We shall be glad to receive more poetic contributions from L.-We can not find time to notice all the

we state, that the Evergreen is to be a "Church-of- always cordially welcomed by us. We hope she (for fering for all seasons"—a repository of religious, liter- we are confident Z. T. is a lady) will continue her “ Conary, and entertaining knowledge, for the Christianversations on the Holy Days," as well as prepare for our family”—a magazine, not expressly for either the old readers articles on any other subject that she may or the young, but for both classes—in other words, for deem proper. every member of the Christian family. In every number, we endeavor to furnish matter that may be read with interest, and, we trust, with profit, by all Church-letters sent us by contributors, but they may know if men, whether old or young. We fully believe, that if the Church can get a firm hold of the literature of the day, the result will be inconceivably beneficial to the interests of "pure and undefiled religion." We are desirous of doing all in our power towards promoting a sound Church literature, and we trust the Evergreen may be the humble means of accomplishing something towards this great object.

their contributions find admittance into the columns of the Evergreen, that any future favors will be gratefully received.

NOTICES OF PUBLICATIONS.

We therefore make this appeal to Churchmen, especially to Clergymen, to use their influence in sustainTHE CALENDAR. Edited by the Rev. Wm. Payne, ing us in our undertaking. Every Church Clergyman, M. A. Published by H. S. Parsons, Hartford, Ct.— probably, could, with a little effort, obtain, at least, This is the title of a new weekly Church paper, which some few subscribers among the members of his parish; takes the place of the late "Church Chronicle and and he certainly would greatly prefer to see such a Record." It is published "under the canonical conperiodical as the Evergreen circulated amongst his trol of the Bishop of the Diocese of Connecticut," and flock to most of the fashionable monthlies, or the pro-its object is stated to be " to keep a calendar of God's fessedly non-committal sectarian magazines. We are dealings with His Church, and at the same time to envery grateful for the exertions which several Clergy-force the faith and practice of the Gospel, as it is inmen (who are unknown to us, except by name) have terpreted by the Book of Common Prayer." This made to procure subscribers, and their good success but first number, in the neatness of its typographical exeserves to assure us that others may go and do likewise.cution, the matter of its selections, the spirit of its conWe desire, more especially, that those Clergymen who have charge of parishes in those parts of the country where the Churches are too much scattered to warrant us in sending out an agent, will send us on as many names as they can procure. We have subscribers in every State of the Union; but we wish to see our sub-a scription list doubled for the coming year, that the profits arising from the work may enable us to devote our undivided attention to its interests. We trust that our appeal will meet with a hearty response.

tributed and editorial articles, will not suffer from a comparison with any of our Church weekly journals. From our acquaintance with its editor, we have no doubt but that it will be conducted with "ability, doctrinal soundness, and Christian charity ;" and be made blessing to the families of the Church of God in this Diocese, and wherever else it is circulated.

BUTLER'S ANALOGY OF NATURAL and Revealed RELIGION TO THE CONSTITUTION AND COURSE OF NATURE. Abridged, being Questions with brief Answers for The chapters on "Christian Sympathy," a series Examination, by G. W. Crauford, M. A. Revised which commences in our present number, are written, and adapted to the use of Classical and Theological as will be perceived, by a competent hand. As the Students. By Charles E. West, A. M. New York: various chapters will be quite or nearly independent of A. V. Blake.-Opposed as we generally are to abridgeach other, we hope that none of our readers will failments, we must confess that there appears to be a proto give them their diligent attention, as they may suc-priety in it in this instance. The style of Bishop Butcessively appear; for though the subject may seem rather a grave one to some persons, yet the manner and style in which it is here treated, will, we are certain, make it prove interesting to all classes.

"Random Papers of our Club," will form a series of articles on different subjects, written by a few contributors; and will serve to make an addition to the pleasing variety which should characterize such a periodical as ours. They will commence in our next number.

TO CORRESPONDENTS-We desire to thank our unknown correspondont Z. T. whose contributions are

ler is repulsive to the superficial thinkers of the present day, his reasoning is not always easy to be understood, and the work requires more patient and profound study than most pupils would be willing to give it. Under these circumstances, it may be useful to attempt to assist persons in comprehending the scope and in acquiring a knowledge of his justly celebrated “Analogy." The work as thus abridged, with its Questions and Answers, will prove a highly valuable school-book.

Other notices of publications are deferred, for want of room, till our next number.

VOL. II.

THE EVERGREEN.

FEBRUARY, 1845.

NO. II.

For the Evergreen.

THE VETERAN'S RETURN.

[SEE ENGRAVING.]

CHAPTER I.

THE CHILDREN.

made us as comfortable as we could wish. How thankful we ought to be that we are blessed with such a mother, and how promptly and cheerfully ought we to do our share of labor, now that we are old enough to render her important assistance !"

"Yes," said Frank, "we owe every thing to our good mother. There are few children so much indebted to a parent as we are. And I hope I shall soon be old enough and stout enough to do something more towards supporting her and you, than I ever

"We have finished our weeding now, and I think it would do us all good to rest awhile. Come, let us go and sit under the old willow tree at the foot of the gar-have been able to do yet." den, and watch the fishes swim in the river."

This was spoken by Frank Warner, to his younger brother and two sisters. Away the merry children tripped to the mossy bank, followed by their faithful companion, Ponto, the house-dog. There they seated themselves under the old willow tree, and for a time, except at occasional intervals, continued entirely silent. After awhile, however, having become somewhat tired of watching the swimming fishes, Frank proposed that they should listen to a story which he would read to them; and to this they all heartily assented. Even Ponto, if we might judge from his actions, seemed to join in the general joy which Frank's proposal occasioned.

"And I," added little Edwin, "shall become a man some time, and I will give mother all the money I can earn."

"What business will you engage in to earn it?" inquired Ellen, smiling; " for you must learn some trade, or enter upon some employment first, you know."

"Oh, I shall be a soldier," exclaimed the artless boy, "and I will send mother all my wages."

At the mention of the word soldier,' the rest became again thoughtful, till Clara spoke"Father is a soldier, but he never sends mother any of his wages. How did father look, Ellen? I wish I could see him."

you, in wishing to be a soldier?"

"Yes, to be sure I am in earnest," replied the lad, with eagerness. "If you had been to the village yesterday, and seen the troops, with their feathers and

"I hardly remember much about his looks," said The story which Frank selected was the first of Ellen, " for I was quite young when he left home and those charming narratives in "Scenes in our Parish," became a soldier. But," continued she, turning to her entitled "An Old Couple," and as he continued read-younger brother, "you are not in earnest, Edwin, are ing, the marked attention of his youthful auditors showed with what pleasing interest they listened to this glowing description, "by a Country Parson's Daughter."* After he had finished the story and laid his book aside, the children remained for a few mo-caps, and red coats, and bright muskets, you would ments in solemn thoughtfulness, till at last Clara, the younger sister, broke the silence, by saying that "she loved old Hetty, because she was so good in denying herself of so many comforts, in order that she might pay off her poor old blind Samuel's debts."

""Tis a bad thing to get into debt," said Frank, "but in old Samuel's case it appears to have been almost unavoidable."

"Many things in the story," interposed Ellen, the other sister, "reminded me of mother's trials. Here she has been laboring for many years to discharge old debts, and at the same time has supported us, and

have been sorry because you are a girl, and can not be a soldier. And then the drum and fife-how I love to see such sights and hear such sounds!-I could follow after the troops for a whole week, and never get tired."

Little Edwin was, indeed, quite an enthusiastic young soldier, in imagination. He had been the day before to the neighboring village, to see the great gathering of the "general training" which was held there, and since his return home his head had been completely turned on the subject of a military life—a service which his boyish fancy invested with every thing that could delight and afford enjoyment. His sister, upon thus learning the cause of his temporary zeal for a soldier's life, thought it best

The whole title of this work is "SCENES IN OUR PARISH, by a Country Farson's Daughter," and we hope none of our youth-not to oppose it, as it would doubtless begin to wane as ful readers are strangers to it.

soon as the scenes of the "general muster" were fully

out of his mind. She therefore changed the subject, by asking Frank if he remembered how their father looked.

"No," replied he, "I should not know him if I were to meet him in the street. O how I wish I could see him! I wonder where he is now?"

and that I could not depend upon him for any further supplies of money. I was giddy and thoughtless, and supposed that by forming this matrimonial connection, │I should be able to have pecuniary means at my command sufficient to gratify my proudest wishes. My excessive vanity made me extremely fond of display, "We have not heard from him for more than three and I would not let my husband have any peace till years," said Ellen, musingly. "Mother promised us, he had furnished our house in a style that accorded some time ago, that she would soon tell us more about with my extravagant desires. I was passionately fond him. I wonder if she would be willing to tell us this of dress, too, and this, with many other foolish and evening?" wicked whims, led me into expenditures which in two "I will ask her," said Frank, "for I want to learn or three years had nearly consumed my husband's limsomething more about mother's history." ited fortune. He then, for the first time, remonstrated "And may Clara and I hear it too?" anxiously asked with me, and though I felt the force of his reasoning, Edwin. I was too proud to admit it; and he, finding me incor"Certainly, if mother is willing and ready to relate rigible, left me to myself. I now endeavored to reit to us," answered Frank.

CHAPTER II.

THE MOTHER'S NARRATIVE.

In the evening, the children eagerly seated themselves near their mother, and reminded her that she had promised to relate to them something more concerning her former history, as connected with that of their father.

trench a little in some of my former expenses, but my unhappy and proud spirit knew not how to accommodate itself to anything like self-denial, and I was soon running into as great extravagances as before. Time after time did your father try to check me in a career which he said would bring ruin upon us and all our children. But I heeded not his good advice, but continued to gratify myself in every thing that I wished to procure, let the expense be great or small. At length your father became discouraged, as well he might, and began to neglect his business, and in less than a year

"We would be glad to have you begin now, mother, from that time we were so much in debt that he was if you think it a suitable time," said Ellen.

obliged to give up all our property for the benefit of his creditors. It was most exceedingly mortifying to me to be thus compelled to surrender almost every thing upon which my foolish heart was set, and with a pros

"You have all now arrived at a sufficient age to hear the account which I have always intended to relate to you at a proper time," said she, “and I see no reason why I should defer it any longer. I will there-pect before me of being unable hereafter to live in any fore begin at once."

other than the most humble style. We accordingly The children gathered themselves more closely removed to a small cottage, and re-commenced housearound their mother, and listened with fixed attention keeping on a plan far too humiliating for my proud to her narration, some portions of which we here fur-spirit, and whenever and wherever I could obtain crednish our readers. it, I was running my husband again into debt. He

"I was left," she commenced, " an orphan at a very was not long in discovering it, and once more he kindearly age, and the gentleman who had been appointedly reasoned with me on the subject. But I regarded my guardian gave himself but very little concern about not his remonstrations; I even reproached him with me, so that, during my youthful years, I was left al-being sordidly covetous. A few days afterward he left most entirely to act for myself, without any kind friend to counsel and guide me. When I was nearly seventeen years of age, I became acquainted with your father. He was then more than twice as old as myself, and what he could see to admire in a vain, affected, and silly girl of my years, has always since surprised

me.

But so it was; and a few months after our acquaintance commenced, I was his wife. I must here confess, that at that time I did not cherish that deep-rooted attachment for him which I ought to have felt before I consented to be his 'till death should us part,' and I was far from being sensible of a tithe of the responsibilities I was by this solemn act assuming. I was the more ready to listen to the proposals of your father, because I had then recently learned from my guardian, that my small patrimony was all exhausted,

me, and I have never seen him since. He had become completely disheartened by my strange and unpardonable prodigality; and having put into my hands a few hundred dollars for the support of our children,' as he said, he bade me adieu. He had, in early life, been connected with the army, but had resigned his station there before I became acquainted with him. I soon learned that he had again obtained a lieutenancy, and had embarked with his regiment for India. It is useless to mention how in the bitterness of my heart I accused him of being an unfeeling, avaricious, and cruel husband. I soon spent, in useless purchases, all the money he had left for you, and was again involved in debt. My situation was then go humiliating, that some time had passed before I permitted my thoughts to turn inwardly upon myself, and reflected upon the

MY DEAR WIFE AND CHILDREN:

LONDON,

wicked and unjustifiable part I had been playing in this { The children anxiously awaited her return, but it was unfortunate affair. Then, indeed, I began to see my- a full half hour before she made her appearance. self in a clearer light, and to upbraid myself as being They saw she had been weeping, and they feared that supremely selfish, unreasonable, and extravagant, and the letter brought unpleasant intelligence. She soon, the author of all our misfortunes. My however, dispelled their fears, by informing them that proud spirit became, after a time, somewhat subdued, their father was then in the country, and would be at and I was led to see that I had not only given offence home in a few days, as soon as he could obtain a furto a kind husband, but that I had offended a just and lough. She then put the letter into Frank's hands, holy God, and no sooner had this conviction entered and told him to read it aloud for the gratification of my mind, than I threw myself on my knees and con- the children. Frank read as follows:fessed to Him the sins and errors of my former life, and supplicated for pardon for all my offences. I had been baptized in infancy, but had lived in open negligence of my baptismal engagements. An opportunity for being confirmed soon presenting itself, I sought my parish minister, and related to him the state of my feelings, my desires and hopes, and he encouraged me to come forward and show myself a willing disciple of Jesus. I soon found, in the exercise of repentance, faith, and obedience, a peace and joy in believing which the world knows not of; and thus my adverse fortune proved to me the greatest of all blessings. Since then I have endeavored to rear you, my dear children, in the ways of the Church, in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, as well as in habits of industry and economy. By frugality and persevering industry, I have at last been enabled to discharge every debt, and to maintain you comfortably, for which I desire most heartily to thank our Father who is in heaven." * * * *

As I expect to see you all in the course of a week or two, I shall not write a very long letter, but will give you a more satisfactory account of all that has occurred to me during my absence, when I return to you. I can freely forgive you, my dear wife, for all your "numerous faults," as you termed them in your letter. And it is now my turn to crave forgiveness for the unjust treatment you have received from me. It was highly wrong for me to desert you and my children as I did; but I left you in a moment when my feelings of resentment had conquered my reason, and after having.deserted you, I was always trying to hunt up excuses to justify myself in the course I had taken. I think I now fully see my error, and am willing and desirous to atone for it. But enough of this till we see each other face to face. I have a matter of more interest to you to relate.

"But what has become of father?" inquired Frank. I did not receive your letter and the package ac"I can not tell you, my dear son," replied the mo-companying it, till more than a year after its date. ther. "All I wish, to complete my happiness now, is The officer by whom it was sent died on his passage, to have him return, so that I can throw myself at his and it was not till some months afterward that the feet and ask his forgiveness for my unkindness and in-package for me was discovered in one of his trunks. justice towards him. It is more than three years since At the time I received it I was quite ill, having been I have heard from him. I wrote a letter to him by an confined to my room for some weeks. This time of officer who embarked for India about two years ago, my confinement had afforded me an opportunity for and confessed my numerous faults, implored his par-reflection, and I had frequently accused myself of don, and begged him to return to the bosom of his family. I enclosed in the package which contained the letter, a small Prayer-Book, and expressed to him the wish that it might prove as great a comfort to him in spiritual concerns, as it had to me. I have as yet received no reply to my letter, and am sometimes fearful that he never intends to return and see us again. But we will trust in God, for He will do for us what is best."

being too hasty in leaving you. Upon reading your letter, and learning the change that had taken place in your views and practice, and especially the deep interest you took in matters of religion, and the comfort you found in endeavoring to devote your life to God's service, I felt that I had, by deserting you, indeed lost a treasure. And when I read that portion of your letter in which you alluded to the daily heart-felt prayers that you offered up to heaven in my behalf, my heart was melted to tenderness, and I determined to try to pray for myself. I then and there promised that I would from that time, by God's help, endeavor to lead a virtuous and godly life,' walking in all the commandSOME months after the above narration had taken ments of God and ordinances of His Church. You place, Frank brought a letter from the post-office for can not think how valuable a present your Prayerhis mother, and the moment she saw the superscrip- Book was to me, in assisting me to carry out my resotion she exclaimed, "tis from your father, my chil-lution to be hereafter a faithful soldier of the Cross. I dren!" She eagerly opened it, and glanced at the there found petitions and thanksgivings suitable for evcontents for a moment, then retired to her chamber, ery frame of mind and every condition in which I was

CHAPTER III.

GRATIFYING INTELLIGENCE.

The spot once fair, seemed but a desert grave,
And all the earth is drear and desolate.

placed. The Chaplain of the regiment, too, proved (The rose of hope has vanished from its stem;
an estimable friend and counselor, and as soon as I
was able to leave my room I was confirmed by the
Bishop of Calcutta, and admitted to the holy Com-
munion. I should have written immediately and
cheered your heart with these glad tidings, but I was
expecting daily to receive permission to return to my
native land, and more than three months had thus
passed, before I obtained the required discharge from
military duty. I have now arrived in safety, and as
soon as I can procure a furlough, will come and spend
some weeks, perhaps months, with you. Anxiously
awaiting the time of that happy meeting,

I remain your truant and faithful husband,

F. WARNER.

About ten days after the receipt of the above letter, the children were playing near the house, when they saw an elderly gentleman, in an officer's half dress, approaching.

"That's father," they exclaimed, with one breath. Frank went forward to meet him; Edwin appeared rather timid, as he peeped at him from under his cap, which he held in his hand, while Ellen and Clara stood still farther in the background. Ponto, as though wondering whether all was right, ran towards him, and seemed to scan him at a few glances, and ready to welcome him. The father stood gazing at his children in silence for some moments, when Frank led him forward to the house, where, upon entering, he found his wife just coming to meet him. Never did more fervent thanksgivings ascend to heaven, than were that evening poured forth from the overflowing hearts of these happy parents and children, as they knelt around the family altar.

For the Evergreen.
LIFE'S WINTER.

*

M***.

A SHRIVELED leaf hangs on an empty bough,
Forsaken by its mates of sunmer tide,
It lonely flutters to the hollow moan
Of viewless sprite, as chanting sad the dirge
O'er many a floral gem low in the dust.
The naked trees, all shivering mid the ice,
Stretch forth their pointed arms with fitful starts—
The sudden gestures of a frantic woe.
No more to sing the roundelay of joy
And wanton with the passing breeze,
The merry birds and golden fruit are gone :
Clad with a snowy shroud, the earth lies dead.

Thus man condemned to linger mid the scenes,
Where mates departed cheered with genial smile,
Stands reft of beauty, vigor, and of joy.

*

See yon poor lingerer, though his task is done,
And darkness gathers in the occident,
Feeble, decrepit, prone on burdened staff.
A withered vine, bereft of leaf and flower!
Another generation treads that scene,
Where once, in manly pride or tenderness,
He met a bosom mate to laugh or weep.
How vain his anxious search for one dear friend
That bloomed and spread his lusty arms abroad,
When both rejoiced in manhood's glorious strength!
The bow, that spanned his sky's wide-spreading arch,
Has yielded to a gray and sober hue.
Those once bright sparkling gems, the stars, are dim.
Fragrance has ceased, and music's thrill is hushed,
All visions vanished which illumed his mind,
Where fancy's vagrant play could charm awhile,
And all assumes the darkness of his soul.
At times, like lightning in a wintry sky,
Will memory shed a momentary gleam
O'er the vast blank, blackening the cloud
Which now pours down a rushing flood of gloom.
Extremes of life hold converse. Causeless tears
Course now, as in the early morn of life.
This visiting of childish gleams-how void
Of childish joy-how lurid every light!

Ah! who would bide the mournful time, when all
The loved and cherished have gone down to dust,
Or risen, on seraph wings, where fruit and flower
Perennial, bloom in ever quenchless light!

Such is the lot of him who in this world
Keeps pent his soul and clips her noble wing—

Who cabins here a nature that may soar

Beyond the milky way towards that throne,

Where veiled in speechless light, with power supreme,

Dwells, inapproachable, the triune God.

Then may we, while the hours of youth are bright,
While manhood's noontide glory streams around,
Gather within our souls the fruit of faith,
Of love, and all that Christ's religion gives,
That when our days are short and drear and dark,
And those we loved have gone to their account,
We may rejoice in hope, yea long to fly,
On angel wings, to meet the lost in heaven.
Then will our darkness be but that short hour
Which ushers in the blaze of lasting day.

J. L. S.

Genuine faith does not infuse a piety which is unprofitable to others, but draws it out in incessant desires and aims to promote the general good.

H. MORE.