FREEDOM OF THOUGHT.

THOUGHTS cannot be chained. They will ever soar on freedom's wide spread wings-mocking all human restrictions. Thoughts are the mind, which is not only free in its nature, but also indestructible: all else may be imprisoned, may perish. Mind, in its true bearing, partakes of the divine essence; and pure thoughts are the odoriferous drops of that essence. But while flesh and blood, and sinews and fibres, are the mediums through which this subtle and mysterious agent is permitted to exercise its prerogative, it is in vain to look for perfection.

The soul has ever challenged the deepest learning and genius to interpret its mystic pages. Finite research here grows weary, and earthly greatness is forced with childlike humility to give up the effort as hopeless, while still the undefined spirit is more or less deified, or regarded with care and solicitude, wherever its significant banner is unfurled.

Intelligent thoughts made known through the music of words, demand an existence, wherever in life's atmosphere man is found. And those thoughts that spring out of the fountains of charity, benevolence and love, have a passport from the Eternal One, to roam the wide world over.

Words uttered by tongues familiar with the most correct and elegant language, do not always express the deepest, strongest and truest feelings.

Kings and princes, priests and statesmen may sometimes think meanly and wickedly. Those who bask in the sunshine of opulence and are overwhelmed with means for acquiring knowledge, may deem it condescension to listen to music dropping from harps attuned in the solitude of penury, or otherwise in the shades of obscurity. But Nature is true to herself, and neither conventional forms, nor aristocracy of learning or lineage can successfully quench or confine the free-born soul.

It is true that coarse, ignorant and imbecile minds cannot think well; and it is equally true that titled nobility and speculative minds have often erred, and may err in thinking. But the soul true to itself yearns for light, that it may see God, nature, man and all things as they really are.

Modesty is a lovely maiden of balmy breath, but she should not mistake her true mission by consigning the "winged thoughts" to silence and obscurity, destined to go forth as help-lights on life's dreary ocean.

Neither should egotism, or vanity of hateful visage, be allowed so to intoxicate the fancy, that the weak and puerile shall appear strong and noble-the distorted, beautiful-the false, truthful.

God, Nature, Truth!-glorious watchwords for mortal consideration.

PREJUDICE.

FIRE, famine, and the reeking sword

That sweep with dismal moan and blasting sway
O'er earth and sea, come not in tones so harsh,
So keen and terrible, to greet my ear,
As that ungracious, drear, and chilling sound
That speaks the blighting name of Prejudice.
Ah, how this prowling fiend is wont to grin,
And shake his haughty head, when he beholds
Upon life's ocean tossed, the thousand wrecks,
Made by his cruel blast.-How many fall-
Alas, too soon! to rise no more!

How many worthy hearts have felt full deep
The cold, relentless thrust of Prejudice—
And pined away beneath the tyrant's power,
The hapless children of a frowning world—
Unknown, unsung, unwept !

Shame on thy foul and adamantine heart,
And scorned be him who pleads thy vicious part,
Thou heartless master, 'neath whose pliant rod
So many bend the knee, and yield a nod !

Why do we bow to thy behest,

Dark image of malignant breast?

Thou creepest like a serpent to beguile,

And willing hearts quaff down thy treacherous smile; And oh who feel thy cold and blighting breath,

As well might sleep in the embrace of death!

For life's a wilderness of pain,
Where Prejudice is wont to reign.

How shall we find reward for noble deed,
If surly Prejudice be not agreed ?-

What skilful hand can bid the slumbering lyre
Awake, and breathe with all its wonted fire,
When this rude personage is nigh,
Detractor, of a jealous eye?

Oh, come not near me with thy traitor kiss,
I hate thy visage, green-eyed Prejudice;
Headlong adown the cliff of deep despair
I'd hurl thee, heedless of thy struggling prayer:
For earth is tainted with thy breath
Thou pale-faced fiend of woe and death.

WINTER MUSINGS.

"Ye favor'd ones,

"Whom pleasure, power, affluence surround"Ye little think how many feel

"This very moment death, and all the sad "Varieties of pain. How many drink

"The cup of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread "Of misery. Sore pierc'd by wintry winds "How many shrink into the sordid hut

"Of cheerless poverty.”

O WHERE has fled the Summer

With her gems of beauty? Have the whisp'ring

Zephyrs breathed her farewell song? The "thousand Minstrels of the sky"—have they forsook us? "Twas but yesterday the dewy roses

In our pathway lingered, scat'ring fragrant

Incense all around. Gay birds, in number
Countless, 'mid the leafy bowers, with "harpstrings!
Tuned," swell'd high their gladsome notes. And merry
Insects, hurrying forth from flower to flower,

Were seen.

But now-ah me! a change hath come

'Tis Winter; and all nature once more groans
In icy fetters. Cold winds sweep along

O'er snow-clad hills and stiffened lakes-
And leafless trees touch'd by the chilling blast,
In sadness murmur.

Hark!-now comes the gale.

My lonely cot, lash'd by the tempest rude,
Is rocking. Madly drives the stiffling snow
Against my casement frail. The pelting storm,
(Though I am sheltered from its angry touch,)
Salutes me with its dreamy music. Ah,
Methinks, amid the warring elements,
I hear deep notes of woe!

In her abode

Firm held in Poverty's Herculean grasp,
The widow yields to tears of keen distress,
While children hungry by her side

Look up to her for sustenance. Alas!

No "Howard" comes,-she breathes her mournful wail,

And on the swift wings of the wintry wind,

Her cries for help go forth.