ANNA PEYRE DINNIES.

MRS. DINNIES, hitherto known as a poetess under the name of "Moina," was born in Georgetown, South Carolina. Her father, Judge Shackleford, an eminent lawyer in that state, removed to Charleston, when Anna was a child. She was there educated at the Female Seminary of the Miss Ramsays', daughters of the celebrated Doctor David Ramsay. Miss Shackleford gave early promise of genius, and of a poetical talent, which she inherited from her father. He was a distinguished scholar, and his influence in forming the literary taste of his daughter was very happily and effectually exerted.

In May, 1830, Miss Shackleford married John C. Dinnies, a gentleman of New-York, but then settled at St. Louis, Missouri, where Mrs. Dinnies has ever since resided. — Her published poetry has chiefly been written since her marriage, and breathes the tender, trusting and devoted feeling of conjugal love, in a manner which is very flattering to her husband. He must be worthy of esteem, to engross so deeply the imagination and heart of one familiar in domestic life. The circumstances attending their union were romantic, and it would seem that, in this case, the romance has proved a happy reality. — They became engaged in a literary correspondence, which continued. more than four years. The result was their marriage,

though they never met till one week before their nuptials. The contract was made long before, entered into solely from the sympathy and congeniality of mind and taste. That in their estimate of each other they have not been disappointed, we may infer from the tone of her songs; for there cannot be domestic confidence, such as these pourtray, unless both are happy. We have ventured to give this pleasant picture of Love and the Muse at home, as a hint to our young men and maidens, that to insure a happy marriage, higher requisites than personal beauty and bank stock are necessary. - There must be intellectual charms and moral wealth, to insure that sentiment which will

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"Live on through each change, and love to the last."

The poetry of Mrs. Dinnies is characterized by vigor of thought, and delicate tenderness of feeling.There is something exceedingly fascinating in the display of intellectual power, when it seems entirely devoted to the happiness of others. It is genius performing the office of a guardian angel. There is a fervidness in the expressions of this poetess, which goes to the heart of the reader at once, and exalts the strain, no matter what the theme may be. In the regions of imagination she does not soar far or often; the wild and mysterious are not her passion; but the holy fire of poesy burns pure and bright in her own heart, and she cherishes it to illumine and bless her own hearth. The genius that has warmed into summer beauty a frozen "Chrysanthemum," that "peerless picture of a modest wife," should be cherished and encouraged; for this "beauty-making power" it is which most essentially aids religious truths to refine and purify social and domestic life.

WEDDED LOVE.

COME, rouse thee, dearest! 'tis not well

To let the spirit brood

Thus darkly o'er the cares that swell
Life's current to a flood.

As brooks, and torrents, rivers, all,
Increase the gulf in which they fall,
Such thoughts, by gathering up the rills
Of lesser griefs, spread real ills;
And, with their gloomy shades conceal
The land-marks Hope would else reveal.

Come, rouse thee, now -I know thy mind,

And would its strength awaken;

Proud, gifted, noble, ardent, kind

Strange thou shouldst be thus shaken!

But rouse afresh each energy,

And be what Heaven intended thee;

Throw from thy thoughts this wearying weight,

And prove thy spirit firmly great:

I would not see thee bend below

The angry storms of earthly wo.

Full well I know the generous soul
Which warms thee into life,

Each spring which can its powers control,
Familiar to thy Wife-

For deemest thou she had stooped to bind
Her fate unto a common mind?

The eagle-like ambition, nurs'd
From childhood in her heart, had first
Consumed, with its Promethean flame,
The shrine that sunk her so to shame.

Then rouse thee, dearest, from the dream
That fetters now thy powers:

Shake off this gloom - Hope sheds a beam
To gild each cloud which lowers;
And though at present seems so far
The wished for goal — a guiding star,
With peaceful ray, would light thee on,
Until its utmost bounds be won:
That quenchless ray thou'lt ever prove,
In fond, undying, Wedded Love.

THE BLUSH.

Was it unholy? — Surely no!

The tongue no purer thought can speak,
And from the heart no feeling flow

More chaste, than brightens woman's cheek.

How oft we mark the deep-tinged rose
Soft mantling where the lily grew,
Nor deem that where such beauty blows
A treach'rous thorn 's concealed from view!

That thorn may touch some tender vein,
And crimson o'er the wounded part! -
Unheeded, too, a transient pain

Will flush the cheek, and thrill the heart.

On beauty's lids, the gem-like tear

Oft sheds its evanescent ray ;
But scarce is seen to sparkle, ere

'Tis chased by beaming smiles away!

Just so the blush is formed - and flies
Nor owns reflection's calm control:

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THE CHARNEL SHIP.

The Charleston Courier of the 20th December, 1828, contains the account of a vessel discovered in 1773, by a Greenland Whale ship. It had been for 17 years frozen up among the icebergs in the north polar sea; and, when found, the corses of several persons in an almost perfect state of preservation were on board; those of the Master, his wife, and a man with a book, in which he had probably been writing when he died, particularly attracted the attention of Captain Warren and his men.

THE night—the long dark night — at last
Passed fearfully away;

'Mid crashing ice, and howling blast,

They hailed the dawn of day,

Which broke to cheer the Whaler's crew

And wide around its gray light threw.

The storm had ceased-its wrath had rent
The icy wall asunder -

And many a piercing glance they sent
Around in awe and wonder;

And sailor hearts their rude praise gave,
To God, that morn, from o'er the wave.

The breeze blew freshly, and the sun
Pour'd his full radiance far

On heaps of icy fragments -- won,

Sad trophies in the past night's war
Of winds and waters -- and in piles
Now drifted by bright shining isles!