pearls white as snow on the heaven-side of our earthly atmosphere, and sip the honey of Hybla from the balmy air fanning his slumbers. And so wild-unmanageable was she! Oh! it was shocking to proper people! Why, she actually laughed aloud-Kitty Coleman did! I say Kitty, because in her hours of frolicking, she was very like a juvenile puss, particularly given to fun-loving; and, moreover, because everybody called her Kitty, but aunt Martha. She was a wellbred woman, who disapproved of loud laughing, romping, and nicknaming, as she did of other crimes; so, she always || said, Miss Catharine. She thought, too, that Miss Catharine's hair—those long, golden locks, like rays of floating sunshine wandering about her shoulders, should be gathered up into a comb; and once the little lady was so obliging as to make trial of the scheme; but, at the first bound she made after Rover, the burnished cloud broke from its ignoble bondage, and the little silver comb nestled down in the long grass forevermore. Kitty was a sad romp. It is a hard thing to say of one we all loved so well, but aunt Martha said it, and shook her head, and sighed the while; and the squire, aunt Martha's brother, said it, and spread open his arms for his pet to spring into; and careful old ladies said it, and said, too, what a pity it is that young ladies now-a-days || would have no more regard for propriety! and even Enoch Short, the great phrenologist, buried his bony fingers in those dainty locks, that none but a phrenologist had a right to touch, and waiting only for the long, silvery laugh, that interrupted his scientific researches, to subside, declared that her organ of mirthfulness was very strikingly developed. love, as everybody said, with his books; but pray, what book is there of them all, that could begin to compare with Kitty Coleman ? There used to be delightful little gatherings in our village, and Kitty must of course be there; and Harry, stupid as he was, always went too. People were of course glad to see him, for the honour was something, if the company had otherwise been ever so undesirable. But Kitty hesitated not to show her dislike. She declared he did not know how to be civil; and there she sighed, (doubtless at the boorishness of scholars in general, and this one in particular ;) and then she laughed, so long and musically that the lawyer, the schoolmaster, the four clerks, the merchant, and Lithper Lithpet, the dandy, all joined in the chorus; though, for the life of them, they could not have told what the lady laughed at. Harry Raymond only looked towards the group, muttered something in a very ill-natured tone about butterflies, and then turned his back upon them, and gazed out of the window, though it was very certain he could see nothing in the pitchy darkness. It was very strange that Kitty Coleman should have disregarded entirely the opinion of such a distinguished gentleman as Harry Raymond; for he had travelled, and he sported an elegant wardrobe, and owned a gay equipage, a fine house and grounds, “and everything that was handsome." But she only laughed the louder when she saw he was displeased. Indeed, his serious face seemed to infuse the concentrated, doubledistilled spirit of mirthfulness into her; and a more frolicksome creature never existed than Kitty was-until he was gone. Then, all of a sudden, she grew fatigued, and must go home immediately. It was as much on Harry Raymond's account as her own, that aunt Martha was distressed at the hoydenish manners of her romping niece, and found it her duty to expostulate |