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The New-England magazine. / Volume 3, Issue 1 New England magazine American monthly review American monthly magazine J. T. and E. Buckingham Boston July 1832 0003 001
The New-England magazine. / Volume 3, Issue 1, miscellaneous front pages i-vi

THE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINE. VOLUME III. FROM JULY TO DECEMBER INCLUSIVE. 1832. JIY J. T. & E. BUCKINGRAM, BOSTON: PRINTED AND PUBLISHED B! J. T. AND E. BUCKINCHAM. A? ~I,~i5 *3 U C K ,1Jct~ INDEX. ORIGINAL PAPERS. Pa~-e. Page. Almanack, a leaf from an old, - 240 Life and Times of Deacon Christoislier American Artists and Mechanics, - 1, 305 Barrenpate, 471 Art and Nature, a Sonnet, - - 304 Mornin,, iu June, - - - - 51 Benjamin Franklin. The Steam boat, 95 My Books, 297 Blue-Deviled Retrospection - - 234 Memoir of Mr. Justice Story, - - 433 Boston Notions 397 Mad-House, 455 Book Divination, - - - - 41)9 Meditations in a Barbers Shop, - 404 Caidwell, Dr. CharlesThoughts on True New-England Eclogues, - - - 220 Epicurism, 353 Night Season, 64 Convergation with a Lizard, - - 403 Nervous Man 97 Cattle Shows and Conventions, and other Natick Tale, 104 Matters 411 New-York 120 Choice of a Profession, - - - 138 Nancy Gale, 231 CholeraHistory of - - - - 147 Poets Repinings, 40 Course of Time, 481 Phantom Ship, 122 Common Schools, - - - - 194 Passa~es in the Hebdomadary of an ditor, 133 Comet and Cholera, - - - 115 Phraseology of the Americans, - 485 Coplas de Don Jorge Manrique, - 454 Reformation, House of - - - 382 Commencement - - - - 329 Revere, Paul, 305 ChildhoodSports of, - - - 7 Reminiscences of a Militia Officer, No. III. 53 Dramatic Reminiscences, - - 33, 475 IV. 110 Dirgefrom the Modern Greek, - 480 Romance and Reality, - - 392 Death and the Lady, - - - 57 Sports of Childhood - - - 7 Dead Set, 372 Schoolmaster, Chap. IV. - - - 9 Domestic Manners of the French, - 192 V. - - - 284 Domestic Manners of the Americans, 144 Story, Joseph, Memoir of, - - 433 Dialogue between a Coffin and a I)iamond Stephen Girard, 57 Ring on the finger of a Corpse, - 327 Sprague, CharlesLiterary Portrait of, 89 EpicurismThoughts on Trueby Dr. Scrap BookNo. 11, - - - 157 Charles CaIdwell, - - - 353 III, - - - 407 EuropeEngland, 177 Schools, Common, 194 - France, - - - - 316 SonnetArt and Nature, - 304 Fragments of New-England Eclogues, 220 Selections from Papers of an IdlerNo. IV, 333 France, 316 V, 491 Fools, 398 Scintillations of Science, - - 338 Farewell, - 16 Sonnetfrom the SpanishThe Two Har- Field Sports, 42 vests, 414 Female Education, 278 Scott, Sir WalterWritings of, - 13 Fortunes of Mendokaycheenah, - 290 Sonnetto the Sea-breeze, - - 448 Fair Eckbert, 296 Th nksgivingDream in the day time, 487 Cirard, Stephen, 59 Thoughts on True Epicurism, - 353 Green Peas and Other Matters - 228 Torqnenradaa Tale of the Peninsular Harvard College forty years ago, - 236 War, 215 House of Reformation, - - - 382 Translation from the Spanish of Don Jorge Horace in Boston, - - - - 314, 390 Manrique, 454 Humors of an Oriental, - - - 48 Thoughts on Conversation, - - 491 Hebdomadary of an Editor, - - 133 Ugly Reflections, 21 Hurd, Nathaniel, 1 Village Poet, 17 Indian CharacterSketch of - - 462 Village Pastor, 449 Knapp, SaulLife of a Yankee, - 186 Virtues Ghost, 242 Lines written at Sea, - - - 340 Vision, 63 Lines to a Village Warrior, - - 474 Village WarriorLines to, - - 474 Leaf from an Old Almanac, - - 240 West-Point, 265 Leaves torn out of a Scrap Book, - 157, 407 i White Sulphur Springs, - - - 222 Life Beyond the Frontier, - - 22, 128 Walking, 113 Literary Portraits,No. IV.Charles Sprague, 89 I Writin~s of Sir Walter Scott, - 13 Life of a Yammkee, 1864- Yankecisms, iNDEX. M ONT liLY RECORD. POLITICS AND STATISTICS. Page. Connecticut, . 73 499 Georgia, 245,509 Illinois, 75, 240 Maryland, 500 Massachusetts, 70,498 Maine, 497 New-Hampshire, 70 New-Jersey, 499 Ohio 74 Pennsylvania, 73, 500 Rhode-Island, 73 499 South-Carolina, - 2-14, 418, 501 Tennessee, 502 United States, - 65, 159, 243, 341, 415 Vermont, 420 497 Virginia. 501 LITERARY NOTICES. Adams, John lAnincyDermot Morrogh, - 503 Atwater, C atebReniarks made on a Tour to Prairie do Chien, in 1829, - - 247 Allen ZacharialiThe Practical Tourist or Skeiches of Arts, Icc. in Great-Britain, France, and tioltand, - - - - 167 AihamiraBy the Author of the Sketch Bunk 81 American Almanac, and Repository of Useful Knowledge, for 1833, - 517 Barney, Commodore JoshuaBiographical Memoir of the late - - - 253 Broivue ,J. BEtymological Encyclopm- dia of Technical Words and Phrases, 255 Barrett, Rev. Sa auelA Sermon preached in the 12th Con~regational Church, Bos- ton, on the Day of Fasting, & c. - 257 Calved, Ge H.Illustrations of Phre- nology, - - - - - - 428 Cleaveland, A. BStudies in Poetry and Prose, 345 Gushing, CalebOration, 4th of July, - 346 Cod.man JohnThe Faith of the Pilgrims, a Sermon, 82 Child, Mrs.La,Iiss a mily Library, v. I. 83 Correspondence between the First Church and Tabernacle Church in Salem, 84 Dunlap, WilliamHistory of the American Theatre, 507 Davenport, R. A.A Dictionary of Biog- raphy, 343 Dreams and Reveries of a 6~uiet Man, - 344 Emmons, Samuel B.Gramatical Justine ter, 513 Everett, EdwardIntroductory Address to the Franklin Lectures, Boston, 1831, 427 Edwards, B. BMissionary Gazetteer, - 345 Encyclopedia Americana, Vol. X. - - 170 Parrier, JohnTract on Comets, - - 258 Flint, TimothyHistory and Geography of the Mississippi Valley and of the At- lantic United States, and the whole American Continent, - - - - 79 Goodrich, S. ~.The Token, for 1833, - 425 Goodrich, S. G.A System of Universal Geography, 342 Glauber-SpaTales of - - - - 511 Hordyoski, JosephHistory of the Polish Revolution, 165 Hall, tamesLegends of the West, - 169 Page. tieldenmacurBy the Author of the Pral rie,& c. 423 Knapp, Samuel L.Advice in the Pursuits of Literature, 530 Kent, GeorgeAn Oration before the Phi Beta Kappa of Dartmouth College, 427 Pearl, or Affections Gift, - - - 426 Parker, K. G.Peogressive Exercises in English Composition, - - - 169 Palfm-ey, John C-Discourse delivered on Fast day, 256 Prison Discipline Society Seventh Annual Report of the Board of Managers, - 515 lAnincy, Josiah Address at time Dedica tion of Dane Law College, - - - 512 Swallow Barn, or a Sojourn in the Old Do- minion, - - - 711 Studies in Poetry and Pmose, - - - 345 Sulliw mm, Vm Jim-sm Discourse before the Massachusetts Society for the Suppres sion of Imiceinpei iice, - - - 82 Simpson, Stephen Biography of Stephen Girard, - - - 84 Story JosephCommentaries on tIme Law of Bailments, - - - - - 84 Thachier, 175. B.lndi,mn Bio~raphy, - - 510 Thacher, Jameshistory of Plymnoutli, - 344 View of tIme Valley of the Mississippi, or Emigrants amid Travelers Guide, - 343 Webster, NoahHistory United States, - 342 Walker, TimothyAn Address before the Union Liten ry Society of liami Uni- versity, 513 Withington, LeonardThe Soul of Man, A Sermon, 80 Wines, E. C Two years and a half in theJavy - - - 421 Willis, -obeit ihe Thierican Pliaros, or Light House Guide - - - 346 V ~estward lb a tale by the author of the Dutctmmeman s Fireside & c - - - 424 Whittier, John G The Literary Remains ol J. G. C Biamnaid, with a sketch of his life, - - - 254 I ISCELLANIES. Dog, - 173 Education of time Blind - 171 Eel in the Stonmacli, 172 Indian Prophecy, 173 Marshalls Pillar, 429 Natural Philosophy, 428 Newly Discovered Cave in Pennsylvania, 174 New Ornamental Tree, 174 Presbyterian Church, 261 evolution Relics, 262 Statue of Washington, - - - 260 Saratoga and Schenectady Rail-Road, - 172 Tramle in the West, 262 Wheeling, 173 UNIVERSITIES AND COLLEGES AND LITERARY SOCIETIES, 171, 259, 3-17. OBITUAPY NOTICES, 85, 262, 349, 430, 517 OUP FILE, - - - -175, 264, 352, 431 LITERARY INTELLIGENCE, 88, 176, 439 iv 1TThTLAVNJIIVJL ThIwT~ilD

Early American Artists and Mechanics Original Papers 1-7

THE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINTh JULY, 1832. ORIGINAL PAPERS. EARLY AMERICAN ARTISTS AND MECHANICS. NO. I. NATHANIEL HURJJ. THREE seemingly inglorious discoveries improved the world, and changed the affairs of men, more than any king, conqueror, or reformer ever did, viz, the discovery and use of Gun-Powder, the Mariners Compass, and the art of Engraving and Printing. The tw& last gradually banished barbarism, and humanized the world. The multiplication of books by the Ars Artium omnium Gon- servatrix, and of drawings by the beautiful art of Engraving, produced a radiance of knowledge which has secured the human race from those horrid shocks of Gothicism, which overran Greece and the Ro- man empire. When the Mariners Compass appeared to extend the world by the discovery of America, and the Telescope the Universe, Printing and the Engraving of maps, and the wonders of Astronomy, displayed their grandeur. For want of these, the ancients dwelt in comparative darkness. Authors had but just seen the facility of spreading their works by printing, when Sculptors and Painters seized hold of the discovery, to multiply their Rroductions, by cutting their pictures on copper, and impressing them on paper, to the great advantage of their art, and to the still gruater advantage of geography and natural history. Little, says Horace Walpole (Lord Orford,) did the monarchs of Egypt think, when they erected their enormous Pyramids, with a view to record and eternize their names, that a weed, then growing by their own river Nile, would one day be converted into more durable registers of fame, than all the stupendoas pyramids they could erect; and yet the use of paper and the art of printing, has ensured endless fame to the arts of Egypt, while its monarchs vainly sought it by enormous piles of stone. The verses of Homer, the works of Plato and of Aristotle have continued thousands of years without loss; in which time what numberless palaces, temples, castles, cities, kingdoms and empires have been demolished, and swept from VOL. III. 1 2 Early Artists and Mechanics. the face of the earth. May not printing, by moveable types, and by engravings on copper and on stone, be justly called the PRE5ERVING ART OF ALL OTHER ART5? Of the seven-and-twenty centuries, in which the memory and learn- ing of mankind have been exercised, scarcely six can be culled out as fertile in the sciences, or favorable to humanity; and all for want of the multiplication of books and drawings by the art of printing and engraving on brass or copper. By means of it the intellectual world was equally enlarged with the discoveries of the material one. The history of type-printing is well known to our readers, but that is not the case with Engraving. The history of Engraving and of Engravers is but little known amongst us; and we hope our first steps in it may encourage more able persons to pursue it with a persevering industry equal to its importance. The fine arts, so called, are generally traced to no higher a source than to the Grecians. We must go farther back for the art of engrav- ing. It was known to the builders of Solomons Temple, and we trace the word itself to a Hebrexv root. The word translated carving, in the 6th Chap. of 1 Book of Kings, is derived from the verb to plough, because its cuttings resembled furrows. Hence the Latin Vul- gate translates the Hebrew word by sculpsitand inciditand by ca3lavit, or embossing, and, perhaps, gilding. The Romans engraved on brass, as seen in the votive tablets in their temples of iEsculapius; but they never thought to impress their engrav- ings on paper. As the modern Italians led the way in Painting, so they led the van in Engraving. Marc Anthony Raimondi was patronized by Raphael, and engraved most of his works. The first book published with engraved figures was a book of anatomy at Padua, by Vesalius, which was translated into English by Gemini, who lived in Black Friars. About this time (1551) William Turner, Physician to the Duke of Somerset, published the first book of Botany in England, enti- tled a New Herball, a very curious and elegant production. It is in the old black letter, with a very handsomely flourished large capital letter at the beginning of each article. There is but one older book in our University Library, at Cambridge. Archbishop Parker took into his palace at Lambeth a German engraver named Hogenburgh, who engraved the bishops portrait on brass, and also that of the king. But the Low Countries, we mean Flanders and Holland, were the the- atre at that time of the fine arts. At Antwerp the first engraved map was published, entitled Theatrum Orbis Terrarum. Soon after that, Christopher Saxon, a native of Yorkshire, engraved a set of maps of the counties of England and Wales; at the corners whereof were, beside the royal arms, the pictures of the city of York, and the port of Hull. From stubborn plates of brass, they at length passed to the use of more flexible plates of copper; but they made little other improvement for nearly a century. In 1627 the engraved portraits of King James First, of queen Mary, and of queen Elizabeth, the Earl of North- umberland, the Duchess of Richmond, and Sir Thomas Gresham, appeared; but we forget the name of the artist, only that he was a for- eigner. King Charles I. was very fond of the art of engraving as well of painting, and encouraged both. He conferred upon VOEJtST, a Dutch- Early Artists and illiechanics. 3 man, the title of Engraver to the King. The same artist engraved portraits of the King, the Queen, and Nobility, from the paintings of his countryman, the celebrated VANDYKE, in a free and masterly style. This may be considered the era of the first good engravings in Eng- land. When Cromwell assumed the regal power, he by no means neglected the arts. The coins and medals struck in his reign, as well as miniature painting, exceeded all that appeared before his time. In Holland about this time flourished VOSTERMAN, who was patron- ized by the famous RUBENS, and where he was to Rubens what Voerst was in England to Vandyke. Vandyke himself executed sev- eral admirable etchings by aid of aqua-fortis, and the dry point, or fine engraving tool. The next engraver of eminence that appeared in Holland was HOLLAR. He too passed over into England, where, under the patronage of the Earl of Arundel, he produced some fine speci- mens of his art. But he was, what was rare enough among the Dutch, unsteady and given up to pleasure, and died poor. The famous PRINCE RUPERT, nephew of Charles I. after the death ~of his uncle, devoted his time to chemistry and philosophy, and, it is said, invented mezzotinto engraving. This is done by making numer- ous lines on copperplate close to each other, then at right angles, and lastly diagonally, so that, when impressed on paper, it makes one uni- form black impression, resembling fine black cloth. Then the picture is drawn upon it; and where the artist wishes to have the light and soft representations of flesh in the human countcnance, or in the dra- pery, he scratches ~and polishes the rough copper, so as to suit his de- sign. It has in some pictures a very pleasant effect; but it fails in the hair arni in the beard. Most of the engraved portaits from the paint- ings of Sir Joshua Reynolds were executed in mezzotinto. But after all the pains taken by the best artists, they fall short of the exquisite ~effect of the curved lines cut into the copper by the keen graver; so that the linear mode of this beautiful art, as we see it in the works of Mr. STRANGE, in England, and IIoIJBRAKEN, in Germany, still main- tain their merited pre-eminence. Some engravings of naked infancy, where there are no angles but all circulars, are really enchanting. There is more art and more nature in this mode of engraving than in any other. It requires more pains and demands more patience than any other mode. In speaking of the art of cngraving, we must not pass over in si- lence the name of GEORGE VERTUE, who, though not holding the ye- r y first rank in the execution of the art, was greatly distinguished in the history of it. He was born in London, 1684, died in 1756, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. He was a learned antiquarian, knew the history of painting and engraving, and of the artists in both branches, and was himself a very accurate and faultless professor of it. His works are numerous, carefully labored, but not remarkable for spirit. He redeemed from time and obscurity many valuable relics of former ages: hence he became a great favorite of Lord Orford. After Mr. Vertue came the less patronized but more ingenious Ho- GARTH, who was both engraver and painter. His original business was that of which, I believe, we have not yet a professor in these United States; I mean a mere silverplate engraver; as they have in England, and other monarchies, where there is a very important art and science, 4 Early Artists and Mechanics. which we know little or nothing about, viz, heraldry, or blazonry of no- Me genealogy. At the age of twenty-one, instead of copying the ridic- ulous monsters scratched on ensigns armorial, Hogarth wisely deter- mined to copy nature on copperlates, and on canvass. This led him to study not merely the human figure, but, in a particular manner, the human countenance in all the expressions of the heart and mind, and in this he exceeded every artist that preceded, or followed him. He was the great moral painter, and his peculiar excellency is as well known in this country as in his own. He practised etching rather than cutting with the graver, or style, by hand.; as it allowed of an abrupt, and often of a ragged manner, entirely adapted to most of his sub- jects; especially in pieces where drollery and burlesque, or ridiculous distress, predominated. He could paint almost all the eight parts of speech.* Engraving in the red-chalk manner is called stippling. The litho- graphic, or engraving on stone, now much in vogue, stands between the linear engraving and the mezzotinto; but every species of engrav- ing must yield the palm to the linear, or true sculpsit, or inc dit, or plough-furrow method, pursued by Houbraken, Strange, Woollet, and some other great masters in the art. The art of copperplate engraving is but of recent date in this coun- try. Prior to fifty years past we had no other than silver plate en- graving, and this not by persons who made it, as in Europe, their whole business, but by silversmiths. He who made the tankard, the vase, and the coffee-pot, executed the needed engraving; but when we commenced giving services of plate to heroes and other meritorious characters, the business gradually centred in persons who followed no other business. Amongst our seal-cutters, and die-engravers, and engravers on copper, was NATHANIEL HURD. His grandfather came from Eng- land, and settled in Charlestown, now connected to Boston by abridge, like the borough of Southwark with London. He died in that town in 1749, aged 70. His son Jacob married the only daughter of John Mason of Kingston, in the island of Jamaica, and died in the year 1758. He was the father of Nathaniel Hurd, who is the prominent subject of this memoir. In seal-cutting and die-engraving, Mr. Hurd was considered superior to any in the colonies. Coats of arms, pictures, and carvings were not much valued and sought after, a century ago, in New-England. rrhey approximated too near to graven images, in the view of our puritanical forefathers, to meet with much encouragement. Portrait painting, however, met with considerable countenance. They deemed it a mark of family affection, and individual respect and es- teem, so that from the time of Mr. Smyhert, who came over to this country with Dean Berkley, down to the period when Copley flourished as our first portrait painter, there were very few families, in easy cir- cumstances, who had not a picture by the hand of that very eminent American painter; but as to engravings on copperplate by ~an Ameri- can, there was hardly such a thing to be seen in NewJngland; and * The ostentatious nobility and gambling gentry appear to feel the reproaches from the press and the drama, while those in lower ranks were touched by the moral pencil of Hogarth, and started back with shame and affright from the mirror thus held up to them, and many were awak- ened to recollection and remorse. [Dr. Waterhouses Essay on JuNlus, p. 139.] EariN Artists and Mechanics. 5 those we had from England, of William Pitt, Generals Wolfe and Am- herst, and the King of Prussia, George Whitfield and John Wesley, in the Gentlemans Magazine, by Sylvanus Urban, were miserable produc~ tions. We had, from London, a few maps, by T. Kitchin, and s~ime, about the time of the Stamp Act, by Jeifries, geographer to the King, whose son died a few years since in the Boston almshouse, insane. About the year 1774, a mezzotinto engraver and print-seller came from London to Newport, Rhode-Island. He engraved one or two very good copies of Mr. Copleys portraits, especially one of a venerable clergyman; but the state of the country in regard to politics induced him to return home.* Hurd was a real genius. To a superior mode of execution he added a Hogarthian talent of character and humor. Among other things of his, he engraved a descriptive representation of a certain swindler, and forger of bills, named Hudson, a foreigner, standing in the pillory. In the crowd of spectators, he introduced the likenesses of some well- known characters, which excited much good-natured mirth. What has tended to make the name of flurd familiar to all, is the repre- sentation of the Seal of the University, surmounted with appro.. priate ornaments, with a plain spread curtain beneath, in which is writ- ten the name of the donor, who gave the book, or from what fund, or by what purchase, it came into the Library. This in 30,000 volumes is enough to give a humble degree of celebrity to Nathaniel Hard, without the ingenuity of his engraved escutcheon, which is pasted on the inner side of every volume. Some very curious and highly valuable books, that are not ailowed to be taken out by students, have the escutcheon printed in red ink. But whether in red or black ink, the name of N. Hurd, scalp. is affixed to all of them. Of the incidents of Mr. Hards life, little is now known, and all that is here given is gathered up from the remembrances of a few, who knew him as a man while they were children, and from the works he has left behind him. He was probably the first person who under- took to engrave on copper in the United States. We have seen a mini- ature likeness of the Rev. Dr. Sewall, minister of the Old South Church in Boston, engraved by Hurd, in the linear style, in 1764.t In this art he was his own instructer. There are still extant a few pictures of a different character, done on copper, by Hard, about the same period. One is a representation of the melnorable massacre of citizens, on the fifth of March, 1770. Another, and more remarkable one is that men- * A few years later than the period here mentioned, there were a number of mechanics of great genius in the arts of seal-cutting, and what was called Plate Work. We have seen a manuscript in the possession of the Hon. Judge Davis of Boston, written by his brother, the late Saoiuel Davis, Esq. of Plymouth, in which mention is made of a journeyman by the name of Vent, a native of Germany, who excelled in siver-plate engraving. He mentions also, Drigdon, Webb, Edwards, Pierpont, Bui-t, Bowyer, Parker, (the father of the late Chief Justice Parker) Delknap, Emery, Holmes, Tyler, Woodward, Frothiogham, Codner, and though last, not least, Paul Revere, with a biographical notice of whom we intend to enrich a future number of the Magazine. Of lord, who was dead before Mr. Davis commenced his apprenticeship in 1779, he says : In seal-cutting and die-siuking, he would be unrivalled in New-England, if not in the United-States, even now, [1810.] New-England manners, at the time he lived, were not propi- tious to workmen of fancy and taste; yet seals and shop-bills, and other productions of Hurd, claim peculiar respect, eve~ at the present polished era of art. It will be seen from this date, that Dr. Silliman has committed an error, in claiming for Mr. Don- little, of New-haven, the priority in point of time, among American engravers on copper. There are productions of Paul Revere, also, of a date considerably anterior to the earliest of Doolittles works. See Sillimans Journal of Science and the Arts, April, 1832. 6 Early Artists and Jiliechanics. tioned above, representing the punishment of two notorious rogues, a more particular history of which may be entertaining. In the year i76~2, there appeared in Boston, a curious character, who called himself Doctor Hudson. He gave out that he was a Dutchman; that he was possessed of a large fortune, and was traveling for his amusement. He was dressed very gaily; tried to push himself into gen- teel company; and, though rather expensive in his appearance, he shewed but little money and displayed no resources. He was well watched. After some time, a fellow was detected in putting off a note purporting to be from the Treasurer of the Province, which proved a counterfeit. His name was Howe; he confessed he was a partner in villany with Doctor Hudson, and that they had been privately engaged in making up a number of the Province notes, which were in high credit in this and the neighboring Provinces, and sold readily at an ad- vanced price. The Doctor was also taken into custody. They were tried and convicted; Hudson was ordered to the pillory and Howe to the whipping-post. The execution of their sentence was accompanied by a collection of an immense crowd, and immoderate exultation. Hurd immediately put out a caricature print of the exhibition, which excited much attention. Hudson was represented in the pillory, and at a short distance was Howe, stripping, near the whipping-post. The Devil is represented flying towards the Doctor, exclaiming, This is the man for me. In front of the print is the representation of a medall- ion, on which is a profile of Hudson, dressed in a bag-wig, with a sword under his arm, (as he generally appeared before his detection,) partly drawn from the scabbard, with the words Dutch Tuck, on the exposed part of the blade. Round the edge is THE TRUE PROFILE OF THE NOTORIOUS DOCTOR SETH HuDsoN, 176S. The Doctor is represented as addressing the multitude in the follow- ing speech, which is said to have been written by the celebrated wit and poet, Joseph Green. What mean these crowds, this noise and roar? Did ye ne er see a rogue before? Are villains then a sight so rare, To make you press, and gape, and stare? Come forward all, who look so fine, With gain as illy got as mine: Step upyou 11 soon reverse the show; The crowd above, and few below. Wellfor my roguery here I stand, A spectacle to all the land; High elevated on this stage, The greatest villain of the age. My crimes have been both great and many Equalled by very few, if any; And for the mischiefs I have done, I put this wooden neckclotl~ on. There HOWE his brawny back is stripping, Quite callous grown with often whipping. In vain you wear your whip-cord out; You 11 neer reclaim that rogue so stout. To make him honesttake my word You must apply a bigger cord. Sports of Childhood. Now all ye, who behold this sight, That ye may get some profit by t, Keep always in your mind, I pray, These few words that I have to say: Follow my steps, and you may be, In time, perhaps, advanced like me; Or, like my fellow-laborer HOWE, You 11 get, at least, a post below. [Sold by N. Hurd, near the Exchange, and at the Heart & Crown, in Cornhill, Boston.] Mr. Hurd, had he lived to a more advanced age, would doubtless have distinguished himself yet more in an art, in the exercise of which, it is evident, he took great (lelight, and for which, it is equally inani- fest, he had both taste and talent. He was born in Boston, Feb. 13, 1730, and died Dec. 17, 1777, before he had attained the age of forty- eight. There is an original picture of him, painted by Copley, in the possession of one of his relatives at Medford, Mass. From that pic- ture, a man by the name of JENNINGS (of whom we can learn little else) engraved a likeness in mezzotinto; and of that mezzotinto, the lithographic print which accompanies this memoir, is, as near as the different modes of engraving will admit, an exact copy. SPORTS OF CHILDHOOD. I have been young, and now am old. WHEN a happy child, I longed for manhood, and I am now a care- worn man. Reason and reality sway their stern sceptre over me, and their domination may be traced in my furrowed brow. Wisdom has scattered snows on my temples, and Prudence shot ice to my soul; the sports of the child have long been lost in the pursuits of the man. We should be too happy to die with resignation, could we retain amidst our experience and later knowledge, the buoyancy of youthful spirits, and continue to hope boldly and blindly in spite of disappoint- ment. That the boy is father to the man may be good poetry, but it is no true philosophy. The soul, indeed, is sexual, for how early does the feminine attach itself to finery and to dolls. I, who am of the less graceful sex, should have been an equestrian of note, were the indica- tions of character, in childhood to be trusted. A centaur was my type; before I was clad in trowsers, I was to be seen prancing in the garden, on a willow twig, like a witch upon a broomstick, and Sancho upon Clavileno, could not, in imagination move more swiftly. I was carried away by the impulse and the twig, and Orlando, mounted on Boyardo, felt less pride than I. My next aspirations were for arms; and Bellona, in spite of my zeal, would have smiled at my equipments. Bows and arrows, that ex- cited the mirth of Captain Dalghetty, before they stretched him on the earth, were my first arms. I could not use them with the skill of Tell, or even of the primitive archer A. Had a pumpkin been placed at two yards, on the head of an ox, I should have hit neither the one

P. P. Sports of Childhood Original Papers 7-9

Sports of Childhood. Now all ye, who behold this sight, That ye may get some profit by t, Keep always in your mind, I pray, These few words that I have to say: Follow my steps, and you may be, In time, perhaps, advanced like me; Or, like my fellow-laborer HOWE, You 11 get, at least, a post below. [Sold by N. Hurd, near the Exchange, and at the Heart & Crown, in Cornhill, Boston.] Mr. Hurd, had he lived to a more advanced age, would doubtless have distinguished himself yet more in an art, in the exercise of which, it is evident, he took great (lelight, and for which, it is equally inani- fest, he had both taste and talent. He was born in Boston, Feb. 13, 1730, and died Dec. 17, 1777, before he had attained the age of forty- eight. There is an original picture of him, painted by Copley, in the possession of one of his relatives at Medford, Mass. From that pic- ture, a man by the name of JENNINGS (of whom we can learn little else) engraved a likeness in mezzotinto; and of that mezzotinto, the lithographic print which accompanies this memoir, is, as near as the different modes of engraving will admit, an exact copy. SPORTS OF CHILDHOOD. I have been young, and now am old. WHEN a happy child, I longed for manhood, and I am now a care- worn man. Reason and reality sway their stern sceptre over me, and their domination may be traced in my furrowed brow. Wisdom has scattered snows on my temples, and Prudence shot ice to my soul; the sports of the child have long been lost in the pursuits of the man. We should be too happy to die with resignation, could we retain amidst our experience and later knowledge, the buoyancy of youthful spirits, and continue to hope boldly and blindly in spite of disappoint- ment. That the boy is father to the man may be good poetry, but it is no true philosophy. The soul, indeed, is sexual, for how early does the feminine attach itself to finery and to dolls. I, who am of the less graceful sex, should have been an equestrian of note, were the indica- tions of character, in childhood to be trusted. A centaur was my type; before I was clad in trowsers, I was to be seen prancing in the garden, on a willow twig, like a witch upon a broomstick, and Sancho upon Clavileno, could not, in imagination move more swiftly. I was carried away by the impulse and the twig, and Orlando, mounted on Boyardo, felt less pride than I. My next aspirations were for arms; and Bellona, in spite of my zeal, would have smiled at my equipments. Bows and arrows, that ex- cited the mirth of Captain Dalghetty, before they stretched him on the earth, were my first arms. I could not use them with the skill of Tell, or even of the primitive archer A. Had a pumpkin been placed at two yards, on the head of an ox, I should have hit neither the one 8 Sports of Childhood. nor the other. Robin Hood and Little John, though derided by Dal- ghetty, were to me the most honorable persons in history. Our youth- ful band, however, adopted or imitated some of the improvements in the art of war. We marched in paper caps, surmounted with a goose- quill; we girded ourselves with a belt of twine from which dangled a blade of wood. I have seen companies in the militia with no better discipline or equipments. All the sons of New-England have a tendency to mechanics; their aim is not to save labor, but to double the product. I was therefore early indoctrinated in the mystery of a mill, and soon built one, with no other tools than a jack-knife and a broken fork; it was what we called a trip-hammer, moved by water, to strike upon a wooden anvil. The dam was the work of days, and I conducted the water of Goose Creek to a new channel, and a fall of seven feet. The dam remains one of the monuments of my childhood. Few others exist, except those of memory and thought, which are deeply engraven on my soul. I forget the conversations and occurrences of yesterday, while I remember, freshly, the most trifling occurrences, or passing thoughts of childhood. It was but lately that I went by the place of the mill, in which if you should ask for the edifice, echo might answer, where ! and it afflicted me to feel how little I have found in what others call a pros- perous life, that has proved as satisfactory and innocent as the pur- suits of early youth. Had I been a lachrymose poet, I could have wept; but, being only a foolish elderly man, I doffed coat, and worked an hour in clearing the channel and repairing the dam. Two of my nephews came up and caught me in the fact; but they were children, and loved me the better for having with them this community of feeling. Is it I who am changed, or has nature changed around me? The birds are no longer cheerful to me, the morning air in a south-west wind no longer breathes of flowers, as when I was a child. I have lost, like Macbeth, that alacrity, and cheer of mind. I mourn, but ye woodlands, I mourn not for you. Ye are waving and green, and your dews are as brilliant as when I brushed them away; but I have no longer the sense of enjoyment. I am changed. Novelty and freshness no longer charm me; I am all habit. 1 have a course, not of pleasures, but of life, like that of the horse in his mill, and which he enjoys not, though custom renders it endurable. Admit the worn-out animal to the green pastures, and he no longer frisks and plays; but from habit, he still continues to walk round in a circle, even in cropping the clover. Where is my taste for the beautiful and the sublime? Yet is nature full of sublimity and beauty. Would that I were again a child, though the most ragged and bronzed, that ever climbed for a crows nest, and made loaves of mud by the way-side. Farewell! I may say with Madame Roland, splendid chimeras of youth, from which I have reaped so much de- light! sublime illusions, generous sacrifices, hope and happiness, farewell! P. 9 THE SCHOOLMASTER. CRAP. IV. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE METROPOLIS. Qui n a pas vu Paris, n a rien vu. Proverbe Fran~ais. Paris semblo ii mes yeux un Pais de Romans. Corneille. Le Mienteur. Guillot, qui a fait majat biaus dits, Dit quil na quo trois cent et dix, Rues ~t Paris vraiement, Le dous Seigneur du Firmament Et sa tr~s douce chore Mere Nous deffende do more amere. Guillot. Les Rues do Paris mises en vers anci ens. To a Stranger, who visits Paris without having, previously visited any of the principal European cities, the first week of his residence in the French metropolis is more like a dream than a reality. The pal- aces, the gardens, the splendid public edifices, the vast squares, the statues, and columns, and fountains, the noble bridges, the thronged streets, and the magnificent boulevards that encircle all, fill the mind of the stranger with astonishment and delight: and if the novelty and splendor around him do not force him to repeat the old proverb, that he ~vho has not seen Paris, has seen nothing, they will more than half persuade him that he is dwelling in the land of romance and a region of enchantment. My gentle reader, it does not enter into the plan, which I proposed to myself at the commencement of these papers, to give you a detailed description of the wonders and curiosities of the cities I have visited. I shall not, therefore, attempt to describe the palaces, gardens, and churches of Paris; but if you are disposed to stroll with me through the city, I will lead you to some of its pleasantest walks, and point out to you many things, which have a place in history, though per- chance you will not find them in the guide-hook. Sallying forth, then, from my chamber, in the quiet Faubourg Saint Germain, we lirst enter the Rue Vaugirard, and, advancing a few paces, turn to the left through an arched gate-way, guarded by a sen- tinel, and pass into the beautiful garden of the Luxembourg. The sun is just rising over the noiseless streets, and shooting his level rays aslant this little solitude, buried in the midst of a populous city. The freshness of the hour is delightful. The flowers, that surround the basin in the parterre, perfume the air, the birds are twittering in the trees, and the marble statues stretch their gigantic shadows along the gravel walks. Leaving, on the right hand, the Palace of the Lux- embourg, with its square antique pavilions, its long terraces and open galleries, we pass on, and, ascending a flight of stone steps, find our- selves among the trees. The slight building you see yonder is not a sentry-box but a bureau desjournaux; and the grave personages, whom you see here and there seated on the stone benches of the garden, and deeply engaged in reading, are not students, who have strolled forth to breathe the morning air, but restless politicians, eagerly poring over the columns of the morning paper, and inhaling the sweet breath of a ministerial proclamation. Farther on among the trees, and so dis- voL. iii.

The Schoolmaster Original Papers 9-13

9 THE SCHOOLMASTER. CRAP. IV. RECOLLECTIONS OF THE METROPOLIS. Qui n a pas vu Paris, n a rien vu. Proverbe Fran~ais. Paris semblo ii mes yeux un Pais de Romans. Corneille. Le Mienteur. Guillot, qui a fait majat biaus dits, Dit quil na quo trois cent et dix, Rues ~t Paris vraiement, Le dous Seigneur du Firmament Et sa tr~s douce chore Mere Nous deffende do more amere. Guillot. Les Rues do Paris mises en vers anci ens. To a Stranger, who visits Paris without having, previously visited any of the principal European cities, the first week of his residence in the French metropolis is more like a dream than a reality. The pal- aces, the gardens, the splendid public edifices, the vast squares, the statues, and columns, and fountains, the noble bridges, the thronged streets, and the magnificent boulevards that encircle all, fill the mind of the stranger with astonishment and delight: and if the novelty and splendor around him do not force him to repeat the old proverb, that he ~vho has not seen Paris, has seen nothing, they will more than half persuade him that he is dwelling in the land of romance and a region of enchantment. My gentle reader, it does not enter into the plan, which I proposed to myself at the commencement of these papers, to give you a detailed description of the wonders and curiosities of the cities I have visited. I shall not, therefore, attempt to describe the palaces, gardens, and churches of Paris; but if you are disposed to stroll with me through the city, I will lead you to some of its pleasantest walks, and point out to you many things, which have a place in history, though per- chance you will not find them in the guide-hook. Sallying forth, then, from my chamber, in the quiet Faubourg Saint Germain, we lirst enter the Rue Vaugirard, and, advancing a few paces, turn to the left through an arched gate-way, guarded by a sen- tinel, and pass into the beautiful garden of the Luxembourg. The sun is just rising over the noiseless streets, and shooting his level rays aslant this little solitude, buried in the midst of a populous city. The freshness of the hour is delightful. The flowers, that surround the basin in the parterre, perfume the air, the birds are twittering in the trees, and the marble statues stretch their gigantic shadows along the gravel walks. Leaving, on the right hand, the Palace of the Lux- embourg, with its square antique pavilions, its long terraces and open galleries, we pass on, and, ascending a flight of stone steps, find our- selves among the trees. The slight building you see yonder is not a sentry-box but a bureau desjournaux; and the grave personages, whom you see here and there seated on the stone benches of the garden, and deeply engaged in reading, are not students, who have strolled forth to breathe the morning air, but restless politicians, eagerly poring over the columns of the morning paper, and inhaling the sweet breath of a ministerial proclamation. Farther on among the trees, and so dis- voL. iii. 10 The Schoolmaster. tant that their merry voices scarcely reach our ears, is a group of school-girls, who, under the watchful eye of a sage mamma, are enjoy- ing a game of quatre-coins or puss-in-the-corner. We will disturb neither the brown-study of the politician, nor the mirth of the school- girl, but continue our way along the edge of the grove and this range of marble statues, which look down upon us from their lofty pedestals. Most of them, you perceive, are broken and mutilated; one has lost a hand; another a foot, and another its nose. For this you may thank the revolution and the allied armies of the Bourbon restoration. We now enter the wide avenue of the Observatory, and, passing through an iron gate-way, leave the garden behind us. Beneath that tree on the right, fell the brave but unfortunate Marshal Ney: May heaven forgive his murderers! The quadrangular edifice in front of us is the Observatory, a building sacred to the study of astronomy. It was built in 1677, by order of Louis XIV. after the designs of Claude Perrault; and has four fafades corresponding to the four cardinal points. The line of the southern front corresponds with the latitude of Paris, and the halls are divided by a meridian, from which the French astronomers and geographers count their latitude. Let us turn and pass down this street, which leads us a little to the right. It is the Rue dEnfer. Startle not at the name, and as we pass along I will relate a tradition concerning it. In olden time, Saint Louis was so much edified by the accounts he heard of the austere and silent lives of the disciples of Saint Bruno,. that he invited a small brother- hood of that order to Paris, and gave them a house with gardens and vineyards at the village of Gen~ill~y,. which lies just beyond the barrier of Fontainbleau. From their windows, the taciturn monks could dis- cern the ancient l)alace of Vauvert, built near where we are now passing, by King Robert, but abandoned by his successors. The monks of Gentilly thought within, themselves how convenient this spot would be for a monastery and straightway the old chateau was haunted by strange apparitions and hobgoblins. Horrid groans were heard by night, and a band of spectres marched through the apart- ments, dragging heavy chains, and led by a huge green monster, half man and half serpent, wearing a long white beard, and wielding a heavy mace, with which, ever and anon, he menaced from the win- dows, those who were luckless enough to pass that way after dark. The haunted chateau inspired terror through the whole neighborhood. To calm the fears of the people, the good Carthusians of Gentilly asked it of Saint Louis, and had it for the asking, with all its ap- purtenances and dependencies. From that time to this, neither ghost nor devil has shown his face in the neighborhood; but in memory of the times of old the street still bears the name of his majestys abode. Let us now cross into the Rue St. Jacques. The noble edifice in the front of us is the church of St. Genevi~ve, built by Louis XV. Its form is that of a Grecian cross, its vast dome, composed of three cupo- las, rising over the common centre or nave. The portico in front is magnificent. It is supported upon twenty-two fluted columns, each five feet in diameter, and fifty-eight in height :a beautiful imitation of the Pantheon of Rome. We will not enter, lest the beauty of the interior should seduce us from our walk. Let us elbow our way through this noisy crowd of market-women that fill the street. One is The Schoolmaster. 11 driving before her a little donkey well laden with panniers of vege- tables, and another carries upon her back a basket of various kinds of fruit. Their shrill voices, and the clatter of their sabots upon the pavement, interrupt all conversation between us. In the quaint lan- guage of one of the old writers of the thirteenth century, Parmi Paris jusqu It Ia nuit, INe cuidiez vous quil br anuit, Que jIt ne seront It sejor: Oiez con crie au point du jor. Or i a fromage de Brie Au burre frl~s, n oublie mie. Cras ~O15 1 a, aoust de pesches, Poires de Chailbou, e nois fresches. .1 al cerises, or an ~verjus; Or lila por~e qajus; Or i a ol~s, or aus poriaus, Chaus pastez i a, chaus gastiaus. Or i a poisson de Bondies, Chaudes oubk~es renforcies, Las flauns chaus pas nes oublie; I ai chastaingues de Lombardie, Figuesde Melites sanz fin, I ai roisin d outre mer, roisin, I ai por~es, et s ai naviaus, I ni pois en cosse toz noviaus. Et autres choses assez crie, Que raconter ne vous sai nile; Taut i a denr~es It vendre Tenir ne me puis de despendre; Que se javoie, grant avoir, Et de chascun vousisse avoir De son mestier urre ~denr~e, Je auroit moultcorte dur~e.* (In the streets of Paris you hear the market-people cry from day- ~break till evening, nor think it fatigues them, for they never cease to cry Cherries! verjuice.! come buy my greens! eggs and onions! hot patties! hot cakes! Here s fine fish from Bondy! hot wafers, hot biscuit, dont forget ! Lombardy chestnuts! IJfaltese figs, without end! grapes of Palestine, grapes! greens and turnips! green pease in pods, fresh and new ! And other things in abundance they cry, which I cannot repeat. So many articles are there for sale, that I cannot refrain from spending. And ~f I had great wealth, and from each one wouldbuy an article in his line, my wealth would not last me long.) We are now, at the foot of the street, and are coming out upon the Quai-auz-Fleurs. On the left rise the conical roofs of the towers of the famous Conciergerie, and on the right the flower-market displays its treasures, and scatters its perfume. Before us sweeps the Seine, and the wide bridge, which seems to invite our footsteps to cross, is the Pont-au-change. It was formerly covered with houses four stories high; they were all demolished in 1788. In former times permission was given to the marchands d oiseaux, or venders of birds, to sell upon this bridge; in consideration of which privilege they were obliged to set at liberty two hundred dozen of their feathered prisoners when the King and Queen made their entr6e into the city. This was an * Les Cricries de Paris; par Guillaume de Ia Villeneuve. 12 The & hoolmaster. emblem of the liberty which the new monarch promised his people, signifying that the oppression of a former reign was at an end, and that now the rights and privileges of the people were to be scrupulously observed. At the entr6e of Isabeau de Bavi~,re, wife of the unfortunate Charles VI. a cord was stretched from one of the towers of the church of Notre Dame, to a house upon this bridge. A Genoese danced along this cord, holding a lighted flambeaux in each hand, descended to the bridge, and placing a crown upon the head of the queen, turned and re-ascended to the tower. As night had already set in, adds the an- cient chronicle which records this wonderful feat, he was seen by all Paris and the environs. From this same bridge, Louis de Bourdon, the paramour of Isabeau de Bavi~re, was, by order of the king, thrown into the river tied in a sack, upon which was written, Laissez passer lajustice du Roy ; (Let the justice of the king pass free.) We have now crossed the bridge, and stand upon pue of the islands of the Seine. It is the lie du Palais. In the days of the Roman Emperors the shores of this little island were the limits of the city. Both C~esar and Julian mention it by the name of Luteca. Turning to the left we pass down the quai. This little square that now opens to the right is the Place de Grave, the place of public executions, where the axe of the guillotine has spilt the blood of so many thousands. The large edifice which occupies the right side of the square is the celebrated H6tel-de- Ville, so famous in the history of the French Revolution. A short walk farther along the quai brings us out upon the middle of the Pont Neuf, a noble bridge, which, upon twelve massive arches of stone, bestrides the Seine, just where its waters unite at the western extremity of the lie du Palais. The equestrian statue in bronze, which stands in front of us, a little to the left, is Henry IV. erected in 1817. From the little terrace on which it stands we have a fine view down the river. The elegant bridge below us is the Pont des Arts, passing gracefully from pier to pier on light arches of iron. As you perceive, it is reserved for foot passengers. On its right is the Louvre, and on the left the Palais des Beaux-Arts, the Palace of the Fine Arts, where the sessions of the French Institute are held. We have now crossed the bridge and are upon the northern bank of the river. I will take you a few steps down this narrow street in order to point out to you the house in which the Admiral de Coligni was assassinated on the fatal night of Saint Bartholomew. It is the second house on the left. This low portal leads us into the little court-yard. From that window the dead body was thrown out; and on the very spot where we are now standing the infamous Duke of Guise wiped with his handkerchief the blood that disfigured the face of the old man, to satisfy himself that it was Coligni, and then, trampling the lifeless body beneath his feet, cried to them around him, We have made a good beginning; let us go on with our work. Retracing our steps, and taking the dark and narrow lane which lies before us, we soon emerge upon the little square of Saint Ger- nzain-lAuxerrozs. The old Gothic church upon the right is the church of Saint Germain-lAuxerrois, from whose tower the midnight bell gave the fatal signal for the massacre of Saint Bartholomew to commence. Directly in front d us is the magnificent fa~adc and col The Writings of Sir TValter Scott. 13 onnade of the Louvre. The central arch leads into its immense court- yard, and thence you may pass onward through a similar arch into the Place du Carrousel. We will not enter, but turn to the left, and pass on to the Pant des Arts. You see yonder little skifl, that is plying across the stream. This is the scene of the dialogue between Henri IV. and the boatman. Just after the peace of Vervins, the king, re- turning from the chase, clad in a simple garb, and accompanied by one or two gentlemen, crossed the ferry at this place. The king per- ceiving that the boatman did not recognize him, asked him what peo- ple said about the Peace. Faith, replied the boatman, I dont understand what this fine peace is; there is a tax upon every thing even upon this miserable little boat of mine, which hardly gains me a livelihood. But why does not the king regulate all these taxes ? said the monarch. Oh, replied the boatman, the king is a good fellow; but then he has a mistress, who must have so many gowns and baubles !and we poor fellows have to pay for all those things. Passe encore, si elle n etait qu d mi; mais on dit qu elle se fait caresser par bien d autres I This conversation so amused the king, that the next morning he sent for the boatman and made him repeat the whole in the presence of the fair Gabrielle dEstr~es, Duchess of Beaufort, who, enraged at the boatmans audacity, wished to have him hung. But the king said to her, You are beside your- self; this is a poor devil, whom misery has made ill-humored. He shall no longer pay a tax upon his boat, and I am sure he will always sing Vive henri, vice Gabrielle. But I see you are already fatigued. Yet a few moments patience, and we shall be in the garden of the Tuileries, where we can repose and refresh ourselves. Passing along the river-front of the Louvre and the Tuileries, a turn to the right, through this iron gate-way, brings us into the justly celebrated garden. Without stopping to observe the statues or the flower-plots, which adorn the parterre, let us pass diag- onally across these fine avenues and enter yonder little pavilion be- neath the terrace. There will we breakfast, for hark ! the palace clock is just striking ten. THE WRITINGS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE great variety of writers of the present day may be divided into two classes; those who appeal to the passions, and those who address themselves to the understanding. Of these, the former, and particu- larly the writers of poetry and fiction, possess, on many accounts, the advantage. There are certain springs in our natures, hidden, incom- prehensible, which require but the touch of a master to call them into immediate action. Among these, there is, perhaps, no one more dis- tinguished than the love of novelty. In the infant and the man of gray hairs, in the joyous gaiety of youth and amidst the bustling cares of manhood, in the sunshine of prosperity aud the gloom of adversity, you will find it the same absorbing passion. Its endless varieties in- trude from the dignified inquiries of the philosopher exploring the

C. S. M. M., C. S. The Writings of Sir Walter Scott Original Papers 13-16

The Writings of Sir TValter Scott. 13 onnade of the Louvre. The central arch leads into its immense court- yard, and thence you may pass onward through a similar arch into the Place du Carrousel. We will not enter, but turn to the left, and pass on to the Pant des Arts. You see yonder little skifl, that is plying across the stream. This is the scene of the dialogue between Henri IV. and the boatman. Just after the peace of Vervins, the king, re- turning from the chase, clad in a simple garb, and accompanied by one or two gentlemen, crossed the ferry at this place. The king per- ceiving that the boatman did not recognize him, asked him what peo- ple said about the Peace. Faith, replied the boatman, I dont understand what this fine peace is; there is a tax upon every thing even upon this miserable little boat of mine, which hardly gains me a livelihood. But why does not the king regulate all these taxes ? said the monarch. Oh, replied the boatman, the king is a good fellow; but then he has a mistress, who must have so many gowns and baubles !and we poor fellows have to pay for all those things. Passe encore, si elle n etait qu d mi; mais on dit qu elle se fait caresser par bien d autres I This conversation so amused the king, that the next morning he sent for the boatman and made him repeat the whole in the presence of the fair Gabrielle dEstr~es, Duchess of Beaufort, who, enraged at the boatmans audacity, wished to have him hung. But the king said to her, You are beside your- self; this is a poor devil, whom misery has made ill-humored. He shall no longer pay a tax upon his boat, and I am sure he will always sing Vive henri, vice Gabrielle. But I see you are already fatigued. Yet a few moments patience, and we shall be in the garden of the Tuileries, where we can repose and refresh ourselves. Passing along the river-front of the Louvre and the Tuileries, a turn to the right, through this iron gate-way, brings us into the justly celebrated garden. Without stopping to observe the statues or the flower-plots, which adorn the parterre, let us pass diag- onally across these fine avenues and enter yonder little pavilion be- neath the terrace. There will we breakfast, for hark ! the palace clock is just striking ten. THE WRITINGS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. THE great variety of writers of the present day may be divided into two classes; those who appeal to the passions, and those who address themselves to the understanding. Of these, the former, and particu- larly the writers of poetry and fiction, possess, on many accounts, the advantage. There are certain springs in our natures, hidden, incom- prehensible, which require but the touch of a master to call them into immediate action. Among these, there is, perhaps, no one more dis- tinguished than the love of novelty. In the infant and the man of gray hairs, in the joyous gaiety of youth and amidst the bustling cares of manhood, in the sunshine of prosperity aud the gloom of adversity, you will find it the same absorbing passion. Its endless varieties in- trude from the dignified inquiries of the philosopher exploring the 14 The Writings of Sir Walter Scott. secrets of nature, to the romantic curiosity of the novel-reader, turning from the sober occurrences of real life to pore over the high-wrought tale of imaginary distress. It is this which has lent to the chivalrous romances of the Troubadours and Proven9als their witchery; and which has thrown its charm over the glowing inspiration of the gifted Croly. Among these writers the name of Sir Walter Scott stands proudly pre-eminen{. He is one of those master spirits which exercise an un- controlable ~tscendancy over the minds of men; a being, moving and mingling among them like the cloud-enveloped LEneas, while sur- rounded by the immateriality of a world of his own creation. His poetry is marked by originality, and is altogether sui generis. It is not characterized by the pathos and sublimity of Milton, nor yet by the deep-burning thoughts of Byron, nor by the inimitable tenderness of Burns, nor by the palling voluptuousness of Moore. It is wild and picturesque as the scenery of his native mountains,harmony blended with strength. It is a living portraiture of the glories of ancient chivalry, when the hoary-headed minstrel chanted at the fes- tive board the valor of the warrior and the charms of his ladyc love ; and the shrill-sounding pibroch rallied each warlike clan around the standard of its feudal lord. In describing these scenes his song partakes of the wild imagery and soul-kindling poetry of the ancient scald, with its uncouth asperities softened down to modern taste. His poetry reminds us of a superb but fantastic edifice, in which the strength and massive beauty of the Gothic style is tastefully blended with the lighter and more graceful charms of the Corinthian. Not that the workings of his genius are mechanical, or shackled by the common-place thoughts of a secondary writer; it is unfettered as the mountain eagle, stooping from her eyry among the crags only to rise to a more daring flight. He is the mighty magician who trans- ports us by his wand to a land of which none but poets ever dreamed, and exhibits to us the dim forms of old, shadowed through the obscurity of the past. We imagine we can behold in his seclusion at Abbots- ford the scene in which The poets eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Glances from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poets pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. But it is in his fictitious prose writings that the astonishing powers of his genius are more fully developed. From him may justly be dated the commencement of a new era in this department of literature. The days are gone by, of the genii and demons of Arabian fiction, of the wild absurdities which called forth the keen satire of a Cervantes, of the mysterious horrors and infernal machinery of Mrs. Radcliffe, and of the ridiculous distortions of the old school of novelists, whose heroes seem as gods come down to us in the likenesses of men. His characters are drawn from real life, from a keen scrutinizing observa- tion of mankind; and you may find their living prototypes in all ages and conditions, from the proud royalty of England and the miserable pageantry of a petty prince of Dahomey, to the wandering gaberlunzie The Writings of Sir Walter Scott. 15 of Scotland, the tattered lazzaroni of Italy, and the sun-burnt gipsey of Austria. He has made deep and laborious researches into history, into the chronicles of long-forgotten dynasties, and the capacious re- cesses of his mind are the archives of Europe. Nor with the super- ficial eye of a casual observer has he regarded the present generation. He has made mankind the study of his life. He possesses a univer- sality of genius, capable of attempting any thing in this department; and this unbounded knowledge secures its accomplishment. Under the power of his creative imagination, history itself is transformed to romance; its mighty events in his hands become the scenes of a great drama, of which even the subaltern characters are drawn with the most surprising accuracy. He has embellished the sober detail of events with the charms of fiction. In the haughty, overbearing aristo- crat, and the stern, unyielding republican; in the subtle courtier full of chicanery and intrigue, and the free open-hearted warrior; in the infuriated zealot, the bigoted Papist, and the cold-hearted infidel; in the chimeras of the alchymist, and the charlatanry of the juggler, he has drawn vivid portraitures of distinguished historical personages. The hardened ferocity of the ruffian, the dogged obstinacy of the man of guilt, the listless apathy of idiocy, the counterfeited stupidity of cunning, the keen glance of intelligence, all passions of all men, he has read and portrayed them all with the hand of a master. He transports us, on a wing that never tires, through the rugged fastnesses of the Highlands and the spice-bearing groves of India, through the merry inn, the gorgeous palace, the mouldering tower and donjon keep, and the long antiquated hall with its rustling tapestry and colored, lanceolated windows, the gloomy cathedral and the gloomier convent, and exhibits to us the long trains of lords and vassals, kings, queens and knights, with their appropriate character and costume, till we are involved in a bewildered maze. His is the graphic pen to portray the sublime and the beautiful of nature, the glories of the day-dawn and the sombre beauty of evening, with its deep stillness broken only by the low moanings of affliction, or the wild warblings of the love-loin maniac, or ever and anon by fitful peals from the losal song of the bandit at his midnight carousal. But after all it may reasonably be asked, Of what serious benefit have these writings been to mankind? They may, indeed, have no very im- moral tendency, no sly insinuation of poisonous principles. His aim seems to have been to hold as it were the mirror up to Nature, to shew Virtue her own image, Scorn her own likeness, and to exhibit base-born profligacy and vice in their naked deformity. But what have doughty champions and weird beldames to do with the sober realites of life, or this working up of the passions with the prize of the high calling of our existence? It is to the mind what a stimulation of an- imal spirits is to the body,a momentary gratification, an unnatural excitement, which leaves it impotent, exhausted, and unfitted for manly effort. It is also followed by that diseased craving after novelty which, like the perpetual longing of the wretched victim of his appetite, is sat- isfied only with the cause of his ruin. Nor is it upon the elder part of the present generation that the deleterious influence is chiefly exerted; it is the young, and particularly the student, who are most endangered by the fatal fascination. How many a romantic young man, as he un- 16 Tue Farewell. gered to cast a last glance on the walls of his Alma Mater, has seers the brightest visions of the past darkened by the shade of many a mis- spent hour as it flitted palpably before him, hours, which this magical writer has stolen from Homer, from Demosthenes, from Quin- tillian and from Euclid, and which have rendered a midnight vigil over the sober page of Enfield and of Paley a vexation and a weariness. It is often a matter of great difficulty with the literary tyro to restrict himself to that modicum of light reading, which may serve as a health- ful relaxati9n to the mind in its tension over the more severe studies; and it is with this view that the rigid disciplinarian has prohibited all works of fiction with a sweeping denunciation. There is no denying7 that, to the natural man, a page of Ivanhoe affords more entertainment than a page of the Calculus. The extreme lies on either hand; and has not he a vitiated taste, who buries himself forever in the n~ore ab- struse studies in which scarcely one in a thousand shall ever follow him, and whose profound researches have little more intrinsic value than those of the ancient aichymist? Such an one delves, like the blind mole, with no eye for the beautiful and the sublime, and, as a pre- paratory step, divests himself of all communion with the belle lettres at once. We. are to be amused as well as instructed, and works of the imagination will be read while there are listless hours of a long sum- mers afternoon, or the solitary companionship of books of a blustering winters s eve. The successful author is assimilated with his readers by no ordinary tie, and those, who have accompanied the writer of the Waverly Novels from the threshold of his literary career to the scene of his last labors, will pray for a renewal of the veteran pilgrims age during his sojourn in the land of the olive and. the vine. C. S. M. THE FAREWELL. FAREWELL! and if ever unbidden shall start One thought to awake the remembrance of me, Dismiss it, false maiden, at once from thy heart, As freely as mine does its passion for thee. I do not upbraid thee, I breathe no regret, I scorn that a tear.drop~ should blister my line ; I can truly forgive, and I gladly forget That the love I recall for a moment was thine. To the eye there are fruits that are goodly, indeed, But ashes and hitterness lurk at the core; And he, who has leaned on a treacherous reed., That has broken or pierced him, should trust it no more~ At Fashions cold altar I bend not the knee, My spirit must bow at a holier shrine; Yield thou, if thou wilt, to her hollow decree,. And the sacred delights of affection resign. I shall envy no rival the prize he may gain ; The many-hued bow is t~ransportingly fair; But he who pursues it will find to his pain, lie has worshiped a cloud and grasped nothing but air~

The Farewell Original Papers 16-17

16 Tue Farewell. gered to cast a last glance on the walls of his Alma Mater, has seers the brightest visions of the past darkened by the shade of many a mis- spent hour as it flitted palpably before him, hours, which this magical writer has stolen from Homer, from Demosthenes, from Quin- tillian and from Euclid, and which have rendered a midnight vigil over the sober page of Enfield and of Paley a vexation and a weariness. It is often a matter of great difficulty with the literary tyro to restrict himself to that modicum of light reading, which may serve as a health- ful relaxati9n to the mind in its tension over the more severe studies; and it is with this view that the rigid disciplinarian has prohibited all works of fiction with a sweeping denunciation. There is no denying7 that, to the natural man, a page of Ivanhoe affords more entertainment than a page of the Calculus. The extreme lies on either hand; and has not he a vitiated taste, who buries himself forever in the n~ore ab- struse studies in which scarcely one in a thousand shall ever follow him, and whose profound researches have little more intrinsic value than those of the ancient aichymist? Such an one delves, like the blind mole, with no eye for the beautiful and the sublime, and, as a pre- paratory step, divests himself of all communion with the belle lettres at once. We. are to be amused as well as instructed, and works of the imagination will be read while there are listless hours of a long sum- mers afternoon, or the solitary companionship of books of a blustering winters s eve. The successful author is assimilated with his readers by no ordinary tie, and those, who have accompanied the writer of the Waverly Novels from the threshold of his literary career to the scene of his last labors, will pray for a renewal of the veteran pilgrims age during his sojourn in the land of the olive and. the vine. C. S. M. THE FAREWELL. FAREWELL! and if ever unbidden shall start One thought to awake the remembrance of me, Dismiss it, false maiden, at once from thy heart, As freely as mine does its passion for thee. I do not upbraid thee, I breathe no regret, I scorn that a tear.drop~ should blister my line ; I can truly forgive, and I gladly forget That the love I recall for a moment was thine. To the eye there are fruits that are goodly, indeed, But ashes and hitterness lurk at the core; And he, who has leaned on a treacherous reed., That has broken or pierced him, should trust it no more~ At Fashions cold altar I bend not the knee, My spirit must bow at a holier shrine; Yield thou, if thou wilt, to her hollow decree,. And the sacred delights of affection resign. I shall envy no rival the prize he may gain ; The many-hued bow is t~ransportingly fair; But he who pursues it will find to his pain, lie has worshiped a cloud and grasped nothing but air~ l OUR VILLAGE POET. OUR village is the very place where the muse of lyric poetry should take up her abode ;it is so quiet and green. The natives believe there is not so lonely a spot under the blue heavens; but strangers say, there is nothing particularly beautiful in the town, excepting, always, the graceful rounding of the hills, and the easy meandering of its little river. The poetry, inspired by our verdant scenery, is full of a serene and affectionate spirit. We have no rushing cataracts, sky- wrapped mountains, gloomy caverns, and sea-beaten cliffs, to awaken bold and startling thoughts. Byrons muse would have died of inani- tion if she had been exiled to our village. Most of our school-girls were scribblers. Our very best poet was Donald McAllister, one of our school-boys, who perished among the coral rocks in Madagascar seas. There was one remarkably dull boy in our parish. His parents died when he was about fourteen years old, leaving him nothing except a small poorly-furnished house and a few ragged books. The boy lived there all alone, gathering for fuel the decayed leaves and branches which were profusely scattered in the forest where his hut was situated, going every day to labor for his bread at Doctor Johnsons farm, and, at his leisure hours, poring over those ancient books. Sometimes a wealthy, generous-minded lady would bestow on him a worn-out coat, after heedfully cutting off the buttons and depositing them in her own work-box, or a hat and shoes, from which parts of the rim and soles had been abstracted. Sometimes he carried about coarse willow baskets which he had made in the long winter evenings by the light of a pitch-pine knot. He was considered dull, because be never played at ball, or hide-and-seek, with other boys. He could not understand a jest, even ~f he was himself the object of it, and, if it was more bluntly repeated, he did not return it, but the tear would glisten in his eyes, which some said, was mighty babyish for a great boy like him. If a school-mate struck him, instead of resenting the affront, he would treat the offender with kindness. A few supposed he was a coward, but a greater number believed it was because the Bible, his chosen book, commanded us not to avenge ourselves, but to return good for evil. He could not have been a coward, for he used to walk through the burying-ground to visit the graves of his parents, every moonlight evening. If he was ever questioned upon any subject, he only replied, No, Yes, or I cant tell; this was the most he was ever heard to say. But, although he was called stupid, he was very amiable, respectful to his superiors, and oblig- ing to all. No one could accuse him of a wicked action, or of neg- lecting to attend church. So he lived until he was eighteen years old, when an event occurred which tended to bring him greatly into notice. There was a pretty girl, named Sarah Cross, who lived about a mile from his cottage, to whom he had been accustomed to carry the first blown roses, and the finest peaches from his little garden. That was all. He never saw her more than twice a year,. excepting at church VOL. III. 3

Everallin Everallin Our Village Poet Original Papers 17-21

l OUR VILLAGE POET. OUR village is the very place where the muse of lyric poetry should take up her abode ;it is so quiet and green. The natives believe there is not so lonely a spot under the blue heavens; but strangers say, there is nothing particularly beautiful in the town, excepting, always, the graceful rounding of the hills, and the easy meandering of its little river. The poetry, inspired by our verdant scenery, is full of a serene and affectionate spirit. We have no rushing cataracts, sky- wrapped mountains, gloomy caverns, and sea-beaten cliffs, to awaken bold and startling thoughts. Byrons muse would have died of inani- tion if she had been exiled to our village. Most of our school-girls were scribblers. Our very best poet was Donald McAllister, one of our school-boys, who perished among the coral rocks in Madagascar seas. There was one remarkably dull boy in our parish. His parents died when he was about fourteen years old, leaving him nothing except a small poorly-furnished house and a few ragged books. The boy lived there all alone, gathering for fuel the decayed leaves and branches which were profusely scattered in the forest where his hut was situated, going every day to labor for his bread at Doctor Johnsons farm, and, at his leisure hours, poring over those ancient books. Sometimes a wealthy, generous-minded lady would bestow on him a worn-out coat, after heedfully cutting off the buttons and depositing them in her own work-box, or a hat and shoes, from which parts of the rim and soles had been abstracted. Sometimes he carried about coarse willow baskets which he had made in the long winter evenings by the light of a pitch-pine knot. He was considered dull, because be never played at ball, or hide-and-seek, with other boys. He could not understand a jest, even ~f he was himself the object of it, and, if it was more bluntly repeated, he did not return it, but the tear would glisten in his eyes, which some said, was mighty babyish for a great boy like him. If a school-mate struck him, instead of resenting the affront, he would treat the offender with kindness. A few supposed he was a coward, but a greater number believed it was because the Bible, his chosen book, commanded us not to avenge ourselves, but to return good for evil. He could not have been a coward, for he used to walk through the burying-ground to visit the graves of his parents, every moonlight evening. If he was ever questioned upon any subject, he only replied, No, Yes, or I cant tell; this was the most he was ever heard to say. But, although he was called stupid, he was very amiable, respectful to his superiors, and oblig- ing to all. No one could accuse him of a wicked action, or of neg- lecting to attend church. So he lived until he was eighteen years old, when an event occurred which tended to bring him greatly into notice. There was a pretty girl, named Sarah Cross, who lived about a mile from his cottage, to whom he had been accustomed to carry the first blown roses, and the finest peaches from his little garden. That was all. He never saw her more than twice a year,. excepting at church VOL. III. 3 18 Our Village Poet. and singing-meetings in the school-house, and never said ten words to her in his life, perhaps. One day she was merrily skipping across the frozen mill-pond, when the ice suddenly gave way, and she sunk under the water. The miller saw her fall in, and came to her assistance, but she was entirely lifeless before he succeeded in getting her out. Many sad lamentations were sent up by old and young, and they were mingled with heart-felt gratitude, for many of the school-children had passed over the pond that very morning in perfect safety. Harry Brown attended her funeral, as all the parish did, and when he came to look at the corpse, he burst into tears, and sobbed aloud. From this time there was a visible change in his appearance. He was not so steady at his work as usual. He visited the burying-ground, morning and night, and planted a willow over Sarahs grave, where he used to sit reading his old books. He was always moving his lips as if whispering, besides which he purchased, at the store, quill after quill, and sheet after sheet of paper, until all were in the fidgets to know what he could find to do with it. At last it came out. He was turn- ing poet. The first poem he wrote was a lament for Sarah Cross, a most heart- melting thing. The next was an elegy for Tim Jeremys little girl. It also contained a notice of the kindness of Eleanor Wakefield, now Mrs. George Graves, who used to watch by its sick cradle. It was very much admired by Eleanor, to whom it was first shown. She handed it about to every body, and every body praised it and begged a copy. The third was on the death of Mrs. Deacon Haskell, who was beloved by every one for her benevolence and piety. And, as Ensign Jewett observed, now he had once set a-going, there was no stopping him. He expatiated in rhyme upon the stars, the pretty girls, the trees and birds, night and morning, the meeting-house, and all nature besidesgenerously enriching his poems with apposite quo- tations from Milton, Shakspeare, Homer and Virgil. A spirit of hum- ble devotion to God, and sincere love to man, were diffused in all his writings. The lines were usually a little irregular, and the style some- times rough. He had never conversed, and was only beginning to write, consequently he found himself greatly in want of words. He applied to his dictionary, which, indeed, furnished him with an abund- ance, but unfortunately he often selected those which were obsolete or unusual. Oar minister, however, took occasion to hand him some well-written modern works, the style of which he seemed greatly to admire and endeavored to imitate. What a change had taken place in this young mans prospects within a year! From a lonely, retiring boy, he had suddenly shot up into a mana poetall in a moment. He bethought himself that his costume was not quite befitting his new character, and forthwith he diligently went to work for Deacon Haskell until his means were sufficient to procure himself a complete suit of iron-gray, with a scarlet-and-green plaid cloak. When he came out, he was quite a noticeable figure in our singing-seats. He was elegantly tall and slender. His head was covered with heavy, bright- yellow natural curls. His light gray eyes were rather dull, unless he was in a revery, or animated by music, when the pupil of the eye would so dilate, that you would fancy the whole eye was black, and so sparkling one could hardly look at him. T was a pity he could Our Village Poet. 19 not converse. The language of the pen, and the unspeakable elo- quence of the eye, were all he could boast. When Squire Newells eldest daughter, Fanny, died, Harry Brown composed so pathetic an elegy upon her death, that her father gave him a flute, and her brother John offered to teach him to play it. It thrills my heart at this distance of time to remember how meltingly in The summer evening came the notes of Bonnie Doon and Auld Robin Gray across the little river, from the thick forest in which the poets cot was hiddenOh, it was the soul of melodyand the deep quiet of our green valley was in perfect unison with its sweet pensiveness. One Monday morning, Harry, as usual, hung out his iron-grays, and his green-and-scarlet cloak to air, while he was reading his chapter in the Bible. Very few mischievous and light-fingered people are there in our village, but there is no place entirely without them, and when the poet had replaced his Bible upon the shelf, covered his fire, swept the hearth, and gone out to look to his Sunday garment, he dis- covered that the green-and-scarlet cloak had mysteriously disappeared. He went back in great consternation to his arm-chair, and resting his head on his hands, pondered gloomily the abduction of his raiment. It cannot have gone away without help, and therefore somebody must have helped it away, reasoned he; but who? There was no trace of the thief, and the poet would not allow himself to suspect any one of the larceny. One thing I can do, thought he, and after pacing the room awhile, he sat down to write an advertisement directed to the person who took away a green-and-red cloak belonging to Harry Brown. In this document he meekly set forth that the person had injured him without a cause, but he freely forgave him, and would use no means to bring him to justice. He, however, besought him to re- member that he had been guilty of a great sina sin that would shut him out of heaven if he did not repent of itthat he might suddenly die, and find no space for repentance. At any rate, if he should per- sist in the evil course he had begun, it must inevitably bring him to the gallows. He was willing to allow him the use of the cloak until Saturday night, when he begged him to return it, as he could not otherwise attend church. It was winter, and we had then no stoves in our church. One copy of this advertisement, he nailed up on the door of the church, another on the store, and another on the central school-house. All that week, groups of men, or girls, or school-children, might be seen clustered around the notices, and one young man who had been reading them, was seen to retire in evident and irrepressible agita- tion. On Friday evening, the poet heard an inexplicable rustling among the bushes at his door, and, on opening it, he discovered his cloak upon the door-stone. He examined the pocket to see if the hymn-book was gone. It was there, in company with some silver pieces, which the penitent offender had offered as an atonement for his theft. Harry deposited them in the charity-box, as a thank-offering for the restoration of his cloak. This short-lived affliction served, on the whole, to do him good. It reminded him of the necessity of providing for a time of want or of losses, and he became more industrious, and began to lay up a portion f his small earnings. 20 Our Village Poet. How our L~oet, in spite of his rhyming propensities, could fall in love with, and marry plump Patty Gale, and how he managed to court her, with the aid of monosyllables only, was a marvel, passing the ability of our wisest heads to explain. But I had the story in co~jldence from Nancy, Pattys sister, and there was nothing so very remarkable in it, after all. He merely ad- dressed a sonnet to her, as he did to several of us village girls, and we, indeed, thought nothing of it, only that he remembered us kindly; but she (and she was a saucy girl) taking advantage of the affection- ate style of the poem, and her own good graces, (for she was, it must be conceded, extremely pretty-looking, only she was so plump) re- turned him an equally kind answer. There were some sentiments like these at the close of the sonnet Thus, day and night, I sigh and languish, Oh will you not regard my anguish? For you can save me if you will, And make me very happy still. My joy would never, never fail, If I could marry Patty Gale. Patty was quite unable to resist this affecting appeal. The tears rolled down her rosy cheeks while she perused it. She immediately re- turned him an answer, telling him she would be his wife and he might call and see her the next evening. She was sorry he had suf- fered so much on her account; but she could not blame herself, as she did not know of it before. It is a matter of some doubt whether Harry expected or even desir- ed any reply, least of all such a reply as this; but he visited her, and although the conversation was carried on pretty much without his aid, it was fully settled, with the consent of her parents, that they should marry next autumn. But in the autumn, her father was very ill, and therefore the wedding was deferred to winter, when the sleigh-bells rang a loud and merry peal as the long procession moved rapidly by in its way to Harry Browns cottage in the wood. You would hardly have recognized that old cottageit was so nicely painted and white- washed; for though Henry was poor, Capt. Gale was rich, and gener- ous, too, and it gave him sincere pleasure to contribute to his chil- drens comfort. Henry Brown has learned to talk and laugh, but he has forgotten his muse, his reveries, and his moonlight wanderings in the church- yard. With his marriage commenced the decline of poetry in our village, and we have not at present a solitary scribbler of rhyme among us. The river winds as calmly as ever. The green hills slope as graceful- ly, and the wild-birds carol as sweetly, but there is no minstrel to spread their praises in immortal song. If any stranger should have the curiosity to visit the poets birth- place, let him ride up the Shanobie road, (it is a very smooth, shady road, and not much out of the way) until he comes to the walnut wood, and, closely embowered by those heavy old trees, he may discover a little one-sided yellow cottage, with plenty of red and white rose- bushes and tall sun-flowers in front with glittering rows of tin milk- pans under the windows. It would afford him but little pleasure to Ugly Reflections. 21 look into the dwelling. He would only find a merry yellow-haired man and a plump black-eyed woman, and some half a dozen rosy romps of children. Abundance of good-nature is there, and health and industry, but the genius of romance and the spirit of poetry, long since unfolded their bright wings and flew away together. EVERALLIN. UGLY REFLECTIONS. 0 vnxnn are times When all this fret and tumult that we hear Seemeth inure stale than to the sextons ear His own dull chimes. Ding dong! ding dong! The workl is in a simmer like a sea Over a peat volcanowo is me All the day long. From crib to shroud, Nurse oer our cradles screameth lullaby, And friends in boots tramp round us as we die, Snuffling aloud. At mornings call The blear.eyed pug~dog welcomes in the sun, And flea.bit mongrels, wakening one by one, Give answer all. When evening dim Draws round us, then the lonely caterwaul, Tart solo, sour duet, and general squall These are our hymn. Women, with tongues Like polar needles, ever on the jar.~ Men, plugless stopcocks, whose deep fountains are Within their lungs. Children, with drums Strapped round them by the fond paternal ass, Peripatetics with a blade of grass Between their thumbs. Vagrants, whose arts Have caged some devil in their mad machine, Which grinding, squeaks, with husky groans between, Come out by starts. Cockneys that kill Thin horses of a Sundaymen, with clams, Hoarse as young bisons roaring for their dams, From hill to hill. Soldiers, with guns Making a nuisance of the blessed air, Promising youth and Patriots worse for wear, Punsters with puns! Storms, thunders, waves! Howl, crash, and bellow, for ye needs must roar Death, hug thy minions close, or men will snore Even in their graves! 0. W. H.

O. W. H. H., O. W. Ugly Reflections Original Papers 21-22

Ugly Reflections. 21 look into the dwelling. He would only find a merry yellow-haired man and a plump black-eyed woman, and some half a dozen rosy romps of children. Abundance of good-nature is there, and health and industry, but the genius of romance and the spirit of poetry, long since unfolded their bright wings and flew away together. EVERALLIN. UGLY REFLECTIONS. 0 vnxnn are times When all this fret and tumult that we hear Seemeth inure stale than to the sextons ear His own dull chimes. Ding dong! ding dong! The workl is in a simmer like a sea Over a peat volcanowo is me All the day long. From crib to shroud, Nurse oer our cradles screameth lullaby, And friends in boots tramp round us as we die, Snuffling aloud. At mornings call The blear.eyed pug~dog welcomes in the sun, And flea.bit mongrels, wakening one by one, Give answer all. When evening dim Draws round us, then the lonely caterwaul, Tart solo, sour duet, and general squall These are our hymn. Women, with tongues Like polar needles, ever on the jar.~ Men, plugless stopcocks, whose deep fountains are Within their lungs. Children, with drums Strapped round them by the fond paternal ass, Peripatetics with a blade of grass Between their thumbs. Vagrants, whose arts Have caged some devil in their mad machine, Which grinding, squeaks, with husky groans between, Come out by starts. Cockneys that kill Thin horses of a Sundaymen, with clams, Hoarse as young bisons roaring for their dams, From hill to hill. Soldiers, with guns Making a nuisance of the blessed air, Promising youth and Patriots worse for wear, Punsters with puns! Storms, thunders, waves! Howl, crash, and bellow, for ye needs must roar Death, hug thy minions close, or men will snore Even in their graves! 0. W. H. 22 LIFE BEYOND THE FRONTIER. PImHAPS some of our readers may have seen Carvers or School- crafts Travels. If they have, it may be that they know, albeit neither of the books is worth a brass pin as authority, that the Chippewa and Dahcotah tribes have waged war against each other so long that the origin of their hostility is beyond the ken of man. General Pike per- suaded them to make peace in 1800, but it lasted only till his back was turned. The agents for the government have brought about sev- eral treaties between the tribes, in ~vhich forgiveness, and friendship for the future, were solemnly promised. Indian hereditary hate is stronger than Indian faith, and these bargains were always violated as soon as opportunity occurred. Nevertheless, our executive gave orders, in 182, that a general congress of all the belligerent tribes on the frontier should be held at Prairie du Chien. They flocked to the treaty ground from all quarters, to see the sovereignty or majesty (we know not which is the better word,) of the United States, ably repre- sented by Governors Cass and Clark, who acted as commissioners. The policy of the United States on this occasion was founded on an error. It supposed that the quarrels of the Indians were occasioned by a dispute concerning the boundaries of their respective territories. Never was a treaty followed by more unhappy results, at least as far as it concerned the Dahcotahs. They concurred in the arrangement of their boundaries proposed by the commissioners, as they do in every measure proposed by an American officer, thinking that compulsion would otherwise be used. But they were not satisfied, nor had they reason to be, for their ancient limits were grievously abridged. All the Indians present had, or im- agined they had, another cause of complaint. They had been supplied with food, while the congress lasted, by the United States, as was the reasonable practice, for they cannot hunt and make treaties at one and the same time. Dysentery supervened on the change of diet. Some died on the ground, and a great many perished on the way from Prairie du Chien to their hunting grounds. Always suspicious of the whites, they supposed that their food had been poisoned; the arguments of their traders could not convince them of the contrary, and hundreds will die in that belief. Moreover, they did not receive such presents as the British agents had been wont to bestow on them, and they complained that such stinginess was beneath the dignity of a great people, and that it also showed a manifest disregard of their necessities. They were especially indignant at being stinted in whisky. It behooved the commissioners, indeed, to avoid the appearance of effecting any measure by bribery, but the barbarians did not view the matter in that light. To show them that the liquor was not withheld on account of its value, two barrels were brought upon the ground. Each dusky countenance was instantly illuminated with joy at the agreeable prospect, but they were to learn that there is sometimes a slip between the cup and the lip. Each lower jaw dropped at least six inches when one of the commis- sioners staved in the heads of the casks with an axe. It was a pity, said old Wakhpakootay, speaking of the occurrence, it ~vas a great

Life beyond the Frontier Original Papers 22-33

22 LIFE BEYOND THE FRONTIER. PImHAPS some of our readers may have seen Carvers or School- crafts Travels. If they have, it may be that they know, albeit neither of the books is worth a brass pin as authority, that the Chippewa and Dahcotah tribes have waged war against each other so long that the origin of their hostility is beyond the ken of man. General Pike per- suaded them to make peace in 1800, but it lasted only till his back was turned. The agents for the government have brought about sev- eral treaties between the tribes, in ~vhich forgiveness, and friendship for the future, were solemnly promised. Indian hereditary hate is stronger than Indian faith, and these bargains were always violated as soon as opportunity occurred. Nevertheless, our executive gave orders, in 182, that a general congress of all the belligerent tribes on the frontier should be held at Prairie du Chien. They flocked to the treaty ground from all quarters, to see the sovereignty or majesty (we know not which is the better word,) of the United States, ably repre- sented by Governors Cass and Clark, who acted as commissioners. The policy of the United States on this occasion was founded on an error. It supposed that the quarrels of the Indians were occasioned by a dispute concerning the boundaries of their respective territories. Never was a treaty followed by more unhappy results, at least as far as it concerned the Dahcotahs. They concurred in the arrangement of their boundaries proposed by the commissioners, as they do in every measure proposed by an American officer, thinking that compulsion would otherwise be used. But they were not satisfied, nor had they reason to be, for their ancient limits were grievously abridged. All the Indians present had, or im- agined they had, another cause of complaint. They had been supplied with food, while the congress lasted, by the United States, as was the reasonable practice, for they cannot hunt and make treaties at one and the same time. Dysentery supervened on the change of diet. Some died on the ground, and a great many perished on the way from Prairie du Chien to their hunting grounds. Always suspicious of the whites, they supposed that their food had been poisoned; the arguments of their traders could not convince them of the contrary, and hundreds will die in that belief. Moreover, they did not receive such presents as the British agents had been wont to bestow on them, and they complained that such stinginess was beneath the dignity of a great people, and that it also showed a manifest disregard of their necessities. They were especially indignant at being stinted in whisky. It behooved the commissioners, indeed, to avoid the appearance of effecting any measure by bribery, but the barbarians did not view the matter in that light. To show them that the liquor was not withheld on account of its value, two barrels were brought upon the ground. Each dusky countenance was instantly illuminated with joy at the agreeable prospect, but they were to learn that there is sometimes a slip between the cup and the lip. Each lower jaw dropped at least six inches when one of the commis- sioners staved in the heads of the casks with an axe. It was a pity, said old Wakhpakootay, speaking of the occurrence, it ~vas a great Life be3~ond the Frontier. 23 pity! There was enough of it to have kept me drunk all the days of my life~ Wakhpakootays only feelings were grief and astonishment, but most of his fellows thought that this making a promise to the eye in order to break it to the sense was a grievous insult, and so they continue to regard it to this day. The next year a small party of Chippewas came to St. Peters, (about which there are four Dahcotah villages) on pretence of business with their father, the agent, but in reality to beg ammunition, clothing, and, above all, strong drink. The Dahcotahs soon gathered about the place with frowns on their faces and guns in their hands. Neverthe- less, three of the Chippeways ventured to visit the Columbian Fur Companys trading house, two miles froiui the fort. While there, they became aware of their danger, and desired two of the white men at- tached to the establishment to accompany them back, thinking that their presence might be some protection. They were in error. As they passed a little coppice, three Dahcotahs sprung from behind a log with the speed of light, fired their pieces into the face of the foremost, and then fled. The guns must have been double loaded, for the mans head was literally blown from his shoulders, and his white companions were spattered with his brains and blood. The survivors gained the fort without further molestation. Their comrade was buried on the spot where he fell. A staff was set up on his grave, which became a landmark, and received the name of The Murder Pole. The murder- ers boasted of their achievement, and with impunity. They and their tribe thought that they had struck a fair blow on their ancient enemies, in a becoming manner. It was only said, that Toopunkah Zeze of the village of the Batture aux Fi~vres, and two others, had each acquired a right to wear skunk skins on their heels and war-eagles feathers on their heads. A winter passed, and the murdered man was not revenged. In the spring, we had another striking proof of Indian regard to treaty stipu- lations and Indian love for American citizens; and also of the wisdom of the government that had expected to bind them with strips of paper, or parchment. Every one knows that the western-country French peo- ple make maple sugar in the spring. M. Methode, chose to set up his sugar camp at the mouth of Yellow river, two miles from Prairie du Chien. His wife, one of the most beautiful women we ever saw, ac- companied him with her five children. Beside these, the wolves and the trees were his only companions. A week elapsed, and he had not been seen at the Prairie. One of his friends, thinking that he might have been taken ill, and was unable to come for his supplies, resolved to visit his camp. On reaching the mouth of Yellow river the man shouted aloud, that Methode or his dog might answer, and thereby indicate in what exact spot in the woods his cabin stood. No answer was returned. After searching upwards of an hour, and calling till he was hoarse, he fell upon a little path which soon brought him to the ruins of a hnt that appeared to have been recently burned. All was as still as it might have been at the birth of time. Concluding that Methode had burned his camp and gone higher up the river, the honest Canadian turned homeward. He had not gone ten steps when he saw something that made him quicken his pace. It was the body of Methodes dog. The 24 Life beyond tile Frontier. animal had been shot with half a score of balls, and yet held in his dead jaws a mouthful of scarlet cloth, which, apparently, he had torn from an Indian calf. The man ran at full speed to the bank of the river, threw himself into his canoe, and paddled with all his might till he was out of gun shot from the shore. Having made what he had seen public, a party was soon assembled, all good men and true, and well armed. They soon gained the spot, and began to explore the ruins of the hut. The bodies of the whole family were there, and it was evident that accidental fire had not occasioned their death. They were shockingly mangled; Madame Methode in particular. Her husbands hand grasped a bloody knife, from which it was inferred that he had not fallen unavenged. Yet the stains might have come from his own person. When the coroners inquest sat, it appeared that a party of Winne- bagoes had been out, notwithstanding the treaty, against the Chippe- was, and had returned unsuccessful. Fifteen of them had been seen near the Yellow river two days after Methodes departure from the Prairie. It was ascertained that two Winnebagoes had been buried that night. The white party returned to the village; and, the next day, an Indian boy of fourteen admitted that he had seen Methodes camp while hunting, and had communicated his discovery to his companions. To make assurance doubly sure, Wamandoosgara-Ha, an Indian of very bad reputation, made his appearance in the village in a pair of red leggins, one of which had been torn behind. He came to tell the agent, Mr. Boilevin, how much he loved the Americans, and that he strongly suspected the Saques of the murder that had been com- mitted. He demanded a blanket and a bottle of whisky as a re- ward for his zealous friendship. Mr. Boilevin caused the friendly Winnebago to be arrested, and examined him closely. Then the mur- derer called up his Indian spirit, confessed his guilt, and implicated several others. A party of militia forthwith started for the nearest Winnebago camp. We are able to state (and we love to be correct in important particu- lars) that the captain wore neither plume nor sash, nor any thing else that might have made him conspicuous; that the men did not march in the style most approved on Boston common ; that they beat no drum before them; and that none of them had ever seen a sham-fight. No; each marched on his own hook, each carried a good rifle or north- west gun, and each kept his person as much out of sight as possible. The consequence was that the Indian camp was surprised and complete- ly surrounded, and the savages saw that their best, and, indeed, only course, was to surrender quietly. However, the whites found only one of those they sought in the camp, and took him away with them. The celebrated chief Descorrie followed them. Father, said he to Mr. Boilevin, you know that there are fool- ish young men among every people. Those who have done this thing, were foolish young men, over whom I and the other wise men have no control. Besides, when they went to Yellow river, they had just drank the last of a keg which you gave them yourself. It was the whisky, and not they, that killed Methode and abused his wife. Father, I think you should excuse their folly this time, and they will never do the like again. Father, their families are very poor, and if Life beyond the Frontier. 25 you will give them clothing and something to eat, you may be sure that they will never kill another white man.~~ I shall give them nothing, said the agent, and still be sure that they will never kill another man. They will assuredly be hanged. Your heart is very hard, father, replied Descorrie. Your heart is very hard, but I cannot think that it will be as you say. You know that if you take our young mens lives, we cannot prevent others from revenging them. Our warriors have always taken two lives for one. Our Great Father (the president) is not so hard-hearted as you are. Our young men have killed a great many of your people, and he has always forgiven them. At that time, Prairie du Chien had no great reason to boast of her administration of justice. A soldier, indeed, had been scourged at the public whipping post, a man of ninety had been fined for lewdness, an Indian had been kicked out of a wheat-field on which he was trampling, and the magistracy prided themselves not a little on these energetic acts of duty. A jail there was, but it was of wood, and stood so far from the village, that a prisoner might carve the logs at noon-day without much danger of detection. Scandal says, that the jailor was wont to bolt the door of it with a boiled carrot. Into this strong hold the criminals were put at nightthe place did not own a set of fettersand in the morning they were missing. Had they been left to their own devices, there is little doubt that thay would have re- mained to brave their fate, but it is thought that some white man advised them what their exact legal responsibilities were~ and advised them to escape. Coloned Willoughby Morgan commanded the military at Prairie dii Chien. He immediately caused two Winnebago chiefs to be seized, and informed the tribe that they would not be liberated till the mur- derers were delivered up. They were soon brought in, and as the civil authority had proved unable to keep them, they were committed to the garrison guard-house. Shortly after the garrison was broken up by order of the secretary of war, and the troops were removed to St. Peters, two hundred miles farther up. There was no appearance of the district judge who was to try the prisoners, and they wete there- fore transferred to St. Peters, there to await his coming. They had long to wait; so long, indeed, that they grew excessively obese and phlegmatic. In the following autumn another party of Chippewas came to St. Peters, and as they remembered what had happened the year before, they took care to arrive just at day-break and proceeded directly to the fort. There were twenty-four persons in the band, eight of whom were warriors; the rest were women and children. Their chief was Kweeweezaizhish, or the Flat Mouth, the great man of the Sandy Lake Chippewas. He led his little troop straight to the fort, where he unfurled and planted an American flag, and then demanded an interview with the agent and commanding officers. The I)ahcotahs soon learned what was passing, and by the time the gates were opened a considerable number of them had assembled to gaze upon the enemy. Presently the officers came forth, and de- sired the visiters to enter. Be not angry, father, replied the Flat Mouth, but I would rather say something here, before I enter your VOL. in. 4 26 Life 1~eyond the Frontier. wigwam or eat your bread. I desire that these Nahtooessies (enemies) should hear it. The colonel sent for the Chippewa interpreter, and when he had come, desired the chief to say on. Father, said the chief, you know that more than a year since, we made peace with your Nahtooessie children, because you desired us. We have kept the peace and listened to your advice, as we always do, for our American fathers are wise men and advise us for our good. These men know whether they have done so or not. I speak with a sick heart. We are but few here, and these men will not keep the peace with us. We ask ~you to protect us, as we would pro- tect you, if you should come into our country. The Colonel replied that he could have no concern with the quar- rels or wars of the Dahcotahs and Chippewas. If they fought any where else, he could not help it; but while they remained under his flag they should not be molested, provided they did not molest others. He bade them pitch their lodges on a spot within musket shot of the walls, and there, he said and thought, they would he safe. He would make their cause his own if any harm should come to them there. This speech being expounded to the Dahcotahs, they all ex- claimed, Hachee! hachee! hacheetoo ! i. e. that is it! that is right. The Flat Mouth then entered the fort and partook of American hospitality. He then explained the object of his visit. It was the old story, repeated the thousandth time. They were very poor; they had left their friends at home with heavy hearts, and hoped that their father would give them something to make them glad. In short, the endless catalogue of Indian wants was summed by a humble peti- tion for a little of their fathers milk (whisky) to make them cry for certain friends they had lost. This shameless beggary should not be taken as a proof of want of spirit. The main point in their political code is equality of property; he that has two shirts thinks it a duty to give one to him who has none. He who has none, thinks it no shame to ask one of him who has two. The effect of this system is, that they are always in want of every thing, and the application of their own principle of action to their ~vhite neighbors makes their company excessively troublesome. It is true that they are willing to reciprocate, as far as lies in their power, but then they never have any thing to give. On the occasion in question our Chippewa friends got, if not all they asked, yet more than they had expected. Then after having entertained the garrison with the buffalo dance, they left the fort and set up their lodges as they had been directed. In the afternoon Toopunkah Zeze arrived from the Batture aux Ffr~vres, with seven of his own band and one other. They went di- rectly to the Chippewa camp and entered the largest lodge, where it happened that there were just nine persons. The young Dahcotah above named held in his hand a pipe, the stem of which was gaily ornamented with porcupines quills and hair stained red. The Chip- pewas spread skins for his party, shook hands with them, invited them courteously to be seated. They also directed the women instantly to prepare a feast of venison, corn, and maple sugar, all of which articles were mixed together and placed before the Dahcotahs in brimming L~fe beyond the Frontier. 27 bowls. When the entertainment was over, Toopunkah Zeze filled the peace-pipe he had brought and passed it round. None rejected it, and all might, therefore, consider themselves pledged to peace, if not to love. The conversation then became general and amicable. The Chippewa women coquetted with the Dahcotah youths, who seemed in no wise disposed to consider them as enemies. No Dahcotah is suffered to wear a war eagles feather in his hair till he has killed his man. Toopunkah Zeze wore one for the Chippewa he had so treacherously slain the year before, as we have already re- lated. One of the fair Chippewas noticed it. You are young to wear that, said she. I shall wear another before I am much older, he replied. Certainly after so much friendly intercourse and so many demon- strations of good will, no one could have suspected any sinister pur- pose. The Chippewas, too, might have relied on their proximity to the fort. But, the heart of man is desperately wicked. The Dah- cotahs had shook hands and smoked the pipe of peace with their for- mer foes, had eaten of their fat and drank of their strong. At last, at sunset, they took their guns and rose to depart. The eight foremost halted outside the door, while the last held it aside with his foot, and all discharged their guns into the lodge, excepting one, whose piece missed fire. The assassins gave the Indian cri dejoi, and fled like deer. The guns were heard in the fort, and the news soon reached the commanding officer, who immediately ordered an officer to proceed to the nearest village with a hundred men, and apprehend as many Dahcotahs as possibly he could. No time was to be lost, for the night was fast coming up the horizon. The Chippewas who had not been hurt joined the party. Circumstances proved favorable to ihe enterprise; just as the party left the gate, upwards of a hundred armed Dahcotahs appeared on a low ridge near the fort. Captain di- vided his force, and despatched one party round a small wood to take the enemy in rear, while he advanced upon them in front. The Dah- cotahs kept their ground firmly. Some covered themselves with the scattered scrub oak trees, others laid down in the long grass. Guns were already cocked when the detached party appeared in their rear. Then the Indians gave way. Most escaped, but thirty were taken and speedily conveyed to the fort, where accommodations were pro- vided for them in the guard-house and the black-hole. The Chippe- was, too, removed their lodges into the fort, and the wounded were carried to the hospital. Eight balls had been fired into the Chippewa lodge, and every one todk effect. The wounds were the most ghastly that we ever saw made by bullets. The party had been lying, or reclining, on their mats; for there is no standing in a Chippewa lodge. Consequently the balls had passed through their limbs and bodies diagonally, tearing and cutting more than it is usual for pieces of lead to do, though as rag- ged as chewing can make them. One woman was killed outright, one man was mortally, and another severely wounded, the latter being shot through both ancle joints and crippled forever. All the rest were women and children., and more or less severely wounded. 28 Life beyond the Frontier. There was weeping and wailing in the Chippewa lodges that night. The noisy lamentations of the women broke the rest of the whole garrison; but no one desired them to be silent, for the rudest soldier there respected the sincerity of their sorrow. Never were Indian knives driven deeper into squaws flesh in token of grief than on that occasion. This practice of mortifying the body, on the death of friends, seems to be, and to have been, common to all rude people. The Jews clothed themselves in sackcloth and threw ashes on their heads; Achilles refused to wash his face till the funereal rites had been per- formed over the body of Patroclus. Now, the male Chippewas black- ened their faces, indeed, but they did not gash their arms. A soldier who spoke their language asked them why they did not conform to the ancient usage of their nation. Perhaps we shall have use for our guns to-morrow, replied the Little Soldier. We must lose no blood, though our hearts bleed, for we must be able to see straight over our gun barrels. The Little Soldier was right in his surmise and precaution. At early day dawn the commanding officer visited the wounded Chippe- was, and asked them if they could recognize any of their aggressors, in case they should appear before them. They replied eagerly in the affirmative. He then asked tbem why they had not been more on their guard. We respected your flag, replied the mortally wounded man, and thought that our enemies would do the same. The colonel then asked whether they had given the Dahcotahs no provocation. None, said the Chippewa, but we endured much. He pre.. sented the peace-pipe which the Dahcotahs had brought with them, and said that the hair with which it was ornamented had belonged to a Chippewa head. We know not how he made the discovery, but it is well known to all who have lived on the frontier, that an Indian, on seeing a scalp, can tell, with unerring certainty, to what tribe it be.. longs. The wounded men were then, with their own joyful consent, placed on litters and borne to the guard-house. The Dahcotah prisoners were paraded before them and they identified two of the number, as having belonged to the band of assassins. I deliver them into your hands, said the Colonel to the Chip- pewa warriors. They have deserved death, and you may inflict it, or not, as you think proper. If you do not, they must be tried by the laws which govern us Americans. I have no power to put them to death. You may let them go, if you please; I wash my hands of the matter. This speech was interpreted faithfully to the Chippewas, but none of them answered. Instead of speaking, they examined the flints and priming of their guns. The Little Soldier drew from be- neath his robe a few fathoms of cord., cut from an elk skin, and pre- sently secured the two criminals, fastening them together by the elbows. It was observed that he drew his knots rather tighter than was absolutely necessary; but no one blamed him. The Dahcotahs were then led forth. As soon as they passed the gate, the Chippewas halted and cocked their guns, for their vengeance was growing impatient~ You must not shoot them under our walls, said one of the officers. Lffe beyond the Frontier. 29 I hope you do not expect us to take them very far, replied a Chippewa. The procession then moved on. One of the Dahcotahs struck up the death song. The other attempted it, but did not succeed; his voice sunk into a quaver of consternation. The Chippewas led them to a rising ground, about two furlongs from the fort, there halted, and bade them run for their lives. They were not slow to obey the man- date, and their executioners gave them thirty yards law. At that dis- tance, six guns were discharged at them, and they fell dead. Instantly the prairie rang with the Chippewa en de joie, and the executioners rushed towards the corpses, with their knives bared, yelling like fiends. Twice and thrice did each plunge his weapon into the bodies of the prostrate foes, and then wipe the blade on his face or blanket. One or two displayed a ferocity which those only who saw, can entirely realise. They drew their reeking knives through their lips, and exclaimed, with a smack, that they had never tasted any thing so good. An enemys blood was better than even fire water. The whole party then spat upon the body of him who had feared his fate, and spurned it with their feet. They had not tasted his blood. It would, they said, have made their hearts weak. To him who had sung his death song, they offered no indignity. On the contrary, they covered him with a new blanket. They then returned to the fort. The colonel met them at the gate. He had prevented all over whom his authority extended from witnessing the scene just described, and had done his best to make the execution the exclusive business of the Chippewas. He now told them that the bodies of the slain must not be suffered to remain upon his land, where the spectacle might grieve the Dahcotahs who were innocent of their crime. The party retired, and proceeded to the slaughter ground. They took the dead Dahco- tahs by the heels, trailed them over the earth to the bluff, and there threw them over a perpendicular precipice a hundred and fifty feet high. The bodies splashed and sunk, and nothing more was ever seen or heard of them. Among the Dahcotahs detained in the guard-house was an old man named Khoya-pa, or the Eagles Head. We knew him wellhe once cheated us out of a considerable amount of merchandize; but it was in the way of trade, all fair, according to Indian ethics, and we bear him no malice. He had not slept during the night, but had tramped up and down the floor, deeply agitated, to the extreme disturbance of the sol- diers. One of those who were put to death, was his nephew. When this young man was designated by the wounded Chippewas as one of the assassins, and led forth to suffer death, his tears flowed; and when he heard the report of the guns which ended him, his emotion became uncontrollable. He immediately sent for the commanding officer. Father, said he, the band of the Batture aux Fi6vres are bad people. They are always getting themselves into trouble, and others are always sure to suffer with them. It was foolish to shoot the Chip.. pewa last year, but they did it, and perhaps one of my grand children will be scalped for it. What they have just done was a folly. They persuaded my nephew to join them, and he is dead. Let them take the consequences of their own act themselves, this time. I know where I can find two more of them, and if you will let me out I will 30 Lffe beyond the Frontier. bring them to you, and you may put them to death, as they deserve, or spare themas you please. if you slay them, I shall be glad; if you let them go, I shall be sorry. They ought not to be suffered to bring the whole nation into disgrace and trouble. If the Colonel lets him out, I wonder when we shall see him again V said one of the guard to another. At the judgement seat, I think, replied the other. The Colonel knew the Dahcotah character better. How long will it be before you return with the man-slayers ? said he to Khoya-pa. By sunset tomorrow night, replied the Eagle Head, I will be before your gate, and if I come alone, you may give my body to the Chippewas. The sun was high in the heavens when the Eagle Head departed, with his gun in his hand and his knife and tomahawk in his belt. It is sixty miles from St. Peters to the Batture aux Fi~ivres, and he ar- rived there early the next morning, having slept an hour or two in the woods near the village. He went straight to the lodge of Sagandoshee, or the Englishman, for so was the father of Toopunkah Zeze named. The family were already awake, and the murderer was relating his exploit with great glee when Khoya-pa entered. You have acted like a dog, said the old man to Toopunkah Zeze. So have you, he added, turning to the other assassin. Some one must die for what you have done, and it will be better that your lives be taken, than that others should die for your folly. There are no worse men than yourselves in our nation. I tell you, you must die. Rise and go with me, like men, or I will kill you like dogs where you sit. So saying, the old man cocked his gun and drew his tomahawk from his belt. The women began to scream and scold; the Englishmans brow grew dark, but no opposition was offered. Perhaps the men were afraid to harm the Eagle Head, for though he was not recognized as a chief, his sons and sons-in-law were many, and his influence was considerable. Any one who should have harmed him would have cer- tainly suffered for it. Besides, his reputation as an upright and valiant man was high; he was tall and erect, and age had not withered his muscles and sinews. Whatever motives might have restrained the families of the criminals from opposing the aged warrior, Toopankah Zeze showed no disposition to disobey him. He rose with the utmost alacrity, handed the Eagle Head a rope, and tendered his arms, to be tied. When he was secured he requested his father to thrust sharp oaken splinters through the muscular parts of his arms, that the Amer- icans might see that he cared not for pain. The Englishmanhis fathercomplied, without uttering a syllable! The other criminal was pale, trembled, and seemed wholly stupified by terror. However, he submitted passively to be tied. Now, said the Eagle Head, startwalk before me, and that briskly, for you must die at the American fort before sunset, and it is a long distance. Just before sunset that day the Colonel and another officer were standing at the gate of the fort. It is late, said the latter, and our old friend does not show himself yet. I do not think he will. He would certainly be a fool to conie back to what he thinks certain dan~ ger; for he had nothing to do with the murder. Life beyond the Frontier. 31 If I had kept him, replied the commanding officer, no good could have come of it. He was innocent, and could not have been convicted, supposing that any of our courts may be competent to try him. I believed that he would keep his word, and bring the real criminals, and I have no doubts about the propriety of the course I shall adopt with them. I trust the Eagle Head yet; and by heaven, he deserves to be trusted! Lookthere he comes, driving the two black sheep before him. Indeed, the old man and his prisoners came in sight at that moment. They soon arrived at the gate. Here they are, father, said the Eagle Head. Take them, and kill them, and if that is not enough for the safety of my people, take my life, too. I throw away my body freely. The white chief told Khoya-pa that he was at liberty from that mo- ment, and made him a liberal present, after which the old man with- drew. A hasty council was then held with the Chippewas, to whom the victims were tendered, as the two first had been. By this time a considerable number of the Dahcotahs had assembled about the prisoners. You must die now, said one man. The white chief has given you to the enemy. I know it, replied Toopunkah Zeze, and I am ready. I shall fall like a man. Bear witness of it. Here, Falling Leaf, take my blanketI shall have no use for it. Take my ear-rings, Gray Woman. He sat down upon the ground, and, with the aid of others, divested himself of his ornaments and apparel, which he distributed to those who stood nighest. His dauntless mein and handsome person made the whites, who looked on, sorry for him. He was in the bloom of youth, not above twenty at most, six feet high, and formed after Na- tures best model. Stain the Belvidere Apollo with walnut juice, and it will be an exact likeness of Toopunkah Zeze. He refused to part with the two eagles feathers. One of them he had not yet worn two days, he said, and he would not part with them. The Chippewas should see that a warrior was about to die. The companion of Toopunkah Zeze followed his example in giving away his clothing, quite mechanically, it seemed. It was evident, though he did not speak, that he was not equal to the circumstances in which he was placed. He was a villainous looking fellow; such a man, indeed, as a despotic sovereign would hang for his countenance. He had the most hideous hare lip that we ever saw, and was thence called by the Dahcotahs, The Split Upper Lip. He was known to most of the white men present as a notorious thief, a character very uncommon among Indian men, though not among Indian women. The Chippewa Chief, Flat Mouth, thus addressed the command- ing officer. Father, we have lost one life, and it is certain that one more will die of his wounds. We have already taken life for life, and it is all that our customs require. Father, do not think that I do not love our people whose blood has been shed. I would fain kill every one of the Nahtooessie tribe to revenge them, but a wise man should be prudent in his revenge. Father, we Sandy Lake Chippewas are a small, a very small band, and we are ill armed. If we provoke the Nahtooessees too far, they will come to our country in a body, and we are not able to resist them. Father, I am a very little, weak chief. (The varlet spoke falsely, for he was the biggest and most corpulent L~fe beyond the Frontier. Indian we ever saw.) Father, we have already had life for life, and I am satisfied. Up started the Little Soldier; fire in his eye. He was properly named, being a very little man, almost a dwarf. Yet he was thick set, active, and muscular, and his spirit was great. Little as he was, he enjoyed the repute of being the bravest and most successful warrior of Sandy Lake. He it was, whose brother had been slain the year before at the Murder Pole. Our father with the Flat Mouth, says that he is satisfied, said the Little Soldier. So am not I. We have had life for life, as he says, but I am not satisfied. This man, (pointing to Toopunkah Zeze) shot my brother last year, and the sun has not yet set twice, since he shot my wife also. This other aided him. They deserve to die, and they shall die. IIoh ! he added to the prisoners, signifying that they must march. Toopunkah Zeze sprung to his feet and began to sing his death song. It was something like the following, many times repeated. I must die, I must die, But willingly I fall. They can take from me but one life; But I have taken two from them. Two for one, two for one, two for one, & c. The Split Lip was wholly unable to imitate his brave companion. He burst into tears, and piteously implored the commanding officer to spare his life. He did not deserve to die, he said, for he was not guilty, lie had killed no onehis gun had missed fire. Here Toopunkah Zeze ceased singing, and indignantly interrupted him. You lie, dog. Coward, old woman, you know that you lie. You know that you are as guilty as I am. Hold your peace, and die like a mandie like me. Then, turning his face away with an ex- pression of exceeding contempt, he recommenced Two for one, two for one and strode forward, dragging the Split Lip after him. Arrived at the place of execution, the Chippewas gave them law, and fired. The Split Lip was shot dead on the spot. Toopunkah Zeze was also stricken through the body, but did not fall. One bullet had cut the rope which bound him to his companion, and he instantly started forward with as good speed as if he had been wholly unhurt. A shout of joy arose from a neighboring coppice, where a few Dahco- tahs had hidden themselves to witness the spectacle. Their joy was of short duration. The Little Soldiers gun had missed fire, but he picked his flint and leveled again. Toopunkah Zeze had gotten a hundred and fifty yards from his foes, when the second bullet struck and killed him instantaneously. After this catastrophe, all the Dahcotahs quitted the vicinity of Fort Snelling, and did not return to it for some months. It.was said that they formed a conspiracy, to demand a council, and kill the Indian Agent and the Commanding Officer. If this was fact, they had no opportunity, or wanted the spirit, to execute their purpose. The Flat Mouths band lingered in the fort till their wounded com- rade died. He was sensible of his condition, and bore his pains with Dramatic Reminiscences. 33 great fortitude. When he felt his end approach, he desired that his horse might be gaily caparisoned, and brought to the hospital window. The request was granted and his couch was wheeled to the window, so that he might touch the animal. He then took from his medicine bag a large cake of maple sugar and held it forth. It may seem strange, but it is true, that the beast ate it from his hand. His features were radiant with delight as he fell back on the pillow exhausted. His horse had eaten the sugar, he said, and he was sure of a favorable reception, and comfortable quarters in the other world. Half an hour after, he breathed his last. We tried to discover the details of his superstition, but could not succeed. It is a subject on which Indians unwillingly discourse. The sequel of this morsel of Indian history, may possibly appear in some future number of this Magazine. DRAMATIC REMINISCENCES. NO. V. FROM July 4, 1794, the play-house remained closed till Dec. 157, when its second season commenced with Shakspeares As you like it, and Rosina. The play was repeated on the succeeding Wednesday, after a prelude, called The Manager in Distress. The company now consisted of C. Powell and wife, S. Powell and wife, Jones and wife, Collins and wife, Hughes and wife, Bartlett, Tay- lor, Kenny, Heely, Hipworth, Villiers, Mrs. Heelyer, (afterwards Mrs. Graupner) Miss Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson) & c. & c. Among these Heely, Hipworth, Taylor, Villiers, Hughes and wife, and Mrs. Heelyer, were ne~v to the town. Taylor came before the audience first in Orlando, in As you like it. He was a great favorite for a considerable time, and might have con- tinued so to the end of his days, but for the sin of intemperance. In the course of this season, Colmans Mountaineers was brought out, and met with a degree of success, which, it is believed, has attended no other play in Boston; and this was owing to the uncommon excellence of Taylor in Octavian. His performance is spoken of at the present day, by those who saw it, as one of the highest exhibitions of dramatic tal- ent. When he returned to Boston, after having spent several years of dissipation and debauchery in a southern climate, his body diseased, his taste depraved, and his understanding besotted, he yet retained some indications of the genius, which had once delighted the audience and commanded the respect of his professional rivals. Ilipworth possessed great versatility of talent: He was respected for his good conduct, both before the ~ublic and in his private life.. One of thc earliest novelties of this season was Cumberlands comedy, f/ic Jew, in which the part of Sheva was allotted to Hipworth, and gained him much popularity. Vapid, in The Dramatist, was another part in which he excelled. There was naturally a kind of sibillation in his utterance, but his industry and skill in declamation so far conquered this defect, that it gave the audience no unpleasant sensation. Cato VOL. in. 5

Dramatic Reminiscences Original Papers 33-40

Dramatic Reminiscences. 33 great fortitude. When he felt his end approach, he desired that his horse might be gaily caparisoned, and brought to the hospital window. The request was granted and his couch was wheeled to the window, so that he might touch the animal. He then took from his medicine bag a large cake of maple sugar and held it forth. It may seem strange, but it is true, that the beast ate it from his hand. His features were radiant with delight as he fell back on the pillow exhausted. His horse had eaten the sugar, he said, and he was sure of a favorable reception, and comfortable quarters in the other world. Half an hour after, he breathed his last. We tried to discover the details of his superstition, but could not succeed. It is a subject on which Indians unwillingly discourse. The sequel of this morsel of Indian history, may possibly appear in some future number of this Magazine. DRAMATIC REMINISCENCES. NO. V. FROM July 4, 1794, the play-house remained closed till Dec. 157, when its second season commenced with Shakspeares As you like it, and Rosina. The play was repeated on the succeeding Wednesday, after a prelude, called The Manager in Distress. The company now consisted of C. Powell and wife, S. Powell and wife, Jones and wife, Collins and wife, Hughes and wife, Bartlett, Tay- lor, Kenny, Heely, Hipworth, Villiers, Mrs. Heelyer, (afterwards Mrs. Graupner) Miss Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson) & c. & c. Among these Heely, Hipworth, Taylor, Villiers, Hughes and wife, and Mrs. Heelyer, were ne~v to the town. Taylor came before the audience first in Orlando, in As you like it. He was a great favorite for a considerable time, and might have con- tinued so to the end of his days, but for the sin of intemperance. In the course of this season, Colmans Mountaineers was brought out, and met with a degree of success, which, it is believed, has attended no other play in Boston; and this was owing to the uncommon excellence of Taylor in Octavian. His performance is spoken of at the present day, by those who saw it, as one of the highest exhibitions of dramatic tal- ent. When he returned to Boston, after having spent several years of dissipation and debauchery in a southern climate, his body diseased, his taste depraved, and his understanding besotted, he yet retained some indications of the genius, which had once delighted the audience and commanded the respect of his professional rivals. Ilipworth possessed great versatility of talent: He was respected for his good conduct, both before the ~ublic and in his private life.. One of thc earliest novelties of this season was Cumberlands comedy, f/ic Jew, in which the part of Sheva was allotted to Hipworth, and gained him much popularity. Vapid, in The Dramatist, was another part in which he excelled. There was naturally a kind of sibillation in his utterance, but his industry and skill in declamation so far conquered this defect, that it gave the audience no unpleasant sensation. Cato VOL. in. 5 34 Dramatic Eeminiscences. was several times performed in the course of this season. Hipworth was dignified and eloquent in the principal character, and gave universal satisfaction. Shylock, Rover, Beverly, (in the Gamester) Petruchio, Jaffier, and Jaques (in As you like it) and numerous other characters of nearly equal importance in the drama, in all of which he was res- pectable, if not excellent, are spoken of as much above the ordinary standard of what is called respectable acting. At the close of the sea- son, he went to Charleston, S. C. with Jones and some other members of the company, where he died of yellow fever shortly after. Jones had been the principal low comedy actor for two seasons, and has never, in that line, been surpassed by any actor on the American stage; he was a great favorite with the audience. There was con- tinual discord between him and the manager; and their quarrels were sometimes obtruded before the public. On one occasion, Jones made an appeal in the newspapers, in which he charged Powell with unjust and oppressive conduct; a determined resolution to crush him; mean artifices of private enmity; overbearing insolence to him and Mrs. Jones, & c. The injustice, to which Jones alludes, was, perhaps, nothing more than the exercise of proper managerial authority, in the distribution of parts, and the general discipline of the stage, which is seldom submit- ted to without grumbling. A circumstance, in which this prevailing disposition appeared very ludicrous, happened this season. Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Hughes both, laid in their claim to the part of Cowslip in the Agreeable Surprise. One evening when it was performed, they both prepared for the character, both came on to the stage at the same in- stant, and each presented her bowl of cream to Lingo. Jones, who was playing the part of the Pedagogue, received the offering from his wife, and the rival Cowslip was obliged to retire from the contest. Jones went to Charleston as acting manager. He visited Boston the succeed- ing summer, and performed a few times in the early part of the au- tumn of 1796; after which he returned to Charleston, and died there, or in the vicinity, of a malignant fever. A Mrs. Spencer, of whom nothing else is now recollected, came out from England near the close of the season, and claimed the approba- tion and patronage of the town, in Belvidera, and two or three other tragedy heroines, but with little success. Collins, whose real name was Phipps, at the close of this season, left New-England, andy it is believed, gave up the profession some years since. His wife was Miss Whitfield, daughter of a very respectable actor of that name at Drury Lane. He died of yellow fever, in New- York. The Medium, or Happy Tea Party, a comedy, written by a citizen of thellinited States, was performed for the first, and only time, on the second of March. It was supported by the principal performers of the company. It was never printed, and no information respecting the authorship or the merits can now 1k obtained. Report attributed it to the reverend John Murray, minister of the Universalist church, but Mr. Murray publicly denied havino had any concern in it.* At the closing of the theatre in the spring of 1795, Powell had be- come bankrupt and was unable to renew his contract with the proprie * columbian centinel, March 4, 1795. Dramatic Reminiscences. 35 tors. The trustees appointed Col. John S. Tyler to succeed him as manager. Tyler engaged a part of Powells company, and made an arrangement with Mr. Hodgkinson, the New-York manager, to bring his company to Boston for a part of the season. Exclusive of the New- York company, Tyler had engaged S. Powell and wife, Harper and wife, Chambers and wife, Hughes and wife, Baker with his wife and daughter, Taylor, Villiers, Kenny, and Mrs. Pick. The company from New-York consisted of Hodgkinson and wife, Hallam and wife, Tyler and wife, Hamilton and wife, Johnson and wife, (then just from England,) Cleveland and wife, King and wife, Martin, (an American) Prigmore, Carr, Hallam, jun. Wools, Ashton, Durang, Mrs. Melmoth, Madame Gardie, Mrs. Brett, Miss Brett, Miss Sully, & c. Under the direction of Tyler and Hodgkinson, (the latter as stage- manager,) the theatre was opened on the 2d of November, with Mur- phys comedy, Know your own Mind. The annals of the Boston theatre cannot exhibit another catalogue of performers so numerous, embodying such an aggregate of talent, and so capable of filling with excellence and respectability every department of the drama. It is worthy of record, that the tragedies of Macbeth and Othello had not been attempted in Boston till this season. Macbeth was first performed on the 31st of December; Macbeth, Mr. Hodgkinson; Lady Macbeth, Mrs. S. Powell. Othello was first represented on the 13th of January, for the benefit of Hallam, senior, and wife; Othello, by Hodgkinson. Among the novelties brought forward were Reynoldss comedy of The Rage, Cumb~rlands Wheel of Fortune, and Holcrofts Deserted Daughter. The part of Joanna in this piece was done by Mrs. John- son,a lady, whose talents as an actress, and amiable qualities in pri- vate life, have been the theme of many a panegyric and many a pleas- ant recollection to her acquaintance. Johnson and his wife remained some years in the New-York~company, and then went to England, where he died. Mrs. Johnson returned 4o America, and died at New- York, in 1821. Hodgkinsons company closed their performances on the 20th of January, and left the town immediately for New-York. The acting management of the theatre devolved on J. B. Williamson, from Covent ~iarden theatre, who opened on the 25th of January, with Othello, the manager personating the Moor. Previous to the tragedy, Harper de- livered an introductory address, written for the occasion. The tragedy was followed by The Spoiled Child; Little Pickle, by Mrs. Williamson. This was her first appearance in America. She was the celebrated Miss Fontenelle, from Covent Garden theatre, the original Moggy MGilpin in OKeefes opera of The Highland Reel. She has never been surpassed in parts of a light and lively cast by any of her suc- cessors. In representations of natural and unaffected simplicity, too, she was admirable. Her Ophelia has been spoken of as fascinating beyond all parallel. Mrs. Arnold, from Covent Garden, made her debut in Rosetta, in Love in a Village. She was the best performer in serious opera that had then appeared in America. Her figure was fine for the stage, her deportment graceful and attractive, her voice exquisitely melodious, her articulation accurate and distinct. She left Boston at the end of 36 Dramatic Reminiscences. the season, for the southern states. It is believed that she died not many years after, in Virginia. Baker and his family returned to the theatre, and played during Williamsons management. Hughes and wife, S. Powell and wife, Harper and wife, Mrs. Arnold, Villiers, Taylor, Hamilton, Chambers, and some others of less note, filled up the company. Williamson was an actor of very considerable powers, both in trag- edy and comedy. He was a scholar, too, of more numerous accom- plishments than a majority of actors can boast. His mind was often employed in composing or altering something, for dramatic representa- tion; and his prologues, epilogues, and other occasional addresses, show that he possessed considerable poetical genius. The following Address was written and recited by him, on the evening of the 22d of February, and made part of a medley, which was got up in honor of the birth-day of Washington. 5HE GENIUS OS COLUMDIA. THROUGH the wide circuit of the posting Sun, With brightening beam, has many a LUSTRE run, Since on the area, Fortunes stars, combined With Glorys constellations, blessed mankind; And Nature, joyous of the Fate& decree, Marked in her calendar this day of glee; A day (kind Heaven) which hailed my favorite son, My loved, my brave, my godlike WASHINGTON. A day like this, Colombians ALL revere, Who hold their country, or their feedom dear; for next the hour! which gave our nation birth, Is that which placed a Washington on earth. Not the famed chief of Israels tribes of yore, More toils encountered, and more perils bore, When he from Egypts proud oppression fled, And through the sea the wandering Hebrews led, Than did your matchless Washington subdue, When he devoted life and fame to you; When, hovering oer, to guard your pilgrim way, By night your pillar, and your cloud by day, He fought your battles, and your counsels blest, Till victorys eagle perched on Freedoms crest. Retired from war, the HERO he resigns; And, called from Vernons groves, the statesman shines. Beneath his sway, may art and science claim The prize of fortune, and the meed of fame; While to Potomacs banks the MU5R5 wing, And in the arbor of his laurels sing By foreign wants and prosperous marts inspired, Industrious ENTERPRIZE my sons have fired; My soil already Europes ports supplies My canvas floats in either Indias skies. From cursed ALdERs, the ransomed prisoner leaps, And low in earth the Indian hatchet sleeps ; While pleased Ouso, as his waters run Through woods, whose tops excluded yester sun, Sees in his stream inverted towns descend, And new-born states along his banks extend. In the drear dungeon, where FAYETTE reclines, This happy hour with least benignance shines My youths warm friend, my sister Gallias pride, To freedoms cause, by principle allied. No lust of gain her generous breast could move, He scorned all trophies, but my peoples love. * Gen. Lafayette was then in the prison of Olnuta. Dramatic Reminiscences. But now, alas! by cruel fetters chained, By friends neglected, and by foes disdained, While oer these realms his grief-swollen eyes are cast, And lingering dwell on scenes he here has passed, His pallid cheek, with fond remembrance, glows, And thaws the tear which cold misfortune froze. Thrice glorious WASHINGTON! thy name shall live, While gratitude can lisp, or fame survive! Wide as thy blessings shall diverge thy praise, And splendid as thy deeds thy glory blaEe; On all alike, thy equal lustre streams, And gilds those clouds, that envy thee thy beams. Though honest zeal my sons to feud betray, No discord eer shall cloud thy natal day; Nor one thin vapor raised by envy, soar, From Hudsons source, to .6lltamahas shore. And oh! just Heaven, who with propitious eyes, Hast seen my empire into being rise, If yet, indulgent to Columbias cause, You geard her union, and protect her laws, Oh! bid, on Times most tardy axle, roll That distant hour, which chills my peoples soul, When every eye, that now in smiles appears, Shall keep this solemn festival in tears. In the couvse of the season a young lady of Boston, made her debut in the character of Julia, in H. Siddonss Sicilian Romance. Her reception was probably not very flattering, as her second and last ap- pearance, in the same part, was announced a few days afterward. Some expectations of her success were, however, indulged by the man- ager, who honored her attempt with the following Prologue, which was spoken by Mrs. Williamson. It is written with more of the gen- uine spirit and style ~of the prologues of the preceding century, than are usually found in the modern prologues of the English stage. OccAsIONAL ~ROLOO~JE. Bless me! what here again? well this is clever; Our lucky barque makes frequent tripsand never Returns to port, unfreighted with your favor! Our little Jabal, sees with pride to-night, How well your re stowed ,I think you re pretty tight. So kindly packed together, I dare say Not one ill-tiatured thought can here fetch way: Though Candor, Taste, and Judgement, who are come As cabin passengers, have always room. Small though our barque is, yet well built and sound; No fears that she will ever run aground! The OWNERS, tootoo spirited to shrink, Will never see their gallant vessel sink; If (with a pilots care) in the command Our captain steers her, with an artists hand; That hope s our venture; boldly we embark it, Nor wish to seek, or find a better market. To-night, one novel article s on board ; A sample merelydrawn from natures hoard A native, young adventurer comes forth; The growth is genuineyou must rate its worth: The tender plant puts forth its trembling leaves, Even shrinking from the favor it receives; New to the art,a stranger to its laws I come a suppliantin my sexs cause! Come, do now, be good humoredtis by half More pain to you, Im sure, to frown than laugh. 38 Dramatic Reminiscences. I found that secret out, as, in your eyes, I ye marked the beams of genuine pleasure rise! To our young friend, within, shall I impart This cluethis master-key to gain the heart? To nature true, your judgement cant be fickle; You 11 raise, (perhaps) another LITTLE PICKLE, Grateful as is the first and all you own, Nursed, reared, and tutored, by your smiles alone. Candor, and critic taste, have kindly viewed The first expansion of the opening bud; And through the oerwhelming blushthe stifled power., Augured the future harvests ripened store. Merit is ever modestto be led, Like your own INDEPENDENCE, from its shade, Requires a fostering art, a guardian arm, To shield the growth from each insidious harm So worth expandsand so your freedom grew; And such your glorious Leader proved to you With watchful care, with patient toil, he reared The healthful plant,and as he watched, he cheered The rapid growthtill nations saw it rise, A solid column, towering to the skies. 0 be to merit, opening to your view, What nature was to man, and WASHINGTON to you! The season closed about the first of May. Tyler withdrew from the concern, and the trustees leased the theatre to Williamson for a term of years. In the course of the spring of 1796, the project of building a new theatre was started, a subscription opened, and almost immediately filled up. Such was the prevailing taste for theatrical performances, that men of capital were willing to invest their property to almost any ~amount in the erection of theatres; and mechanics did not hesitate to take shares in payment for their labor. Contracts were made, the building went on rapidly, and before the first of January, 1797, the Hay-Market theatre, an immense wooden pile, proudly overtopping very other building in the metropolis, was completed. It is believed That the idea of raising a rival theatre was first suggested by C. Powell, or some of his friends, who thought him injured by the pro- ~prletors of the Federal-street theatre; but there was another and a more potent principle exerted in producing the establishment, than ~mere theatrical rivalry, and that was, political feeling. Political excite- ment, at that time, between the parties then denominated Federal and Jacobin, was high and furious. Every man joined himself to one or the other of these parties, and each was jealous of the ascendency of the other. It was suspected, and not without some reason, that party politics, which pervaded almost every private as well as public concern, had some influence in the management of the Federal-street theatre; and that the trustees, who were all of the Federal school of politics, had upheld and justified the manager in the introduction of pieces, tending to provoke the resentments and animosities of their political opponents. It was customary, (and, very naturally so,) for the actors,. who were all emigrants from the English stage, to interpolate jests and witticisms, at the expense of the French, who were then at war with England; and these often gave great offence, excited disapprobation, and some- times created great uproar in the house. The anti-federal, (or, as it was then called, the Jacobin) party, were so extremely sensitive, that Dramatic Reminiscences. 89 they took great offence at the representation of the Poor Soldier pretending that the character of Bagatelle was a libel on the charac- ter of the whole French nation. They were encouraged in this, by the French consul, then residing in Boston. A pretty smart quarrel was excited between him and the editor of the Boston Gazette; and the controversy, at last.,. became so bitter, that a mob, on one occasion, attempted to stop the performance of this farce, and did considerable damage to the benches, doors, and windows of the theatre. After a short recess, which commenced about the last of May, Will- iamson again drew up the curtain of the Federal-street stage. He retained many of the principal performers of the preceding season, and enriched the company, by adding the talents of Chalmers, Bates, and Mrs. Whitlock. Chalmers was introduced on the first night of the season, as Vapid, in The Dramatist. Mrs. Whitlock came out in Isabella, in Southerns Fatal Marriage, and repeated the part several times within a short period. Bates was reserved till the season was near two months advanced, and then brought forward as Justice Wood- cock, in Bickerstaffs delightful opera, Love in a Village, and Sharp, in the Lying Valet. Jones, who had returned from Charleston, to pass the summer in New-England, joined the company at the com- mencement of the season, and played for several weeks, with a popu- larity, equal to that which attended his first performances. Mr. and Mrs. Rowson, Mr. and Mrs. Hogg, and their daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Solomon, with two daughters, and Mr. Downie, were in the Federal- street company this season. The evening of the fourteenth of December, deserves commemora- tion in this work, as that on which commenced the dramatic career of WILLIAM CHARLES WHITE. This gentleman belonged to a very re- spectable family of Boston. He was employed in the counting-house of a merchant; but becoming more fascinated with the pages of Shakspeare, than those of the ledger, he resolved to make an experi- ment of his talents on the stage. His extreme youth, genteel educa- tion, extensive connections, and promising talents, attracted a nume- rous and critical audience. The part he selected for this experiment, was Young Norval, and his success was so satisfactory to himself and his friends, that he repeated the part the next week, and, a short time after, appeared in Tancred, first time in Boston. In the month of December, the Hay-Market theatre was completed. It was an immense building, constructed entirely of wood. It had three tiers of boxes, and a gallery. The lobbies and staircases were spacious and convenient. On each side of the stage was a suite of dressing rooms, constructed in wings projecting from the second story of the main edifice, and nearly on a level with the stage. The entrance to the pit was up a flight of steps. This theatre was first opened on Monday, the 26th day of Decem- ber. C. Powell had made a voyage to England during the preceding summer, to complete his company by the enlistment of recruits; and returned with Mr. and Mrs. Barrett, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson, three Misses Westray (daughters of Mrs. Simpson by a former marriage) and a corps of ballet dancers and mimes. Among these were the cel- ebrated French performers, Francisquy, Val, Leg~, and their wives. The company was numerous, and embraced a great variety and excel- 40 A Poets Repiniiags. lence of talent. The opening play was the Belles Stratagem, which was thus cast. Doricourt, S. Powell; Sir George Touchwood, Mar- riot, (first appearance;) Flutter, C. Powell; Saville, Dickson, (first appearance on any stage;) Courtall, Taylor; Villars, a young Ameri- can; Hardy, Simpson, (first appearance;) Letitia Hardy, Mrs. S. Powell; Lady Frances, Miss Hughes; Miss Ogle, Miss. Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson;) Mrs. Racket, Mrs. Simpson, (first appear- ance.) The comedy was succeeded by a masquerade, ballet, panto.. mime, & c. in which the whole corps displayed their powers to their utmost extent. On the Wednesday following, Barrett made his first bow to the American audience, in the character of Ranger. Mrs. Barretts first appearance was in Mrs. Beverly, in Moores popular tragedy of the Gameste~x A POET~ S REPININGS. I have got, In exehangeof a hundred. and fifty men, three hundred and odd pounds. J& ca FALSTAFF. TRULY, these are the days of fact, And one must have a deal of tact, To like them to his dreams; One day, among the men of trust, In Fancys eyes will fling much dust, And file-like, rub away the rust That dims young Genius beamsL Such books as tell of olden time And fairy tale,the ancient rhyme Of knightly deeds and thoughts sublimer Are now forbidden things; The trumpet, sounding sharp and shrill, No longer bids the life.blood thrill; And plodding merchants bind the wifl Of our degenerate kings. Honor! what is it? t is a word That once, if but a breath were heard, Suspicious, like a startled bird, The sword flew from its sheath; The knighttrue valorscorned his life, So honor led him to the strife, And dearer far than child or wife, Was pure and stainless wreath. But nowwe ye craven hearts, indeed! He who would look for honors meed, Need not in field of battle bleed, Nor tilt with reekless foe; Money s your only touchstone now ; T will plaster up a broken vow, T will hide the wrinkles on the brow, T will hush the voice of wo. T will give the lover all success With her, who, were he portionless, Would neer bend haughty brow to blese Such suitor with her hand; It is a charm that opens doors That more than lost respect restores And while a wound is fresh, yet pours Its consolations bland.

A Poet's Repinings Original Papers 40-42

40 A Poets Repiniiags. lence of talent. The opening play was the Belles Stratagem, which was thus cast. Doricourt, S. Powell; Sir George Touchwood, Mar- riot, (first appearance;) Flutter, C. Powell; Saville, Dickson, (first appearance on any stage;) Courtall, Taylor; Villars, a young Ameri- can; Hardy, Simpson, (first appearance;) Letitia Hardy, Mrs. S. Powell; Lady Frances, Miss Hughes; Miss Ogle, Miss. Harrison, (afterwards Mrs. Dickson;) Mrs. Racket, Mrs. Simpson, (first appear- ance.) The comedy was succeeded by a masquerade, ballet, panto.. mime, & c. in which the whole corps displayed their powers to their utmost extent. On the Wednesday following, Barrett made his first bow to the American audience, in the character of Ranger. Mrs. Barretts first appearance was in Mrs. Beverly, in Moores popular tragedy of the Gameste~x A POET~ S REPININGS. I have got, In exehangeof a hundred. and fifty men, three hundred and odd pounds. J& ca FALSTAFF. TRULY, these are the days of fact, And one must have a deal of tact, To like them to his dreams; One day, among the men of trust, In Fancys eyes will fling much dust, And file-like, rub away the rust That dims young Genius beamsL Such books as tell of olden time And fairy tale,the ancient rhyme Of knightly deeds and thoughts sublimer Are now forbidden things; The trumpet, sounding sharp and shrill, No longer bids the life.blood thrill; And plodding merchants bind the wifl Of our degenerate kings. Honor! what is it? t is a word That once, if but a breath were heard, Suspicious, like a startled bird, The sword flew from its sheath; The knighttrue valorscorned his life, So honor led him to the strife, And dearer far than child or wife, Was pure and stainless wreath. But nowwe ye craven hearts, indeed! He who would look for honors meed, Need not in field of battle bleed, Nor tilt with reekless foe; Money s your only touchstone now ; T will plaster up a broken vow, T will hide the wrinkles on the brow, T will hush the voice of wo. T will give the lover all success With her, who, were he portionless, Would neer bend haughty brow to blese Such suitor with her hand; It is a charm that opens doors That more than lost respect restores And while a wound is fresh, yet pours Its consolations bland. A Poets Repinings. 41 Alas! for dreaming boys and girls Yet joy for old and crabbed churis, When diamonds, gold, and glittering pearls, Can have such potent power; We may not muse on days of old, When he who noblest actions told, Reaped the reward of brave and bold Sure love in ladys bower. Yet dreams of ancient time are sweet, And the rapt youth with joy will greet The hour when shade and silence meet, And young stars break their seals; Then dreams spread out their silken wings, Forth on her journey Fancy springs, And to the realm of warrior kings On swiftest pinion steals. Shadows, in distance dimly seen, Come forth with lance and armor sheen Banners wave gaily oer the scene; Bugles wake lofty song; Knighthood holds tournay there to-day Thrills through the veins the trumpets bray Rush the wild sounds of battle fray, The war-cry loud and long. A battle has been lost and won The day of doubtful strife is done, And brightly the descending sun Streams oer the victor band; The shout of victory and the song Of triumph sweep the air along, While echos gnyest tones prolong The sounds oer all the land. The blushing maiden welcomes back Her lover from his bloody track, With kiss and smile of pride; Her hand in hiswho would not be A belted knight of chivalry, Victorious lover, such as he, With such a beauteous bride Yet t is but fancy. In these days There is no meed for stirring lays; And he who thinks to rhyme for praise, Must be a carpet knight; The parlor for his battle-field, A ladys fan to serve for shield, Soft words the arms for him to wield, And dangerless the fight. The music of our peaceful home, Is, twice a year, the fife and drum, Or, nightly, the musquitos hum, Boding small danger near; The lance is changed for clerkly pen, And we, like honest, harmless men, While praising times that once have been, Rejoice that we are here. t if Li A CHAPTER ON FIELD SPORTS. EXPERIMENTAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL. I BEGIN with the first person singular, partly because I love to talk about myself, and partly that my readers may know that their adviser speaks from experience. There are infinite varieties of gun-barrels, each of which has its admirers, who will uphold that it is superior to all others. Every owl thinks its own young the handsomest. You will, no doubt, have been acquainted with some old and renowned sportsman, who has told you that he has killed a single pigeon with his favorite gun, at a hundred yards. Do not, therefore, buy a piece of the precise length and calibre he recommends. Setting exaggeration aside, the good man has told you of a single shot only. He has forgotten that he has missed a thousand times at a less distance. The ticket which draws the highest prize is remembered ; the blanks are forgotten. rrake it as a rule, that when you fire at a small bird more than forty-five yards off, you are more likely to miss than to hit. Your aim may be true, yet your shot may so scatter, that the object shall remain untouched. The utmost possible distance that hail-shot will kill, is something like twenty rods. I have killed a duck, at a hundred and twenty yards, but it was one of a flock; my shot were great Bs, and the drop that killed him, struck him in the head. It was mere chance. Sometimes a single hint, in a dull sermon, hits the conscience of some individual sinner. To shoot woodcocks, partridges, and such birds as rise suddenly, fly irregularly, and drop soon, a short gun is best. Charge heavily with fine shot; fill the atmosphere with particles of lead. When your dog points, cock your piece, and place your finger on the trigger. When the bird rises, point your gun at him, and fire. It is ten to one that some grain strikes him. Thus, if you let fly a volley of compliments at a lady, some will assuredly take effect. Woodcocks and partridges are very like the fair; once touched, though never so slightly, you are sure of them. I have heard some sportsmen say that they took aim at woodcocks; and, perhaps, they spoke truly, but I never could. I believe there is not one man in fifty whose eye and hand are as quick as a woodcocks wing. Some of the best cock-shooters I have known, do not bring the gun to the shoulder at all, but point and fire, breast high, like the British Infantry. A long barreled piece is best to shoot at aquatic fowls, and all such birds as fly steadily. Some persons aim before them, and let them cross the track of their shot. I do not think that this way will suit any but men whose motions are very quick. I have always used to take aim at the bird, and accompany him in his flight, with the sights, for a short distance. Thus the shot gets two motions; the one of the bird, and the other of the projecting power. To test this principle, stand on the deck of a canal boat, and throw an apple into the air. It gets the motion of the boat, and returns, not to the point in space from which it was propelled, but directly into your hand. Just so a lawyer humors his client, never firing across his temper, and thus bags him with certainty.

A Chapter on Field Sports. Experimental and Philosophical Original Papers 42-48

A CHAPTER ON FIELD SPORTS. EXPERIMENTAL AND PHILOSOPHICAL. I BEGIN with the first person singular, partly because I love to talk about myself, and partly that my readers may know that their adviser speaks from experience. There are infinite varieties of gun-barrels, each of which has its admirers, who will uphold that it is superior to all others. Every owl thinks its own young the handsomest. You will, no doubt, have been acquainted with some old and renowned sportsman, who has told you that he has killed a single pigeon with his favorite gun, at a hundred yards. Do not, therefore, buy a piece of the precise length and calibre he recommends. Setting exaggeration aside, the good man has told you of a single shot only. He has forgotten that he has missed a thousand times at a less distance. The ticket which draws the highest prize is remembered ; the blanks are forgotten. rrake it as a rule, that when you fire at a small bird more than forty-five yards off, you are more likely to miss than to hit. Your aim may be true, yet your shot may so scatter, that the object shall remain untouched. The utmost possible distance that hail-shot will kill, is something like twenty rods. I have killed a duck, at a hundred and twenty yards, but it was one of a flock; my shot were great Bs, and the drop that killed him, struck him in the head. It was mere chance. Sometimes a single hint, in a dull sermon, hits the conscience of some individual sinner. To shoot woodcocks, partridges, and such birds as rise suddenly, fly irregularly, and drop soon, a short gun is best. Charge heavily with fine shot; fill the atmosphere with particles of lead. When your dog points, cock your piece, and place your finger on the trigger. When the bird rises, point your gun at him, and fire. It is ten to one that some grain strikes him. Thus, if you let fly a volley of compliments at a lady, some will assuredly take effect. Woodcocks and partridges are very like the fair; once touched, though never so slightly, you are sure of them. I have heard some sportsmen say that they took aim at woodcocks; and, perhaps, they spoke truly, but I never could. I believe there is not one man in fifty whose eye and hand are as quick as a woodcocks wing. Some of the best cock-shooters I have known, do not bring the gun to the shoulder at all, but point and fire, breast high, like the British Infantry. A long barreled piece is best to shoot at aquatic fowls, and all such birds as fly steadily. Some persons aim before them, and let them cross the track of their shot. I do not think that this way will suit any but men whose motions are very quick. I have always used to take aim at the bird, and accompany him in his flight, with the sights, for a short distance. Thus the shot gets two motions; the one of the bird, and the other of the projecting power. To test this principle, stand on the deck of a canal boat, and throw an apple into the air. It gets the motion of the boat, and returns, not to the point in space from which it was propelled, but directly into your hand. Just so a lawyer humors his client, never firing across his temper, and thus bags him with certainty. Field Sports. 43 It is said, that the longer the barrel, the closer and farther it carries the shot. I doubt it. After a certain length of tube, the rest evidently increases the friction; the power to be overcome is greater ; conse- quently, the shot cannot range so far as it would were the barrel shorter. Why should the drops strike closer? Three feet of tube will confine and direct them as well as ten. I have found, by experiment, that a barrel of three feet ten inches, carried its shot as close as a longer bore of the same calibre. Trust me, there is no advantage in an excessively long gun, in these respects. Certainly you may shoot more truly with it. There must, almost always) be some trifling inaccuracy in the aim, and the longer the gun, the less it will affect the range. How- ever, this advantage of the long barrel is counterbalanced by its clum- siness and fatiguing weight. Your solid men are always tiresome. I have heard it advanced, that a bell-muzzled gun scatters the shot more than a straight, cylindrical tube. I believe the contrary, having tried an experiment with two guns of equal length and bore, the one bell- mouthed, the other not. The only reason I can give for the fact, is, that in the straight tube the shot expand more violently for confine- ment; in the other, the gradual expansion moderates this violence. Just so a clergymans son is more licentious than other young men. The metal of your barrel is a matter of some consequence. Brass will not answer for any but a human engine. The stuff is too light, and the recoil is consequently too violent. I shall never forget having fired a brass pistol with the charge of an ordinary iron one. My fingers were sadly lacerated, almost broken. Cast steel is liable, in a less degree, to the same objection. Besides, a cast steel barrel can scarcely be without.a flaw, which may affect the range, or increase the probability of bursting. Cast iron is yet worse ; a barrel made of cast iron will assuredly burst, sooner or later. Wrought iron is the best material, and the more it has been ~vrought, the better. We owe this discovery to the Moors. The temper of their lance heads and scymeters was unmatched. For a long while, a Spanish-barreled gun was esteemed the best. The more iron is wrought, the softer and tougher it becomes. Horse-shoe nails, welded together, are esteemed the best material for gun barrels, and justly. A leaden barrel would shortly wear out; a steel or brass barrel is affected by vibration. Neither of these effects is to be feared in a stub and twist barrel. Again, when a cast steel, cast iron, or brass barrel bursts, the frag- ments fly in every direction, to the great danger of the gunner and his companions. A stub and twist barrel, on the contrary, merely rends, and rarely injures any one. The same principles apply to the boilers of steamboats, and the human passions. Percussion locks are best on some accounts. They are water proof, and explode quicker than ordinary flint locks. There is no derange- ment of aim, in consequence of hanging fire, with a percussion lock. But a gun with a percussion lock has not so great a range as another of equal length and bore. It is like your quick-tempered man, \vhose anger does not reach far. Gunpowder burns very quick, but there is a limit to the velocity of its ignition. But a certain quantity will burn in any gun barrel. Fire an overcharged gun over snow, and you will find the superfluous particles strewed before the muzzle. All over the exact charge is a 44 Field ~Sports. superfluity, and operates merely as so much wadding. It only increase the friction, and therefore diminishes the range. The explosion of percussion powder is too quick. It drives the powder out of the barrel before it can be ignited. For woodcock or target shooting, I should prefer a percussion lock. For a long shot, I should like a common flint lock better. The fragments of a percussion cap usually fly in all directions, thereby endangering the eyes of the gunner and his companions. This difficulty is easily obviated. Let the hammer of your lock be well hollowed, and it will confine the pieces of the shattered cap, or give them a downward direction. Thus, hide your irregularities, and they will do you little harm. In selecting a lock, take one of which the work is raised from the plate, so that no two pieces rub upon each other. As to the temper, you must trust to chance. Take notice, that no flint lock is or can be water proof. One may be perfectly tight at first, but a few weeks wear will loosen it. The parts of a closely fitted lock remind me of man and wife, as they soon wear each other out. A smooth-bored gun can never throw a single ball with perfect accuracy. The bore cannot be perfectly smooth, the metal of the barrel cannot be of equal density in all its parts, the bullet itself can- not be perfectly globular, and cannot fit the barrel exactly. Any of these matters will cause a variation between the line of sight and the line of fire. However, a thick, smooth bore will serve ordinary pur- poses at short distances. To make your bullet go true, see that there be no windage, that is, that there be no vacant space between it and the barrel. If it he not lar,~,e enough for the bore, envelope it in a rag or bit of leather. A rifle barrel corrects all these inaccuracies. If the ball be too heavy on one side, and, therefore, swerves, the next spiral revolution brings it back again. A bullet from a smooth bore has, probably, four motions, viz, one forward, one parabolic, caused by the power of gravity, one caused by its own inaccuracy of figure, and one rotary from the same cause. The two latter do not occur when it is propelled from a rifle. A rifle ball has three motions only, the parabolic, the forward, and the spiral. Thus, the regular motion of principle cor- rects the eccentric flight of passion. A rifle barrel should be thick, that the metal may not vibrate. The grooves should be distinctly but not deeply cut. There is a manifest disadvantage in increasing their number. There should be enough of them to give the ball the spiral motion, and no more. Six will affect this purpose; all over that number increase the friction, and conse- quently diminish the range. The ball should be enveloped in a wrap- per thick enough to make it fit closely, but not too thick. It is a common, but a considerable error, to suppose that the tighter the ball is rammed, the truer and farther it goes. The contrary is the case. The explosion is the more dangerous, indeed, but that does not accel- erate the velocity of the bullet; it merely strains the metal of the barrel. A tightly-loaded gun is like a woman trusted with a secret. Both are in danger of bursting. There are different tastes with regard to the length and calibre of rifle barrels. With a short one, you get sight quicker; with a long Field Sports. one, ~ny trifling deviation from the line of aim is of the less conse- quence. Habit must decide in this matter. Something more positive may be said respecting the calibre. A large bore holds up the ball better than a small one. Accuracy in rifle shooting depends, when the barrel is good and properly charged, on the sights, and the poise of the piece. The barrel should never be bright; the glimmer deceives the eye, especially in a hot day. The whole piece should be so poised that it may bal- ance at the exact l)oint where it is upheld by the left arm in taking aim. When so balanced, the arm has but one force to resist; that of gravity. When the muzzle or butt preponderates, both arms are strained, and the trigger is rarely pulled at the proper instant. The eyes move together; the eye and the finger do not. Your forward sight may be of brass or silver; the latter is best, because brightest and least liable to rust. The hinder sight should be black, that the contrast may catch the eye the more readily, and cannot be, like a gentlemans coat, too finely cut. The sights should not be parallel to the bore. Every child knows that a bullet drops from the line of its propulsion the instant it leaves the muzzle of the gun. The line of aim over the sights, therefore, should point lower than the line of fire, that is, the exact direction of the bore. The bullet crosses and rises above the line of sight the moment it leaves the piece, but the force of gravity brings it down again till it strike the earth. The point where the line of sight inter- sects the line of fire the second time, is the point blank, or, as the French call it, the but en blanc. A gun will shoot with perfect accu- racy at the point blank distance, and no other. If you shoot at an object short of the point blank, you must aim under it; if it be beyond, you must aim over. However, you may make the point blank any distance you please, between ten and a hundred and fifty yards, by a careful adjustment of the sights. I have found, by experiment, that a Harpers Ferry rifle, which is about three feet long and throws a ball of half an ounce, drops its lead eighteen inches in a hundred yards. If it be intended to make its point blank a hundred yards, its line of sight should therefore point eighteen inches above the centre at that distance. So a preacher aims above the comprehension of his auditors, and makes a more certain impression. I know no rule for the quantity of the charge. As much powder as will burn should be put into the barrel; but the bulk will depend on the quality of the grain, and can only be ascertained by experiment. The western riflemen place the bullet on a plane surface, and take as much powder as will cover it for a regular charge. It is a very good practical rule. It is an error, to suppose that a high glazing increases the strength or quickness of gunpowder; on the contrary, it does not ignite so readily. A polished person is not so liable to be set on fire by insolent sparks as another. All guns which load at the breech or pretend to combine the prop- erties of the rifle and smooth bore, are inventions of the evil one, which no true-bred sportsman will carry. They cannot be kept in order, nor will they serve the purposes for which their inventors intended them for any considerable length of time. One of these hermaphrodite guns may be compared to a beast between the grayhound and pointer, which 46 Field Sports. has neither the nose of the one nor the legs of the other. The me~ chanism soon wears loose, and the safety of the gunner is compromised. No good gunner will ever fire shot from his rifle, or use an iron ramrod. Either of these practices injures the furrows, thereby affect- ing the direction of the bullet. Ladies who cook, draw, and play on the piano, seldom perform all their avocations perfectly well. Ducks are best shot in the morning early, and in stormy weather. The noise and inclemency of the weather make them unwilling to rise, and prevent them from hearing the approach of the gunner. A single duck is easier to kill flying than sitting. His flight is perfectly steady; a greater portion of his body is exposed, and his feathers are more open to the slugs. A ducks breast will often turn shot sitting. I would recommend smaller shot for duck-shooting than is commonly used in New-England. That commonly called pigeon-shot is quite big enough. Ducks may be advantageously approached in a boat or canoe, cov- ered with bushes. In some parts of the country they fly in a regular track, where sportsmen station themselves in huts of brush, and shoot them as they pass. Do not take your eye off from a duck when he passes apparently un- harmed by your discharge. The whole species is much more tenacious of life than any bird of the grouse kind. I have known a mortally wounded mallard to fly more than a mile before he dropped. Thus a pious miss carries the arrow of Cupid a good way without showing it, but she drops at last. Watch wood-ducks in the spring, and you may possibly find their nests in the hollows of old trees. If the birds be not edible at that season, their eggs are. It will not be amiss to take a pewter spoon with you, to tie to the end of a stick. The eggs often lie beyond arms length. If you see two wild geese and cannot get them both in range, shoot the female. The male will return within shot by the time you will have re-loaded. Either ducks or geese may be decoyed by one of their own species, whose feet you may fasten to a floating log for securitys sake. Do not do this with a hammer and nails, however; a cord will serve your purpose as well, and show more humaiuity. Those who put out the eyes of decoy-ducks and pigeons, deserve to be crucified. They do not even improve the decoy; for a bird that can see will quack as loud and flutter as well as one that is blind. A dog (a small, red one is best) may be trained to decoy ducks. The sportsman takes his con- cealed stand, and the animal runs backward and forward on the shore. The ducks come nigh, probably actuated by curiosity, and are shot. Insects and women affect bright colors in the same manner, and often suffer by it. Swans and loons may be decoyed by a red handkerchief. Tie it to a bush where it will flap in the wind, and conceal yourself. -The birds will, in t~vo instances out of three, leave their offing to he killed. Speaking of loons, you may always kill them, at a reasonable distance, by firing through the leaves of a bush thick enough to conceal th ~1ash of your gun. Field Sports. 47 Deer can rarely be hunted successfully on horseback, in this coun- try. In an open plain a good horse will soon overtake a deer, but if a wood be nigh, the fat and greasy citizen will immediately take shelter in it. In the northern part of New-York, deer are killed in the following manner. Their tracks in any particular district are well known, and the sportsmen station themselves at what are called the runwa3ls, with their rifles. Staunch dogs are then set on the track, and the animal rarely escapes. But this is waste of time, which the spoil does not repay. The better way is to range the woods, and trust to your knowledge of the animals habits. Deer cannot run a great while. The Indians take a fresh track, and follow it. If they start the quarry before they get within shot, they still follow. In fifteen or t~venty miles the deer gives out, and suffers himself to be approached. Few besides Indians can hunt deer successfully in this manner. if a deer is running fast by you, utter a sharp cry, or whistle shrilly, and he will tarry long enough for you to aim. If he bounds away with his tail erect, there is little use in following him; but if his tail drops, follow him up. The animal often runs long before he falls, and seldom drops on the spot where he is struck. If you are a good, quick shot, rely on a single ball. If your hand and eye are slow, load with two, or take a smooth bore and try buck shot.. In like manner, a wary mother will not discharge one unmarried daughter at a mans head, but try all she has at once. If one glances, another may hit. Above all, be cool. I have seen an excellent shot at a target miss the broadside of a buffalo at fifteen paces. His ex- citement blinded him, and shook his nerves. If, in your passage through the woods, you observe a pollard whose bark is scratched, examine it closely. If there be gray hairs sticking to the trunk, be assured that there is a raccoon in it. You have then nothing to do but to fell the tree. If you wish to make an especial quest for raccoons, it is best done after the first winter snow. Find their tracks in the day, and repair to the spot by moonlight. You will probably find them feeding, or at play. Moonlight is very dangerous to virgins and raccoons. I shall say nothing of the manner of taking wolves, because the animal is good.for nothing, and is very difficult to kill. I could speak largely on this head, but as there are very few wolves in New-England, it is hardly worth while. English travelers come the nearest to the species of all the beasts that come among us. Bears are very easily tracked, and with a hardy horse, you will soon overtake one. One or more dogs,the more noisy and cowardly the better,are of great use in hunting this animal. They will not hurt him, but they will so torment his ears with their noise, and his haunches with their teeth, that he will climb a tree in a pet, and you can come up at your leisure and shoot him. Bears sometimes winter in trees, and I would advise you to examine every large one you pass, attentively. If a bear turn upon you, it is of little use to run; for he can outstrip most men. Wait till he is within three paces, when you may be sure of inflicting an instantaneously mortal wound. If yoti are far from human habitations and have hunted all day without success, and are hungry, repair to the nearest swamp and 48 humors of an Oriental. shoot a dozen bull frogs. You may take my word that they are excel- lent eating. Prejudice has banished frogs and blackbirds from the tables of New-England, though I can find hundreds who will readily make affidavit that nothing is better than either. So endeth the chapter. HUMORS OF AN ORIENTAL. TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN OF THE TOOTER NAMEE. TALE I. How a body may sell too many oats for a shilling; or the story of the Oat that was turned out of oftice. ONCE upon a time there dwelt in a desert a certain Lion, who was mighty famous and formidable in his day and generation. The num- bers of unfortunate quadrupeds, who had found a long home in his insatiable maw, are beyond computation. But even a Lion cannot last forever. He became old and decrepit; and in this state happened one day to fall down a rocky precipice and knock out his grinders. This became a serious misfortune; for whenever he ate his dinner afterwards, he made such a mumbling job of it, that great pieces of meat stuck in his teeth. Now the Lion, like all old nabobs who love good eating, was accustomed to take a nap after dinner; and, as commonly fell a snoring with his mouth open, the mice would creep slily in and nibble the tit-bits among his ivory, whereby the Lions nap was broken, and great disturbance and vexation caused him. The Lion bore the annoyance for some time, not knowing how to de- vise a remedy; but, after having his gums tickled in this manner for three or four weeks, he sent for the fox and laid the case before him. The fox put on a long face, and after weighing the matter deliberately, advised his majesty to call in the cat. The Lion sent for the cat and ordered her to stand sentry. The cat took her post, and when the mice came the next time, thinking to play their old gum-game in the Lions jaws, bounce! she sprang among them, and the whole troop scampered off pell-mell. Now was tranquility restored, and the Lion slept well in spite of his teeth. He promoted the cat, as in duty bound; for a man in office should always be ready to give his friend a lift. The cat was no fool, but managed the affair with a foresight and calculation that would have done honor to a grand vizier. If I kill the mice, quoth she to herself, the Lion will have no need of my services, and then I may go whistle; but if I content myself with scaring them away, I shall be the Lions body guard for life ! True to this maxim, she never put one of the mice to death, but only gave them a dab or two with the fore-paw, or a back-handed wipe with the end of her long tail. Things went on swimmingly, and the cat lived in clover. But one day, the cat went off to gossip with an acquaint- ance in the neighborhood, and left her kitten to do duty. Young puss no sooner saw the mice approach, than she sprang upon them and demolished the whole brood in a jiffy. The Lion, finding there were no more mice to trouble him, was suddenly seize(l with a reforming

Humors of a Oriental. Translated from the Persian of the Tootee Nameh Original Papers 48-52

48 humors of an Oriental. shoot a dozen bull frogs. You may take my word that they are excel- lent eating. Prejudice has banished frogs and blackbirds from the tables of New-England, though I can find hundreds who will readily make affidavit that nothing is better than either. So endeth the chapter. HUMORS OF AN ORIENTAL. TRANSLATED FROM THE PERSIAN OF THE TOOTER NAMEE. TALE I. How a body may sell too many oats for a shilling; or the story of the Oat that was turned out of oftice. ONCE upon a time there dwelt in a desert a certain Lion, who was mighty famous and formidable in his day and generation. The num- bers of unfortunate quadrupeds, who had found a long home in his insatiable maw, are beyond computation. But even a Lion cannot last forever. He became old and decrepit; and in this state happened one day to fall down a rocky precipice and knock out his grinders. This became a serious misfortune; for whenever he ate his dinner afterwards, he made such a mumbling job of it, that great pieces of meat stuck in his teeth. Now the Lion, like all old nabobs who love good eating, was accustomed to take a nap after dinner; and, as commonly fell a snoring with his mouth open, the mice would creep slily in and nibble the tit-bits among his ivory, whereby the Lions nap was broken, and great disturbance and vexation caused him. The Lion bore the annoyance for some time, not knowing how to de- vise a remedy; but, after having his gums tickled in this manner for three or four weeks, he sent for the fox and laid the case before him. The fox put on a long face, and after weighing the matter deliberately, advised his majesty to call in the cat. The Lion sent for the cat and ordered her to stand sentry. The cat took her post, and when the mice came the next time, thinking to play their old gum-game in the Lions jaws, bounce! she sprang among them, and the whole troop scampered off pell-mell. Now was tranquility restored, and the Lion slept well in spite of his teeth. He promoted the cat, as in duty bound; for a man in office should always be ready to give his friend a lift. The cat was no fool, but managed the affair with a foresight and calculation that would have done honor to a grand vizier. If I kill the mice, quoth she to herself, the Lion will have no need of my services, and then I may go whistle; but if I content myself with scaring them away, I shall be the Lions body guard for life ! True to this maxim, she never put one of the mice to death, but only gave them a dab or two with the fore-paw, or a back-handed wipe with the end of her long tail. Things went on swimmingly, and the cat lived in clover. But one day, the cat went off to gossip with an acquaint- ance in the neighborhood, and left her kitten to do duty. Young puss no sooner saw the mice approach, than she sprang upon them and demolished the whole brood in a jiffy. The Lion, finding there were no more mice to trouble him, was suddenly seize(l with a reforming Humors of an Oriental. 49 fit. His body guard were informed that his majesty had no further occasion for their services; and both cat and kitten were obliged to cut and run. MORAL. A shrewd politician knows how to make rogues useful. Great knaves thrive only by winking at the knavery of their under- strappers. TALE II. How one trick may serve a turn till it is met in the face by another; or the story of the Goldsmith and Carpenter. A GOLDSMITH and a carpenter were once boon companions; and, being in pretty easy circumstances, passed the most of their lives in junketting and making merry. Pity it is that so pleasant a life could not last forever; but just at the moment when these jovial fellows fancied themselves the happiest of men, their last coin was expended, and they found themselves a couple of miserable dogs. They tried to borrow money, but, as ill luck would have it, cash hRppened to be particularly scarce wherever they applied. In short, they were at their wits end to get a living, yet managed, by hook and by crook7 to escape starvation. One day, in strolling about the country, they came to a temple, when a thought struck the goldsmith. Let us feign ourselves Brahmins, said he to the carpenter, and get admission into the temple; who knows but we shall find good pick- ing there? No sooner said than done; they stretched their faces into a dismally pious look, and bolted in. Here they found a great number of golden idols, and numerous Brabmins worshiping. Our two rogues, nothing abashed, fell to imitating them, and so well did they sham the devotee, that the Brahmins left the temple in their charge. When night came, they seized the idols and decamped. Having reached a lonely part of the woods, they buried the idols under a tree, and agreed to let them lie snug till the fame of the theft had blown over. But when were a couple of rogues knownto lay their heads together, without, in the end, plotting to cheat each other? Ere a week had passed, the goldsmith went by stealth, dug up the idols, and hid them in a place of his own. Next morning, going with the carpenter to the tree, and finding them gone, he feigned a terrible rage, and laid the theft upon the carpenter. You chip of a crooked log, he exclaimed, no one but you could have stolen them. The carpenter was thun- derstruck; but, after hearing the goldsmith storm away at such a rate, he became convinced that his worthy partner was the real thief. However, feigning not to suspect him, he replied, you are out of your wits to lay such a thing to my charge; it must have been the rascally Brahmins, who tracked us to the spot, and nosed out the hiding-place of their blockhead deities. The goldsmith pretended to be pacified, and they both returned; home to their families. The carpenter set his wits to work to cjrcum- vent his old friend. He procured a log of wood, and made a figure exactly resembling the goldsmith, and clothed it in the dress he usually wore. Then going to a bears den in the woods, he got a pair of young cubs, and kept them constantly about it; and when hungry~ VOL. in. 7 60 Humors of an Oriental. they were taught to eat out of the bosom of the image. After some time the carpenter made a feast and sent for the goldsmith and his family; after dinner, while the children were playing about the gar- den, he stole away the two sons of the goldsmith, and shut them up in the cellar. Then making a tremendous halloo, he ran after the gold- smith, and cried out Oh! my friend, your children are lost! a great she bear just now came out of the wood and fell to licking them with her tongue, when they were suddenly transformed into cubs, and ran away with her. The goldsmith would not believe a word of the story, and became furious, as the carpenter persisted in it. You villain, said he, you have murdered them, because you think I cheated you in the affair of the golden images; but you shall not make a fool of me so. On this, he dragged him before the Cady, where the whole case was argued. Nobody, of course, believed any thing of the carpenters tale, and the Cady was about to give sentence, when the carpenter begged for a moments delay. Your worship must allow, said he that if these unfortunate youths should again behold their father, they would, not- withstanding their transformation, give some token that they recognized him, in which case, the truth of my story would be pretty clear. The Cady agreed to this, and the goldsmith readily consented to such proof, adding with a laugh, when you can find a cub that shall call me daddy, I must be a bear with a vengeance, not to father the brute! Say you so ! exclaimed the carpenter, then singe my mustachies if I dont think I see the little pets coming. At this moment, the cubs being purposely let loose, burst into the court, and running to the goldsmith, sprang upon his bosom and began nuzzling and smacking at a furious rate. The whole assembly were struck with aston- ishment, and the goldsmith, fully believing his sons bewitched, with- drew his complaint, and confessed his thieving to the carpenter. The latter promised to restore the boys to their lost shape, if the goldsmith would disgorge the whole of the booty; but before the affair could be settled, the whole roguery came to light, and the two sharpers were soundly bastinadoed. TALE III. How a blockhead may blunder into good fortune; or the story of the Jackall, who became a great personage by accident. THERE was once a Jackall, the most prying and pragmatical of all his tribe; he was continually thrusting his nose into every bodys busi- ness; and though his meddling propensity got him into many a scrape, nothing could cure him of his inclination to peep into every nook and corner that he could espy. One day, as he was sharking about for something new, he entered the shop of a dyer and began reconnoiter- ing here and there. In attempting to peep into a pot of indigo, he fell in, and got his hide dyed completely blue. He made a shift to scramble out and escape to the woods, where he no sooner appeared, than all the animals began staring at him, thinking him to be some strange non-descript. Nothing so potent with the multitutde as nov- elty, and our hero became the wonder and admiration of all quadru- peds. To make a long story short, old Blueskin was chosen king, although he knew as much about governing as an oyster does of Humors of an Oriental. 51 running a race. Having attained to this great dignity, his head be- came completely turned, and he began to imagine himself in reality, a quadruped of great genius. Whenever he went abroad he was received with shouts of Blueskin forever! Hurrah for Blueskin ! In short, what will you have of it? totally forgetting that his wondrous dignity was only skin deep, and that he was a poor dolt of a jackall at bottom, he resolved to muster an army and conquer the world. So getting his rank and file together, he put himself at their head and set out; but before he had completed a days march, there came on a violent rain and, no shelter being at hand, his majesty got so soundly drenched that his hide was washed clean, and the cheat discovered. Hereupon, the beasts, enraged at the humbug, fell upon him tooth and claw ; one gave him a poke, and another a scratch, and his Majesty, King, Conqueror, and Generalissimo, was fain to scamper off to the woods in double quick time, carrying with him no remnant of his dignity but a skin full of sore bones, and the knowledge that lie was one of the sorriest varlets that ever wagged a tail. MORAL. Many a dull fellow passes for something prodigious, by stumbling into an indigo pot. The cheat may last during fair weather, but a rainy day spoils all. TALE IV. How a man may put his wits to a bad purpose by aping his betters; or the story of the Barber and the Brahmins. A CERTAIN merchant, by his numerous deeds of charity, had ex- hausted an ample fortune and become utterly destitute. He found no way of retrieving his condition, and began to despond. One night, in a dream, a genius appeared to him and accosted him in these words; Friend of the poor, whenever thou hast need of money, call upon my name, and I will shortly enter thy house in the shape of a Brahmin; then strike me with a stick and I shall be transformed to gold ! In the morning the merchant called upon the name of the genius, and presently a Brahmin entered; the merchant gave him a blow with his staff, and he instantly became a mass of solid gold. When he had occasion for money he broke off a finger, nose, or other limb, till the whole was gone; the genius being called upon again, the process was repeated. This enabled the merchant to live according to his hearts desire. But there happened to be a meddlesome barber in the neigh- borhood, who, seeing a Brahmin now and then going into the mer- chants house, could not be easy till he had found out his business. So one day he dogged him into the house, and peeped through a cranny, where he was a witness to the whole business of gold-making. By the beard of the Prophet ! he exclaimed, this is rare business; a Brahmin is profitable stock to work upon. I 11 een have a slap at the loons myself. So hastening home, he invited into his shop all the Brahmins he could find in the streets, locked himself in with them, and placed them on stools all around the room. Then, taking a stout cudgel, he began to bang them over their pates, one by one, but his cus- tomers not relishing such a wooden benediction, fell upon him with such fury that the poor shaver would fain have run out of his hide like a snake in spring time. After thumping him black and blue, they let him off 52 A Morning in June. and went their way, giving him half a copper to buy a plaster for his bruises. The unfortunate barber grumbled sadly at his ill luck; but so much wisdom was pummeled into him by the adventure, that he made no more attempts to manufacture gold, but ever after stuck to his soap-dish. MORAL. Whoever meddles with matters above his understanding, will be apt to get a rap over the knuckles. Every mans fist will not make a battering ram. A MORNING IN JUNE. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And soft and blue is the summer sky; The silver mist dissolves on the lea, The dew hangs trembling in crystal drops, And see and see! How the sunshine bathes the forest tops, And the mountain summits, cold and high. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the robin opens his golden eye, From his woodland covert green and dark, He comes to shake the dew from his wings~ And hark! and hark! A joyful carol he sings, he sings, As he floats away in the clear blue sky. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the spring oerleaping its grassy brink, Like a mimic volcano, sends the brook From its little crater of yellow sand, And look! and look! Where the woodland monarchs around it stand; Like a traveler, the Morning stoops to drink. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, While shrill from the farm.yard crows the cock, And the cottage cur continnes to bark, They have long been mocking the sluggard day, And hark! and hark! From the smoky city far away How drowsily tolls the lazy clock L.

L. L. A Morning in June Original Papers 52-53

52 A Morning in June. and went their way, giving him half a copper to buy a plaster for his bruises. The unfortunate barber grumbled sadly at his ill luck; but so much wisdom was pummeled into him by the adventure, that he made no more attempts to manufacture gold, but ever after stuck to his soap-dish. MORAL. Whoever meddles with matters above his understanding, will be apt to get a rap over the knuckles. Every mans fist will not make a battering ram. A MORNING IN JUNE. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And soft and blue is the summer sky; The silver mist dissolves on the lea, The dew hangs trembling in crystal drops, And see and see! How the sunshine bathes the forest tops, And the mountain summits, cold and high. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the robin opens his golden eye, From his woodland covert green and dark, He comes to shake the dew from his wings~ And hark! and hark! A joyful carol he sings, he sings, As he floats away in the clear blue sky. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, And the spring oerleaping its grassy brink, Like a mimic volcano, sends the brook From its little crater of yellow sand, And look! and look! Where the woodland monarchs around it stand; Like a traveler, the Morning stoops to drink. The sun is rising, The sun is rising, While shrill from the farm.yard crows the cock, And the cottage cur continnes to bark, They have long been mocking the sluggard day, And hark! and hark! From the smoky city far away How drowsily tolls the lazy clock L. 53 REMINISCENCES OF A RETIRED MILITIA OFFICER. NO. iii. AT the end of my last number, I left the valiant Captain Smashem of the Rantipole Sharpshooters, in manifest danger of an indictment for a riot, and a court martial for disobedience of orders,and my val- iant self with uniform torn, and face bruised, so as to vie in colors with the rainbow; my body, it is true, in a situation not very enviable, but my soul borne aloft on the wings of glory. My experience has taught me that most things, in this world of chance and changes, happen differently from our anticipations; this remark is especially true of promotions in the militia. Captain Smashem, for in- stance, according to any rational calculation, was, as they say, com- pletely dished; there was an end, one would have imagined, to his mili- tary career; fbr who would -have thought of trusting a man with com- mand., who -had showed himself so unwilling to obey? and what reason could-possibly be urged for promoting an officer in the militia, who had proved himself so extremely deficient in that indispensable accomplish- mentthe art of running away? Yet in the face and eyes of these good and sufficient reasons to the contrary, Captain Smashem found favor with his compatriots and fel- low-soldiers. The idea of a court martial was soon given over; the events on Booby Hill being generally considered of a character not sufficiently serious to merit the consideration of so grave a tribunal ; the thought of an indictment was very generally scouted, lest it should lead to undesirable collisions between the civil and military authority; Captain Smashems misbehavior at the great sham-fight passed gradu- ally into oblivion; and, within less than three years from that event, he was chosen major-general of the division to which we both belonged. If that magnanimity of spirit, which I have ever especially studied, and which has enabled me to support a dignified composure, alike on the muster-field, and in the Applesbury Almshouse, did not now come to aid, my readers can scarcely imagine the terms of strong disdain, in which I should speak of Smashems promotion: That he, an illiterate blacksmith; skillful in nothing but hammering iron, and beating his neighbors; a man of no merit or military science whatever, should thus be placed at the head of a division; while I, college-learned, devoted heart and soul to the military profession, who had given my nights and days to Steuben, and who had sacrificed my time, my fortune, and the dearest affections of my heart, for the honor of promotion in the militia, still remained a mere captain of Light Infantry! I was tempted, (and who would not have been?) to throw up my commission at once, and to renounce forever, the service of an ungrateful country. And perhaps my country would have lost my invaluable services, and I myself, retiring from the bustle and confusion of military life, should have ended my days in sweet, domestic, inglorious obscurity, had not the hand of fate, which intended me for no such humble, though happy station, visited me at this time with certain domestic afflictions, which drove me back upon the military profession, for solace and support. My readers must be very well aware of die passion I entertained for Marianne Fairservice. Indced, it was her vivid exclamation, at the

Bellerophon Burdock Burdock, Bellerophon Reminiscences of a Retired Militia Officer Original Papers 53-57

53 REMINISCENCES OF A RETIRED MILITIA OFFICER. NO. iii. AT the end of my last number, I left the valiant Captain Smashem of the Rantipole Sharpshooters, in manifest danger of an indictment for a riot, and a court martial for disobedience of orders,and my val- iant self with uniform torn, and face bruised, so as to vie in colors with the rainbow; my body, it is true, in a situation not very enviable, but my soul borne aloft on the wings of glory. My experience has taught me that most things, in this world of chance and changes, happen differently from our anticipations; this remark is especially true of promotions in the militia. Captain Smashem, for in- stance, according to any rational calculation, was, as they say, com- pletely dished; there was an end, one would have imagined, to his mili- tary career; fbr who would -have thought of trusting a man with com- mand., who -had showed himself so unwilling to obey? and what reason could-possibly be urged for promoting an officer in the militia, who had proved himself so extremely deficient in that indispensable accomplish- mentthe art of running away? Yet in the face and eyes of these good and sufficient reasons to the contrary, Captain Smashem found favor with his compatriots and fel- low-soldiers. The idea of a court martial was soon given over; the events on Booby Hill being generally considered of a character not sufficiently serious to merit the consideration of so grave a tribunal ; the thought of an indictment was very generally scouted, lest it should lead to undesirable collisions between the civil and military authority; Captain Smashems misbehavior at the great sham-fight passed gradu- ally into oblivion; and, within less than three years from that event, he was chosen major-general of the division to which we both belonged. If that magnanimity of spirit, which I have ever especially studied, and which has enabled me to support a dignified composure, alike on the muster-field, and in the Applesbury Almshouse, did not now come to aid, my readers can scarcely imagine the terms of strong disdain, in which I should speak of Smashems promotion: That he, an illiterate blacksmith; skillful in nothing but hammering iron, and beating his neighbors; a man of no merit or military science whatever, should thus be placed at the head of a division; while I, college-learned, devoted heart and soul to the military profession, who had given my nights and days to Steuben, and who had sacrificed my time, my fortune, and the dearest affections of my heart, for the honor of promotion in the militia, still remained a mere captain of Light Infantry! I was tempted, (and who would not have been?) to throw up my commission at once, and to renounce forever, the service of an ungrateful country. And perhaps my country would have lost my invaluable services, and I myself, retiring from the bustle and confusion of military life, should have ended my days in sweet, domestic, inglorious obscurity, had not the hand of fate, which intended me for no such humble, though happy station, visited me at this time with certain domestic afflictions, which drove me back upon the military profession, for solace and support. My readers must be very well aware of die passion I entertained for Marianne Fairservice. Indced, it was her vivid exclamation, at the 54 Reminiscences of a sight of the Applesbury Light Infantry, while it was yet commanded by Captain Doggett, which, as I have already related, first kindled in my bosom the flame of military ambition. Miss Fairservice was not gen- erally reputed handsome, hut she was certainly a very remarkable girl. I know not what it was, but there was a fascination about her, which no one could withstand; many people, at their first introduction, called her affected, and pretended to think her disagreeable, bnt no one ever tarried long within the sphere of her influence, who did not love her. She had a s~veetness and gentleness of temper, combined with great spirit and intelligence, and every word she uttered was in such a soft, enchanting voice, that I firmly believed, though she could not have cap- tured, she might, at least, have captivated, an entire regiment: And for my part, I positively declare, that although the exigences of my military career have carried me from the most northerly corner of Essex, even to the island of Nantucket, and from the utter extremity of Cape Cod, far west among the mountains of Berkshire; and though, as became a soldier, I have always had an eye upon the ladies; yet I have never seen the woman, who could stand a moments competition with Marianne Fairservice. I loved herand my readers, who must by this time have some idea of the serious, enthusiastic turn of my temperament, may easily imagine how much is expressed in that single word. The very day on which I was chosen captain of the Applesbury Light Infantry, I had put up my sign, as an attorney in the village, and, on the evening of that same event- ful day, I found courage to tell Miss Fairservice how much I loved her. She acknowledged a mutual passion, and we were engaged. It was necessary that the engagement should be kept secret for the present, for Mariannes father had taken some unaccountable dislike to me; and, though I tried my very best, to get into the good graces of the old gentleman, I had not the slightest success. My inclination to serve my country as a militia officer, which, had the old fellow possess- ed one single spark of patriotism or public spirit, would have gained me his approbation and applause, was with him, a theme of constant jests and derision; and many is the time, I have had the greatest difficulty in the world, to prevent myself from returning most impertinent an- swers to his impertinent observations. He carried his hostility to me so far, that, finally, having some sus- picion how matters stood between Marianne and myselg he resolved to leave the town; that absense and change of scene might prevail, where paternal authority was found inefficacious. He chose a residence some forty miles distant from Applesbury; and, some time after his re- moval, Marianne was sent to Boston, wbere her charms and accom- plishments soon made her famous in the circles of fashion, and she was surrounded by beaux and dandies of the first order, against whose ele- gant impertinences, and graceful bandinage, a poor rural militia officer, and country attorney stood a very slight chance of successfully con- tending. It is not necessary to mention the tears and promises with which Marianne and myself separated, nor particulaly to describe the scheme of secret correspondence which was arranged between us. The lady, I believe, loved me sincerely; but I am inclined to think, (though in this I may very probably be mistaken, and I hope I am,) that the sweet Retired Militia Officer. 55 gentleness of temper, which made every thing she did and said so pe- culiarly feminine and fascinating, incapacitated her for any very deep and serious attachment. Our correspondence, which was extremely constant at first, as obsta- cles increased, grew less frequent. It was impossible for me to see Marianne at her fathers house; and, for a considerable time after she was sent to Boston, I was detained at Applesbury in settling a quarrel between my drummer and my first serjeant, which threatened to in- volve my company in irretrievable confusion, and which cost me eight months hard labor to bring to a happy termination. Having finished this weighty business, and finding a moments leisure to attend to my own affairs,somewhat alarmed at Mariannes long silence, I resolved to pay her a visit. It was nearly a year and a half since I had seen her; and now, that we were to meet, it was, of necessity, in that cold, distant, and unrestrained way, which is worse, if any thing, than not meeting at all. For the lady, at whose house she was visiting, had been particularly requested by Mariannes father, to keep an eye upon his daughter; and, also, on all such gentlemen from the country, as might honor her with a call. We met, however; and I found Mari- anne more charming than ever. She assured me that her affections re- mained unchanged; and I was happy, but I cannot boast of having made myself very agreeable. There was an embarrassment that almost completely overpowered me; that stiffened my limbs and tied my tongue; and my emotion was so excessive, that I was obliged to keep silent for fear of betraying it. On the whole, this unlucky visit did me much more harm than good, since Marianne would no doubt have re- mained constant to me much longer than she did, had I not foolishly exposed myself to so disadvantageous a contrast with the several ad- mirers who were already making her advances. The ladies of New-England, however they may be surpassed by the ladies of other countries in beauty, in wit, in temper, in accomplish- ments, in ardor, in constancy, far excel all the rest of the female world in~prudence; a virtue, no doubt, very great, but which I and some others who have soared above the common level, cannot help regarding with a certain degree of contempt. Now Marianne possess- ed her full share of this virtue; and as she was arrived at the mature age of twenty, she resolved that love should triumph no longer over reason. She saw me somewhat awkward and ungainly,(for I had not yet acquir- ed that military air and assured carriage, for which, in maturer life, I was famous;) my career of promotion in the militia seemed to be cut short; and, what was much worse, my property was gradually wasting, and I had no business in my profession. She resolved to make a handsome retreat, and, accordingly, wrote me ~vord, that she had long considered herself as a clog and impediment to the eagle-flights of my ambition; that nothing, she was assured, could long delay my promotion, were it not that all my time and thoughts were absorbed in my affection for her; that she had resolved to sacrifice her own private feelings to my advantage and the good of the country; and she, therefore, had the pleasure to inform me that she was shortly to be married to Mr. Work- ington, an elderly gentleman, as I afterwards discovered, a merchant of Boston, whom all the world had set down, the ten years last past, for 56 Reminiscences of a an old bachelor. So ended my engagement with Marianne Fairservice; yet not my affection for her; for I love her to this hour as well as ever. Let those inveigh against the ladys inconstancy who are confident of their own virtue. For my part, I do not find it very difficult to excuse her. When an engagement is once publicly announced, there are a hundred motives to keep the parties constant to it; but a long persever- ance in a secret engagementabsence and temptation intervening requires a steadiness of temper, which it is in vain to expect in a wo- man,at least, in any woman with blue eyes and a light complexion~ The marriage of Miss Fairservice made a complete revolution in my affairs. Had she proved constant to me, my military spirit would, per- haps, have soon evaporated, and I should have shortly become a thriv- ing country attorney. My life would have been less glorious, and pro- bably more happy; my name would never have been sounded abroad as a great military commander; andy perhaps, I should not have died in an almshouse. But to imagine what might have been is useless and idle. The iron hand of Fate engrasps us; our fortunes are determin- ed by an invisible agency; our destiny is allotted to us, and must be accomplished,and Fate, Fortune, and Destiny, conspired to make me the most famous of militia officers. Not three days after I received Mariannes farewell letter, there was a grand review of the brigade to which I belonged. The troops were to be reviewed by General Smashem, who was to rendezvous with his suite at Black Sams tavern, about a mile from the parade ground, and there await the arrival of an escort. Though my heart was torn by a thousand contending emotions, I was on the ground with my company at a very early hour~ and was detached by Brigadier General Spitfire to do the escort duty to Major-General Smasheni. The orders I received were in the following words,for the issue of this escort duty makes it necessary to be particular: You will proceed, with all convenient des- patch, to Black Sams tavern, and there wait till nine oclock, A. M. at which hour, precisely, you will take up your line of march for the pa- rade ground, acting as an escort to the major-general and his suite. It may well be imagined, that this particular duty was not much to my mind; but, suppressing all personal feelings, in the true spirit of mil- itary obedience, I resolved that the orders I had received should be executed to the letter. I arrived at Black Sams tavern about half past eight, and found the general and his staff, with their coats off, in the midst of a high carousal. My officers and myself were invited to join them, which invitation I thought proper to decline. After waiting some time, the wooden clock in the bar-room began to strike nine, but nei- ther the general nor his attendants began to show any intention of moving. I waited till it was precisely nine, by my own watch, which had lately been set by the sun, when I ordered my music to strike up, and marched off my company at double quick time. The sound of my drums brought half a dozen coatless officers to the windows; they called to me to stop; they protested that General Smash- em had torn a hole in his regimental breeches, and could not possibly move till the chamber-maid had mended it; the generals aids came running after me, hatless and out of breath, with express orders from the general to march back and wait his convenience; but I turned a deaf ear to them all, and pushed off with great speed for the parade ground. Retired Militia Oflicer. 57 In about half an hour after I had taken my place in the line, Gene- ral Smashem and his staff came riding up in great disorder, and after a brief interview between Brigadier Spitfire and the Major-General, I suddenly found my sword taken from me, and myself put under arrest. General Smashems friends were very loud against me, and a court- martial was soon after detailed for my trial. I would enter at length into this trial, and state the evidence and ar- guments adduced on both sides, were it not that the said evidence, being carefully taken & swn in writing by the acting Judge Advocate, and contained in five large folio volumes, is preserved in the office of the Adjutant-General of this Commonwealth, where, also, may be found the summing up of the Judge Advocate, and my defence also, togeth- er with the opinion of the court, delivered at length, each contained in ten quires of large foolscapto which interesting collection of doc- uments I hereby refer my readers. The fact, whether the General had or had not torn his breeches, or whether the delay was or was not occa- sioned by this cause, was made a very serious question. The evidence touching that point is contained in the third and fourth of the above- named volumes, which will be found the most interesting of the collec- tion. But without entering into details, suffice it here to say, that after a laborious session of fifty days, the court adjourned,, after having unani- mously determined honorably to acquit me. The ground taken by the court was, that I had obeyed the orders I had received from the Briga- dier-General; that, till the Major-General had assumed the command of the brigade, he might justly be regarded as a mere stranger, of whom I was not obliged to take any notice further than my orders ex- tended; and that, as the Major-General did not choose to be ready to be escorted, at the hour which had been previously arranged between. himself and the Brigadier, on which arrangement my orders had been predicated, I did very well to obey my orders and march away with- out him. Nor did my triumph end here. For this court-martial having called me into notice, the memory of my deeds of valor on Booby Hill, which time had a little obscured, began to be resuscitated; my name was again in every bodys mouth; my laurels bloomed afresh, and, the colo- nel of our regiment dying just about this time, I was unanimously elected his successor. BELLEROPHON BURDOCK. DEATH AND THE LADY. A DUET. DEATH. COME, lady fair, away with me; To-night thy wedding night must be. Hark, hearst thou not the ravens croak Proclaim the bans from yonder oak? The guests attend amidst the gloom, And damps that fill thy houses tomb; Their sockets void and fieshless jaws, To grace the rite, will grin applause; 8 voL. III.

Death and the Lady. A Duet Original Papers 57-59

Retired Militia Oflicer. 57 In about half an hour after I had taken my place in the line, Gene- ral Smashem and his staff came riding up in great disorder, and after a brief interview between Brigadier Spitfire and the Major-General, I suddenly found my sword taken from me, and myself put under arrest. General Smashems friends were very loud against me, and a court- martial was soon after detailed for my trial. I would enter at length into this trial, and state the evidence and ar- guments adduced on both sides, were it not that the said evidence, being carefully taken & swn in writing by the acting Judge Advocate, and contained in five large folio volumes, is preserved in the office of the Adjutant-General of this Commonwealth, where, also, may be found the summing up of the Judge Advocate, and my defence also, togeth- er with the opinion of the court, delivered at length, each contained in ten quires of large foolscapto which interesting collection of doc- uments I hereby refer my readers. The fact, whether the General had or had not torn his breeches, or whether the delay was or was not occa- sioned by this cause, was made a very serious question. The evidence touching that point is contained in the third and fourth of the above- named volumes, which will be found the most interesting of the collec- tion. But without entering into details, suffice it here to say, that after a laborious session of fifty days, the court adjourned,, after having unani- mously determined honorably to acquit me. The ground taken by the court was, that I had obeyed the orders I had received from the Briga- dier-General; that, till the Major-General had assumed the command of the brigade, he might justly be regarded as a mere stranger, of whom I was not obliged to take any notice further than my orders ex- tended; and that, as the Major-General did not choose to be ready to be escorted, at the hour which had been previously arranged between. himself and the Brigadier, on which arrangement my orders had been predicated, I did very well to obey my orders and march away with- out him. Nor did my triumph end here. For this court-martial having called me into notice, the memory of my deeds of valor on Booby Hill, which time had a little obscured, began to be resuscitated; my name was again in every bodys mouth; my laurels bloomed afresh, and, the colo- nel of our regiment dying just about this time, I was unanimously elected his successor. BELLEROPHON BURDOCK. DEATH AND THE LADY. A DUET. DEATH. COME, lady fair, away with me; To-night thy wedding night must be. Hark, hearst thou not the ravens croak Proclaim the bans from yonder oak? The guests attend amidst the gloom, And damps that fill thy houses tomb; Their sockets void and fieshless jaws, To grace the rite, will grin applause; 8 voL. III. 58 Death and the Jlad2j. Their rotting shells phosphoric light Must be the lamps we use to-night, Their shrouds, the couch whereon must lie The happy pairthyself and I. LADY. Avaunt, grim king, it is not thy hour, Nor art thou fit for a bridal bower; The tomb s no place for the wedding noose, Its damps would dim my rouge and ceruse; I can show good cause, and sufficient in law, Though the bans be cried, for declining thy paw The canons all say, and say what s true, One woman cant be the wife of two. The youth who carried my troth to sea Will come back next month to love and me, With his fair broad brow and his step so firm, A far fitter playmate, sure, than the worm. DEATH. I thought of that, and stretched him on The deck his conquering arm had won; Deep he lies, stitched fast in his cot, Hugging a double-headed shot; That tie is broke, and thou art free So, no excuse, away with me. LADY. Ah me! hot tears from my eyelids fall But that cant help one that s dead at all. Though he sleeps sound the billows below, I yet may catch another, you know. And then, if you quench the light of these eyes, The world of fashion in darkness lies; Beau Lively told me it would. Then pray, Sweet, amiable Death, a while yet stay, Till Time my head with powder sprinkles; Then come with rheumatism and wrinkles. To pity now thine ear incline, For the worlds sake, if not for mine. DEATH. Then, lady, live a while, but know The dimples that adorn thee so Shall yield, one short month hence, their place To deeper pit-marks on thy face; No wrinkled hag, no grave-yard ghoul Shall sport abroad a cheek so foul; Nay, een Beau Lively shall contrive To cut the greatest fright alive. LADY. Stay, stop, dear Deathand wilt thou go ? Abridegroomthou,andleavemeso! Wait but a moment, till I call For my new straw and cashmere shawl. Hard case, alas! yet I rejoice At having even Hopsons choice. Here, take my arm and lead the way, Im ready,prithee no delay. 59 STEPHEN GIRARD.* YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of avarice, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of gain, listen to the history of Stephen Girard, lord of ten millions. In the early stages of society, courage and bodily strength conferred distinction; and of such was the fame of Hercules, whom we are ac- customed to consider a hero: but had he lived now, the poets them- selves as well as the judges, would have called him a felon. Com- merce has changed the world; and, in consequence, ambition becomes avarice, for wealth is power. Gold will buy almost every thing that a rich man covets, but opinion; this is above its purchase; and though wealth may give power, honor it cannot bestow. There was no place, in the Elysium of the poets, for the rich; and the scripture has shown us the fate of Dives. Of Stephen Girard we know nothing but what his biographer, Mr. Simpson, has told us, and the authority seems to be unexceptionable. The utility of wealth ends not with the first acquirer. In the present state of the world, the rich man may live forever in his acts of benev- olence; he may bequeath his wealth where it will for ages be applied to the relief of the afflicted, and enjoy a posthumous existence in the gratitude of remote generations. That Stephen Girard did, indeed, labor for this high renown, and this noble charity, seems to be denied by every act of his sordid life; still the fact is useful though the motive may not have been pure. The wealth, that he could not carry away, he has well bequeathed. France, says the Plutarch of the American Cresus, had the honor of giving birth to Stephen Girard, though France has many things to forget before she will rest her glory on this circumstance. The sun rose upon him for the first time on the memorable 24th of May, A. D. 1750. At the age of ten he left the paternal roof as a cabin boy, in which capacity his fidelity and acuteness, made him so acceptable to his master, that he always addressed him as my Ste- phen. In due time, he became a skipper himself, sailing between New-York and New-Orleans. Veaus soon became an ally of Neptune, if Love did not disturb the pursuits of navigation. Girard, no longer a youth, and never in his most palmy estate an Adonis, was suddenly penetrated with the attractions of a nymph in a pastoral costume, which includes neither stockings nor shoesas she was standing at a pump. Of Mrs. Girard,for so the lass became,there is but one opinion; that she was a modest and most attractive brunette of six- teen, at the age when she allied herself as unhappily as Beauty was allied in the nursery tale. Of Love is born Happiness, saith the apologue, but in this case the offspring was a changeling. Discord sprung from the union, and insanity followed~ The temper of Girard was unlike that of the first martyr. If he was kind in his domestic relations, it was more than could be safely predicted of one who was universally hard and crabbed in all others. In 1777, he left his grocery, which he had kept in Philadelphia, for a small farm at Mount Holly, where his chief employment was bottling claret and cider; for he was always Biography of ~5tephen Girard, by Strplieii Simpsoo, Esq

L. R. R., L. Stephen Girard Original Papers 59-63

59 STEPHEN GIRARD.* YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of avarice, and pursue with eagerness the phantoms of gain, listen to the history of Stephen Girard, lord of ten millions. In the early stages of society, courage and bodily strength conferred distinction; and of such was the fame of Hercules, whom we are ac- customed to consider a hero: but had he lived now, the poets them- selves as well as the judges, would have called him a felon. Com- merce has changed the world; and, in consequence, ambition becomes avarice, for wealth is power. Gold will buy almost every thing that a rich man covets, but opinion; this is above its purchase; and though wealth may give power, honor it cannot bestow. There was no place, in the Elysium of the poets, for the rich; and the scripture has shown us the fate of Dives. Of Stephen Girard we know nothing but what his biographer, Mr. Simpson, has told us, and the authority seems to be unexceptionable. The utility of wealth ends not with the first acquirer. In the present state of the world, the rich man may live forever in his acts of benev- olence; he may bequeath his wealth where it will for ages be applied to the relief of the afflicted, and enjoy a posthumous existence in the gratitude of remote generations. That Stephen Girard did, indeed, labor for this high renown, and this noble charity, seems to be denied by every act of his sordid life; still the fact is useful though the motive may not have been pure. The wealth, that he could not carry away, he has well bequeathed. France, says the Plutarch of the American Cresus, had the honor of giving birth to Stephen Girard, though France has many things to forget before she will rest her glory on this circumstance. The sun rose upon him for the first time on the memorable 24th of May, A. D. 1750. At the age of ten he left the paternal roof as a cabin boy, in which capacity his fidelity and acuteness, made him so acceptable to his master, that he always addressed him as my Ste- phen. In due time, he became a skipper himself, sailing between New-York and New-Orleans. Veaus soon became an ally of Neptune, if Love did not disturb the pursuits of navigation. Girard, no longer a youth, and never in his most palmy estate an Adonis, was suddenly penetrated with the attractions of a nymph in a pastoral costume, which includes neither stockings nor shoesas she was standing at a pump. Of Mrs. Girard,for so the lass became,there is but one opinion; that she was a modest and most attractive brunette of six- teen, at the age when she allied herself as unhappily as Beauty was allied in the nursery tale. Of Love is born Happiness, saith the apologue, but in this case the offspring was a changeling. Discord sprung from the union, and insanity followed~ The temper of Girard was unlike that of the first martyr. If he was kind in his domestic relations, it was more than could be safely predicted of one who was universally hard and crabbed in all others. In 1777, he left his grocery, which he had kept in Philadelphia, for a small farm at Mount Holly, where his chief employment was bottling claret and cider; for he was always Biography of ~5tephen Girard, by Strplieii Simpsoo, Esq 60 Stephen Girard. ready to engage in any thing for gain, and never permitted pride to interfere with profit. In 17852, he took, on a lease often years, with a privilege of removal, a range of stores, and the rents so rose, that he considered this as the commencement of his fortune. In 1790, Mary Girard, his wife, was admitted as an insane patient into the Pennsyl- vania Hospital, where she died, in 1315. Her husband attended the funeral; on which occasion, when leaving the grave, he said, it is very well. For her, perhaps, it was very well; that lacerated heart had found its long-desired and late repose. Better had it been for her to have been the wife of a poor and kind laborer, than the envied consort of the Great Banker. Having dissolved a partnership, in which he was engaged with his brother, Stephen Girards prosperity advanced rapidly. At the insur- rection of the blacks in St. Domingo, he had two vessels at Cape Fran~ois. Numbers of the rich deposited their movable wealth on board, and returned on shore only to be massacred. The heirs, also, were cut oil; and no claimants appeared for about fifty thousand dol- lars, which, therefore, became vested in Girard. After this, John Girard died, leaving Stephen his executor; and it was long after~vards, on the marriage of one of his nieces, that the secret came out that the deceased was rich. The benevolent Stephen preferred to hold over his brothers children the belief of dependence, that they might the more implicitly bend to his hard authority; for no one supposes that he was ever otherwise than just in intention, in all his pecuniary dealings~ Mr. Simpson, who writes like ~ cashier, and who compares his sub- ject with Cato, C~esar, and Napoleon, supposes, that, at this time, it was a leading motive with Girard, so to live, that he might die rich for the sake of immortality. Mr. Simpson falls into many inconsis- tencies, by making one gratuitous and most unfounded supposition; that Girard had in his heart, that hard receptacle ofgranite, any prompt- ing of benevolence, or longing after immortality. Morose, he admits him to be; friends and relations might die; misery, in her most humble and suffering shape might plead at his feet, and be spurned without a pittance; yet, the biographer believes, and requires his readers to believe, that the unmoved and immovable Girard, was pursuing plans of future benevolence, by which his fame might be carried to distant ages, and from which he was not to be a moment diverted, by any present existing suffering that he might have relieved by the smallest gift. Some anomalies exist, however, in all characters; and Girard would sometimes relieve suffering when he could do it without expense, and in a manner truly glorious, did the whole course of his life allow us to believe that he was actuated by feeling. We refer to his acts in the yellow fever. His avarice is called by his biographer not so much a love of money as a desire to control its destination. But there are nice shades of character, that no one but Bulwer, who makes a sage or hero of any thing, could reconcile. He had always a strange propensity for quacking the sick, as much as Czar Peter had for pulling teeth, and was ever ready to prescribe confi- dently in any case. In the pestilence which swept off thousands in Phila- delphia, no man was more active and adventurous in affording personal Stephen Girard. 61 relief than Girard. He went through the duties of a director and a nurse at the hospital, and the yellow cheek of the infected has been laid upon his, when he removed them from their dwellings. The biographer relates of Girard, that up to 1824 he fed well, and hazards an opinion that perhaps no man enjoyed life more than Stephen Girard; and he truly did enjoy it in the best sense, for he ate what pleased his palate, and drank what he wns most fond of, good claret. This is the most concise definition, that ever philosopher made of the enjoyment of life. It is known that Girard had, for some time,~200,000 in the hands of the Barings, which he could by no means get when he called for it. It was paid, however, at last, in various ways, partly in shares of the United States Bank. When a renewal of the charter was refused, Giraid deter- mined,therefore,to have a bank of his own. He accordingly bought the banking house at $120,000, and commenced banking with a capital of $12,000 000 while the immense deposites of the National Bank in his iiiiiTt~Tincrea~ed his resources. Girard was known to the public chiefly as a banker; for this is the most general reputation in a coun- try, where, according to the Quarterly Review., no two people meet and talk for a moment without using the word dollar. Perhaps no man was better known to the Philadelphians, his future heirs, than the great banker; and it was as common for them, in his life, to describe him as harsh, vulgar, and sordid, to a great degree, as it is now gen- eral to represent him as a philanthropist, fit to stand by Howard. There can be no doubt, that if he could have carried away his wealth, he would not have left it behind. That he made in many respects a good disposition of it, will be readily admitted; but how far this plan was conceived, till after a violent shock of his system, and how far he was led into it by his legal or other advisers, does not appear. It is proba- ble, however, that it was his own plan: there are characteristic marks upon it. He had no relatives whom he loved; he ioved no one, and none loved him in return. No length or fidelity of.service, excited in him a feeling of friendship or gratitude. He had nephews and nieces; among these, some must have been found, if not all, that~ had his heart been made of penetrable stuW would have softened it into the feeling that generally springs up between a patron and his dependents, or a childless man and his brothers children. It is true that he did not omit these relatives in his will, but he had no place for them in his affections. He had no affection; he followed one ruling passion of avarice, and though he sometimes gave in chari- ty, it was capriciously and rare. Mr. Simpson admits that he had at all times a perfect horror of parting with property, without an equivalent. He was a just man, but it was not after the manner of Aristides: he paid his dues and performed his contracts, for these were parts of his profession or pursuit. But no man was ever more rigid in exacting the provisions of a contract, and when he had, on his part, complied with the requisitions of one, he would do no more. He has been known, once at least, to plead the Statute of Limitations, to avoid a small claim, that seemed equitable and just. It was not in the bond. When he lost a lawsuit, says Mr. Simpson, wo to his household. He poured out a torrent of invective on all around him that were in any way his dependents. His obstinacy was somctimes stronger even 62 Stephen Girard. than his avarice. When he could not get mowers at his own price, he has suffered his grass to stand and go to waste, or converted it into pasture; for, says his biographer, when he had once taken his stand he never yielded. No more impression could be made upon his un- derstanding than upon his feelings. In person, he was as little attractive as in temper. His deportment was rough and vulgar. He had the sight of but one eye, and his regards were generally stern and thoughtful, rather seeking the ground than meeting an opposing look. His religious opinions were those of an enlightened Pagan. In his will, he directs that the scholars in the college shall be instructed in the purest principles of morality, so that they may have a love of truth, sobriety, and industry, and adopt such religious tenets as their matured reason may enable them to pre- fer. Happily, it seems to be the general principle in Christian com- munities, that the wheat should be sowed before the tares spring up. A further provision in the government of the college is, that no eccle- siastic whatever, on any occasion, shall ever be admitted within the precincts of the institution. The picture given by Mr. Simpson of Girard, though apparently fair, is an unfavorable one, while his biographer ranks him among the great of the earth; and it is but a natural consequence that his two hundred thousand legatees should regard him as one of the good. Nothing disposes the mind more to overlook the faults of the de- parted, than to be remembered in the will. To him that receives, at least, all faults should be covered with the mantle of charity. Shakspeare shows the great revulsion of feeling in the Roman populace, caused by reading Ca~sars will. 4 Cit. T were best he speak no harm of Bratus here. 1 Cit. This Cnsar was a tyrant. 3 Cit. Nay, that s certain: We are blessed that Rome is rid of him. .4nt. But here s a parchment with the seal of Cusar. I found it in his closet, t is his will. To every Roman citizen he gives, To every several man, seventy.five drachms. 2 (it. Most noble Cesar, we 11 revenge his death. 3 Cit. 0 royal Cusar. .qmt. Moreover, he hath left you all his walks, His private arbors, and new-planted orchards, On this side Tyber; he hath left them you, And to your heirs for ever; common pleasures, To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. Here was a Cusar: When comes such another? 1 Cit. Never, never :Come, away, away: Well burn his body in the holy place, And with the brands fire the traitors houses. L. ft 63 A VISION. WHEN I was a wanderer, I was once in Surat, where I made the ac- quaintance of a Brahmin, so liberal, that he had much converse with me, though, according to his creed, I was of an impure caste, and it was in Brabminical strictness, a pollution for him to permit me to ap- proach within ninety-six feet. He was a director in the Banyan hospi- tal, where sick and wounded animals are attended to with as much kindness as is sometimes thrown away in more enlightened countries, upon ungrateful men. Young man, said the Hindoo philosopher, for such he was, what motive has led you, at these years, so far from your home, and what compensation do you expect for such a sacrifice of the affections ? I have hut one motive, said I, that is, curiosity; which, if strict- ly analyzed, may be found composed of a desire to escape from scenes where I had ceased to be happy, and to find, in distant lands, a substi- tute for happiness, in change of scene and emotions of novelty. It is a vain pursuit, said the Brahmin, and, continued he, I have been better instructed in a vision. I saw, said he, in a dream, an ancient and sage-like man; his brow was not smooth, neither was his eye at rest. It seemed that he was familiar to me, though I could not remember where I had seen him before. He looked intently upon me, and said, Mortal, I am as thy shadow. I have been near thee from thy birth, I shall be nearer through life, and I shall not quit thee till death. Death only can divide us; but thou wilt endeavor to fly from me, and wilt sometimes think, that thou hast escaped. Yet I am not thy enemy, though I have little that thou wilt love. Thou art bound to a country where I cannot go; hut thou wilt be better received there, for what thou wilt learn of me in the journey. If, for a season, thou avoid me, thou wilt find nothing, that will not so remind thee of me, that thou wilt, though disappointed, again return to me, as thy companion through life. I was soon attracted to a being of a far more enticing aspect. He was flushed with youth and crowned with a chaplet of flowers. Fol- low me, said he, radiant with smiles. I am Pleasure, and I know him from whom thou wouldest escape. He is Care, but he cannot breathe where every odor is a perfume, and every sound is music. For a while I followed Pleasure; but the society soon became so tasteless, that I felt that I could prefer even that of Care. Disappointed and sorrowful, yet with a mind attuned to the softest emotions, I approached a damsel who was sitting by a fountain, pleased with the reflection of her own beauty, even while her tears were fall- ing into the stream. Maiden, said I, with our oriental abruptness, Why dost thou weep, and what is thy name? I weep, replied she, in a voice broken and murmuring like that of the fountain, because I am the most happy while I weep; and my name is Love. I will fol- low thee, said I, through every path; and should the thorns lacerate my feet, I will not leave thee, with whom it is better to weep than to smile with Pleasure; and in following thee I may the farther remove from Care. Alas! said Love, thou little knowest. Listen! for though I am not wise, I am at least sincere. I have learned from my

W. W. A Vision Original Papers 63-64

63 A VISION. WHEN I was a wanderer, I was once in Surat, where I made the ac- quaintance of a Brahmin, so liberal, that he had much converse with me, though, according to his creed, I was of an impure caste, and it was in Brabminical strictness, a pollution for him to permit me to ap- proach within ninety-six feet. He was a director in the Banyan hospi- tal, where sick and wounded animals are attended to with as much kindness as is sometimes thrown away in more enlightened countries, upon ungrateful men. Young man, said the Hindoo philosopher, for such he was, what motive has led you, at these years, so far from your home, and what compensation do you expect for such a sacrifice of the affections ? I have hut one motive, said I, that is, curiosity; which, if strict- ly analyzed, may be found composed of a desire to escape from scenes where I had ceased to be happy, and to find, in distant lands, a substi- tute for happiness, in change of scene and emotions of novelty. It is a vain pursuit, said the Brahmin, and, continued he, I have been better instructed in a vision. I saw, said he, in a dream, an ancient and sage-like man; his brow was not smooth, neither was his eye at rest. It seemed that he was familiar to me, though I could not remember where I had seen him before. He looked intently upon me, and said, Mortal, I am as thy shadow. I have been near thee from thy birth, I shall be nearer through life, and I shall not quit thee till death. Death only can divide us; but thou wilt endeavor to fly from me, and wilt sometimes think, that thou hast escaped. Yet I am not thy enemy, though I have little that thou wilt love. Thou art bound to a country where I cannot go; hut thou wilt be better received there, for what thou wilt learn of me in the journey. If, for a season, thou avoid me, thou wilt find nothing, that will not so remind thee of me, that thou wilt, though disappointed, again return to me, as thy companion through life. I was soon attracted to a being of a far more enticing aspect. He was flushed with youth and crowned with a chaplet of flowers. Fol- low me, said he, radiant with smiles. I am Pleasure, and I know him from whom thou wouldest escape. He is Care, but he cannot breathe where every odor is a perfume, and every sound is music. For a while I followed Pleasure; but the society soon became so tasteless, that I felt that I could prefer even that of Care. Disappointed and sorrowful, yet with a mind attuned to the softest emotions, I approached a damsel who was sitting by a fountain, pleased with the reflection of her own beauty, even while her tears were fall- ing into the stream. Maiden, said I, with our oriental abruptness, Why dost thou weep, and what is thy name? I weep, replied she, in a voice broken and murmuring like that of the fountain, because I am the most happy while I weep; and my name is Love. I will fol- low thee, said I, through every path; and should the thorns lacerate my feet, I will not leave thee, with whom it is better to weep than to smile with Pleasure; and in following thee I may the farther remove from Care. Alas! said Love, thou little knowest. Listen! for though I am not wise, I am at least sincere. I have learned from my 64 The Night Season. uncles, Wisdom and Experience, that neither Love nor Pleasure, can escape the pursuit of Care. I can only promise, that in my society you will the less regard him. Here the Brahmin addressed me, saying, Stranger, return, there- fore, to thy country, follow the footsteps of Love; for the affections confer more happiness than the intellect. Happiness is uot the off. spring of Knowledge; but to be good is to be happy. W. THE NIGHT SEASON. Juvat, 0 juvat ire per ignes ~Ethereos, lustrare alti vaga lumina culi. YE glorious stars; ye brightly shining words, Writ by Gods finger on creations walls, How beautiful and pure ye beam above! Ye bear no fearful message ;. ye are not Fraught with the sorrow of earths shrinking crowd, But, radiant messengers of heavenly love, Send light and joy to the benighted mind. Men need no~ sage interpretersto tell The mystery of your sense; ye speak a tongue Familiar to the soul ;known unto all, Yet written not in mens records of lore. Who looketh on your soft and trembling ray, Who watcheth oer your never.ceasing path, Readeth therein the mighty power of God Who sealeth thus the scroll of skies with stars, And prints his love in never-failing light. Refulgent orbs! are ye the spirit-isles, The heavenly homes of souls unchained from earth.? Yours the pure mansions girt with glory round, Unmade with hands, eternal in the heavens? It may be so. Ye only shine when man, Poor, clay-clad man, rests from his busy care; And when the toil of selfishness and sin Faints for a season and seeks rest by night, Ye mourn oer earth, outpouring dewy tears. Shine on! bright beacons of the upper deep; Send your mild radiance to our wearied souls, And light us onward, oer lifes troubled waves, To the calm islands of eternal rest.. *IAN

Ian Ian The Night Season Original Papers 64-65

64 The Night Season. uncles, Wisdom and Experience, that neither Love nor Pleasure, can escape the pursuit of Care. I can only promise, that in my society you will the less regard him. Here the Brahmin addressed me, saying, Stranger, return, there- fore, to thy country, follow the footsteps of Love; for the affections confer more happiness than the intellect. Happiness is uot the off. spring of Knowledge; but to be good is to be happy. W. THE NIGHT SEASON. Juvat, 0 juvat ire per ignes ~Ethereos, lustrare alti vaga lumina culi. YE glorious stars; ye brightly shining words, Writ by Gods finger on creations walls, How beautiful and pure ye beam above! Ye bear no fearful message ;. ye are not Fraught with the sorrow of earths shrinking crowd, But, radiant messengers of heavenly love, Send light and joy to the benighted mind. Men need no~ sage interpretersto tell The mystery of your sense; ye speak a tongue Familiar to the soul ;known unto all, Yet written not in mens records of lore. Who looketh on your soft and trembling ray, Who watcheth oer your never.ceasing path, Readeth therein the mighty power of God Who sealeth thus the scroll of skies with stars, And prints his love in never-failing light. Refulgent orbs! are ye the spirit-isles, The heavenly homes of souls unchained from earth.? Yours the pure mansions girt with glory round, Unmade with hands, eternal in the heavens? It may be so. Ye only shine when man, Poor, clay-clad man, rests from his busy care; And when the toil of selfishness and sin Faints for a season and seeks rest by night, Ye mourn oer earth, outpouring dewy tears. Shine on! bright beacons of the upper deep; Send your mild radiance to our wearied souls, And light us onward, oer lifes troubled waves, To the calm islands of eternal rest.. *IAN MONTHLY RECORD. JULY, 1 832. POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. CONGRESS. The Pension Bill, which passed both Houses ofCongress, and has now become a law, enacts That each of the surviving officers, non-commissioned officers, mu- sicians, soldiers and Indian spies, who served in the Continental Line, or State Troops, Volunteers or Militia, at one or more terms, a period of two years, during the war of the revolution and who are not entitled to any benefit under the act for the relief of certain surviving officers and soldiers of the revolution, passed the 15th day of May, 1828, be authorized to receive, out of any money in the Treasury not other- wise appropriated, the amount of his full pay in the said line, according to his rank, but not exceeding in any case the pay of a captain, such pay to com- mence from the 4th day of March, 1831, and continue during his natural life; and that any such officer, non- commissioned officer, musician or pri- vate, who served a term or terms in the whole, less than the above period, but not less than six months, shallbeau- thorized to receive in the same manner an amount bearing such proportion to the annuity granted to the same rank for the service of two years, as his term of service did to the term aforesaid; to commence from date. rhe act also pro- vides that the officers, non-commission- ed officers, mariners, or marines, who served for a like term in the naval ser- vice during the revolutionary war, shall be entitled to the benefits of the act, in the same manner as is provided for the officers and soldiers of the army of the revolution. The .ipportionment Bill, having passed the House of Representatives7 was amended in the Senate, apportion- ing the representatives among the sev VOL. Iii. 9. eral states agreeably to the principlst proposed by Mr. Webster, [see N. E. Mag. for April, p. 339] and returned t& the House. The bill was then referred to a committee, of which Mr. Polk was chairman, who made a long and elabo- rate report against the new bill, and recommending a non-concurrence with the Senate. Mr. E. Everett, from the minority of the committee, made a counter-report, sustaining the principle of the new bill. After a brief debate, the House voted to adhere to the origi- nal bill, and returned the new one to the Senate, non-concurred. The Sen- ate subsequently receded from their amendi~nent, and passed the original bill, by which the representation for the next ten years is thus apportioned Maine, - - New-Hampshire, Massachusetts~ - Ithode-Island, - Connecticut, - Vermont, - - ~New-York, - New-Jersey, - ~~Pennsylvania, - Delaware; - - Maryland, - - Virginia, - - North-Carolina, - South-Carolina,. - Georgia, - - Kentucky, - - Tennessee, - - Ohio, - - - Jndtsna, - - Missouri, - Illinois, - - Louisiana, - - Missouri, - - Alkbama, - - - - - - -8 5 12 0 6 5 40 6 28 - - - - -1 8 - - - - - 21 13 9 9 13 13 19 7 2 - - - - -2 3 - - - - -2 5 240 Patents. A bill has been discussed in the Senate, providing for the appoint- ment of a Recorder of the Patent Office, and prescribing the manner in which patents shall be issued. Mr. Forsyth moved to strike out. the whole

Politics and Statistics Monthly Record 65-76

MONTHLY RECORD. JULY, 1 832. POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. CONGRESS. The Pension Bill, which passed both Houses ofCongress, and has now become a law, enacts That each of the surviving officers, non-commissioned officers, mu- sicians, soldiers and Indian spies, who served in the Continental Line, or State Troops, Volunteers or Militia, at one or more terms, a period of two years, during the war of the revolution and who are not entitled to any benefit under the act for the relief of certain surviving officers and soldiers of the revolution, passed the 15th day of May, 1828, be authorized to receive, out of any money in the Treasury not other- wise appropriated, the amount of his full pay in the said line, according to his rank, but not exceeding in any case the pay of a captain, such pay to com- mence from the 4th day of March, 1831, and continue during his natural life; and that any such officer, non- commissioned officer, musician or pri- vate, who served a term or terms in the whole, less than the above period, but not less than six months, shallbeau- thorized to receive in the same manner an amount bearing such proportion to the annuity granted to the same rank for the service of two years, as his term of service did to the term aforesaid; to commence from date. rhe act also pro- vides that the officers, non-commission- ed officers, mariners, or marines, who served for a like term in the naval ser- vice during the revolutionary war, shall be entitled to the benefits of the act, in the same manner as is provided for the officers and soldiers of the army of the revolution. The .ipportionment Bill, having passed the House of Representatives7 was amended in the Senate, apportion- ing the representatives among the sev VOL. Iii. 9. eral states agreeably to the principlst proposed by Mr. Webster, [see N. E. Mag. for April, p. 339] and returned t& the House. The bill was then referred to a committee, of which Mr. Polk was chairman, who made a long and elabo- rate report against the new bill, and recommending a non-concurrence with the Senate. Mr. E. Everett, from the minority of the committee, made a counter-report, sustaining the principle of the new bill. After a brief debate, the House voted to adhere to the origi- nal bill, and returned the new one to the Senate, non-concurred. The Sen- ate subsequently receded from their amendi~nent, and passed the original bill, by which the representation for the next ten years is thus apportioned Maine, - - New-Hampshire, Massachusetts~ - Ithode-Island, - Connecticut, - Vermont, - - ~New-York, - New-Jersey, - ~~Pennsylvania, - Delaware; - - Maryland, - - Virginia, - - North-Carolina, - South-Carolina,. - Georgia, - - Kentucky, - - Tennessee, - - Ohio, - - - Jndtsna, - - Missouri, - Illinois, - - Louisiana, - - Missouri, - - Alkbama, - - - - - - -8 5 12 0 6 5 40 6 28 - - - - -1 8 - - - - - 21 13 9 9 13 13 19 7 2 - - - - -2 3 - - - - -2 5 240 Patents. A bill has been discussed in the Senate, providing for the appoint- ment of a Recorder of the Patent Office, and prescribing the manner in which patents shall be issued. Mr. Forsyth moved to strike out. the whole Politics and ~S~tatistics. bill, after the enacting words, and to insert an authority to use a fac simile, and the employment of a private Secre- tary of the President, to be employed in its use. Mr. Poindexter moved to amend the amendment, by introducing the words for the time being, after the words Pre~sident of the United States, and by adding a provision that each President, at the end of his term of service, shall cause the fac simile to be destroyed. Mr. Forsyth accepted the amendment. The change of sys- tem was advocated by Mr. Clay, who said that by the present mode an un- reasonable amount of mechanical labor was imposed on the Chief Magistrate, interfering with duties of an intellec- tual character. He wished the friends of the administration to settle the mode among themselves, and pledged him- self on this question to support the ad- ministration with all possible zeal. Mr. Poindexter opposed the principle of substituting any other signature to transfers of the public domain, than that of the President himself. He pre- ferred the adoption of a fac simile. It was stated by Mr. King and Mr. For- syth, that there were near 10,000 pa- tents lying before the President, wait- ing for his signature, and 40,000 others were prepared. Mr. Ewing preferred the fac simile mode to the other. The amendment was opposed by Mr. Bibb, who stated that he never would author- ize a Chief Magistrate, on the pretence that he had not time to sign his name, to have a fac simile made of his own name. The amendment of Mr. For- syth was then agreed to, Yeas 21, Nays 20. The bill was then laid on the table and has not since been called up. United States Bank. A bill renew- in~r and modifying the charter of the Uiiited States Bank has passed the Senate, but has not yet received the definitive action of the House of Rep- resentatives. The Tariff The House of Repre- sentatives has been almost daily, for some weeks, engaged in discussing vari- ous projects for modifying the Tariff; but no bill has yet been brought to maturity. Steam-Boat Explosions. In the House of Representatives, May 18, Mr. Wick- life, from a select committee, to which the subject had been referred, made a report, accompanied by a bill to pro- vide for the better security of the lives of passengers on board of vessels pro- pelled in whole or in part by steam. The committee express in the com mencement of their report the opinion that Congress have no constitutional power to prescribe the mode or form of vessels, or the principles upon which they shall be propelled. They affirm that it is beyond the rightful legislation of the Government to interfere at all in directing the mode of construction of steam-boats or steam-engines. They limit the power of Congress to an in- spection and regulation of vessels and boilers, as a condition upon which a registry shall be made or license granted under the laws of the United States. The causes to which the explosions of steam-boilers has been referred by sci- entific and practical men, are stated by the Committee. The most obvious are faulty construction of boilers, defective materials, and age. These are control- able in some degree by legislation, and the Committee consider that the ap- pointment of officers at suitable points upon the navigable rivers, & c. of the United States, to inspect boats and boilers, and test the strength of the lat- ter by hydraulic pressure, will be suffi- cient to detect and remove all danger from these causes. This examination is to be made every three months. To enforce this suggestion, it is remarked that in the West, experience has proved that a steam-boat after six or seven years of navigation is unfit for use, and that. the original strength of its ma- chinery must, under the same circum- stances, diminish very much. Besides this, there does not, so far as the Com- mittee learn, exist, in any part of the United States, any system or practice by which the strength of steam-boilers is tested ; and generally, the first evi- dence of its defects is an explosion or collapse. To these causes of steam- boat accidents, the Committee add sev- eral others, for which they offer no pre- ventive measures, some of them being beyond their powers,belonging to the municipal control of the states, and others being beyond any control except that of care and science. These are principally, carelessness or want of skill in engineers; an undue pressure of steam beyond the capacity of the boiler, although sound in its construction and perfect in material; and lastly, a defi- ciency in the supply of water, producing an overheated steam, and increasing the heat of the flues, tha consequence of which is that when water in increas- ed quantity is thrown in by the supply purflp, a quantity of steam is produced, which occasions disastrous explosions. The Committee repeat the complaint so frequently made against steamboats, 66 Politics and Statistics. that when they are stopped at landing places, on their way, the engineer often neglects to ungear his wheels, and keep the engine in motion, trusting to the safety valve and the strength of the boiler. Thus it is that explosions fre- quently take place while the boat is stationary, or immediately after getting under way. To guard against such ac- cidents, it is proposed to impose a heavy penalty upon the master and engineer who neglect, when the boat is station- ary, to ungear the wheels, and work off the steam. In connexion with rthis subject, the committee have inquired into other causes of danger by steam-hoats, among which aredanger by fire, and by con- tact in the night when coining in oppo- site directions. As precautions against the first terrible calamity, it is recom- mended that every hoat should be com- pelled to keep itself provided with a sufficient number of boats and yawls, according to its tonnage, for the escape of the passengers, and a suitable fire engine and hose, as part of the furni- ture. To prevent the other danger, that of contact in the night, the report suggests that a light should be suspend- ad in the ows of every boat, at least three feet above deck, and that on the Western waters, the descending boat should be compelled to let off her steam and float with the current, whenever two boats come within a half mile of each other. The Committee state as the result of their investigations into the number and extent of steam-boat disas- ters, that there have been fifty-two ex- plosions in the United States, by which two hundred and fifty-six persons have been killed, and one hundred and four wounded. Tue Public Lands. In a former num- ber of the Magazine we presented a sketch of Mr. Clays Report on the Pub- lic Lands. The following is a similar abstract of a Report made to the House of Representatives on the same subject, by Mr. Wickliffe,taking a somewhat different view of it This report expresses a decided oppo- sition to the views of the Secretary of the Treasury, upon the subject of dis- posing of the public lands in the seve- ral states in which they respectively are situated, and of a division of the pro- ceeds of the sale thereof among the several states. The public lands are regarded, in the report, as one of the sources of public revenue, and the proceeds arising from the sales thereof are argued to be as much the public revenue as the pro- ceeds of the custom-house. The power of Congress is said to be the same over both, and the one can be as well divided out among the states, for state purposes, as the other. The power so to divide either is denied by the report. The report preceeds upon the pre- sumption, that the law of Congress, and the changes of the system by which the United States have acquired and dis- posed of the public lands, are under- stood by the community. The commit- tee has, therefore, refrained from going much into detail on these points. There is, however, attached to this report, some tabular statements, which will be of great utility to those who are in pur- suit of accurate and detailed informa- tion as to the costs and expenditures on account of the public lands, the quan- tity sold and unsold in each state and territory, and (what has not before been published) a statement of the amount abated or relinquished by the United States of the purchase money of the public lands, (sold under the credit sys- tem.) by the operation of the Relief Laws of 1t121,2,3, & c. and 1830; by which statement it appears, that the whole number of acres relinquished was 4,602,573 11-100; the purchase money due on the same being stated to have been $14,983,631 10. The report assumes it to be the duty of Congress to reduce the revenue of the Government to the reasonable demands of the public service, after the payment of the National debt. This reduction, it is earnestly recommended, should be made at the present session of Congress. The committee declare themselves to be opposed to the abstraction of the pro- ceeds of the sale of the public lands from the revenue of the Government, but urge that the price of the public lands should be reduced for the twofold pur- pose, first, of reducing the amount of revenue derived from the sales thereof, and, secondly, with the view of placing it more immediately within the power of every man, however poor, to acquire a home for his family. The report adverts to the effects upon the Western states of annually with- drawing so much money from the West as the price of these lands amounts to, and expending it in other portions under the presentsystem. miti~gated, as it has often been, by the justice and liberality of the National Legislature; and depeecates the state of things Which it declares to be inevitable, should the funds arising from the sales of the public lands be divided in any 67 68 Politics and Statistics. form, and in any ratio, among the sev- eral states for state purposes. The Report recommends that Con- gress should retain the unrestricted control of the public domain, and that the national legislation over the same should be guarded by a policy which shall regard it rather as a mean to build up flourishing communities, than as a profitable source of revenue to the General Government, or of wealth to the individual states. POLITICAL cONvENTIONS. The Young Mens .TVationai Republican Convention, pursuant to notice, assem- bled in the city of Washington, on the first Monday in May. It wks composed of about three hundred delegates, from the states of Maine, New-Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode-Island, Connecticut, New-York, New-Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, South-Carolinia, Ohio, Ken- tucky, Louisiana, and from the District of Columbia. It was organized by the choice of WILLIAM C. JOHNSON of Mary- land, President; WILLIAM Lusn of New- York, CHARLES J. FAULKNER of Vir- ginia, WILLIAM P. FESSENDEN of Maine, and GEORGE W. BURNETT of Ohio, Vice-Presidents; GEORGE P. MOLLESON of New-Jersey, and J. R. ANGELL of Rhode-Island, Secretaries. The Conven- tion held its sittings daily through the week. Resolutions were unanimously passed, approving the nomination of HENRY CLAY, and Jon~ SERGEANT, as candidates for President and Vice-Presi- dent; and another, approving the wisdom and firmness of the Senate of the United States in rejecting the nomi- nation of Martin Van Buren as minister to Great-Britain. Mr. Clay, having re- ceived an invitation to visit the Conven- tion, and it having been announced that he was in the ante-room, a com- mittee introduced him to the presiding officer, who thus addressed him Sir: As the organ, and in the name of the National Republican Young Men in this convention assembled, I welcome your presence on this interesting occa- sion, and tender to you, in their behalf, the respects, the gratitude, and the ad- miration of those that surround you. Your private worth and public services have placed you before themthe object of their patriotic labors and hopes. Aboutto close the duties that brought us together, we could not, as a body, separate, without this offering of our feelings and sentiments to the man whose name and principles are aSsocia- ted with the liberty and glory of our be- loved country With such a name, and such princi- ples, we go forth united and active in a great causeand feel assured that, in an appeal to the Young Men of America, the CONSTITUTION and HENRY CLAY will be triumphant. To which Mr. Clay responded as fol- lows: Mr. President and Gentleneen of the Convention: In conformity with your resolution, communicated through a Committee of your body, I have the honor of present- ing myself before you; and I avail my- self of the occasion to express the deep and grateful sense which I entertain for the distinguished proofs which you have on this, and other days of your session, given to me of your esteem and confi- dence. Should I be called by the peo- ple of the United States to the adminis- tration of their Executive Government, it shall be my earnest endeavor to fulfil their expectations; to maintain, with firmness and dignity, their interests and honor abroad; to eradicate every abuse and corruption at home; and to uphold, with vigor, and equality, and jllstice, the supremacy of the Constitution and the Laws. Our greatest interest, in this world, is our liberty. Derived from our ances- tors, by whose valor and blood it was established, it depends upon the vigi- lance, virtue, and intelligence, of the present generation, whether it shall be preserved and transmitted to posterity, as tile most precious of all earthly pos- sessions. Next to that, in importance, is our Union, indissolubly connected with it, also derived from the fathers of our country. But what we want is a practical, efficient, and powerful Union; one that shall impartially enforce the laws towards all; whether individuals or communities, who are justly subject to their authority: a Union which, if it shall ever be deemed necessary to chide one member of the Confederacy, for rash and intemperate expressions, threat- ening its disturbance, will snatch violat- ed laws and treaties from beneath the feet of another member, and deliver the Free Citizens of the United States from unjust and ignominious imprisonment. Gentlemen, it belongs to you, and the young men of your age, to decide whether these great blessings of Liberty and Union shall be defended and pre- served. The responsibility which at- taches to you is immense. It is not our own country alone that will be affected by the result of the great experiment of self-government which will be shortly committed exclusively to your hands. The eyes of all civilized nations are in- Politics and Statistics. 69 tensely gazing upon is; and it may be truly asserted that the fate of Liberty, throughout the world, mainly depends upon the maintenance ofAmerican Lib- erty. May you, gentlemen, be deeply penetrated with the magnitude of the sacred trust confided to you. May you transfuse into the bosoms of your con- temporaries the enthusiasm which burns in your own; and may the career, on which you are all just entering, be long, and happy, and illustrious On Saturday morning the Convention adjourned: Agreeably to previous ar- rangement, at half past nine oclock, the members, preceded by their officers, marched in procession to a steam-boat, on which they embarked, and proceeded down the Potomac, to the shores of the place where lie deposited the relics of the great patriot and warrior of our country. On landing at Mount Vernon, the procession resumed tbe order in which it embarked, and moved, uncov- ered,in solemn silence, to the sacred depository of the Remains of the illus- trious Washington. Mr. Flag, of South- Carolina, then read to his associates the last admonitory counsels of the Father of his Country. Baltimore Convention. On the 21st of May, a convention of delegates from all the states, composed of the friends of the administration, assembled at Balti- more, for the purpose of nominating a candidate for the Vice-Presidency, to be placed on the ticket with General Jack- son for President: Of this body Gen. ROBERT LucAs of Ohio, was chosen President; Peter V. DANIEL of Virginia, 1st Vice-President; JAMES FENNER of Rhode-Island, 2d Vice-President; JOHN M. BARELEY of Pennsylvania, 3d Vice- President; A. S. CLAYTON of Georgia, 4th Vice-President; JOHN A. Dix of New-York, STACY G. POTTS of New- Jersey, ROBEaT J. WARD of Kentucky, Secretaries. After debate, it was voted that each state be entitled, in the nomi- nation to be made of a Candidate for the Vice-Presidency, to a number of votes equal to the number to which they will be entitled in the Electoral Colleges, under the new apportionment, in voting for President and Vice-President; and that two thirds of the whole number of the votes in the Convention shall be necessary to constitute a choice. It was also voted that the candidate for the Vice-Presidency shall be designated by the ballot or ballots ofthe person or per- sons selected for this purpose, by the respective delegations without nomina- tion in Conventionand that if a choice is not had upon the first balloting, the respective delegations shall retire and prepare for a second ballotting, and con- tinue this mode of voting, until a selec- tion is made. The Convention then proceeded to ballot for a candidate for the Vice-Presi- dency, which being concluded, it ap- peared that MARTIN -VAN BUREN had received the following votes: From Connecticut 8 votes; illinois 2; Ohio 21; Tennessee 15; North-Carolina 9; Georgia ii; Louisania 5; Pennsylvania 30; Maryland 7; New-Jersey 8; Mis- sissippi 4; Rhode-Island 7; Maine 10; Massachusetts 14; Delaware 3; New- Hampshire 7; New-York 42; Vermont 7; Alabama 1being in all 208. That RICHARD M. JOHNSON had received the following votes: From Illinois 2 votes; Indiana 9; Kentucky 15being in all 26 votes. That PHILIP P. BARBOUR had received the following votes: From North-Carolina 6 votes; Virginia 23; Maryland 3; South-Carolina 11, and Alabama 6 votesbeing in the whole 49 votes. MARTIN VAN BUREN, hav- ing received a majority of more than two-thirds of all the votes given, was declared to be selected as the candidate nominated by the Convention for the Vice-Presidency. Subsequently, the delegations from Virginia, Kentucky, and Indiana, de- clared their concurrence in the vote of the majority. A committee, consisting of one from each state was appointed to draft an address to the people of the United States. Mr. Archer of Vir- ginia, chairman of this committee, after- wards reported that the committee, hav- ing interchanged opinions on the sub- ject, submitted to them, and agreeing fully in the principles and sentiments which they believe ought to be embodied in an address of this description, if such an address were to be made, neverthe- less deem it advisable, under existing circumstances, to recommend the adop tion of the following resolution: Resolved, That it be recommended to the several delegations in this Conven- tion, in place of a general address from this body to the people of the United States, to make such explanations by address, report, or otherwise, to their respective constituents, of the objects, proceedings and result of the meeting, as they may deem expedient. Which report and resolution were read and adopted unanimously. A gen- eral corresponding committee for each state was appointed. Votes of thanks to the President, Vice-Presidents, and Secretaries, were passed. A resolution that the Convention should visit the Politics and Statistics. venerable Charles Carroll, was adopted; and another, thanking the Clergy for their attendance ; after which the Con- vention adjourned, sine die. NEW-HAMPSHIRE. The Legislature of this state met at Concord on the first Wednesday in June. The Senate chose Benning M. Bean, President; Charles G. Atherton, Clerk; and John Whipple, Assistant Clerk. In the House of Representatives, Frank- lin Pierce was elected Speaker, having 205 votes of 208. James Clark was chosen Clerk, and Horace Chase, As- sistant Clerk. The whole number of votes legally returned for Governor was 39 233~ of which Governor Dinsmoor had 24,167, and was re-elected. Ichabod Bartlett had 14,920, and there were 146 scattered on the day of the general election, (so called.) It is understood the usual military parade and election sermon were dispensed with. On Thurs- day, the Governor communicated, by Message, a partial exposition of the af- fairs of the State. The Message states that it will be necessary, under existing laws, for the Legislature again to as- semble in the autumn, to determine the choice of Electors of President and Vice President of the United Sfates. It was therefore suggested that the session might have a speedy termination. MASSACHUSETTS. ANNIvERsATuEs. The last week in the month of May, is the season appro- priated for the anniversary meetings of numerous Religious and Benevolent So- cieties in the city of Boston. The fol- lowing notices of the celebrations of some of the most prominent of these in- stitutions, are epitomized from their se- veral reports, or from extended accounts in the newspapers of the week. Massachusetts Bible Society. The twenty-third annual meeting was held on Monday, May 28th, at which the usual business was transacted and the Reports made. The Officers chosen were Rev. JOHN PIERcE, D. D. Presi- dent; Rev. HENRY WARE, D. D. Vice President; Rev. FRANCIs PAREHAN, Corresponding Secretary; Rev. WILL- IAM JENKs, D. D. Recording Secre- tary ; Messrs. JOHN TAPPAN, Treasurer; HENRY EDWARDS, Assistant Treas- urer; EDWARD TIJcKERMAN, Auditor. Trustees. Rev. Abiel Holmes, Chas. Lowell, William Jenks, John Codman, Daniel Sharp, James D. Knowles, N. L. Frothingham, F. W. P. Greenwood; Messrs. Joseph May, Heman Lincoln, $amuel Hubbard, N. P. Russell, Jona than Phillips, Samuel May, Edward Tuckerman, John Fenno, Win. Worth- ington, Pliny Cutler. Sabbath School Union. A proposal to dissolve the Massachusetts Sabbath School Union, was submitted to a Con- vention of Delegates from Baptist and Congregational Churches, assembled for the purpose in the Park-street Vestry, when the dissolution was unanimously agreed on. The details of the settle- ment respecting the joint property were committed to the Board of both denomi- nations, as it existed before the dissolu- tion. The Congregational Life-mem- bers and Delegates of the Union met in the Park-street Vestry on Wednesday, for the purpose of forming a new State Society. A Constitution was adopted, and the following officers chosen: Pre- sident, William Reed, Marblehead. Vice Presidents, Rev. Warren Pay, Charles- town, Rev. Alvan Hyde, Lee, Lewis Strong, Northampton. Secretary, Geo. E. Head, Boston. Treasurer, Charles Scudder, Boston. Alanagers, Reverend Samuel Green, Charles Stoddard, John Gulliver, Rev. Rufus Anderson, Julius A. Palmer, Boston; W. B. Bannister, Brookfield, Rev. Sylvester Holmes, N. Bedford, Reverend Gardiner B. Perry, Bradford, Rev. Milton Badger, Ando- ver; Samuel H. Archer, Salem; Rev. John Maltby, Sutton; Rev. Nehemiah Adams, Cambridge. American Unitarian Association. The Seventh Anniversary of this Associa- tion took place on the evening of Tues- day, the 29th. After the acceptance of the Treasurers Report, the following gentlemen were elected officers for the ensuing year Rev. Dr. Bancroft, President; Messrs. Joseph Story, Massachusetts; Joseph Lyman, do. ; Charles H. Atherton, New-Hampshire; Stephen Longfellow, Maine; William Cranch, District of Columbia; Samuel S. Wilde, Massa- chusetts; Samuel Hoar, do.; William Sullivan, do.; Henry Wheaton, New- York; James Taylor, Pennsylvania; Martin L. Hurlbut, do.; IJenry Payson, Maryland; Rev. Timothy Flint, Ohio, Vice-Presidents; Rev. James Walker, Samuel Barrett, Ezra S. Gannett, Di- rectors; Rev. Henry Ware, Jun., For- eign Secretary; Rev. Alexander Young, Domestic Secretary ; Henry Rice, Treasurer. The Association adjourned at seven oclock to the Federal-street Church. the Executive Committees Annual Re- ports were read by Rev. Mr. Young, the Domestic Secretary, and by Rev. Mr. Politics and Statistics. 71 Barrett, for Professor Ware, Jr. the Foreign Secretary. The Reports, which were both of them able and highly in- teresting papers, communicated much information in regard to the spread of Unitarian Christianity during the past year, and its prospects for the futnre, both in this country and abroad. After the reading of the Reports the meeting was briefly addressed by Rev. Dr. Ban- croft, the President, Rev. Messrs. Bige- low, Lothrop, Sewall, and Judge Story. At five oclock on Thursday evening a meeting of the Association for business, was held in the Berry-street Vestry. After a full discussion of the expedien- cy of adopting measures for the appoint- ment of a General Agent, they voted to proceed immediately to the choice, and on counting the votes, Rev. Ezra S. Gannett was found to be unanimously elected. The Sunday School Society held its public annual meeting in the Federal- Street Church. An interesting Report was read by Dr. Flagg, in which the condition and prospects of the Sunday schools connected with Unitarian par- ishes, both in the city and out of it, were represented as being highly en- couraging to the friends of these insti- tutions. After the reading of the Re- port the meeting was addressed by Messrs. William Sullivan of Boston, Solomon Lincoln of Hiagham, S. C. Phillips of Salem, Rev. C. Brooks of Hingham, Rev. S. J. May of Brooklyn, Conn. Rev. F. A. Farly of Providence, R. I. Rev. A. B. Muzzey of Framing- ham, and Rev. E. T. Taylor of Boston. The Convention of Congregational Ministers met according to long estab- lished usage, at 5 oclock in the after- noon of Wednesday. Mr. Wisner was re-elected Scribe, and Mr. Young chos- en Treasurer in place of Mr. Frothing- ham, who had resigned. The usual busi- ness of the Convention was transacted with harmony. Prof. Stuart of An- dover was chosen second preacher for the next year, and the Convention ad- journed to the next morning. On Thursday, after attending to the cus- tomary business, the members proceed- ed at 11 oclock to the Brattle-street church, where a sermon was preached by Mr. Jenks of Boston. After the ser- mon a collection was taken, amounting to $96 25. A large number of the Convention dined together at the Ex- change Coffee-House, where a dinner had been provided by the liberality of gentlemen of this city. The Prison Discipline Society met at the Park-street Meeting-house. In the absence of the President, Samuel T. Armstrong, the chair was taken by John Tappan, one of the Vice-Presidents. The Treasurers Report was read and accepted. The receipts of the Society for the year were $2915 53; expendi- tures, $3035; balance due the treasurer, $119 47. Louis Dwight, Secretary of the Society, read parts from the annual report, which, on motion of Alexander H. Everett, seconded by the Rev. John Pierpont, was accepted and ordered to be published under the direction of the Secretary. The Massachusetts Society for the Sup- pression of Intemperance held its twen- tieth anniversary in St. Pauls church. The Hon. William Sullivan delivered an address on the origin and evils of in- temperance. A public meeting of the Society was held on Thursday evening, at the Masonic Temple, when Mr. Hil- dreth, agent of the Society, read a Re- port, and remarks were made by Dr. John C. Warren, President, Hon. Jona- than Phillips, Rev. Prof. Paifrey, John Tappan, Esq. Rev. John Pierpont, Dr. Shattuck, Rev. E. S. Gannett ,H. Gray, Esq. Dr. Walter Channing, S. Fair- banks, Esq. and others. The .11/merican Temperance Society held its meeting in the Park-street Church, Hon. Samuel Hubbard, one of the Vice- Presidents, in the Chair. Extracts from the annual report were read by the Rev. Dr. Edwards, Secretary of the Society. The last report of the society was stere- otyped; 10,000 copies have been print- ed, and most of them distributed. They have been sent to all parts of the United States; to the British North-American Colonies; to England, Scotland, Ire- land, France, Switzerland, Germany, Sweden; to Eastern and Southern Asia, to the Sandwich Islands, & c. & c. In London it has been reprinted entire. Three state societies have been formed during the year; and state societies now exist in all the states of the Union, except Alabama, Louisiana, and Mis- souri. The whole number of societies in this country is supposed to be at least 4,000, and the number of members not less than 500,000. There are as many as 100,000 members of societies in Great-Britain and heland. The prin- cipal object of the report was, to show the enormous wickedness of th~ traffic in ardent spirit, and the duty of Chris- tians and Christian churches in regard to it. The Rev. Dr. Hewit appeared as the Foreign Secretary, for the United States, of the British and Foreign Tem- perance Society. His object was to show the expediency and duty of send- Politics and Statistics. ing out from this country some well- qualified person, to England, to act as agent of the British and Foreign Tem- perance Society, in establishing Tem- perance Societies in all the capitals of Europe. Bunker Hilt Monument qssociation. At a meeting of tile Bunker Hill Mon- ument Association) held at Faneuil Hall on the morning of the 18th of June, Dr. Abner Phelps took the Chair, as President, and the Association pro- ceeded to the choice of a Secretary pro tem. N. P. Russell, Esq. was chosen. Messrs. William Sullivan, Joseph Cool- idge, Alexander H. Everett, Pliny Cut- ler, and David Kimball were chosen a committee to collect, sort and count the votes for the officers of the society. for the ensuing year. The committee reported that the whole number of votes was 455, and that the following gentle- men having more than 400 votes each, were elected to the respective offices: William Prescott, President; John C. Warren, William Sullivan, Vice-Presi- dents; Edward G. Prescott, Secretary; Nathaniel P. Russell, Treasurer. Di- rectors. Nathan Appleton, Samuel T. Armstrong, Ebenezer Breed, Josiah Bradlee, John B. Brown, Thomas B. Curtis, Henry A. S. Dearborn, David Devens, Edward Everett, John Fores- ter, James K. Frothingham, Thomas J. Goodwin, Nathan Hale, Nathaniel Hammond, John Harris ,Abbott Law- rence, Samuel Lawrence, Francis J. Oliver, Francis Peabody, Thomas H. Perkins, Stephen C. Phillips, Leverett Saltonstall, Robert G. Shaw, John Skinner, Win. W. Stone, Israel Thorn- dike, Joseph Tilden, Nathan Tufts, Charles Wells, John D. Williams. Manufactures in Mid esex. At a meeting of Farmers, Manufacturers, and Mechanics, held at Concord, on the 13th of June, sundry resolutions were adopted, remonstrating against a relin- quishment of the protective system. In the preamble to these resolutions it is stated that, in the county of Middle- sex, the cotton manufacture employs $3,129,000 capital, vested in real estate, and machinery; consumes 6,913,880 pounds of cotton; produces annually 20,378,849 yards cloth; employs 3896 hands; pays in wages $731,751. In the same county the woollen manufac- ture employs $394,999 capital, vested in real estate and machinery; consumes 899,000 pounds wool; produces annual- ly 849,300 yards woollen cloth, flannels and carpeting, employs 653 hands; and pays in wages $152,041. The manufac- tures of leather, boots, shoes, hats) pa- per, glass, sheet lead, lead pipe, iron, starch, gunpowder, soap, candles, drugs, oil vitriol, and other acids, barilla and other chemicals, used in the county by bleachers, dyers, calico-printers, soap- boilers, and other artizans, are more ex- tex~ive than in any other section of our country of equal extent, employing in the aggregate $1,050,255 capital, vested in real estate, machinery, tools, & c. and producing manufactured articles of the annual value of $3,565,613.* Census of Lowell. A census of this place was taken on the first of June by order of the town, which exhibited the following result White Males under 10 years of age, from 10to20 - - 20to30 30to40 - 40to50 50to60 - over 60 - - - - 703 - 563 - 1996 - 720 - 206 - 62 - 27 4279 - - 771 - - 1465 - - 2713 - - 638 - - 238 - - 83 - - 52 5955 Total, - - 10,234 - - S - - 3 - - 3 - - 1 Total, - - 12 - - 1 - - 1 - - 3 - - 3 Total, - - 8 It will be seen by this enumeration that the whole population on the first of June was 10,254; of which 5955 are fe- males. By the enumeration in January 1828, there were 3532; of which 2190 were females. By the census of June 12, 1830, there were 6477; of which 4085 were females. It will be seen that the in- crease from January, 1828, to June, 1830, * Since the resolutions referred to were pub- lished, a gentleman concerned in the manufac- tories at Lowell, has informed the editors that the statement here gtven falls far below the truth, and has given the following as a corrected statement. The whole capital invested is $6,250,000 giving employment to nearly 4000 hands, who receive wages to the amount of $750,000, and make 22,000,000 yards of cloth, using 7,000,000 pounds of cotton annually. It is probable that an accurate statement of the condition of other branches of manufacture would also be found greatly to exceed the amount stated in the pre- amble mentioned a ye. White Females under 10 years, from 10 to 20 20 to 30 30to40 40 to 50 50 to 60 over 60 - Colored Males from 10 to 20 - 20to30 - 30to40 40to50 - Colored Females under 10 - from 10 to 20 20 to 30 30to40 Politics and Statistics. being one year and five months, was 2945; and from June, 1830 to June, 1832, 3777. The proportion of females is not so great as by the former census. RHODE-ISLAND. CITY OF PROVIDENCE. The organi- zation of the City Government of Prov- idence took place at the Court House on the second Monday of June. The oaths of office were administered to the Mayor and Aldermen by the President of the Toww.Council, and by the Mayor to the members of the Common Council. Richard M. Field, late Town Clerk, was unanimously chosen City Clerk. The Mayor delivered, his In- augural Address in tile presence of a large audience. He spoke of the newly adopted form, as one not tending to impair the rights of the people, and stated the object in obtaining the Char- ter to have been, not to obtain more power, but to administer the power already possessed with more prudence, economy, and energy. A. great part of the Address consisted of an appropriate and lucid exposition of the powers and duties of the n w officers. After the Address, the yor and Aldermen retired to the Senate Chamber, and the Common Council was organized by the appointment of Mr. George Baker, President, and Mr. Thomas B. Fenner, Clerk. CONNECTICUT. THE SCHOOL FUND. The following facts are taken from the report of the Commissioner of the School Fund, made to the legislature, at its late session, as abridged in the Hartford Review. The whole Capital, as ascertained on the 1st of April, 1831, consisted of the following itelns: 1. Bonds, Contracts and Mortga ges, $1,493,716 49 9. Bank Stnck, - - 99,950 00 3. Cultivated Lands and Build- ings, 196,595 90 4. Wild Lands, - - - 164,144 60 5. Stock and Farming Utensils, 1,390 00 6. Cash on hand of principal, - 17,930 95 Amount of Capital, - - - $1,902,957 87 The subjoined table shews the num- ber of children in the state, between four and sixteen years of age, as enu- merated in August, 1831, and the amount of dividends made in the year ending March 31st, 1832. tjhildren. Dividends. Hartford County, - - 14,467 13,090 30 New-Haven - - 11,919 10,797 10 New-London - - 19,999 11,006 30 Fairfield - - 13,308 11,977 90 Windham - - 8,007 7,906 30 Litchdeld - - 19,939 11,015 10 Middlesex - - 7,999 6,569 10 Tolland - - 5,697 5,064 30 85,095 76,585 50 VOL. ill. 10 By the following table, showing the number of children between four and sixteen years of age, returned from the years 1820 to 1831, both inclusive, it would appear, that the number of per- sons in this state, between the above ages has decreased since 1824, and that it increased during the past year but five. Whether such is actually the fact, we are unable to say. No. of Children returned in 1890 was 84 179 1891 85,017 1899 84,945 1893 84 930 1824 85 198 1895 85,167 3896 85 163 1897 85,147 1898 84 899 1899 85006 1830 85 090 1831 85,095 PENNSYLVANIA. Tiec Legislature of this state recently adopted the following Resolutionsthe House of Representatives, unanimous- ly; the Senate 20 to 12. Resolved, ~.c. That we view with the most serious apprehension any attempt to lessen the restrictions upon the mm- portation of any articles of foreign manufacture, or production, which may compete with articles of similar growth, production, or manufactures of the United States.. That a reduction of duties upon arti- cles, the like of which are neither man- ufactured or produced in the United States, or which does not materially affect the industry of tile country, would meet the approbation of our con- stituents. That the People of Pennsylvania never can consent to an abandonment of the Protective System. That if a reduction of the revenue becomes necessary, we should prefer a prohibition of the introduction of arti- cles of foreign fabric and production, the like of which we are successfully manufacturing and ~sroducing, to any reduction upon protected articles which we can produce and manufacture as cheaply and as good amongst ourselves. That we view the American System, as a whole, which requires the united and concentrated operation of its friends against all attempts to attack it in de- tail, and that no steps should be taken to preserve one portion of it at the ex- pense of another. That the confidence of one interest in the aid and fellowship of another, is the true shield of safety of the friends of the protected industry, and that such confidence should be cultivated and re- lied on throughout the union. 73 74 Politics and ~S~tatistics. That connected as the prosperity of agriculture and manufactures are with the successful financial operations and sound currency of the country, we view the speedy re-chartering of the Bank of the United States as of vital importance to the public welfare. That the Governor be requested to transmit these resolutions to our repre- sentatives in Congress, to be laid before their respective bodies. OHIO. CINcINNATI COLLEGE. The Trustees of Cincinnati College have published an Address to the people of Ohio, from which we collect the following facts and statements The institution, known as the Cin- cinnati College, began, as a common school, organized on the Lancasterian plan, in connexion with a grammar school, in the year 1814, under the name of the Cincinnati Lancaster Semina- ry. In 1819, it was incorporated as a college, under its present title, with the understanding, that the preparatory schools were still to be kept up. The endowment of the College, existed in a subscription, liberal, indeed, when it is considered that it emanated from the enterprise of a few citizens of the city. But auspicious as this subscription was to the future prospects of the establish- ment, the sanguine hopes which were at first cherished by it were destroyed by the adverse circumstances which soon after pervaded Cincinnati and the west generally. Sufficient, however, was secured to finish the building, and, with subsequent rents, to pay all claims against the corporation. College classes were organized, with several professors, and the institution, under a variety of aspects, continued to exist until the year 1827, when, from the want of pecuniary means, all opera- tions were discontinued; the prepara- tory schools, which had also been sus- tained, ceased at the same time; and the edifice itself, or as much of it as was practicable, was rented out. The re- ceipts have not been regular, and by no means sufficient to keep the building in repair. Dilapidations, always great in proportion to the non-occupation of so large a house, have taken place; and this pile, founded under flattering aus- pices, presents now a spectacle in strong contrast with the other public buildings of the city. It is thought practicable by the Board of Trustees, in addition to what schools are to be carried on in the College, to create certain professorships or lecture- ships, on such different branches of science as may be found compatible with their means, with public taste, and the public wishes. It is designed to make most of these lectures accessible to the great mass of population, and so to arrange them, as to render them val- uable for the practical purposes of every class of society. The hope is cherished, that the Mechanics Institute, the Lyce- um, and the public library may be in- duced to connect their exertions with the college. It is felt to be bad policy, in such a society as ours, to divide and ramify public institutions, having the same great object in view. To produce proper effect, exertion ought to be con- centrated. The foundations of good libraries are already laid in the institu- tions before mentioned. When brought together, they will even now do credit to the city. The liberality of an indi- vidual has placed that valuable institu- tion, the Mechanics Institute, in pos- session of an excellent philosophical apparatus; public attention is awake, and much may be expected from public and private liberality, to associations in a united attitude, which might be look- ed for in vain when in a state of sepa- ration. From an estimate furnished, it is thought that about three thousand dol- lars will cover the requisite repairs, in- cluding such an alteration of the front, as will render it ornamental to the city. This amount it is believed can be raised without difficulty, if the benefits likely to flow from its application be properly appreciated. Individuals stand ready and pledged, to enter on the important duties of instruction; some, where ex- pense and trouble are involved, with no expectation of compensation but from their own exertions; others, looking to the good they may do, as a sufficient reward for the services they may render. With these prospects and facilities of creating one great Institution, in which shall centre the different Literary and Scientific Associations of Cincinnati, the Trustees cannot think it possible that such an edifice as the College will be longer suffered to attract attention by its unseemly aspect. With sanguine hopes of success, the Board now appeal to their fellow citizens, and ask them for such contributions as their several means may justify, and as the importance of the object merits. Education. There is a very interest- ing and valuable institution for the edu- cation of school teachers at Marietta, Ohio, which was established about two years since, and is capable of being ren Politics and Statistics. 75 dered of eminent benefit to the whole western country. Its origin was hum- ble, and it has risen to its present char- acter and importance, in consequence of the extreme want of capable teachers in that part of the country. It compre- hends a department of manual labor, which enables those young men who are disposed, to defray almost the whole expense of their education by the avails of their labor in the field; and which has enabled many to pass through the course by this means alone. Apparatus in four scientific branches have been obtained for $500, and the building is large and fine, on high ground, with piazzas towards the Ohio and Muskin- gum rivers. Able instructers of both sexes are engaged in the different branches. The pupils board in respect- able families. Females obtain their ed- ucation there, for school-teachers, for about 25 dollars a year; and there is abundant need of good schools of both sexes in all the Western states. iLLINOIS. INDIAN WAa. The frontiers of this state have been for some time in a fer- ment on account of the hostilities of the Indians. The first accounts of the progress and extent of these hostilities proves to be greatly exaggerated. There have been several murders, and almost daily intelligence of massacres on the defenceless inhabitants of the frontiers. A Missouri paper says The war is conducted by the savage enemy with all the cruelties and barbar- ities that have ever marked their con- flicts. Murder of the old ud the young, of the defenceless infant and unoffending woman, burning and devas- tation mark their course. Even de- struction does not satisfy their rage. Manglings of the dead bodies, and the most atrocious and disgusting indigni- ties follow the work of death. Fifteen persons, men, women, and children, were surprised and murdered at a set- tlement on Indian Creek (a tributary of Fox river) on the 20th ult. Two young women were suffered to live, but were carried off to Indian captivity. A small party of seven or eight men, led by Mr. St. Vram, the agent for the Sacs and Foxes, in endeavoring to make their way to the Head Quarters of the army, were suddenly attacked by a much superior number of Indians. Two of the party were killed. Mr. St. Vram when last seen by those who es- caped was fleeing, pursued by ten or twelve Indians; his fate is not yet known. His escape was barely possi- ble, and it is feared that he fell, another victim to the unsparing rage of the enemy. Reports have reached the sta- tion of the army, that several murders had been committed on citizens of Ver- million County on the Wabash. To a requisition for men, that district an- swered, that its inhabitants were re- quired at home to defend their property and friends. The latest accounts state that the Il- linois Militia, under the command of Gen. Whiteside, have disbanded and returned to their homes, their term of service having expired. About three hundred volunteered to remain in the fortifications at the Ottawa until the new levies should arrive. The number of the drafts made by the Governor, was about three thousand. General Atkin- son with the United States troops, was still in camp at Dixons or Ogees Ferry, on Rock river. Orders were received by the proper officers at this place to furnish transportation for the companies ordered from Cantonment Leavenworth. A steam-boat will be immediately despatched for that post, and the commanding General expects to be joined by this additional regular force, by the 16th instant. One hun- dred men have also been ordered from Fort Winnebago. In addition to this force, General Atkinson has called upon the Sioux and Menominees for one thousand war- riors. These tribes, immediately on the breaking out of the war, pressed their services on the whites, but were repulsed. They are burning to revenge their wrongs, real or supposed, on the hostile Indians, and would, probably, by their experience, habits, and endu- rance, be more efficient, opposed to their red brethren, than double their number of whites. Although their aid has been once declined, their animosity is strong enough to induce them to take part in the war, now that they are solicited. Apprehensions have been entertained that the tribes of the Winnebagoes and Pottawatomees had joined themselves with the Sacs and Foxes, the open and avowed enemy. But this is said to be erroneous. There is no doubt but that some of the young men of each of these tribes have taken part with the enemy, but the chiefs and principal part of the warriors remain neutral. 76 LITERARY NOTICES. Swallow Barn; or a Sojourn in the Old Dominion. It is reported, we know not on what authority, that this work is to be at- tributed to the author of the best polit- ical satire of our times, viz. The Breeches. The Breeches were not half so much worn as they deserved to be; but all who saw them pronounced their maker an artist of rare talent. The book before us will not diminish his reputation. Swallow Barn has no plot or story whatever. The author tells us, in his introductory remarks, that he did not intend to make one. He had great dif- ficulty, he says, to prevent himself from writing a novel. We wish he had made a novel of it. It was his intention to pass a few weeks in the Old Dominion, in order to portray the impressions which the scenery nnd people made upon him, in detached pictures, without connexion. We must not condemn a book because it is not an Iliad, or a Fielding or Waverly novelit is unjust to expect an author to perform more than he avowedly undertakes. Swal- low Barn is entitled to th praise of being all that it professes to be. Still,we know not what to call it. It is not a poem, though rich in the material of poetry; it is not a lean record of first impressions ; it is not a book of travels and adventures; it is not -a novel. It belongs to a nondescript genus, and may be classed with some parts of the Sketch Book, of which it is a manifest imitation. If we may hazard a conjec- ture, at variance with the opinions of the newspaper critics, we will say, that we think it was intended for a satire, a gentle satire on the pride, aristocratic feeling, and ignorance of a certain class, rather numerous in the south. The author seems to hint at this in his pre- face. The ordinary actions of men, he says, in their household inter- course have not usually a humorous or comic character. Again, the under- currents of country life are -grotesque, peculiar and amusing. He says that he is confident that no one will say that his pictures are false or exaggerated. If this he true, and his book is a fair de- scription of general society, alas for the freeholders of the Old Dominion! Mark Littleton, the ostensible author of Swallow j3a~n, is a resident of New- York. He complies with the invitation of a Virginian cousin, Ned Hazard by name, to pass a few weeks at Swallow Barn, his ancestral mansion. He fInds Mr. Hazard desperately in love with Miss Bel Tracy. Said Hazard brays and gambols like an ass, a very sorry ass, through the work, as all men in love do, especially those who are igno- rant of every useful way of passing the time. The progress of the courtship is the bond, and a slight one it is, that holds the chapters of the book together. The rest of the materials are, with the exception of t o or three episodes, de- scriptions of the manners and scenery of Virginia. The farther we read, the more strongly are we convinced that the author in. tended to show up the Virginians. His principal characters are humorously conceited, pompous, ignorant and dog- matic. He has succeeded admirably in showing them in a ridiculous light. Take for example the following dia- logue between a landlord and his guest. Some thirty or forty persons were collected at the Landing. The porch of the shabby little hostelry was filled by a crowd of rough looking mustics, who were laughing boisterously, drink- ing, and making ribald jokes. A violin and fife were heard, from within the building, to a quick ~neasure, wbich was accompanied with the heavy tramp of feet from a party of dan- e is. A group of negroes, on ide of the house, were enjoying themselves in the same way, shuffling through the odd contortions of a jig, with two sticks lying crosswise upon the ground, over which they danced, alternately slapping their thighs and throwing up their el- bows to the time of the music, and making strange grimaces. A few tall, swaggering figures, tricked out in yellow lmnting~sliirts trimmed with green fringe, and their hats, some white and some black, garnished with a band of red cloth and ragged plunies of the same color, that seemed to have been faded by fre- quent rains, stood about in little knots, where they talked loudly and swore hard oaths. A- mongst these were mingled a motley collection of lank and sallow watermen, boys, negroes and females bedizened in all the wonders of country millinery. At the fences and about the trees, in the vicinity of the house, was to be seen the counterpart of these groups, in the various assemblage of horses of every color, shape and degree, stamping, neighing and sleeping uiitil their services should be required by their maudlin masters. 0cc. sionally, dur- ing our stay, some of these nags were brought forward for a race, which was conducted with increased uproar and tumult. * * * * * ip had recognized some familiar features amongst the country volunteers, and had al-- ready found out the drummer, who had hung his ma- ial instrument around his shoulders and the delighted boy was beating away at it with all his might. Carey had collected about him a set of his old cronies, to whom he was delivering a kind of solemn har n~ue, of which we -could only observe the energy of his gesti- culations. The ferry-boat lay attached to the

Swallow Barn; or a Sojourn in the Old Dominion Literary Notices 76-79

76 LITERARY NOTICES. Swallow Barn; or a Sojourn in the Old Dominion. It is reported, we know not on what authority, that this work is to be at- tributed to the author of the best polit- ical satire of our times, viz. The Breeches. The Breeches were not half so much worn as they deserved to be; but all who saw them pronounced their maker an artist of rare talent. The book before us will not diminish his reputation. Swallow Barn has no plot or story whatever. The author tells us, in his introductory remarks, that he did not intend to make one. He had great dif- ficulty, he says, to prevent himself from writing a novel. We wish he had made a novel of it. It was his intention to pass a few weeks in the Old Dominion, in order to portray the impressions which the scenery nnd people made upon him, in detached pictures, without connexion. We must not condemn a book because it is not an Iliad, or a Fielding or Waverly novelit is unjust to expect an author to perform more than he avowedly undertakes. Swal- low Barn is entitled to th praise of being all that it professes to be. Still,we know not what to call it. It is not a poem, though rich in the material of poetry; it is not a lean record of first impressions ; it is not a book of travels and adventures; it is not -a novel. It belongs to a nondescript genus, and may be classed with some parts of the Sketch Book, of which it is a manifest imitation. If we may hazard a conjec- ture, at variance with the opinions of the newspaper critics, we will say, that we think it was intended for a satire, a gentle satire on the pride, aristocratic feeling, and ignorance of a certain class, rather numerous in the south. The author seems to hint at this in his pre- face. The ordinary actions of men, he says, in their household inter- course have not usually a humorous or comic character. Again, the under- currents of country life are -grotesque, peculiar and amusing. He says that he is confident that no one will say that his pictures are false or exaggerated. If this he true, and his book is a fair de- scription of general society, alas for the freeholders of the Old Dominion! Mark Littleton, the ostensible author of Swallow j3a~n, is a resident of New- York. He complies with the invitation of a Virginian cousin, Ned Hazard by name, to pass a few weeks at Swallow Barn, his ancestral mansion. He fInds Mr. Hazard desperately in love with Miss Bel Tracy. Said Hazard brays and gambols like an ass, a very sorry ass, through the work, as all men in love do, especially those who are igno- rant of every useful way of passing the time. The progress of the courtship is the bond, and a slight one it is, that holds the chapters of the book together. The rest of the materials are, with the exception of t o or three episodes, de- scriptions of the manners and scenery of Virginia. The farther we read, the more strongly are we convinced that the author in. tended to show up the Virginians. His principal characters are humorously conceited, pompous, ignorant and dog- matic. He has succeeded admirably in showing them in a ridiculous light. Take for example the following dia- logue between a landlord and his guest. Some thirty or forty persons were collected at the Landing. The porch of the shabby little hostelry was filled by a crowd of rough looking mustics, who were laughing boisterously, drink- ing, and making ribald jokes. A violin and fife were heard, from within the building, to a quick ~neasure, wbich was accompanied with the heavy tramp of feet from a party of dan- e is. A group of negroes, on ide of the house, were enjoying themselves in the same way, shuffling through the odd contortions of a jig, with two sticks lying crosswise upon the ground, over which they danced, alternately slapping their thighs and throwing up their el- bows to the time of the music, and making strange grimaces. A few tall, swaggering figures, tricked out in yellow lmnting~sliirts trimmed with green fringe, and their hats, some white and some black, garnished with a band of red cloth and ragged plunies of the same color, that seemed to have been faded by fre- quent rains, stood about in little knots, where they talked loudly and swore hard oaths. A- mongst these were mingled a motley collection of lank and sallow watermen, boys, negroes and females bedizened in all the wonders of country millinery. At the fences and about the trees, in the vicinity of the house, was to be seen the counterpart of these groups, in the various assemblage of horses of every color, shape and degree, stamping, neighing and sleeping uiitil their services should be required by their maudlin masters. 0cc. sionally, dur- ing our stay, some of these nags were brought forward for a race, which was conducted with increased uproar and tumult. * * * * * ip had recognized some familiar features amongst the country volunteers, and had al-- ready found out the drummer, who had hung his ma- ial instrument around his shoulders and the delighted boy was beating away at it with all his might. Carey had collected about him a set of his old cronies, to whom he was delivering a kind of solemn har n~ue, of which we -could only observe the energy of his gesti- culations. The ferry-boat lay attached to the wharf, asid on the stern benches were seated three or four graver looking men in coarse at- tire, who were deeply discussing questions that occasionally brought them into a high tone of voice, and, now and then, into a burst of loud laughter. Ned had led me up to this group, and, in the careless indolence of the moment, we had thrown ourselves out at full length across the seats; Ned, with his legs dangling across ehe gunwale, with Wilful lying close by, and reposing his head upon his lap. The principal personage in this collection was Sandy Walker, a long, sun-burnt water- man, who was the proprietor of the hotel, and evidently a man of mark among his associates. One of the others was a greasy gentleman in a blue coat, out at elbows, with a nose lustrous with living fire. These two were the principal speakers, and they were debating an intricate point of constitutional law, with more vehe- nience than perspicuity. Allen h, an appeal was made to Ned,by Sandy., who was infinitely the most authoritative in his manner of the whole group. Cant Congress, said Sandy, suppo~ing they were in pass a law to that effect, come and take a road of theirn any where they have a mind to, through any mans land? I put it to Mr. Ned Hazard. Not by the Constitution, said the gentle- man in the greasy coat, with marked emphasis. Well, said Ned, well hear you, San- dy. Sandy rose up, and lifting his hand above his hssad, as he began, I say it stands to eaton It stands to no such thing ! rejoined the other, interrupting him if its against the Constitution ,which I say it is undoubtedly~ to come and take a mans land without saying, by your leave; if I may be allowed the expres- sion, Mr. Ned hazard, its running against a snag. Silence, says Ned, Mr. Walker has the plank; we can only hear one at a time Why, sir, continued Sandy, argumenta- tively, and looking steadfastly at his opponent, with one eye closed, and, at the same time, bringing his right hand into the palm of his left; they can just cut off a corner, if they want it, or go through the middle, leaving one half here, and tother there and make you feuce it clean through into the bargain; or, added Sandy, giving snore breadth to his doctrine, go through your house, sir. Devil a house have I, Sandy ! said the other. Or your barn, sir. Nor barn nother. Sweeping your bed right from under you, if Congress says so. Aint there the canal to go across the Allegheny mountain? What does Congress care about your state rights, so as they have got the money ? Canals, I grant you, said l]is antagonist; but theres a difference between land and water, evidently posed by Sandys dogmatic manner, as well as somewlsat awed by the rela- tion of. landlord, in which Sandy stood, and whom, therefore, he would not rashly contra- dict. But, said he, in a more softened tone, and with an affected spice of courtesy in his accost, Mr. Walker, Id be glad to know if we couldnt nullify. Nullify! exclaimed Sandy, nullify what ? said he, with particular emphasis on the last words. Do you know what old Hickory said down there in the Creek nation, in the war, wisen the Indians pretended they were going to have a ball play ? No. If you dont ~o and wash all tlsat there paint finns your faces, Ill give you the shock- 77 ingest ball play you ever had in all y ur lives. You dontttell me so ! exclaimed the red- nosed gentleman with animation, and bursting. out into a tremendous laugh. Didnt he say so, Ned Hazard? I beg yoar pardon, Mr. Ned Hazard! ejaculated Sandy and turning to Ned. I think I haveheard so, said Ned, though I dont believe he used that exact expression. It was something like it, said Sandy: well, thats the sort of nullification youd get. Things are getting worse and worse, re- plied the other. I can see how its going. Here, the first thing General Jackson did when became in he wanted to have the President elected for six years; and, by and by, they will want him for ten! and now they want to cut up our orchards and meadows, whether or no; thats just the way Bonaparte went on. Whats the use of states if they are all to he cut up with canals and rail-roads and tariffs? No, no, gen- tiemen! you may depend, Old Virginnys not going to let Congress carry on in her day ! How can they help it? asked Sandy. We havnt feat and bled, rejoined the other, taking out of his pocket a large piece of tobacco, and cutting off a quid, as he spoke in a somewhat subduedtone, we havntfsut and bled for our liberties to have our posterity and their land circumcised after this rate, to suit the figaries of Congress. So let them try it when they will Mr. Ned Hazard, what do you call state rights ? demanded Sandy. Its a sort of a law, said the other speaker, taking the answer to himself, against cotton and wool. Thats a fact, cried Sandy, and, in may tisinking, its a very foolish sort of a business. Theres where you and me differs, re- sponded the other. Well, said Ned, its a troublesome ques- tion. Sup se we wait until we hear wisat Old Virginia says about it herself? And as for us Sandy, it is getting late, and we must go. These words concluded the colloquy. The author of Swallow Barn is the best of imitators. After reading the Breeches we could almost have sworn that Dean Swift had come to life again. If we had not been assured of the con- trary, we should have set down the work before us to the credit of Mr. Irving. There is the same quiet humor, the same good-natured satire, the same smooth, and solnetimes quaint language, and the same evidence of extensive reading and general observa- tion, which characterize the Sketch Book, Bracebnidge Hall, and the Tales of a Traveler. We cannot say that our author quite equals his model; no imi- tator ever does; but he approaches hint very nearly. We now feel as well ac- quainted with Virginia as any of Mr. Irvings readers can be with the shores of the North river. The style of Swallow Barn is easy, and, bating a few Americanisms, cor- rect. If his characters be not interest- in,,, the fault is their own, not the au- thors. He has made them amusing, but all his skill cannot make us love or hate such insipid people. lie seems to have a particular tact iu discovering Literary Notices. Literary Notices. the minute particles which distinguish ordinary characters from each other. In the second volume we did not need to he told to whom any speech be- longed; it spoke for itself. His de- scriptions are singularly minute. While we read, we fancy ourselves listening to the dogs around the gum, into which they have compelled the oppos- sum to climb, and to the notes of (black) uncle Careys banjo. Of inven- tion, Swallow Barn displays little, of connection none. The whole interest of the work consists in its novel subject and its humorously beautiful style. Of course, these remarks do not apply to the episodes. The talent of the author has created a pleasure, which a view of the persons and scenes he describes would never have given. We should like to see Swallow Barn, and perhaps to pass a week there, but no more. In short, with all his ability, all his information, all his command of lan- guage, (and in these particulars he is surpassed by no American writer) his book will be thought by many to be rather dull. He seems to be conscious of this, for he acknowledees it in the preface. It is not altogether his fault. Setting aside the demerit of imitation, his materials are badly chosen. It is impossible to make much of them. If life in Virginia be what he describes, we would not settle in the Old Domin.~ ion for the best estate it contains. The gentlemen of Swallow Barn are the most ordinary, trifling, useless genera- tionthe world ever saw. To be sure, they are kind, hospitable, liberal, and honorable, but how are their lives passed? If this work be what it pre- tends, a Virginian of condition has no use for his time but to pay and receive visits, to attend courts, and to watch the multiplication of his horses and negroes. These may be very proper employments, and may conduce to the prosperity of the state, but deliver us from such a life. We would as lief be transformed into a fixture on one of their farms. Frank Meriwether seems to have been intended to represent the landed propri- etors of Virginia. He is a magistrate, is rich, keeps the best company in the state, and his opinions are received as oracles by all the little luminaries who revolve within the sphere of his orbit. Take the following remarks for a speci- men of his intelligence. After all, said he, as if he had been talking to me before, although these were the first words lie utteredthen m~ kirib a parenthesis, so as to qualify what lie was going to say I dont deny that the steamboat is destined to produce valuable resultsbut after all, I much question (and here he bit his upper lip, and paused an instant)if we are not better without it. I de- clare, I think it strikes deeper at the supremacy of the states than most persons are willing to allow. This annihilation of space, sir, is not to be desired. Our protection against the evils of conselidation consists in the very obstacles to our intercourse. Splatterthwaite Dubbs of Din- widdie(or some such name,Frank is fa- inous for quoting the opinions of his contempo- raries. This Splatterthwaite, I take it, was some old college chum that had got into the legislature, and I dare say made pungent speeches,) Dubbs of Dinwiddie made a good remarkThat the home material of Virginia was never so good as when her roads were at their worst. And so Frank went on with quite a harangue, to which none of the company replied one word, for fear we might get into a dispute. Every body seems to understand the advantage of silence when Meriwether is in- clined to he expatiatory. Ned Hazard, Harvey Riggs, Philpot Wart and old Mr. Tracy are the other prominent, or, perhaps, we should say the distinguished, male characters of Swallow Barn. They are all good- natured, worthy persons. Philpot Wart is passably intelligent and well inform- ed. But they do nothing. No incident, of more importance than the concoction of a mint julep, occurs in the whole course of their lives, save those which are common to all mankind, viz, birth, marriage and death. They visit each other, eat, drink and are merry, and that is all. They have some excellent qualities, but no occasion calls them forth. They are very estimable, amia- ble, good-for-nothing people, who might have gone quietly down to their graves, and no one, save their own relations, would have been the worse or the better for the event, or have known that they ever existed but for his pen. The negroes of Swallow Barn are its only working bees. Such lives as the whites lead, may be very satisfactory to them- selves, but they are very insipid to the observer. The whole book is a picture of the stillest of still life. With ten times the talent of any but one or two of our best writers, our author has pro. duced a work that we fear may cause some yawning,but wilibe readwe have no doubt that it will livesuch authors do not appear every day. It contains many irresistibly ludicrous chapters. Yet we must consider it, as a whole, but the promise of better things. We think of this gentleman, as we have before thought of some others, that it is pity that one who can do so well, has not done better. We hope he will soon write again on a better topic, and that he will forbear imitation, and rely on his own bright genius. Mike Brown is an episode, and a very good story, though it reminds us 73 rather strongly of The Devil and Tom Walker. Woodcraft, Abe The Negro Mother, The Goblin Swamp, and the whole story of the lawsuit respecting the Applepye Boundary, may be men- tioned as among the best parts of the work. Though we cannot speak of Swallow Barn in the superlative, we may say here, that there is scarcely any thing in the literary way, that we deem th~ author incompetent to achieve. We shall henceforth take some pains to procure any book he may publish. It is one merit of Swallow Barn, that almost any part is proper for quotation. We quote the following as a not unfa- vorable specimen of the authors style and manner. Next to these is a boy,a shrewd, mischiev- ous imp, that curvets about the house, a char- tered libertine. He is a little wiry fellow near thirteen, that is known altogether by the nick- name of Rip, and has a scapegrace counte- nance, fill of freckles and deviltry the eyes are somewhat greenish, and the mouth opens alarmingly wide upon a tumultuous array of discolored teeth. His whole air is that of an untrimmed colt, torn down and disorderly; and I most usually find him with the bosom of his shirt bagged out, so as to form a great pocket, where he carries apples or green walnuts, and sometimes pebbles, with which he is famous for pelting the fowls. I must digress, to say a word about Rips head-gear. He wears a nondescript skull-cap, which, I conjecture from some equivocal signs, had once been a fur hat, but which must have taken a degree in fifty other callings; for I see it daily employed in the most foreign services. Sometimes it is a drinking vessel, and then Rip pinches it up like a cocked hat; sometimes it is devoted to push-pin, and then it is cuffed cruelly on both sides; and sometimes it is turned into a basket, to carry eggs from the hen-musts. It finds hard service at hat-ball, where, like a plas- tic statesman, it is popular for its pliability. It is tossed in the air on all occasions of rejoicing; and now and then serves for a gauntletand is flung with energy upon the ground, on the eve of a battle; and it is kicked occasionally through the school-yard, after the fashion of a bladder. It wears a singular exterior, having a row of holes cut below the crown, or rather the apex, (for it is pyramidal in shape,) to make it cool, as Rip explains it, in hot weather. The only rest that it enjoys through the day, as far as I have been able to perceive, is during school hours, and then it is thrust between a desk and a bulk-head, three inches apart, where it gener- ally envelopes in its folds a handful of hickory- nuts or marbles. This covering falls down for it has no lininglike an extinguisher over Rips head, which is uncommonly small and round, and garnished with a tangled mop of hair. To prevent the frequent recurrence of this accident, Rip has pursed it up with a hat- band of twine. To concludewe think the motto of Swallow Barn admirably adapted. Read it, believe it; and you will not be disappointed in what comes after. Le Vozci. And, for to pass the time, this book shall be pleasant to read in. But for to give faith and believe that all is tine that is contained therein ye be at your own liberty. 79 The History and Geography of the Mississippi Valley. To which is appended a Condensed Physical Geography of the Atlan- tic United States, and the Whole American Continent. Second Edition. By Tissiothy Flint. The accomplished and elegant writer of this work may lay claim to a rank similar to that of Colonel Boone in be- ing the first to penetrate the recesses of the western wilds. Other writers, in- deed, travelers, geographers and histo- rians, have given us occasional sketches of those remote regions, whereof by parcels we had something heard, but nought distinctively. But till the ap- pearance ofMr.Flints Ten Years Resi- dence, no adequate impression of the majestic scenery of the west had been conveyed by the pen of any writer. The bold, original and striking descrip tions with which that work abounds; the vivid glow of poetical coloring which the eloquence and feeling of the writer threw over every object of his notice, raised him at once to a rank with our very first writers. in the Geography and History of the Mississippi Valley, the eloquence and imagination in the former work are sobered down to a stand- ard befitting a volume of statistical de- tail, yet much of the freshness of de- scription remains. The present edition has been much improved, and may fair- ly be pronounced the best Geography of America in existence. On the Western states it is full and accurate; on the Atlan- tic states it contains all that is necessary to be known; and on the other portions of the American continent it has a con- densed summary of all recent informa- tion. We cannot refrain from quoting one or two of the authors forcible and vivid sketches of western scenery, which he has executed with the imagination and skill of a true poet. Below the mouth of Ohio, in the season of mnundatmosi, to an observing spectator a very striking spectacle is presented. The river, as will elsewhere be observed, sweeps along in curves, or sections of circles, of an extent from six to twelve miles, measured from point to point. The sheet of water, that is visible be- tween the forests on either side, is, as we have remarked, not far from the medial width of a mile. On a calm spring morning, and un- der a bright sun, this sheet of water, to an eye that takes in its gentle descending de- clivity, shines, like a mass of burnished sil- ver. Its edges are distinctly marked by a magnificent outline of cotton-wood trees, gen- erally of great size, and at this hole of the year, of the brightest verdure. On the convex, or bar side of the bend, there is generally a vig- orous growth of willows, or young cotton wood trees of such astonishing regularity of appear- ance, that it always seems to the onpractised spectator, a work of art. The water stands among these trees from ten to fifteen feet in height. Those brilliant birds, the black and red bird of this country, seem to delight to flit Literary iNotices.

The History and Geography of the Mississippi Valley. To which is appended a Condensed Physical Geography of the Atlantic United States, and the Whole American Continent. By Timothy Flint Literary Notices 79-80

rather strongly of The Devil and Tom Walker. Woodcraft, Abe The Negro Mother, The Goblin Swamp, and the whole story of the lawsuit respecting the Applepye Boundary, may be men- tioned as among the best parts of the work. Though we cannot speak of Swallow Barn in the superlative, we may say here, that there is scarcely any thing in the literary way, that we deem th~ author incompetent to achieve. We shall henceforth take some pains to procure any book he may publish. It is one merit of Swallow Barn, that almost any part is proper for quotation. We quote the following as a not unfa- vorable specimen of the authors style and manner. Next to these is a boy,a shrewd, mischiev- ous imp, that curvets about the house, a char- tered libertine. He is a little wiry fellow near thirteen, that is known altogether by the nick- name of Rip, and has a scapegrace counte- nance, fill of freckles and deviltry the eyes are somewhat greenish, and the mouth opens alarmingly wide upon a tumultuous array of discolored teeth. His whole air is that of an untrimmed colt, torn down and disorderly; and I most usually find him with the bosom of his shirt bagged out, so as to form a great pocket, where he carries apples or green walnuts, and sometimes pebbles, with which he is famous for pelting the fowls. I must digress, to say a word about Rips head-gear. He wears a nondescript skull-cap, which, I conjecture from some equivocal signs, had once been a fur hat, but which must have taken a degree in fifty other callings; for I see it daily employed in the most foreign services. Sometimes it is a drinking vessel, and then Rip pinches it up like a cocked hat; sometimes it is devoted to push-pin, and then it is cuffed cruelly on both sides; and sometimes it is turned into a basket, to carry eggs from the hen-musts. It finds hard service at hat-ball, where, like a plas- tic statesman, it is popular for its pliability. It is tossed in the air on all occasions of rejoicing; and now and then serves for a gauntletand is flung with energy upon the ground, on the eve of a battle; and it is kicked occasionally through the school-yard, after the fashion of a bladder. It wears a singular exterior, having a row of holes cut below the crown, or rather the apex, (for it is pyramidal in shape,) to make it cool, as Rip explains it, in hot weather. The only rest that it enjoys through the day, as far as I have been able to perceive, is during school hours, and then it is thrust between a desk and a bulk-head, three inches apart, where it gener- ally envelopes in its folds a handful of hickory- nuts or marbles. This covering falls down for it has no lininglike an extinguisher over Rips head, which is uncommonly small and round, and garnished with a tangled mop of hair. To prevent the frequent recurrence of this accident, Rip has pursed it up with a hat- band of twine. To concludewe think the motto of Swallow Barn admirably adapted. Read it, believe it; and you will not be disappointed in what comes after. Le Vozci. And, for to pass the time, this book shall be pleasant to read in. But for to give faith and believe that all is tine that is contained therein ye be at your own liberty. 79 The History and Geography of the Mississippi Valley. To which is appended a Condensed Physical Geography of the Atlan- tic United States, and the Whole American Continent. Second Edition. By Tissiothy Flint. The accomplished and elegant writer of this work may lay claim to a rank similar to that of Colonel Boone in be- ing the first to penetrate the recesses of the western wilds. Other writers, in- deed, travelers, geographers and histo- rians, have given us occasional sketches of those remote regions, whereof by parcels we had something heard, but nought distinctively. But till the ap- pearance ofMr.Flints Ten Years Resi- dence, no adequate impression of the majestic scenery of the west had been conveyed by the pen of any writer. The bold, original and striking descrip tions with which that work abounds; the vivid glow of poetical coloring which the eloquence and feeling of the writer threw over every object of his notice, raised him at once to a rank with our very first writers. in the Geography and History of the Mississippi Valley, the eloquence and imagination in the former work are sobered down to a stand- ard befitting a volume of statistical de- tail, yet much of the freshness of de- scription remains. The present edition has been much improved, and may fair- ly be pronounced the best Geography of America in existence. On the Western states it is full and accurate; on the Atlan- tic states it contains all that is necessary to be known; and on the other portions of the American continent it has a con- densed summary of all recent informa- tion. We cannot refrain from quoting one or two of the authors forcible and vivid sketches of western scenery, which he has executed with the imagination and skill of a true poet. Below the mouth of Ohio, in the season of mnundatmosi, to an observing spectator a very striking spectacle is presented. The river, as will elsewhere be observed, sweeps along in curves, or sections of circles, of an extent from six to twelve miles, measured from point to point. The sheet of water, that is visible be- tween the forests on either side, is, as we have remarked, not far from the medial width of a mile. On a calm spring morning, and un- der a bright sun, this sheet of water, to an eye that takes in its gentle descending de- clivity, shines, like a mass of burnished sil- ver. Its edges are distinctly marked by a magnificent outline of cotton-wood trees, gen- erally of great size, and at this hole of the year, of the brightest verdure. On the convex, or bar side of the bend, there is generally a vig- orous growth of willows, or young cotton wood trees of such astonishing regularity of appear- ance, that it always seems to the onpractised spectator, a work of art. The water stands among these trees from ten to fifteen feet in height. Those brilliant birds, the black and red bird of this country, seem to delight to flit Literary iNotices. Litera~y Notices. among these young groves, that are inundated to half their height. Nature is carrying on her most vigorous efforts of vegetation below. If there. be wind or storm, the descending flat and keet boats immediately make for these groves, and plunge fearlessly, with all the headway the.y can command, among the trees. Should tbey be of half the size of the human body, struck fifteen feet from the ground, they readi- lx bend before even a frail boat. You de- ecend the whole distanceofa thousand miles to New-Orleans, landing at night in fifteen feet water among the trees; but, probably, in no in- atance, within twenty miles of the real shore, which is a bluff. The whole spectacle is that of a vast and magnificent forest, emerging from a lake, with its waters, indeed, in a thousand places, in descending motion. The experienced savage, or solita voyager, paddles bis canoe through the deep forests, from one bluff to the other. He finds bayous, by which one river communicates with the other. He moves, per- haps, along the Mississippi forest into the mouth of White river. He ascends that river a few suites, and by the Grand Cut-off moves down the forest into the Arkansas. From that river he finds many bayous, which coinusunicate readily with Washita and Red river; and from that river, by some one of its hundred bayous, he finds his way into the Atchafalaya and the Teche; and by that stream to the Gulf of Mexi- to, reachin,, it inure than twenty leagues west of the Mississippi. At that time, this is a river from thirty to an hundred yards wide, all over- shadowed with forests, except an interior strip of little more than a mile in width, where the eye reposes on the open expanse of waters, vis- ible between the trees. * * * * * * None, but one who has seen, can imagine the interest, excited in a district of country, per- haps, fifty miles in extent, by the awaited ap- proach of the time for a camp meeting; and none, but one who has seen, can imagine how profoundly the preac rs have understood what produces effect, and how well they have prac- tised upon it. Suppose the scene to be where the most extensive excitements and the most frequent camp meetings have been, during the two past years, in one of the beautiful and fer- tile valleys among the mountains of Tennessee. The notice has been circulated two or three months. On the appointed day, coaches, chais- es, wagons, carts, people on horseback, and multitudes traveling from a distance on foot, wagons with provisions, mattresses, tents, and arrangements for the stay of a sveek, are seen hurrying from every point towards the central spot. It is in the midst of a grove of those beau- tiful and lofty trees, natural to the valleys of Ten- nessee, in its deepest verfistre, and beside a spring branch, for the requisite supply of water. The ambitious and wealthy are there, because in this region opinion is all-powerful; and they cc there, either to extend their influence, or, that their absence may not be noted, to diinin- ish it. Aspirants for office are there, to elec- tioneer, and gain popularity. Vast numbers are there from simple curiosity, and merely to enjoy a spectacle. The young and the beauti- ful are there, with mixed motives, which it were best not severely to scrutinize. Children are there, their young eyes glistening with the intense interest of eager curiosity. The middle- aged fathers and mothers of families are there, with the sober views of people, whose plans in life are fixed, and waiting calmly to hear. Men and wonien of hoary hairs are there, with such thoughts, it may be hoped, as their years invite. Such is the congregation, consisting of thou- sands. A host of preachers of different denominations are there, some in the earnest vigor and aspiriiig desires of youth, waiting an opportunity for dis. play; others, who have proclaimed the gospel, as pit ims of the cross, from the remotest north of our vast country to the shores of the Mexi- can gulf, auft ready to utter the words, the feel- ings and the experience, which they have treas- ured up in a travelling ministry of fifty years, and whose accents, trembling with age, still more impressively than their words, announce, that they will soon travel, and preach no more on the earth, are there. Such are the preachers. The line of tents is pitched; and the religious city grows up in a few hours under the trees be- side the stream. Lamps are hung in lines among the branches; and the effect of their glare upon the surrounding forest is as of magic. The scenery of the most brilliant theatre in the world is a painting only for children, compared with it. Meantime the mu itudes, with the highest excit ent of social feeling added to the general enthusiasm of expectation, pass from tent to tent, and interchange apostolic greetimigs and embraces, and talk of the coming solemnities. Their coffee and tea are prepared, and their slipper is finished. By this time the asoon, (for they take thought, to appoint the meeting at the proper time of the the moon,) be- gins to show its disk above the dark summits of the mountains ; and a few stars are seen glim- mering through the intervals of the branches. The whole constitutes a temple worthy of the grandeur of a God. An old man, in a dress of the quaintest simplicity, ascends a platform, wipes the dust from his spectacles, and in a voice of suppressed emotion, gives out a hym of which the whole assembled multitude can recite the words, and an air, in which every voice can join. We should deem poorly of the heart, that would not thrill as the song is heard, like the sound of many waters, echoing among the hills and mountains. Such are the scenes, the associations, and such the influence of exter at things upon a nature so fearfully and wonderfully constituted as ours, that Ii tie effort is necessary on such a theme as reli- gion, ur,,ed at such place, under such circum- stances, to fill the heart and the eyes. The hoary orator talks of God, of eternity, a judge- ment to come, and all that is impressive be- yond. He speaks of his experience, his toils and his travels, his persecutions and welcomes, and how many he has seen in hope, in peace and triuniph, gathered to their fathers; and when he speaks of the short space that remains to him, his only regret is, that he can no more proclaim, in the silence of death, the mercies of his crucified Redeemer. There is no need of the studied trick of ora- tory, to produce in such a place the deepest movements of the heart. No wonder, as the speaker pauses to dash the gathering moisture from his own eye, that his audience are dissolv- ed in tears, or uttering the exclamations of pen- itence. Nor is it cause for admiration, that ma- ny, who poised themselves on an estimation of higher intellect, aisfi a nobler insensibility, than the crowd, catch the infectious feeling, and be- come women and children in their turn; and though they came to mock, remain to ay. The Soul of Man. A Sermon, preached at the Tabernacle Church, Salem, Mass. April 25, 1S32 By Leonard Withing- ton, Pastor of the First Chutch in Newbury. This discourse was delivered a few months since, at the Salem Tabernacle Church, and has been published at their request. The text is from Genesis ii. 7. lInd man became a tinner soul.~ The reverend author has approached his sub- 8Q

The Soul of Man. A Sermon, preached at the Tabernacle Church, Salem, Mass. April 22, 1832. By Leonard Withington, Pastor of the First Church in Newbury Literary Notices 80-81

Litera~y Notices. among these young groves, that are inundated to half their height. Nature is carrying on her most vigorous efforts of vegetation below. If there. be wind or storm, the descending flat and keet boats immediately make for these groves, and plunge fearlessly, with all the headway the.y can command, among the trees. Should tbey be of half the size of the human body, struck fifteen feet from the ground, they readi- lx bend before even a frail boat. You de- ecend the whole distanceofa thousand miles to New-Orleans, landing at night in fifteen feet water among the trees; but, probably, in no in- atance, within twenty miles of the real shore, which is a bluff. The whole spectacle is that of a vast and magnificent forest, emerging from a lake, with its waters, indeed, in a thousand places, in descending motion. The experienced savage, or solita voyager, paddles bis canoe through the deep forests, from one bluff to the other. He finds bayous, by which one river communicates with the other. He moves, per- haps, along the Mississippi forest into the mouth of White river. He ascends that river a few suites, and by the Grand Cut-off moves down the forest into the Arkansas. From that river he finds many bayous, which coinusunicate readily with Washita and Red river; and from that river, by some one of its hundred bayous, he finds his way into the Atchafalaya and the Teche; and by that stream to the Gulf of Mexi- to, reachin,, it inure than twenty leagues west of the Mississippi. At that time, this is a river from thirty to an hundred yards wide, all over- shadowed with forests, except an interior strip of little more than a mile in width, where the eye reposes on the open expanse of waters, vis- ible between the trees. * * * * * * None, but one who has seen, can imagine the interest, excited in a district of country, per- haps, fifty miles in extent, by the awaited ap- proach of the time for a camp meeting; and none, but one who has seen, can imagine how profoundly the preac rs have understood what produces effect, and how well they have prac- tised upon it. Suppose the scene to be where the most extensive excitements and the most frequent camp meetings have been, during the two past years, in one of the beautiful and fer- tile valleys among the mountains of Tennessee. The notice has been circulated two or three months. On the appointed day, coaches, chais- es, wagons, carts, people on horseback, and multitudes traveling from a distance on foot, wagons with provisions, mattresses, tents, and arrangements for the stay of a sveek, are seen hurrying from every point towards the central spot. It is in the midst of a grove of those beau- tiful and lofty trees, natural to the valleys of Ten- nessee, in its deepest verfistre, and beside a spring branch, for the requisite supply of water. The ambitious and wealthy are there, because in this region opinion is all-powerful; and they cc there, either to extend their influence, or, that their absence may not be noted, to diinin- ish it. Aspirants for office are there, to elec- tioneer, and gain popularity. Vast numbers are there from simple curiosity, and merely to enjoy a spectacle. The young and the beauti- ful are there, with mixed motives, which it were best not severely to scrutinize. Children are there, their young eyes glistening with the intense interest of eager curiosity. The middle- aged fathers and mothers of families are there, with the sober views of people, whose plans in life are fixed, and waiting calmly to hear. Men and wonien of hoary hairs are there, with such thoughts, it may be hoped, as their years invite. Such is the congregation, consisting of thou- sands. A host of preachers of different denominations are there, some in the earnest vigor and aspiriiig desires of youth, waiting an opportunity for dis. play; others, who have proclaimed the gospel, as pit ims of the cross, from the remotest north of our vast country to the shores of the Mexi- can gulf, auft ready to utter the words, the feel- ings and the experience, which they have treas- ured up in a travelling ministry of fifty years, and whose accents, trembling with age, still more impressively than their words, announce, that they will soon travel, and preach no more on the earth, are there. Such are the preachers. The line of tents is pitched; and the religious city grows up in a few hours under the trees be- side the stream. Lamps are hung in lines among the branches; and the effect of their glare upon the surrounding forest is as of magic. The scenery of the most brilliant theatre in the world is a painting only for children, compared with it. Meantime the mu itudes, with the highest excit ent of social feeling added to the general enthusiasm of expectation, pass from tent to tent, and interchange apostolic greetimigs and embraces, and talk of the coming solemnities. Their coffee and tea are prepared, and their slipper is finished. By this time the asoon, (for they take thought, to appoint the meeting at the proper time of the the moon,) be- gins to show its disk above the dark summits of the mountains ; and a few stars are seen glim- mering through the intervals of the branches. The whole constitutes a temple worthy of the grandeur of a God. An old man, in a dress of the quaintest simplicity, ascends a platform, wipes the dust from his spectacles, and in a voice of suppressed emotion, gives out a hym of which the whole assembled multitude can recite the words, and an air, in which every voice can join. We should deem poorly of the heart, that would not thrill as the song is heard, like the sound of many waters, echoing among the hills and mountains. Such are the scenes, the associations, and such the influence of exter at things upon a nature so fearfully and wonderfully constituted as ours, that Ii tie effort is necessary on such a theme as reli- gion, ur,,ed at such place, under such circum- stances, to fill the heart and the eyes. The hoary orator talks of God, of eternity, a judge- ment to come, and all that is impressive be- yond. He speaks of his experience, his toils and his travels, his persecutions and welcomes, and how many he has seen in hope, in peace and triuniph, gathered to their fathers; and when he speaks of the short space that remains to him, his only regret is, that he can no more proclaim, in the silence of death, the mercies of his crucified Redeemer. There is no need of the studied trick of ora- tory, to produce in such a place the deepest movements of the heart. No wonder, as the speaker pauses to dash the gathering moisture from his own eye, that his audience are dissolv- ed in tears, or uttering the exclamations of pen- itence. Nor is it cause for admiration, that ma- ny, who poised themselves on an estimation of higher intellect, aisfi a nobler insensibility, than the crowd, catch the infectious feeling, and be- come women and children in their turn; and though they came to mock, remain to ay. The Soul of Man. A Sermon, preached at the Tabernacle Church, Salem, Mass. April 25, 1S32 By Leonard Withing- ton, Pastor of the First Chutch in Newbury. This discourse was delivered a few months since, at the Salem Tabernacle Church, and has been published at their request. The text is from Genesis ii. 7. lInd man became a tinner soul.~ The reverend author has approached his sub- 8Q Literary Notices. ject with a manifestly deep sense both of its intricacy and its importance; but he has not, for that reason, any the less deliberately or laboriously entered into the examination. He thinks it not only a legitimate subject of philosophical as well as religious inquiry, but not alto- gether an unpromising, and far less a forbidden one. The soul, he says, is commonly regarded as something very hard to be understood. What is the soul? was a question once put to Man- vaux. 1 know nothing of it, he an- swered, but it is spiritual and immor- tal . Well, said his friend, let us ask Fontenelle, and he will tell us what it is. No cried Marivaux, ask any body but Fontenelle, for he has too much good sense to know any more about it than we do. Still, mysterious be- ings as we are, he supposes this subject to be just as much an object of success- ful investigation, as any thing else. We observe its operations, and we observe its effects, and the more attention a man chooses to give to any of these things, the farther and better he may compre- hend them all. This is especially true of mental philosophyor, indeed, spir- itual philosophy, as Mr. Withington would, perhaps, say; inasmuch as it is one of the advantages to a knowledge of our souls, that we always have them in possession; they are always, if I may so speak, near us. Every man has one soul, which he may make the subject of self-examination. The traveler is o- bli ged to cross seas and explore deserts be ore he can measure the pyramids or see the waters of the Nile. The astron- omer must prepare his glasses, and lift his telescope to the stars, before he can catch the objects of his science. Even the most familiar operations of the ma- terial world are objects external to us. We must look abroad to see them; and. there are mysteries in the most common process which no man can explain. But the mind is within usit is ourselves; and we are conscious of all its efforts and movements; and we have only to register in a faithful recollection what we have thought and felt, and our knowledge is complete, as far as human science can go. He then goes on to describe what the soul is not, and what it is. The follow- ing passage, in this connection, may be taken as a specimen of the writers style both of argument and composition. Matter must he moved as matter, and the soul must be omoved as a soul. If you wish to elevate a rock you apply a lever, but if you wish to move a soul, you apply a motive. If you wish to have a ship removed from the stocks, you knock away the blocks , and if you VOL. Ill. ii wish to have a miimd moove to any object, you take away prejudices and objections. Itis true, the mind is sometimes destroyed, as to its men- tal operations, by physical causes, as in cases of sickness, insanity, drunkenness, or a blow. But this is destroying action, rather than mov- ing the mind. The mind itself yields, in its healthful operations, to no powers but such as originate in mind. Even in cases of mel- ancholy and insanity, it is curious to see how the impulse originating in the nerves or the brain, moust assume a moral aspect before it can act on the mind. The causes in such case re physical, but they are always transform- ed into intellectual images by the mind, and in this way they obtain their tyrannic power. Insanity is transformed sensation; sensation transformed into delusory motives. Thus, a painful pressure on the brain, leads a mad- man to think that pain to be caused by a dungeon; by a chain; by a treason, and by an approaching trial. Now if you could strip the pang of all its moral appendages, i. e. take away all the moral, and leave the physical alone, he would not suffer half so much. There is a dou- ble pro ess here; the pain first causes the mental amplification of intellectual images, and these reflects hack and increase the pain. So a melan- choly mind always finds a whole host of suf- ficient causes. It is a kingdom admitting no laws but its own. It deals with error and with truth; with guilt and obedience; with hap- piness and misery; with conscience and with God. We can promise those who like the blending of metaphysics with morals a very rational treat in the perusal of this valuable discourse. The metaphysics are close enough for a doctor of the middle ages, but as clear as a clear head could make it, while the moral follows after like a shadow. A curious fact is furnished in one of the notes. Several old people have told me of a moan (in the county of Essex,) very intemperate, who, about thirty years of age, made a resolution that he would not drink a drop of spirit for forty years; he kept it, and the very hour the forty years were out, he returned to his cups, and died a drunkard. I have no doubt of the fact. But what an instance, to show that the will is mistress of her own election, & c. The Aihambra. By the Author of the Sketch Book. Two volumes of the Chronicles of Grenada, including sketches of Moor and Spaniard, might be supposed to have exhausted the authors materials, or observation. In some degree it has; and there are parts of the present work below the standard of Irving; though there are many excellent works that may well rank beneath that high grade. The Albambra, then, has not the fresh- ness and polish of the Sketch Book, nor the humor of the Dutch Herodotus. We are aware, that this has been called, in the London Literary Ga- zette, the best of Irvings works; but we have several to forget, before we can so believe. One of the longest and best of the

The Alhambra. By the Author of the Sketch Book Literary Notices 81-82

Literary Notices. ject with a manifestly deep sense both of its intricacy and its importance; but he has not, for that reason, any the less deliberately or laboriously entered into the examination. He thinks it not only a legitimate subject of philosophical as well as religious inquiry, but not alto- gether an unpromising, and far less a forbidden one. The soul, he says, is commonly regarded as something very hard to be understood. What is the soul? was a question once put to Man- vaux. 1 know nothing of it, he an- swered, but it is spiritual and immor- tal . Well, said his friend, let us ask Fontenelle, and he will tell us what it is. No cried Marivaux, ask any body but Fontenelle, for he has too much good sense to know any more about it than we do. Still, mysterious be- ings as we are, he supposes this subject to be just as much an object of success- ful investigation, as any thing else. We observe its operations, and we observe its effects, and the more attention a man chooses to give to any of these things, the farther and better he may compre- hend them all. This is especially true of mental philosophyor, indeed, spir- itual philosophy, as Mr. Withington would, perhaps, say; inasmuch as it is one of the advantages to a knowledge of our souls, that we always have them in possession; they are always, if I may so speak, near us. Every man has one soul, which he may make the subject of self-examination. The traveler is o- bli ged to cross seas and explore deserts be ore he can measure the pyramids or see the waters of the Nile. The astron- omer must prepare his glasses, and lift his telescope to the stars, before he can catch the objects of his science. Even the most familiar operations of the ma- terial world are objects external to us. We must look abroad to see them; and. there are mysteries in the most common process which no man can explain. But the mind is within usit is ourselves; and we are conscious of all its efforts and movements; and we have only to register in a faithful recollection what we have thought and felt, and our knowledge is complete, as far as human science can go. He then goes on to describe what the soul is not, and what it is. The follow- ing passage, in this connection, may be taken as a specimen of the writers style both of argument and composition. Matter must he moved as matter, and the soul must be omoved as a soul. If you wish to elevate a rock you apply a lever, but if you wish to move a soul, you apply a motive. If you wish to have a ship removed from the stocks, you knock away the blocks , and if you VOL. Ill. ii wish to have a miimd moove to any object, you take away prejudices and objections. Itis true, the mind is sometimes destroyed, as to its men- tal operations, by physical causes, as in cases of sickness, insanity, drunkenness, or a blow. But this is destroying action, rather than mov- ing the mind. The mind itself yields, in its healthful operations, to no powers but such as originate in mind. Even in cases of mel- ancholy and insanity, it is curious to see how the impulse originating in the nerves or the brain, moust assume a moral aspect before it can act on the mind. The causes in such case re physical, but they are always transform- ed into intellectual images by the mind, and in this way they obtain their tyrannic power. Insanity is transformed sensation; sensation transformed into delusory motives. Thus, a painful pressure on the brain, leads a mad- man to think that pain to be caused by a dungeon; by a chain; by a treason, and by an approaching trial. Now if you could strip the pang of all its moral appendages, i. e. take away all the moral, and leave the physical alone, he would not suffer half so much. There is a dou- ble pro ess here; the pain first causes the mental amplification of intellectual images, and these reflects hack and increase the pain. So a melan- choly mind always finds a whole host of suf- ficient causes. It is a kingdom admitting no laws but its own. It deals with error and with truth; with guilt and obedience; with hap- piness and misery; with conscience and with God. We can promise those who like the blending of metaphysics with morals a very rational treat in the perusal of this valuable discourse. The metaphysics are close enough for a doctor of the middle ages, but as clear as a clear head could make it, while the moral follows after like a shadow. A curious fact is furnished in one of the notes. Several old people have told me of a moan (in the county of Essex,) very intemperate, who, about thirty years of age, made a resolution that he would not drink a drop of spirit for forty years; he kept it, and the very hour the forty years were out, he returned to his cups, and died a drunkard. I have no doubt of the fact. But what an instance, to show that the will is mistress of her own election, & c. The Aihambra. By the Author of the Sketch Book. Two volumes of the Chronicles of Grenada, including sketches of Moor and Spaniard, might be supposed to have exhausted the authors materials, or observation. In some degree it has; and there are parts of the present work below the standard of Irving; though there are many excellent works that may well rank beneath that high grade. The Albambra, then, has not the fresh- ness and polish of the Sketch Book, nor the humor of the Dutch Herodotus. We are aware, that this has been called, in the London Literary Ga- zette, the best of Irvings works; but we have several to forget, before we can so believe. One of the longest and best of the Literary Notices. tales is that of Prince Ahmed al Ka- mel, or the Pilgrim of Love, which af- fords the author an opportunity of dis- playing his best powerthat is, a quiet, collateral satire and humor, that is not necessarily a part of the tale, but for which the tale seems, in part, to be a vehicle; so that it is hard to say which one was made for the other. Prince Ahmed, it was predicted by the astrolo- gers, who spoke upon safe grounds, without asking the stars, was threaten- ed with much danger from love, and his father shut him up in a tower, with the sage Bonabbon, from whom he could learn as little as from Cato the Censor. The sage,to renderthe imprisonmentless tedious to the Prince, instructed him in the language of birds, but found, too late, that the birds conversed upon little but the fatal and interdicted subjects. Every thing, in fact, conspired to re- mind the Prince of it, and to urge him to increase his knowledge of the myste- ry. Every thing to the captive breath- ed of love. Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name. The nightingale and the dove were, however, the chief instructers of the Prince; and the dove brought him a letter from a Princess, similarly impris- oned, for her tendency to similar ab- struse studies. He escaped from his prison, and under the guidance of an owl, began his travels to discover the Princess. A parrot became the emis- sary to the lady; and by the advice of his companions with a little aid from magic, Prince Ahmed accomplished the liberation of the Princess, and pass- ed, according to the established form, a happy life. Some of the colloquies with the owl are very comic. This wise bird became prime minister, and the parrot, master of ceremonies. It is needless to say, writes the author, that never was a realm inure sagely administered, or a court conducted with more exact punctilios. The Faith of the Pilgrims; a Ser- mon, delivered at Plymouth, on the Twenty- Second of December, 1831. By John Cod- man, D. D. After a brief sketch of the circum- stances under which the Forefathers of New-England commenced their pilgrim- age which has resulted in the erection of a new empire in the world, Dr. Cod- man institutes a comparison between those pilgrim fathers and the ancestors of the Jewish nation, and traces out affecting and wonderful resemblances. We were somewhat surprised, that a man of his religious opinions, should have given utterance to sentiments like the following. The frankness and can- dor of the writer is certainly to be com- mended; and we apprehend that few sectarian preachers of the present day, would be independent enough to tell so much truth, unasked for. The con- trast presented in the extract is striking. In these days of refinement,when there is more luxury and extravagance on that very soil, which was at the time of the landing of our fath- ers a dreary wilderness, and the abode of savage man, than existed in the long settled country of their nativity at tbe time of their embarkation, it iodifficult to conceive of the sacrifices,which they must have made, and the hardships, which they must have endured, in leaving their homes and firesides, and in effecting a settlement in a sav- age wilderness. We are accustomed, in these times, to speak of the sacrifices, made by the missionaries of the cross, and of the trials to which they are exposed, in leaving their native country to preach the gospel in foreign lands. But what are they, when compared with the sacrifices and hardships endured by our pilgrim fathers! The servant of the cross, bound to distant India, is as intimately acquainted with Calcutta, Bombay, and Ceylon, as if he had himself been a resident in those pagan cities, and the little missionary band, who have re- cently left our shores for the islands of the Pa- cific, are already familiar with the natural his- tory of the places of their intended residence, the former and the present improved character of the inhabitants,the present state and pros- pects of the mission, and even with the names, if ot with the persons of the individuals, who are expecting to greet their arrival on those dis- tant shores. Not so, with our pilgrim fathers; they knew little or nothing of the place where they intended to settle. They had no knowl- edge of the manners, customs, and language of the savage tribes, that inhabited the country where they expected to reside. All that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was, that it was far away from ecelesh stical domina- tion,that there was no hierarchy, to control their faith and mode of worshipno star cham- ber to test their conformity with fire and faggot, no royal prerogative of lordship over the con- science. Of almost every thing else, respecting the state and condition of the new world, they were ignorant. Considered as part of an exclusively religious celebration, the sermon is ex- ceedingly well adapted to the occasion. Its tone is catholic and liberal. A Discourse, delivered before the Massachusetts society for the Suppression of Intemperance, May 23, 1832. By William Sullivan. The occasion and the object of this publication we need not take the trou- ble to explain, it being already, we pre- sume, in extensive and useful circula- tion. The author has treated his sub- ject,common-place and almost offen- sive as it is,in such a manner as to make it really entertaining as well as instructive. Waiving statistics and mi

The Faith of the Pilgrims; a Sermon, delivered at Plymouth, on the Twenty-Second of December, 1831. By John Codman, D. D. Literary Notices 82

Literary Notices. tales is that of Prince Ahmed al Ka- mel, or the Pilgrim of Love, which af- fords the author an opportunity of dis- playing his best powerthat is, a quiet, collateral satire and humor, that is not necessarily a part of the tale, but for which the tale seems, in part, to be a vehicle; so that it is hard to say which one was made for the other. Prince Ahmed, it was predicted by the astrolo- gers, who spoke upon safe grounds, without asking the stars, was threaten- ed with much danger from love, and his father shut him up in a tower, with the sage Bonabbon, from whom he could learn as little as from Cato the Censor. The sage,to renderthe imprisonmentless tedious to the Prince, instructed him in the language of birds, but found, too late, that the birds conversed upon little but the fatal and interdicted subjects. Every thing, in fact, conspired to re- mind the Prince of it, and to urge him to increase his knowledge of the myste- ry. Every thing to the captive breath- ed of love. Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name. The nightingale and the dove were, however, the chief instructers of the Prince; and the dove brought him a letter from a Princess, similarly impris- oned, for her tendency to similar ab- struse studies. He escaped from his prison, and under the guidance of an owl, began his travels to discover the Princess. A parrot became the emis- sary to the lady; and by the advice of his companions with a little aid from magic, Prince Ahmed accomplished the liberation of the Princess, and pass- ed, according to the established form, a happy life. Some of the colloquies with the owl are very comic. This wise bird became prime minister, and the parrot, master of ceremonies. It is needless to say, writes the author, that never was a realm inure sagely administered, or a court conducted with more exact punctilios. The Faith of the Pilgrims; a Ser- mon, delivered at Plymouth, on the Twenty- Second of December, 1831. By John Cod- man, D. D. After a brief sketch of the circum- stances under which the Forefathers of New-England commenced their pilgrim- age which has resulted in the erection of a new empire in the world, Dr. Cod- man institutes a comparison between those pilgrim fathers and the ancestors of the Jewish nation, and traces out affecting and wonderful resemblances. We were somewhat surprised, that a man of his religious opinions, should have given utterance to sentiments like the following. The frankness and can- dor of the writer is certainly to be com- mended; and we apprehend that few sectarian preachers of the present day, would be independent enough to tell so much truth, unasked for. The con- trast presented in the extract is striking. In these days of refinement,when there is more luxury and extravagance on that very soil, which was at the time of the landing of our fath- ers a dreary wilderness, and the abode of savage man, than existed in the long settled country of their nativity at tbe time of their embarkation, it iodifficult to conceive of the sacrifices,which they must have made, and the hardships, which they must have endured, in leaving their homes and firesides, and in effecting a settlement in a sav- age wilderness. We are accustomed, in these times, to speak of the sacrifices, made by the missionaries of the cross, and of the trials to which they are exposed, in leaving their native country to preach the gospel in foreign lands. But what are they, when compared with the sacrifices and hardships endured by our pilgrim fathers! The servant of the cross, bound to distant India, is as intimately acquainted with Calcutta, Bombay, and Ceylon, as if he had himself been a resident in those pagan cities, and the little missionary band, who have re- cently left our shores for the islands of the Pa- cific, are already familiar with the natural his- tory of the places of their intended residence, the former and the present improved character of the inhabitants,the present state and pros- pects of the mission, and even with the names, if ot with the persons of the individuals, who are expecting to greet their arrival on those dis- tant shores. Not so, with our pilgrim fathers; they knew little or nothing of the place where they intended to settle. They had no knowl- edge of the manners, customs, and language of the savage tribes, that inhabited the country where they expected to reside. All that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was, that it was far away from ecelesh stical domina- tion,that there was no hierarchy, to control their faith and mode of worshipno star cham- ber to test their conformity with fire and faggot, no royal prerogative of lordship over the con- science. Of almost every thing else, respecting the state and condition of the new world, they were ignorant. Considered as part of an exclusively religious celebration, the sermon is ex- ceedingly well adapted to the occasion. Its tone is catholic and liberal. A Discourse, delivered before the Massachusetts society for the Suppression of Intemperance, May 23, 1832. By William Sullivan. The occasion and the object of this publication we need not take the trou- ble to explain, it being already, we pre- sume, in extensive and useful circula- tion. The author has treated his sub- ject,common-place and almost offen- sive as it is,in such a manner as to make it really entertaining as well as instructive. Waiving statistics and mi

A Discourse, delivered before the Massachusetts Society for the Suppression of Intemperance, May 23, 1832. By William Sullivan Literary Notices 82-83

Literary Notices. tales is that of Prince Ahmed al Ka- mel, or the Pilgrim of Love, which af- fords the author an opportunity of dis- playing his best powerthat is, a quiet, collateral satire and humor, that is not necessarily a part of the tale, but for which the tale seems, in part, to be a vehicle; so that it is hard to say which one was made for the other. Prince Ahmed, it was predicted by the astrolo- gers, who spoke upon safe grounds, without asking the stars, was threaten- ed with much danger from love, and his father shut him up in a tower, with the sage Bonabbon, from whom he could learn as little as from Cato the Censor. The sage,to renderthe imprisonmentless tedious to the Prince, instructed him in the language of birds, but found, too late, that the birds conversed upon little but the fatal and interdicted subjects. Every thing, in fact, conspired to re- mind the Prince of it, and to urge him to increase his knowledge of the myste- ry. Every thing to the captive breath- ed of love. Methought the billows spoke and told me of it; The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder, That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced The name. The nightingale and the dove were, however, the chief instructers of the Prince; and the dove brought him a letter from a Princess, similarly impris- oned, for her tendency to similar ab- struse studies. He escaped from his prison, and under the guidance of an owl, began his travels to discover the Princess. A parrot became the emis- sary to the lady; and by the advice of his companions with a little aid from magic, Prince Ahmed accomplished the liberation of the Princess, and pass- ed, according to the established form, a happy life. Some of the colloquies with the owl are very comic. This wise bird became prime minister, and the parrot, master of ceremonies. It is needless to say, writes the author, that never was a realm inure sagely administered, or a court conducted with more exact punctilios. The Faith of the Pilgrims; a Ser- mon, delivered at Plymouth, on the Twenty- Second of December, 1831. By John Cod- man, D. D. After a brief sketch of the circum- stances under which the Forefathers of New-England commenced their pilgrim- age which has resulted in the erection of a new empire in the world, Dr. Cod- man institutes a comparison between those pilgrim fathers and the ancestors of the Jewish nation, and traces out affecting and wonderful resemblances. We were somewhat surprised, that a man of his religious opinions, should have given utterance to sentiments like the following. The frankness and can- dor of the writer is certainly to be com- mended; and we apprehend that few sectarian preachers of the present day, would be independent enough to tell so much truth, unasked for. The con- trast presented in the extract is striking. In these days of refinement,when there is more luxury and extravagance on that very soil, which was at the time of the landing of our fath- ers a dreary wilderness, and the abode of savage man, than existed in the long settled country of their nativity at tbe time of their embarkation, it iodifficult to conceive of the sacrifices,which they must have made, and the hardships, which they must have endured, in leaving their homes and firesides, and in effecting a settlement in a sav- age wilderness. We are accustomed, in these times, to speak of the sacrifices, made by the missionaries of the cross, and of the trials to which they are exposed, in leaving their native country to preach the gospel in foreign lands. But what are they, when compared with the sacrifices and hardships endured by our pilgrim fathers! The servant of the cross, bound to distant India, is as intimately acquainted with Calcutta, Bombay, and Ceylon, as if he had himself been a resident in those pagan cities, and the little missionary band, who have re- cently left our shores for the islands of the Pa- cific, are already familiar with the natural his- tory of the places of their intended residence, the former and the present improved character of the inhabitants,the present state and pros- pects of the mission, and even with the names, if ot with the persons of the individuals, who are expecting to greet their arrival on those dis- tant shores. Not so, with our pilgrim fathers; they knew little or nothing of the place where they intended to settle. They had no knowl- edge of the manners, customs, and language of the savage tribes, that inhabited the country where they expected to reside. All that they knew, and all that they cared to know, was, that it was far away from ecelesh stical domina- tion,that there was no hierarchy, to control their faith and mode of worshipno star cham- ber to test their conformity with fire and faggot, no royal prerogative of lordship over the con- science. Of almost every thing else, respecting the state and condition of the new world, they were ignorant. Considered as part of an exclusively religious celebration, the sermon is ex- ceedingly well adapted to the occasion. Its tone is catholic and liberal. A Discourse, delivered before the Massachusetts society for the Suppression of Intemperance, May 23, 1832. By William Sullivan. The occasion and the object of this publication we need not take the trou- ble to explain, it being already, we pre- sume, in extensive and useful circula- tion. The author has treated his sub- ject,common-place and almost offen- sive as it is,in such a manner as to make it really entertaining as well as instructive. Waiving statistics and mi flute descriptions, in a great measure, he has looked into history and philos- ophy, and brought them hoth to hear, equally and effectively, in unison with the decision of common sense, which every mans own experience will con- firm. As introductory to his address, Mr. Sullivan has given a few facts and dates, connected with the origin and progress of the society he was address- ing, from which we learn that it origin- ated in 1805; that the Rev. Dr. Wor- cester, of Salem, wets the earliest mover, with a view to social measures of reform but what mind first conceived of the abolition of intemperance, cannot now be known. Mr. Sullivan says In Dec. 1813, a circularletter was issued, which is signed Samuel Dexter, and which contains onclusive internal evidence, that it came from the gifted mind of this eminent citizen. At the next anniversary meeting an address was deliv- ered by the reverend Dr. Kirkland, late presi- dent of Harvard University. The first officers of this society were chosen in 1813, and were as follows: The Hon. Samuel Dexter, Presi- dent; Gen. John Brooks, Dr. John Warren lion. Benjamin Pickman, Jr. Vice Presidents; Rev. Abiel Abbott, Corresponding Secretary; Rev. Joshua Huntin on, Recording Secretary; Samuel H. Walley, Esq. Treasurer; Rev. John T. Kirkland, Rev. John Lathrop, Rev. Samuel Worcester, Hon. Nathan Dane, Hon. Timothy Bigelow, 11ev. John Pierce, Richard Sullivan, Esq. Jeremiah Evarts, Esq. Counsellors. Notwithstanding the eminent names which appear in these earliest efforts, and the faithful labors bestowed, the plan received little en- couragernent. It was held, by many sensible men, to be visionary. The use of ardent spir- its was then so common ; ithad been so long approved ; it was so interwoven with the cus- toms of social life, that it was honestly believ- ed to be irremediable by individual exertions, systematic combinations, or penal laws. Yet the original founders persevered ; many of thorn lived to rejoice in their labors; to behold radical changes in private opinion; the establishment of numerous societies ; and to die in the be- lief, that the day would come, in which the use of ardent spirits, as driak, would be entirely abolished. This effort at reform may be likened to the enterprize of our pilgrim fathers. The question which these adventurers must have put to themselves, and must have answered affirma- tively, wasCan the natives of the forest, who hold by a right transmitted throu~h a~es, be in- duced to retire, the wilderness be annihilated the beams of the sun admitted, and the earth adapted to civilization? So the reformers of in- temperance roust have asked, and must have answered, the questions: Can we as~ail and subdue a practice pervading all classes, to which no reproach is attached, and which is connected with manly and generous virtues? Can we pour in upon the benighted and deluded world, the - beams of truth, emanating from Hun, who founded the law of self-respect, and self-inter- est? They answered as the pilgrims answered This can be done; and, with the blessings of the ALMIGHTY, it shall be dsue. Already, these laborers have advanced so far, and so many isave joirred in the enterprize, that the border of this dark wilderness is cleared, and is widening and penet.ratin~ and. the 83 echoes of tise axe resound In the forest, which is next to fall and disappear. There are several very forcible pas- sages in the address, which we would extract, hut that, as above hinted, it is presumed, that the pamphlet is in the. hands of the greater portion of the New-England population. Some of the writers arguments in reference to the trade in ardent spirits, will not be ad- mitted, at present, as legitimate; and many, no doubt, will reproach him as a meddler with other mens affairs. In the extract which follows, the Legisla- ture will find an ample apology for the caution it has observed, in reference to propositions, which, however well-in- tended, would, if adopted, have excit- ed an evil, worse than that for which it is so desirable to provide a remedy. Legislative and executive authority re some- times reproached among us, for the facilities which they afford for the sale of ardent spirits. It is not to be supposed that the moral condi- tion of society depends on statute laws. Suds laws provide remedies for private wrongs, for the regulation of public rights and duties, and for the punishment of misdemeanors, and great crimes. They do not reach practices, which are right, according to the existing state of pub- lic sentiment. As all legislative bodies and all executive of- ficers, who depend on popular elections, legis- late, and act pursuant to their perception of the public will; if we would have legislation con- sistent with tile calls of humanity, and have ex- ecutive discretion applied to reform, it roust first be established, that the public voice de- mands such legislation and reform. In every nation, where no military subjection is estab- lished, as good laws, and as good rules are found, as the majority desire, or, certainly, as good as that majority are suited to have. In the case before us, the labors of reformers are not ad- dressed only to those who make laws and those who grant licenses to sell spirits, but to all rea- sonable beings throughout the community. When these, or a powerful majority of them, feel, that it is dis aceful to license the sale, or permit the sale of ardent spirits, the laws will become, just what the majority would have them to be; and executive officers will know, that such laws must be enforced, or that their powers will soon corare to an end. The day is, probably, not very distant, when our laws will prohibit, under eriffici ut penalties, the sale of an article, which is admitted try all who pretend to know right from wrong, to be not only unne- cessary, but the principal cause of disqualifica- tion to perform any civic or social duty; and the promotive cause of nearly all the crimes which disgrace the age. Unless we entirely misunderstand the history of mankind, the de- sign of rerans creation, and his power over himself to promote his own welfare, the use of ardent spirits will, eventusally, be abolished, and society will fence out its presence with as much zeal and sincerity, as though it were a fa- tal and unsparing pestilence. Ladies Family Library. By Mrs. Child. Vol. t. The publishers propose to continue this work to several volumes. In the present volume are biographies of Mad- Literary Notices.

Ladies' Family Library. By Mrs. Child Literary Notices 83-84

flute descriptions, in a great measure, he has looked into history and philos- ophy, and brought them hoth to hear, equally and effectively, in unison with the decision of common sense, which every mans own experience will con- firm. As introductory to his address, Mr. Sullivan has given a few facts and dates, connected with the origin and progress of the society he was address- ing, from which we learn that it origin- ated in 1805; that the Rev. Dr. Wor- cester, of Salem, wets the earliest mover, with a view to social measures of reform but what mind first conceived of the abolition of intemperance, cannot now be known. Mr. Sullivan says In Dec. 1813, a circularletter was issued, which is signed Samuel Dexter, and which contains onclusive internal evidence, that it came from the gifted mind of this eminent citizen. At the next anniversary meeting an address was deliv- ered by the reverend Dr. Kirkland, late presi- dent of Harvard University. The first officers of this society were chosen in 1813, and were as follows: The Hon. Samuel Dexter, Presi- dent; Gen. John Brooks, Dr. John Warren lion. Benjamin Pickman, Jr. Vice Presidents; Rev. Abiel Abbott, Corresponding Secretary; Rev. Joshua Huntin on, Recording Secretary; Samuel H. Walley, Esq. Treasurer; Rev. John T. Kirkland, Rev. John Lathrop, Rev. Samuel Worcester, Hon. Nathan Dane, Hon. Timothy Bigelow, 11ev. John Pierce, Richard Sullivan, Esq. Jeremiah Evarts, Esq. Counsellors. Notwithstanding the eminent names which appear in these earliest efforts, and the faithful labors bestowed, the plan received little en- couragernent. It was held, by many sensible men, to be visionary. The use of ardent spir- its was then so common ; ithad been so long approved ; it was so interwoven with the cus- toms of social life, that it was honestly believ- ed to be irremediable by individual exertions, systematic combinations, or penal laws. Yet the original founders persevered ; many of thorn lived to rejoice in their labors; to behold radical changes in private opinion; the establishment of numerous societies ; and to die in the be- lief, that the day would come, in which the use of ardent spirits, as driak, would be entirely abolished. This effort at reform may be likened to the enterprize of our pilgrim fathers. The question which these adventurers must have put to themselves, and must have answered affirma- tively, wasCan the natives of the forest, who hold by a right transmitted throu~h a~es, be in- duced to retire, the wilderness be annihilated the beams of the sun admitted, and the earth adapted to civilization? So the reformers of in- temperance roust have asked, and must have answered, the questions: Can we as~ail and subdue a practice pervading all classes, to which no reproach is attached, and which is connected with manly and generous virtues? Can we pour in upon the benighted and deluded world, the - beams of truth, emanating from Hun, who founded the law of self-respect, and self-inter- est? They answered as the pilgrims answered This can be done; and, with the blessings of the ALMIGHTY, it shall be dsue. Already, these laborers have advanced so far, and so many isave joirred in the enterprize, that the border of this dark wilderness is cleared, and is widening and penet.ratin~ and. the 83 echoes of tise axe resound In the forest, which is next to fall and disappear. There are several very forcible pas- sages in the address, which we would extract, hut that, as above hinted, it is presumed, that the pamphlet is in the. hands of the greater portion of the New-England population. Some of the writers arguments in reference to the trade in ardent spirits, will not be ad- mitted, at present, as legitimate; and many, no doubt, will reproach him as a meddler with other mens affairs. In the extract which follows, the Legisla- ture will find an ample apology for the caution it has observed, in reference to propositions, which, however well-in- tended, would, if adopted, have excit- ed an evil, worse than that for which it is so desirable to provide a remedy. Legislative and executive authority re some- times reproached among us, for the facilities which they afford for the sale of ardent spirits. It is not to be supposed that the moral condi- tion of society depends on statute laws. Suds laws provide remedies for private wrongs, for the regulation of public rights and duties, and for the punishment of misdemeanors, and great crimes. They do not reach practices, which are right, according to the existing state of pub- lic sentiment. As all legislative bodies and all executive of- ficers, who depend on popular elections, legis- late, and act pursuant to their perception of the public will; if we would have legislation con- sistent with tile calls of humanity, and have ex- ecutive discretion applied to reform, it roust first be established, that the public voice de- mands such legislation and reform. In every nation, where no military subjection is estab- lished, as good laws, and as good rules are found, as the majority desire, or, certainly, as good as that majority are suited to have. In the case before us, the labors of reformers are not ad- dressed only to those who make laws and those who grant licenses to sell spirits, but to all rea- sonable beings throughout the community. When these, or a powerful majority of them, feel, that it is dis aceful to license the sale, or permit the sale of ardent spirits, the laws will become, just what the majority would have them to be; and executive officers will know, that such laws must be enforced, or that their powers will soon corare to an end. The day is, probably, not very distant, when our laws will prohibit, under eriffici ut penalties, the sale of an article, which is admitted try all who pretend to know right from wrong, to be not only unne- cessary, but the principal cause of disqualifica- tion to perform any civic or social duty; and the promotive cause of nearly all the crimes which disgrace the age. Unless we entirely misunderstand the history of mankind, the de- sign of rerans creation, and his power over himself to promote his own welfare, the use of ardent spirits will, eventusally, be abolished, and society will fence out its presence with as much zeal and sincerity, as though it were a fa- tal and unsparing pestilence. Ladies Family Library. By Mrs. Child. Vol. t. The publishers propose to continue this work to several volumes. In the present volume are biographies of Mad- Literary Notices. 84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices.

Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discussed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated Literary Notices 84

84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices.

Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson Literary Notices 84

84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices.

Commentaries on the Law of Bailments. By J. Story, LL. D. 1832 Literary Notices 84-85

84 ame de Stael, and Madame Roland, the two most extraordinary women of their time. The materials for a life of the former are not very full, and they were much scattered in various works; Mad- ame Roland, however, left a most mi- nute and interesting account of herself. The Ladies Family Library forms a neat and instructive volume. Correspondence between the First Church and the Tabernacle Church in Salem. In which the Duties of Churches are discuss- ed, and the Rights of Conscience vindicated. This is a pamphlet of nearly two hun- dred pages, mostly occupied with con- troversial-religious tuatter, upon the merits of which we shall not here un- dertake to decide. The occasion of it was the application of a lady who had left one of these Churches, for admit- tance to the other. The views of the former, in relation to the propriety of granting the request, are given succinct- ly in a Report appended, among other documents, to the Correspondence. Most of the pamphlet is understood, we believe, to be from the pen of the Junior Pastor of the First Church. Biography of Stephen Girard. By Stephen Simpson. The subject of this biography has been long known to the public as a most opulent banker. Something, also, of his peculiarities of temper, or, as his biographer would call them, of genius, were known; but Mr. Simpson has sup- plied much more. his means for gain- ing information were great, and his facts are probably indisputable. But up- on these facts he builds a strange theo- ry, namely, that Girard was, during his whole life, incited by the high ambi- tion of posthumous fame; or, in other words, that while he lived, he was sor- did, avaricious and unfeeling, that his benevolence and philanthropy might be the more apparent to posterity. The book contains so many traits of Girard, that it will be acceptable to all who de- light in strange and anomalous charac- ters. A correspondent has furnished some notice of it in another part of the Magazine. Commentaries on the Law of Bail- ments. By J. Story, LL. D. t532. This work will be welcomed by the legal profession, in this country cer- tainly, and, we doubt riot, in England also, with even more than the deference, which is usually paid to the productions of its distinguished author. It is a work much needed, both theoretically and practically, for the man of business, for the lawyer, and, of course, for the student. No principles are of more common ap- plication than those relating to the Law of Bailments. Judge Story makes that term equivalent to a delivery of a thing in trust for some special obje t or pur- pose, and upon a contract, express or implied, to conform to the object or pur- pose of the trust. This definition in- cludes Deposites, Mandates, (bailments without fee,) Loans for use, Pawns, and Hiringsthe latter department alone comprising four sub-divisions. Under one of them is discussed the law of the right and responsibility OfWAEEHOTJSE- MEN, of WnAaFscccEas, of FACTORS and BAILIFFs. Separate treatises are also appropriated to Po sT-MAsTERs, INN- KEEPERS, COMMON-CARRIERS, and CAR- RIER5 of PASSENGE as. It must be obvi- ous to any man, who trades or travels, in any line of business, or in any sec- tion of the country, that principles re- lating to these subjects cannot but be continually coming up for his own de- cision. The saving of time, trouble, vexation, delay and expense, which might be effected by a tolerable familiar- ity with them, on the part of every citi- zen, is really beyond calculation. In regard to the profession, whose substantive business it is to be familiar with these matters, they need not be re- minded of tie deficiencies heretofore existing in this branch of the law. Blackstone devotes less than two pages to the whole subject of Bailments. Sir William Joness Essay is indeed a mas- ter-piece of elegant and learned disser- tation. But that, like Blackstones more linilted treatise, is by no means without inaccuracies and deficiences, so far as it purports to go. Nor does it go far enough. The most valuable part of the Law of Bailments has been, not formed indeed, but precisely ascertained, thor- oughly established, and minutely illus- tinted, since the publication of the Essay. The illustrations which Judge Story has all along borrowed from the Civil and Continental Law of Europe, are also an addition of great value and great interest. The extraordinary res- earch devoted to this volume is really a matter of admiration; the labor must have been prodigious. The style is characteristically luminous, elegant and exact. It is the materiel of a practical man~ in the manner of an accomplished scholar. Literary Notices. DEATHS, AND OBITUARY NOTICES OF PERSONS LATELY DECEASED. In Lincoln, the Hon. SAMUEL HOAR, aged . This excellent man lived to a great and good purpose, and set a worthy example in public and private,in faithfalness, industry, temper- ance, and the virtues which adorn the social circle and the ordinary walks of life. The sphere in which he moved, by the allotment of Divine Providence, was not indeed so enlarged and conspicuous as that of many others but for real worth of character and usefulness in society, he was excelled by few; and he justly merited the high respect and atitude of his fellow citizens. Through protracted and ac- tive life, and in various offices, he sustained a character uniform, dignified and religious. The natural powers of his mind were strong and vigorous above mediocrity, and were cultivated by mental exertion and a wise improvement of the advantages within his reach. He was a thinking and reasoaia~, man, but not loquacious nor ambitious. He was a warm and zealous patriot,was engaged as an officer in the fight at Concord, on the memorable 19th of April, 1775, and afterwards in the Continental army; and from that time, till advanced age, he was employed in public business. At some periods, his political opinions, as to men and measures, differed from those of some of his copatriots and other distinguished characters; but no one call- ed in question the uprightness of his intentions, nor his love of country and liberty with or- der. For a long series of years he represented his native town in the General Court, and for a number was a member of the Senate. As a magistrate of the county he long held a com- mission, and held the sword of justice not in vain. In the relation of citizen, husband, pa- rent, and neighbor, he won the affection, re- spect, and honor of all connected with him, and was acknowledged a great support and blessing to the town and the church. Having early professed the Christian religion and perse- vered in its practice, he enjoyed its consola- tions in his last painful disorder. Being satis~ fled with life, sub missive to the will of God, and sustained by the hope of the gospel, he quietly fell asleep. lii Boston, BICHARO DERBY, Esq. formerly a Captain in the United States Navy, aged 97. Capt. Derby was a native of Salem, and for many years a most active ship-master, alike distinguished for his enterprize and humanity. About the year 1793 or 1794, the French Con- sul went to Salem, with the principal French gentlemen in Boston, and presented him the colors of the French Republic, for his humanity in taking a large a number of Frenchmen, o were left by the English in a state of starvation and transporting them where they would be re- lieved. When the Essex Frigate was built by the Salem merchants for the government, Capt. Derby, at their recommendation, was aupointed to the command, but not arriving in season, he was appointed to the command of another ship. He served several years as a Captain in the Navy, and if he had not resigned, would have been for many years past the senior officer in the Navy. But being engaged successfully in commerce, he did not think it proper, whilst pursuing his mercantile operations, to hold his commission, and resigned. Having sustained a reverse of fortune, he was appointed by Pres- ident Adams, Navy Agent at Pensacolafrom this office he was removed by President Jack- son, and about a year since was appointed to the command of the Revenue Cutter. In Boston, June 19, Mr. ROBERT H. HOWARO1 aged 21. He was drowned with eight other gentlemen of the city, by the upsetting of a boat in the harbor. The memory of the virtues is a precious in- heritance to the living ;and when such are taken from us by a striking dispensation of Providence, and under circumstances peculiarly distressing and painful the remembrance of what they were, and a faithful delineation of their character, is not only necessary but useful as a source of consolation to the mourner, as an example to the living, and as an act of justice to those whose departure we are called upon so feelingly and truly to lament. Of this number is ROBERT H. HowARn. He was just entering upon the active business and duties of life, engaging with earnestness in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and was soon to have bound himself by a still dearer tie to society, when the silver cord was loosed and his usefulness terminated, by the calamity of the past week, and brought to an early, we had almost said, a premature death. Young How- ard was educated at our public schools, and such was his diligence, application, and talents, that on leaving the High School he was as con- spicuous for his attainments, as he was respect- ed and beloved for his amiable deportment, his benevolence of feeling, and the purity of his moral character. His classmates will long remember him as a member of the Scholars Club, and the interest which he at all times manifested in the welfare of each and all of their number. For a young man, his umind was uncommonly mature. His thoughts on most subjects were accurate, and well defined; and there was a propriety and modesty in the ex- pression which he gave to them that won the regard even of those who were personally strangers to him. In more than one particular he was a model for the young. At the early age, we think, of seventeen, he became a teach- er in the Sunday School of the Society where he worshipped; and those who were associated with him in this labor, will long delight to dwell upon the interest which he manifested in this important subject, the striking punctuality and consistency with which he always met his little class to the last Sunday which he spent on earth,and the intelligence, engagedness, and love which he brought to the performance of this interesting duty. He cherished habitually serious impressions for himself, and endeavored to impart them to those entrusted to his care. By precept, however, as well as by example, it was his constant aim to associate all that was pleasant, and cheerful, and truly happy,with the subject of Religion ; and no precepts or living example could be more persuasive than lila, to accompliels this desirable end. There was another trait in the character of young Howard which we must not omit to notice. This trait was the earnest desire he constantly exhibited to develop in equal proportions all the faculties of his nature and the result of it was, a beau- tiful propriety in the discharge of all his duties, relative, social, political and religious. Young as he was, he had already won no small space in the cousfidence of the community. Active in the associations to which he belonged, he was called, at times, to act in an official manner in plans of benevolence and usefulness. But his deportment was so unassuming, his discharge of duty so faithful and acceptable, and his nuan- ners so kind and conciliating, that the en-

Deaths, and Obituary Notices of Persons Lately Deceased "Deaths, and Obituary Notices of Persons Lately Deceased" 85-88

DEATHS, AND OBITUARY NOTICES OF PERSONS LATELY DECEASED. In Lincoln, the Hon. SAMUEL HOAR, aged . This excellent man lived to a great and good purpose, and set a worthy example in public and private,in faithfalness, industry, temper- ance, and the virtues which adorn the social circle and the ordinary walks of life. The sphere in which he moved, by the allotment of Divine Providence, was not indeed so enlarged and conspicuous as that of many others but for real worth of character and usefulness in society, he was excelled by few; and he justly merited the high respect and atitude of his fellow citizens. Through protracted and ac- tive life, and in various offices, he sustained a character uniform, dignified and religious. The natural powers of his mind were strong and vigorous above mediocrity, and were cultivated by mental exertion and a wise improvement of the advantages within his reach. He was a thinking and reasoaia~, man, but not loquacious nor ambitious. He was a warm and zealous patriot,was engaged as an officer in the fight at Concord, on the memorable 19th of April, 1775, and afterwards in the Continental army; and from that time, till advanced age, he was employed in public business. At some periods, his political opinions, as to men and measures, differed from those of some of his copatriots and other distinguished characters; but no one call- ed in question the uprightness of his intentions, nor his love of country and liberty with or- der. For a long series of years he represented his native town in the General Court, and for a number was a member of the Senate. As a magistrate of the county he long held a com- mission, and held the sword of justice not in vain. In the relation of citizen, husband, pa- rent, and neighbor, he won the affection, re- spect, and honor of all connected with him, and was acknowledged a great support and blessing to the town and the church. Having early professed the Christian religion and perse- vered in its practice, he enjoyed its consola- tions in his last painful disorder. Being satis~ fled with life, sub missive to the will of God, and sustained by the hope of the gospel, he quietly fell asleep. lii Boston, BICHARO DERBY, Esq. formerly a Captain in the United States Navy, aged 97. Capt. Derby was a native of Salem, and for many years a most active ship-master, alike distinguished for his enterprize and humanity. About the year 1793 or 1794, the French Con- sul went to Salem, with the principal French gentlemen in Boston, and presented him the colors of the French Republic, for his humanity in taking a large a number of Frenchmen, o were left by the English in a state of starvation and transporting them where they would be re- lieved. When the Essex Frigate was built by the Salem merchants for the government, Capt. Derby, at their recommendation, was aupointed to the command, but not arriving in season, he was appointed to the command of another ship. He served several years as a Captain in the Navy, and if he had not resigned, would have been for many years past the senior officer in the Navy. But being engaged successfully in commerce, he did not think it proper, whilst pursuing his mercantile operations, to hold his commission, and resigned. Having sustained a reverse of fortune, he was appointed by Pres- ident Adams, Navy Agent at Pensacolafrom this office he was removed by President Jack- son, and about a year since was appointed to the command of the Revenue Cutter. In Boston, June 19, Mr. ROBERT H. HOWARO1 aged 21. He was drowned with eight other gentlemen of the city, by the upsetting of a boat in the harbor. The memory of the virtues is a precious in- heritance to the living ;and when such are taken from us by a striking dispensation of Providence, and under circumstances peculiarly distressing and painful the remembrance of what they were, and a faithful delineation of their character, is not only necessary but useful as a source of consolation to the mourner, as an example to the living, and as an act of justice to those whose departure we are called upon so feelingly and truly to lament. Of this number is ROBERT H. HowARn. He was just entering upon the active business and duties of life, engaging with earnestness in the benevolent enterprises of the day, and was soon to have bound himself by a still dearer tie to society, when the silver cord was loosed and his usefulness terminated, by the calamity of the past week, and brought to an early, we had almost said, a premature death. Young How- ard was educated at our public schools, and such was his diligence, application, and talents, that on leaving the High School he was as con- spicuous for his attainments, as he was respect- ed and beloved for his amiable deportment, his benevolence of feeling, and the purity of his moral character. His classmates will long remember him as a member of the Scholars Club, and the interest which he at all times manifested in the welfare of each and all of their number. For a young man, his umind was uncommonly mature. His thoughts on most subjects were accurate, and well defined; and there was a propriety and modesty in the ex- pression which he gave to them that won the regard even of those who were personally strangers to him. In more than one particular he was a model for the young. At the early age, we think, of seventeen, he became a teach- er in the Sunday School of the Society where he worshipped; and those who were associated with him in this labor, will long delight to dwell upon the interest which he manifested in this important subject, the striking punctuality and consistency with which he always met his little class to the last Sunday which he spent on earth,and the intelligence, engagedness, and love which he brought to the performance of this interesting duty. He cherished habitually serious impressions for himself, and endeavored to impart them to those entrusted to his care. By precept, however, as well as by example, it was his constant aim to associate all that was pleasant, and cheerful, and truly happy,with the subject of Religion ; and no precepts or living example could be more persuasive than lila, to accompliels this desirable end. There was another trait in the character of young Howard which we must not omit to notice. This trait was the earnest desire he constantly exhibited to develop in equal proportions all the faculties of his nature and the result of it was, a beau- tiful propriety in the discharge of all his duties, relative, social, political and religious. Young as he was, he had already won no small space in the cousfidence of the community. Active in the associations to which he belonged, he was called, at times, to act in an official manner in plans of benevolence and usefulness. But his deportment was so unassuming, his discharge of duty so faithful and acceptable, and his nuan- ners so kind and conciliating, that the en- Obituary Noticcl. vious envlcd hhn not, the young and thought- less were disposed to imitate, and the old re- joiced in the promise which he gave of great future usefulness. In business, he displayed activity, intelligence and strict probity; and had intimated that at the propertimne he should make the necessary sacrifice in it to subserve the great cause of Temperance. The loss of such an indi- vidual must be deeply deplored, even by the com- munity at large. But at home where he w~ an only and beloved sonwhere he was the idol of affectionate sisters, and where he was gar- nered up in the heart of one still more dear, if possible,it would be a vain attempt to repress their unutterable anguish by any words of con- solation. They must find them in the rich le~acy he has left behind hun, insuch aninesti- mable and interesting character; in the hope that he has gone before to receive an eternal re- ward; and, above all, to seek for an unfailing support, where he himself would have brought them to seek it, in the hopes, promises, and re- wards of the Gospel. In Swanzey, Mr. SAMUEL HILLs, aged 75, a soldier of the revolution, and one of the few survivors of the ill-fated Canada campaign of 1775. He was taken prisoner on the retreat of the American army from Canada, in the spring of 1776, and suffered every thing that human nature could endure in the dungeons of Mon- treal. In October of that year, he was libera- ted on parole by the humane Sir Guy Carlton, then Governor of Canada, and sent to Crown Point in an armed shipfrom thence, being unable to walk, on account of long confinement and disease, he traversed the then wilderness of Vermont, s cr tehes-. The effect of these early sufferings in the sacred cause of freedom, he felt through life; but the only compensation he ever received from his country, was a few continental shillings. Ole was an intelligent, honest man, and his life was one of religion and virtue. In Warren, R. I. Nathaniel Phillips, Req. in the 76th year of his age. He was an officer in the Revolutionary army, and faithfully served his country during the whole course of that eventful struggle, which terminated so glorious- ly for the cause of liberty. He served in Sul- livans expedition on Rhode Island; and shared in all the sufferings that befel the American ar- my in their retreat through New-Jersey. At the organization of the Federal Government, Mr. Phillips was appointed by Gen. Washi,sg- ton, surveyor of the port of Warren; which office he continued to lmold until his death. He has, also, during the last thirty years, served as Secretary to the Warren Insurance Com- pany. He served an apprenticcshi.p to the printing business, in Boston, and subsequently was employed in the office of Isaiah Thomas, Esq. and in 1792, established in Warren, the Herald of the United States, the first paper printed in the county, and continued it for a number of years. In Fallsburg, N. V. GARRET VAN BENscue- TEN, aged 77. He took an active part in achiev- ing our independence; he was in several en- gagements, and was at the battle of Fort Mont- gomery; he was one of the few that stood by their cannon and continued to fire on time enemy until they came up to wrest a torch from the hand of Capt. Bruyn, whose invincible courage would not permit him to show the enemy his back on such occasions. Jn New-Vork, Mr. RoereT DUNN, 74. During the revolutionary ~var, Mr. Dunn was a rum- mandem of the express riders, and in this im- portant station was actively and efficiently en- gaged dsmriug the whole xvar, under the very eye of the Fattier of our Country, ~vhose confidence ho enjoyed, and by whom he was er,trusted with the most important secrets of tIme war. In Reading, Penn June 10, JosErH HEISTER, aged 81, greatly beloved by his family and friends, and generally esteemed by all who had the happiness of his acquaintance. He served 8 ihhfully and creditably as an officer in the war of independence. He was a member of the Convention which formed the Constitution of Pennsylvania; he sat for several years in the Scm Ic of Pennsylvania, and was many times elected to serve, and did for mnany sessions seeve in the House of Representatives of the United States. In 1820 he was elected Governor of Pennsylvania, and discharged the imuportant duties of that high station to public satisfac- tion and to the promotion of the public weal. lie declined a re-election, and from that period lived happily in the bosom of his family. At Mount Vernon, on the 14th of June, of a protracted pulmonary complaint, JsHN AUCUs- TIN WAsumNuvoN, in the 44th year of his age. This estimable gentleman was the eldest sur- viving child of Corbin W shin on, who was a nephew to General Washington, and a brother of the late venerated Judge Washing- ton. Mr. Corbin Washington died early in life, but his infant children found in the benev- olent Judge a umost anxious, indulgent, and ju- dicious parent, who, but a short time since be- queathed the famimily mansion (a place of so much interest) to the lamented subject of this notice, who has so speedily followed his uncle to the tomxmb. Mr. Washingtoml, fromam taste, de- voted himself to ajicultural pursuits, in which his habit of thinking and acting fitted him to be, as he was, emninenthy successful. His manners wers gentle and unassuming. No man everhad a kinder heart, and few men a more discrimi- nating or unerring jmmdgement; yet, so retiring was he that those alone could jmmsthy estimate the higher qualities of his smature who had the happiness of an intimate arminaintance with him. His life furnished an example of scrupu- lous discharge of every domestic and social duty. In Alexandria, Va. Hon CHARLEs C. JoHN- STON, one of the Representatives feoma Vir- ginia in the Congress of the Unitemi States. The circumstances of his deatim are reported thus: He had gone to Alexandria to visit a friend, on Smmnday, June 17; ice passed thce evening at his friends lcommse, and left it, in the midst of the storm then raging, to go to the wharf, with a view to take passage on board the umail-boat Sydney, which leaves Alexandria at about nine oclock, P. H. for the city of ~1T shin~ .on. He was attended by a servant, who left him when he had shown himoc within si hi of the wharf. This was the last seen or heard of him until his body xv~ s found on Mon- day afternoon. It is beyond a doubt that he walked into the ship, and struck his head in falling, or he would have saved himself, being an expert swimmamer. His remamus were car- ried to his lodgings on Tuesday mamorning, at- tended by a comucittee of the Corporation of Alexandria. This enelancholy occurremmce cast a gloomem over Congress. Its fatality, indepen- dently of the merits of the deceased, produced a deep sensation. By those who knew him, his death is doubly grieved, his chmaracter for talents and integrity being embellished by the most emcde~ ring personal qmcahitics. His funeral took place fromn the capitol on Tuesday after- noon, amcd was attended by all Congress, both 1le,mses havin5 adjourned as soon as his death was announced. At isis residence, Southc-Mommut, South-Carohi- isa, omc lice 1st of June, Ceo. THOMAS SUMTER, at a very advanced age. TIce fohhowing bin- 86 Obituary Notices. soon after, in the of Virginia. Early iarolina, anti settled nich at that time was hostility of the Indians. Ce then commenced his ulness; for we find that ~okee war, he accom- he Emperor, to Eng- and. ~~oner to s.enowee. Des Johones xvas afterwards sent to Charleston where he was examined and though his guilt was not positively proved, it was deemed expedient to send him to England. From Gen. Sumters letter to the State Rights Association in February last, we learn that he was in Charleston during the high excitement preceding the war of the Revolution, probably in 1774 and 1775, a time to which the letter re- verts with great satisfaction as the period when he enjoyed with the old Whig party of Cam- linaan interchange of the same sentiments which animate the Nullifiers of the present day. We next meet with the name of Sumter in the history of thfii state, in 1780. I-Ic had been previously a colonel of one of the continental regiments, and when in that year the British had overrun the state, he would not remain to submit, but retired with other determined pat- riots into North-Carolina. During his abscence his house was burned, and his family turned out of doors by the British. The little band of exiles in North-Carolina chose him their leader, and at their head he returned to face the victo- rious enemy. When this gallant incursion was made, the people of the slate had for the most part abandoned the idea of resistance and mil- itary operations had been suspended for nearly ~wo months. His followers were in a great measure unfurnished with food, clothing, and ammunition. Farming utensils were worked up by common blacksmiths to supply them with arms. Household pewter was melted into bul- lets; and they sometimes engaged with not three rounds to a man. With a volunteer force thus equipped, he commenced hostilities and broke the quiet of subjection into which Caro- lina seemed to be sinking. On the 12th July, 1780, he attacked a British detachment on the Catawba, supported by a considerable force of toriesand totally routed a A dispersed the whole force, killing Capt. hack, who commanded the British, and Cot. Ferguson who comm nded the Tories. Ani- mated by this success, the inhabitants flocked to his standard; and being reinforced to the number of 600 men, he made a spirited attack on the British post at Rocky Mount, but was repulsed. Marching immediately in quest of other detachments of the enemy, in eight days after, he attacked the post at Ilse Hanging Rock, where he annihilated the Prince of Waless Regiment, and pill to fli~ht a large body of Tories from North-Carolina. When Sum- ters men went into this battle, not one of them had more than ten bs,llets, and towards the close of the fight, the arms and ammunition of the fallen British and Tories were used by the Americans. While the American army, tinder the unfor- tunate Gates, were approachiin5 Camden, Col. Sumter was on the west bank of the Wateree, augmenting his forces and indulging the hope of intercepting the British on their way to Charles- ton, as their retreat or defeat was confidently expected. He here formed a plan for reducing a British redoubt at Wateree Ferry, and inter- cepting a Convoy on the road from Charleston to Camden, in both of which objects he fully succeededand the news of his success reached Gates, while that officer was retreating after his defeat. Hearing of the disaster at Camden, Sumter retreated with his prisoners and spoils up the Wateree, to Fishing Creek, where he wan overtaken by Tarleton on the 18th. The Americans had been four days without provis- ions or sleep, and their videttes being exhaust- ed, suffered them to be surprised ; the conse- quence was their total rout and dispersion. The loss which Sumter sustained was, how- ever, soon repaired, for in three days he rallied his troops, and was again at the head of a re- spectable force. At the head of his little band augmented from time to time by reinforcements - of volunteers, he kept the field unsupported; while, for three months, there was no regular or Continental army in the state. He shifted his position frequently in the vicinity of Broad, Enoree and Tyger Rivers, maintaining a con- tinual skirmishing with the enemy, beating up their quarters, cuttin5 off their supplies, and harassing them by incessant incursions anmi alarms. On the 12th of November he was attacked at Broad-river by a corps of British infantry and dragoons under Major Weyms. He utterly de- feated them and took their commander prisoner. On the 20th of November, he was attacked at Black Stocks, on Tiger River, by Tarleton, whons lie repulsed after a severe and obstinate ction. larleton claimed a victoryon which Coruwallis wrote to him I wish you joy of your success, bat wish it had asS esat yost so assech. The loss of the Americans was trifling compared to that of the British, but Gen. Sum- tsr received a wound in the shoulder, that for several months interrupted his gallant career. He was placed, we are told, in a raw bullocks hide, suspended between two horses, and thus carried by a guard of his nien to the mountains. A few days after, Coruwallis wrote to Tarleton, I shall be very glad to hear that Sumter is in condition to give you no farther trouble; he certainly has been ear greatest plague in this cs,ssstry. On the 13th of January, 1781, the old Congress adopted a resolution of thanks to General Sum- ter for his eminent services. After the battles fought by Gen. Greene, and the departure of Coruwallis for Virginia, Gen. Sumter, who had just recovered fl-sm his wound, collected another force, and early in February, 1781, crossed the Congaree and de- stroyed the magazines at Fort Granby. On the advance of Lord Rawdon from Camden, Simm- tsr retreatedand immediately menaced anoth- er British post. Two days after, Its defeated an escort of the enemy, and captured the wagons and stores which they were conveying from Charleston to Camden. tie next, with 250 horesmen, swam across the Santee, and ad- vanced on Fort Watson, but retreated on the approach of Lord Rawdon to its relief. On his return to Black river he was attacked by Major Fraser with a very h rge force. Fraser lost twenty men and retreated. having thus cheered the spirits of the peop1e of the centre of the state, he retired to the borders of North-Caro- lina. In Maceli, 1781, he raised three regiments of regulars. his previous etiterprises had all 87 Literary Intelligence. heen execnted by militia, lie subsequently took part in the military movements in the lower country, until the close of the war, and co-operating with Marion, struck many success- ful blows at the British, and was distinguished in the several actions which were fouglat be- tween Orangeburgh and Charleston, After the peace, Ceo. Sumter was a distin- guished member of the State Convention, in which he voted with those who opposed the adoption of the Federal Constitution, on the ground that the states were not sufficiently shielded by it against federal osurpation. lie was afterwards selected one of tlse five mem- bers fin that state in the House of Represent- atives of the first Congress, under the Consti- tution, and continued to represent South-Caro- lina in the national councils until 1808. He took an active part with the other members from this stale, in denouncing a petition for the abo- lition of slavery, which was presented frosts the Quakers of Pennsylvania. For many years, in retirement amid his neighbors, and i limited circumstanc his fine spirit unbrokc. age of nearly a hundre cheerfolness amid fire weeks before his death, dle with the activity e faculties of the mino well as those of the ho y. and ronmantic LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. REC -NTLv PUBLYSSIEn. By J. & . J. Harper, New-YorkThe Life of Wiclif, by Charles Webb Le Bas, M. A. Profes- ~or in the East-India College, Herts, and late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, 1 vol. Embellished with a portrait of Wiclif, being No. 1 of the Theological Library. By Carey & Lea, PhiladelphiaA Practical Treatise on Rail-roads, and Interior Communi- cation in general. Containing an account of the performances of the different Locomotive Engines at and subsequent to the Liverpool Contest; upwards of two hundred and sixty experiments; with tables of the comparative value of Canals and Rail-roads, and the power of the present Locomotive Engines. Illustrated by flumerous En~ravings, by Nicholas Wood, Colliery Viewer, Member of the Institution of Civil Engineers, & c. First American, from tlse second English editioms, with corrections, notes, and additions ;also, an Appendix, containing a detailed account of a number of Rail-roads in Europe, and in the United States.The Al- liambra, by the Author of the Sketch Book, 1 vol. 12mo.Swallow Barn, or a Sojourn in th Old Dominion, 2 vets. lOmo. IN P ESs. J. & J. Harper, NewYork, h ye in press The Consistency of the Whole Scheme of Rev- elation with itself, and with Htnnan Reason, by P. N. Shuttleworth, D. D. Warden of New Col- lege, Oxfordhistory of the Inquisition, by Joseph Blanco White, M. A. of the University of OxfordHistory of the Principal Councils, by J. H. Newman, M. A. Fellow of Oriel Col- lege, Oxford.The Lives of the Continental Reformers, No. 1.Life of Martin Luther, by Hugh James Rose, B. D. Christi, mm Advocate mu the University of CambridgeTIme Later Days of the Jewish Polity; with a copious Listroduc:- tion and Notes (chiefly derived from the Talmud- ists and Rabbinnical Writers.) With a view to illustrate the Language, the Manners, and general Histo of the New Testament, by Thomas Mitchell, Esq. A. M.History of the Church in Ireland, by C. R. Elriugton, D. D. Regina Professor of Divinity, in the University of DublinThe Divimme (Jrigin of the Clmristian Revelation demonstrated in an analytical In- quiry into the Evidence on which the Belief of Christianity as been established, by William Rowe Lyall, M. A. Archdeacon of Colchester. History of the Reformned Religion in France, by Edmvard Smedley, M. A. late Fellow of Sidney Sussex College, Camnbridge.Illustrations of Eastern Manners, Scriptural Phraseology, & c. by Samuel Lee, Regius Professor of Hebrew ims the University of CarubridgeHisto of Sects, by F. E. Thompson, M. ASketch of the His- tory of Liturgies: comprising a particular Ac- count of the Liturgy of the Church of England, tiny Henry Johmm Rose, Fellow of St. Johns Col- lege, CambridgeHistory of the Church in Scotland. By Michael Russell, LL. D. author of the Coummexion of Sacred and Profane HistoryThe Life of Grotius, by James Nich- ohs, F. S. A. ammthor of Arminianism and Cal- vinism compared. Lilly & Wait, Boston, have in press, Letters upon Natmmral Histo ,. Geology, Chemistry, the Application of Steam, and the more imsteresting Discoveries in the Arts. Ily Timothy Fhirmt. Designed for the use of the higher classes in Sclsools; 1 vol. Svo. By Carey & Lea, Philadelphia Heidenmaner or Pagan Camp, by the Author stf the $py 2 vol. l2mo.

Literary Intelligence Literary Intelligence 88-88B

Literary Intelligence. heen execnted by militia, lie subsequently took part in the military movements in the lower country, until the close of the war, and co-operating with Marion, struck many success- ful blows at the British, and was distinguished in the several actions which were fouglat be- tween Orangeburgh and Charleston, After the peace, Ceo. Sumter was a distin- guished member of the State Convention, in which he voted with those who opposed the adoption of the Federal Constitution, on the ground that the states were not sufficiently shielded by it against federal osurpation. lie was afterwards selected one of tlse five mem- bers fin that state in the House of Represent- atives of the first Congress, under the Consti- tution, and continued to represent South-Caro- lina in the national councils until 1808. He took an active part with the other members from this stale, in denouncing a petition for the abo- lition of slavery, which was presented frosts the Quakers of Pennsylvania. For many years, in retirement amid his neighbors, and i limited circumstanc his fine spirit unbrokc. age of nearly a hundre cheerfolness amid fire weeks before his death, dle with the activity e faculties of the mino well as those of the ho y. and ronmantic LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. REC -NTLv PUBLYSSIEn. By J. & . J. Harper, New-YorkThe Life of Wiclif, by Charles Webb Le Bas, M. A. Profes- ~or in the East-India College, Herts, and late Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge, 1 vol. Embellished with a portrait of Wiclif, being No. 1 of the Theological Library. By Carey & Lea, PhiladelphiaA Practical Treatise on Rail-roads, and Interior Communi- cation in general. Containing an account of the performances of the different Locomotive Engines at and subsequent to the Liverpool Contest; upwards of two hundred and sixty experiments; with tables of the comparative value of Canals and Rail-roads, and the power of the present Locomotive Engines. Illustrated by flumerous En~ravings, by Nicholas Wood, Colliery Viewer, Member of the Institution of Civil Engineers, & c. First American, from tlse second English editioms, with corrections, notes, and additions ;also, an Appendix, containing a detailed account of a number of Rail-roads in Europe, and in the United States.The Al- liambra, by the Author of the Sketch Book, 1 vol. 12mo.Swallow Barn, or a Sojourn in th Old Dominion, 2 vets. lOmo. IN P ESs. J. & J. Harper, NewYork, h ye in press The Consistency of the Whole Scheme of Rev- elation with itself, and with Htnnan Reason, by P. N. Shuttleworth, D. D. Warden of New Col- lege, Oxfordhistory of the Inquisition, by Joseph Blanco White, M. A. of the University of OxfordHistory of the Principal Councils, by J. H. Newman, M. A. Fellow of Oriel Col- lege, Oxford.The Lives of the Continental Reformers, No. 1.Life of Martin Luther, by Hugh James Rose, B. D. Christi, mm Advocate mu the University of CambridgeTIme Later Days of the Jewish Polity; with a copious Listroduc:- tion and Notes (chiefly derived from the Talmud- ists and Rabbinnical Writers.) With a view to illustrate the Language, the Manners, and general Histo of the New Testament, by Thomas Mitchell, Esq. A. M.History of the Church in Ireland, by C. R. Elriugton, D. D. Regina Professor of Divinity, in the University of DublinThe Divimme (Jrigin of the Clmristian Revelation demonstrated in an analytical In- quiry into the Evidence on which the Belief of Christianity as been established, by William Rowe Lyall, M. A. Archdeacon of Colchester. History of the Reformned Religion in France, by Edmvard Smedley, M. A. late Fellow of Sidney Sussex College, Camnbridge.Illustrations of Eastern Manners, Scriptural Phraseology, & c. by Samuel Lee, Regius Professor of Hebrew ims the University of CarubridgeHisto of Sects, by F. E. Thompson, M. ASketch of the His- tory of Liturgies: comprising a particular Ac- count of the Liturgy of the Church of England, tiny Henry Johmm Rose, Fellow of St. Johns Col- lege, CambridgeHistory of the Church in Scotland. By Michael Russell, LL. D. author of the Coummexion of Sacred and Profane HistoryThe Life of Grotius, by James Nich- ohs, F. S. A. ammthor of Arminianism and Cal- vinism compared. Lilly & Wait, Boston, have in press, Letters upon Natmmral Histo ,. Geology, Chemistry, the Application of Steam, and the more imsteresting Discoveries in the Arts. Ily Timothy Fhirmt. Designed for the use of the higher classes in Sclsools; 1 vol. Svo. By Carey & Lea, Philadelphia Heidenmaner or Pagan Camp, by the Author stf the $py 2 vol. l2mo. For Ii e IUowEmejo-oft Mlagorinc. j7rV. Z,eruir(~o/r

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The New-England magazine. / Volume 3, Issue 2 New England magazine American monthly review American monthly magazine J. T. and E. Buckingham Boston Aug 1832 0003 002
Literary Portraits. No. IV. Charles Sprague Original Papers 89-95

THE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINE. AUGUST, 1832. ORIGINAL PAPERS. LITERARY PORTRAITS. NO. IV. CHARLES SPRAGUE. A BANK seems to be one of the last places in the world in which we should look for a poet; and, yet in one of the busiest institutions of that sort in the city, one may be found, surrounded by bustling clerks, flanked by huge piles of paperamong the active the most active discounting and signing notes, writing letters, hurrying to and fro, talking to half a dozen men at a timeall the while displaying an ardor of interest, and apparently putting his whole soul into his work, as much as if his thoughts had never strayed an inch from his desk. His common talk is of interest, discount, per centage, creditsounds grating to the ears of the muses, and which awaken no familiar echoes upon Parnassus. His appearance is gentlemanly and prepossessing he has a bright eye and an animated and intellectual countenance; hut you might talk with him for a long time and not suspect that he was any thing more than an uncommonly intelligent and sensible man; until something having touched the inner chords of his spirit and awakened their slumbering music, he would delight you with some poetical fancy or eloquent expression of feeling, and with such a light- ing up of eye, lip and cheek, as would show you at once that he was a gifted one. After this, we need hardly say that we are speaking of CHARLES SPRAGUEa true poet, and a gentleman, every inch of hima man of the highest character in every relation of life, and whom we are truly proud to have for a fellow-citizen. Mr. Sprague is alone sufficient to prove the falsehood of that absurd opinion, so venerable for its age, and supported by hlockheads of all times with a constancy that shows that they understand their own interests at least, that the imagination is an infirmity, unfitting its pos- sessor from engaging in any of the practical concerns of life; and that a slight infusion of dullness is necessary to a good business man. A man of genius is supposed to be visionary, enthusiastic, unpractical stumbling about the world with his head in the cloudspaying his VOL. III. 12 90 Literary Portraits. bills without adding them up or stopping to see whether they are receipted or notignorant of the value of money, and imperatively requiring the aid of some plodding trustee to keep him solvent. Poets have, in an especial manner, been visited with the ridicule or the pity, as each mans disposition prompted him, of the solid part of the community. The common notion is, that a little madness is an essential ingredient in his composition ; he is thought to move in a strangely eccentric orbit; in his words, actions, and opinions, he is supposed to obey laws and impulses peculiar to himselg and to be exempted, by the indulgence of mankind, from the responsibility which belongs to all others. If we be not so hard upon poetry, as, like one of the Fathers, to call it the Devils wine, we believe it to be an intoxicating draught, which often does the devil good service, if it do not come from him. Our readers will recollect the consternation of Owen, in the opening scene of Rob Roy, on learning that the son of his patron was given to the unprofitable and dangerous trade of verse- making; and those, who have had much knowledge of the compting- house and the exchange, will. acknowledge that the picture is not a caricature. We have heard of The clerk, condemned his fathers soul to cross, Who penned a stanza when he should engross ; and even in these days, there is many a good business-man, who would hear that his son had discovered a taste for poetry with much the same feeling, as if he had heard that he was addicted to drinking. Great must have been the consternation of all these good people when Mr. Sprague blazed out, all of a sudden, as a poet. Every man, who owned a dollar in the bank in which he was employed, must have been in a cold sweat at the thought of the risk he had run in suffering any of his property to pass through the hands of a man of genius, who) lost in poetic visions, might not, with the eye of his body, see the difference between tens and hundreds. But we never heard that Mr. Sprague grew careless or inaccurate or inattentive to his employment after the sin of poetry was fairly laid to his door. We know, indeed, that he is at present in a much more lucrative and responsible situation than he was when we first heard of him; and he should esteem it a piece of uncommon good luck, that he, wearing the livery of the Muses, is able to get employment in any other service than theirs. Among the first productions by which Mr. Sprague made himself known beyond the city of his birth as a poet, are two prize prologues; one at the opening 9f the Park theatre in New-York, in 1S5~1, and the other for the Philadelphia theatre, in 1S~252. Compositions of this kind are not to be judged of by the same rules which we apply to poetry in general. There are a certain number of common-places which must be brought in; and, as they are commonly limited in length, there is very little room left for original conceptions or the development of striking thoughts; so that we may observe a strong family likeness between them, whatever difference there may be in the genius of their respective authors. They should be criticized relatively and not ab- solutely; and, applying this rule to Mr. Spragues prologues, we can safely say that they deserve a place by the side of those of Lord Byron and Dr. Johnson. They have all that seems desirable in such occa- sional productionsstrength and harmony in the versification, natural Literary Portraits. 91 succession in the thoughts, and a kind of declamatory vigor and flow of language which never degenerates into extravagance or bombast. Occasionally, too, there is a morsel of genuine poetry, as in these beautiful lines which are in the address at the opening of the Phila- delphia theatre Poor maniac Beauty brings her cypress wreath, Her smile a moon-beam oer a blasted heath; Round some cold grave she comes, sweet flowers to strew, And, lost to reason, still to love is true. The Ode, which obtained the prize offered by the manager of the Boston theatre for the best Ode or other poetical Address to be re- cited at the exhibition of a pageant in honor of Shakspeare, is a poem of higher pretensions and much higher merit. Here, he had ample sea-room, and could shape his course as he pleased. The greatness of Shakspeares mind, and the boundless variety of his characters,, fur- nished him with a most inspiring theme, while his invention was further aided by the flexibility of the lyric stanza and the license allowed to that kind of measure. rrhe result was a noble poem, des- tined to live long after the occasion that called it forth is forgotten, and of which it is no flattery to say, that it is worthy of its subject. This Ode has always been a great favorite with us; we regard it as that one of all his works which does the most honor to his genius mind, we sa,y his genius. We do not mean to say that it is the most finished of his productions, or that if they were all thrown into the fire, this is the first one we should take out; but it seems to us to abound most in that power of creating, which distinguishes the artist from the copier. It is crowded with fine images, rich expressions and epithets, which are in themselves poems. There is a thrilling rapidity in the flow of the thoughts; but nothing of turbulence or foam; every thing is as clear and transparent as the waters of an unruffled fountain. He has carried to its extreme the animation and variety of the lyric measure; but has always kept within the bounds prescribed by good taste and a correct ear. Its only defects are an occasional extrava- gance in his images, and a little too much gorgeousness and brilliancy in the expressions, for both of which a satisfactory defence might be offered, that the poem was written to be recited. As it is some time since it was written, we do not think our readers will object to seeing a few of the stanzas, which, in our opinion, have as much of the fire of true poetry as any thing which has been done on this side of the water. Madness, with his frightful scream, Vengeance, leaning on his lance, Avarice, with his blade and beam, Hatred, blasting with a glance, Remorse, that weeps, and Rage, that roars, And Jealousy, that dotes but dooms, and murders yet adores. Mirth, his face with sunbeams lit, Waking Laughters merry swell, Arm in arm with fresh-eyed Wit, That waves his tingling lash, while Folly shakes his bell. From the feudal tower pale Terror rushing, Where the prophet birds wail Dies along the dull gale, And the sleeping monarchs blood is gushing 92 Literary Portraits. Despair, that haunts the gurgling stream, Kissed by the virgin moons cold beam, Where some lost maid wild chaplets wreathes, And, swan-like, there her own dirge breathes, Then, broken-hearted, sinks to rest, Beneath the bubbling wave, that shrouds her maniac breast. Young Love, with eye of tender gloom, Now drooping oer the hallowed tomb, Where his plighted victims lie, Where they met, but met to die And now, when crimson buds are sleeping, Through the dewy arbor peeping, Where beautys child, the frowning world forgot, To youths devoted tale is listening, Rapture on her dark lash glistening, While fairies leave their cowslip cells and guard the happy spot. The most finished of Mr. Spragues productions, and that on which his fame will principally rest, is a poem on Curiosity, delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge. It is one of those rare works, in which the execution is equal to the conception; and the combination of genius, taste and judgement, displayed in it, will secure it a place in the literature of the language, long after many of the dazzling wonders, which, now and then, blaze upon us like a comet, have passed away and are forgotten. Its versification is, with a few exceptions, faultless, and yet free from the cloying monotony which is the easily besetting sin~~ of the heroic measure. The thou~hts are original and striking, but never extravagantthe subject is introduced and developed with great skill; and the style is so beauti- ful, that the Graces seem to have presided at the birth of each line. Its principal merit consists, however, in its unrivalled delineations of men and manners. It is a camera-obscura view of lifes motley stage a gallery of portraits, drawn from the life, with a pencil so firm, vigorous and easy, that they seem to breathe and stand out from the canvas. They remind us of one of those fine line engravings, which preserve not only the general expression, but give you the most minute characteristic ,every wrinkle in the face, and every thread in the gar- ments. They have the strength, fidelity and liveliness of Popes Moral Sketches, without any of his bitterness and asperity. Indeed, there is a geniality, a heartiness, a sympathy with humanity, a tenderness, a sensibility, running through the poem, which give it much of its fasci- nation. Though master of every weapon of satire, from the ponder- ous flail of Juvenal to the lithe rapier of Horace, he never inflicts a wound from the mere pleasure of wounding. If he has occasion to satirize vice in any of its forms, he does it with thorough good will. He gives no love-taps; he is quite in earnest even unto slaying ; but, in his rebuke of the vanities and follies of men, there is a good- natured smile struggling through his frown, showing his sympathy for the offender as well as his contempt of the offence. This poem is doubtless familiar to all our readers, and we need not make any extracts in confirmation of what we have said. How beautiful is his description of the child with the new-born desire after knowledge fluttering in his breast! How admirable his picture of the miser, who makes his folks eat beans, and who holds it heresy to thinkof the maiden reading a romance when honest folks are asleepof the traveler who Literary Portraits. 93 turns, half-unwilling, from his home, to roam in foreign lands! How exquisite, too, is the description of the wanderers funeral at sea! how full of the simplicity of true feelingwith what skill every circum- stance is selectedthe assembled crew, the setting sun, the unruffled sea! Cold, indeed, must be the heart of him who could read it with- out emotion, and no one could have written it who had not gone down to the depths of the human soul and gathered the treasures that lie buried there. But it is idle to speak of single paragraphs or detached portions; the poem should he read as a whole, for it is distinguished for its symmetry, its completeness, its oneness. It will hear perusing again and again, and each time some new beauty will be discovered. There are many single expressions which are full of the salt of wit and the flavor of originality; such as An incarnation of fat dividends. * * * * * * Where sin holds carnival and wit keeps lent. * * * * * * -With a quill so noisy and so vain, We almost hear the goose it clothed complain. * * * * * * Their be-all and their end-all here below, & c. The poem clos~s with a strain of lofty poetry and unaffected feeling; but we do not like exactly the way in which Mr. Sprague speaks of himself, To lifes coarse service sold, Where thought lies barren, and nought breeds bat gold. He knew, or ought to have known, that he had received in Natures good old College a diploma, that entitled him to hold up his head in the presence of any man that ever wore an academic laurel. Univer- sities neither boast nor claim a monopoly in genius or even in learning. Many a dunce wanders into learned bowers that has just sense enough never to come out of them again. Mr. Sprague should observe what one of the greatest of his brethren calls stern self-respect. His is the noblest of arts, and he is no unworthy professor. There is no higher, holier ground, than that upon which a Poet stands, whose heart is pure and whose thoughts fly heavenward. To the Ode delivered at the Centennial Celebration of the settle- ment of the city, we are not disposed to assign the same relative rank among his works as seems to have been given it by popular opinion. Not that it is not beautiful and every way worthy of the occasion; but there does not seem to be the stamp of individuality upon it. It is tasteful and scholar-like, rather than original or profound. He was en- compassed with peculiar difficulties. He was obliged to address a large and miscellaneous audience, which had already listened to a long oration ; and, however great the ability of the orator, there could not but be a slight feeling of fatigue at the close. He was forced to make a popular poemto have something in every paragraph which would tell. His subject, too, was prescribed for him, and, however interesting, it was not new. When we consider all these things, his success was very remarkable. Its proper criterion is the manner in which it was received by the audience, which was, as all will recollect, with the utmost enthusiasm. Its versification is easy, graceful, and various; every thing about it is remarkable for good taste; and a high 94 Literary Portraits. tone of moral and religious feeling runs through it, which elevates and warms. The best part of it is that in which he laments the fate of the Indians, and eulogizes (a little too extravagantly, we fear, for sober history) their character. It is highly poetical, and, though full of feelitig, is free from that mawkish sentimentality with which every thing about the poor red man is usually garnished. Mr. Sprague is the author of some lines on Art, written for a public festival of the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association; also of an Address to a Cigar, and ofsome Lines to two Swallows, which flew into a church window during divine service. They are, all of them, perfect gemsgraceful and finished, and the first one, in par- ticular, is highly poetical. We regret that he has not written more compositions of this length and character, his success has been so com- plete in what he has done. Where shall we find any thing more beautiful than these lines from his little poem on the Swallows? Gay, guiltless pair, What seek ye from the fields of heaven? Ye have no need of prayer, Ye have no sins to be forgiven. Why perch ye here When mortals to their Maker bend? Can your pure spirits fear The God ye never could offend? Ye never knew The crimes for which we come to weep; Penance is not for you, Blest wanderers of the upper deep. The distinguishing characteristics of all Mr. Spragues poetry are correctness, good taste, purity of feeling, and great skill and precision in the use of language. He has formed himself upon the models of an earlier age, and has learned from them how to dress his thoughts in a becoming garb and the importance of a finished style, musical num- bers, simple and expressive language, and the propriety of saying nothing which has not a meaning to it; while, at the same time, he has the merits which distinguish the literature of the present ageits fresh- ness, its originality, its philosophic spirit, its more thorough analysis of human nature and its profounder knowledge of the human heart. There is a great manliness about his poetrya scorn of all affectation and trickery, a straight forward simplicity, which disdains wildness of thought or prettinesses of expression. There are none of those dark, elliptical passages, which so puzzle an honest mans brains to find out what the author is driving atno wandering out of his plain course to drag in a simile or an allusionno panting and straining after an ele- vation he was never meant to reach. There is a pleasant spirit of repose hovering over his poetrya mild and thoughtful beauty, like that of the hues of twilight. He knows his strength, and always suc- ceeds, because he attempts no more than he is sure he can accom- plish. In forming our estimate of his literary character, we should not for- get his prose writings. He is the author of a Fourth-of-July Oration, and of an Address delivered before the Massachusetts Society for the Suppression of Intemperance. To these we cannot give the same The Benjamin Franklin. 95 unqualified praise that we do to his poems. Though we cannot corn plain of the latter that they are too prosaic; we can of the former that they are too poetical. The style is rich, gorgeous and declam- atoryoften to a fault; but there is power and originality in the thoughts, and here and there a flue burst of eloquence. They are ad- mirably calculated to please a popular audience in the delivery, if they will not hear the test of a cold perusal in the closetand who is there that can accomplish both these objects? Our readers may, perhaps, think that an exhortation to write more comes in as naturally at the close of our notices of a poet, and is as much a matter of course, as is, in the beginning of the Arabian tales, Dinarzades saying to Scheherazade, My dear sister, if you are not tired, please to finish that charming story you began to tell us last night. Wellwe must plead guilty to the charge, and bear the laugh. We think that there is plenty of room in the worid for good poetry, and we know that Mr. Sprague would write none that did not deserve that epithet. He is a business man, and has a family to take care of; and we cannot expect him to give up his time to the composi- tion of such elaborate productions as Curiosity ; but lie certainly can spare us, now and then, a graceful and elegant trifle, writtenas we have done this imperfect criticismin the hours between the labors of the day and the repose of the night. If he is at any loss for a proper vehicle by which to communicate them to the public, he will re- ceive information by applying to the Editors of the New-England Magazine. THE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. IT is no discredit to the memory of the philosopher of the lightning- rod, to bestow his name on a goodly Steam-Boat. Little did he think as much as he thought what mechanics could dothat, in little more than half a century from the time in which it took him some weeks to get to Philadelphia from Boston, his descendants might pass the whole distance except sixty miles, by steam, at the rate of eighteen miles an hour. Such a prediction at that time would have been wild, as such traveling could have seemed only like the flight of a bird. We may now sleep away the night in a good berth, wake to an early breakfast in New-York, and dine at Philadelphia; and so much are the travelers comforts attended to by those who transport him at this marvelous rate, that he is discharged at Chesnut-street wharfwell fed,so that, he cannot be seen, like the great printer, diligently eating one loaf while he holds under his arm another. The great economy of time in modern traveling allows us to be a little more sumptuous than our ancestors in the way of food. A steam-boat is a flying island, in which all the ope- rations of life, except ploughing, are carried on. The man has no im agination, no soul, who feels imprisoned in a steam-boat, only because he is confined by the rails. It is true that he cannot walk more than a quarter of a mile without turning; but he is changing his place on the surface of the earth with the speed of a comet. The trees are dancing in mazes before him, along the country, and apparently

The Benjamin Franklin Original Papers 95-97

The Benjamin Franklin. 95 unqualified praise that we do to his poems. Though we cannot corn plain of the latter that they are too prosaic; we can of the former that they are too poetical. The style is rich, gorgeous and declam- atoryoften to a fault; but there is power and originality in the thoughts, and here and there a flue burst of eloquence. They are ad- mirably calculated to please a popular audience in the delivery, if they will not hear the test of a cold perusal in the closetand who is there that can accomplish both these objects? Our readers may, perhaps, think that an exhortation to write more comes in as naturally at the close of our notices of a poet, and is as much a matter of course, as is, in the beginning of the Arabian tales, Dinarzades saying to Scheherazade, My dear sister, if you are not tired, please to finish that charming story you began to tell us last night. Wellwe must plead guilty to the charge, and bear the laugh. We think that there is plenty of room in the worid for good poetry, and we know that Mr. Sprague would write none that did not deserve that epithet. He is a business man, and has a family to take care of; and we cannot expect him to give up his time to the composi- tion of such elaborate productions as Curiosity ; but lie certainly can spare us, now and then, a graceful and elegant trifle, writtenas we have done this imperfect criticismin the hours between the labors of the day and the repose of the night. If he is at any loss for a proper vehicle by which to communicate them to the public, he will re- ceive information by applying to the Editors of the New-England Magazine. THE BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. IT is no discredit to the memory of the philosopher of the lightning- rod, to bestow his name on a goodly Steam-Boat. Little did he think as much as he thought what mechanics could dothat, in little more than half a century from the time in which it took him some weeks to get to Philadelphia from Boston, his descendants might pass the whole distance except sixty miles, by steam, at the rate of eighteen miles an hour. Such a prediction at that time would have been wild, as such traveling could have seemed only like the flight of a bird. We may now sleep away the night in a good berth, wake to an early breakfast in New-York, and dine at Philadelphia; and so much are the travelers comforts attended to by those who transport him at this marvelous rate, that he is discharged at Chesnut-street wharfwell fed,so that, he cannot be seen, like the great printer, diligently eating one loaf while he holds under his arm another. The great economy of time in modern traveling allows us to be a little more sumptuous than our ancestors in the way of food. A steam-boat is a flying island, in which all the ope- rations of life, except ploughing, are carried on. The man has no im agination, no soul, who feels imprisoned in a steam-boat, only because he is confined by the rails. It is true that he cannot walk more than a quarter of a mile without turning; but he is changing his place on the surface of the earth with the speed of a comet. The trees are dancing in mazes before him, along the country, and apparently 96 The Benjamin Franklin.. changing place, like the persons in a dance. If the boat is going in the direction of the wind, it may sometimes enjoy for hours the shadow of a passing cloud. I am not an old stager; but I have experience enough to advise my friends to secure a good berth as soon as they enter the boat. It is better to be at a distance from the machinery, both for quiet and safety. When a traveler has secured a good berth, nothing can hap- pen amiss. He is in a hotel, and may take his ease at his inn, without having his pockets rifled, or his temper moved. Having left Newport, he will be summoned, by the sound of a bell, to a supper such as Cleopatra never offered to Anthony. He looks down a long and pillared hall upon two lines of smiling faces, and his own hard features begin to soften. Your steam-boat is a great promoter of hun- ger; but then it carries supplies beyond the remotest possibility of famine. The Americans are economical of time, if not sparing of food. They will eat a huge supper in a brief time. In fifteen minutes after the summons to the feast, none are to be seen at table, but the few who came late, or whose teeth have suffered from long and hard ser- vice. In half an hour the table is cleared, and the seats removed: the hall stands a vacant monument of celerity in consuming the fruits of the earth. On deck, may be seen little groups discussing the con- stant and standing topic of all republicans, the merits of the President, and the person of his successor. Some few, of more poetic tempera- ment sit apart retired, watching in the wake of the ship the shower of sparks, that, after describing a long parabola in the air, fall as thickly as a shower of hail upon the waters. This is a beautiful sight; it is like innumerable legions of lightning~bugs, extinguishing forever their glittering wings upon the waters. Other passengers, in a vein of melancholy, lean over the bows, watching the curl of the waters projected for yards before the boat, from the resistance offered by the fluid to the huge mass that drives through it at the rate of a quarter of a mile in a minute. Others of the travelers are smoking a quiet if not a genteel cigar. But alas! sentiments and cigars have their ap- pointed termination. And mortal pleasure, what art thou? In truth, The torrents smoothness ere it dash below. Soon the most animated political discussions are hushed; Jackson is left to his laurels, and Clay to his spindles; tariff and free trade can no longer raise a voice in their own defence; the foam at the bows is un- heeded, and the falling flakes that illuminate the wake, fall without admirers; every one that was in motion assumes a state of rest; every one that was animated becomes grave, while the grave become solemn. Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer cloud ? Beauty grows pale and totters to a seat, while Audacity lays hand upon heart, with the meek expression of a lamb. The whole congre- gation becomes a picture of wretchedness; each one looks like a con- victed felon brought up to receive the last sentence of the law. Such is the mysterious operation of Point Judith, and of the chopping seas, that the voyager must pass over before he gains the shelter of the Long-Island shore. 97 THE NERVOUS MAN. MESSRS. EDITORS: The enclosed MSS. are the literary remains of an esteemed friend of mine, who a short time since kneaded himself to death for the Dyspepsia, agreeably to the prescriptions of Dr. Halsted. My friend made no pretensions to genius. He was a hard student, hot the world has been littlo wiser for it. His literary appetite, like his physical, exceeded his digestion. He always seemed to me, like a volume of miscellany, without an indexor racher like a dictionary, to he looked into on occasions, hot withont any connexion. The following sketches I have extracted from his Diary,a very wilderness of unintelligible chirography. I think there is some merit in them. There is, at least, originality. I. G. W. AT HOMEAN APRIL DAY. RAINrain !no, not precisely rain,but worse, infinitely worse~ an April day of mist and shadow,such as Ossians ghosts might revel in,mud and water below, cloud-rack and moisture above Faugh !Coleridge says that the mind gives nature its gloom and its beautyits light and sombre coloring. No such thing. Nature colors the mind. I feel at this moment her shadows closing around me. I am out of humor with her. It seems to me as if she has assumed her most dreary and uncomfortable aspect for my own espe- cial annoyance. I can have some patience with a thunder-storm. There is something of grandeur about it,the slow, uprolling clouds the lightning flashing out of their thick blackness, like the eye-glance of an angry spiritthe solemn roll of the far-off thunderor the simultaneous flash and uproar, as some hill-crag or tree-top trembles with its fiery chastisement. A sweeping Northeaster is a disagreeable visitant; but within doors you can easily reconcile yourself to it; and there 15 somewhat of amusement in the gusty clashing of the rain the flooding of the streetsthe swaying of the tree-topsthe rending of umbrellas, and the forlorn appearance of the cloak-wrapped pedes- trians. But a dull, heavy, clinging mista day of cloud and shadow, when Nature seems puzzled whether to rain or shine upon usis the peculiar season when the azure demons of my temperament hold high carnival. If I ever commit suicide, commend me to such a day. Is that my facehirsute, sallow, ghastly !peering out upon me, like ugliness personified, from that long, old-fashioned mirror ?I will have that perpetual memento mon turned to the v.a11. I dislike reflec- tions of any kind. I enter my solemn protest against looking-glasses in modern days, as Pliny and Seneca did of old. One of the Roman EmperorsDomitian, I believe,lined his galleries and walks with polished selenite, that he might see all that was going on around him. The man was a fool. For my own part, I could abide the daily risque of assassination, with far more composure, than the constant vision of my unlucky figure. In the latter case, I should imagine myself haunted by an ogre. I hate your professed Physiognomistthe man who reads at a glance the character of his neighbordecyphering with ease the mys- tic meaning of the human featuresthose hieroglyphics of the Al- mighty. I abhor the idea of a mans carrying his autobiography in his visagethe melancholy history of a love adventure in the droop of an eye-lid, or the prominence of a cheek-bone,or a tale of disappoint- ment in the wrinkles of his forehead. I condemn in toto the systems of Lavater, Gall, and Spurzheim. T is an unmanly method of com voL. ItT. 13

The Nervous Man Original Papers 97-104

97 THE NERVOUS MAN. MESSRS. EDITORS: The enclosed MSS. are the literary remains of an esteemed friend of mine, who a short time since kneaded himself to death for the Dyspepsia, agreeably to the prescriptions of Dr. Halsted. My friend made no pretensions to genius. He was a hard student, hot the world has been littlo wiser for it. His literary appetite, like his physical, exceeded his digestion. He always seemed to me, like a volume of miscellany, without an indexor racher like a dictionary, to he looked into on occasions, hot withont any connexion. The following sketches I have extracted from his Diary,a very wilderness of unintelligible chirography. I think there is some merit in them. There is, at least, originality. I. G. W. AT HOMEAN APRIL DAY. RAINrain !no, not precisely rain,but worse, infinitely worse~ an April day of mist and shadow,such as Ossians ghosts might revel in,mud and water below, cloud-rack and moisture above Faugh !Coleridge says that the mind gives nature its gloom and its beautyits light and sombre coloring. No such thing. Nature colors the mind. I feel at this moment her shadows closing around me. I am out of humor with her. It seems to me as if she has assumed her most dreary and uncomfortable aspect for my own espe- cial annoyance. I can have some patience with a thunder-storm. There is something of grandeur about it,the slow, uprolling clouds the lightning flashing out of their thick blackness, like the eye-glance of an angry spiritthe solemn roll of the far-off thunderor the simultaneous flash and uproar, as some hill-crag or tree-top trembles with its fiery chastisement. A sweeping Northeaster is a disagreeable visitant; but within doors you can easily reconcile yourself to it; and there 15 somewhat of amusement in the gusty clashing of the rain the flooding of the streetsthe swaying of the tree-topsthe rending of umbrellas, and the forlorn appearance of the cloak-wrapped pedes- trians. But a dull, heavy, clinging mista day of cloud and shadow, when Nature seems puzzled whether to rain or shine upon usis the peculiar season when the azure demons of my temperament hold high carnival. If I ever commit suicide, commend me to such a day. Is that my facehirsute, sallow, ghastly !peering out upon me, like ugliness personified, from that long, old-fashioned mirror ?I will have that perpetual memento mon turned to the v.a11. I dislike reflec- tions of any kind. I enter my solemn protest against looking-glasses in modern days, as Pliny and Seneca did of old. One of the Roman EmperorsDomitian, I believe,lined his galleries and walks with polished selenite, that he might see all that was going on around him. The man was a fool. For my own part, I could abide the daily risque of assassination, with far more composure, than the constant vision of my unlucky figure. In the latter case, I should imagine myself haunted by an ogre. I hate your professed Physiognomistthe man who reads at a glance the character of his neighbordecyphering with ease the mys- tic meaning of the human featuresthose hieroglyphics of the Al- mighty. I abhor the idea of a mans carrying his autobiography in his visagethe melancholy history of a love adventure in the droop of an eye-lid, or the prominence of a cheek-bone,or a tale of disappoint- ment in the wrinkles of his forehead. I condemn in toto the systems of Lavater, Gall, and Spurzheim. T is an unmanly method of com voL. ItT. 13 93 The Nervovs Man. ing at ones private history. The beautiful and lordlythose who carry an eternal letter of recommendation in their countenances may, perhaps, demur to my opinions. Let them. Phrenology may have been a blessing to them; it has been the devil and all to me. As Balak said of old unto Balaam,so say I unto all, who, like myself have been martyrs to the sciences of bumps, organs, and facial anglesPhysiognomy and Phrenology Come, help me to curse them. Nay, smile not at my vehemence, fair reader; thou least of all canst appreciate my feelings. As thou bendest over my page, with thine eye shedding a finer light across it than ever brightened the illuminated scroll of a monkish legendwith thy dark tresses ever and anon lightly sweeping its margin, and half shadowing the delicate fingers which enclose itthe veriest mocker at humanity would bless thee, and the austere St. Francis, at the first glimpse of thee, would have forsaken his bride of snow. But I, marked and set apart from my fellows, the personification of ugliness, in whose countenance every modern Lavater discovers all that is vile and disagreeable and odious; shunned by the lovelier and gentler sex, and suspected and laughed at by my own ; in the name of all that is sensitive, why should I not murmur at the practice of an art which has undone me, at the illustration of a science which has shut the door of human sympathy upon me! Is it a light thing that I have suffered a daily martyrdom through life; that my very parents loved me not, although my young heart was bursting with love for them; that my brothers mocked me, and my sisters feared me; that, in my riper years, the one fair being to whom I poured out the riches of a hoarded affection, the whole of that love which had been turned back and repelled by all othersthat she, who did love me, who saw through its miserable veil of humanity, the warm and generous and lofty spirit within meeven she should have been torn from me by those who knew me not, save by that most unfortunate criterion of merit, my outward appearance? Is it nothing that I am now a lonely and disappointed man, stricken into the sere and yellow leag before my time, with the frost of misery if not of years predominating over the dark locks of my boy- hood? Is it nothing that I am now a solitary wanderer in the thorough- fare of being; my sympathies fettered down in my own bosom, my affections unshared, unreciprocated, and wandering like the winged messenger of the Patriarch of the deluge over the broad waste of an unsocial humanity; and, finding no rest, no place of refuge, no beau- tiful island in the eternal solitude, no green-branched forest looking above the desolation, where the weary wing may be folded, and the fainting heart have rest? Basta !I have been penning nonsense, sheer inexcusable non- sense; and yet, it has brought moisture to my eye, and a tremor to my heart. Ifaith! I should like to see a tear of mine. It is a long, a very long time since I saw one. lanhood in. its desolation has no tears. Woman-kind, says King James, the old Scotch pedant, especially bee able to shede teares at everie light occasion, when they willyea, although it were dissemblingly, like the crocodiles. And Reginald Scott affirmeth, there bee two kindes of teares in womans eie; one of true greefe, the other of deceipt. Well, it is a happy faculty, this tear-shedding, after all. It is womans last and most powerful appeal. The Nereous Alan 99 There are few hearts capable of resisting it. It excites pity, and pity, by gradations almost insensible, melts into love. I have often admired the truth of a remark in Godwins Cloudesly. Beauty in tears is the adversary which has thrown down its weapons, and no longer defies us. It is the weak and tender flower, illustrious in its lowliness, which asks for a friendly hand to raise its drooping head. Rain, raindrip, drip! fog wrapping the hills like a winding-sheet. And here am I, sitting by my dim and whitening coal-fire, a wretched misanthropea combination of the ferocity of Timon and the spleen of Rochefoucauld. Solitary, companionless Alone, alone! All, all alone No beautiful creature of smiles and gentle tones to cheer my failing spirits, and melt away the sternness f care with the warm kiss of her affection. But wherefore these murmurs? Matrimony, after all, is but a doubtful experiment. What saith my Lord Bacon? He that hath wife and children bath given hostages to fortune; for they are impedi~ ments to great enterprizes, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit to the public, have proceeded from unmarried and childless men. And Count Swedenborg, for whom I have a great veneration, thinks that woman is to man like the lost rib to Adam, not essential to his happiness, but necessary to complete his fortune. In truth, I can readily conceive of a wor ~ situation than my own. I might have married,I shudder to think of it,a scold, a termagant, a Xantippe, (and now I remember she did have a won- derful faculty of sharpening her fine voice.) Our old law Latin most ungallantly confines the common scold, communis vizatix, to the femi- nine gender; and the Furies were all represented as females. For one, I value a fine and pleasant voice as the most perfect charm of wo sen. I would have it soft low and faintly musical, like the stray- ing of the south wind over harp-stringsan articulate breathing, mel- lowed and rich with the earnestness of soul, soothing and gentle as the whisper of an angel. The ancients represented Venus by the side of Mercury, to signify that the chief pleasures of matrimony were in con- versation. I have ever admired these lines of old Ausonius: Vane quid affectas faciem mihi pingere pictor? Si mihi similem pingere, pinge sonum. And it is thus I would have my lodge love delineated, not upon perishin, canvass, hut on the retina of the soul; The voiceless spirit of a lovely sound. But, the common scoldthe razor-like voice of petulance and anger, piercing through one like a Toledo scimetar, the curtain lecture, the domestic brawl, the harsh tones of taunting and menace, the saw-mill modulation of vulgarityHeaven defend me from them! With the honest weaver of Auchinloch, I hae muckle reason to be thankful that I am, as I am. Rubius Celer, indeed, commanded the fact to be engraven on his tomb-stone, that he had lived with his wife Caja Ennia forty-three years and eight months, without any do- mestic quarrel. But his is a solitary case. I am half inclined to believe that the immaculate Caja Ennia was dumW 100 The Nervous ]JIan. I know of nothing which has given me more consolation in my bachelorship, than the song of Vidal, in one of Scotts Romances: Womans faith, and womans trust Write the characters in dust, Print them on the running stream, Stamp them on the cold moon-beam, And each evanescent letter Shall be fairer, firmer, better, And more durable, I ween, Than the thing those letters mean. It is unquestionably a propensity of the human heart, to seek to depreciate that, which it has in vain sought after; and it may be owing to this, that I take such malicious satisfaction in contemplating the character of our mother Eve. She loved Adam awhile in Paradise, it is true; but the very first devil she saw, she changed her love. * * * * * POETRYREMINISCENCELORD ]3YRON. World! stop thy mouthI am resolved to rhyme ! So sung Peter Pindarbut so sing not I. Time has dealt hardly with my boyhoods muse. Poetry has been to me a beautiful delusion. It was something woven of my young fancies, and reality has de~ stroyed it. I can, indeed, make rhymes now, as mechanically as a mason piles one brick above another; but the glow of feeling, the hope, the ardor, the excitement have passed away forever. I have long thought, or rather the world hath made me think, that poetry is too trifling, too insignificant a pursuit for the matured intellect of sober manhood. I have half acquiesced in the opinion of Plato, who banished poets from his ideal republic. I could have assisted Gregory the Great in his celebrated Auto da fe of the old Latin authors. Adam Ferguson, in his Essays on Civil Society, argues conclusively, that man, in his savage and heathen state, is by nature a poet; and it was probably the kno~vledge of this fact, which induced the early Christians of Greece, according to Petrus Bellonius, a voracious Basil Hall of antiquity, to esteem it not lawful for a Christian to study poetry. I have been looking over a confused map of my old manuscripts like Ovids Chaos, A huge and undigested heap. Each particular scrap has something pleasant or mournful associated with its history. There is one written by a friend who has long since shuffled off his mortal coil. Poor fellow! the clods of the valley are sweet to him, for he was, in truth, one of those who rejoice exceedingly, and are glad when they can find the grave. I think I can see him now, pale, spiritually pale, with his large blue eyes, and his most melancholy smile. He died early; but I could not mourn for him, for his spirit longed for rest, as the servant earnestly desireth the shadow. To him might have been applied the mournful language of the son of Sirach : Oh Death, acceptable is thy sentence unto the needy, unto him whose strength faileth, who is vexed with all things, and to him ~vho despaireth, and hath lost all patience. The The Nervous Man. 101 following stanzas were written shortly after an afflicting bereavement. I regard them not for their intrinsic merit, but as the production of one whom I have loved. Fare thee well! if this be only As a lightly-spoken word, Wherefore should this heart be lonely As a mate-forsaken bird? If its meaning be not deeper Than its simple sound would seem, Wherefore should it haunt the sleeper, Like a murmur in his dream? Lowly was the cold word spoken, With a pale and trembling lip, When the chance of earth had broken On our early fellowship. Pale the stars were bending oer us Emblems of thy rarer charms, And the streamlet ran before us With the moonlight in its arms! With the brilliant tear-drop starting From thy fringing eye-lid forth, Like a summoned angel parting With a weary son of earth, Still in slumber I behold thee, Even as we parted there But the arms that would enfold thee Clasp the cold and vacant air! Quiet is thy place of sleeping, In a brighter clime than ours, Where the island-palm is keeping Watch above thy funeral flowers: And the tall Magnolia lingers Near thee, with its snowy blossom, That the breeze, like loves own fingers, Scatters oer thy sleeping bosom. Fare thee well my heart is near thee, And its love is still as deep, While the soul can see and hear thee, In the dreamy hour of sleep: Dear one !be thy blessing oer me, And thy sinless spirit given, As an angel-guide before me, Leading upward unto Heaven! Well might my poor friend lament thus passionately the loss of the fairest and best of earths daughters! Years have passed since I saw her for the last time, on the eve of her departure for Cubaher na- tive island. Sickness had begun its work on her delicate frame; but the spiritual loveliness of her countenance I shall never forget. Her eye would have answered to the inimitable description of Sterne : It was an eye full of gentle salutations and soft responsesspeaking not like the trumpet-stop of an ill-made organ, in which many an eye I talk to, holds coarse conversebut whispering soft, like the last, low accents of an expiring saint. I have the copy of some lines written on the eve of her departure, by her poetical lover. I know not how 102 The Nervous Alan. they may seem to othersto me they are commended by the earnest- ness of affection which they manifest. Clara! this hand is thrilling yet, With the last pressure of thine own. Oh! could my aching heart forget The sadness of thy parting tone, Could but the pale lip pass away The thin cheek lose its hectic stain, And, bright and beautiful and gay, Thy treasured image smile again Upon me, as it once hath smiled, Could once again thine aspect find The healthful beauty of a child, Blest with the holier charm of mind, I would not ask a dream of bliss More holy, pure, and deep, than this! Yet goI would not keep thee here, When sickness dims thine eyes pure heaven, Goseek thy natal atmosphere, Where steals the breath of morn and even, Like soft and healing balm, along The sunny waves and orange bowers, Rich with the silver voice of song, And fragrant with the kiss of flowers! Goand beneath that warm bright sky, May healing spirits hover oer thee, Until, beneath thy kindling eye, The world again is bright before thee; And cheek and lip again possess Their more than mortal loveliness! Goand I need not ask of thee A thoughta prayera silent blessing, Nor that our plighted love may be The holiest gift of thy possessing: I know too well thy gentle heart To wrong thee by one selfish fear, And, freely as I weep to part, No doubt hath summoned up a tear. Gods blessing on thee If the prayer Of a fond heart availeth much, HE, whose pervading love can spare The loveliest flower from ruins touch, Will spare thee in thy native bower, As beings best and loveliest flower! I have been reading Byron to dayfollowing him through the clas- sic ground of Europe, and blending myself in sympathy with his heroes,bending with Conrad over the dim waste of waters,leaning with Lara gloomily against the pillars of the banquet-roomdark and alone, amidst light and love and music,scowling with the Giaour in the dim aisle of the convent, With gloom beheldwith gloom beholding The rites which sanctify the pile. I have gazed with Alp, while the cloud of his destiny swept darkly between him and heaven,or looked with Manfred from the difficult air of the iced mountain-topdown where the mist boiled upward from the valleys white and sulphurous, Like foam from the roused ocean of deep hell, Heaped with the damned like pebbles. The Nervous Man. 103 Byron is no more, nobly he perished in the classic land of his adoption, where The mountains look on Marathon And Marathon looks on the sea. He sleeps well, after lifes fitful fever ; and God forbid that any one should wantonly attack his memory. I admireI almost worship the sublimity of his genius. I would not, if it were in the power of man to do so, detract one tittle from the full measure of his great fame. But I have fearedand still fearthe consequencesthe natural and unavoidable consequences of his writings. I fear that, in our enthusi- astic admiration of genius, our idolatry of poetry, the allurements to vice and loathsome depravity, the awful impiety, and the staggering unbelief contained in those writings, are lightly passed over, and ac- quiesced in, as the allowable observations of a master intellect, which had lifted itself above the ordinary world, which had broken down the barriers of ordinary mind, and which revelled in a creation of its own; a world, over which the sunshine of imngination lightened, at times, with an almost ineffable glory, to be succeeded by the thick blackness of doubt and terror and misanthropy, relieved only by the lightening flashes of terrible and unholy passion. The blessing of that mighty intellectthe prodigal gift of Heaven became, in his possession, a burthen and a curse. He was wretched in his gloomy unbelief, and he strove, with that selfish purpose which too often actuates the miserable, to drag his fellow-beings from their only abiding hopeto break down in the human bosom the beautiful altar of its faith, and to fix in other bosoms the doubt and despair which darkened his own,to lead his readersthe vast multitude of the beautiful, the pure and the gifted, who knelt to his genius as to the manifestations of a new divinityinto that ever darkened path which is trodden only by the lost to hopethe forsaken of Heavenand which leads from the perfect light of holiness down to the shadows of eternal death. If ever man possessed the power of controlling at ~viI1 the passions of his readers, that man was Lord Byron. He knew and felt the mightiness of this powerand he loved its exerciseto kindle in a thousand bosoms the strange fire which desolated his own. He loved to shake down with a giants strength the strongest pillars of human confidenceto unfix the young and susceptible spirit from its allegi- ance to virtue and to the dearest ties of nature. No man ever drew finer and more enchanting pictures of the social virtuesand love and friendship never seem more beautiful than when made the subject of his vivid and graphic delineation. But a cold sneer of scepticism, an unfeeling turn of expression, or a vulgar and disgusting companion associated with images of purity and loveliness, breaks in upon the delicious reverie of the reader, like a foul satyr in the companionship of angels; and the holiness of beauty departsthe sweet spell is broken forever, and the sacred image of virtue is associated with dis- gust and abhorrence. It seems as if the mighty magician delighted in adorning with the sun-like hues of his imagination the Paradise of Virtue, in order to discover more fully the fell power which he pos- sessed, of darkening and defacing the fair vision, of sending the curse 104 A Natick Tale. of his own perverted feelings to brood over it, like the wing of a de- stroying angel. What, for instance, can be more beautifulmore deeply imbued with the genuine spirit of pure and holy love, than the epistle of Julia to her lover, in Don Juan! Yet to whom are these sentiments attributed? To a vile and polluted paramouran adulteress; to a bosom glowing, not with the ethereal principle of love, but with the fires of a consum- ing and guilty passion. They should have emanated from a heart as pure and unsullied as the descending snow-flakes, before one stain of earth had dimmed its original purity. Geniusthe pride of geniuswhat is there in it, after all, to take the precedence of virtue? Why should we worship the hideousness of vice, although the glowing drapery of angel be gathered about it? In the awful estimate of eternity, what is the fame of a Shakspeare to the beautiful humility of a heart sanctified by the approval of the Searcher of all bosoms? The lowliest taster of the pure and living waters of religion is a better and wiser man, than the deepest quaffer at the fount of Helicon; and the humble follower of that sublime phi- losophy of heaven, which the pride of the human heart accounteth fool- ishness, is greater and worthier than the skilled in human science, whose learning and glory only enable them Sapienter ad inftrnum descendere. A NATICI( TALE. WHETHER the following story is literally consistent with truth, or founded partly on fact and partly on fiction, or merely a production of fancy, I pretend not to decide. It is not inconsistent with the nature of things to suppose, that it may be either of the three. If the reader can be satisfied with nothing below the standard of the super- lative productions of Irving or Scott, he will do well to lay this aside immediately. If he can be gratified, in some good degree, with a plain unvarnished tale, he is modestly invited to proceed to the perusal of it. The indefatigable, and, in many instances, successful labors of the apostolic Eliot, in civilizing and christianizing the Indians of Massa- chusetts, are very generally known and highly appreciated. He, in fact, adopted the only rational method for the accomplishing of his purpose. It was a favorite maxim with him, that the savages must be in a good degree civilized, before they can be evangelized. Hence he fed them at first with the sincere milk of the word, instead of such strong meat, as the most metaphysical mind can with difficulty digest. By collecting together a number of families in permanent habitations, hy teaching them how to construct more comfortable dwellings, than those to which they had been accustomed, by instructing them in agri- culture, orcharding, and some of the most important of the mechanic arts, and by inducing them to understand and obey the more plain and practical precepts of the gospel, he made them feel that godliness is

A Natick Tale Original Papers 104-110

104 A Natick Tale. of his own perverted feelings to brood over it, like the wing of a de- stroying angel. What, for instance, can be more beautifulmore deeply imbued with the genuine spirit of pure and holy love, than the epistle of Julia to her lover, in Don Juan! Yet to whom are these sentiments attributed? To a vile and polluted paramouran adulteress; to a bosom glowing, not with the ethereal principle of love, but with the fires of a consum- ing and guilty passion. They should have emanated from a heart as pure and unsullied as the descending snow-flakes, before one stain of earth had dimmed its original purity. Geniusthe pride of geniuswhat is there in it, after all, to take the precedence of virtue? Why should we worship the hideousness of vice, although the glowing drapery of angel be gathered about it? In the awful estimate of eternity, what is the fame of a Shakspeare to the beautiful humility of a heart sanctified by the approval of the Searcher of all bosoms? The lowliest taster of the pure and living waters of religion is a better and wiser man, than the deepest quaffer at the fount of Helicon; and the humble follower of that sublime phi- losophy of heaven, which the pride of the human heart accounteth fool- ishness, is greater and worthier than the skilled in human science, whose learning and glory only enable them Sapienter ad inftrnum descendere. A NATICI( TALE. WHETHER the following story is literally consistent with truth, or founded partly on fact and partly on fiction, or merely a production of fancy, I pretend not to decide. It is not inconsistent with the nature of things to suppose, that it may be either of the three. If the reader can be satisfied with nothing below the standard of the super- lative productions of Irving or Scott, he will do well to lay this aside immediately. If he can be gratified, in some good degree, with a plain unvarnished tale, he is modestly invited to proceed to the perusal of it. The indefatigable, and, in many instances, successful labors of the apostolic Eliot, in civilizing and christianizing the Indians of Massa- chusetts, are very generally known and highly appreciated. He, in fact, adopted the only rational method for the accomplishing of his purpose. It was a favorite maxim with him, that the savages must be in a good degree civilized, before they can be evangelized. Hence he fed them at first with the sincere milk of the word, instead of such strong meat, as the most metaphysical mind can with difficulty digest. By collecting together a number of families in permanent habitations, hy teaching them how to construct more comfortable dwellings, than those to which they had been accustomed, by instructing them in agri- culture, orcharding, and some of the most important of the mechanic arts, and by inducing them to understand and obey the more plain and practical precepts of the gospel, he made them feel that godliness is A Natick Tale. 105 profitable as it respects the life that now is, as well as in regard to the hope which it inspires of a happier life to come. By these means, under Divine Providence, in the course of a few years he had the satisfaction of seeing a number of praying towns, inhabited by the children of the forest. The principal of these was Natick. Here the rude wigwam was succeeded by the decent framed house; the apple-tree took place of the trees of the wood; grain xvaved in the rays of the sun, where, iiot long before, stood a wilderness im- pervious to his beams, and domestic flocks and herds grazed in the open pastures, where but lately the wild beasts of the forest alone were wont to prowl for prey. A school for instruction in reading, writing, and arithmetic was founded on the spot, where ignorance and indo- lence had recently reposed. Prayer, praise and thanksgiving were heard to ascend to the Father of all good, in the spirit of joyful hope, where, erewbile, the diabolical powow was howled forth to the imag- inary father of evil, through a servile and soul-degrading fear. In the sacred though lowly chapel, the duties of Christianity were taught, and its holy rites administered, and many of the red men walked in its commandments and ordinances blameless. Such was the condition of this settlement, when a respectable En- glish family moved into it and fixed their residence among the abo- rigines. The father and his sons were competently skilled in the trade of the carpenter, mason, smith, and cordwainer; the mother arid daughters, in knitting, spinning, we ving, and m~king garments. In addition to these employments, this family cultivated a farm and managed a dairy. They were of essential service in assisting the de- vout and philanthropic Eliot, not only by exhibiting before their red neighbors examples of piety, virtue, industry and economy, but by in- instructing them in the most necessary and useful arts. In church, in school, and in their daily occupations, they mingled ~vith the natives on the footing of perfect equality. At this time there resided at this place a native, but little past the age of twenty years, whose form was of that manly beauty, for which the aboriginal Americans were so justly celebrated. lie had been for a considerable time a pupil of Eliot and an inmate of his family. He had adopted the English costume and manners. In his person and dress he was remarkably neat and tasteful, and in his deportment graceful and prepossessing. He had studied, with considerable suc- cess, several of the liberal arts and sciences, was w eli instructed in the doctrines and duties of Christianity, and, as he gave abundant evidence that lie had embraced this religion with his whole heart, Eliot was now employing him as a schoolmaster and occasional preacher among the lost sheep of his tribe. Civilization had not rendered him effeminate; for he retained all his native vigor, and might justly be said to have ained the true object of education, that is, the possession of a sound mind in a sound body. In addition to his other qualifications he was skillful in the use of all the simples, known in his nation to be effica- cious in the cure of diseases; and was not unfrequently called upon as a physician, by the white people in the neighboring towns, as well as by those of his own color in the place of his nativity. Feeling unbounded gratitude towards Eliot, his spiritual guide and father, his friendship was very naturally extended to all the white VOL. III. 14 106 A Natick Tale. people, with whom he became acquainted. He very naturally felt a peculiar attachment to the only white family in his native village, whom he frequently visited ; and, in process of time, he very naturally felt for their eldest daughter, Lydia, about his own age, a somewhat more powerful passion than friendship. Nor is it wholly unnatural to suppose that Lydia, who seldom saw any young men of her own com- plexion, should at least respect the good qualities of one, whose skin was some shades darker than her own. In reality, hoth felt a growing attachment to each other, though both were sensible of the inexpedi- ency, if not impropriety, of cberishing it. Tbe increasing mutual fondness of these young persons could not long escape the penetrating eye of Lydias anxious mother, who, to- gether with her father, reprimanded her severely, and took measures entirely to prevent in future the visits of Bran, which was the name of our hero. 1-us parents also felt that natural aversion to intermar- riages, which is in a great degree prevalent among all nations, even of the same color; and they used their most strenuous exertions to direct the affections of their son to a more suitable object. What xvere the feelings, on this occasion, of the two lovers, (for so 1 may as well denominate them at once,) I leave the reader to imagine; or, if he or she insists on a description of them, one may be found in almost any play, novel or romance, that is worth a perusal. I proceed with my narrative. In a few days Lydia was taken ill with a fever. An English physician was sent for, who came and prescribed, but without effect. Another was called in for consultation. Still she grew worse, and at length was declared past recovery. At this solemn period, the parents were advised to consult Bran, who had been frequently successful in difhicult cases. In that state of desperation, in xvhich a drowning man catches at a straw, her parents consented. He came and prescribed; the fever speedily left her; and she gradually recovered her former state of health, strength and vivacity. Which had the greatest efficacy in her restoration, the company and conversation of the physician, or the simples, which he prescribed as medicine, I will not undertake to determine. Certain it is, that, during his visits he found an opportunity to declare his strong and unalterable affection far his patient, and she to declare that, as she owed her life to him, the remainder of it should be devoted to the promotion of his happiness. At this time King Philips war was raging, and the English inhabit- ants, being jealous that the praying Indians would join their ene- mies, barbarously seized them, and hurried them down to an island in the harbor of Boston, where they were closely confined and carefully guarded. Bran, with a very few others, was permitted to remain at home, and assist in guarding the garrison of Lydias father; but her parents still persisting in their opposition to her tender regard for hini, immediately on the restoration of her health, sent her to Medfield, to reside with her uncle and aunt, who had no children; hoping that, by uniting with those of her own nation only, her unhappy predilection would be overcome. Here her friends made use of every expedient they could devise, to induce her to transfer her affections. At one time they assailed her with the most serious expostulations ; at another A Natick Tale. 107 attacked her with sarcastic raillery. Among other things, such doggrel as the following was handed round among her young associates Fair Lydia thinks it right, Most closely to unite The red rose and the white. Sure Lydia would live on the cheapest plan, She asks nothing more than Indian Bran. But all these exertions drew nothing from the unfortunate girl but sighs and tears. But a few days elapsed, ore another kind of trouble fell upon her and the rest of the inhabitants of that ill-fated town, in which she re- sided. At day-break they were roused from their slumbers by the tre- mendous war-whoop of the savage enemy; most of their buildings were reduced to ashes; a large number of the people were slaughtered; and many were led captive into the wilderness. Among the latter were Lydia and her uncle and aunt. The news of this disaster reached Bran and his associates, in the course of the day, and he instantly resolved to rescue his beloved Lydia, or perish in the attempt. lie disappeared from the garrison; exchanged his English dress for the costume of the savage warrior; painted his face in the most terrific style; supplied himself with the best of arms and ammunition; and filled his pack with a plenty of pro- vision, not forgetting a purse of money and a large flask of occapee, the Indian name for rum, well knowing the power of both, either in savage or civilized society. Thus provided, he steered immediately for the Wachuset, having learned from spies, some weeks before, that the general rendezvous of the enemy was in the neighborhood of that mountain. By rapid traveling the ~vhole of the succeeding night, and till late in the afternoon of the following day, most of the way through a pathless wilderness, he began to ascend the Wachuset. Having arrived at such a height, as enabled him to overlook the surrounding country to a con- siderable extent, he halted to take a survey; and immediately discov- ered, at the distance of two or three miles, the smoke, high curling from the Indian encampment. He here seated himself upon a log, resolving to take some rest and refreshment, of which till now he had scarcely thought, since the commencement of his expedition. He watched and listened with intense anxiety. In less than half an hour he heard, at the distance of a mile or more from the camp, a most dismal funereal howl of hundreds of human voices, which was res- ponded by an innumerable multitude stationed in the reverberating forest. This arose from the party just returned from Medfield, and was repeated s m~ ny time~ as they had lost warriors in the assault. To these horrible howlings succeeded the triumphant yells of the savages, according to the numbers they had butchered and brought away captive; and these, too, were echoed from the rendezvous xvith astounding vociferation. By the time these hideous noises had subsided, night overspread the dense forest, and no objects were visible, excepting the gloomy light of the watch-fires, which dimly shone among the towering cver- greens. A feast was speedily prepared with the spoils they had taken, and a large portion of the iiight xvas m\ He hideous with noisy 108 A Natik Talc. riot aiid reveling. Bran now matured his plan of operation for the morning. He determined to use that treachery, which, by savages, is called stratagem, and, by civilized nations, policy in war. He resolved to appear among the enemy at sunrise, to declare himself a deadly foe to the white men, to enlist with those who desired their extermination, and to watch a favorable opportunity to desert with the object of his fondest affection. At dawn of day he moved towards the camp, and at sunrise pre- sented himself before it. The first object, that met his eye, was a lovely xvhite female tied to a stake, surrounded with dry combustibles. At a short distance stood, spectators of the horrid scene, a group of despairing, heart-broken captives. Around, in smaller and larger cir- cles, the savages were dancing and shouting with the frenzied ferocity of demons. At the sight of Bran all became instantly still and silent. A chief approached and conducted him within the inmost circle of warriors, in the centre of which the wretched victim was hound to the stake, ready to he sacrificed by lingering tortures to relentless cruelty. The victim was Lydia. Bran instantly knew her; but he was so dis- guised by dress and painting, that it was impossible for her to recog- nize him. As far as in his power he concealed and suppressed his agonizing sensations, and addressed the warrior chiefs, in their own language, to the following effect BaoTnaasI have been deceived. I thought the white men the children of the great and good spirit; but I have found them to be the spawn of Hobomok. Their religion is made of good words and bad deeds. They say they love In- dians; but they only covet the lands of Indians. I and all my tribe have been friends of white men; we are now their foes. The white men have made pris- oners of my father, mother, brothers, sisters, friends. I hunger after revenge. I thirst for white mens blood. I take hold of the same tomahawk with you. BrothersI know that young woman at the stake. Give her up to me. Let me be her torturer. Let her blood in part allay the burning thirst, that is con- suming my vitals. I know some of the other captives. Let me torture them. It will increase their torment to know that it is inflicted by me. BrothersI have done. My heart is yours already. Will you accept my hand to help you to annihilate the white men? This talk was received with loud shouts of approbation, and Braii was adopted as a chief. Lydia was given up to his disposal. While lie was releasing her from the stake, he informed her who he was, what was his object, and how sh~ must conduct herself. He told her he must appear to treat her with severity, in presence of the Indians, and that she must quietly submit, the better to conceal their intention to desert. Having unbound her, he carried her fainting to a wigwam, which was appropriated to his us~, spread his blanket on the ground, placed her upon it and administered cordials and other refreshments, which he had brought with him, and which soon revived her. He now learned that the cause of her sentence to the torture was her en- deavoring to escape from captivity ; and that the rest of the prisoners were forced to be spectators of the sacrifice, to deter them from a sirn- ilar attempt. Brans next object was to get Lydias uncle and aunt into his pos- session. For this purpose, he invited to his wigwam the three Indians, who captured Lydia and her relatives, and consequently claimed them as their property. here, after telling them, in her hearing, how lie meant to torture her and her relations, if he could gain possession of A Natick Tal. 109 them, he made handsome present in money to her late in ster, and the still more grateful donation of a generous dram of occapee; offer- ing, at the same time, to trade with the other two on the same condi- tions. His proposal was eagerly accepted, and the captives delivered into his custody. He would gladly have purchased more of them, but feared that, by attempting too much, he should meet with a disastrous disappointment. The three Indians having retired, well satisfied with his treatment of themselves and the prisoners, he gave the latter brief directions how to behave, and then invited the principal chiefs to a council of war. He told them, that the white men knew where they were, and that on the next day a numerous and powerful army would attack them. lie advised them, therefore, to send off, towards Connecticut river, the old men, women, and children, and that the stout and brave warriors should remain where they now were, to give the Englishmen battle. His plan was approved, and preparations immediately made to carry it into execution. It was proposed that small guards should be placed on all sides of the camp, and that the main body should sleep on their arms. As Brans wigwam was one of the outermost, and barricaded with logs, it was designated as one of the guard-houses, and his company was appointed as one of the guards. At dark, Bran planted his sentinels, in a line with the guard-house, on each side of it, at a considerable distance from it and from each other, promising to relieve them at mid- night, by those, who were to sleep at his quarters till that time. A death-like silence now prevailed throughout the camp, when Bran drew forth his flask of occapee, having previously infused into it a strong decoction of soporific herbs, and treated his joyous soldiers to a dram, which speedily laid them asleep for the night. They might now have easily destroyed the sleeping foemen; but, knowing that their death would be avenged by the destruction of at least an equal number of their captive countrymen, they permitted them to sleep un- molested. The desired hour of escape had now arrived. No time was lost. Bran slung his pack, replenished with provisions, and seized his trusty rifle. The uncle did the same with the best supplied pack and the best rifle and accoutrements, belonging to the Indians. The aunt and niece took each a brace of pistols and suitable ammunition, which the Indians had recently plundered from the English. Bran moved for- ward, Lydia and her aunt followed rank entire, and her uncle brought up the rear. Their homeward march was rapid, being quickened by the most animating hope and most appalling fear. Daylight found them among the ruins of Lancaster. Here they se- creted themselves among the rubbish in the cellar of a house, that had been demolished, with most of the buildings in that town, hut a few weeks before. As it happened, however, their fear of being pursued was groundless; for so soon as the Indians discovered that Bran had deserted with his white associates, and that their companions in arms were in a sleep, from which they could not rouse them, they were struck with a panic. They concluded that he was a sorcerer, and that it would be vain to pursue him. Fearing also that an English army might be on the way to meet them, they hastily decamped, bay 110 Reminiscences of a ing the sleeping guard, should they ever chance to wake, to follow them and explain the mystery of their enchantment. Bran and his companions lay concealed the whole of the day, and at night set forward with renewed vigor and alacrity. They traveled all night; and the next morning the sun rose upon them in the hospit- ahle township of Concord. The worthy inhabitants of this place wel- comed them with hearty congratulations, and furnished them with horses and an escort for the remainder of their journey. About noon the parents of Lydia had the inexpressible happiness of embracing their daughter, and brother and sister, and of most heartily thanking their deliverer; who, having scoured the paint from his countenance appeared about as light-colored and comely, in their eyes, as many of their own sun-burnt countrymen. He now demanded the release of the praying Indians from their cruel confinement, declaring that they were all as ready as himself to be serviceable to the English; and by the kind co-operation of Eliot and Gookin, they were soon restored to their former dwellings. The reader, especially the youthful reader, is, no doubt, anxious to know if this second Othcllo was finally married to the Desdemona, whom he had twice rescued from the very jaws of death. He was and by that holy man of God, the apostle Eliot ; and, in so far as my information extends, they lived and died as virtuously, piously and happily, as most married couples, whose complexion is the same. B. REMINISCENCES OF A RETIRED MILITIA OFFICER. NO. IV. AT the age of twenty-seven, I found myself elevated to the rank of colonel of the Applesbury regiment, an event, with the mention of which my last number closes. This station had long been the chief object of my ambition, and nown whe I had attained it, I began to look back, and count the cost. In the first place, my paternal inheritance was quite expended, the last hundred dollars of it being devoted to the purchase of my new uniform. In the second place, I was quite disqualified for the peaceful, civic profession in which I had been educated; and, instead of writs, pleas, demurrers, and the other quiet technicalities of the law, my mind ran entirely upon guns, drums, trumpets, and military musters. In the third place,and what I felt more than all,I was a disap- pointed lover; I had seen the mistress of my affections, snatched from my arms by a withered old bachelor,and all because I had loved my country and its service better than myself. In the fourth place, (for I have vowed to conceal nothing; but in that spirit of devotedness to the good of my fellow citizens, which has distinguished all my conduct, to make a full confession,) I had unfor- tunately contracted a habit of drinking, which made daily inroads on my constitution and my character. In these days of temperance so-

Bellerophon Burdock Burdock, Bellerophon Reminiscences of a Retired Militia Officer. No. IV. Original Papers 110-113

110 Reminiscences of a ing the sleeping guard, should they ever chance to wake, to follow them and explain the mystery of their enchantment. Bran and his companions lay concealed the whole of the day, and at night set forward with renewed vigor and alacrity. They traveled all night; and the next morning the sun rose upon them in the hospit- ahle township of Concord. The worthy inhabitants of this place wel- comed them with hearty congratulations, and furnished them with horses and an escort for the remainder of their journey. About noon the parents of Lydia had the inexpressible happiness of embracing their daughter, and brother and sister, and of most heartily thanking their deliverer; who, having scoured the paint from his countenance appeared about as light-colored and comely, in their eyes, as many of their own sun-burnt countrymen. He now demanded the release of the praying Indians from their cruel confinement, declaring that they were all as ready as himself to be serviceable to the English; and by the kind co-operation of Eliot and Gookin, they were soon restored to their former dwellings. The reader, especially the youthful reader, is, no doubt, anxious to know if this second Othcllo was finally married to the Desdemona, whom he had twice rescued from the very jaws of death. He was and by that holy man of God, the apostle Eliot ; and, in so far as my information extends, they lived and died as virtuously, piously and happily, as most married couples, whose complexion is the same. B. REMINISCENCES OF A RETIRED MILITIA OFFICER. NO. IV. AT the age of twenty-seven, I found myself elevated to the rank of colonel of the Applesbury regiment, an event, with the mention of which my last number closes. This station had long been the chief object of my ambition, and nown whe I had attained it, I began to look back, and count the cost. In the first place, my paternal inheritance was quite expended, the last hundred dollars of it being devoted to the purchase of my new uniform. In the second place, I was quite disqualified for the peaceful, civic profession in which I had been educated; and, instead of writs, pleas, demurrers, and the other quiet technicalities of the law, my mind ran entirely upon guns, drums, trumpets, and military musters. In the third place,and what I felt more than all,I was a disap- pointed lover; I had seen the mistress of my affections, snatched from my arms by a withered old bachelor,and all because I had loved my country and its service better than myself. In the fourth place, (for I have vowed to conceal nothing; but in that spirit of devotedness to the good of my fellow citizens, which has distinguished all my conduct, to make a full confession,) I had unfor- tunately contracted a habit of drinking, which made daily inroads on my constitution and my character. In these days of temperance so- Retired Militia Officer. 111 cieties, this will no doubt be regarded as a heavy item in the account. At that time, it was less thought of; since it was the universal custom, in all regiments of the militia, with which I had any acquaintance, for the officers, on every muster day, to get gloriously drunk in their countrys service. So stood one side of my account current with the world and the militia. On summing it up, I thought then, and I think now, that the amount was sufficiently serious. . But, to counterbalance it, there stood arrayed, on the other side, the following items First, Military Glory! It deserves a line by itselfMILITARY GLORy! The unwarlike, unambitious reader may cry, Fudge! but, for all that, there is some- thing in it. Something, I cannot tell what; but something that will induce a man to relinquish all other of lifes pursuits and pleasures; something that absorbs the soul, and makes one insensible of pain, of mortification, of poverty, of disgrace; something, the recollection of which, consoles me even in an almshouse, and makes my heart swell with the remembrance of former delights! Secondly, The pleasure of wearing a blue uniform flushed with red, riding on horse-hack at the head of a regiment, and being much ad- mired, as Spenser expresses it, Of fools, women and boys, the gaping crowd, who follow in every great mans train. Thirdly, The noble consciousness of serving my country. These three considerations, at that time) seemed to me sufficient to raise a heavy balance in favor of the militia. I have often reconsidered the matter, especially since my retirement to this, my present asylum and, though I must confess, that I have sometimes had my misgivings, (as who has not?) yet, on the most settled and serious estimate of the matter, I am satisfied, I was right,.satisfled that, when 1 commenced my career as colonel, I was vastly in debt to the militia; and my in- debtedness to it has since gone on every day increasing. It is not my intention to write the military history of the common- wealth; I therefore shall not enter into details of my achievements as a colonel. I have desired rather, for the benefit of the young aspirant after military renown, to show the steps by which I obtained a prefer- ment so honorable to myself; and so useful to my country; the deeds which rendered that preferment so honorable on the one hand, and so useful on the other, I shall leave to be recorded by other pens. Let me observe, however, that the meridian glory of my military career corresponded exactly with the era of the last war, and that, beside my ever-to-be-remembered deeds of valor at fall reviews, and spring inspections, I attained immortal renoxvn in that famous cain- paign on Boston Common, in which the Massachusetts militia so en- tirely routed the British fleet, which was cruising off the harbor. At this eventful period, my well-known vigor and activity caused my ser- vices to be in the greatest demand, and I was continually pa~sing from one corner of the state to the other, on military duty. By way of specimen of my wonderful courage and success, I shall take the liberty of briefly describing a single incident in my career, which, at the time, made a great noise, and was thou ~ h t to be, on the whole, the most 112 Reminiscences of a honorable to the militia, of any thing that happened in the course of the xvar. I was stationed, with three or four companies under my command, to protect a considerable town on the sea-coast, against the insults of the enemys fleet. On a point of land, projecting into the sea, was a considerable fort, built with much art, and every way admirably fitted for service, except that it had no guns in it. However, in the centre of the fort was a watch-house, where a corporals guard was stationed, my head-quarters being in the town, about half a mile distant. One very dark, rainy night, when every thing was still in the town, and the corporal and his guard,like prudent men, as they were,slept quietly under cover of the guard-house, one of the enemys cruisers, which lay some three miles distant in the offing, sent a boats crew ashore, to attack the fort. They reached the beach at the foot of the little promontory on which our fortifications had been thrown up, and, under protection of the darkness, they scaled the walls of the fort, made the corporal and his guard prisoners, and set fire to the watch- house. As the fort had no guns, they were not able to fire upon the town; such is the wisdom of placing no armament in those fortifica- tions which are intrusted to the militia! Indeed, so great is the fer- tility of their resources, and the greatness of their courage, that, on most occasions, they do better without arms than with them; and I have often thought that the muskets they carry might be laid aside as quite uselesss. But this is a digression. Like a xvise and vigilant commander, I happened that night, just as the watch-house blazed up, to be looking out of my chamber window, being kept awake, by a very severe tooth-ache; and, I no sooner saw the light, than, guessing what might be the matter, I sprung out of lied, and bawling at the top of my voice, soon raised the whole household. They commenced bawling, also, and soon raised the whole town. Lights began to dance from window to window, the church bell began to ring, the children to cry, the dogs to bark, the pigs to squeal, and the huge uproar soon reached the ears of the enemy in the fort, and suggested to them the wisdom of retreat. Accordingly, they hastened to embark, and before I could get a ser- geant and ten men equipped for action, the enemy were two hundred yards from the shore, rowing with might and main, for the ship. Not content, however, with escaping, and expecting, I suppose, that a single cannon shot would drive all the militia out of the town, and cause even the valiant heart of Colonel Burdock himself to quake within him, they pointed a gun which was fixed in the centre of their boat, either at the church bell, or at the colonels quarters; as the world has generally supposed, at the former, but as I have always be- lieved, at the latter. But whatever they aimed at, the rebound of the gun was so forci- ble, as to beat a plank from the bottom of the boat, which filled with water, and sunk immediately. Ran apparent nantes in gurgite vasto. Some sunk, some swam, some caught at oars and seats, and floated as they could. The towns people launched their boats immediately, and picking up the swimming rascals, delivered them over to the military Walking. 113 authority; and these prisoners, captured by the valor of the militia, were next day marched off to Boston, with great ceremony. The cor- poral and his guard had been picked up among the rest, and were re- stored to the embraces of their companions in arms; and the skill and courage, with which I had repelled the danger that threatened us, were the theme of universal conversation. At low water, the enemys gun was fished up from the bottom, and is preserved to this day, in eternal remembrance of the thing. I have lately understood that it is the intention of the governor to have a suitable inscription engraved upon it. While the war lasted, being in the pay of the government, I did very well; but at the return of peace, I began to feel the conse- quences of the derangement of my private affairs. I was harassed by duns and constables, sued, imprisoned, and sworn out of gaol. My heart swells with emotion at the thought of my abasement; the truth, however, must be told; but it shall be as briefly as possible. Dunned, sued, imprisoned, even the consciousness of my military glory some- times failed to support me, and I sought consolation in the bottle. Things went on from bad to worse, till, at last, I was obliged to resign my colonels commission. I sunk gradually into obscurity, but still retained my love for military affairs; and when, at last I could do no better, I was content to swab out the artillery of the regiment I had once commanded. Of late years, I have found a refuge in the Applebury almshouse. My employment is picking oakum ; for the bruises received by some twenty falls from my horse, in the course of my military career, have incapacitated me for any more active labor; circumstances have com- pelled me to purge and live cleanly I solace my leisure hours with meditations on military glory, and the vanity of earthly things; and, having lived a soldier, I hope to die a philosopher. BELLEROPHON BURDOCK. WALKING. THE English are the handsomest race of men on earth, only because they walk more than any other people. Man is a traveling animal, and a state of rest is unnatural; he outrages nature and pro- propriety when he rides, having been created to walk. The first inventor of wheels might have been better employed; he has filled the civilized world with indolence and disease. There are more strange vehicles than can be classed or named. The greatest mechanical geniuses of the age study only to promote locomotion by means of railways, Macadam roads and velocipedes. They are, like lovers, bent upon annihilating time and space. Had Archimedes lived now, he would have studied not to move the world, but to propel a rail-road car. The velocipede is the least objectionable of all vehicles ; it has a sort of ostrich gait, neither walking nor yet riding. The body rests, but the feet move. I suppose that, after man fell, one of his first propensities was to catch a horse and ride. Cain, probably, had an aversion to walking. Na VOL. Iii. 15

G. W. W., G. Walking Original Papers 113-115

Walking. 113 authority; and these prisoners, captured by the valor of the militia, were next day marched off to Boston, with great ceremony. The cor- poral and his guard had been picked up among the rest, and were re- stored to the embraces of their companions in arms; and the skill and courage, with which I had repelled the danger that threatened us, were the theme of universal conversation. At low water, the enemys gun was fished up from the bottom, and is preserved to this day, in eternal remembrance of the thing. I have lately understood that it is the intention of the governor to have a suitable inscription engraved upon it. While the war lasted, being in the pay of the government, I did very well; but at the return of peace, I began to feel the conse- quences of the derangement of my private affairs. I was harassed by duns and constables, sued, imprisoned, and sworn out of gaol. My heart swells with emotion at the thought of my abasement; the truth, however, must be told; but it shall be as briefly as possible. Dunned, sued, imprisoned, even the consciousness of my military glory some- times failed to support me, and I sought consolation in the bottle. Things went on from bad to worse, till, at last, I was obliged to resign my colonels commission. I sunk gradually into obscurity, but still retained my love for military affairs; and when, at last I could do no better, I was content to swab out the artillery of the regiment I had once commanded. Of late years, I have found a refuge in the Applebury almshouse. My employment is picking oakum ; for the bruises received by some twenty falls from my horse, in the course of my military career, have incapacitated me for any more active labor; circumstances have com- pelled me to purge and live cleanly I solace my leisure hours with meditations on military glory, and the vanity of earthly things; and, having lived a soldier, I hope to die a philosopher. BELLEROPHON BURDOCK. WALKING. THE English are the handsomest race of men on earth, only because they walk more than any other people. Man is a traveling animal, and a state of rest is unnatural; he outrages nature and pro- propriety when he rides, having been created to walk. The first inventor of wheels might have been better employed; he has filled the civilized world with indolence and disease. There are more strange vehicles than can be classed or named. The greatest mechanical geniuses of the age study only to promote locomotion by means of railways, Macadam roads and velocipedes. They are, like lovers, bent upon annihilating time and space. Had Archimedes lived now, he would have studied not to move the world, but to propel a rail-road car. The velocipede is the least objectionable of all vehicles ; it has a sort of ostrich gait, neither walking nor yet riding. The body rests, but the feet move. I suppose that, after man fell, one of his first propensities was to catch a horse and ride. Cain, probably, had an aversion to walking. Na VOL. Iii. 15 114 Walking. tionally, the best riders are the most barbarous people. The Turk, who seldom walks across the street, and who ties his beautiful wife in a sack and throws her into the Bosphorus, is more at home in the sad- dle than on the cushion. I was an early walker; while a mere boy I used to walk eight miles to school; and I remember with pride, that, in my sports, I never bestrode a twig, to beguile the way by the imagina- tion of a ride. When I was a young man I lacked something to do, like Hotspur; so, I rose one morning early, and followed the sun west- ward. This was at Philadelphia, and I carried a small gun over the mountains. I had ten dollars, and a draft on Marietta, for all the rest of my wealth, which was something less than fifty dollars more. I was so prudent at the green age of nineteen, that I insured against my own prodigality, by traveling with the draft instead of the money; well knowing, that what I had not I could not spend. But, like other younkers, I forgot the future, and loitered along by the green meadows, the waving woods and falling waters, till I had exhausted my funds at the foot of the Alleghany mountains. Then I roasted pigeons, squirrels, and other game. I lodged wherever I could make it convenient. Once I slept in a sheepfold, by the side of the bleaters, and had I but had a large knife, I might have supped upon mutton, for I had become tired of game. At the Juniata I found an over- hanging shelf of rock, which I spread with leaves and boughs, after I had built a little parapet near the river, lest in a disturbed slumber I should roll over the precipice. The roar of waters was a lullaby, and I was above the reach of the spray. The water-spirits held a meeting that night; I assuredly heard shouts and voices from below, mingled with the tumult of the fall. On the next night I lodged, much to my mind, upon clean straw, with a bag of wheat for a bolster. To be sure, I was somewhat tickled about the face, like Bottom; but I drew the straw around me with a feeling of comfort and independence. At midnight I was roused by a rustling in it, and, raising my body suddenly, I beheld a huge black dog standing within a yard of me; luckily, his fright was greater than mine; he emitted a half smothered yelp, like the cur in Christabelle, and was off in an in- stant to the top of a hill, where he sat baying the moon till the old cock crowed from the great beam. Doubtless a dog is accessible to superstitious fears, like a man. What is known, man and beast can grapple with; but the unknown is too dreadful. The imagination creates more monsters than ever nature made. In a few days I be- came tired of this sylvan life, and longed for knives and forks, and napkins, and drew from my pocket for the fiftieth time, an old Savan- nah bank bill, which seemed but an unpromising subject for such distant circulation. I would have sold all my interest in it for a tenth of its nominal value. However, I walked boldly into the Independ- ent Harrisburgh Wagoners Rest, under the Laurel Ridge, and called for the Farmers Fare, which was promised to travelers on the sign. The landlady set before me, a beef-bone, a rhind of pork, two cold potatoes, and a bowl of butter-milk. Luxury is comparative, and my fare had lately been so indifferent that I enjoyed this ban- quet. I offered the Georgia scrip with the more confidence, thinking that the publican could not much object to the money, if I should for- bear to speak in dispraise of the dinner. As bold measures are best The Comet and the Cholera. 115 among strangers, I even asked him if he had not overcharged me: Sir, said he, for a snatch we charge a fippenny hit, and I cant afford a dinner like that for a cent less than eleven pence. I told him it was dear, but that I would he satisfied if he would give me silver in change, for I feared that he also had some Savannah bills whereupon he counted out nine dollars and eighty-seven cents in cur- rent coin. I could now afford to linger for a week among the moun- tains, and I visited many spots of great freshness and beauty. The Alleghany mountains are singular ridges, running parallel, with wide valleys or glades between them. They have few pinnacles or cliffs; but they are generally rounded. The views, however, are often very beautiful. The ridges are covered with noble forests, and the valleys are cultivated and watered with streams. On the side of the mountain the glades are open to the eye till lost in distance, and other blue ridges of the mountains are seen beyond. The fbrests here, and in the west, are unequaled on the earth. In the east, there is more gorgeous vegetation, and more profusion of flowers. But a for- est in the east is a tangled jungle, the lurking place of serpents and beasts of prey, and the region of miasma. In the west, no tiger prowls, no serpent coils itself around the branches, no noisome vapor strikes with disease and death. The huge trunks of trees stand so near that the branches and tops interlock and exclude the sun. There is no underbrush or grass. The noiseless step falls upon the moist decaying leaf, and the solitude is unshaken but by the dashing of a rivulet or the distant sound of the wind waving the tree tops. This describes but the commencement of a peregrination, which in four months I extended twelve hundred miles, and may hereafter de scribe. G. W. THE COMET AND THE CHOLERA. A LETTER TO THE EDiTORS ON POPULAR EXcITEMENT. How easily mankind are gulled! How slight are the causes which often suffice to throw the public into a fever! Who, that has lived in Massachusetts for the last six months, can wonder at the popular delirium caused by the Rev. Titus Gates, or the executions at Salem, for which our beloved Bay State yet blusheth? Me seemeth, that there must be a bump on the human noddle, not yet discovered by phrenolo~,ists, which should be called the organ of morbid ad,nirative- ness. It cannot be denied that the lords of creation are naturally prone to gloat on whatever is strange, monstrous, wicked, and horrible. A man shall pass through Washington-street with a head upon his shoulders, a handsome head, with its full complement of organs, and no one will look at him twice; but let a being appear with two heads, though it be but a swine, and man and boy run to see. A man with a long beard, nay, a fellow without a nose, shall attract universal attention. There are, perhaps, a hundred good men in Boston, whom no one esteems objects of curiosity; but thousands left their homes nd traveled scores of miles to enjoy the dying agonies of the monster

X. X. The Comet and the Cholera. A Letter to the Editors on Popular Excitement Original Papers 115-120

The Comet and the Cholera. 115 among strangers, I even asked him if he had not overcharged me: Sir, said he, for a snatch we charge a fippenny hit, and I cant afford a dinner like that for a cent less than eleven pence. I told him it was dear, but that I would he satisfied if he would give me silver in change, for I feared that he also had some Savannah bills whereupon he counted out nine dollars and eighty-seven cents in cur- rent coin. I could now afford to linger for a week among the moun- tains, and I visited many spots of great freshness and beauty. The Alleghany mountains are singular ridges, running parallel, with wide valleys or glades between them. They have few pinnacles or cliffs; but they are generally rounded. The views, however, are often very beautiful. The ridges are covered with noble forests, and the valleys are cultivated and watered with streams. On the side of the mountain the glades are open to the eye till lost in distance, and other blue ridges of the mountains are seen beyond. The fbrests here, and in the west, are unequaled on the earth. In the east, there is more gorgeous vegetation, and more profusion of flowers. But a for- est in the east is a tangled jungle, the lurking place of serpents and beasts of prey, and the region of miasma. In the west, no tiger prowls, no serpent coils itself around the branches, no noisome vapor strikes with disease and death. The huge trunks of trees stand so near that the branches and tops interlock and exclude the sun. There is no underbrush or grass. The noiseless step falls upon the moist decaying leaf, and the solitude is unshaken but by the dashing of a rivulet or the distant sound of the wind waving the tree tops. This describes but the commencement of a peregrination, which in four months I extended twelve hundred miles, and may hereafter de scribe. G. W. THE COMET AND THE CHOLERA. A LETTER TO THE EDiTORS ON POPULAR EXcITEMENT. How easily mankind are gulled! How slight are the causes which often suffice to throw the public into a fever! Who, that has lived in Massachusetts for the last six months, can wonder at the popular delirium caused by the Rev. Titus Gates, or the executions at Salem, for which our beloved Bay State yet blusheth? Me seemeth, that there must be a bump on the human noddle, not yet discovered by phrenolo~,ists, which should be called the organ of morbid ad,nirative- ness. It cannot be denied that the lords of creation are naturally prone to gloat on whatever is strange, monstrous, wicked, and horrible. A man shall pass through Washington-street with a head upon his shoulders, a handsome head, with its full complement of organs, and no one will look at him twice; but let a being appear with two heads, though it be but a swine, and man and boy run to see. A man with a long beard, nay, a fellow without a nose, shall attract universal attention. There are, perhaps, a hundred good men in Boston, whom no one esteems objects of curiosity; but thousands left their homes nd traveled scores of miles to enjoy the dying agonies of the monster 110 The Comet and the cholera. Mina. To sum up the case, less is said of Daniel Webster and John Marshall, who are growing gray in the exercise of the noblest func- tions of humanity, than of some who hold clerkships in certain depart- ments, to whom the inditing of political paragraphs has proved, liter- ally, bed, board, washing and lodging. I have a passion for botany, and am wont, in the spring, to plant flower-seeds in all the land I can call my own,a possession which may easily be measured with a yard-stick. This year, my seeds rotted in the ground. Bless your heart, cried a neighbor, to whom I men- tioned the circumstance, how could you expect warm weather when a comet is coming 2 He had hardly done speaking, when up came another neighbor, and desired to purchase a privilege in my tomb. He was anxious to provide himself a place of sepulchre forthwith, before the comet should have raised the price of the article. As he is a man, whose company, in any place, is creditable to his friends, I did not hesitate to accommo- date him. About noon, I received a letter from a country correspondent, who had, a few days before, nearly gotten a hard bargain out of me. Ex- pecting to find an acceptance of the terms I had foolishly offered, I opened the epistle, and, to my great relief, read as follows, verbatim. Estimed Friend. i am sorra that I cant take the moskowaydo Sugers marked S T as i like to doneailso the Kauphamy wife and my wifs muther thinks its no Use to deel til the Comeat curns Along, they says the Hotness will sour the here so shant want that Lott nither. if the Thing cums sune they thinks i shant be Abel to sell half the artikels. i am deer sur your Umbel servant Sinseerly NATHANIEL NOTION. The next moTning my little Tom returned, weeping, from his out- ward-bound voyage to school. Aunt Croaker, he said, had told him that there was a fellow round the corner with fiery horns, and a pro- digious tail. This dangerous fellows name was Comet. I was obliged to convey the child to the seminary, for there are no schools now, and at night he spoke of Mr. Comet in his dreams. When I accused my milk-man of watering his milk, he threw the blame on the comet. My butcher sold me a tough steak, and pleaded in excuse that the hairy meteor h~d put back the grass, so that good beef could not reasonably be expected. These arguments were not to he disputed, so that I have since lived chiefly on fishes, and paid clean silver for dirty water. Two or three of my acquaintances have insured their lives, and a reat ~a any have made their wills. I have been advised to do the same; but I do not feel disposed to do so. It is my firm resolution to rely on Providence, as I have always done. Moreover, I am told by some who are better acquainted with astronomy than myselg that the eccentric spheroid will come no nigher to us than some hundreds of millions of miles. They say, too, that the worst it can do, is to knock off one of the celestial bulls horns, and that its consistence is not thicker than hasty-pudding. Therefore, though the comet is said to be scalding hot, I do not think that the steam can reach us; and as for the bull, I care not what happens to him. I have had a mortal aver- sion to all bulls, ever since I was chased by one in my eleventh year. There is small reason, as the press is now conducted, to give cre- dence to what the newspapers say. However, when they all agree in The Comet and the Cholera. 117 stating any particular fact, I think we may believe them. At the time I write, (July 3d) they concur in affirming that the Union is in dan~ ger. A friend of mine, who has hut lately returned from the south~ tells me that the mob tore the coat from his back, because it had paid duties. They told him that they were resolved to nullify, and would hoe their own row in spite of all the Yankee pedlars in creation; nay, they would see him before they would ever be caught eating a salted fish. This happened somewhere in South-Carolina. So it seems that there is a popular excitement at the south, too. Still I do not believe that the Southrons will ever nullify. They are aware that Bunkers Hill stands just where it did sixty years ago. Never- theless, their threats have created no small anxiety. Then came a report of bloody war on the frontier of Illinois. The Saques and Foxes had broken a treaty, and fallen upon the borderers, eight thousand strong, though the two united tribes cannot muster over a thousand effective men, and it is not pretended that more than half of them have taken up arms. I speak advisedly. Two thousand friendly Menomenies, it is said, are ready to join the United States troops against the Saques and Foxes. Now, the Menomenies cannot muster more than two hundred warriors, and, therefore, cannot lend us two thousand. Moreover, the treaty which the hostile Saques and Foxes have broken, was urged on them by indirect compulsion: ergo, they are not much in the wrong. No fair treaty has been made with Indians, for lands, since the administration of Washington; and it is time that we should find that we cannot always trample on the weak with impunity. However, the Saques and Foxes will be put down, ultimately; but, my life on it, it will be found that the eight thousand stated to be in the field, will be found to be no more than five hundred, if so many. So much for the western popular excitement. Then came the Philadelphia Fencibles. Their visit was announced a month beforehand. One of our Boston companies had set the ex- ample of a grand unmilitary spunging expedition, as Johnston calls it, and the Philadelphians had a right to hospitality in return. So far, was so good; but our southern invincibles were received with as much pomp and parade, as if they had come to deliver us from the burthens of the accursed tariff. Lafayette was not more cordially greeted. They came as far as Roxbury by steam-boat and stage-coach, as soldiers should do, and thence strolled, (I cannot conscientiously say that they marched) into the city on foot. Cannons exploded, drums beat, flags were hoisted, and a Boston company, clad in a bran new uniform, made expressly for the occasion, turned out to receive them. Even the brigadier-general and his suite joined the escort. Then did babes and women shed tears of delight. Then did shopkeepers and the apprentices of shopkeepers, and eke all the friends of that great arm of our national defence, the militia, stare and gape. My son played truant, for which I tickled his catastrophe ; and my shop-boy deserted his post behind the counter, leaving the door open, to see the frolic. Some clever fellow, or fellows, took advantage of his delinquency to examine and empty the till. I forgive him or them, for he or they was or were better employed than his or their neighbors. My wife dragged me forth to see the show. The crowd, and heat, and dust, made my head ache, and I believe that I should have fainted 118 The comet and the Cholera. under the rays of military glory, had I not had the good fortune to secure a place in a second story. I saw the procession visions of Folly, spare my aching sight ! I served in my youth, and can there- fore speak of this matter understandingly. Infantry on horseback, with side arms, or at least, the sheaths! Those on foot, that is, the Philadelphia company, and that in bran new uniform, marched well enough, but for the restwhat will the militia come to! Each cava- her demonstrated his bodily vigor before the ladies, by an incessant flapping of the elbows. I expected every moment to hear the officers at least crow. Each held his body bent to a semicircle; some reached desperately at their stirrups; the knees of others threatened bloody war with their chins. My stomach ached to see them. They only wanted bells to their caps. It made my heart sick to see how ridicu- lous, good, sober citizens could make themselves. If they had separ- ated in pairs, and knuckled down at marbles on the side-walks, they would have less stirred my pity. I could have forgiven little children for playing sojer; but men! I cannot trust myself to say any thing more. For a week, boys could hardly be gotten to school, or appren- tices to work. It has been computed that this popular militia excite- inent cost the city fifty thousand dollars worth of time and labor. Cheap, as a broom! But the CHOLERAthe CholeraO the Cholera! Every one has his brain, and his abdomen, and his mouth full of cholera. The chol- era is about to decimate us. Every one inquires, What we shall do to be saved from the cholera? Reason replies, in the words of inspi- ration, Do thyself no harm by anticipations of trouble and evil, which may never come. Let reason, that beacon light which seldom leads astray, guide your steps. Live soberly, temperately, cleanly. Be charitable to the poor, and attentive to the sick. Hope all things, endure all things, and leave the result to Providence. Undoubtedly this dreadful and dreaded spirit is on its way towards us; but we may accelerate its arrival. The faculty agree that terror lends it wings. It will not, probably, visit us with even its usual se- verity. Boston is peculiarly happy in its airy location, and the cir- cumstances and habits of her citizens. New-York, it is hikely~, will suffer more. Her population are more closely packed, she has more absolutely wretched denizens; and, in a panic similar to that which now prevails, she, last year, mercilessly destroyed her scavengers, the dogs. These animals, so superior in usefulness, in intelligence, and in all the moral virtues to the ruffians who butchered them, would have saved hundreds, by removing the filth which will now generate chol- era. It would be a large allowance to suppose that they would have bitten three persons unto death. By killing them, New-York has struck a balance against herself. I am heartily glad to find that buildings have been set apart for hos- pitals in different parts of the city. There were some, who, when sanative measures were first suggested, would have had but one, which they would have placed in the most remote part of South-Boston. Luckily, this opinion did not prevail. According to the best authori- ties, the crisis of cholera arrives very soon after its access; in most instances, within an hour. If, therefore, there were but one remote hospital, nine patients out of ten would die before they could be con- The Comet and the Cholera. veyed to it. Such a regulation would have been a sentence of death to the poor. Especially do I hope, that, if the cholera reaches us, the city authorities will not permit the water to be drained from the Back bay, in any case. To open the flood-gates would he to expose the south part of the city to the exhalations of dock-mud and the marshes, which are bad enough already. I live near the Back bay. There are a great many boys in my neighborhood, whose supreme delight it has long been to witness the aquatic spasmodic convulsions ~of drowning cats and dogs. A score of these animals are at this moment anchored within a hun- dred yards of my house, and when the water is out, the breeze by no means resembles an air from heaven. Our health officers would do well to nose this nuisance, and keep the water in. The body of it is too large to admit of stagnation. Would it not be well to erect pillories for the punishment of such editors as fill their columns with unfounded rumors of pestilence, thereby killing some with fright, and making others wish for death? Would it not be well to compel every quack, whether in petticoats or inexpressibies, to swallow every dose he or she may prescribe to others? There be many opinions respecting cholera. Peter Plum has heard and believes, that it only attacks the poor, on whose lives he sets little or no value. He, therefore, eats turtle soup, and is confident that he shall escape. Tim Tipple has heard that brandy is the sovereir thing on earth in spasmodic disorders. He likes the idea passing well. He was for- merly wont to drink five drains per diem, but now he swallows fifteen. Many have great faith in humiliation and fasting, though cholera is said to effect immediate entrance into empty stomachs. Schoolmasters and schoolboys are generally of this belief. Apothecaries, who have a stock of camphor and opium on hand, generally consider the cholera a dispensation of Providence, which ought to be thankfully received. Our board of physicians have recommended a clear conscience as a preventive. Some who do not know the meaning of the word, and others who have disposed of the thing, laugh at the prescription. Many, who think that Africa is the native country of American- born blacks, hope that the cholera will effect their favorite project of removing the above-named people. Doubtless it would save them much trouble and expense. They contend that the negroes are horn heirs to suffering, and, therefore, their wishes are in accordance with humanity. Philip Pauper is a strenuous advocate for the CC Social System. He hopes that a great deal of property will soon be without an owner, and that he shall get a share. Frank Fidget declares, that if the cholera passes Boston without calling, he shall be grievously disappointed. He will, in that case, he says, have fretted himself almost to death for nothing. It almost broke his heart to hear that the tariff bill had passed the House of Representatives, for he has been prophesying a dissolution of the union any time in the last fifteen years. My maiden aunt Prue believes that the cholera will never be such an atheist as to attack the clergy. She even cherishes the hope that 120 New- York. the order of sanctity will protect all females who belong to the church. As for the men, she cares not what becomes of them, for they have neglected her. Many children who have rich parents, and many married people who have disagreeable partners, think that the prospects of our country were never so brilliant as now. To conclude seriously, the fiend is not so insatiable as he is gener- ally supposed to be. There was, indeed, a great mortality in Quebec. The papers tell us the reason. We have it on good authority, that five thousand emigrants landed in that city in one week, destitute, and almost naked. They lodged on the bare ground, and ate little. New potato whisky was their drink, and their food, if they had any, was mean and scanty. Was it wonderful that many perished? Opiates are prescribed in all spasmodic disorders, and especially in cases of cholera. Physicians vary the doses according to the constitu- tion of the patient. I have seen a robust man swallow a hundred and eighty drops of laudanum, without relief, in a case of ordinary cholic. When the like happens, the doses are repeated till the pain ceases, or the patient can bear no more. However, opium is a dangerous drug, and our excellent physicians, (may Heaven preserve them!) did wisely in prescribing but fifty drops of laudanum, as a general rule. After all, no person of regular habits has much cause for alarm. Steel and gunpowder destroyed more lives in the battle of Bridge- water, than the cholera has done in the city of Europe, where its rava- ges were greatest, the number of persons exposed in each case being considered. Few men quail at the prospect of a battlewhy should they fear the cholera more? X. NEW-YORK. MEN confound truth by comparing dissimilar things, between which there can be no comparison. Who can settle the relative station of Galileo and Dante? both, perhaps, equally great, but so unlike each other, that Plutarch himself could never have forced them into a par- allel. Thus men err in comparing the metropolis of New-England and that of New-York, and in undervaluing one because it has no re- semblance to the other. They are as little alike as Pluellens Mon- mouth, and Macedon. New-York is the only cosmopolitan city in the country; all the rest are peculiar, or have some local mark. It is a collection of all nations, and the natives have formed their character upon a broad scale. Let a traveler be carried blindfolded to Mexico, Naples, or Seville, and when the bandage is removed, he can tell at a glance, where he is. Not so can he at New-York. He would see that he is in a great commer- cial mart; but whether it is Liverpool, Hamburg, or Marseilles, he could not tell from any local characteristics of the people. Every thing, directly or remotely connected with New-York, is on a scale of grandeur. Art has done much; but nature, more. The noble river that lays its tribute at the feet of Manhattan, is, perhaps,

R. T. T., R. New-York Original Papers 120-122

120 New- York. the order of sanctity will protect all females who belong to the church. As for the men, she cares not what becomes of them, for they have neglected her. Many children who have rich parents, and many married people who have disagreeable partners, think that the prospects of our country were never so brilliant as now. To conclude seriously, the fiend is not so insatiable as he is gener- ally supposed to be. There was, indeed, a great mortality in Quebec. The papers tell us the reason. We have it on good authority, that five thousand emigrants landed in that city in one week, destitute, and almost naked. They lodged on the bare ground, and ate little. New potato whisky was their drink, and their food, if they had any, was mean and scanty. Was it wonderful that many perished? Opiates are prescribed in all spasmodic disorders, and especially in cases of cholera. Physicians vary the doses according to the constitu- tion of the patient. I have seen a robust man swallow a hundred and eighty drops of laudanum, without relief, in a case of ordinary cholic. When the like happens, the doses are repeated till the pain ceases, or the patient can bear no more. However, opium is a dangerous drug, and our excellent physicians, (may Heaven preserve them!) did wisely in prescribing but fifty drops of laudanum, as a general rule. After all, no person of regular habits has much cause for alarm. Steel and gunpowder destroyed more lives in the battle of Bridge- water, than the cholera has done in the city of Europe, where its rava- ges were greatest, the number of persons exposed in each case being considered. Few men quail at the prospect of a battlewhy should they fear the cholera more? X. NEW-YORK. MEN confound truth by comparing dissimilar things, between which there can be no comparison. Who can settle the relative station of Galileo and Dante? both, perhaps, equally great, but so unlike each other, that Plutarch himself could never have forced them into a par- allel. Thus men err in comparing the metropolis of New-England and that of New-York, and in undervaluing one because it has no re- semblance to the other. They are as little alike as Pluellens Mon- mouth, and Macedon. New-York is the only cosmopolitan city in the country; all the rest are peculiar, or have some local mark. It is a collection of all nations, and the natives have formed their character upon a broad scale. Let a traveler be carried blindfolded to Mexico, Naples, or Seville, and when the bandage is removed, he can tell at a glance, where he is. Not so can he at New-York. He would see that he is in a great commer- cial mart; but whether it is Liverpool, Hamburg, or Marseilles, he could not tell from any local characteristics of the people. Every thing, directly or remotely connected with New-York, is on a scale of grandeur. Art has done much; but nature, more. The noble river that lays its tribute at the feet of Manhattan, is, perhaps, New- York. 121 unrivaled on the earth. The Mississippi rolls, to a far greater distance, a deep current of turbid waters, hardly restrained within low and uncul- tivated banks: the Rhine, the great highway of nations, has its cities, vineyards, and castled craggs: the Nile sheds fertility over barren lands, and renders fruitful that, which, without it, would not be habitable; but none of these streams, each of which has been called the Father of Waters, can show, upon its banks or on its surface, such lively or wild assemblages of busy towns, cultivated fields, countless fleets, cliffs and mountains, as are forever impressed upon the memory of the trav- eler, when he first beholds the River Hudson. All these are but a step from the crowded streets of the city. A little hour carries one far up this immense conduit, and every minute offers changes to the eye as splendid as those of the Kaleidoscope. Broadway is the full tide of human existence ; but when the din of the streets and the glare of the sun become oppressive to the senses, in five minutes the citizen may be extended under the rural shades of Hoboken, looking from a safe distance at the Great Babel, and listening to the softened roar she pours through all her gates. At Boston there are no such retreats, within an accessible distance or expense, for frequent relaxation. At New-York there are to be seen, daily, individuals,, family parties, and troops of friends, crowding the decks of the steam-boats that con- nect the country with the city. Who ever went to Hoboken without being pleasingly moved at the sight of mothers and their little offspring, family groups, that in every direction, enliven that most charming spot ? The banks of the river for t~vo or three miles, on the declivity, are shaded with trees, and cut into graveled walks, while the river, the glancing vessels, and the city, are seen under the branches. Every point on the North river is, in the present state of steam-navigation, in the vicinity of New-York; and link after link, of natural or artifi- cial water carriage, connects the great city with the lakes, and the rivers of the West and North. The increase of the city is in propor- tion to the facilities of distant communication. The policy of the state is liberal ; and those who are guilty of poverty, and punished by laws in other states, may go to New-York, reform, and labor honestly without the fear of a dungeon. Poverty in New-York subjects a man neither to the prison nor the pillory. If the legislators consider it a crime, they believe that it car- ries its own punishment, and the penalty of the laws is inflicted only on violence and fraud. New-York has, in one thing, unfortunately, departed from the fash- ions of its Dutch ancestry ; neatness, which was carried to excess in the early settlements, is not now an attribute of the city. There is, indeed, but one nuisance; but this is so general and annoying, that it seems to include every other. It was the complaint of an unsophisti- cated son of Erin,, when pushed into the gutter of a paved street, by a porker of thirty stone, that the hogs were loose and the stones tied ; and the first part of the complaint, though from so humble a source, is worthy the attention of the corporation! It is averred, by the owners of the swine, that a hog is your only scavenger; and that he devours, readily, all vegetable or animal matter that is undergoing the process of putrefaction. But this is only a commutation of nuis- ance. If a person is satisfied with evidence so little philosophical as von. iii. 16 The Phantom Ship. that of his senses, let him walk near the gutters in New-York, and he will detect the recent presence of swine, though i~ione are in sight. He can, by no effort of imagination, fancy himself in Arabia Felix; nor could he form the wish of Catullus, to be all nose. The air is filled with particles, that tend to generate disease. If the reader supposes that the effluvia from a vast piggery are either agreeable or wholesome, let him visit some corrupted sink of this kind near Boston. In New-York, the evil principle is more diluted, for the swine are not collected in dense bodies; but still it exists to the danger of health and the confu- sion of taste. This, and the innumerable signs promising mint ju- lep, are the chief of the objectionable peculiarities that attract the notice of a stranger in New-York. The street vehicles are of all descriptions. Some are designed to transport bodies of men to and from the remote parts of the city to Wall-street, and other places of business; and they are constantly in motion. They are long coaches of various fashions, with two seats running lengthwise, so that the two rows of passengers sit facing each other. The passengers may be counted by scores. The entrance is behind, and the steps are immovable; but passengers frequently enter and quit while the vehicle is in motion. It is not for a passing stranger, leaving a quiet home for a few days to encounter the hurry of a large commercial city, properly to describe or estimate New-York. He can but seize a few points in the general description. One thing is certain; that while visiters may sometimes be dissatisfied with New-York, residents from the most beautiful cities of the earth, from Florence, Naples, Cadiz, & c. universally prefer it to all other cities. R. T. THE PHANTOM SHIP. ON a fine September morning, as the sun threw his first beams above the distant ocean, and a few straggling gleams of light began to play among the dark woods that clothe the banks of the Merrimac, we embarked upon the river and set sail down the stream. Fresh was the mountain breeze that filled the sails of our gallant bark; fresh was the clear wave that dashed around her prow; fresh were the odors wafted from the verdant banks; but fresher than all were the spirits of our jocund crew, consisting of some three dozen right rustical souls, male and femaleI beg their pardongentlemen and ladies. In a word, this was the singing choir of the first parish of our little village, bound upon the yearly watering frolic to Plum-Island. There were the pink and flower of the village, no small part of its gentility, and oddities enow to make up an assortment. There were Angelina and Ethelinda, and Thankful and Silence; there were Dandy Dumbleton and Clod- hopping Bill; there were Simon Spindle in silk inexpressibles, and Belshazzar Barleycorn with his pigtail queue. Every Jack had his Jill, and every rank and condition in the great world of our little town had its representative in the party. Tom Taifrail, a sturdy tar, who had faced the hurricanes of the West-Indies, was elected skipper;

K. K. The Phantom Ship Original Papers 122-128

The Phantom Ship. that of his senses, let him walk near the gutters in New-York, and he will detect the recent presence of swine, though i~ione are in sight. He can, by no effort of imagination, fancy himself in Arabia Felix; nor could he form the wish of Catullus, to be all nose. The air is filled with particles, that tend to generate disease. If the reader supposes that the effluvia from a vast piggery are either agreeable or wholesome, let him visit some corrupted sink of this kind near Boston. In New-York, the evil principle is more diluted, for the swine are not collected in dense bodies; but still it exists to the danger of health and the confu- sion of taste. This, and the innumerable signs promising mint ju- lep, are the chief of the objectionable peculiarities that attract the notice of a stranger in New-York. The street vehicles are of all descriptions. Some are designed to transport bodies of men to and from the remote parts of the city to Wall-street, and other places of business; and they are constantly in motion. They are long coaches of various fashions, with two seats running lengthwise, so that the two rows of passengers sit facing each other. The passengers may be counted by scores. The entrance is behind, and the steps are immovable; but passengers frequently enter and quit while the vehicle is in motion. It is not for a passing stranger, leaving a quiet home for a few days to encounter the hurry of a large commercial city, properly to describe or estimate New-York. He can but seize a few points in the general description. One thing is certain; that while visiters may sometimes be dissatisfied with New-York, residents from the most beautiful cities of the earth, from Florence, Naples, Cadiz, & c. universally prefer it to all other cities. R. T. THE PHANTOM SHIP. ON a fine September morning, as the sun threw his first beams above the distant ocean, and a few straggling gleams of light began to play among the dark woods that clothe the banks of the Merrimac, we embarked upon the river and set sail down the stream. Fresh was the mountain breeze that filled the sails of our gallant bark; fresh was the clear wave that dashed around her prow; fresh were the odors wafted from the verdant banks; but fresher than all were the spirits of our jocund crew, consisting of some three dozen right rustical souls, male and femaleI beg their pardongentlemen and ladies. In a word, this was the singing choir of the first parish of our little village, bound upon the yearly watering frolic to Plum-Island. There were the pink and flower of the village, no small part of its gentility, and oddities enow to make up an assortment. There were Angelina and Ethelinda, and Thankful and Silence; there were Dandy Dumbleton and Clod- hopping Bill; there were Simon Spindle in silk inexpressibles, and Belshazzar Barleycorn with his pigtail queue. Every Jack had his Jill, and every rank and condition in the great world of our little town had its representative in the party. Tom Taifrail, a sturdy tar, who had faced the hurricanes of the West-Indies, was elected skipper; The Phantom Ship. 123 Giles Elderberry scraped away upon his ancient three-stringcd fiddle, and gave us The tongs and the bones, and The shoe-slapping jig, in fine fashion; while Deacon Doolittle stationed himself in the stern- sheets and shook his ghostly noddle, at proper intervals, to keep the young folks in sobriety. The rapid wave and fresh breeze set us down the stream in noble style, and the voyage, though short, was crowded with adventures. The Deacon lost his leather spectacles overboard by a flap of the main-sail; Dorothy Dobbins was frightened into hysterics by a big sturgeon that jumped out of water close under our stern; and Belshaz- zar Barleycorn shipped a sea down his throat as he lay upon the fore cuddy with his mouth open. These disasters might have appalled some people; but we reflected upon the hazards of those who go down into the sea, and do business upon the mighty waters; so we met all mishaps with fortitude, and kept up stout hearts. Old Powow Hill was soon left behind us, and as the wreaths of mist upon its sides were curling into the sky before the slant sunbeams) we almost fancied we beheld the breaking up of the ancient nocturnal orgies, and troops of phantoms, streaming away in Indian file, into thin air. Soon the spires of Newburyport rose on our right; we opened the wide expanse at the mouth of the stream; Plum-Island rose upon the view, showing a long line of white sandy hummocks, patched with green, and the blue ocean and the heights of Cape Ann in the distance. We steered down the sound, between the island and the main land for some half dozen miles, landed, and pitched our tents among the sand-hills. Need I relate how jovially we passed the day; how we strolled over the island, gathered beach plums, and junketed upon the heaps of good things which had been baked, boiled, stewed and roasted for this eventful day! how we slaughtered regiments of wild fowl upon the marshes along the sound, or wooed the fresh breeze and the spark- ling surf on the sea shore! Suffice it to say, the day was glorious and the company jovial; we were bustling, blowzed and boisterous to the full measure of our wishes; and the festivities of the occasion, as the newspapers say, went off with great hilarity and good feeling. As the sun began to roll down the clear sky, and we had already made preparations for re-embarking, the wind fell into a calm. Soon the sinking orb was obscured by a pile of thick, blue clouds, which rose fast up the western heaven; the hot air, stagnant and oppressive, admonished us of an approaching thunder shower. Our tents, which had been struck, were speedily pitched again in a deep hollow between two steep ridges of the sand. Fold after fold of the black mass of clouds pushed rapidly over our heads as we scrambled under the shel- ter. A flash of lightning now broke from its dark bosom; the broken rumbling of the far-off thunder was heard, and two or three scattering drops of rain fell. Another flash streamed over us, and a stunning peal immediately followed. The whole heaven was suddenly over- shadowed, and the waters came dashing down in a torrent. Ere the fury of the tempest was spent, night had come on; and we remained snugly housed under our canvas, with the intention of remaining till the next day. In the midst of the pastimes, which we had contrived to beguile the hours, we were suddenly struck with the strange deportment of Skipper Tom, and his crony, Dick halyard, 124 The Phantom k~hip. ~vho sat peeping out of the tent, shaking their heads, and whispering in a very mysterious fashion. Smite my timbers, said Tom, counting on his fingers, but this is the very daythe twenty-second of September. Sure enough it is, said Dick, stretching his head out, and fixing his eyes intently toward the sea; standing in straight to the land with all sail set. They say she is never seen but once in fifty years, and always on the same day of the month. Not as you knows on, replied Dick. Seven years this blessed day, the Charming Nancy, bound in from the West-Indies, fell in with her just as she had weathered Cape Ann. They luffed up and run right athwart her hawse; but before you could say Jack Rob- inson, a white squall sent them high and dry on the Isle of Shoals! But she s out of sight now; gone to Davys locker; nothere she looms up again, with all kites out. Halloo, Skipper Tom 1 cried one of the company, what sail is that you spy ? A queerish sort of craft, returned he, with a mysterious cock of the eye, and thrusting an enormous quid of tobacco into his cheek, hails from Cape Flyaway. Taunt rigged, and with a light set of ballast, added Dick, cocking his eye ditto. Here we crowded to the door of the tent, and looked out, but could see nothing; dark clouds hung over the sea, and the rain poured heavily. How was it possible, we asked, to espy a sail at sea in such a night as this. Tis the Phantom Ship, said Tom. At this moment a flash of fire was seen far in the offing, and the peal of a cannon came booming over the waves. Hark! she is firing for a pilot. By the light of the flash, we discerned at a distance, what seemed to be the white sails of a ship, steering directly towards us. The next instant all was dark again. The Phantom Ship ! exclaimed every one, the Phantom Ship ! Here we called to memory the old tradition of the pirates, who were known to have resorted to this island, and buried their treasures among the sand. Their ghosts had ever since haunted the shore, and had been seen by too many credible persons to leave a 4ioubt as to the truth of the story. And once every fifty years, said Tom, reciting the whole tale, or some say every seven years; howsomever, that s neither here nor there; but just on the twenty-second of September, the pirate ship heaves in sight, with all sail set, and makes signal for a pilot. Jack Weatherbrain once put off in his cock-boat to go aboard, thinking it a West-Indiaman. And what became of him ~ asked a dozen voices at once. What became of him ! reiterated Tom, why, the more he made sail, the more he could nt overhaul her; and finally she never hove to, but plumped ashore on the beach and went out of sight over Old Town Hill. Not as I heard the story, interrupted Dick; she always steers a regular course over the beach to Dead Mans Hollow, and there The Phantom Ship. 125 vanishes. Every body knows that is the spot where the pirates buried their money. That s a fact, said an old woman of the party; for old Squire Grip-hard once followed the ship over the island, and discovered the very spot. He came within a hairs breadth of finding all the money. How happened it ? asked the Deacon; why did nt he go straight to work and dig for it ? That s exactly what he did, returned she; but just at the moment when he heard the guineas clinking under his feet, a great lubber of a sea-gull made a stoop at him and flew off with his wig; another one let fall a monstrous clam souse upon his bald pate. It set his intellectuals into such a tympany that he could not tell north from south; and so, running after his wig, he lost his way, and did not re- cover his wits till he found himself up to the chin in water. In fact, he has been sort of crack-skulled ever since.~~ Could nt a body find the place by daylight ? asked the Deacon, earnestly, and thrusting his hands into his pockets. That is what many a man has tried, answered Tom; but a wild goose chase they have had of it. One might as well look for a needle in a bottle of hay. Look out! here she comes By this time we could discern the tall form of the Phantom Ship, gliding with a stately and ghostlike motion directly in upon the shore. The angry surf roared along the beach and threw dim flashes of phos- phoric light before her path as she drew near the land; but not a sail shivered in the wind, nor the least did she deviate from her direct course. Between the wailing gusts of the storm we could hear the following strain, chanted in full chorus by the crew Bear away bear away, boys And trim the broad sail; The white waves are dashing, All fresh in the gale. With Lull swelling canvas Bedeck every spar; For the homeward-bound fleet Calls the pirate afar. Hillio ! hillio ! hilijo Let the blue forked lightning Still wide round us burn; Let the blast and the billow Sill thunder astern. Cut swifter the billow; Dash higher the spray; On the wings of the gale Over sea bear away! Elilli ! hillio ! hillio The Deacon strained his eyes after the Phantom Ship, as she moved over the sand-hills; scratched his head, fumbled in his pockets, and fidgeted about in a most uneasy manner. Presently catching a sly chance, he nuzzled closely to Toms ear and whispered, T would be a capital thing, I m thinking, Tom, if you and I could light upon the money. Suppose we slip out slily and give chase ? Not I, said Tom, shaking his head most decisively, d ye take me for a green-horn ? 126 The Phantom Ship. We shall never have such a chance again, said the Deacon, lay- ing down the law with two fingers of his right hand into the palm of his left. So much the better, replied Tom. Look ye Deacon, cocking his tarpawling on one side of his head, I m too much of an old fowl to cruise among quicksands, and get brought up by a twist of Beelze- bubs cable. Then you wont try, and go snacks with me ? asked the Deacon, growing restless, and casting another longing, lingering look after the white sails that began to grow indistinct in the distance. That s twice you ye said it, was Toms expressive answer. Then I 11 have it all to myself, rejoined the Deacon. It is really too good a chance for a prudent man to lose. If I can only dig up a single bag of guineas, continued he, in a hurried manner, as he buttoned up his coat and flapped the broad brim of his hat over his eyes, I shall be able to buy the Majors farm,a great bargain. Tom, say nothing about it ! So, watching his opportunity, he crept unperceived through a side opening, and disappeared. Tom gave an expressive hunch of the shoulders, and whistled Go to the d and shake yourselg to take off the attention of the company. It blew and rained hard all the night; and when day rose upon us, the storm had not in the least abated. Great was the consternation of the whole company to find the Deacon missing. Nobody could imag- ine whither he bad gone, and Tom was as close as an oyster. Hour after hour passed away, and he did not return. The storm, instead of subsiding, came on heavier and faster. Towards night, the alarm for his fate had increased to such a pitch, that in spite of the tempest, we set out to scour the island in search of him. For a long time we marched hither and thither, hallooing and firing our guns; but no trace of him could w~ discover. At length, just as night began to close around us, and we were about to give up the pursuit, a faint halloo struck our ears; we fol- lowed the sound, as it was repeated at intervals, between the blasts of the tempest. The voice grew nearer and nearer, and presently seemed close at hand; but no soul could be seen. We gazed round in utter amazement, and at last discovered, in the spot from which the sound proceeded, something like a mans head lying upon the ground. We were struck speechless with terror, and no one dared to approach it. In a few moments the head began to move, and cried out, Halloo! here I am! This was uttered in a most hollow and unearthly tone; but it was somewhat like the Deacons voice, and we plucked up courage and made towards it. Mercy on us! it was indeed the Deacon himself; alive, but not kicking; for he was buried up to the chin in sand. We pulled him out by the shoulders, as the four winds had helped them- selves to his wig. My conscience! Deacon, how came you here ? was every ones interrogation. I ye found it! 1 ye found the place! I ye found the money ! returned the Deacon, puffing for breath, and sputtering the sand out of his mouth. Found the money! where is it ? we all asked. The Phantom Ship. 127 Here! underneath this very spot. I followed the ship all over the island, and here she went out of sight. I dug down till I could feel the guineas under my feet. And so not to lose the place, I sat me down on the spot to wait till the storm was over; the sand blew about me, and almost buried me up as you see; but the money is here safe; I claim to be the sole possessor, for making the discovery. Ay, but Deacon, said Tom, arnt we entitled to a salvage for picking you up? Im thinking that one half belongs to us. This suggestion was a thunder-stroke for the Deacon, as all the coin- pany insisted that the claim was just. As sure as a gun, said Dick, you would have foundered in two hours if we had nt took you in tow. The Deacon now began to wax angry; the thought of losing half the treasure was too much for him. A violent altercation was on the point of bursting forth, when Tom Taifrail put on a grave face, set his arms akimbo, gave a mysterious shake of the head, and observed, Had nt we better count the money before we quarrel about it ? All agreed that this would be the most advisable course. So we set to work and scratched away the sand, the Deacon being head pioneer. Hark ! exclaimed he, in a transport of joy; hear the guineas rattle ! In truth, we heard a sharp clinking after getting six or eight feet under the surface. In fifteen minutes the whole treasure lay ex- posed. There were three bushels of clam-shells, the fragments of an earthen pot, and the jaw-bone of an Indian! With what sort of a face the Deacon saw his golden dreams vanish, and how he stood the jokes of Tom Taifrail, on the voyage homeward, about purchasing the Majors farm, I have not time to relate. Un- lucky wight! his misfortunes did not end here. On arriving home, he learned that his new piggery had been struck and demolished by the lightning, and his famous Byfield grunter, that was to carry off the premium at the next Brighton cattle-show, had run mad into the woods, and was never heard of afterwards. Such is the tale of the Phantom Ship and Deacon Doolittles money- hunting. The facts are known to many veracious persons besides myself, although the stories differ as to particulars; and skeptics in the matter are not wanting. Still, the tall sails of the pirate are seen from time to time in the equinoxial gales, gliding majestically toward the well-known shore. It is a sight, indeed, that every body has not had the luck to see; yet, the testimony on this point is so abundant, that a reasonable man can no more doubt of the Phantom Ship than he can of the Sea-Serpent. K. 158 LIFE BEYOND THE FRONTIER. [See page 33.] FOR a short time after the execution of Toopunkah Zeze and his accomplice the Indian country remained quiet. The Dahcotahs avoi~led all intercourse with the whites. They were angry at the death of their fellows, indeed, and spoke of vengeance among themselves; but they either were convinced of the justice of what had been done, or knew the superior force of the whites too well to think of taking any active measures. However, they resolved to make cats paws of the Winnebagoes, who were, and are, of a much more decided character than them- selves. This tribe, as their traditions say, were driven from Mexico by the com- panions of Cortez, or their successors. The tradition is probably correct in point of fact; for they state that they resisted all attempts to expel them from their native land till the white invaders hunted them with dogs of uncommon size and ferocity; probably, these were the bloodhounds since employed to subdue the Ma- roons in Jamaica. The Dahcotahs have a similar tradition. Be that as it may, the Winnebagoes retained an inveterate antipathy to the Mexican Spaniards, till very lately. They have now transferred it to the people of the United States. Some old men among them yet remember the excursions they were wont to make in their youth to the borders of Mexico, whence they brought horses, captives, & c. These people have more courage and more national character than any tribe of the north- west. Drunkenness is not so common among them as among other tribes, and they are not so fond of mixing blood with the whites. There are very few Winnebago half-breeds. A good many of them joined the confederacy of Tecumseh, and sixty of their best and bravest warriors were killed at Tippecanoe. Several years since, when the fifth United States regiment of infantry ascended the Mississippi, they halted at Prairie du Chien, where they were visited by a great many Winnebagoes. An aged warrior accosted Captain Gooding, as he landed on the beach, and offered him his hand. I think, said the Winnebago, that I could tell what ails your neck, that you should have such a great scar upon it. Probably you could, replied the Captain, you may have reason to know that there is a Winnebago bullet in my flesh. Ay, returned the savage, and I could tell you who put it in. But you are a brave man,and we are all friends now. Apparently the old man considered this reminiscence an excellent jest; for he laughed heartily. No tribe consider revenge a more sacred duty than do the Winnebagoes. It was their ancient custom to take five lives for one, and it is notorious on the frontier, that no blood of theirs has been shed, even in modern days, that has not been fully avenged. They used, too, to wear some part of the body of a slain enemy about them as a testimonial of prowess. We well remember a grim Win- nebago, who was wont to present himself before the whites, who passed the por- tage of the Fox and Wisconsin rivers, with a human hand hanging on his breast. He had taken it from a Yankee soldier at Tippecanoc. it was not difficult to stir up such a people to hostility, and, moreover, circum- stances favored the design of the Dahcotahs. There is, or was, a village of Winnebagoes on the Black river, not far from the Dahcotah town, of which Wawpah-ha-Shah is chief. The two tribes are descended from the same stock, as their languages abundantly prove, and the claims of common origin have been strengthened by frequent interinarriages. Now it happened, that, at the time when Toopunkah Zeze was put to death at Fort Snelling, the Red Bird was absent from his Winnebago village, on an expedition against the Chippewas. He returned unsuccessful, and consequently, sullen and malecontent. Till this time, he had been noted among his tribe for his friendly disposition toward the men with hats, as Indians call the whites, and among the traders, for his scrupulous honesty. However, this man, from whom no white person beyond the frontier would have anticipated injury, was easily induced to commit a bloody and unprovoked outrage. Certain Dahcotah ambassadors arrived at the Red Birds village, with a lie in their mouths. You have become a by-word of reproach among us, said they. You have just given the Chippeways reason to laugh at you, and the Big Knives also laugh at you. Lo while they were among you, they dared not offend you, but now they have caused Wamandoosgarra-Ha and his companion to be put to death, and they have cut their bodies into pieces not bigger than the

Life beyond the Frontier Original Papers 128-133

158 LIFE BEYOND THE FRONTIER. [See page 33.] FOR a short time after the execution of Toopunkah Zeze and his accomplice the Indian country remained quiet. The Dahcotahs avoi~led all intercourse with the whites. They were angry at the death of their fellows, indeed, and spoke of vengeance among themselves; but they either were convinced of the justice of what had been done, or knew the superior force of the whites too well to think of taking any active measures. However, they resolved to make cats paws of the Winnebagoes, who were, and are, of a much more decided character than them- selves. This tribe, as their traditions say, were driven from Mexico by the com- panions of Cortez, or their successors. The tradition is probably correct in point of fact; for they state that they resisted all attempts to expel them from their native land till the white invaders hunted them with dogs of uncommon size and ferocity; probably, these were the bloodhounds since employed to subdue the Ma- roons in Jamaica. The Dahcotahs have a similar tradition. Be that as it may, the Winnebagoes retained an inveterate antipathy to the Mexican Spaniards, till very lately. They have now transferred it to the people of the United States. Some old men among them yet remember the excursions they were wont to make in their youth to the borders of Mexico, whence they brought horses, captives, & c. These people have more courage and more national character than any tribe of the north- west. Drunkenness is not so common among them as among other tribes, and they are not so fond of mixing blood with the whites. There are very few Winnebago half-breeds. A good many of them joined the confederacy of Tecumseh, and sixty of their best and bravest warriors were killed at Tippecanoe. Several years since, when the fifth United States regiment of infantry ascended the Mississippi, they halted at Prairie du Chien, where they were visited by a great many Winnebagoes. An aged warrior accosted Captain Gooding, as he landed on the beach, and offered him his hand. I think, said the Winnebago, that I could tell what ails your neck, that you should have such a great scar upon it. Probably you could, replied the Captain, you may have reason to know that there is a Winnebago bullet in my flesh. Ay, returned the savage, and I could tell you who put it in. But you are a brave man,and we are all friends now. Apparently the old man considered this reminiscence an excellent jest; for he laughed heartily. No tribe consider revenge a more sacred duty than do the Winnebagoes. It was their ancient custom to take five lives for one, and it is notorious on the frontier, that no blood of theirs has been shed, even in modern days, that has not been fully avenged. They used, too, to wear some part of the body of a slain enemy about them as a testimonial of prowess. We well remember a grim Win- nebago, who was wont to present himself before the whites, who passed the por- tage of the Fox and Wisconsin rivers, with a human hand hanging on his breast. He had taken it from a Yankee soldier at Tippecanoc. it was not difficult to stir up such a people to hostility, and, moreover, circum- stances favored the design of the Dahcotahs. There is, or was, a village of Winnebagoes on the Black river, not far from the Dahcotah town, of which Wawpah-ha-Shah is chief. The two tribes are descended from the same stock, as their languages abundantly prove, and the claims of common origin have been strengthened by frequent interinarriages. Now it happened, that, at the time when Toopunkah Zeze was put to death at Fort Snelling, the Red Bird was absent from his Winnebago village, on an expedition against the Chippewas. He returned unsuccessful, and consequently, sullen and malecontent. Till this time, he had been noted among his tribe for his friendly disposition toward the men with hats, as Indians call the whites, and among the traders, for his scrupulous honesty. However, this man, from whom no white person beyond the frontier would have anticipated injury, was easily induced to commit a bloody and unprovoked outrage. Certain Dahcotah ambassadors arrived at the Red Birds village, with a lie in their mouths. You have become a by-word of reproach among us, said they. You have just given the Chippeways reason to laugh at you, and the Big Knives also laugh at you. Lo while they were among you, they dared not offend you, but now they have caused Wamandoosgarra-Ha and his companion to be put to death, and they have cut their bodies into pieces not bigger than the Life beyond the Frontier. ~pots in a bead garter. The tale was believed, and a cry for vengeance arose throu bout the village. It was decided that something must be done, and the Dahcotah envoys promised to lend a helpin~ hand. A few days before, two keel-boats had ascended the river, laden with provisions for the troops at Fort Snelling. They passed the mouth of Black river with a full sheet, so that a few Winnebagoes, who were there encamped, had some diffi- culty in reaching them with their canoes. They might have taken both boats, for there were but three firelocks on board; nevertheless, they offered no injury. They sold fish and venison to the boatmen, on amicable terms, and suffered them to pursue their journey unmolested. We mention this trifling circumstance, merely because it was afterwards reported in the St. Louis papers, that the crews of the boats had abused these Winnebagoes shamefully, which assuredly was not the case. The wind died away before the boats reached the villa e of Wapaha.Sha, which is situated on the right bank of the Mississippi, twelve or fifteen miles above the mouth of Black river. Here the Dahcotahs peremptorily commanded them to put ashore, which they did. No reason was assigned for the order. Up- wards of five hundred warriors immediately crowded on board. A passenrer, who was well acquainted with the Dahcotahs, observed that they brought no women with them, as was usual; that they were painted black (which signifies either grief or hostility;) that they refused to shake hands with the boatmen, and that their speech was brief and sullen. He instantly communicated his observations to Mr. Lindsay, who commanded the boats, and advised him to push on, before the savages should have discovered that the party were wholly unarmed. Lind- say, a bold-hearted Kentuckian, assumed the tone of command, and peremptorily ordered the Dahcotahs ashore. They, probably, thought that big words would be seco ded with hard blows, and complied. The boats pushed on. Several Indians pursued them along the shore for several miles, with speech of taunt and defi- ance; but they offered no farther molestation. The Dahcotah villages higher up showed much ill will, but no disposition, or rather no courage, to attack. Altogether, appearances were so tlireatenin ~, that on his arrival at Fort Snelling, Mr. Lindsay communicated what he had seen to the commanding officer, and asked that his crew should he furnished with arms and ammunition. The request was granted; his thirty-two men were provided with thirty-two muskets, and a barrel of hall-cartridges. Thus secured against attack, the boats commenced the descent of the river. In the mean while, the Red Bird had cogitated upon what he had heard, every tittle of which he believed, and had come to the conclusion that the honor of his race required the blood of two Americans at least. He therefore got into his canoe with Wekaw, or The Sun, and two others, and paddled to Prairie du Chien. XVhen he got there, he waited upon Mr. Boilevin in the most friendly manner, and begged to be regarded as one of the staunchest friends of the Americans. The venerable agent admitted his claims, but absolutely refused to give him any whisky. The Winnebago chief then applied to a trader in the town, who, rely- ing on his general good character, did not hesitate to furnish him with an eight gallon keg of spirits, the value of which was to be paid, in furs, in the suc- ceeding autumn. There was an old colored woman in the village, whose five sons had never heard that they were inferior beings, either from the Indians or the Canadian French. Therefore, having never considered themselves degraded, they were not degraded. On the contrary, they ranked with the most respectable inhabit- ants of the place. We knew them well. One of them was the village black- smith; the others were substantial farmers. Their father was a Frenchman, and their nanie was Gagnier. One of these men owned a farm three miles from Prairie du Chien, where he lived with his wife, (a white woman) two children, and a hired man named Liepcap. Thither the Red Bird repaired with his three companions, sure of a fair reception; for Regis Gagnier had always been noted for his humanity to the poor, especially the Indians. Regis Gagnier invited his savage visiters to enter, hung the kettle over the fire, gave them to eat, and smoked the pipe of peace with them. The Red Bird was the last man on earth whom he would have feared; for they were well acquainted with each other, and bad reciprocated good offices. The Indians remained several bours under Gagniers hospitable roof. At last, when the VOL. in. 17 130 Life beyond the Frontier. farmer least expected it, the Winnebago chief leveled his gun and shot him down dead on his own hearth-stone. Liepcap was slain at the same instant by Wekaw. Madame Gagnier turned to fly with her infant (of eighteen months.) As she was about to leap through the window, the child was torn from her arms by Wekaw, stabbed, scalped, and thrown violently on the floor, as dead. The murderer then attacked the woman ; but gave way when she snatched up a gun that was leaning against the wall, and presented it to his breast. She then effected her escape. Her eldest son, a boy of ten years, also shunned the murderers, and they both arrived in the village at about the same time. The alarm was soon given; but when the avengers of blood arrived at poor Regis Gagniers house, they found in it nothing living but his mangled infant. It was carried to the village, and, strange as it may seem, recovered. The Red Bird and his companions immediately proceeded from the scene of their crime to the rendezvous of their band. During their absence, thirty-seven of the warriors, who acknowledged the authority ef the Red Bird, had assembled, with their wives and children, near the month of Bad Axe river. They received the murderers with exceeding great joy, and loud approbation of their exploit. The keg of liquor was immediately set abroach, the red men began to drink, and, as their spirits rose, to boast of what they had already done and intended to do. Two days did tbey continue to revel; and, on the third, the source of their excitement gave out. They were, at about four in the afternoon, dissipating the last fumes of their excitement in the scalp dance, when they descried one of the keel-boats before mentioned, approaching. Forthwith, a proposal to take her and massacre the crew, was made and carried by acclamation. They counted upon doing this witbont risk; for they had examined her on her way up, and supposed that there were no arms on board. Mr. Lindsays boats had descended the river together as far as the village of Wapaha-Sha, where they expected an attack. The Dahcotahs on shore were dancing the war dance, and hailed their approach with insults and menaces; but did not, nevertheless, offer to obstruct their passage. The whites now supposed the dancer over, and a strong wind at that moment beginning to blow up stream, the boats parted company. That which sat deepest in the water had the advan- tage of the under current, and, of course, gained several miles in advance of the other. So strong was the wind, that all the force of sweeps could scarcely stem it, and, by the time the foremost boat was near the encampment, at the mouth of the Bad Axe, the crew were very willing to stop and rest. One or two Frenchmen, or half-breeds, who were on board, observed the hostile appearances on shore, and advised the rest to keep the middle of the stream ; but their counsel was disregarded. Most of the crew were Americans, who, as is usual with our countrymen, combined a profound ignorance of Indian character with a thorough contempt for Indian prowess. They urged the boat directly toward the camp, with all the force of the sweeps. There were sixteen men on deck. It may be well to observe here, that this, like all keel-boats used in the Mississippi valley, was built almost exactly on the model of the Erie and Middlesex canal-boats. The men were rallying their French companions on their apprehensions, and the boat was within thirty yards of the shore, when suddenly, the trees and rocks ran~ with the blood-chilling, ear-piercing tones of the war-whoop, and a volley of rifle-balls rained upon the deck. Happily, the Winnebagoes had not yet recovered from the effects of their debauch, and their arms were not steady. One man only fell by their fire. He was a little negro, named Peter. His leg was dread- fully shattered, and he afterwards died of the wound. The rest immediately made the best of their waybelow. Then Peter began to curse and to swear, dg his fellows for leaving him to be shot at like a Christmas turkey ; but finding that his reproaches had none effect, he also managed to drag himself below. All this passed in as little time as it will take to read this paragraph. Presently, a voice hailed the boat, in the Saque tongue, demanding to know if the crew were English. A half-breed Saque, named Beauchamp, answered ma the affirmative. Then, said the querist, come on shore, and we will do you no harm, for we are your brethren, the Saques. Dog, replied Beanchamp, no Saques would attack us thus cowardly. If you want us on shore, you must come and fetch us. With that, a second volley came from the shore; but as the men were now lying prone in the bottom of the boat, below the water line, they all escaped, but one. One man, an American, named Stewart, fell. He Imad risen to return the first fire, and the muzzle of his musket protruding through a loop-hole, showed Life beyond the Frontier. 131 some Winnebago where to aim. The bullet struck him under the left arm, and passed directly through his heart. He fell dead, with his finger on the trigger of his undischarged gun. It was a hot day, and before the fight was over, the scent of the gunpowder could not overpower the stench of the red puddle around him. The Winnebagoes, encouraged by the non-resistance, now rushed to their canoes, with intent to board. One venerable old man endeavored to dissuade them. He laid hold on one of the canoes, and would, perhaps, have succeeded in retaining it; but in the heat of his argument, a ball from the boat hit him on the middle finger of the peace-making hand. Very naturally enraged at such unkind treatment from his friends, he loosed the canoe, hurried to his wigwam for his gun, and took an active part in the remainder of the action. In the mean while, the white men had recovered from their first panic, ~nd seized their arms. The boarders were received with a very severe discharge. In one canoe, two savages were killed with the same bullet. Their dying struggles upset the canoe, and the rest were obliged to swim on shore, where it was some time before they could restore their arms to fighting order. Several more were wounded, and those who remained unhurt, put back, satisfied that a storm was not the best mode of attack. Two, however, persevered. They were together in one canoe, and approached the boat astern, where there was no hole through which the whites could fire upon them. They soon leaped on board. One seized the long steering oar, oi rudder. The other jumped upon deck, where he halted, and discharged five muskets, which had been left there when the crew fled below, through the deck and bottom of the boat. In this manner, he wounded one man very severely. After this exploit, he hurried to the bow, where he seized a long pole, and, with the assistance of the steersman, succeeded in grounding the boat on a sand bar, and fixing her fast under the fire of his people. The two Winnebago boatmen then began to load and fire, to the no small annoyance of the crew. He, at the stern, was soon despatched. One of the whites observed his position through a crack, and gave him a mortal wound through the boards. Still, he struggled to get over- board, probably to save his scalp. But his struggles were feeble, and a second bullet terminated them before he could effect his object. After the fight was over, the man who slew him took his scalp. The bow of the boat was open, and the warrior there still kept his station, out of sight, excepting when he stooped to fire, which he did five times. His third shot broke the arm and passed through the lungs of the brave Beauchamp. At this sight, one or two began to speak of surrender. No friends, cried the dying man, you will not save your lives so. Fight to the last; for they will show no mercy. If they get the better of you, for Gods sake, throw me over- board. Do not let them get my hair. He continued to exhort them to resist- ance, as long as his breath lasted, and died with the words, fight on, on his lips. Before that time, however, his slayer had also taken his leave of life. A sailor, named Jack Mandeville, shot him through the head, and he fell overboard, carrying his gun with him. From that moment, Mandeville assumed the command of the boat. A few had resolved to take the skiff and leave the rest to their fate. They had already cast off the rope. Jack interposed, swearine that he would shoot the first and bayonet the second, who should persevere. They submitted. Two more had hidden themselves in the bow of the boat, out of sight, but not out of danger. After a while, the old tar missed them, sought them, and compelled them by threats of instant death, enforced by pricks of his bayonet, to leave their hiding-place, and take share in the business in hand. Afterwards they fought like bull-dogs. It was well for them that Mandeville acted as he did; for they had scarely risen, when a score of balls, at least, passed through the place where they had been lying. After the two or three first volleys, the fire had slackened; but it was not, therefore, the less dangerous. The Indians had the advantage of superior num- bers, and could shift their postures at pleasure. The whites were compelled to lie in the bottom of the boat, below the water-mark, for its sides were no bul- wark. Every bullet passed through and through. It was only at intervals, and very warily, that they could rise to fire; for the flash of every gun showed the position of the marksman, and was instantly followed by the reports of two or three Indian rifles. On the other band, they were not seen, and being thinly scattered over a large boat, the Winnebagoes could but guess their positions. The fire, was, therefore, slow; for none on either side, cared to waste ammunition- Thus, for upwards of three hours, the hoatmen lay in blood and bilge w. ter~ deprived of the free use of their limbs, and wholly unable to extricate them 13~ L~fe beyond the Frontier. selves. At last, as the night fell, Mandeville came to the conclusion that dark- ness would render the guns of his own party wholly useless, while it would not render the aim of the Winnebagoes a jot less certain. He, therefore, as soon as it was dark, stoutly called for assistance, and sprang into the water. Four more followed him. The halls rained round them, passing through their clothes ; hut they persisted, and the hoat was soon afloat. Seeing their prey escaping, the Winnebagoes raised a yell of mingled rage and despair, and gave the whites a farewell volley. It was returned, with three hearty cheers, and ere a gun could he re-loaded, the boat had floated out of shot. For half the night, a wailing voice, apparently that of an old man, was heard, following the boat; at a safe distance, however. It was conjectured that it was the father of him whose body the boat was hearing away. Subsequent inquiry proved this supposition to be correct. Thirty-seven Indians were engaged in this battle, seven of whom were killed and fourteen were wounded. They managed to put six hundred and ninety three balls into and through the boat. Two of the crew were killed outright, two mortally and two slightly wounded. Jack Mandevilles courage and pres- ence of mind, undoubtedly, saved the rest, as well as the boat; but we have never heard that he was rewarded in any way or shape. Mr. Lindsays boat reached the mouth of the Bad Axe about midnight. The Indians opened a fire upon her, which was promptly returned. There was a light on board, at which the first gun was probably aimed, for that ball only hit the boat. All the rest passed over harmless in the darkness. Great was the alarm at Prairie du Chien when the boats arrived there. The people left their houses and far , and crowded into the dilapidated fort. Never- theless, they showed much spirit, and speedily established a very effective disci- pline. An express was immediately sent to G lena, and another to Fort Snelling, for assistance. A company of upwards of a hundred volunteers soon arrived from Galena, and the minds of the habitants were quieted. In a few days, four imperfect companies of the fifth infantry arrived from Fort Snelling. The commanding officer ordered a march upon the Red Birds village; but as the volunteers re~used to obey, and determined to return home, he was obliged to countermand it. The consternation of the people of the lead mines was great. Full half of them fled frons the country. Shortly after, however, when General Atkinson arrived with a full regiment, a considerable body of volunteers joined him from Galena, and accompanied him to the portage of the Wisconsin, to fight with, or receive the submission of theWinnebagoes. The Red Bird there appeared, in all the paraphernalia of an Indian chief and warrior, and surrendered himself to justice, together with his cdmpanions in the murder of Gagnier, and one of his band, who had taken an active part in the attack on the boats. They were incarcerated at Prairie du Chien. A dreadful epidemic broke out there about this time, and he died in prison. He knew that his death was certain, and did not shrink from it. In the course of the year, the people of the lead mines increased in number and strength, and encroached upon the Winnebago lands. The Winnebagoes complained in vain. Next spring, the murderers of Methode, and the other Indian prison rs, were tried, convicted, and sentenced to death. A deputation of the tribe went to Washington to solicit their pardon. President Adams granted it, en the implied condition that the tribe would cede the lands, then in possession of the miners. The Winnebagoes have kept their wordthe land has been ceded, and Madame Ga,nier has been compensated for the loss of her husband, and the mutilation of her infant. We believe that she received, after waiting for justice two years, the magnificent sum of two thousand dollars! We will close this tin account of Life beyond the Frontier, with an anecdote which places the Winnebago character in a more amiable light than any thing already related. The militia of Prairie do Chien, immediately after the affair of the boats, seized the old chief Descorrie; the same who has already been men- tioned. He was told that if the Red Bird should not be given up within a cer- tain time, be was to die in his stead. This he steadfastly believed. inding that confinement injured his health, he requested to be permitted to range the country on his parole. The demand was granted. He as bidden to go whither he pleased dun the day, but at sunset ho was required to return to the fort, on pain of being conidored an old woman. He observed the condition religiously. At the first tap of the retreat, Descorrie was sure to present himself at the gate, a. d thi.~ he continued to do till General Atkinson set him at liberty. 133 SOME PASSAGES IN THE HEBDOMADARY OF AN EDITOR~ fJri inus. I could wish thou didst know us, Horace. We are a scholar, I assure thee. Hsrscc. A scholar, sir? I shall be covetous of your fair knowledge. t2rispissus. Nay, we are now turned poet, too, which is snore; and a satirist, too, which is moro than that. I write just in thy vein. I am for your odes, or your sermons, or any thing, indeed. We are a pretty stoic, too. Did you never hear any of my verses? horace. No, sir; but I am in some fear I must now. lIEN JoNssNPOETAsTEa. Tuu window of the little room I have so frequently mentioned, looked into the street. On the opposite side was the printing-office of a newspaper. Among the numerous and diversified individuals, which habitually loitered about the door, there was one which had particu- larly attracted my attention. I had noticed him repeatedly, leaning against one side of the door, apparently absorbed in meditation. His whole dress was shabby. His hat was of a shape that had been in fashion; the was nap worn off; and the body, which had once been black, was of no particular color. His coat had seen better days; it had been blue, but the whiteness which striped the back in a lorigituditial dlrection evlnced that its color was never fast enough to defy the ope- rations of those chemical agents, caloric, hydrogen and oxygen, when aided by friction and a long-continued state of being employed. Its dimensions were scant, and indicated that it would better fit a smaller body than that which it then helped to clothe. His pantaloons were made of yellow Nankin; and these, too, exhibited indications that the wearer was never measured by a tailor, in order that his limbs and the capacity of the garment should be reduced to a fashionable and com- fortable correspondence; for they illustrated a most dishonorable dis- regard to the doctrine of the everlasting fitness of things. They were much shorter than those usually worn at that period, coming but little below the calf of the leg, and barely meeting the blue-and-white coarse woollen socks which he had on his feet. In short, he could boast of nothing but a lean visage, peering out of a seam-rent suit. It was in October, and the weather was often cold, agreeably varie- gated, as is not uncommon in our New-England climate, by the changes in the wind, from the dry and piercing northwest, to the damp and shivering northeast. But whatever might be the weather, scarcely a day passed that I did not see this apparently forlorn individual en- gaged, if engagement it might be called, in his meditations, at the door. Sometimes I had seen men pass by him in their entrance or exit to or from the printing-office; hut I do not recollect that any one ever stopped to speak with or notice him, any more than if he had been one of the posts of the door. One morning, I found this man, who had so often attracted my notice, in my own office, inquiring if a journeyman was wanted. It was a fair inference that he had been bred a printer. I found, on inquiry, that he was a native of a town in the westerly part of the county of Franklinthat he served an apprenticeship with a printer in that vicinitythat he had afterwards been employed in Albany and New-York, and was now in Boston in search of employ- ment. He was apparently about thirty years of age. My inclina- tion would have prompted me to employ him, but I could not do it without creating a vacancy first, by dismissing some one from a situa- tiona mode of providing for applicants to which I never was partial. He received a negative reply to his application, with a look so full of

Some Passages in the Hebdomadary of an Editor Original Papers 133-138

133 SOME PASSAGES IN THE HEBDOMADARY OF AN EDITOR~ fJri inus. I could wish thou didst know us, Horace. We are a scholar, I assure thee. Hsrscc. A scholar, sir? I shall be covetous of your fair knowledge. t2rispissus. Nay, we are now turned poet, too, which is snore; and a satirist, too, which is moro than that. I write just in thy vein. I am for your odes, or your sermons, or any thing, indeed. We are a pretty stoic, too. Did you never hear any of my verses? horace. No, sir; but I am in some fear I must now. lIEN JoNssNPOETAsTEa. Tuu window of the little room I have so frequently mentioned, looked into the street. On the opposite side was the printing-office of a newspaper. Among the numerous and diversified individuals, which habitually loitered about the door, there was one which had particu- larly attracted my attention. I had noticed him repeatedly, leaning against one side of the door, apparently absorbed in meditation. His whole dress was shabby. His hat was of a shape that had been in fashion; the was nap worn off; and the body, which had once been black, was of no particular color. His coat had seen better days; it had been blue, but the whiteness which striped the back in a lorigituditial dlrection evlnced that its color was never fast enough to defy the ope- rations of those chemical agents, caloric, hydrogen and oxygen, when aided by friction and a long-continued state of being employed. Its dimensions were scant, and indicated that it would better fit a smaller body than that which it then helped to clothe. His pantaloons were made of yellow Nankin; and these, too, exhibited indications that the wearer was never measured by a tailor, in order that his limbs and the capacity of the garment should be reduced to a fashionable and com- fortable correspondence; for they illustrated a most dishonorable dis- regard to the doctrine of the everlasting fitness of things. They were much shorter than those usually worn at that period, coming but little below the calf of the leg, and barely meeting the blue-and-white coarse woollen socks which he had on his feet. In short, he could boast of nothing but a lean visage, peering out of a seam-rent suit. It was in October, and the weather was often cold, agreeably varie- gated, as is not uncommon in our New-England climate, by the changes in the wind, from the dry and piercing northwest, to the damp and shivering northeast. But whatever might be the weather, scarcely a day passed that I did not see this apparently forlorn individual en- gaged, if engagement it might be called, in his meditations, at the door. Sometimes I had seen men pass by him in their entrance or exit to or from the printing-office; hut I do not recollect that any one ever stopped to speak with or notice him, any more than if he had been one of the posts of the door. One morning, I found this man, who had so often attracted my notice, in my own office, inquiring if a journeyman was wanted. It was a fair inference that he had been bred a printer. I found, on inquiry, that he was a native of a town in the westerly part of the county of Franklinthat he served an apprenticeship with a printer in that vicinitythat he had afterwards been employed in Albany and New-York, and was now in Boston in search of employ- ment. He was apparently about thirty years of age. My inclina- tion would have prompted me to employ him, but I could not do it without creating a vacancy first, by dismissing some one from a situa- tiona mode of providing for applicants to which I never was partial. He received a negative reply to his application, with a look so full of 134 Some Passages in the meekness and resignation, that it went directly to my heart. It seemed to reproach me for a want of feeling, and to imply a conviction on his part that the poverty of his appearance might have had some influence in my decision. I wanted to give the fellow a dollar, and my hand was already in my pocket, in obedience to the first impulse of sym- pathy; but he had not asked almsand how could I know that he would not resent the offer as an indignity, or receive it as an unfeeling reflection? I would not, for the world, have done an act that might be understood by the forlorn object before me as a reproach upon his miserable condition. I dared not obey the instigation of nature. He lingered about the room for fifteen or twenty minutes, and I hoped he would repeat his application for employment. Had he done so, I am sure I could not have refused a second time. But I was foiled. He was either too proud or too bashful to show solicitude. He left the office, and, soon after, resumed his position at the door of my neighbor. Shortly after, one Sunday evening, as I was at home in my parlor, amusing myself and children, by singing Old Hundred or St. Martins, while one of them attempted an accompaniment on the Piano-Forte, some one gently touched the door-bell. It was a rainy evening. The wind was east, and blew so stifly, that it had stripped, that day, innu- merable trees of their frost-bitten foliage, and reminded man and beast of the pleasantness of warm and water-tight habitations. Some one gently touched the door-bell. A child answered the call, and said a gentleman at the door wanted to speak with me. I requested that-he should he introduced. He entered the room, and who should it be, but my friend in the Nankin .trowsers. The sight of him almost threw me into an ague-fit, and I more than half exclaimed, Poor Toms a-cold ! He was invited to take a seat near the fire, but modestly, or, rather, bashfully,declined. I made several attempts to converse, but without effect. A monosyllable was all that he could utter. Yet there seemed to he something pent up in his bosom, laboring to get loose. He held in his hand, what seemed to be a quire or two of paper, rolled together, and tied up in a pocket-handkerchiegnone of the cleanest, and exhibiting unerring indications of relationship to the degenerate wardrobe of the owner. At length, the strange visiter found histongue. I called, said he to ask your opinion ; and then, as if scared at the sound himself had made, there was a long pause. On what subject, sir ? said I. I want to publish a volume of poetry, and I was told you would assist me. I was advised to apply to you for advice. King Arthur was not more astounded when Tom Thumb asked, as the greatest favor, that he might sun himself in Huncamuncas eyes ; and I quoted, mentally, the ejaculation of that magnificent monarch Prodigious, vast request ! What advice, I asked, would you have of me I want you to read it, and tell me whether you think it will sell. I was told I might rely on your judgement. Who told you so, my friend ? Mr. C. I have just come from his house; he was busy, and said your judgement was better than his. Hebdomadary of an Editor. 135 He then untied his handkerchief, and placed its contents in my handa manuscript book, of not less than two quires of foolscap, stitched in a cover of brown wrapping, or Kentish cap. It was filled with what the simple soul called poetrypoetry, written in all sorts of measure and rhythmblank verse and rhyme, alternate rhymes, couplets and tripletspastoral, epic, dramatic, and didacticelegies and epigramssongs and sonnetsdevotional and bacchanalian moral and comical. There is no dress in which Poetry can appear that he had not given as a specimen of his talent, and he had wor~ shiped the Muse in every shape she had ever deigiied to assume. Some of the pieces, I observed, bore a date several years anterior to the period of which I am writing; and if they had not, their antiquity would have been apparent from the smoky complexion of the paper, and the marks left thereon, by frequent turning of the leaves by fingers that were none of the most delicate. I observed to the Poet that he had been some time in writing what was in the book. He said, Yes. He had written most of it while he was an apprentice, and soon after he went to New-York as a journeyman. He did not wish to publish any that he had not kept nine years, agreeably to the directions of Horace; except onethere was one, on the journey of President Munroe to the Northern States, in 1817; that, he thought, from the na- ture of the subject, had sufficient merit to obtain popularity, though it was written only four or five years before. I saw how it was. My friend, Mr. C. was one of the best and most kind-hearted souls in the world. He could not find it in his heart to tell this poor, ragged poet, that his doggerell would never sell. He could not brace his sinews up to that pointand he had transferred the job to me. Although a little vexed at this discovery, and satisfied from a moments inspection of the manuscript, that the writer was a simpleton and his poetry the merest trash in the creation, I had too much pity for him to treat him with rudeness. I could not, of course, encourage him to publish; and still less, was I disposed to grieve his heart by telling him that his manuscript was utterly worthless. I therefore dissuaded him from pushing his purpose, by presenting to his consideration the want of taste in the public to estimate the value of the productions of genius, and the selfishness and cold-heartedness of the world which suffers poets to pine in neglect and poverty. The wantonness of critics, too, he was reminded, would be an obstacle in the way of his acquiring wealth from his labors; but this argument seemed to have little weight. He had no fear of criticism; and, if he could but get a recommendation to some bookseller, who would pur- chase the copy-right, or even publish the work on shares, his utmost wishes would be gratified. The same spirit of meekness which he had discovered at our former interview, pervaded his countenance on this occasion. He showed no irritation, no dissatisfaction, at the ungracious reception his poems had met. Submissive and acquies- cent, he secured his manuscript again in the pocket-handkerchief, and departed. As he reciprocated my good night, the tone of his voice and the glimmer of his eye seemed to say that he forgave my unkind frankness, for which my want of taste and discernment was an apology. Many a time and often, during the next three months, did this mar- tyr of the muses resume his station at the door before mentioned; and 136 Some Passages in the occasionally would he cast his eye toward my window. But he never deigned to repeat his visit. At length he disappeared. What became of him I never knew. His applications to other publishers, if he made any, probably were followed by no better success; for I have never seen his poems in print, and the world has, I apprehend, never enjoyed the benefit of his inspiration. The case of this poor fellow is by no means a solitary one. Had he oc- cupied the hours and daysand probably yearswhich it cost him to indite his volume of verses, in setting types, he might have been, at the time I saw him, genteelly clad, and better fed than I presume him to have been, and, with money in both pockets, he might have bid defiance to care and the critics. It would be as well for many, who, like him, waste their precious time, in devotion to the unrelenting and unpropitious Muses,and, perhaps, better for the world,if they could not be so unfortunate as to find friends who advise them to pub- lish, and publishers who are blind enough to their own interest to grasp at the shadow of a profit they can never realize. Many years subsequent to this incident, I was the conductor of a periodical work, and received a letter from a person in a neighbor- ing town, informing me that he had written a poem of about four hun- dred lines, which he would be glad to dispose of for a small compensa- tion. His friends, he said, had spoken kindly of it, and induced him to think it was not without merit. To show me what he could perform in the way of poetical composition, he had enclosed a few verses, which I might publish, if I approved them, and, if otherwise, I was requested to return them. These verses consisted of about forty lines, intended to be arranged according to the Spenserian stanza, but, in truth, pos- sessing no one attribute of poetrynot even the mechanical one of measured lines. The letter was thrown into a drawer, with others to which it might claim some affinity, and forgotten. In the course of a few weeks afterwards, on entering my office, I observed a young man standing by the stove, where he had apparently been some time wait- ing my appearance. On being informed that I was the editor he had inquired for, Can I sell you that, sir? said he, taking from under his plaid cloak and thrusting towards me,with a bold and confident air, somewhat unexpected from the modesty of his appearance,a small roll, enveloped in a bit of an old newspaper. What is it, sir? said I. Poetry, he replied. I must examine it, before I can give you an answer, said I, and as I am engaged at this time, if you will leave it, you shall be informed whether the purchase can be made or not. I should like to get the money for it, this afternoon, said the gen- tleman; I live out of town, and if you could read it nowit would not take you more than half an hour The nature of my engagement was stated to him, and the incon- venience of complying at that moment with his request. But the gen- tleman was not to be disheartened by such apologies, nor did he intend to lose his point for want of perseverance. I sent you, he continued, a piece some weeks ago and request- ed you to return it, if you did not like it. Did you receive it? Hebdomadary of an Editor. 137 A few words of explanation showed me that this gentleman was the correspondent mentioned above. I opened the appropriate drawer, and, taking out his letter and specimen, asked him if that was the piece he referred to. He said it was; and on my telling him that it was not accepted, he insisted,with a pertinacity that was very far from indi- cating any distrust of his own powers,on knowing why it should be rejected. Finding I had to deal with one who was not to be shaken off very easily, I pointed out to him a few instances of false grammar and half a score of halting lines. Do they not contain ten syllables a piece ? said he. This was a poser. It was true, they did; but they seemed to have as little to do with each other, as if they had been obtained by deci- mating a dictionary. Having triumphed over me, as he thought, in the matter of the halting lines, he did not seem to care for the gram- mar. He expected, if the piece were accepted, that I should put that in myself. He had never studied a page of English Grammar in his life. In spite of my engagement, I began to feel interested in the fellows history, and I learned from him, in reply to my inquiries, that he had been bred to the shoe-making business; that he was exceed- ingly poor, and that his course of reading had been circumscribed to very narrow limits. He had read none of the English Poets, save Byron, and Childe Harold had been his principal study. This accounted for the form of his stanzasfor of Spenser, the poet, he had never heard. He had read no work on criticism, taste, or composition. He had been a free man only about six months; his health would not allow him to work at his trade; he had discovered that he had a talent for poetry, and his friends advised him to write for the press, and, with the proceeds, purchase books for future instruction and improvement. I was again pressed to examine the poem which had not been unrolled. It was of a piece with the specimen, and I perceived that it would be an act of kindness to advise him to throw by his pen for a few years, and betake himself to some other employment. But this was not the kind of advice he wanted. He admitted that it might be useful to study; but he must live, and how could he live unless he could be paid for what he had already written, and what he might write, while he should study for improvement! This question seemed to him to admit of no determination, different from the conclusion to which, in his own mind, he had arrived. When he found me inexo- rable in regard to the purchase, he unwillingly departed; but, as it afterward appeared, not without having adopted the resolution of one of Popes annoyers s death, I 11 print it, And shame the rogue; for, not many weeks after, I found in my box at the Post-Office, a small package, neatly sealed up, for The Editor of the On tearing off the envelope, I found its contents to be a little book of twenty-four pages, entitled The Tri~Dead, and other Poems, by a Mechanic. Printed for the Author. A look at one page was suffi- cient to enable me to recognize the Poem, which I had refused to pur- chase of the young shoemaker. What success be has had in disposin~ of his work, or what amount of profit I lost by declining the speculation, is altogether unknown to me. VOL. us. 18 138 CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. Tun time is drawing near when new recruits are to be sent forth from our colleges. Among these young men the choice of a profession is probably the subject, which engrosses most of their thoughts. I hope, therefore, that the following remarks, in the form of a letter from a young man to his friend, will not be thought inappropriate. Yor ask me to tell you which profession I think you should choose. I will do no such thing; but instead thereof; will make a few remarks, which will tend to free you from unnecessary incumbrances and false guides, rather than afford any positive assistance in determining the question before you. In the first place, ask nobodys advice. Consult no one, listen to no one. Otherwise you will be sadly perplexed. For friends will advise you, not upon right principles, but from their own prepossessions and prejudices. One is dazzled by the glittering mausoleum of an eminent lawyer. He recommends the law. Another has been captivated by the well-stored coffers of a successful physician. He recommends medicine. A third is charmed with the character of a clergyman, and prefers his plain monument of unsullied marble to the towering edifices raised by political ambition. He recommends divinity. Thus all the pursuits in the world may be recommended by your different friends. Now what is to be done? Here you are on the threshold of life. You are without experience. You cannot test for yourself the objects before you. In that case, life would be wasted before the work is begun. Men of experience offer different opinions. You cannot rely upon t em, and yet the decision must be made. How is it to be made? Disregard altogether the opinions of others. Study into the wants of the community, and the wants of your own soul. Examine the nature of your mind,its prepossessions, powers, and aptitudes. Learn which xvay your natural inclination, leads you, and in what your happiness consists. Then reflect upon the duties and advantages of~ each profession, and consider how far yoa are competent or capable of becoming competent to the duties, and how far you will be able to secure and enjoy the advantages. Beware of suffering extraneous circumstances to influence your decision. It is to be feared, that the fame of a few men, in the law, for instance, has drawn many into that profession, who were altogether unfit for it, and who might have been eminent physicians or useful clergymen. You must not be led astray by such considerations. That Marshall, or Webster, or Wirt has acquired a high reputation, is no reason why you should enter the same profession, unless you feel germinating within yourself the seeds of talents, such as they possess. Suppose that the shrub, which from its nature can never be more than two feet high, should say, as it sees the oak, towering to heaven upon a neighboring hill, If I could only he planted upon that hill, I, too, should rise and kiss the heavens ; or suppose that the eagle, jealous of the heaver, should undertake to vie with him in architecture, or that the beaver should spend his life in the attempt to soar above the eagles flight. Would it not be very

H. H. Choice of a Profession Original Papers 138-144

138 CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. Tun time is drawing near when new recruits are to be sent forth from our colleges. Among these young men the choice of a profession is probably the subject, which engrosses most of their thoughts. I hope, therefore, that the following remarks, in the form of a letter from a young man to his friend, will not be thought inappropriate. Yor ask me to tell you which profession I think you should choose. I will do no such thing; but instead thereof; will make a few remarks, which will tend to free you from unnecessary incumbrances and false guides, rather than afford any positive assistance in determining the question before you. In the first place, ask nobodys advice. Consult no one, listen to no one. Otherwise you will be sadly perplexed. For friends will advise you, not upon right principles, but from their own prepossessions and prejudices. One is dazzled by the glittering mausoleum of an eminent lawyer. He recommends the law. Another has been captivated by the well-stored coffers of a successful physician. He recommends medicine. A third is charmed with the character of a clergyman, and prefers his plain monument of unsullied marble to the towering edifices raised by political ambition. He recommends divinity. Thus all the pursuits in the world may be recommended by your different friends. Now what is to be done? Here you are on the threshold of life. You are without experience. You cannot test for yourself the objects before you. In that case, life would be wasted before the work is begun. Men of experience offer different opinions. You cannot rely upon t em, and yet the decision must be made. How is it to be made? Disregard altogether the opinions of others. Study into the wants of the community, and the wants of your own soul. Examine the nature of your mind,its prepossessions, powers, and aptitudes. Learn which xvay your natural inclination, leads you, and in what your happiness consists. Then reflect upon the duties and advantages of~ each profession, and consider how far yoa are competent or capable of becoming competent to the duties, and how far you will be able to secure and enjoy the advantages. Beware of suffering extraneous circumstances to influence your decision. It is to be feared, that the fame of a few men, in the law, for instance, has drawn many into that profession, who were altogether unfit for it, and who might have been eminent physicians or useful clergymen. You must not be led astray by such considerations. That Marshall, or Webster, or Wirt has acquired a high reputation, is no reason why you should enter the same profession, unless you feel germinating within yourself the seeds of talents, such as they possess. Suppose that the shrub, which from its nature can never be more than two feet high, should say, as it sees the oak, towering to heaven upon a neighboring hill, If I could only he planted upon that hill, I, too, should rise and kiss the heavens ; or suppose that the eagle, jealous of the heaver, should undertake to vie with him in architecture, or that the beaver should spend his life in the attempt to soar above the eagles flight. Would it not be very Okoica of a Profession. 139 ridiculous? And yet not more so, not a whit more ridiculous, than for you to engage in Law, Medicine, or Divinity, because charmed by the reputation of some great name, when you have not reflected a moment upon your capacity or incapacity for the pursuits upon which you would enter. This is making a strong statement. But I am sat- isfied that it would hardly be thought an exaggeration, could we but assemble before us the crowds, whose talents have been misplaced, and their energies wasted, in~ consequence of the celebrity of a few distinguished men. I have at this moment in my eye the image of a young man, who was engaged in mercantile pursuits, and bidding fair to become a respectable merchant. But he chanced to form an acquaintance with a professional gentleman of some eminerce. Captivated by this gen- tlemans reputation, he determined to follow the same course, not doubting that he should meet the same success. lie therefore applied himself at once to hard study. But he was not fashioned for a scholar, and his progress was exceedingly slow. This was the source .of insupportable mortification to his morbidly sensitive mind. Still he persevered, and, after having spent I know not how many years in utter wretchedness, pursuing a route for which nature never destined him, he was at last obliged to abandon the project with a constitution so shattered, and a mind so discouraged, as to render him absolutely unfit for any employment whatever. Disregard altogether the suggestions of ambition. Fame is too small and mean a reward for the labors of a life. The man, who is most successful in pursuit of it, is, after all, an unhappy and disap- pointed being, if this has been the great object of his existence. See him walking to and fro upon the summit of his cold and barren prom- ontory, muttering to himself words of bitterness and vexation. I had once, he says, I had once looked up to the great men of the world with unbounded respect. I dreamed that if I could but reach their places, I should be happy. Ah me! I did but dream. I reached those places. I-leaven answered my wishes, and added thereto what I had not dared to hope. But I am not happy. I am disap- pointed. I have climbed to the spot where my rainbow was extended; hut the bright vision has fled. The place, which my childish fancy had peopled with sunny pleasures and rich and substantial joys, is but a desert. I once thought great men happy; and as I perused the his- tory of by-gone ages, my heart glowed within me at the contemplation of illustrious men, and I longed to follow, though at an awful distance, in their imposing train. I followed them. Hopes, desires, facilities increased, and I at length, have placed myself among them. But I am disappoi ted. They are not what I had thought them. Lofty moun- tains are indeed nearer to the sun than humble plains; but they are only the more bleak and weather-beaten. Even the fogs, by which fens are infested, are hardly less frequent upon the mountain tops and then the storms, the merciless, pitiless storms, which. clatter against their rough sides! Ambition, I no longer covet your honors~ They are apples of Sodombitter dust and ashes. Striking and just are the words of Burke in his old age : My Lord, if I know my own mind, I would not give a peck of refuse wheat for all that tim world calls great. 140 Choice of a Professio?i. But this is no place to preach upon the vanity and worthlessness of fame. Admitting the highest claims, which its advocates would make for it, still it is an unphilosophical object of pursuit. There are too many blanks, and the tickets are too dear to justify a purchase in the lottery. Mediocrity is the common portion of man. Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil. None can reckon upon it with cer- tainty, and few can put forth reasonable claims to it. Usefulness is an absolute term. It interferes with nothing else. It can exist alone. Any man may therefore be useful. But eminence and opulence are relative terms, and as much imply the existence of degradation and poverty as hills and trees imply the existence of valleys and roots. One man is conspicuous, not always because he is high; but because others are low. If thousands rise together, all which the ambitious man desires is lost. Besides, fame will be quite as likely to come to those who seek it not, as to its most ardent votaries. I should advise you, therefore, to put it entirely out of your mind, in determining upon your profession. It is good for nothing when attained. You have hardly a chance of attaining it. If it is to come to you, it will come in that pursuit to which your talents are best adapted. He, who could never shine at the bar, or in the halls of legislation, may, as a physician, a scholar or a clergyman, build up a reputation as durable and as valuable as the proudest trophies of the conqueror, or the richest laurels of the statesman. But I have dwelt too long on this point. You must decide upon it for yourself; and if you find that your habits and feelings are such that fame or pelf must he the pole-star of your existence, of course, you have no thoughts of studying Divinity. That would be hypocrisy; it would be sacrilege. Your mind is unfit for the sacred office, and you would take no pleasure in the performance of its duties. Religion is under light obligation to those, her recreant sons, however exalted in intellect, who have made her altars the stepping stones to worldly pr& ferments, dignities, emoluments and honors. She has already suffered too much from such characters, and you will not add yourself to the number. If, however, you conclude that the great object of life is to be use- ful to yourself and others,that this is the surest means of advancing your happiness, and that your plans should be laid out and your actions performed with reference to this; then all the great pursuits of life are open, and the difficult work of selecting is yet on your hands. The only question, which you are to answer, is, In which profession can I be most happy, and do the greatest good? Considering the professions in themselves, the duties which they require, the manner in which they are filled, the general wants of the country, the charac- ter of your own mind, your feelings, habits, and physical temperament; considering all these separately and relatively, you must determine for which you are best adapted, and in which you are most likely to suc- ceed. You must not be satisfied with a partial view. It is not enough to decide that your talents are best fitted for law or medicine. It does not follow that you will therefore be nest sue ~easful in these profes- sioris. If they happed to be crowued, arm our ~hurche~ are in want of liastors, iii ~t not ; but remember that a you lose ~i~ht of thib Okoice of a Profession. 141 common preacher, where preachers are wanted, may do more good and be more prosperous than an able lawyer where lawyers abound, in the same manner, and for the same reason, that he, who is an excellent physician and only a tolerable surgeon, will sometimes find himself more usefully employed in exercising his scanty knowledge of surgery than his consummate skill in medicine. Is not this a consideration which ought to have great weight upon the irimds of those about to engage in the learned professions? Is not the bar full to overflowing? Are two thirds of our lawyers really wanted? To be sure, men of perseverance, talents and integrity will make their way, and do good; but could they not be of more service in another profession which is not full? I would by no means be sup- posed to intimate that all well-educated young men of principle will be more serviceable in the desk than at the bar. I entertain no such belief. Some may have minds of so peculiar a structure, that they are fit only for law. Others may have peculiarities of temper, manners, perhaps even of voice or countenance, which would render them worse than useless in the clerical office, while in other walks of life they might succeed. Better be without preachers, than have only those whose minds are so weak, or whose manners are such as to bring dis- credit upon their office. But when there is no peculiarity and no incorrigible prejudices in the way, is not the dearth of clergymen a very important circumstance, which should not be lightly passed over? There are many other considerations of minor importance which I fear have too much influence upon young men. One is the comparative respectability of the several professions. Every one wishes to attach himself to a respectable class, lie feels that his influence, and, by consequence, his usefulness, is diminished, if he is associated with a degraded caste. So far as relates to the choice of a profession this deserves not a feathers weight. They are all respect- able, all despised, according to the character of those by whom they are filled. Even within the narrow bounds of New-England, nothing has struck me more forcibly than the different estimation in which the same profession is held in different places. One place is persecuted by a hard, grinding attorney. There lawyers generally are dreaded, and the profession thought oppressive. In another place several young lawyers of small talents and less industry have lately opened shops for the sale of golden opinions, and there the profession is looked upon as light and worthless. A third town has been favored with a profound, hon- orable, honest, and humane practitioner, and there the respect in which he is held is extended to his profession. So with all pursuits. Ifsome have been thought to command too little attention, is it not on account of the inferior character of those by whom they are repre- sented? and will not the tables he turned and the professions duly respected as soon as they are filled by men who command esteem and confidence? Talents and integrity will every where be honored, while imbecility and fraud, ignorance and charlatanry, can find no station sufficiently high and no dress sufficiently rich to screen them from derision and detestation. Many are deterred from studying divinity, by the impres.sion that it will require them to be too staid and formal,by the idea that they would thereby obligate themselves to live a different sort of life from i4~ GAoice of a Profession. what would otherwise be required of them. They are deterred from studying divinity by the same consideration, which deters many from joining temperance societies. They never drink ardent spirits; never wish for them. But yet they are unwilling to promise to abstain. Et gui nolunt occidere quenquam, posse volunt. They want the power, they want the liberty, although certain that they will never have occa- sion to make use of it. He, who can deliberately harbor in his mind this sentiment, does well to keep from the pulpit. He has not yet ac- quired that command over his feelings, which becomes a reasonable, a religious being. But whatever course he is to pursue, he will do well to divest himself of the weakness. Otherwise he will find it hard, very hard, to perform, with uprightness and integrity, the duties which the common walks of life will demand of him. Besides, the objection proceeds on a misgrounded assumption. Why are clergymen called upon to be more holy than other men? What moral or religious duty is binding upon them, which is not equally binding upon the lowest drudge of society? Happily, the days of clerical ostentation are going by,the days when a sanctimonious scowl and a holy drawl were the only passports to the pastoral office. It is happily discovered, that the clergy are men, subject to like pas- sions with other men, equally liable to err, and having equal claims upon the sympathy and forgiving spirit of their brethren. Perfection is not expected of them. While they are on the earth, it is supposed that they will enter into the feelings and be affected by the vicissitudes of earth; that they will participate in its light and its serious concerns; that they will rejoice in its prosperity and smart under its afflictions. Like astronomers, their business is with another world; their principal thoughts are to be fixed upon heaven and heavenly things. Still, they are in a terrestrial atmosphere, exposed to its accidents, and affected by its changes. From the innocent amusements of life they are not shut out; and what other amusements can a rational, moral being wish to enjoy? Above all things, my friend, take care to select such a profession that you will delight to be employed in its concerns. Remember that your happiness and success depend upon common things; that they are a thousand times more influenced by ordinary events, by your daily duties and occupations, than by any great epochs, to which you may look forward. Swift has but expressed what every student has felt, when he says, that the scholars happiness consists not in having knowledge, but in acquiring it. The professional mans happiness consists not in being at any particular point of eminence or usefulness, but in getting there. Life is spent in performing the journey. The repose, which follows, is short, uncertain, and too often fitful, inter- rupted, and distressing. You can place no reliance upon it. When surrounded with cares, overwhelmed with vexations, and looking anxiously around for the rest which your wearied system requires, it may be consoling to glance at the time, when, rich in wisdom and laden with honors, you may enjoy a dignified retirement in the bosom of your family and friends. But remember that it is only a fancy sketch; that it can be enjoyed only in anticipation. Our business must be our delight, or we are wretched. Happiness or misery is en- grafted upon every shrub and flower which we see in the journey of Choice of a Profession. 143 life, and from them if from any thing it must be gathered. Nature has not been so parsimonious as to confine her gifts to the inns and stop- ping-places, which we may meet. Every moment is fertile, either in joy or sorrow, cheerfulness or sadness, success or disappointment, cheerfulness or wearisomeness. Time is not a desert,, unless we make it so. It is not a desert with here and there a gushing spring, a green shade, a fruitful field, to which we are to direct our steps. Far from it. It is an expanse every where richly diversified with Sweet interchange Of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains ; and every where, if our minds are rightly cultivated and our course judiciously selected, we cannot fail to drink in happiness as the air we breathe. But if our minds are not properly regulated, and we have taken a false step, traveling a way repugnant to our feelings, habits and powers, it is of no avail that Nature has been thus bountiful in her gifts, that she has opened her stores of endless variety, and spread out her visions of surpassing beauty and loveliness. They are lost upon us. We have no relish for them. We are out of our sphere like inhabitants of the ocean journeying on shore, if they could have enough of the breath of life insured to them to enable them with writh- ings and agony to perform the tour. Our duties are irksome. We shudder to enter upon them, and are impatient for the moment when they shall be accomplished. As the ox is dragged to the slaughter, as the prisoner is driven to his task, so go we to our businessto the business of our lives! The sun shines; but we heed it not. The showers descend; but we regard them not. And all this because we have mistaken our purposebecause, for the sake of some remote and visionary good, we have engaged in pursuits, for which we have no taste, and in which we can take no pleasure. We have purposely deferred our happiness till some remote period which is subject to innumerable contingencies; or rather, we have sacrificed the certain happiness which we might reap from employments congenial to our naturesa certain happiness which we might be enjoying all our lives longthis we have blindly sacrificed through the hope of enjoying some fanciful good, which, under the most favorable circumstances, cannot come till our hearts are seared, our affections withered, our susceptibility blunted, and our health wasted, and which, at best, is but a puff of empty air, an uncertain, unsubstantial, momentary blessing. Do not lose sight of this. Consider that your happiness is insepara- bly inter~voven with the duties of your profession. If they are painful or irksome, life will pass but roughly. If they are agreeable, you may count upon as much happiness as falleth to the lot of mortals. Choose the right way, says an old divine, and habit will make it agreeable. But what is the right way? It is not a spiritual, abstract right, of which you are in search. From many things which in them- selves are good, you are to select that which is good for you, and to do this, you must submit to a severe self-examination; you must carefully compare your inclinations, feelings and powers, with the various duties before you. The purposes of your life are serious, dignified, and im- portant. Ponder well. Throw aside adventitious considerations. Re- flect upon the wants of the community and the fitness of things. Rend 144 Domestic Manners of the Americans. not asunder what Heaven has joined together, neither bring together what Heaven has meant should be distinct and separate. Remember that your fellow-men have claims upon you; but that you have claims upon yourself more imperious and more sacred than all the ties by which man is bound to man. H. DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE AMERICANS. * EVERY nation has its own customs, as every man has his own ways. happy the man who conforms to a good model, and wretched the people whose customs offend Mrs. Trollope. There is much, thought Mr. Shandy, in a name: if words are things, names are more than shades; the name of Mrs. Trollope, therefore, may be, at least, the shadow of a thing. Politeness is relative and conventional. What is polite in England, is rude in Persia; and what is fashion in London, is, sometimes, not tolerated at Paris. The English, like all people, make their own laws for social regulation, and by these they judge, not only themselves, but others. The Americans have been charged, by almost all English travelers, with outraging these social ordinances; and for our future guidance, an abstract is here made of the principal specifications contained in the ladys complaint. In the times of chivalry, there was a Court of Love, in which all the tender sentiments and principles were decided by married ladies; and, also, a Court of Honor, in which knights decided the questions more within their own knowledge and instinct. But there is now no tribunal of either kind, and all delicate points of love or honor must be submitted to a public appeal, in which there is much dispute but no decision. We are not called upon to deny the fact, that, generally speaking, our countrymen of the operative class have more sturdiness than polish; yet we believe, that they have, at least, infinitely more knowledge and good manners than the same classes in Great-Britain. But we have many deficiencies, and there is no better way to amend us than to read the satires of foreigners. There is generally some foundation even for caricature, and, if we will not look at the picture which enemies make of us, we may never be acquainted with our own peculiarities. Mrs. Trollope, indeed, describes individuals as a class: she traveled to find fault, and, of course, from no country could she have returned with a blank journal. One of the first recorded offences was, that, at New-Orleans, she was introduced in form to a milliner, an evil omen of republican equality; yet, we should suppose, not distasteful to a lady then going to Cincinnati, to sell millinery and other wares. The author, however, for a while, forgot petty offences, in visiting Miss Wright, one of her closest friends, and a traveling philanthropist and lecturer, who has secured that kind of fame which is generally the least esteemed. The steam-boat was not swift enough for the impatience of these congenial * Domestic Manners of the Americans. By Mrs. Trollope.

Domestic Manners of the Americans Original Papers 144-147

144 Domestic Manners of the Americans. not asunder what Heaven has joined together, neither bring together what Heaven has meant should be distinct and separate. Remember that your fellow-men have claims upon you; but that you have claims upon yourself more imperious and more sacred than all the ties by which man is bound to man. H. DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE AMERICANS. * EVERY nation has its own customs, as every man has his own ways. happy the man who conforms to a good model, and wretched the people whose customs offend Mrs. Trollope. There is much, thought Mr. Shandy, in a name: if words are things, names are more than shades; the name of Mrs. Trollope, therefore, may be, at least, the shadow of a thing. Politeness is relative and conventional. What is polite in England, is rude in Persia; and what is fashion in London, is, sometimes, not tolerated at Paris. The English, like all people, make their own laws for social regulation, and by these they judge, not only themselves, but others. The Americans have been charged, by almost all English travelers, with outraging these social ordinances; and for our future guidance, an abstract is here made of the principal specifications contained in the ladys complaint. In the times of chivalry, there was a Court of Love, in which all the tender sentiments and principles were decided by married ladies; and, also, a Court of Honor, in which knights decided the questions more within their own knowledge and instinct. But there is now no tribunal of either kind, and all delicate points of love or honor must be submitted to a public appeal, in which there is much dispute but no decision. We are not called upon to deny the fact, that, generally speaking, our countrymen of the operative class have more sturdiness than polish; yet we believe, that they have, at least, infinitely more knowledge and good manners than the same classes in Great-Britain. But we have many deficiencies, and there is no better way to amend us than to read the satires of foreigners. There is generally some foundation even for caricature, and, if we will not look at the picture which enemies make of us, we may never be acquainted with our own peculiarities. Mrs. Trollope, indeed, describes individuals as a class: she traveled to find fault, and, of course, from no country could she have returned with a blank journal. One of the first recorded offences was, that, at New-Orleans, she was introduced in form to a milliner, an evil omen of republican equality; yet, we should suppose, not distasteful to a lady then going to Cincinnati, to sell millinery and other wares. The author, however, for a while, forgot petty offences, in visiting Miss Wright, one of her closest friends, and a traveling philanthropist and lecturer, who has secured that kind of fame which is generally the least esteemed. The steam-boat was not swift enough for the impatience of these congenial * Domestic Manners of the Americans. By Mrs. Trollope. Domestic Manners of the Americans. 145 souls. 0 for a horse with wings. The steam-boat, of course, though without accountability, had to hear a portion of the ladys con- demnation; for she averred, and probably with perfect sincerity, that she would infinitely prefer sharing the apartment of a party of well- conditioned pigs, to being confined to its cabin. Having been a few days in the country, and partly confined to the steam-boat, she made the general and astounding charge of the incessant and remorseless spitting of the Americans ; although it occurs to her that possibly this phrase, Americans, may be too general. Perhaps it was; but we give up the practice to all reprobation, and the offenders to condign pun- ishment. Were the goodly English tax imposed upon tobacco, it would be better for our health, manners and carpets. The following is Mrs. Trollopes theory on a supposed peculiarity of the American physiognomy: Their lips are almost uniformly thin and compressed. At first, I accounted for this upon Lavaters theory, and attributed it to the arid temperament of the people; but it is too universal to be so explained; whereas the habit above-mentioned, which pervades all classes (except the literary) well accounts for it, as the act of express- ing the juices of this loathsome herb enforces exactly that position of the lips which gives this remarkable peculiarity to the American countenance. The lady was favored on the Mississippi with the soci- ety of generals, colonels, and majors, in the cabin ; but the captains were all on deck. Some of these sons of thunder were, probably, of Kentucky; for, while yet hundreds of miles from Kentucky, she de- scribes its inhabitants with perfect confidence, but with a random justice. The Kentuckians, says she, are a very noble-looking race of men; their aver ge height considerably exceeds that of Euro- peans, and their countenances, except when disfigured by red hair, which is not unfrequent, extremely handsome. The ladys nerves seem to have suffered from the frightful manner of feeding with their knives, till the whole blade seemed to enter into the mouth, which was practised by her fellow-passengers on board. The voracious rapidity with which the viands were seized and devoured, we give up to castigation; we are of opinion, that ten minutes is not sufficient time to allow for the proper disposition of a dinner. We believe, with Justice Inglewood, that man requires digestion as well as food. The first charge against the Cincinnatians was, that they lived with- out amusements; cards and billiards were forbidden by law; there were iio balls but at Christmas, and no concerts or dinner parties, at any time. The churches, pouring out their well-dressed hundreds, seemed to be the theatres and caf6s of the place. The only amuse- ments were private tea-drinkings. It follows, therefore, in the ladys estimation, that the want of amusements in a new town, where every one must necessarily be employed for subsistence, is an evidence of the coldness and want of enthusiasm of the Americans. Some of the employments were also distasteful to the eye of refinement, though Mrs. Trollope admits, that, it is hardly fair to quarrel with a place because its staple commodity is not pretty. She admits, how- ever, that she should have liked Cincinnati much better if the peo- ple had not dealt so largely in hogs. It annoyed her to see in the newspapers, voL. iii. 19 146 Domestic 1~Icnzners of the Americans. Wanted immediately, 4000 fat hogs. For sale, 2000 barrels of prime pork. It was equally annoying to see all classes reading newspapers, rather than Shakspeare and Dryden; as though a fourth part of Shakspeares own countrymen, in England, had ever heard of him. If you buy a yard of ribbon, says Mrs. Trollope, the shopkeeper lays down his newspaper, perhaps two or three, to measure it. I have seen a brew- ers drayman perched on the top of his dray, reading one newspaper, while another was tucked under his arm; and I once went into the cottage of a country shoemaker of the name of Harris, where I saw a newspaper half full of original poetry, directed to Madison Frank- un Harris. Such unwarrantable doings are never seen in England, and are therefore reprobated in America. Some editor supplies for Mrs. Trollope, the materials for the following anecdote, which shows rather a deficient knowledge of what it relates to A tailor sold a suit of clothes to a sailor a few months before he sailed, which was on a Sunday morning. The corporation of .TVew- York prosecuted the tailor, and he was convicted, and sentenced to a fine greatly beyond his means to pay. Mr. F. a lawyer of New-York, defended him with much eloquence, but in vain. His powerful speech, however, was not without effect, for it raised him such a host of Presbyterian enemies as ss{fficed to destroy his practice. Nor was this all: his nephew was at the time preparing for the bar, and, soon after the above cir- cumstance occurred, his certificates were presented, and refused, with this decla- ration, that no man of the name and family of F. should be admitted. I have met this young man in society; he is a person of very considerable talent, and being thus cruelly robbed of his profession, has become the editor of a news- paper. The theatre at Cincinnati seems to have offered strange sights in the boxes as well as on the stage. Men came into the boxes without their coats, placing themselves in indescribable attitudes, the heels higher than the head, in a manner denoting exquisite posture-makers. The entire rear of the person, also, was presented to the audience, as may be seen in a print attached to the book. The judges on the bench are said to indulge themselves in these extraordinary atti- tudes, which, doubtless, some peculiarity of the American formation leads them to find the most comfortable. Besides this inability to sit down, Mrs. Trollope never saw an American man walk or stand well. The supremacy of the laws in the United States, is thus des- patched The contempt of law is greater than 1 can venture to state with any hope of being believed. Trespass, assault, robbery, nay, even murder, are often committed without the slightest attempt at legal interference. If it be a true saying that the judgement of our ene- mies concerning us is more correct than that of our friends, then has Mrs. Trollopes book in its favor, at least, the authority of the proverb. There are some satires in it that it will not injure us to read. 147 THE CHOLERA. THE term CHOLERA MORBUS, or, simply, CHOLERA, 15 applied to two diseases, in many respects resembling each other but very different in their degree of violence, and distinguished by several obvious and important peculiarities. The prominent and general symptoms, which are common to both, and may therefore be considered as essential to Cholera, are vomiting, intestinal evacuations, and irregular contortions of the muscles, termed cramps, or spasms. The suddenness of the attack, the violence of the symptoms, the nature of the fluids evacuated, and the degree of mortality, are some of the circumstances by which the two forms of Cholera are distinguished from each other. The milder form of the disease, with which alone we have till lately been acquainted in our own country, makes its appearance during the preva- lence of the most intense heat to which we are subjected in the months of July and August; it most generally follows upon excess in diet, but often shows itself independently of this cause; its intensityisvery various, being occasionally such as to destroy life in the course of a few hours, while, in other cases, it is protracted by alternations of rallying and relapse to several days. In common with the disease which we have yet to describe, it has been regarded as an affection of the bilious system; and it is from the Greek term for bile that the general appellation is derived. But while, in this form, the bile is in excess, and forms the principal part of the fluids evacuated in the other, it is always deficient, and, generally speaking, is wholly absent. It has, for this reason, been found con- venient for writers to distinguish the common disease as bilious cholera. The spasms, which have been mentioned as common to both forms, resemble in this, the cramps usually induced by vomiting; and are more or less severe according to the degree in which this symptom is present. Bilious Cholera is dangerous, and sometimes fatal; but if seen at an early period, and judiciously treated, by far the largest pro- portion of cases terminate in recovery. The other form of Cholera, and that to which public attention has been of late so painfully directed, is a disease of far greater severity, violence, and danger. Until within little more than two years, this disease may be considered as unknown to Europe. By the natives of Bengal it is termed ?nordezim, a term which the French colonial settlers in that country conveniently meta- morphosed into mort de chien. The true meaning of the term, accord- ing to the learned, is death-blow, an expression admirably suited to its character and mode of attack. The French name, however, is very generally received, and by it the disease is now known at Madras. The term Spasmodic Oholera, as a specific appellation, was first ap- plied to it about 1807. At this time its ravages were remarked, and its nature began to be particularly studied; but it had not then ac- quired the virulence which it has since assumed. It was spoken of by writers as a new disease; that is, as one which till then had been but imperfectly described ; for of its existence many years previous there can be no doubt. The circumstances, in which the disease of that period differed from the worst form of the present epidemic, were prin~ cipally the uniform presence of spasm, which, in some of the wor

The Cholera Original Papers 147-157

147 THE CHOLERA. THE term CHOLERA MORBUS, or, simply, CHOLERA, 15 applied to two diseases, in many respects resembling each other but very different in their degree of violence, and distinguished by several obvious and important peculiarities. The prominent and general symptoms, which are common to both, and may therefore be considered as essential to Cholera, are vomiting, intestinal evacuations, and irregular contortions of the muscles, termed cramps, or spasms. The suddenness of the attack, the violence of the symptoms, the nature of the fluids evacuated, and the degree of mortality, are some of the circumstances by which the two forms of Cholera are distinguished from each other. The milder form of the disease, with which alone we have till lately been acquainted in our own country, makes its appearance during the preva- lence of the most intense heat to which we are subjected in the months of July and August; it most generally follows upon excess in diet, but often shows itself independently of this cause; its intensityisvery various, being occasionally such as to destroy life in the course of a few hours, while, in other cases, it is protracted by alternations of rallying and relapse to several days. In common with the disease which we have yet to describe, it has been regarded as an affection of the bilious system; and it is from the Greek term for bile that the general appellation is derived. But while, in this form, the bile is in excess, and forms the principal part of the fluids evacuated in the other, it is always deficient, and, generally speaking, is wholly absent. It has, for this reason, been found con- venient for writers to distinguish the common disease as bilious cholera. The spasms, which have been mentioned as common to both forms, resemble in this, the cramps usually induced by vomiting; and are more or less severe according to the degree in which this symptom is present. Bilious Cholera is dangerous, and sometimes fatal; but if seen at an early period, and judiciously treated, by far the largest pro- portion of cases terminate in recovery. The other form of Cholera, and that to which public attention has been of late so painfully directed, is a disease of far greater severity, violence, and danger. Until within little more than two years, this disease may be considered as unknown to Europe. By the natives of Bengal it is termed ?nordezim, a term which the French colonial settlers in that country conveniently meta- morphosed into mort de chien. The true meaning of the term, accord- ing to the learned, is death-blow, an expression admirably suited to its character and mode of attack. The French name, however, is very generally received, and by it the disease is now known at Madras. The term Spasmodic Oholera, as a specific appellation, was first ap- plied to it about 1807. At this time its ravages were remarked, and its nature began to be particularly studied; but it had not then ac- quired the virulence which it has since assumed. It was spoken of by writers as a new disease; that is, as one which till then had been but imperfectly described ; for of its existence many years previous there can be no doubt. The circumstances, in which the disease of that period differed from the worst form of the present epidemic, were prin~ cipally the uniform presence of spasm, which, in some of the wor 148 The Cholera. cases since, is nearly or altogether wanting, and in the greater dura- tion of the symptoms. In other respects the diseases agree, and the descriptions we obtain from the writers on Indian diseases at that period, accord, in all essential particulars, with those we read of it at the present day. There can be no doubt, then, that Spasmodic Cholera has been known in India, as a disease of the country, for a very long period. The commencement, however, of the present severe epidemic, is re- ferred, by common consent, to the year 1817. In August of this year the Cholera attacked Jessore, about one hundred miles northeast of Calcutta, and invaded the latter city early in September. From Cal- cutta it extended its ravages to Behar. It then attacked, in succession, Benares, Allahabad, Lucknow, Delhi, and many other towns on the north of the peninsula. At length it reached the army, and spread through its different di- visions, proceeding gradually over the Deccan. At fins Singabad its ravages were peculiarly severe. It subsequently attacked Nagpoor, and Aurungabad, and arrived at Bombay, in September, 1818, twelve months after its appearance at Calcutta. From this time it proceeded south, with an apparently re~ular course, until it reached the extremity of the peninsula. From hence, it found its way to Ceylon; to the peninsula of Siam; to Malacca, and across the Straights of Sunda to China. It also showed itself in Mauritius, and much more slightly at Bourbon, in which place its progress, in that direction, appeared to be arrested. It was during its progress through India, as we have now described it, that the disease first assumed those terrible features by which it has since been characterized; and the observations recorded by witnesses, at this period, are both curious and important. From these we shall quote but a fe~v striking passages, which will probably be more inter- esting to our readers than a detailed description of the symptoms. The disease generally begins with a watery purging, unattended with pain. At an interval of from half an hour to six hours, follows vomit- ing of a whitish fluid, unmixed, in any instance, with hile. rrhe spasms succeed at no determinate period, attacking first the toes and legs, and then extending to the thighs, and arms. There is invariably complaint of great heat at the stomach, and continual calling for cold drink. In general, all pain and spasm leave the patient before death; and when the heart cannot be felt to beat, he expresses himself easy, and says he is better. In the severer onsets, the course was far more rapid than that just described. In many instances, vomiting, purging, and spasms, were all absent; the powers of the system failing at once, and death ensuing in three or four hours. Natives were struck down with the disease while walking in the open air; they fell down, retched a little, complained of deafness, vertigo, and blindness, and, in a few minutes, expired. From these facts, it will readily be inferred, that the disease has undergone hut little alteration in its passage from Asia to our own hores. There is another circumstance, which, in this connection, it is worth our while to notice. It prevailed to a degree equally violent t all seasons of the year; in regard to temperature, from 40 or 50 degrees of Fahrenheit to 90 or 100; in regard to moisture, during the The Cholera. 149 continuance of almost incessant rain for months, and in that dry sea- son which scarce leaves a vestige of vegetation on the surface of the earth. From the period now mentioned to 1330, the accounts of the disease are vague and imperfect, and scarce form the materials for a consec- utive history. It continued, though not constantly, at Bombay, till 1321, and in that year appeared at Muscat, at the mouth of the Per- sian gulf. From Muscat it spread extensively on the shores of the gulf. On the north, it extended in 1821, to Shiraz and Yezd, in Per- sia. On the south, following, apparently, the banks of the Tigris, it reached the Mediterranean in 1823, and attacked Aleppo, Antioch, and other places. In this same year it appeared in Tabriz, or Tauris, a considerable town in Persia, supposed to contain 50,000 inhabitants. In the same year it appeared at Astrachan on the very confines of Europe, but showed no disposition to extend itself westward. From this time we know little of its ravages until 1828, in which, and the following year, it is said to have been present in the province of Ghilan in Persia, and to have attacked Reschd, its principal town. In 1828 it also invaded Teheran, a populous town, in the province of Irak Agemi. In the two following years it was again at Tabriz, where it is stated to have destroyed 5000 of the inhabitants. In 1830, it appeared at Teflis, the capital of Georgia, and, in seven weeks, reduced the population of that town, between death and emigration, from thirty to eight thousand. The most interesting fact at this period of its history was its appear- ance and progress in the Russian province of Orenburg. On the 8th of September, 1829, it showed itself in the city of that name. Its development at that particular time and place is one of those many unaccountable facts, which have served to perplex and divide inquir- ers into the nature of this singular disease. The most diligent inquiry, by the Russian government, could discover no probable channel by which it was communicated. Between this time and the following February, it ravaged the whole province, attacking 44 villages, and destroying 865 souls. During this part of its history, the records of its progress appear to have been faithfully and accurately preserved. With the second appearance of the disease in Astrachan, commenced that rapid career in the course of which it has overrun so large a por- tion of the civilized world. The first case in this city occurred on the 3d of July, 1830. The period of its stay was but eighteen days, during which time there were 1299 cases, and 433 deaths. The towns in the course of the Wolga now became the objects of attack, and, on the 9th of October, the disease entered Moscow. Here it remained nearly four months, and seized 8576 individuals, of whom 4690 died. In this place, in fact, it seemed to take up its quarters for the winter; and, issuing thence the following spring, attacked both the Russian and Polish armies in their encampments. Its ravages in Warsaw commenced the 10th of April, and continued seven weeks. During this time 3912 were attacked, and 1462 died. From this time, it raged in Poland without control; caused signal mortality in the towns of Brodi and Lemberg, and made its appearance in St. Petersburgh on the 10th of June. In this city, it remained 48 150 Tho Cholera. days, and attacked 7567, of whom 3804 fell victims to its fury. In the beginning of October, it appeared at Hamburg, and, in the latter part of the same month, at Sunderland, in England. Its subsequent history, to the present period, we shall leave to be supplied by the rec- ollection of our readers. We now come to the consideration of that intricate question, To what are we to attribute the origin and progress of the present epi- demic? The most simple view that we can take of this subject, per- haps, is the following: That Cholera has occurred since the year 1817, as it did before that year, from the operation of atmospheric heat and accidental excess, operating on bodies debilitated by a vitiated atmo- sphere, insufficient or improper food, and intemperate habits; that to these causes nothing has been superadded, within the last fifteen years, except mental emotions of a depressing character, partly arising in particular countries from political causes, in which mode despondence may be conceived to have operated in Poland, and the spirit of revolt among the people of France; the passion common to all, having been fear and terror of its approach; to many, suspicion, as in Petersburgh and Paris; to a smaller number, and individually, superstition, or the persuasion of Divine wrath, and impending judgement. In this view, the cases are to be regarded as a succession of unconnected events, not acting on each other as cause and effect, except so far as the pas- sions before mentioned are concerned, still less springing from the uniform operation of a common cause, but arising as cholic, dysentery, catarrh, gout, and other diseases, have arisen during the same period from their appropriate causes; some being obvious to the observation of man in each individual case, others concealed from him, but equally peculiar to the case itself, and such as might exist, and have existed, with corresponding effects at all periods, since mankind possessed their present constitution, and the earth and atmosphere their actual properties. A modification of this theory is to be found in that which attributes the disease to atmospheric vicissitudes, solar heat, moisture, and vege- table and animal putrefaction, favored by the circumstances above mentioned, in the individuals acted upon, and by debilitating agents generally. Another and more obscure form in which the same idea is presented, is that of a specific terrestrial miasm, producing the dis- ease in each separate location in which it has shown itself; just as the miasm of marshes produces intermittent fever; which doctrine, so far as it is capable of being distinctly viewed and discussed, resolves itself into those already named. We shall therefore consider all these in one, as the doctrine of the local miasmatic origin of the present disease. It is in the first place to be allowed that this doctrine derives con- firmation from several circumstances, noticed in the principal cities in which the disease made its appearance. In Orenburg, where it broke out as late as the 8th of September, and where it was found impossible to trace with any degree of probability its extrinsic source, it appears that they had wet and cold weather, with rain, following immediately upon an unusually hot summer. It farther appears, by the description of the medical men acquainted with this place, that there exists a pre- disposition to what are called asthenic diseases, that is, diseases of TAc Ckolera. 151 debility; that typhus fever often prevails, and that dropsy is no unfre.. quent termination of febrile disease; evincing a general relaxation in the system, which is in a degree accounted for by their habits. The population are very various in character, and a large proportion, idle and dissolute. In Astrachan the disease first showed itself in the beginning of July, during the prevalence of the high temperature of 950 Fahr. The situation of this city is thus described :The Wolga pours its waters into the Caspian by numerous channels, so flat and low, that they form rather a series of marshes than genuine river outlets. On the alluvial land formed by several of these streams, and at least sixty miles from the actual mouth of the Wolga, the city of Astrachan is built, in a situation so moist, that the atmosphere is loaded with hu- midity, almost all the year round; while its latitude, in 46~ north, exposes it to considerable solar heat, and all the evils arising from the atmospheric changes dependent on heat and moisture. Astrachan is rather more unfavorably situated than either Jessore, Dacca, or any other of the towns in the Delta of the Ganges. In Moscow, the com- mencement of the disease was about the 1st of October, that is, later than the usual causes of cholera could be considered as operating. Yet we are told the weather continued warm and damp. It is also re- marked that the decline of the disease dated from about the 1st of No- vember. These facts are not very decisive. At Warsaw, the disease commenced about the middle of April, after political events which had caused great and general depression. It continued two months, and prevailed principally in narrow lanes leading to the Vistula. Both the city and the Polish camp are described by observers as abounding in causes calculated to produce disease. In the army, the cholera raged after protracted marches, during which the troops were exposed to fa- tigue, privation and hardship. Those regiments suffered most which were encamped between heights or on marshy ground, and whose food consisted of salted pork. When the disease attacked the troops after the battle of Jganic, the men, heated by a long march and a severe engage- ment, drank greedily of the muddy water in the neighborhood. The Polish soldiers, from their mode of life, are peculiarly liable to disease. Slack-baked brown bread and salt meat form the chief part of their food; they drink freely, are filthy in their persons, prone to excess, and, from the nature of the country, are often obliged to encamp in damp and marshy places. Of the dwelling houses in Warsaw, it is said to be impossible to form any idea without having actually seen them. They are gener- ally of wood, small, filled with filth, sometimes built over drains which emit a horrible odor, and occasionally overflowed by the inundations of the Vistula. The habitations of the Jews are worst of all. They are small wooden houses, dark, and with no other opening than the door. The floors are never swept, and are covered with filth to the depth of several inches. These people never wash their persons, scarce ever comb their hair, have no white linen, are generally half starved, and, from time to time, are subjected to increased privation in the performance of religious penance. If from Warsaw we turn our attention to the other seats of the dis- ease in Poland, we shall find circumstances more or less similar to the above, corresponding to the time and place of its attack. About the 15S~ The Cholera. beginning of May, 1831, the disease showed itself in Brodi, a town containing ~24,000 inhabitants, chiefly Jews, of whom scarce 500 were in good circumstances. In this place, no less than 3000, or one eighth of the population, were destroyed. About the middle of this month, Lemberg, the capital of Gallicia, a town situated on the Sane, and containing 45,000 inhabitants, of whom 15,000 were Jews, was attack- ed. The disease continued here nearly three months, during which time it seized 49~ persons, and destroyed ~584. Equally striking examples of the presence of local causes, calculated to produce disease, will be found in the history of cholera in England. In Sunderland, we are told, there are very few streets of proper width. The bye streets are extremely narrow, several not being broad enough for the passage of a common cart; they are rarely cleansed from the dirt, and impurities were allowed to accumulate for several days together. The houses, in these bye streets or lanes, had commonly no yards or courts attached to them; the rooms were dark, ill ventilated, and dirty; the passages and stairs were dirty, from the great number of persons living in each house; very often each room, from the cellars to the attics, was the residence of a separate family. It is also said, in regard to Sunderland, that the disease was almost exclusively confined to the low, dirty, narrow lanes, in thickly populated districts, not more than twelve cases having occurred in the upper and more widely built portion, though the freest intercourse existed between them. The places in England where the disease raged most severely, were Musselburgh, Trunent and Preston Pans. In Musselburgh, typhus fever prevailed among the inhabitants before and during the prevalence of the epidemic. In Preston Pans, it is said, that beggars, colliers, and dissipated persons, formed the majority of the fatal cases. Of the class of persons attacked in Paris, their situation, the previous health of the city, and other circumstances, we have no very particular accounts. It is certain that the state of alarm and suspicions in that city must have been excessive, and these, no doubt, contributed in a very great degree, to the prevalence of the epidemic. The arguments thus far have been drawn from foreign countries. Were it desirable to extend the inquiry to our own we might find not a few facts to confirm this view of the subject. As these, however, are readily accessible, and continue to be topics of public discussion, they would here be misplaced. For information in regard to one of the most remarkable seats of the disease, we refer to the late procla- mation of the Mayor of Montreal, on the subject of nuisances existing in that city. If things are no better in Quebec, than in that city, the fatality of cholera can not be matter of surprise. It is well worthy of remark in this connection, what a degree of im- munity has been enjoyed by maritime towns. While places situated in the interior and on navigable streams have been the favorite objects of attack, the sea-board, in almost all countries, has been nearly exempt. In India, indeed, this difference was much less observable than else- where. But from the period of its quitting Hindostan, it ceased to fol- low the sea-coast, and pursued almost without interruption an inland course. If we except places situate on inland seas, scarce a maritime town will be found to have been invaded subsequently to this period. Poland, in which, of all European countries, its worst ravages were ex The Cholera. 153 hibited, is altogether without sea-coast. In England, the escape of sea-ports was remarked, although the general mildness of the disease in that country rendered this circumstance less conspicuous. In France, Paris was severely affected, while Marseilles, the ancient seat of plague, and the whole coast upon the British channel and the Bay of Biscay, escaped. In fact, with few exceptions, the course of the disease has been along the banks of rivers, and it has been in the parts of the several towns nearest to the stream that the malady has prevail- ed most severely and extensively. Thus, in Sunderland, where the difference in level of the several parts of the town was considerable, the lower portions suffered most severely, while the more elevated were permitted to escape. It may also he noticed as rather favorable to the present view of the subject, that spasmodic cholera has never prevailed alone; that cases of common cholera morbus ~nd of diarrhcea have always been pecul- iarly abundant during its Rrevalence; thus indicatinb that the cause, whatever it might be, which has produced it, is capable of giving rise to more than one form of abdomin 1 disorder, having more or less anal- ogy to it, and such as, in their nearest approach, may easily be mistaken for the disease itself. But the question may he asked, Why, if the local causes which have been mentioned, of the vicinity of fresh water, crowded population, filth, bad diet, and irregular hahits, are so active in producing the dis- ease, why was the cholera so mild throughout England, and why was London so little affected? The question has received v~ rious answers according to the different views of those who have attempted to account for the anomaly. By many, the exemption has been attributed to the use of animal food, which is known to be a more general article of diet in England than on the continent. Others, who place more reliance on atmospheric causes, have noticed that England is the only country where the use of coal for fuel is universal; and hold it reasonable to suppose, that the sulphurous acid, emitted by this substance, and which constitutes, in the case of London, so considerable an ingredient in the atmosphere, has acted the part of a disinfecting agent, and served to neutralize, in a greater or less degree, the various emana- tions from other sources. As local causes, then, which appear to have favored the production of the disease, at least in its march through Europe, may be mentioned sudden changes of temperature, solar heat, emanations from decaying vegetable substances, and atmospheic humidity. As predisposing causes, in the persons attacked, are to be reckoned filth, intemperance, exposure, fear, and mental depression. But the question again recurs, whether the combination of all these can be considered as having pro- duced the disease? It is not necessary, in order to admit the affirma- tive, of this question, that similar causes should be proved heretofore to have been followed by Spasmodic Cholera, though this circumstance would constitute a stro~ g argument in its favor. Neither is it neces- sary to show, that the degree of the disease in difi rent places corres- ponded very precisely to the degree in which these causes themselves were present. As these circumstances are confessedly causes of dis- ease, generally, and most of them in a peculiar manner calculated, as experience shows, to affect the abdominal organs, the fact of thei: VOL. iii. 5?O 154 The Okolera. producing cholera, rather than any other form of disease, presents no great embarrassment. The great point, in which the local theory fails, is in accounting for the apparent progress of the disease; not, indeed, for its progress at a particular angle with the meridian,for, with the exception of the general fact, that it has attacked, in succes- sion, India, Persia, Russia, Poland, England, and France, and is now on this side of the Atlantic, thus indicating a general tendency west- ward,it would be difficult to assign any law of direction by which its erratic course has been guided. The difficulty is to show why, if springing from local causes, it should have been progressive at all, except so far as the causes alleged were equally so, which they cer- tainly have not been to any sensible degree. A something distinct from the ordinary sensible causes of disease, seems to have been con- veyed from place to place; and unless it can be determined with some degree of probability what that something is, and how it has traveled, although other circumstances in respect to the disease be accounted for, its most remarkable and distinctive character remains inexplicable. This consideration brings us to the doctrine of simple atmo- spheric infection, or the conveyance of an original miasm, produced in India, into the different countries which have been successively affect- ed, independently of human intercourse, and equally so of emanations from the bodies of the sick. According to this view, the miasm, which at present produces the disease, is not only similar, but abso- lutely and identically the same with that, which caused its appearance on the banks of the Ganges. Supposing, then, a stratum or body of pestilential atmosphere to have been there generated, it may be con- ceived to have extended itself, either by a gradual diffusion, in virtue of its proper elasticity, or by the assistance of atmospheric currents by which means, singly or united, we may suppose it to have been wafted to an indefinite distance. It is obvious that this theory accords sufficiently well with many of the peculiarties which have been manifested by the disease as, 1. Its apparent pro6ress from place to place. 52. Its appearance in parts of the earth, to which, till within a few months, or years, it had, so far as history or tradition serve to inform us, been wholly unknown before. 3. Its sudden appearance and equally sudden departure in some of the scenes of its attacks, the mortality reaching a maximum in the course of five or six days, and, after a shorter period, rapidly declining; a cir- cumstance, which no other view of the cases serves at all to explain. On the other hand, the objections urged against the supposition in question are not easily removed. They are, 1. The fact so often noticed that, instead of spreading devastation through its whole apparent route the disease passes over several intermediate towns and large tracts of country, leaving them unharmed, to arrive at the place of its destina- tion. 2. Its frequent tendency, after pursuing a certain route, to retrace its steps to a certain extent, and thus seize on places which it had previously spared. 3. The difficulty, on the score of diffusion, of supposing the miasm to spread over so immense a tract without losing its virulence by dilution; and the apparently greater difficulty in regard to the communic tion by wind arising out of the fact that it has often proceeded in a track directly opposite to that of the current prevailing at the time. The Cholera. 155 Some of these objections admit of answers more or less satisfactory. That it has seized some places in preference to others may he ex- plained by differences in the local circumstances, to which we have already referred; the apparent anomaly of a return may be accounted for by the greater slowness with which one place could take the disease than another after being infected. Its apparent progress against the wind may possibly be explained by the supposition of a more constant aerial current in the higher regions of the atmosphere. The greatest objection, perhaps, to this atmospheric theory is to be found in the wide differences which th~. disc ~se has manife ted in its rate of progress. Considered as emanating from India, it was no less than nine years in traversing the distance from Bombay to the fron- tiers of the Russian government,a rate of progress, which, compared with the subsequent celerity of its movements, is perfectly una count- able. To attempt to escape this difficulty by assignin~ to the miasm a more recent origin, would, we fear, only farther complicate the ques- tion and render its solution still more difficult. Wherever the chain is broken the reproduction of the disease must have arisen from local causes, and the union of two causes to produce the sa1~ e effcct is cal- culated to diminish our confidence in both. The only theory, which it now remains to consider, is that of the propagation of the disease by some substance produced by, and eman- ating from, the bodies of the sick. The doctrine of contagion, which this supposition involves, is known to be sustained by the example of many diseases, such as small-pox, measles, scarlet fever, and others. But, it must be allowed, that, if cholera has been communicated by contagion, the laws of this contagion must be widely different from those which it exhibits in the last named diseases. It must, in the first place, be capable of acting at far greater distances, since we find that in a large proportion of instances, in which the disease has ap- peared in a town or city, no action could have taken place from the bodies of the sick, except at a distance which much exceeds the sphere of action of any known contagion. When the first case of cholera occurred in Orenburg, it is not certain that there existed an individual affected with the malady, within the space of 5O() miles; and, when the disease broke out near Quebec, we have no proof that there existed a patient within four times that distance. Still this does not absolutely prove the negative of contagion. The miasm might have diffused itself through the atmosphere to this vast extent; it might have been conveyed in both cases, through a higher stratum of the air, by the wind, as we have supposed, in regard to an original infec- tion; it might have attached itself to the goods of the caravan mer- chants in the one case, or to the clothing of the emigrants, in the other. In regard to the introduction of the disease into Canada, if any case can be shown to have occurred on board the last-arrived vessel, the miasm thus produced, might have been enclosed in the hold, and wafted to the shore on her arrival. Or, finally, the emigrants, though apparently well, might have carried the elements of the disorder within them, which became active on their arrival, and capable of communi- cating the disease to others. Such are only a few of the possible suppositions in regard to contagion; and others might be namedsuch 156 Tk~ Cholera. is the pliability of the doctrine, to suit the circumstances of every case. But, it must be observed, that one circumstance of some im- portance is common to all these suppositions. They all attribute to the contagious principle a very great degree of intensity; that is, they suppose that a very small portion of the miasm, such, for instance, as might be contained in a few hundred feet ofatmospheric air, or held in contact with the surface of as many articles of clothing, might, after being exposed for many days, or even months, to the diluent and dispensive action of a pure atmosphere, retain sufficient energy to cause the disease in an individual, with whose skin or lungs it should happen to come in contact. But the supposition of so intense and penetrating a miasm, is apparently at variance with facts which have been observed during its prevalence at all places on the globe. How, indeed, with such a supposition, can we reconcile the fact, that phy- sicians, nurses, and hospital attendants, have so generally escaped the disease, that its occurrence, in persons so situated, can only he regarded as exceptions? that~ in many places, as in Warsaw, and the towns above named in England, the freest intercourse existed between two parts of a city, in one of which the disease raged with great violence, while the other remained universally healthy? that populous towns on high roads, connecting infected places, have been wholly exempt, while, perhaps, daily communication for weeks together was maintained between them? What are we to think of the numerous experiments performed by the F ench physicians, who exposed themselves in every form and manner which ingenuity could suggest, to both fluid and gaseous matters produced by the disease, yet without any injurious effect? It has been said that these experiments were not satisfactory, because we know not through what avenue the poison may enter the system. Had they been limited to inoculation with the fluids pro- duced, or to the disgusting and absurd act of receiving them into the stomach, there would be some reason in the objection; but as the skin and the surface of the tongue were both freely and sedulously exposed, it is difficult not to regard these experiments, however repre- hensible in themselves, as constituting a strong argument against the theory of contagion. But it is said in reply, that, in the cases where the cause failed to take effect, the predisposition was wanting on the part of the indi- vidual exposed. The miasm then may be compared to a spark, which ill inflame phosphorus or gunpowder, while on ordinary combustibles, it produces no effect. This will serve, no doubt, for the expression of a law, which may apply to the phenomena of the present disease; but, we again observe, that it is not the law of contagion, as we are ac- quainted with it in measles and small-pox. In this view the con- tagious principle of cholera affords a solitary example; the example of a miasm, so feeble as not to produce its specific effects in one out of an hundred of those immediately exposed to it, yet capable of acting, after almost infinite diffusion, on those whom circumstances render the subjects of the disease. On the doctrine of contagion, as thus modified, we shall make but two remarks: 1. That it affords no reason whatever to believe, that the disease can be effectually excluded by means of quarantine regula- tions, from any city or country in which are to be found those, who, by Leaves torn out of a Scrap Book. 157 the circumstances in which they are placed, their habits of life, and the state of their constitutions, are the subjects for its attacks. 2. That it furnishes no apology for the desertion of the sick by friends, or for any backwardness on the part of any to perform their ordinary domestic, social, and political duties, because such duties may lead them into the vicinity of the sick, or oblige them to venture within the supposed range of their morbid influence. In fine, we are obliged to confess, that, in regard to many circum- stances attending the present epidemic, and particularly the general course which it has pursued in its progress over one half the globe, neither of the explanations proposed afford us any satisfaction. We are equally left in doubt, whether, during the remainder of its capri- cious course, it will pursue the same general direction which it has hitherto done; whether, after traversing from East to West the civil- ized part of the American continent, it will plunge at length into the obscurity of our western woods to emerge on the eastern confines of Asiatic Russia; or whether, after some more desultory course, it be destined to lose itself in the waters of the Pacific. One thing is cer- tain,that so far as the laws of cholera are necessary to be known, just so far have they been revealed to us. The measures of individual prudence to guard against its attacks and those of police regulation to remove the local causes which favor its diffusion, are practically the most important subjects iii relation to the disease; and while, in regard to these points, the experience of the past furnishes a rule of conduct for the future, the obscurity which involves t~he origin and nature of the malady is comparatively unimportant. LEAVES TORN OUT OF A SCRAP BOOK. NO. II. I KNOW of nothing more fatal to the best qualities of character, than that sickly misanthropy, which the writings of Lord Byron are so calculated to produce and feed. There are portions of Childe Harold, which, in my opinion, have done as much mischief as even Don Juan. So natural is the connexion between genius and virtue, that impure images seldom dwell long enough in a young and gifted mind, to pro- duce a radical taint; but they are the ones most exposed to the other kind of danger. There is something seductive and flattering to our self-consequence, in a notion that we are visited by peculiar sorrows that common men misunderstand usand that the delicate texture of our minds makes us sorely sensitive to things which the swinish multitude regard with indifference. But if I felt a profound interest in any young man, I would exhort him, if he wished to be worth even the salt he eats, to bruJi away with a vigorous arm these sickly fancies, to cleanse himself of this moral leprosy, ere he become infected to he core. Nothing is more fatal to all that is manly, high-minded,

Leaves Torn out of a Scrap Book. No. II Original Papers 157-159

Leaves torn out of a Scrap Book. 157 the circumstances in which they are placed, their habits of life, and the state of their constitutions, are the subjects for its attacks. 2. That it furnishes no apology for the desertion of the sick by friends, or for any backwardness on the part of any to perform their ordinary domestic, social, and political duties, because such duties may lead them into the vicinity of the sick, or oblige them to venture within the supposed range of their morbid influence. In fine, we are obliged to confess, that, in regard to many circum- stances attending the present epidemic, and particularly the general course which it has pursued in its progress over one half the globe, neither of the explanations proposed afford us any satisfaction. We are equally left in doubt, whether, during the remainder of its capri- cious course, it will pursue the same general direction which it has hitherto done; whether, after traversing from East to West the civil- ized part of the American continent, it will plunge at length into the obscurity of our western woods to emerge on the eastern confines of Asiatic Russia; or whether, after some more desultory course, it be destined to lose itself in the waters of the Pacific. One thing is cer- tain,that so far as the laws of cholera are necessary to be known, just so far have they been revealed to us. The measures of individual prudence to guard against its attacks and those of police regulation to remove the local causes which favor its diffusion, are practically the most important subjects iii relation to the disease; and while, in regard to these points, the experience of the past furnishes a rule of conduct for the future, the obscurity which involves t~he origin and nature of the malady is comparatively unimportant. LEAVES TORN OUT OF A SCRAP BOOK. NO. II. I KNOW of nothing more fatal to the best qualities of character, than that sickly misanthropy, which the writings of Lord Byron are so calculated to produce and feed. There are portions of Childe Harold, which, in my opinion, have done as much mischief as even Don Juan. So natural is the connexion between genius and virtue, that impure images seldom dwell long enough in a young and gifted mind, to pro- duce a radical taint; but they are the ones most exposed to the other kind of danger. There is something seductive and flattering to our self-consequence, in a notion that we are visited by peculiar sorrows that common men misunderstand usand that the delicate texture of our minds makes us sorely sensitive to things which the swinish multitude regard with indifference. But if I felt a profound interest in any young man, I would exhort him, if he wished to be worth even the salt he eats, to bruJi away with a vigorous arm these sickly fancies, to cleanse himself of this moral leprosy, ere he become infected to he core. Nothing is more fatal to all that is manly, high-minded, 1~8 Leaves torn out of a Scrap Book. disinterested, patrioticnothing so certainly makes a man old before his timenothing so soon dries up the springs that keep the inner world green, as this deceased habit of imagining that we, in our indi- vidual persons, are exceptions to the benevolent plan of Gods universe, and that we are so constituted as invariably and unavoidably to extract bitterness from that which is the source of joy to all others. Such a man might as well pass his life in fasting and self-scourgings in the cell of a convent. He who would do good to otherswhich is the only thing worth livitrg formust have an entire sympathy with his whole race, and must consider his individual distinctions as nothing in comparison with that vast heritage of joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, which he shares equally with all his brethren of the human fam- ily. Wherever he sees a human being, he should be ready to say of him That man is my brother, however he may be stained by sin, or darkened by ignorance, or brutalized by vulgar and sensual habits. The famous passage in Manfred, beginning From my youth upwards, My spirit walked not with the sons of men, & e. which contains the creed of the man-hating, self-worshiping school, is as untrue in a philosophical point of view, as it is pernicious in sen- timent. No man ever wore the form, that had no sympathy with human flesh, except it were from his own fault. THE habit of making resolutions does not seem to me indicative of great strength of character; but rather the contrary. It seems as if a person distrusted his own native power of doing or refraining to do, and called in the aid of a resolve, which he felt a superstitious fear of violating. Resolutions may be called the go-carts of an infant and tottering virtue. HE who derives from his pride, consolation for sorrows and disap- pointments, is in the situation of a man who leans upon the point of a spearit pierces, while it supports him. MONTHLY RECORD. AUGUST, 1832. POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. CONGRESS. United States Bank. The bill tomodify and extend the charter of the United States bank, having passed both Houses of Congress and been sent to the Presi- dent for his signature, was, on the 10th of July, returned by the President to the Senate, the House in which it orig- inated, accompanied by a message, stat- ing the reasons which had operated to induce him to place his veto on the bill. The National Intelligencer gave the following epitome of the arguments in the message, which may be relied on as a faithful abstract The message sets out with a de- claration that the President devoted the Fourth of July to an examination of the bill, considering the case as one pecul- iarly suitable to the day, and that he had come to the conclusion that it ought not to become a law, and there- fore returned it to the Senate with his objections. The convenience of the Bank, in many points of view, is admitted; but the assertion follows that it is an insti- tution liable to be perverted to very in- jurious purposes: that hence arose all the objections which he had repeatedly expressed to the renewal of its charter; and that in the modifications of the orig- inal charter, which the new bill con- tained, he saw nothing which could have the effect of making the Bank more consss~ent with the genius of our country, and the true interests of the people. The present bank, the Presi- dent says, has been in existence nearly twenty years, in which time it has ob- tained an entire monopoly of the Do- mestic Exchange; and by the elevation of its stock greatly beyond its par value, it has thrown many millions into the hands of a few individuals holding the stock of this bank. The bill proposes an additional gratuity to these same in- dividuals of seven or eight millions7 since, as the President reasons, the pas- sage of the law continuing the charter must have the effect of increasing the value of the stock at least one fourth beyond what it now is. This gratuity is not given to American citizens alone above eight millions of the stock be- ing in the hands of foreigners, the gra- tuity is, of course, extended to them. The message then goes into a view of the character and effect of monopo- lies in general, and contends against the constitutionality and the expediency of granting the money monopoly to the same persons, who are exclusively of the wealthy, to the exclusion of all other citizens of the United States, some of whom had offered to establish a bank on more favorable terms to the people. The justice of this distinction, the message says, is not apparent. If favors are to be distributed, all ought to be participators. It had been alleged, the message goes on to say, that the calling in of the loans of the bank would be productive of great distress. In case the manage- ment of the bank had been wise, the message insists, that no distress could ensue from the calling in of the loans; and if distress does ensue, the inference is drawn that this fact would be proof of mismanagement in the administra- tion of the bank. It is then insisted that at no time could the affairs of the in- stitution be brought to a close with less distress to the country than at this time. In the modifications which had been adopted, it is contended that a few trifling changes only, had been made, while all the odious features of the orig- inal charter had been retained. In par- ticular, the message objects to the sec- tion which gives state banks a prefer- ence over individuals, in the payment of branch notes in liquidation of debts due to the bank, as forming a bond of

Politics and Statistics Monthly Record 159-165

MONTHLY RECORD. AUGUST, 1832. POLITICS AND STATISTICS. UNITED STATES. CONGRESS. United States Bank. The bill tomodify and extend the charter of the United States bank, having passed both Houses of Congress and been sent to the Presi- dent for his signature, was, on the 10th of July, returned by the President to the Senate, the House in which it orig- inated, accompanied by a message, stat- ing the reasons which had operated to induce him to place his veto on the bill. The National Intelligencer gave the following epitome of the arguments in the message, which may be relied on as a faithful abstract The message sets out with a de- claration that the President devoted the Fourth of July to an examination of the bill, considering the case as one pecul- iarly suitable to the day, and that he had come to the conclusion that it ought not to become a law, and there- fore returned it to the Senate with his objections. The convenience of the Bank, in many points of view, is admitted; but the assertion follows that it is an insti- tution liable to be perverted to very in- jurious purposes: that hence arose all the objections which he had repeatedly expressed to the renewal of its charter; and that in the modifications of the orig- inal charter, which the new bill con- tained, he saw nothing which could have the effect of making the Bank more consss~ent with the genius of our country, and the true interests of the people. The present bank, the Presi- dent says, has been in existence nearly twenty years, in which time it has ob- tained an entire monopoly of the Do- mestic Exchange; and by the elevation of its stock greatly beyond its par value, it has thrown many millions into the hands of a few individuals holding the stock of this bank. The bill proposes an additional gratuity to these same in- dividuals of seven or eight millions7 since, as the President reasons, the pas- sage of the law continuing the charter must have the effect of increasing the value of the stock at least one fourth beyond what it now is. This gratuity is not given to American citizens alone above eight millions of the stock be- ing in the hands of foreigners, the gra- tuity is, of course, extended to them. The message then goes into a view of the character and effect of monopo- lies in general, and contends against the constitutionality and the expediency of granting the money monopoly to the same persons, who are exclusively of the wealthy, to the exclusion of all other citizens of the United States, some of whom had offered to establish a bank on more favorable terms to the people. The justice of this distinction, the message says, is not apparent. If favors are to be distributed, all ought to be participators. It had been alleged, the message goes on to say, that the calling in of the loans of the bank would be productive of great distress. In case the manage- ment of the bank had been wise, the message insists, that no distress could ensue from the calling in of the loans; and if distress does ensue, the inference is drawn that this fact would be proof of mismanagement in the administra- tion of the bank. It is then insisted that at no time could the affairs of the in- stitution be brought to a close with less distress to the country than at this time. In the modifications which had been adopted, it is contended that a few trifling changes only, had been made, while all the odious features of the orig- inal charter had been retained. In par- ticular, the message objects to the sec- tion which gives state banks a prefer- ence over individuals, in the payment of branch notes in liquidation of debts due to the bank, as forming a bond of Politics and Statistics. union among the state banks, erecting them into a dangerous monopoly. The message also takes exception to the section which compels the President and Directors of the bank to furnish, at the call of a state, a list of the stock- holders resident in that state, for the purpose of taxation. It complains of this as aiding in the imposition of a tax of one per cent. on the stock of citizens, while the foreigner holds his stock free from this tax, and his stock is thus ren- dered more productive than that of our own citizens. The message then goes on to argue that a great portion of the capital of the country was annually drawn off to pay the dividends to foreigners; and that, while this system was continued, the country could not be safe in war, or prosperous in peace. It regards this money power, resting in the hands of aliens, as more dangerous to the country than military kostility. The stock, it says, ought to be purely in the hands of Americans; and it is asserted th t two hundred millions could be obtained at once among American citizens as a sub- scription to a bank, such as ought to be established. There is no occasion, it contends, to send abroad in search of capital. The arguments in favor of the bank which have reference to precedents, the message repudiates, regarding pre- cedents as unsafe rules of legislation. One Congress refuses to charter a bank, and another grants a charter. Here the precedents are equal. And as to state banks, the message assumes that they are in the proportion offour against, to one in favor of the present bank. The independence of the co-ordinate branch of the government, the Executive, is asserted; it is treated as having the same amount of independence as Con- gress possess in reference to the Su- preme Court. The Executive is main- tained to be equally free from depend- ence, either on Congress, or the Su- preme Court. From these views, the message goes into an argument on the unconstitu- tionality of the bank. It is further as- serted, that the existing bank is not necessary for the riurposes of the gov- ernment. The old bank, with a capital of ten millions, answered all its pur- poses, and therefore the present bank, having a capital of thirty-five millions, is invested with an influence to the amount of twenty-five millions more than was necessary. Some further views are thro~vn out, as to the right of the states to tax, in which it is insisted that the branches of the United States Bank has no more claim to exemption than state banks. It is further suggested, that the effect of these objections would be to excite discussion, and to elicit new light from the people. A new Congress will be elected, and a more equal rep- resentation of the people be obtained, before the expiration of the term of the present charter. It is also held up as an unconstitutional act for this Con- gress to bind up the hands of its suc- cessors. The message adverts to the sus- picions afloat as to the mal-administra- tion of the bank, and to the opinion of a majority of the committee in favor of a postponement of the question. The bank, it is asserted, ought to have so much regard to its own honor, as to have come forward, of its own motion, withdrawn its memorial, and thus pass- ed the measure over to another session. The conclusion, is merely a refer- ence to the distinctions created among men, by education, learning, virtue, and industry; and it is declared that every effort of government, to introduce other distinctions, is injurious; and that gov- ernment should only be felt by its mu- nificent operations on men. The true strength of the government, it is said, consists in leaving individuals and states to themselves. Having done his duty in stating these objections, the President says, if he should be sustained by the voice of his fellow-citizens, he shall feel grateful and happy. if not, he should look for consolation to his own motives, where he would find sufficient to support him in the views which he had thrown out. On the day following, when the mes- sage came up for consideration, Mr. Webster took the floor, and in a speech of something more than an hour in length, examined and commented upon the contents of the message. We ob- tain from the source before mentioned, the following sketch of his speech Mr. Webster said, it appeared to him that we are now approaching a crisis, not only equally dangerous, but equally likely to be embarrassing, disastrous, and distressing, as any that has occur- red under this government. It was now certain, that, with out a change in the public councils, the charter of the Bank of the United States would be suffered to expire, by its own limitation. Within three years and nine months, (the remainder of its term) arrange- ments would have to be made for calling in its debts, withdrawing its 16Q Politics and Statistics. 161 notes from circulation, and ceasing its operations. All this would have to be done within that period; for, although, by its charter, provision was made for allowing it further time for the collec- tion of its debts, & c. yet, after the ex- piration of its term, it can issue no new paper, nor answer any of the pur- poses of a bank of discount. He said it behooved all who were interested in public affairs, without exaggeration on the one side, or delusion on the other, to prepare themselves to meet the cri- sis. He then went on to show the great importance of the present ques- tion, more especially to the states con- nected with the waters of the Missis- sippi, within whose limits, thirty mill- ions of active capital had been fur- nished for business by the bank. He drew a picture of the consequences likely to flow from all this facility being withdrawn within four years, and of the deep distress which must inevitably follow its withdrawal. To the people of the United States, he said, it was now plainly put, whether in one way, and in one way only, (for the message left no alternative) this evil was to be avoided. Mr. Webster then proceeded with some remarks upon the Presidents objections to the bill. The first which he adverted to, was the objection to the application of the bank for the renewal of its char- ter, on the ground that it was prema- ture. So far from this objection being a just one, he said that the time of the application was the latest day at which the Bank could, with any justice to the public, or any regard to the interest of the stockholders, come forward, if the question, whether its charter was to be renewed or not, was at all doubtful. After adverting to the undoubted right of Congress to exercise a discretion as to the time at which they would act upon this subject, he said it was neither Congress nor the bank that had first agitated the question; for that the Executive had not only once, but twice and thrice, called on Congress to act upon the subject. He argued that it could not be premature, in 1835, to do that which the President had invited them to do as far back as December, 1829, & c. There was another point of view, in which, he said, this remark might have been spared; he meant in reference to those states of the Union extremely interested in this measure, and which had instructed, unanimously, their representatives, not only to vote for the renewal of the charter of the bank, but to vote for it now, at this VOL. HI. 21 present session. But, he added, why disguise the fact? This was a question on which it was very interesting to all the people to know what were the opinions of the public servants. The time had come, when the people had a right to know, how their servants, from the highest to the lowest, intended to act upon this matter. It was, there- fore, proper that the subject should be acted upon at the present session. The result proved it. No one could doubt, after reading this message, that the question had been agitated not a moment too early. The election of a Chief Magistrate was about to take place; a doubt had existed as to what was the opinion of the present Chief Magistrate upon this subject: was it not fit, proper, and expedient, that that doubt should be resolved? In this view, the message, he said, so far from proving the application of the bank at this session to have been premature, carried on its face the proof of its being indispensable. The very fact of the constitutional objections of the Presi- dent to the bank, and that, under his auspices, no such bank could ever be re-chartered or created, demonstrated the necessity of action upon it at the present session. He touched, also, upon another suggestion of the mes- sage in relation to the prematurity of the application; which was, that it would be the fault of the bank if its affairs were not wound up within the period of its charter. This, he said, would be impossible, unless the bank were governed by angels instead of men. If the interest paid by the peo- ple of the western states was as heavy a drain upon them as represented by the message, how much heavier a drain, he argued, would that be, which, within four years, would draw from them, not only this interest, but the principal upon which the interest was paid ? He enlarged upon the circum- stances of the western country, which made money more valuable there than in the Atlantic states, and on the dis- tress which would be produced by withdrawing from them seven and a half millions of dollars a year, for which they were now paying but six per cent. interest to the Bank of the United States, upon the substitute for which capital they would have to pay a much higher rate of interest, & c. Mr. Webster then proceeded to re- view the objections of a constitutional nature contained in the message; the different parts of which, he intimated, were evidently from different hands 16~ He entered into an argment on the several points made in the message, to show that they were either unfounded, unsound, or untenable. In this constitu- tional disquisition, some things were res- pectable, and some were new. Those which were respectable, he said, were not new; and those that were new, he left it to be inferred that he considered not very respectable. He examined and refuted the argument drawn from prece- dent, which he maintained was decid- edly on the side of the bank, instead of being against it. He protested against the doctrines of the message, on the subject of the independence claimed for different branches of the Government, pronouncing, without reservation, that, if you take away the power of the Supreme Court, to. decide whether a law of Congress, brought before them, is according to the constitution or. not, you subvert the government; you take away the last guardthe last rampart of defence of your political and civil rights; the legislative discretion stands unrestrained and unrestricted. You are brought within the predicament which Mr. Jefferson so much depre- cated; you have got ridof unrestrained legislation abroad, to have it fastened upon you at home, & c. In regard to the bank question, the whole action of the Government, of the Executive, under every President till now, of every Congress, and of the Supreme Court, had recognized the constitutionality of the charter of this, as well as of the old bank, & c. Mr. Webster then dwelt at some length, on other positions of the mes- sage, which he considered untenable; such, for instance, as that one Congress cannot bind its successors, and that every thing contained in any bill passed by Congress, that was not absolutely necessary, as some features of the bank charter was said not to be, was uncon- stitutional. The absurdity of this last notion, he illustrated by a reference to the code of criminal law established by Congress under the general power to establish post-offices and post-roads; under which, capital punishments were authorized, which might have been dis- pensed with, by substituting other pun- ishments for them, and which, there- fore, not being necessary, would be, under the doctrines of the message, unconstitutional. There was no power, indeed, in the bank charter, he argued, which might not be substituted by some other of equivalent effect, and which was not, therefore, according to the sense of the message, unconstitu- tional. Mr. Webster next examined the ob- jections, so often repeated, to the pres- ent bank, on the ground of its being a monopoly, and showed that it could not, in any sense of the term, be prop- erly so called. He then went into an argument to show the fallacy of the other objection which had been made, to foreigners being stockholders in the bank; which, he said, instead of putting us in their power, so far as it goes, puts them in ours. The ten millions which they bold in the stock of the bank, so far as it had any effect, (small, indeed, it must be) was a hostage in our hands, favorable to our peace and prosperity. He then very seriously deprecated the effect of this denunciation, from such high authority, of the holding by for- eigners of stock in American funds. He adverted to the canal stocks of sev- eral of the statesof Ohio, of Penn- sylvania, of New-York, the prices of which were every day quoted on the London Exchange, and which might be seriously affected, to the injury of the interests of these states, by this sweeping denunciation, if not counter- acted. He ridiculed the idea of such investments of their funds in our stocks by foreigners, being dangerous to lib- erty, which he regarded as mere de- clamation, & c. After adverting to some other parts of the message, he dwelt, with great force and some severity, upon that part of the message which states, as an objection to the bank on the part of the execu- tive, that neither upon the propriety of present action, nor upon the provisions of this act, was the Executive consult- ed. If Congress had not consulted the Executive, he said, the Executive had consulted them; for the President had called their attention, three years ago, in most emphatic terms, to the subject of the renewal of the charter of the bank, and afterwards recommended to them to establish a bank, of which the prominent features were, that it was to have neither property, debt, loans, nor credit! After touching on some other points, Mr. Webster said the time had come, when we tread on the very edge of a precipice of disaster, general distrust, want of sound and safe currency; when the day was advancing which this bank had put, once put an end to, and which he had hoped never to see again. It was time that the people should awake to their danger, to a Politics a~d & atistics. Politics and Statistics. aense of which he thought this last warning would not fail to arouse them. Mr. White, of Tennessee, replied to Mr. Webster, and vindicated the course of the President. The debate was con- tinued occasionally, by Messrs. Clay, Holmes, and others, until Friday the 13th, when the question was put, whether the bill should become a law, the Presidents objections to the con- trary notwithstanding ? and was de- ulded in the negative, as follows (two thirds being necessary to carry a measure against the executive veto.) YEAsMessrs. Buckner, Chambers, Clay, Clayton, Dallas, Foot, Freliogheysen, Hen- dricks, Holmes, Johnston, Poindexter, Prentiss, Robbins, Robinson, Ruggles, Seymour, Silsbee, Sprague, Tipton, Tomlinson, Webster, Wil- kins22. NAYSMessrs. Benton, Bibb, Brown, Dud- ley, Ellis, Forsyth, Grundy, Hayne, Hill, Kane, King, Mangum, Marcy, Miller, Moore, Taze- well, Troop, Tyler, White19. Internal Improvements. A bill passed making appropriations for the prosecu- tion of internal improvements. The following are the most important items. For the Delaware Breakwater, - 270,000 the sea wall at Deer island, -60,000 the pier and mole at Oswego, N. Y. 19,000 improving Big Sodus Bay, N. Y. 17,1100 Genesee River, N. V. - - 16 000 Ocracock Inlet, N. C. - - 22,000 Cape Fear River, N. C. - - 28,000 Ohio, Missouri, and MississippI, 50,000 the Arkansas river, - - - 15 000 the Cumberland river, - - 30,000 Savannah river, - - - - 25,000 expense of surveys under Act 1824, 30,000 repairs of Cumberland Road (East) 150,000 bridges on road to Mars I-till, (Me.) 21,000 Little Rock and Memphis Road, (Arkansas,) - - - 20,000 continuing Cumberland Road in Ohio, 100,000 Ibe same road in Indiana, - - 100 000 the same road in Illinois, - - 70 000 roads in Michigan, - - - 40 000 Saltmanufactured and imported. The annexed facts are abridged from a speech of Mr. Reed of Massachusetts, made in the House of Representatives, June 20, on a motion to reduce the duty on salt from ten to five cents a bushel. In July, 1776, in the continental Congress, a committee of thirteen, one from each state, was instructed to in- quire, in the recess of Congress, into the easiest and cheapest method of making salt in these colonies. Dec. 29, 1776, It was Resolved, That it be earnestly recommended to the several Assemblies or Conventions, immediately to promote, by sufficient public encouragement, the making salt in their respective colonies. June 3d, 1777, Resolved, That a committee of three be appointed to de vise ways and means for supplying the United States with salt. June 13, 1777, Resolved, That it be recommended to the several states, to erect and encourage, in the most liberal and effectual manner, proper works for the making of salt. The country suffered severely for the want of salt during the revolution. The national debt was greatly enhanced by the extravagant and unavoidable price paid for salt during the war, and the expense of its transportation. When the present government was formed, one of the first acts of taxation laid a duty on salt. It has, with the exception of a few years, been ever since centinued. The manufactures have commenced and grown up under the solicitations and encouragement of our Government. On the sea board about $2,000,000 capital has been in- vested in manufacturing salt of sea water, by solar evaporation, and about 600,000 bushels of best alum salt is yearly manufactured in more than 1500 establishments, owned by as many per- sons. In the interior, salt is still more easily manufactured from the springs. At the present time salt-is manufactur- ed in twenty-two states. We manu- factured, the last season, -4,38~7,510 bushels. We manufactured-more than we imported. These numerous manu- factories on the sea-board and in the interior, distributed through the coun- try, furnishing more than half the salt used, are competitors with eacla other, and competitors with the importers of foreign salt. This competition is cer- tain to secure the country against odi- ous monopolies, which were justly com- plained of in former times. A Tabular view of the quantity of salt imported into the different States and Territories of the United States, dur- ing the calendar year 1829, furnished from the Treasury Department. States. Maine, - - New-Hampshire, - Vermont, - - Massach,,setts, Rhode-tsland, - Connecticut, - - New-York, - - Pennsylvania, - Maryland, - - District of Columbia, Virginia, - - - North-Carolina, - South-Carolina, - Georgia, - - - Florida, - - - Alabansa, - - Louisiana, - - Aggregate, Bsrshels. - - - 453,022 - - - 249,599 - - - 1,701 - - - 1,032,083 - - - 94,833 - - - 174,053 - - - 1,374,763 - - 609,252 - - - 505 146 - - - 194,667 - - - 293,693 - - - - 392,t07 - - - 376,367 - - - 361,173 - - - 6922 - - - 125,986 - - - 318,283 6,494,370 103 Politics and ,Statistics. Importations of salt at the places in the year 1831. Passamaquoddy, - - Frenchmans Bay, - - Penobscot, - - - - Belfast, - - Waldoborough, - - - VViscasset, Bath Portland, - - - - Kennebunk, - - - Portsmouth, - - - Vermont, - - - - Newbnryport, - - - Gloucester, - - Salem, - - - New-Bedford, - - - Digliton, - - - - Plymouth, - - - - Marblehead, - - - Boston, - - - Providence, - - - Bristol, - - Newport, - - - - Middletown, - - New-London, - - - New-Haven, - - - Fairfield, - - - - Champlain, - - - Oswegatchie, - - - New-York, - - - Bridgetown, - - - Philadelphia, - - - Delaware, - - - Baltimore, Vienna, - - - - Georgetown, - - - Alexandria, - - Richmond, - - - Petersburg, - - - Norfolk, - - - - Camden, - - - - Edenton, - - - Plymouth, - - - - Washington, - - - Newberts, - - - Beanfort, - - - - Wilmington, - Charleston, - - - Savannah, - . - Mobile, - - - - Key West, - - - Apalachicola, - - - Saint Marks, - - - New-Orleans, - - - Brunswick, - - - following - - 13,169 - - 2,833 - 29690 - 17942 - - 16,300 - - 28,304 - - 127,937 - - 233,369 - - 4,287 - - 197,952 - - 9,552 - - 48,619 - - 13,702 - - 20,824 - 24,183 - - 6,766 - - 48,648 - - 9754 - 444,719 - - 79,345 - - 4,009 - 3,192 - - 30,723 - - 10,785 - 60,728 - - 4,339 879 - 15 - - 655,514 - - 5,435 - - 227,502 - - 5,721 - - 222,098 - - 4,326 - - 304 - - 43,241 - - 116,238 - - 52,113 - - 132,193 - - 22,688 - - 17,819 - - 15,549 - 5,891 - 16,272 - - 2,551 - - 31,195 - 372,055 - - 275,699 - 231,118 - - 4,811 - - 550 - - 6,124 - - 526,402 - - 8,027 Bushels, 4,494,006 Gross duty at 15 cents per bushel, $674,100 90. T. L. SMITH, Register. TuzAsuav DESAaTMENT, Registers Office, 7th June, 1832. The Tarcff. The passage of the new tariff was one of the last important acts of the session. The history of its pro- gress and the attending circumstances and debates would form an interesting volume, and will not, of course, be ex- pected in these brief monthly abstracts. The bill reduces the duties on various articles of importation, and yet, is said by its friends to recognize the principle of protection to all important branches of domestic industry. Its most impor- tant features are, the abolition of mini- mums on woollen goodsthe establish- ing of cash duties, instead of the pro- tracted credits heretofore existingand the change in the legal value of the pOllnd-Stttrlillg, which is now fixed at four dollars and eighty cents, instead of four dollars and forty-four cents. The law will go into operation on the 3d of March, 1833. Day of Humiliation. A resolution was introduced into the Senate by Mr. Clay, and afterwards passed that body, requesting the President to appoint a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer, in consequence of the appearance of the Cholera in this country. In the House of Representatives the resolution un- derwent considerable discussion, and two or three modifications. It failed, after being so changed in its substance as to make the recommendation the act of the two Houses of Congress, without calling upon the President on the sub- ject. It was laid on the table, on mo- tion of Mr. Adams of Massachusetts. Patents. An act concerning Patents and Useful Inventions makes it the duty of the Secretary of State, annually, in the month of January, to report to Congress, and to publish in two of the newspapers printed in the city of Wash- ington, a list of all the patents for dis- coveries, inventions, and improvements, which shall have expired within the year immediately preceding, with the names of the patentees, alphabetically arranged. Application to Congress to prolong or renew the term of a patent, shall be made before its expiration, and shall be notified at least once a month for at least three months before its pre- sentation, in two newspapers in which the laws of the United States shall be published in the state or territory in which the patentee shall reside. The petition shall set forth particularly the grounds of the application. It shall be verified by oath; the evidence in its support may be taken before any judge or justice of the peace; it shall be ac- companied by a statement of the ascer- tained value of the discovery, inven- tion, or improvement, and of the receipts and expenditures of the patentee, so as to exhibit the profit or loss arising therefrom. The act also provides that whenever a patent shall be invalid or inoperative, by reason of inadvertence, accident or mistake, and without any fraudulent or deceptive intention, the Secretary of State may cause a new patent to be granted for the residue of the unexpired period of the original patent, & c. adjournment. The session of Con- gress closed on Monday, July 16, at eight oclock in the mornlng. 164 106 LITERARY NOTICES. History of the late Polish Revolu- tion, and the Events of the Campaign. By Joseph Hordynski, Major of the late Tenth Regiment of Lithnanian Lancers. We believe that there is no Ameri- can who did not take a deep interest in the late glorious, though unsuccessful, struggle of the Poles for freedom. Their cause was the cause of mankind; their revolt might be considered an operation of that system which our own fathers set in motion, and their chival. rous character was an irresistible claim upon our sympathies. Every one wish- ed them success; every one desired to see the effects of Muscovite tyranny circumscribed. The book before us, if it be a true record of facts, as we doubt not it is, proves that our esteem for the Poles and our abhorrence of despotism were equally well founded. The history of the late Polish Revo- lution, cannot be said to be well writ- ten, as far as mere style is concerned. There are, however, many allowances to be made for this defect. The author and his editor were obliged to commu- nicate with each other in a language foreign to both. The original Polish manuscript was first translated by the author into French, with which he was not perfectly acquainted, and was then rendered into English by several dif- ferent persons, one of whom was a foreigner. The author could not read his work in its new dress, and there were other circumstances, not attribut- able to the editor, which prevented him front correcting what was amiss. These facts being considered, it is not wonder- ful that the work contains many slips in grammar and verbal errors. These, however, do not hinder it from being in a very high degree instructive and in- teresting. Till now, we have had no continuous account of the Polish rev- olution, or any means of accounting for its failure. This book supplies the deficiency. The author was an eye- witness of, and an actor in, what he describes, lie shows, indeed, a lauda- ble partiality for his compatriots, and a strong dislike of the Russians; but we are satisfied, that what he sets down as fact, may be confidently received as such. His manner of relating events is bold, spirited and concise. There is no amplification, no waste of words in his book, and we are sure that no one will ever yawn over it. According to Major Hordynski, the oppression which the Poles endeavored to throw off, was dreadful beyond any thing we have ever imagined. A bru- tal savage, bore unlimited sway over Poland. All offices under him were filled by Russians, or such Poles as merited the abhorrence of their coun- trymen. Such officers of the Polish army as were displeasing to the Grand Duke, were treated with extraordinary severity, and many escaped from the tyrant by suicide. The privates, who had hitherto been governed by the sense of honor, were now directed in their motions by the knout, like the slave-born Russians. The liberty of the press was abolished, and a terrible system of espionage substituted in its stead. There were nine hundred spies in Warsaw alone. The citizens were arrested on the bare word of a vile spy, and condemned without trial or hear- ing. No expense or pains were spared to corrupt the nation. The fountains of moral and social life were poisoned, or choked up. No man dared to speak freely to his most intimate friend, for Russian gold had made it dangerous to have a friend. Foreigners were em- ployed as informers, and even women, who were accounted ladies, were bribed to report the words and deeds of their nearest and dearest friends. The wor- thiest sons of Poland were daily cast into dungeons on the slightest pretences, and, will it be believed ?married wo- men were incarcerated for repelling the criminal advances of Russian Generals. The most ruinous monopolies were granted to individual favorites, and the whole land groaned under a general system of extortion. Such was the ty- ranny which the Poles at last rose to resist. Greatas their wrongs were, the Poles showed a moderation of which there is no other example in history. They not only spared the Grand Dukes life, but suffered him to depart, though they might easily have made prisoners of him and his army. They gave quarter to the Russian troops who opposed them in arms. Two only of the Polish of- ficers who proved faithless to their country, fell by the popular indigna- tion. Persons and property were re- ligiously respected. No individual was molested unnecessarily, nor was any private house or shop forcibly en- tered. Ladies sat at the windows by which the insurgent troops were march- ing without fear or danger. What makes this forbearance more remark-

History of the late Polish Revolution, and the Events of the Campaign. By Joseph Hordynski, Major of the late Tenth Regiment of Lithuanian Lancers Literary Notices 165-167

106 LITERARY NOTICES. History of the late Polish Revolu- tion, and the Events of the Campaign. By Joseph Hordynski, Major of the late Tenth Regiment of Lithnanian Lancers. We believe that there is no Ameri- can who did not take a deep interest in the late glorious, though unsuccessful, struggle of the Poles for freedom. Their cause was the cause of mankind; their revolt might be considered an operation of that system which our own fathers set in motion, and their chival. rous character was an irresistible claim upon our sympathies. Every one wish- ed them success; every one desired to see the effects of Muscovite tyranny circumscribed. The book before us, if it be a true record of facts, as we doubt not it is, proves that our esteem for the Poles and our abhorrence of despotism were equally well founded. The history of the late Polish Revo- lution, cannot be said to be well writ- ten, as far as mere style is concerned. There are, however, many allowances to be made for this defect. The author and his editor were obliged to commu- nicate with each other in a language foreign to both. The original Polish manuscript was first translated by the author into French, with which he was not perfectly acquainted, and was then rendered into English by several dif- ferent persons, one of whom was a foreigner. The author could not read his work in its new dress, and there were other circumstances, not attribut- able to the editor, which prevented him front correcting what was amiss. These facts being considered, it is not wonder- ful that the work contains many slips in grammar and verbal errors. These, however, do not hinder it from being in a very high degree instructive and in- teresting. Till now, we have had no continuous account of the Polish rev- olution, or any means of accounting for its failure. This book supplies the deficiency. The author was an eye- witness of, and an actor in, what he describes, lie shows, indeed, a lauda- ble partiality for his compatriots, and a strong dislike of the Russians; but we are satisfied, that what he sets down as fact, may be confidently received as such. His manner of relating events is bold, spirited and concise. There is no amplification, no waste of words in his book, and we are sure that no one will ever yawn over it. According to Major Hordynski, the oppression which the Poles endeavored to throw off, was dreadful beyond any thing we have ever imagined. A bru- tal savage, bore unlimited sway over Poland. All offices under him were filled by Russians, or such Poles as merited the abhorrence of their coun- trymen. Such officers of the Polish army as were displeasing to the Grand Duke, were treated with extraordinary severity, and many escaped from the tyrant by suicide. The privates, who had hitherto been governed by the sense of honor, were now directed in their motions by the knout, like the slave-born Russians. The liberty of the press was abolished, and a terrible system of espionage substituted in its stead. There were nine hundred spies in Warsaw alone. The citizens were arrested on the bare word of a vile spy, and condemned without trial or hear- ing. No expense or pains were spared to corrupt the nation. The fountains of moral and social life were poisoned, or choked up. No man dared to speak freely to his most intimate friend, for Russian gold had made it dangerous to have a friend. Foreigners were em- ployed as informers, and even women, who were accounted ladies, were bribed to report the words and deeds of their nearest and dearest friends. The wor- thiest sons of Poland were daily cast into dungeons on the slightest pretences, and, will it be believed ?married wo- men were incarcerated for repelling the criminal advances of Russian Generals. The most ruinous monopolies were granted to individual favorites, and the whole land groaned under a general system of extortion. Such was the ty- ranny which the Poles at last rose to resist. Greatas their wrongs were, the Poles showed a moderation of which there is no other example in history. They not only spared the Grand Dukes life, but suffered him to depart, though they might easily have made prisoners of him and his army. They gave quarter to the Russian troops who opposed them in arms. Two only of the Polish of- ficers who proved faithless to their country, fell by the popular indigna- tion. Persons and property were re- ligiously respected. No individual was molested unnecessarily, nor was any private house or shop forcibly en- tered. Ladies sat at the windows by which the insurgent troops were march- ing without fear or danger. What makes this forbearance more remark- 166 able, Is, that the whole populace seem to have been excited to a degree of en- thusiasm, which could not have admit- ted of increase. They fell upon very superior bodies of Russian regulars with their bayonets, without the smallest hesitation. Clergymen, women and children, took up arms. After the first successes, the multitude kneeled down in the street, as one man, and swore to liberate Poland or die. In about twelve hours they had entirely cleared the cap- ital of the Russian army. But, let the author himself relate an instance of this enthusiasm. The persons here men- tioned, were two of the Grand Dukes Polish officers, who had persuaded their troops not to take part in the insurrec- tionary movement. Early on the third of December, when the Grand Duke had resolved to depart, he visited these troops in person, and declared before them that he left Warsaw only to avoid useless bloodshed, and that order would soon he restor- ed. He requested them to go with him, as they were regiments of guards, in whom the emper- or had peculiar confidence. Soldiers, he said, will you go with us; or stay and unite with those who have proved faithless to their sovereign ? With one voice the whole corps exclaimed We will remainwe will join our brethren and fight for the liberty, of our country. We are sorry that we could not do so from the heginning, but we were deceived. The people who had asseombled to gaze at these unfortunate men, with unfavorable and unjust feelings toward them, were disarmed of their resentment at the very sight of them, and rushed into their embraces. They were sur- rounded by the multitude, and taken, with joy- ful acclamations to time Place of the Bank. But though the people forgave the soldiers, their indignation remained unabated against their generals, and the greatest efforts of the leading patriots were required to save Krasynski and Kornatowski from their rage. It was dreadful to behold these generals riding with downcast looks, not daring to look on those whom they had intended to betray. Death would certain- ly have been preferable to thus meeting the curses of a justly incensed people. Mothers held up their children, and, pointing at the two generals, exclaimed, See the traitors ! Ar- riving at the Bank, the people demanded that Krasynski and Kornatowski should give their reasons for having acted as they had done; and as the wretched men could say nothing in their own defence, a general cry arose of Death to the traitors ! Nothing but the love of the peo- ple for Chlopicki and Schembeck who interced- ed, could have hindered them from carrying their wishes into immediate execution. Sev- eral excited individuals made their way toward the culprits with pistols in their hands, and, after aiming at them, fired their weapons into the air, crying, You are unworthy of a shot from a Polish hand. Liveto be everlasti gly tortured by your consciences ! The unfortu- nate men entreated that they might be permit- ted to serve in the ranks, as privates. They were immediately deprived of their commis- sions, and from that tine they lived in quiet and retirement during the war. History will show how they will behave in future. The first act of the Polish patriots, after they had expelled the enemy, was Literary Notices. extremely injudicious. It was, indeed, necessary, in a time of such emergency, to elect a dictator, but they chose a per- son wholly unqualified to wield the supreme power. The eventual effect of this error, ought to be a lesson to all who suppose that military talents alone qualify a man for civil office, or think that the chief magistracy should be made the reward of military services. The Poles chose for their dictator, Gen- eral Chlopicki, a good and brave man, but who proved incompetent to conduct the revolution wisely. It was undoubt- edly his best policy to have speedily or- ganized an army, and to have sent a division into Lithuania, which was ripe for revolt. He did neither. His or- ganization of the army was so ineffec- tive and dilatory, that the people took the affair into their own hands, and fill- ed the ranks by voluntary enrolments. Thus much valuable time was lost, and many important advantages were re- linquished. Major Hordynski relates these errors, and explains their conse- quences in the most satisfactory man- ner. At last, Chlopicki was deprived of his office, and Prince Radzivil took com- mand of the army. As it was now too late to assume the offensive, as the dic- tator should have done, and as the Polish army was too small to defend the whole frontier, it was resolved to concentrate, and by a retreat, fighting, to draw the enemy to the vicinity of Warsaw. There it was resolved to stake the for- tune of Poland on a decisive battle. The Polish force amounted to 45,000 men and 96 pieces of cannon. Marshal Diebitsch took the field against the army with 200,000 men and 300 pieces. We need not here follow Major Hordynski into minute accounts of the almost su- perhuman efforts of the Poles. Let it suffice that from the 10th of February to the 2d of March, thirteen sanguinary battles were fought with the enemy, be- sides twice that number of small skir- mishes, in which that enemy was unm- formly defeated, and a full third part of his forces annihilated. The great battle of Grocow near War- saw, was the most extraordinary, if we consider the numbers engaged in rela- tion to the result, that ever was fought. A hundred and sixty-eight thousand men and 280 pieces of artillery consti- tuted the Russian force. The Polish army consisted of 43,400 men and 96 pieces, and was commanded by Radzi- vil, Chlopicki and Skrzynecki. The Russians sustained a complete defeat. Thus was the object of the campaign accomplished. The command of the Literary Notices. army now devolved on John Skrzynecki, a name which needs not the addition of a title. If mere mortal man could have remedied the errors of Clilopicki and saved Poland, this truly great captain would have done it. He immediately began to act upon his general plan, which was to destroy the Russian di- vision in detail, and for a while his suc- cess equalled the expectations of Poland, sanguine as these were. He also sent a division into Lithuania, to which our author was attached. The first defeat which the Poles sus- tained was owing to the neglect of Gen. Sierawski, to obey Skrzyneckis orders. The second was more disastrous. The terror of the Russians, The Cannon Provider, in a word, the veteran Dwer- nicki l~ire committed his first and last military error, and lost himself and his whole division. Nevertheless, the main army continued to be successful, and drove the Russian Imperial Guard out of the kingdom. Major Hordynski con- siders his generals operations at this stage of the revolution, as unequaled in the annals of warfare, save by Napo- leons brilliant campaigns in Italy. Skrzynecki then returned to defend Warsaw against the main Russian army under Diebitsch, defeating that general on his way, at Ostrooleuska, in a most obstinate and sanguinary battle. Shortly after, a very alarming conspi- racy was discovered in the capital. Its object was to liberate and arm the Rus- sian prisoners, of whom there were a host in Warsaw. Several distinguished officers, who had been considered true patriots, were implicated in this trea- son, the effect of which was that the people lost heart, and were no longer willing to trust any one, not even the commander in chief. When, therefore, tidings arrived that, owing to the mis- conduct, perhaps treason, of its gene- rals, the army of Lithuania had been lost, their exasperation was beyond all bounds. They bitterly reproached the generalissimo for having placed that army in such hands; and, to appease them, a council of war was ordered to investigate his past conduct, and to pass judgement upon his plans for the future. The result of this proceeding was, that the council published an address to the people proclaiming their entire confi- dence in Skrzynecki. Major Hordynski thinks that the ope- rations of Skrzynecki after this period were not the most judicious. At any rate, the commander in chief was de- prived of his command. Just then, when the main body of the Polish army was absent under its new commander, in order to attack a detached Russian division, the main Russian army ap- peared before Warsaw, which fell, after a bloody defence. Such is the outline of Major Hordyn- skis book, which is just what it pre- tends to be, and nothing else. It con- tains more information on the affairs of Poland than we have ever been able to gain from all other sources, collective ly. The major has also given us sev- eral very spirited sketches of distin- guished public characters, and a suc- cinct account of Lithuania. We have read this History of the late Polish Rev- olution with breathless interest, and great satisfaction; for we are now sure, that ere long Poland will make another and a successful effort to throw off the Muscovite yoke. Such a people cannot long be slaves, and, moreover, God is on their side. We most confidently re- commend the book to all and several. The Practical Tourist, or Sketch- es of the State of the Useful Arts, and of Society, Scenery, & c. & c. in Great-Britain, France and Holland. In two volumes. By Zachariali Allen. The author is well qualified by nature and education to treat upon all the sub- jects that are set forth in his title-page, and more. No book of travels that ever came from our press, contains more in- teresting matter and pertinent reflec- tions than the Practical Tourist. The author examined many of the various manufacturing establishments of the countries he visited, and describes them as one conversant with such subjects at home. His descriptions on all subjects are much more precise and vivid to his countrymen, by being illustrated, when- ever they can be, by comparison with things well known in America. In re- gard to morals, state of society, govern- ment, & c. his reflections show him to have sound principles as well as good powers of description. He is a thorough investigator of whatever he found on his route that could afford instruction or amusement; and very fortunately for his readers, he has a practical turn, and does not disdain to write of com- mon things. We cannot better praise him than to give him an opportunity to speak for himselfhoping that he will soon speak again. The following description relates to the district between Amiens and Paris. Sanfoin and trefoil, among the grasses, give the bright tinge of their blossoms to extensive fields. There are neither fences nor hedges to secure the growing crops from the cattle. They 167

The Practical Tourist, or Sketches of the State of the Useful Arts, and of Society, Scenery. By Zachariah Allen Literary Notices 167-169

Literary Notices. army now devolved on John Skrzynecki, a name which needs not the addition of a title. If mere mortal man could have remedied the errors of Clilopicki and saved Poland, this truly great captain would have done it. He immediately began to act upon his general plan, which was to destroy the Russian di- vision in detail, and for a while his suc- cess equalled the expectations of Poland, sanguine as these were. He also sent a division into Lithuania, to which our author was attached. The first defeat which the Poles sus- tained was owing to the neglect of Gen. Sierawski, to obey Skrzyneckis orders. The second was more disastrous. The terror of the Russians, The Cannon Provider, in a word, the veteran Dwer- nicki l~ire committed his first and last military error, and lost himself and his whole division. Nevertheless, the main army continued to be successful, and drove the Russian Imperial Guard out of the kingdom. Major Hordynski con- siders his generals operations at this stage of the revolution, as unequaled in the annals of warfare, save by Napo- leons brilliant campaigns in Italy. Skrzynecki then returned to defend Warsaw against the main Russian army under Diebitsch, defeating that general on his way, at Ostrooleuska, in a most obstinate and sanguinary battle. Shortly after, a very alarming conspi- racy was discovered in the capital. Its object was to liberate and arm the Rus- sian prisoners, of whom there were a host in Warsaw. Several distinguished officers, who had been considered true patriots, were implicated in this trea- son, the effect of which was that the people lost heart, and were no longer willing to trust any one, not even the commander in chief. When, therefore, tidings arrived that, owing to the mis- conduct, perhaps treason, of its gene- rals, the army of Lithuania had been lost, their exasperation was beyond all bounds. They bitterly reproached the generalissimo for having placed that army in such hands; and, to appease them, a council of war was ordered to investigate his past conduct, and to pass judgement upon his plans for the future. The result of this proceeding was, that the council published an address to the people proclaiming their entire confi- dence in Skrzynecki. Major Hordynski thinks that the ope- rations of Skrzynecki after this period were not the most judicious. At any rate, the commander in chief was de- prived of his command. Just then, when the main body of the Polish army was absent under its new commander, in order to attack a detached Russian division, the main Russian army ap- peared before Warsaw, which fell, after a bloody defence. Such is the outline of Major Hordyn- skis book, which is just what it pre- tends to be, and nothing else. It con- tains more information on the affairs of Poland than we have ever been able to gain from all other sources, collective ly. The major has also given us sev- eral very spirited sketches of distin- guished public characters, and a suc- cinct account of Lithuania. We have read this History of the late Polish Rev- olution with breathless interest, and great satisfaction; for we are now sure, that ere long Poland will make another and a successful effort to throw off the Muscovite yoke. Such a people cannot long be slaves, and, moreover, God is on their side. We most confidently re- commend the book to all and several. The Practical Tourist, or Sketch- es of the State of the Useful Arts, and of Society, Scenery, & c. & c. in Great-Britain, France and Holland. In two volumes. By Zachariali Allen. The author is well qualified by nature and education to treat upon all the sub- jects that are set forth in his title-page, and more. No book of travels that ever came from our press, contains more in- teresting matter and pertinent reflec- tions than the Practical Tourist. The author examined many of the various manufacturing establishments of the countries he visited, and describes them as one conversant with such subjects at home. His descriptions on all subjects are much more precise and vivid to his countrymen, by being illustrated, when- ever they can be, by comparison with things well known in America. In re- gard to morals, state of society, govern- ment, & c. his reflections show him to have sound principles as well as good powers of description. He is a thorough investigator of whatever he found on his route that could afford instruction or amusement; and very fortunately for his readers, he has a practical turn, and does not disdain to write of com- mon things. We cannot better praise him than to give him an opportunity to speak for himselfhoping that he will soon speak again. The following description relates to the district between Amiens and Paris. Sanfoin and trefoil, among the grasses, give the bright tinge of their blossoms to extensive fields. There are neither fences nor hedges to secure the growing crops from the cattle. They 167 Literary Notices. are not, therefore, permitted to range the roads at large, as is common in the United States. No fences, indeed, are even used to divide the meadow-lands, pastures, and fields of grain, of neighboring farmers; but the crops of all sorts are growing as it were sociably together, with- out a ditch or embankment to divide them. It must be obvious, that under such circumstances it would not answer to turn out cows, sheep, or horses, into a pasture, to range uncontroled, as is done by New-England farsoers on their well- fenced lands. A string tied to a peg at one end, and to the leg of a horse or the horn of a cow at the other, usually limits the range of their graz- ing excursions. The extent of the rope serves as the radius of the circle, about which they vibrate from side to side, to crop the grass. For want of suitable fencing materials, shep- herds and shepherdesses are still to be found in the fields of France, as a substitute for rail fen- ces and stone walls. Their services are not necessary to protect their flocks from the depre- dations of wolves, but for a very different pur- pose ;to protect the growing crops, which border the pastures, from the depredations of the sheep. To relieve themselves of the laborious duty of running back and forth constantly, between the verge of the fields of grain and the sheep pasture, the shepherds have resorted to the sagacity of dogs. They appear to he an indolent race, lying down upon the grass at their ease, whilst their ever active dogs take upon themselves the whole management of the flock. These dogs, as if conscious of their elevated station, and of the importance of the command entrusted to them, over the herd of subordinate animals, stride gravely along the edges of the pastures, like trusty sentinels, displaying, in their very seep and mien, what might almost be deemed an air of magisterial dignity. Where the range of the pasture is ex- tensive, two or more dogs are necessary. They pace back and forth, meeting each other with the regularity of sentinels, half way on their allotted round, and wheeling about like them to retrace their line of march. A French gen- tleman stated to me, that so great are the docil- ity and sagacity of well-trained shepherds dogs, that their masters have only to take them around the limits of the grounds allotted for the range of the flock, and to designate properly the bounds or lines for them to traverse, when they seem to comprehend the extent of their task, and will suffer no errant sheep to transgress them. When a nose is seen projected over this line, to crop the herhage beyond it, the dog hastens silently to the spot. I noticed one of them, attending a flock near Lille, to give a sudden and loud bark at the very ear of the trespassing sheep, who, in his agitation at the unexpected rebuke, wheeled completely round, as if stunned. Thus it appears to be the busi- ness of the dogs, as well as of the shepherds, to watch, not so much for the safety of the flocks, as for that of the adjacent unfenced fields of grain. The Shepherd-dogs sell for one or two hun- dred francs each, according to the excellence of their education, as the postillion expressed himself, in reply to my inquiries. The shep- herds themselves frequently take up their abode in the fields during the summer, sleeping at night in the little portable houses or sheds mounted on wheels, which they move about at pleasure on changing their pastures. I have seen them traveling along the roads between the sheep pastures and the houses from whence they get their supply of food, with their wallets or scrips, probably somewhat after the fashion practised by the primeval shepherd, David. The shepherdesses, as well as the shepherds, from their constant residence in the fields and exposure to the sun, have complexions quite as brown as those of the native Indians or squaws of America; and, judging from appearances, one would suppose them to he about as suscep- tible of sentimental loves. Pastoral life, as depicted in poetry, like many other conceits of the poets imagination, loses a portion of its charms when viewed in the sober light of truth. The idle life led by shepherds of ancient days allowed them such ample leisure to make love, that the very terms, swain, and lover, have become synonymous. Near Bouen these are the prices paid in manufactories. The prices paid for weaving broadcloth of middling qualities by hand are from 9 to 13 cents per English yard, and the weavers earn from 37 to 50 cents per day. A small boy to piece rolls for woollen roving earns from 85 to 95 cents per week, and women earn on an av- erage $l,50 per week. Some of them, who spin, earn $2 per week. Men earn by spinning 40 or 50 cents per day. A common day labor earns about 5 francs a day, or 38 cents. The prices of provision are nearly the sane here, as on the seaboard of the United States. Beef, mutton and lamb are selling in the market at from S to 11 sons (equal to about as many cents) for the English pohod. We make the following extracts from the part of the work descriptive of Great-Britain. The delays attendant upon Chancery pro- ceedings, it is well known, have procrastinated suits for one or two generations. Virgils des- cription of the judge of the lower regions has been humorously applied to Chancellor Eldon; sedet et semper sedebit, he sits and will forever sit. Nearly two hundred millions of dollars, it appears from published statements, are placed to the credit of the accountant of the Court of Chancery. Of this great amount, more than forty millions of dollars are supposed to belong to the heirs of unclaimed estates, and to other persons who are either ignorant of their claims or unable to produce proper proof to substanti- ate them. On a fifial failure on the part of the claimants to make out satisfactory titles. much of this property must revert to the government. This accumulation of various offices on the shoulders of one individual seems to be an anomaly in Great-Britain, where, to insure profitable skill and despatch even in the manu- facture of a pin, as has been before observed, laborious duties are sufficiently subdivided. The emoluments attached to all these several offices, amounting to about 320,000 dollars per annum, induce the prime minister of England to undertake these many duties. The tenure by which he holds his office, depends so much on popular favor on the one hand, and on kingly favor on the other, that it becomes nec- essary for him to reap his harvest with all prac- ticable despatch. The Lord Chancellor, seated on the bench of the Court of Chancery, is attired in the fashion of past ages, muffled in fur-trimmed robes, and capped with a huge white wig. The wig appears to be deemed in England as indispensable an ap- pendage to a judge, as a crown, in the old pic- tured representations, to a king. On a sultry summer day, the uncomfortable fur and smoth- ering wig might almost cause a trans-atlantic spectator to pity the man who suffers under the hurthen, at though remunerated by a compensa- tion of three hundred thousand dollars per annum. The rigid mass of crisped hair is curled into volutes, saturated with hair powder, and really forms an exotic crop, transplanted to the head of the first man of the kingdom, 168 which daly distributed, would serve for cover- ing nearly as many men as his equally dispro- portionate salary would liberally support. The lawyers, also arrayed in tbeir peculiar costume and wigs, in front of the Chancellor, confirm the fancied impression that you are viewing the law-proceedings of another cen- tury; but the clients, dressed in modern fash- ion, have too much of the care-worn aspect of present, palpable trouble, to be mistaken for ideal figures of men of other times. Progressive Exercises in English Composition. By R. G. Parker, Principal of the Franklin Grammar School, Boston. The art of composition is an art not easily taught. There is nothing in the whole science of education more diffi- cult of attainment by a pupil, and noth- ing which so few instructors are com- petent to teach. It would be difficult, perhaps, to decide, taking masters and pupils in separate classes which class could furnish, in proportion to its rela- tive numbers, the greatest number of accurate, or even tolerable writers. The most that teaching can do in this matter is to correct the style and fur- nish models. What a pity that it cannot create ideas! Mr. Parkers book, we think, will prove a useful one. We have never seen any treatise which bore any resemblance to it, except Walkers Teachers Assistant, and to this, with others, Mr. Parker acknowl- edt~es his indebtedness for some hints; but the plan and general features of the work are believed to be new. We have annexed an extract from the authors preface, and commend the book to those who are turning their attention to composition. Two great obstacles beset the pupil in his first attempts at composition. The first is the difficulty of obtaining ideas, (or learning to think;) the second is that of expressing them properly when obtained. In this volume, the Author has endeavored to afford some assist- ance to the pupil in overcoming these difficul- ties. It is not unfrequently tbe case, that the scholar is discouraged in the very onset and the teacher, from the want of a regular and progressive system, finds his labors unsuccess- ful, and his requisitions met with reluctance, if not with opposition. The simplicity of the plan here proposed requires no labored explan- ation. The first exercise or lesson consists in giving the pupil a word, or a number of words, and instead of asking for a definition of them, requiring him to use thens in a sentence or idea of his swss. From this simple exercise he is led onward through a series of Lessons in easy and regular progression, from the simplest principles to the most difficult practice. After the princi- ple of each lesson is stated, (and, when neces- sary, explained,) a MoOEL is presented, which is designed to show the pupil how the exercise is to be performed. The EXAMPLES FOR PaACT,ca furnish him with the materials with which he is expected to perform Isis exer- cise. The teacher will find no difficulty in supplying the deficiency, if the EXAMPLES are not sufficiently numerous in some cases, or in VOL. III. 169 omitting what may be superfluous In others. If, on the first inspection, any of the Lessons appear too difficult, the Author respectfully requests the tests of trial and experience before they are condemned. They have been per- formed, and time Models of some of those appar- ently the most difficult, were written by pupils in the school of which he has the charge. The book is designed as the Sequel to a Grammar which will shortly be published, on a plan, in some respects, different from any now in use. It therefore presupposes some acquaint- ance with syntax; although the practical exer- cises under most of the Lessons, can be per- formed with tolerable facility by those, who have but a slender knowledge of any part of Grammar. Legends of the West. By James hail, Author of Letters from the West, & c. Philadelphia, published by Harrison Hall. Although Judge Hall is, already very favorably and widely known as an au- thor, the present work will extend Isis reputation. it is well for a writer of ]ong standing, when the critic can pro- nounce his last work his best. There are, in this volume, twelve tales or sketches, including a variety of sub- jects. The author has tried his powers in the descriptive, the wild, the pathet- ic, and the comic, and has succeeded in all, and in all lie has well drawn the Western scenery and character. There is much polish as well as invention in these Legends. The first bears the title of the Back- woodsman, and it is exceedingly well told. The hero is none other than Boone, the Patriarch of Kentucky, a man, who, with a passion for adven- ture, was yet of a quiet and equable temper. His tastes led him to a wilder- ness where every thing was lovely or grand, and where, without misanthro- py, he lived far from the haunts of men. The following are set down as some of the reflections of this Robin Hood of the West Well, it is a pleasant life that the hunter leads, after all, though it is a hard one, con- tinned he, as he opened his collar, bathed his face and hands in the clear stream, and seated himself on a log, to enjoy the cool morning air. Nature did not make these clear waters, and beautiful woods, merely for the use of treacher- ous Indians,no, nor for land speculators and pedlars. Here is quiet and repose, such as they know nothing of who toil in their harvest fields, or bustle about in crowded cities. And what is the use of all their labor? The enemy steals into the settlement, and in a moment their stacks, their barns, and their houses are all in flames, or the pestilence walks abroad, and they die by hundreds, like the Indians in a hard winter. The hunter avoids both extremes: lie lays up provisions for the winter, but does not accumulate so much property as to tempt the Indian to rob, or the lawyer to fleece him. It makes me sorry when I go into the settlements, where the people are getting so crowded that there is no comfort, and where there is so much strife. It is so with all animals: confine cattle Literary Notices.

Progressive Exercises in English Composition. By R. G. Parker, Principal of the Franklin Grammar School, Boston Literary Notices 169

which daly distributed, would serve for cover- ing nearly as many men as his equally dispro- portionate salary would liberally support. The lawyers, also arrayed in tbeir peculiar costume and wigs, in front of the Chancellor, confirm the fancied impression that you are viewing the law-proceedings of another cen- tury; but the clients, dressed in modern fash- ion, have too much of the care-worn aspect of present, palpable trouble, to be mistaken for ideal figures of men of other times. Progressive Exercises in English Composition. By R. G. Parker, Principal of the Franklin Grammar School, Boston. The art of composition is an art not easily taught. There is nothing in the whole science of education more diffi- cult of attainment by a pupil, and noth- ing which so few instructors are com- petent to teach. It would be difficult, perhaps, to decide, taking masters and pupils in separate classes which class could furnish, in proportion to its rela- tive numbers, the greatest number of accurate, or even tolerable writers. The most that teaching can do in this matter is to correct the style and fur- nish models. What a pity that it cannot create ideas! Mr. Parkers book, we think, will prove a useful one. We have never seen any treatise which bore any resemblance to it, except Walkers Teachers Assistant, and to this, with others, Mr. Parker acknowl- edt~es his indebtedness for some hints; but the plan and general features of the work are believed to be new. We have annexed an extract from the authors preface, and commend the book to those who are turning their attention to composition. Two great obstacles beset the pupil in his first attempts at composition. The first is the difficulty of obtaining ideas, (or learning to think;) the second is that of expressing them properly when obtained. In this volume, the Author has endeavored to afford some assist- ance to the pupil in overcoming these difficul- ties. It is not unfrequently tbe case, that the scholar is discouraged in the very onset and the teacher, from the want of a regular and progressive system, finds his labors unsuccess- ful, and his requisitions met with reluctance, if not with opposition. The simplicity of the plan here proposed requires no labored explan- ation. The first exercise or lesson consists in giving the pupil a word, or a number of words, and instead of asking for a definition of them, requiring him to use thens in a sentence or idea of his swss. From this simple exercise he is led onward through a series of Lessons in easy and regular progression, from the simplest principles to the most difficult practice. After the princi- ple of each lesson is stated, (and, when neces- sary, explained,) a MoOEL is presented, which is designed to show the pupil how the exercise is to be performed. The EXAMPLES FOR PaACT,ca furnish him with the materials with which he is expected to perform Isis exer- cise. The teacher will find no difficulty in supplying the deficiency, if the EXAMPLES are not sufficiently numerous in some cases, or in VOL. III. 169 omitting what may be superfluous In others. If, on the first inspection, any of the Lessons appear too difficult, the Author respectfully requests the tests of trial and experience before they are condemned. They have been per- formed, and time Models of some of those appar- ently the most difficult, were written by pupils in the school of which he has the charge. The book is designed as the Sequel to a Grammar which will shortly be published, on a plan, in some respects, different from any now in use. It therefore presupposes some acquaint- ance with syntax; although the practical exer- cises under most of the Lessons, can be per- formed with tolerable facility by those, who have but a slender knowledge of any part of Grammar. Legends of the West. By James hail, Author of Letters from the West, & c. Philadelphia, published by Harrison Hall. Although Judge Hall is, already very favorably and widely known as an au- thor, the present work will extend Isis reputation. it is well for a writer of ]ong standing, when the critic can pro- nounce his last work his best. There are, in this volume, twelve tales or sketches, including a variety of sub- jects. The author has tried his powers in the descriptive, the wild, the pathet- ic, and the comic, and has succeeded in all, and in all lie has well drawn the Western scenery and character. There is much polish as well as invention in these Legends. The first bears the title of the Back- woodsman, and it is exceedingly well told. The hero is none other than Boone, the Patriarch of Kentucky, a man, who, with a passion for adven- ture, was yet of a quiet and equable temper. His tastes led him to a wilder- ness where every thing was lovely or grand, and where, without misanthro- py, he lived far from the haunts of men. The following are set down as some of the reflections of this Robin Hood of the West Well, it is a pleasant life that the hunter leads, after all, though it is a hard one, con- tinned he, as he opened his collar, bathed his face and hands in the clear stream, and seated himself on a log, to enjoy the cool morning air. Nature did not make these clear waters, and beautiful woods, merely for the use of treacher- ous Indians,no, nor for land speculators and pedlars. Here is quiet and repose, such as they know nothing of who toil in their harvest fields, or bustle about in crowded cities. And what is the use of all their labor? The enemy steals into the settlement, and in a moment their stacks, their barns, and their houses are all in flames, or the pestilence walks abroad, and they die by hundreds, like the Indians in a hard winter. The hunter avoids both extremes: lie lays up provisions for the winter, but does not accumulate so much property as to tempt the Indian to rob, or the lawyer to fleece him. It makes me sorry when I go into the settlements, where the people are getting so crowded that there is no comfort, and where there is so much strife. It is so with all animals: confine cattle Literary Notices.

Legends of the West. By James Hall, Author of Letters from the West Literary Notices 169-170

which daly distributed, would serve for cover- ing nearly as many men as his equally dispro- portionate salary would liberally support. The lawyers, also arrayed in tbeir peculiar costume and wigs, in front of the Chancellor, confirm the fancied impression that you are viewing the law-proceedings of another cen- tury; but the clients, dressed in modern fash- ion, have too much of the care-worn aspect of present, palpable trouble, to be mistaken for ideal figures of men of other times. Progressive Exercises in English Composition. By R. G. Parker, Principal of the Franklin Grammar School, Boston. The art of composition is an art not easily taught. There is nothing in the whole science of education more diffi- cult of attainment by a pupil, and noth- ing which so few instructors are com- petent to teach. It would be difficult, perhaps, to decide, taking masters and pupils in separate classes which class could furnish, in proportion to its rela- tive numbers, the greatest number of accurate, or even tolerable writers. The most that teaching can do in this matter is to correct the style and fur- nish models. What a pity that it cannot create ideas! Mr. Parkers book, we think, will prove a useful one. We have never seen any treatise which bore any resemblance to it, except Walkers Teachers Assistant, and to this, with others, Mr. Parker acknowl- edt~es his indebtedness for some hints; but the plan and general features of the work are believed to be new. We have annexed an extract from the authors preface, and commend the book to those who are turning their attention to composition. Two great obstacles beset the pupil in his first attempts at composition. The first is the difficulty of obtaining ideas, (or learning to think;) the second is that of expressing them properly when obtained. In this volume, the Author has endeavored to afford some assist- ance to the pupil in overcoming these difficul- ties. It is not unfrequently tbe case, that the scholar is discouraged in the very onset and the teacher, from the want of a regular and progressive system, finds his labors unsuccess- ful, and his requisitions met with reluctance, if not with opposition. The simplicity of the plan here proposed requires no labored explan- ation. The first exercise or lesson consists in giving the pupil a word, or a number of words, and instead of asking for a definition of them, requiring him to use thens in a sentence or idea of his swss. From this simple exercise he is led onward through a series of Lessons in easy and regular progression, from the simplest principles to the most difficult practice. After the princi- ple of each lesson is stated, (and, when neces- sary, explained,) a MoOEL is presented, which is designed to show the pupil how the exercise is to be performed. The EXAMPLES FOR PaACT,ca furnish him with the materials with which he is expected to perform Isis exer- cise. The teacher will find no difficulty in supplying the deficiency, if the EXAMPLES are not sufficiently numerous in some cases, or in VOL. III. 169 omitting what may be superfluous In others. If, on the first inspection, any of the Lessons appear too difficult, the Author respectfully requests the tests of trial and experience before they are condemned. They have been per- formed, and time Models of some of those appar- ently the most difficult, were written by pupils in the school of which he has the charge. The book is designed as the Sequel to a Grammar which will shortly be published, on a plan, in some respects, different from any now in use. It therefore presupposes some acquaint- ance with syntax; although the practical exer- cises under most of the Lessons, can be per- formed with tolerable facility by those, who have but a slender knowledge of any part of Grammar. Legends of the West. By James hail, Author of Letters from the West, & c. Philadelphia, published by Harrison Hall. Although Judge Hall is, already very favorably and widely known as an au- thor, the present work will extend Isis reputation. it is well for a writer of ]ong standing, when the critic can pro- nounce his last work his best. There are, in this volume, twelve tales or sketches, including a variety of sub- jects. The author has tried his powers in the descriptive, the wild, the pathet- ic, and the comic, and has succeeded in all, and in all lie has well drawn the Western scenery and character. There is much polish as well as invention in these Legends. The first bears the title of the Back- woodsman, and it is exceedingly well told. The hero is none other than Boone, the Patriarch of Kentucky, a man, who, with a passion for adven- ture, was yet of a quiet and equable temper. His tastes led him to a wilder- ness where every thing was lovely or grand, and where, without misanthro- py, he lived far from the haunts of men. The following are set down as some of the reflections of this Robin Hood of the West Well, it is a pleasant life that the hunter leads, after all, though it is a hard one, con- tinned he, as he opened his collar, bathed his face and hands in the clear stream, and seated himself on a log, to enjoy the cool morning air. Nature did not make these clear waters, and beautiful woods, merely for the use of treacher- ous Indians,no, nor for land speculators and pedlars. Here is quiet and repose, such as they know nothing of who toil in their harvest fields, or bustle about in crowded cities. And what is the use of all their labor? The enemy steals into the settlement, and in a moment their stacks, their barns, and their houses are all in flames, or the pestilence walks abroad, and they die by hundreds, like the Indians in a hard winter. The hunter avoids both extremes: lie lays up provisions for the winter, but does not accumulate so much property as to tempt the Indian to rob, or the lawyer to fleece him. It makes me sorry when I go into the settlements, where the people are getting so crowded that there is no comfort, and where there is so much strife. It is so with all animals: confine cattle Literary Notices. 170 In a yard, and they will hook e ch other, or chickens in a coop, and they svill peck out each others eyes. But there is no stopping them; the pedlars carts will be alon~ over this very spot, before many years, and the time will come, when there will not be a bufiblo in Ken- tucky. It is bad enough now. There are set- tlements already, where a woodsman cannot fitid his way for the roads and farms. The Divining Rod, is founded on a superstition not yet extinct, even in New-England. A Methodist preacher, who engages in the search for buried treasure, is very forcibly drawn, and apparently from the life. tie was a preacher, but one who would have deemed it an insult to be called e clergyma for he belonged to a sect who contemo all hu- man learnin0 as vanity, and who consider a trained minister as little better than an impos- tor. The person before us was a champion of the sect. He boasted that he had nearly grown to manhood, before he knew one letter from another; that he had learned to read for the sole purpose of gainin~ access to the scriptures, and, with the exception of the hymns used in his church, had never read a page in ny other book. With considerable natural sagacity, and an abundance of zeal, he had a gift of words, which enabled him at times to support his fa- vorite tenets with a plausibility and force, a- moonting very nearly akin to eloquence, and which, while it gave him unbounded sway amons his own followers, was sometimes not a little troublesome to his teamed opponents. His sermons presented a curious mixture of the sententious and the declamatory, an uncon- nected mass of argument and assertion, through which there ran a vein of dry original humor, wbich, l~ough it often provoked a smile, never failed to rivet the attention of the audience. But these flashes were like sparks of fire, struck from a rock; they communicated a life and warnsth to the hearts of others, which seemed to have no existence in that from which they sprung, for that humor never flashed in his own eye, nor relaxed a muscle of his melan~holy, cadaverous countenance. Yet that eye was not destitute of expression; there were times when it beamed with intelligence, moments when it softened into tenderness; but its usual character was that of a visionary, fanatic en- thusiasm. His ideas were not numerous, and the general theme of his declamation consisted of metaphysical distinctions between what he called head religion, and heart religion ; the one being a direct inspiration, and the other a spurious substitute learned from vain books. tie wrote a tract to show it was the thirst alter human knowledge, which drove our first pa- rents from paradise, that through the whole course of succeeding time ac/rest /as leg had been the most prolific sorirce of human misery and mental degradation, and that bible societies, freemasonry, the holy alliance, and the inqisisi- tion, were so many engines devised by king- craft, priest-craft, and school-craft, to subjugate the world to the power of Satan. He spoke of the millennium as a time when there should be no king, nor printer, nor Sunday school, nor outlandish tongue, nor vain doctrinewhen men would plough, and women milk the cows, and taUt plain English to each other, and worship Literary Notices. God out of the fullness of their hearts, and not after vain forms written by men. In short, this worthy man was entirely opposed to the spread of religious knowledge; when a man has head religiosr, he would say, he is in a badftx to diecut off his head, and away goes his soul and body to the devil. The remain- der of his character may be lsriefly sketched. Honest humane and harmless in private life, impetuous in his feelings, fearless and independ- ent by nature, and reared in a country where speech is as free as thought, he pursued his vo- cation without intolerance, but within a zeal which sometimes bordered on insanity. He spoke of his opponents more in sorrow than in anger, and bewailed the increase of knowledge as a mother mourns over her first born. Such was Mr. Zedekiah Bangs. His innocent and patriarchal manners insured him universal es- teem, and rendered him famous, far and wide, under the title of Uncle Zeddy; while his ackuewledged zeal and sanctity gained for him in his own church, and among the religious generally, the more reverend appellation of Father Bangs. The Emigrants, The Barrack Mas- ters Daughter, The Intestate, The Seventh Son, and the Indian Hater, are among the host of the Legends, where all are good. The subjects are well chosen and the tales are full of interest. Encyclopedia Americana, Vol. X. If any readers should be unacquaint- ed witla the plan and general umerits of this work, we refer him to previous no- tices in this Magazine, and to the news- papers, all over the country. Its char- acter is well pointed out in some of the advertisements of the publishers, in the phrase The Peoples Library. In hastily looking over the tentla and last-published volume, we perceive a goodly number of articles of American Biography. There is an elaborate es- say on Philology, containing some orig- inal views; another on Rail-ways, of itself enough to fill a moderate sized volume; and a very amusing one on Posts one of the most effective in- struments of civilization, to be ranked with the art of Printing and the Mari- ners Compass. Under this name Posts are embraced all sorts of cour- iers and messengerscarrier-pigeons, traveling merchants (that is to say, in Yankee phrase, pedlars) and butchers, who ride about the country to buy cat- tle, as well as mail-carriers and post- masters. The History of Napoleon Bo- naparte, omitted in its proper alphabet- ical place, is attached to this volum in an appendix.

Encyclopedia Americana, Vol. X Literary Notices 170-171

170 In a yard, and they will hook e ch other, or chickens in a coop, and they svill peck out each others eyes. But there is no stopping them; the pedlars carts will be alon~ over this very spot, before many years, and the time will come, when there will not be a bufiblo in Ken- tucky. It is bad enough now. There are set- tlements already, where a woodsman cannot fitid his way for the roads and farms. The Divining Rod, is founded on a superstition not yet extinct, even in New-England. A Methodist preacher, who engages in the search for buried treasure, is very forcibly drawn, and apparently from the life. tie was a preacher, but one who would have deemed it an insult to be called e clergyma for he belonged to a sect who contemo all hu- man learnin0 as vanity, and who consider a trained minister as little better than an impos- tor. The person before us was a champion of the sect. He boasted that he had nearly grown to manhood, before he knew one letter from another; that he had learned to read for the sole purpose of gainin~ access to the scriptures, and, with the exception of the hymns used in his church, had never read a page in ny other book. With considerable natural sagacity, and an abundance of zeal, he had a gift of words, which enabled him at times to support his fa- vorite tenets with a plausibility and force, a- moonting very nearly akin to eloquence, and which, while it gave him unbounded sway amons his own followers, was sometimes not a little troublesome to his teamed opponents. His sermons presented a curious mixture of the sententious and the declamatory, an uncon- nected mass of argument and assertion, through which there ran a vein of dry original humor, wbich, l~ough it often provoked a smile, never failed to rivet the attention of the audience. But these flashes were like sparks of fire, struck from a rock; they communicated a life and warnsth to the hearts of others, which seemed to have no existence in that from which they sprung, for that humor never flashed in his own eye, nor relaxed a muscle of his melan~holy, cadaverous countenance. Yet that eye was not destitute of expression; there were times when it beamed with intelligence, moments when it softened into tenderness; but its usual character was that of a visionary, fanatic en- thusiasm. His ideas were not numerous, and the general theme of his declamation consisted of metaphysical distinctions between what he called head religion, and heart religion ; the one being a direct inspiration, and the other a spurious substitute learned from vain books. tie wrote a tract to show it was the thirst alter human knowledge, which drove our first pa- rents from paradise, that through the whole course of succeeding time ac/rest /as leg had been the most prolific sorirce of human misery and mental degradation, and that bible societies, freemasonry, the holy alliance, and the inqisisi- tion, were so many engines devised by king- craft, priest-craft, and school-craft, to subjugate the world to the power of Satan. He spoke of the millennium as a time when there should be no king, nor printer, nor Sunday school, nor outlandish tongue, nor vain doctrinewhen men would plough, and women milk the cows, and taUt plain English to each other, and worship Literary Notices. God out of the fullness of their hearts, and not after vain forms written by men. In short, this worthy man was entirely opposed to the spread of religious knowledge; when a man has head religiosr, he would say, he is in a badftx to diecut off his head, and away goes his soul and body to the devil. The remain- der of his character may be lsriefly sketched. Honest humane and harmless in private life, impetuous in his feelings, fearless and independ- ent by nature, and reared in a country where speech is as free as thought, he pursued his vo- cation without intolerance, but within a zeal which sometimes bordered on insanity. He spoke of his opponents more in sorrow than in anger, and bewailed the increase of knowledge as a mother mourns over her first born. Such was Mr. Zedekiah Bangs. His innocent and patriarchal manners insured him universal es- teem, and rendered him famous, far and wide, under the title of Uncle Zeddy; while his ackuewledged zeal and sanctity gained for him in his own church, and among the religious generally, the more reverend appellation of Father Bangs. The Emigrants, The Barrack Mas- ters Daughter, The Intestate, The Seventh Son, and the Indian Hater, are among the host of the Legends, where all are good. The subjects are well chosen and the tales are full of interest. Encyclopedia Americana, Vol. X. If any readers should be unacquaint- ed witla the plan and general umerits of this work, we refer him to previous no- tices in this Magazine, and to the news- papers, all over the country. Its char- acter is well pointed out in some of the advertisements of the publishers, in the phrase The Peoples Library. In hastily looking over the tentla and last-published volume, we perceive a goodly number of articles of American Biography. There is an elaborate es- say on Philology, containing some orig- inal views; another on Rail-ways, of itself enough to fill a moderate sized volume; and a very amusing one on Posts one of the most effective in- struments of civilization, to be ranked with the art of Printing and the Mari- ners Compass. Under this name Posts are embraced all sorts of cour- iers and messengerscarrier-pigeons, traveling merchants (that is to say, in Yankee phrase, pedlars) and butchers, who ride about the country to buy cat- tle, as well as mail-carriers and post- masters. The History of Napoleon Bo- naparte, omitted in its proper alphabet- ical place, is attached to this volum in an appendix. 171 UNIVERSITIES AND COLLEGES. UNIVERSITY OF NoaTn-CARoLI~x. The annual commencement at this in- stitution, is said to have been uncom- monly brilliant and interesting. The examinations of the students, and all their exercises, passed off well. The Hon. William Gaston delivered an ora- tion before the two literary societies of the College. The senior class consisted of twenty-two, upon whom was con- ferred the degree of Bachelor of Arts. Eighteen received the degree of Master of Arts. WILLIAM-AND-MARY Coaaaea. The public exercises were held as usual, on the 4th of July, and made an interesting and imposing display. There were twelve graduates, of whom seven re- ceived the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and five that of Bachelor of Law. From the number of matriculates and grammar scholars the past year, and from the increasing desire mknifested by the students to secure the honors of the institution, the most animating prospects may be indulged. The col- lege is now evidently in a prosperous condition. The extent of classes is as great as the average number during the popular Presidency of the venerable Bishop Madison. At present, the range of scientific instruction embraced in the studies of the college, will ch llenge a comparison, in point of utility, variety, and extent, with the scope of any simi- lar institution in our country. HARVARD UNIvERsiTY. The annual exhibition of the junior and sophomore classes took place on Monday, July 16. On Tuesd~ y, the day following, the cus- tomary exercises of the senior class on leaving college were performed ;the Class Oration, by Sanuel Osgood o Chariestown-the Poe7n,by J. S. Dwight of Boston. The usual examination of the students of the Divinity School was on Wednesday the 18th. On the same day, after the exercises of the divinity students, there was a meetin of The Philanthropic Society of the Divinity School. The Chris- tian Register states that the students of this school have interested themselves in the condition of the prisoiers in the State Prison at Charlestown and the county Jail at Cambridge, and have regularly visited them on Sundays for the purpose of imp~ rting religious in- struction. Their attention to the pris- ons excited an interest in the condition and wants of other classes of the corn- munity, and resulted in the formation of the Philanthropic Society. The annual commencement will take place on the last Wednesday in August. MOUNT T. MARYS Coaaaox, Em- mataburg, Maryland. The Baltimore American contaius an account of the distribution of prizes at the late corn- mencement in this institution. The mere catalogue occupies more than a column. The institution is said to be in a flourishing condition. By the increase of its resources it is furnishing new facilities to the students in every department of learning, and,with per- fect ood will to the other literary in- stitutions of the country,is impatient of being surpassed by any among them in the power and will to impart knowl- edge to youth, and secure the exten- sive patronage which it has hitherto ob- tamed from the near and distant states of the Union. MISCELLANIES. EDUCATION OF TIlE BLIND. Dr. S. G. Howe, who, ten months ago, went to Europe, for the purpose of exam- ining the schools for educating the Blind, has recently eturned to Boston. Dr. Howe went out as the special Agent of the New-England Asylum, and, but for the miserable policy of the Prussian Government, which prevent- ed him from visiting several important institutions in that Kingdom and Ger- many, he would have returned with a mass of practical information that mu t have been of the greatest advantage to the contemplated institution in Boston. As it is, Ile has not returned enlpty- handed. He visited several celebrated schools in England, Scotland, and rance. From an institution in Paris he has brought a young gentleman, Mr. Trencherri, to serve in the capacity of an instructor, and one every way quali- fied for the office. This young gentl& man is bout 20 years of age, and lost his sight when he was about 4. lie has no conception of colors, but

Universities and Colleges Universities and Colleges 171

171 UNIVERSITIES AND COLLEGES. UNIVERSITY OF NoaTn-CARoLI~x. The annual commencement at this in- stitution, is said to have been uncom- monly brilliant and interesting. The examinations of the students, and all their exercises, passed off well. The Hon. William Gaston delivered an ora- tion before the two literary societies of the College. The senior class consisted of twenty-two, upon whom was con- ferred the degree of Bachelor of Arts. Eighteen received the degree of Master of Arts. WILLIAM-AND-MARY Coaaaea. The public exercises were held as usual, on the 4th of July, and made an interesting and imposing display. There were twelve graduates, of whom seven re- ceived the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and five that of Bachelor of Law. From the number of matriculates and grammar scholars the past year, and from the increasing desire mknifested by the students to secure the honors of the institution, the most animating prospects may be indulged. The col- lege is now evidently in a prosperous condition. The extent of classes is as great as the average number during the popular Presidency of the venerable Bishop Madison. At present, the range of scientific instruction embraced in the studies of the college, will ch llenge a comparison, in point of utility, variety, and extent, with the scope of any simi- lar institution in our country. HARVARD UNIvERsiTY. The annual exhibition of the junior and sophomore classes took place on Monday, July 16. On Tuesd~ y, the day following, the cus- tomary exercises of the senior class on leaving college were performed ;the Class Oration, by Sanuel Osgood o Chariestown-the Poe7n,by J. S. Dwight of Boston. The usual examination of the students of the Divinity School was on Wednesday the 18th. On the same day, after the exercises of the divinity students, there was a meetin of The Philanthropic Society of the Divinity School. The Chris- tian Register states that the students of this school have interested themselves in the condition of the prisoiers in the State Prison at Charlestown and the county Jail at Cambridge, and have regularly visited them on Sundays for the purpose of imp~ rting religious in- struction. Their attention to the pris- ons excited an interest in the condition and wants of other classes of the corn- munity, and resulted in the formation of the Philanthropic Society. The annual commencement will take place on the last Wednesday in August. MOUNT T. MARYS Coaaaox, Em- mataburg, Maryland. The Baltimore American contaius an account of the distribution of prizes at the late corn- mencement in this institution. The mere catalogue occupies more than a column. The institution is said to be in a flourishing condition. By the increase of its resources it is furnishing new facilities to the students in every department of learning, and,with per- fect ood will to the other literary in- stitutions of the country,is impatient of being surpassed by any among them in the power and will to impart knowl- edge to youth, and secure the exten- sive patronage which it has hitherto ob- tamed from the near and distant states of the Union. MISCELLANIES. EDUCATION OF TIlE BLIND. Dr. S. G. Howe, who, ten months ago, went to Europe, for the purpose of exam- ining the schools for educating the Blind, has recently eturned to Boston. Dr. Howe went out as the special Agent of the New-England Asylum, and, but for the miserable policy of the Prussian Government, which prevent- ed him from visiting several important institutions in that Kingdom and Ger- many, he would have returned with a mass of practical information that mu t have been of the greatest advantage to the contemplated institution in Boston. As it is, Ile has not returned enlpty- handed. He visited several celebrated schools in England, Scotland, and rance. From an institution in Paris he has brought a young gentleman, Mr. Trencherri, to serve in the capacity of an instructor, and one every way quali- fied for the office. This young gentl& man is bout 20 years of age, and lost his sight when he was about 4. lie has no conception of colors, but

Miscellanies Miscellanies 171-175

171 UNIVERSITIES AND COLLEGES. UNIVERSITY OF NoaTn-CARoLI~x. The annual commencement at this in- stitution, is said to have been uncom- monly brilliant and interesting. The examinations of the students, and all their exercises, passed off well. The Hon. William Gaston delivered an ora- tion before the two literary societies of the College. The senior class consisted of twenty-two, upon whom was con- ferred the degree of Bachelor of Arts. Eighteen received the degree of Master of Arts. WILLIAM-AND-MARY Coaaaea. The public exercises were held as usual, on the 4th of July, and made an interesting and imposing display. There were twelve graduates, of whom seven re- ceived the degree of Bachelor of Arts, and five that of Bachelor of Law. From the number of matriculates and grammar scholars the past year, and from the increasing desire mknifested by the students to secure the honors of the institution, the most animating prospects may be indulged. The col- lege is now evidently in a prosperous condition. The extent of classes is as great as the average number during the popular Presidency of the venerable Bishop Madison. At present, the range of scientific instruction embraced in the studies of the college, will ch llenge a comparison, in point of utility, variety, and extent, with the scope of any simi- lar institution in our country. HARVARD UNIvERsiTY. The annual exhibition of the junior and sophomore classes took place on Monday, July 16. On Tuesd~ y, the day following, the cus- tomary exercises of the senior class on leaving college were performed ;the Class Oration, by Sanuel Osgood o Chariestown-the Poe7n,by J. S. Dwight of Boston. The usual examination of the students of the Divinity School was on Wednesday the 18th. On the same day, after the exercises of the divinity students, there was a meetin of The Philanthropic Society of the Divinity School. The Chris- tian Register states that the students of this school have interested themselves in the condition of the prisoiers in the State Prison at Charlestown and the county Jail at Cambridge, and have regularly visited them on Sundays for the purpose of imp~ rting religious in- struction. Their attention to the pris- ons excited an interest in the condition and wants of other classes of the corn- munity, and resulted in the formation of the Philanthropic Society. The annual commencement will take place on the last Wednesday in August. MOUNT T. MARYS Coaaaox, Em- mataburg, Maryland. The Baltimore American contaius an account of the distribution of prizes at the late corn- mencement in this institution. The mere catalogue occupies more than a column. The institution is said to be in a flourishing condition. By the increase of its resources it is furnishing new facilities to the students in every department of learning, and,with per- fect ood will to the other literary in- stitutions of the country,is impatient of being surpassed by any among them in the power and will to impart knowl- edge to youth, and secure the exten- sive patronage which it has hitherto ob- tamed from the near and distant states of the Union. MISCELLANIES. EDUCATION OF TIlE BLIND. Dr. S. G. Howe, who, ten months ago, went to Europe, for the purpose of exam- ining the schools for educating the Blind, has recently eturned to Boston. Dr. Howe went out as the special Agent of the New-England Asylum, and, but for the miserable policy of the Prussian Government, which prevent- ed him from visiting several important institutions in that Kingdom and Ger- many, he would have returned with a mass of practical information that mu t have been of the greatest advantage to the contemplated institution in Boston. As it is, Ile has not returned enlpty- handed. He visited several celebrated schools in England, Scotland, and rance. From an institution in Paris he has brought a young gentleman, Mr. Trencherri, to serve in the capacity of an instructor, and one every way quali- fied for the office. This young gentl& man is bout 20 years of age, and lost his sight when he was about 4. lie has no conception of colors, but 172 Miscellanies. regard to all objects, the notions of which dep~iid upon the exercise of other senses Ian that of seeing, he appears to be well informed. He has been a teacher of mathematics in the Parisian School whence he came. His knowledge of that abstruse science, and the rapidity with which he answers questions that require arithmetical ope- rations of considerable length, are truly surp~ising. The mental operation by which he arrives at the solution of a problem, is unknown. Questions of a difficult character and requiring a greater exercise of memory, such as the extraction of roots and the involution of high powers, he works out on a table with a set of types representing figures, and made for the purpose. He is an accomplished performer on the organ, piano-forte, and violin. Books for the use of the blind are psinted on thick paper, without ink, the letters being raised above the surface, by a strong impression, resembling what are called embossed cards. Such books Mr. Trencherri reads with great facility, tracing the words and letters with his fingers. On the Maps which are used at the Edinburgh School, the boundaries of states and kingdoms, rivers, and the shores of the ocean are all represented by thread or twine, glued on the surface of the map. But these are expensive and difficult of con- struction. Dr. Howe has made one or two by way of experiment, in the same manner as the books are printed, which will answer the purpose better, and be much cheaper. He has also brought home with him several specimens of articles manufactured by persons totally blind, such as lace, net-work, stockings, caps, purses, & c. that would excite ad- miration if they were the work of those who had eyes to guide their fingers; but when it is considered that they are manufactured with the assistance of but one sensethat of feelingthe spectator cannot suppress his astonish- ment. The New-England Asylum has yet but scanty means wherewith to carry on its proposed worka work which, we trust, will be a blessing to nume- rous unfortunate human beings, by enabling them to support themselves in comfort and independence. It is not expected that it will be entirely an eleemosynary institution. The pupils will feel that they can do something in return for the labor bestowed on their education, and be made comparatively happy in the consciousness that they can lay the world under obligations of a pecuniary as well as a moral char- acter. AN EEL IN TilE STOMACH. Mrs. Han- son, the wife of Samuel B. Hanson, of Belfast, Me. aged about 23, was found, eight months since, to be in a declining state of health, in consequence of what was considered a deranged state of the abdominal and thoracic viscera, origin- ating from Leucorrheaa. The symptoms were such as to warrant the presump- tion, and she was treated accordingly by several scientifie physicians, for something like six months, during which time she gradually declined in health, until the system became extremely ex- hausted and emaciated. About five weeks since, it was ascertained that a living creature of some kind, and of considerable magnitude, actually exist- ed in the stomach. This was ascertain- ed by placing the hand on the gastric region, when a vigorous squirming mo- tion was felt through the emaciated in- teguments, as well as from her own repeated and positive declarations. It was a question in the mind of her phy- sician whether, in the then existing state of exhaustion, the system could sustain the action of medicine of suffi- cient power to destroy the animal. Af- ter some deliberation and consultation with the husband and friends of the afflicted, together with the urgent so- hicitiations of the patient, it was deter- mined to make an effort, which resulted on the fourth day in the evacuation of an Eel, ten inches in length, and of the usual size. The skin and flesh were de- nuded considerably by partial digestion, but the form was sufficiently entire to convince the most incredulous of its identity. She is now in a very low state, laboring under all the symptoms of ulceration of the stomach and bow- els. She is supposed to have taken it some years since in drinking from a spring in the evening, at which tinie she was sensible of swallowing some solid substance of very small dimen- sions. The medicine given produced very little disturbance to the general system, and was sustained without much increased exhaustion. SARATOGA AND ScHENECTADY RAiL- ROAD. This road is now in successful operation from Schenectady to the vil- lage of Balston Spa. At Balston Spa, the embankment and masonry over the valley of the Kayaderosserns not being finished, passengers are taken half a mile, in post coaches, to the commence- ment of the rail-road on the north side, and from thence proceed by rail-road to Miscellanies. Saratoga Springs. The coaches on this rail-road are of a new and improved construction, fitted up in the most com- modious and elegant manner, and make their trips with the utmost regularity and despatch. Passengers leaving Al- bany at half-past six in the morning, breakfast at Schenectady, take the nine oclock train on the Saratoga rail-road, and arrive at Saratoga at half-past eleven oclock, A. M. They may dine at 2 P.M. take the return train at three,and arrive in Schenectady in time for the six oclock train on the Mohawk and Hudson road, and reach Albany at half- past 7 P. M. The two rail-roads fur- nish the citizens of Albany the means of making an excursion of more than 70 miles (without fatigue) of visiting the fashionable watering places and return- ing to rest, if they choose, on the same day, at their own homes. WHEELING. A correspondent of the New-York Advocate and Journal, at Wheeling, Va. amongst much valuable information, relating to the prosperity of manufactures, and the progress of internal improvements, in that part of the country, states that a company bad been formed with a captital of $200,000, for the purpose of facilitating the trans- portation of goods to and from Balti- more, by which line articles will be received from Fredericktown, where the rail-road terminates, in six days; which place has, within a few years, and from its being a small village, in- creased its population to the number of 7000. The writer enumerates a long list of manufacturing establishments, employing about 900 hands, and turn- ing off articles in their different lines, worth upwards of 400,000 dollars per annum; besides many other establish- ments, the value of whose productions is not estimated, because probably un- known. Immense quantities of coal are used in the place, steam-power being chiefly employed in the production of their various manufactures; and a great number of hands are of course occu- pied, and find a livelihood, in digging and supplying this article. THE DOG. At a late fire in the city of New-York, the following incident occurred, which tends in a striking de- gree,to illustrate the sagacity and fi- delity of that roost excellent animal, the dog. A young man slept in the third story of the building in which the fire originated. His dog, lying by his bed-side, scented the fire which had broken out below. He immediately en- deavored to awake his master, by lay- 173 ing his fore paws on his breast, and drawing them gently over his body. The young man aroused himself, but not suspecting the object of the animal, fell again to sleep. ihe dog then seiz- ed the bed-clothes, and stripped them off his master, who a second time cov- ered himself up and went to sleep. The dog, aware that no time was to be lost, took hold of the young mans shirt with his teeth, and tore it from his arm. At this moment, the flames were bursting into his chamber, and he saved his life by descending the tackle fall, which he threw out of the window, hand over hand. The worst of the story remains to be told. In his hurry to escape de- struction, the young man forgot that his keeper had no means of descent, and burst into a flood of tears on finding that he could not return to save him. The faithful creature perished INnIAN PROPHEcY. The Cherokee Phenix states that forty or fifty years ago, while living in their ancient rude- ness, and practising customs which now remain only as vestiges, the Cher- okees were accustomed to be addressed, when assembled in their Town houses by certain individuals, who were to be found in every village, it is a fact, however, which many living eye-wit- nesses can testify, that they actually foretold the events which are now tak- ing place in relation to the south-west- ern Indians. It was their custom, on the occasions above mentioned, to take their station and relate the traditions of the nation to the people. They would tell of the events which had happened to their forefathers and would bring their account to the time in which they lived, when a new era in their history would commence, in consequence of the approaching settlements of the white man. In speaking of the future destiny of their nation, they foretold with a remarkable exactness the princi- pal events which have since taken place in its history. This part of their address was something like the follow- ing. Ourelderbrother (meaning the white peopleusing the singular for the plural) has become our neighbor. He is now near us, and already occupies our ancient habitations. But this is as our forefathers told us. They said, my feet are turned towards the westthey are never to turn round. Now mark what our fathers told us. Your elder brother will settle around youhe will encroach upon your lands, and then ask you to sell them to him. When you 174 Miscellanies. give him a part of your country, he will not be satisfied, but ask for more. In process of time he will ask you to become like him. He will tell you that your mode of life is not as good as his, whereupon you will be induced to make great roads through the nation, by which he can have free access to you. He will learn your women to spin and weave and make clothes, and learn you to cultivate the earth. He will even teach you his language and learn you to read and write. But these are but the means to destroy you, and to eject you from your habitations. He will point you to the west, but you will find no resting place there, for your elder brother will drive you from one place to another until you get to the great western watersThese things will certainly happen, but it will be when we are dead and gone. We shall not live to see and feel the misery which will come upon you. Such in substance was a portion of their speeches, and it is that which we have denominated prophecyand as to the fulfilment, let the reader judge for himself. NEWLY nsscovxnan CAVE IN PENN- SYLVANIA. A few weeks ago, Mr. Reese, of Peters township, Franklin county, living on the base of North Mountain, was about to dig for water; and, as there is a very large spring issu- ing out of the rocks, at the foot of a hill of considerable height, and a kind of sink-hole some distance above the spring, he thought he probably could come on the streamaccordingly he commenced digging in the sinkhole, and had proceeded but a few feet, when he could plainly hear the water running, seemingly with great rapidity; and at the distance of about twenty feet from the surface, came to the water, at the lower extremity of a fissure in the rock, which immediately expanded into a large and beautiful cavern, the entrance of which is partially obstructed by loose rocks, which, after advancing a little distance, entirely disappear, and instead of loose rubbish, solid rocks appear en- ameled with spar of different colors. In every direction are to be seen the most beautiful icicles (stalactites) sus- pended from its noble, and in some places, majestic ceiling. Concretions, without number, and of almost every color, size and dimension, are seen pointing downwards from the ceiling, and inwards from the sloping walls some white, some red, some brown, some gre en, and others transparent as glass, and all solid as marble. They threaten the curious adventurer with being torn to pieces by their craggy points, if he attempts penetrating any further into it; and indeed, in some places he is obliged to proceed in a stooping position, in order to avoid them. In proceeding up this subterra- neous passage, you are obliged to walk in the run nearly all the way. The run is in some places dry at the present season of the year. Yet it is evident from the bed of the run, and other visible marks of the water that in some parts of the year the wa- ter must flow through the different channels in large quantities. Even at this time there is a great deal running through it, but mostly through chan- nels along-side the principal one, as is evident from the great noise it makes, in falling over the craggy rocks which impede its progress. There are in the principal channel several falls, which might very properly be denominated cataractsthe extent of the cave is yet unknown, as it has been but partially explored; the great- est distance any person has been up it yet, is about 800 feet, at which dis- tance there was no appearance of its termination. In ascending this cave, the eye is most agreeably struck with its grandeuras at every step new won- ders present themselveshere is the spar formed into trees, shrubs, & c. which make it have the appearance of a petrified grovein some places the spar is formed into the likeness of men, birds, beasts, organs, & c. and in one place, raised on a pedestal, is a striking resemblance of a half unfurled flag. Besides this, there are hundreds of other likenesses, which I shall not at- tempt a description of. When we first saw them, we were only surprised at their diversity and beauty, but on a more minute examination, we were struck with amazement, knowing them to be mere productions of nature; who hitherto, in solitary silence, had, in her playful moments, unseen and unheard, dressed the scene as if for her own a- musement. [Private Letter.] Nxw 0 NAIIENTAL TEE . The A- merican Farmer announces the receipt of the seed mentioned in the following extract of a letter from Commodore Porter, to J. S. Skinner, Esq. of Balti- more, dated Constantinople, Feb. 16, 1832. I now send you what will be a curi- osity in the United States, the seed of the Guul-aghad, or the rare tree. It is the most beautiful thing of the kind I have ever seen. It grows to the size of Our File. 175 an ordinary orchard apple-tree, throws ly that of the locust bean, and if the out many branches extending horizon- planting and treatment should be the tally, and affords a most delightful same as would be practised in the plant- shade. It is literally covered with flow- ing and treatment of the locust, you ers of a dark pink color, and from the cannot go far wrong. The tree is a smell ,thou ~ h not from any resemblance, rare tree here, and I was informed by I should suppose it to be of the family the Armenian from whom I obtained of the Acacia, which is of the nature of the seeds, that it was a native of Persia. the locust. This tree in no wise re- Its name in Turkish is Guul, (rare) sembles the locust, except in the seed- Aghadj, (tree) and is pronounced Goo- pod and the seed. The bean is precise- lagadegh. OUR FILE. TuE GALEMAN. We have had on our file for a month or more a new paper printed at Galena, for which we are indebted to the courtesy, probably, of some unknownfriend. It contains a communication of considerable length, and xvritten in somewhat of an angry mood, commenting on an article published in the Magazine for September, 1831, entitled The Lead Mines of the Upper Mis- sissippi. It char es the writer with numerous falsehoods and misrepresentations, and more than insinuates that he must have been moved thereto by a wicked motive. We have recently seen the writer of the offensive article and submitted the animadversions of the Galenian to his inspection. He re-affirms most of his original statements, as records of occurrences that came within his personal knowledge, and the others as obtained from sources, the credibility of which he had no reason to doubt. He left on our table replies, in detail, to many of tho remarks in the Galenian, to publish which could be of little utility; but we echo one of them, when we express our wonder that one of his descriptions, which is declared to contain scarcely a word of truth, is yet so accurate that the writer in the Galenian has made a personal application of it, and pronounces it to have been intended for his excellent fellow-citizen, Major-General Dodge, although our contributor mentioned no name, and, we believe, did not know the name of the individual, whose appearance and exploit he was thus describing. As to the motive of our correspondent,we are not, like Tristram Shandys father, invete- rate motive-mongers, and give no judgement on that point; but we participate in his astonishment, that he is charged with slander, and an attack on the citizens of Galena and the mining country. We never viewed his contribution in that light, and really thought it rather complimentary than otherwise, towards an enterprizing, active and adventurous portion of fellow-citizens. ~L9~ We should be pleased to number the writer in the Galenian among the contributors to the New-England Magazine, and will thankfully receive an account of the pro- gress of population, arts, improvements, & c. of the mining districtwith this special proviso, that he shall not charge us with attacking or slandering the citizens of Galena in the publication, nor sneer at the Legislature of Massa- chusetts when they undertake to legislate for the preservation of the Heath Hen. The Dying Parsee is not so good as its author might have made it. We know of nothing so intolerable as tolerable poetry. Domestic Manners of the French, Saul Knapp ; the Life of a Yankee, My Books, are on hand for publication. Brattle Buttolph is disposed of agreeably to his request. Ulli We claim the credit of adding nothing this month to the national stock of bad poetry..

Our File 175-176

Our File. 175 an ordinary orchard apple-tree, throws ly that of the locust bean, and if the out many branches extending horizon- planting and treatment should be the tally, and affords a most delightful same as would be practised in the plant- shade. It is literally covered with flow- ing and treatment of the locust, you ers of a dark pink color, and from the cannot go far wrong. The tree is a smell ,thou ~ h not from any resemblance, rare tree here, and I was informed by I should suppose it to be of the family the Armenian from whom I obtained of the Acacia, which is of the nature of the seeds, that it was a native of Persia. the locust. This tree in no wise re- Its name in Turkish is Guul, (rare) sembles the locust, except in the seed- Aghadj, (tree) and is pronounced Goo- pod and the seed. The bean is precise- lagadegh. OUR FILE. TuE GALEMAN. We have had on our file for a month or more a new paper printed at Galena, for which we are indebted to the courtesy, probably, of some unknownfriend. It contains a communication of considerable length, and xvritten in somewhat of an angry mood, commenting on an article published in the Magazine for September, 1831, entitled The Lead Mines of the Upper Mis- sissippi. It char es the writer with numerous falsehoods and misrepresentations, and more than insinuates that he must have been moved thereto by a wicked motive. We have recently seen the writer of the offensive article and submitted the animadversions of the Galenian to his inspection. He re-affirms most of his original statements, as records of occurrences that came within his personal knowledge, and the others as obtained from sources, the credibility of which he had no reason to doubt. He left on our table replies, in detail, to many of tho remarks in the Galenian, to publish which could be of little utility; but we echo one of them, when we express our wonder that one of his descriptions, which is declared to contain scarcely a word of truth, is yet so accurate that the writer in the Galenian has made a personal application of it, and pronounces it to have been intended for his excellent fellow-citizen, Major-General Dodge, although our contributor mentioned no name, and, we believe, did not know the name of the individual, whose appearance and exploit he was thus describing. As to the motive of our correspondent,we are not, like Tristram Shandys father, invete- rate motive-mongers, and give no judgement on that point; but we participate in his astonishment, that he is charged with slander, and an attack on the citizens of Galena and the mining country. We never viewed his contribution in that light, and really thought it rather complimentary than otherwise, towards an enterprizing, active and adventurous portion of fellow-citizens. ~L9~ We should be pleased to number the writer in the Galenian among the contributors to the New-England Magazine, and will thankfully receive an account of the pro- gress of population, arts, improvements, & c. of the mining districtwith this special proviso, that he shall not charge us with attacking or slandering the citizens of Galena in the publication, nor sneer at the Legislature of Massa- chusetts when they undertake to legislate for the preservation of the Heath Hen. The Dying Parsee is not so good as its author might have made it. We know of nothing so intolerable as tolerable poetry. Domestic Manners of the French, Saul Knapp ; the Life of a Yankee, My Books, are on hand for publication. Brattle Buttolph is disposed of agreeably to his request. Ulli We claim the credit of adding nothing this month to the national stock of bad poetry.. 176 LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. RECENTLY PUBLISHED. By J. 11. Eastborri, BostonAn Oration de- livered before the Officers of the Militia, and Members of the Volunteer companies of Boston and the Vicinity, on the 4th of July, 1832, at their request. By Colonel Edward C. Prescott. An Oration, delivered July 4, 1832, before the City Council and Inhabitants of Boston, by Josiah tAnincy, jun. By E. W. Metcalf & Co. CambridgeAn Ad- dress, delivered May 30, A. D. 1832, at the Ded- ication of the Masonic Temple in Boston. By Bernard Whitman. By Carter & Hendee, BostonHistory of the late Polish Revolution, and the Events of the Campaign, by Joseph Hordynski, Major of the late Tenth Regiment of Lithunian Lancers. 1 vol. 8vo. [This work is published for subscrib- ers only, and can be procured only of the pub- lishers or their agent.] By Hilliard, Gray & CoElements of Chem- istry; including the recent discoveries and doc- trines of the science. By Edward Turner, M. D. F. R. S.; fourth American from third Lon- don edition with notes and emendations by Franklin Bache, M. D.The Speeches of the celebrated Irish orators, Phillips, Curran and Grattan.A Dissertation on employing Emula- tion to encourage Literary Excellence. By W. Hyde & Co. BostonSermons, by the late Rev. Charles Jenkins, Pastor of the third Congregational Church, Portland. By Perkins & Marvin, BostonThe Young Christian: or, a familiar illustration of the principles of Christian Duty. By Jacob Abbot, Principal of the Mount Vernon Female School, Boston. By Thompson & Homans, WashingtonThe American Pharos, or Light-Bouse Guide founded on the reports received at the Treas- ury Department, from the Superintendents of the Light Houses of the United States. Also, a general View of the Coast, from the St. Croix River to the Mouth of the Sabine. By Robert Mitts, P. A. Engineer and Architect, Member of the Colombian Instittute. By H. Hall, PhiladelphiaLegends of the West. By James Hall, author of Letters from the West, & c. Contentsi The Backwoods- man ; 2 The Divining Rod ; 3 The Seventh Son; 4 The Missionaries; 5 The Indian XVifes La- ment; 6 A Legend of Carondelet; 7 The Intes- tate; S Michael Do Coucy; 9 The Emigrants; 10 Ihe Barrack-masters Dauhter ; 11 The Indian Hater; 12 The Isle of Yellow Sands. By J. & J. Harper, New-YorkJournal of an Expedition to explore the course and termina- tion of the Niger; with the Narrative of a Voyage down that river to its termination. By Richard and John Lander. In two vols. Il- lustrated with engravings and maps. IN PRESS. Gray & Bowen have in Press the following valuable and interesting WorksThe Token and Atlantic Souvenir, for 1832. Edited by S. G. Goodrich. [By an arrangement with the pro- prietors of the Atlantic Souvenir, that work will hereafter he united with the Token, under the title of the Token and Atlantic Souvenir. It will be edited by S. G. Goodrich, Esq. No pains or expense will be spared to make this volume not only an improvement upon former ones of either work, but one which shall be creditable and honorable to the country, and able to stand a favorable comparison with the best of the English annuals. The great favor with which the volume of the Token for 1832 was received, has been an incitement to in- creased exertion, and the result, it is believed, will prove that the endeavor has not been in vain. It will be of the same size and general plan with the Token for 1832, and will be em- bellished with twenty engravings.]A Diction- ary of Biography, comprissug the most emi- nent characters of all ages, nations, and pro- fessions. By R. A. Davenport. First Ameri- can edition, with numerous additions, correc- tions, and improvements; and illustrated by two hundred fine Portraits, on woodAmer- ican Almanac, and Repository of Useful Knowledge. Vol. III. for 1833.Discours- es on various subjects, by William Ellery Channing, D. D. [This volume is composed entirely of sermons never before published. It will be issued very shortly, in one duodecimo volume.] Mensoirs of the Life and Times of the late Commodore Barney, prepared from Auto- graphical Manuscripts in the possession of his family, by Mary Barney. [The Times of the late Commodore Barney, embrace the two most interesting and important events of the eigh- teenth century, namely, the .6lmerican and French Re,otutisns; and the War of 1812 be- tween the United States and Great Britain ; in all of which he was eminently distinguished by his chivalrous and gallant conduct. 1 vol. 12mo.]The American Annual Register, for 183031, being vol. VI. [This volume will be issued in a very short time. No pains will he spared to render it equal to the expectations of its friends and the public.]

Literary Intelligence Literary Intelligence 176

176 LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. RECENTLY PUBLISHED. By J. 11. Eastborri, BostonAn Oration de- livered before the Officers of the Militia, and Members of the Volunteer companies of Boston and the Vicinity, on the 4th of July, 1832, at their request. By Colonel Edward C. Prescott. An Oration, delivered July 4, 1832, before the City Council and Inhabitants of Boston, by Josiah tAnincy, jun. By E. W. Metcalf & Co. CambridgeAn Ad- dress, delivered May 30, A. D. 1832, at the Ded- ication of the Masonic Temple in Boston. By Bernard Whitman. By Carter & Hendee, BostonHistory of the late Polish Revolution, and the Events of the Campaign, by Joseph Hordynski, Major of the late Tenth Regiment of Lithunian Lancers. 1 vol. 8vo. [This work is published for subscrib- ers only, and can be procured only of the pub- lishers or their agent.] By Hilliard, Gray & CoElements of Chem- istry; including the recent discoveries and doc- trines of the science. By Edward Turner, M. D. F. R. S.; fourth American from third Lon- don edition with notes and emendations by Franklin Bache, M. D.The Speeches of the celebrated Irish orators, Phillips, Curran and Grattan.A Dissertation on employing Emula- tion to encourage Literary Excellence. By W. Hyde & Co. BostonSermons, by the late Rev. Charles Jenkins, Pastor of the third Congregational Church, Portland. By Perkins & Marvin, BostonThe Young Christian: or, a familiar illustration of the principles of Christian Duty. By Jacob Abbot, Principal of the Mount Vernon Female School, Boston. By Thompson & Homans, WashingtonThe American Pharos, or Light-Bouse Guide founded on the reports received at the Treas- ury Department, from the Superintendents of the Light Houses of the United States. Also, a general View of the Coast, from the St. Croix River to the Mouth of the Sabine. By Robert Mitts, P. A. Engineer and Architect, Member of the Colombian Instittute. By H. Hall, PhiladelphiaLegends of the West. By James Hall, author of Letters from the West, & c. Contentsi The Backwoods- man ; 2 The Divining Rod ; 3 The Seventh Son; 4 The Missionaries; 5 The Indian XVifes La- ment; 6 A Legend of Carondelet; 7 The Intes- tate; S Michael Do Coucy; 9 The Emigrants; 10 Ihe Barrack-masters Dauhter ; 11 The Indian Hater; 12 The Isle of Yellow Sands. By J. & J. Harper, New-YorkJournal of an Expedition to explore the course and termina- tion of the Niger; with the Narrative of a Voyage down that river to its termination. By Richard and John Lander. In two vols. Il- lustrated with engravings and maps. IN PRESS. Gray & Bowen have in Press the following valuable and interesting WorksThe Token and Atlantic Souvenir, for 1832. Edited by S. G. Goodrich. [By an arrangement with the pro- prietors of the Atlantic Souvenir, that work will hereafter he united with the Token, under the title of the Token and Atlantic Souvenir. It will be edited by S. G. Goodrich, Esq. No pains or expense will be spared to make this volume not only an improvement upon former ones of either work, but one which shall be creditable and honorable to the country, and able to stand a favorable comparison with the best of the English annuals. The great favor with which the volume of the Token for 1832 was received, has been an incitement to in- creased exertion, and the result, it is believed, will prove that the endeavor has not been in vain. It will be of the same size and general plan with the Token for 1832, and will be em- bellished with twenty engravings.]A Diction- ary of Biography, comprissug the most emi- nent characters of all ages, nations, and pro- fessions. By R. A. Davenport. First Ameri- can edition, with numerous additions, correc- tions, and improvements; and illustrated by two hundred fine Portraits, on woodAmer- ican Almanac, and Repository of Useful Knowledge. Vol. III. for 1833.Discours- es on various subjects, by William Ellery Channing, D. D. [This volume is composed entirely of sermons never before published. It will be issued very shortly, in one duodecimo volume.] Mensoirs of the Life and Times of the late Commodore Barney, prepared from Auto- graphical Manuscripts in the possession of his family, by Mary Barney. [The Times of the late Commodore Barney, embrace the two most interesting and important events of the eigh- teenth century, namely, the .6lmerican and French Re,otutisns; and the War of 1812 be- tween the United States and Great Britain ; in all of which he was eminently distinguished by his chivalrous and gallant conduct. 1 vol. 12mo.]The American Annual Register, for 183031, being vol. VI. [This volume will be issued in a very short time. No pains will he spared to render it equal to the expectations of its friends and the public.]

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The New-England magazine. / Volume 3, Issue 3 New England magazine American monthly review American monthly magazine J. T. and E. Buckingham Boston Sept 1832 0003 003
Europe Original Papers 177-186

1~HE NEW-ENGLAND MAGAZINK SEPTEMBER, 1832. ORIGINAL PAPERS~. EUROPE. T is the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before. Trw study of past and passing events is principally useful in en- abling us to judge of the future; and the favorite occupation of the old man, or the retired politician, is to turn~his experience into a telescope,. with which to satisfy his curiosity in peering into futurity. Napoleon was a sage while hut a youth; his eagle spirit, when chained down upon the rock of St. Helena, and prevented from heav- ing up the earth with its throes, oft bent its eye upon the future;. and it was while glancing into its mists, that he saw the forecast shadows of the events we now witness, and issued the remarkable prophecy, that, in fifty years, Europe will be Russian or Republican. Dans cinquante ans 1 Europe sera Republicain ou Cossaque. T is nature that forms nations and stamps upon them those traits which constitute nationality; t is man who forms states and kingdoms: these, when formed from discordant materials, ever tend to dissolu- tion the moment the artificial bands which hold them together are relaxed; and when society is breaking up, people obey laws similar to those of chemical bodies, and each atom clings to the atom for which it has the greatest affinity, until a solid and unique mass is formed. But the discordant materials which are united to form the great political families of Europe, are not the only, nor even the principal causes of that agitation,that surging to and fro of popular excite- ment, which, like the restless ocean billow is ever beating against or undermining the barriers of Governments, and before which those barriers must sooner or later be prostrated. It has become a trite observation, that the rulers are arraying them- selves against the ruled, and that to a king, the word subject is almost tantamount to that of enemy; but the struggles that we have witnessed are only forerunners to that great contest which is fast approaching, and which has been long foreseen by those politicians who have taken VOL. in. 23 178 Europe. the horoscope of futurity. Napoleon alluded to it in the words we have quoted; and so did Byron, when he said * ~ but, never mind ,God save the King! and Kings! For if he do nt, I doubt if men will longer. I think I hear a little bird, who sings, The people bye and bye will be the stronger: The veriest jade will wince, whose harness wrings So much into the raw as quite to wrong her Beyond the rules of posting,and the mob At last fall sick of imitating Job. At first it grumbles, then it swears, and then, Like David, flings smooth pebbles gainst a giant; At last it takes to weapons, such as men Sn~itch when despair makes human hearts less pliant.. Then comes the tug of war ;t will come again 1 rather doubt; and I would fain say, fle on If I had not perceived that revolution .dlone could save the earth from hells pollution. Now this doctrine, although preached years ago, is sound political orthodoxy ; every precept is a half-accomplished prophecy, and every line might furnish matter for a long sermon. Aye! the mob, alias the people, get sick of imitating Job ; they have done so in many countries within a few years, and in England within a few months. They grumbled until they forced the aristo- crats to take their case into consideration; they swore at the delay in granting their just demand for reform; and they took to weapons when their favorites were hurled from place and power; and then, yes, even then, would have come the tug of ~var, had not the aris- tocrats perceived the dreadful spirit whicil pervaded the kingdom, and wisely retracted in time. It is evident to one who examines into the state of public feeling in England on the news of the downfall of the Grey ministry, that the country was on the eve of a revolution; that every man was instinct- ively casting his eye about him in search of a weapon; that if the sheet anchor of the peoples hopesthe House of Commonshad been parted, and the tories continued but forty-eight hours in their mad career,then would patience and forbearance have been at an end, then would the knife have been grasped instead of the pen, and the feel- ings of the people been expressed by their muskets muzzles, rather than by peaceful petitions. There is in England and in Ireland an immense class, whom physical suffering and moral degradation have rendered callous to every call but that of interest,reckless of every restraint but that of fear. To address the reason, to appeal to the loyalty of these men, would be to reason with the raging whirlwind, to talk to the hissing adder; the patriot and the prudent man are unheeded, while the demagogue and the agftator who appeal to the passions, are answered with the thundering huzza of the thousands whose only argument is a shout, and whose only reply is a blow. The physical force of the country is in the hands of these men; but as we have said, they are under the restraint of fear, and the whole- some moral influence of the middling classas they formerly were under that of the aristocracy. But let this middling class only take away the iiurope~ 179 barrier of its influence, and we should see how far the wild wave of popular fury will go; let but the middling interest in England, as did the bourgoisie in France, but once cry bravo to the mob, and it will sweep away throne, and mitre, and ermine, in one common ruin, and plunge the resisting bayonet of the soldier in his own bosom. In England, too, there exists every facility for arming the mob; such towns as Birmingham, and Leeds, and Sheffield, are but immense depots of arms; and at the beckon of such a man as Thomas Attwood, their stores would yield up more weapons than could be forthcoming by the warrant of the Lord Lieutenant of the Tower. In such a country as England, men arm not but with the intention of using their weapons; and ~vhen one considers, (what was really the fact,) that on the news of the downfall of the Grey Ministry, tens of thousands, and hundreds of thousands, did actually arm themselves, one trembles to think of what would have been the consequence, had a few days been suffered to expire without calming the people. The patriotic Unions were filling up with thousands of new members daily; they openly wore their badges, and they secretly prepared their arms, and they sternly, resolved to do or die, should the Tories attempt to thwart their project of reform. We have it from a friend, who had it from the mouth of Attwood himseW that on the night of the greatest excitement, he was awakened by his sons entering his room, sword in hand, and saying, Father, take mother and the children and fly to America, for the people are determined to appeal to arms ! Well then, said Attwood, rising, in Gods name, since it must he so, I will bide with them to the last; and if our enemies force us to fight for our rights, we will do it man- fully, and all together. But happily for England, happily for the world, warning was taken in time; even the bold, the obstinate Wellington was daunted; he was obliged to throw up the hardly assumed reins, and confess to his King, that he could not guide the car of state without risking the com- mon ruin of rulers and ruled. Well then, the King yielded, and the Toriei retired, and the Whigs picked up the abandoned reins, and the Peers consented to a virtual violation of the constitution,for it is only by a violation of the spirit of the constitution that the Reform Bill can have passed. Does not any law, to become constitutional, require to have the consent of the three powers of the realm? has not the majority of the Peers solemnly declared this Reform Bill to be destructive of the constitution, and ruinous to the country? and is it not the sworn, the sacred duty of the Peers, to oppose, with their vote, any measure which they consider as such? and yet, do they not voluntarily and purposely abandon their posts, and refrain from votingthus indirectly helping to pass the Bill ? British Peers,men of stern courage, and of undoubted patriotism have thus acted; and how can we account for their conduct, but by supposing that if they considered the passage of the Bill as eventually destructive to the institutions of the country, they considered its rejec- tion as immediately so? And now that the people have their Bill, will they be any more con~ tept; will their hopes be realized; will the real and supposed miseries of the land be lightened? By ne manner of means; nor can we cou~ 180 Europe~ ceive how ever so reformed a Parliament can concede all the people demand, until the vote by ballot, and universal suffrage shall open the door to enormous evils; and it is too well known in what horror the ballot-box is held in England to suppose that it will soon be conceded. For a long time the House of Commons must be filled by Repre- sentatives of the landed interest, and will such men, can such men consent to a radical change in the Corn Laws? They must and will resist it, as surely as the people will continue to call for it; and when the collision comes, either on this or any other great question, it is not to be doubted who will carry the day; for as the aristocracy is now sinking beneath the attacks of the middling and lower ranks, so shall the middling interest, at no distant day, be overwhelmed by the demo- cratical one. No House of Commons can accomplish all which the people so san- guinely expect, and without which they will not be satisfied; and, as we have mentioned the Corn Laws, they may serve to exemplify the strange snarl [to use a homely term] into which various British inter- ests have got entangled. It is well known that the object of the Corn Laws is to encourage the landed proprietor at the expense of the consumer, by limiting the supply of foreign grain; and that, although several million acres of cultivable land are lying waste in the United Kingdoms, the quantity of grain produced is not sufficient to supply the country with bread. In spite of this fact, however, direct encouragement is given to the consumption of grain in the production of ardent spirits; and a pro- hibitory duty is laid upon the rum of the British West-India Colonies, which Colonies are absolutely at the last gasp of existence,are actu- ally perishing from commercial distress. Here the Colonial planter, and the consumer in England are sensibly injured by the protection given to the distiller; yet, if one would do justice to the former, he must ruin the latter, and violate the tacitly pledged faith of the Gov- ernment to continue the protecting system under which he was induced to invest his capital. This is a case in point, and he who would study the intricate maze into which British interests have become plunged, by a deviation from the plain principles of free trade, would do well to examine the state of the West-India Colonies. It is a most interesting subject; but we shall merely observe here that the planters are in a wretched condition; that their sugars are and have been selling in England for sixpence a hundred weight less than cost; that they are almost all deeply in debt, and yet cannot abandon their plantations, on which they live in continual fear of their lives. The great principles of justice are immutable, and evil must eventu- ally result from wrong. Thus it is but a few score years ago that we saw Britain, in a public treaty, agreeing to pay to Spain a certain sum of money, in order to secure to her merchant ships the privilege of sup- plying the Spanish Colonies with cargoes of human beings from the coast of Africa to-day she forbids the importation of slaves into her own Colonies; and what is the consequence? Why, that the Spanish planter can get his slaves for about two hundred dollars, while it costs the British planter more than four hundred dollars to raise them him- self; while from the recent regulations of Government, such protection Europe. 181 is given to the slaves, that the British planter cannot get more than thirty-five working slaves out of a gang of a hundred, while his rivals get double that number, and from these, and various similar causes, he is unable to cope with his rivals in other slave-holding countries, and is fast going to ruin. There is at present great excitement in England on the subject of the abolition of the slave-trade, which the people are determined to have, coute qui coute; and they are pursuing a course which will lose them the West-India Colonies and utterly ruin the planters. And when they have succeeded, will they have advanced a step to- wards the abolition of slavery? We say, confidently, no! And when Spain, and Portugal, and Brazil, shall join the compact with England, France, and the United States, and prevent a single slave from being brought across the Atlantic, will the curse and the disgrace of slavery be removed from the earth? Far from it! The Portuguese will resume their plantations on the coast of Africa, other nations will imitate them; and the poor negro will gladly sell his brother to the planter, who can thus get his slave cheaper, and replace him easier when he shall have worn him out, than he has been able to do in the Western hemisphere. We have cited the case of the British West-India Colonies to show how the unnatural fostering of various interests may, in the end, become destructive to that very interest itself; and to point out one of the thousand difficulties which any ministry of England must grapple with and subdue, ere the country can become tranquil arid safe. Let the evil be ever so gross, let the injury done to one class or to the majority of the people be ever so great, still the Government cannot arrest it without striking a blow at some one set of men; nor can it, by any pos- sible means, suddenly get out of the present trammels, and adopt a system of free trade. What could have been more apparent than that the interests of four fifths of the British public required the passage of the Timber Bill; and yet, did not the present ministry strive in vain to pass it? The immense inequalities in fortune, the great wealth and influence of a favored few, the enormous commercial monopoliesin fine, the accumulation of the corn of the earth into a few great heaps, are among the causes of the uneasiness and distress so prevalent in Eng- land; distress which is so common, and has been so much talked og that little attention is paid to it. But it is, to the close observer, a dreadful, an unnatural state, and one which cannot long exist; it can- not be that, with the rapid dissemination of knowledge, the class in which reside the physical force of the country shall not perceive, that it is their forbearance alone which leaves to the single rich man enough to remove the want and miseries of a thousand poor. It is dreadful to reflect upon that state of society in which tens of thousands of industrious beings, who toil from morn till midnight, are miserably lodged, poorly clad, and but half fed. Good God! are they not of the same flesh and blood, and just as deserving by nature as he who, lolling in his chariot, splashes them with mud as they plod on barefoot in the gutter? The effect of the system actually in operation in England, and in every artificial state of society, (and America is corning rapidly to it) 182 Europe~ is to take away from him who hath not, and give unto him who hath; to make the many work hard, that the few may work not at all; and that the sweat of the hard-working man may go to fatten the soil of him who toileth not at all. Is not every additional hour of daily labor which is wrung from the tired and fainting working-man, so wrung, merely that the rich man may sit an hour longer over his wine, or wile away an hour more with his mistress? And are the working classes at all considered for the immense good they do ?are the bees respected by the drones ?is aught done to raise, or comfort, or improve them as a class? Alas, nothing! they are despised and trampled upon, and the rich use their elevation as levers to increase their pressure upon the poor. There is no communion in England between the rich and poor; there are no words of condolence and comfort, no attempt to raise moral man; but the despised poor lose caste, and in our enlightened age the workmen are the very pariahs of society. We have entered their factories and seen the wan and sickly hue, the stinted and rickety frames of the children who work fourteen hours per day; we have descended into the bowels of the earth, and in the mines of coal, or slate, or metal, we have seen children toiling and sweating, naked almost to the waist, and so begrimmed with dirt that a girl could not be distinguished from a boy; we have contemplated the misery of the poor in so many hundred shapes, and always with such a tendency to increase, that when the thought flashed on us that they might rise in despair, we could not condemn them; for as Byron says, we perceived CC that revolution Alone can save the earth from hells pollution. And can there be no means of averting the storm which lowers so darkly over the political horizon of England, and which, if it burst,, must sweep away with what is bad, much that is beautiful, and venera ble, and good? We believe that such means do exist, and most heartily do we pray that they may be found and put in action; for though we do not think that any convulsion, or any change, could induce the freemen of Britain to rest content with an iota less of liberty than they now enjoy; still we could not look on and see without a sigh, the destruction of that proud legislative fabric under which the power and influence of this little isle has been fostered and developed, until it has spread over the wide world, and surpassed that of the mightiest of empires. Much may be hoped from the almost all-enduring patience of the people, and the strong, though imperceptible curb of moral restraint by which they are withheld from excesses. But much more is to be expected from the plans and hopes held out, of a gradual change being effected in the social state of the country, by which the huge heaps of the earths goods may be diminished and subdivided among the people. When once a difficulty is appreciated and understood~ it may be grappled with; and the people of England, who now understand what they want, and see what stands in the way of the accomplishment of their wishes, will find the means of removing it; and though the first experiments may be imperfect, following ones will succeed. To us, one of the most important events of the age seems the foriua~ Europe. 183 tion of the co-operative societies in England; institutions ~v1iich are probably destined to work a mighty social revolution, and bring back men to that state of comparative equality, in point of property, from which they will again start in the race of abusive and pernicious mo- nopoly, until a new reform shall become necessary. The design and end of these societies may be explained in a few words; they are to counteract the undue influence of the rich, and to prevent the monopolizing operations of great capitalists, who work the less the more they possess, and yet continue to increase the rolling avalanche of their wealth, by licking up the gains of thousands of the poor. The mechanics, and what we should call the middling interest, unite into societies of several thousands, establish a common store, from whence they procure all kinds of goods at little over the wholesale price; they manufacture almost every thing necessary for man, and, by avoiding the expense of commissions and agents, give a good price to the manufacturer, at the same time that they sell cheap to the consumer. They establish banks, and the laboring class give what are called labor notes; for instance, a mason wishes for a coat, and he gets it from the public store at the lowest price, and gives his note for ten or twenty days labor; and the tailor or the cloth manufacturer, who wishes to build, presents the notes to the mason, who comes forward and works them out. In many instances these societies have been increased to three thousand members; they have established stores, banks, and factories; they have bought extensive tracts of land, which they divide or lease out among their members; and endeavor, in every possible way, to live within themselves, and prevent the great capitalist or the extensive land owner from profiting by their wants. The first experiments were mostly unsuccessful; but the causes of failure were apparent, and have been corrected: new societies have been formed; they are now in the full career of prosperity, and we hail with joy the prospect of their final success. We know that such societies are called combinations to ruin the capitalists and the great land owners: we grant the charge to be a true one, and we sincerely pray God that the object may be effected. We respect property: we would have every man enjoy the wealth he has gained, or which his fathers gained for him; but we would also prevent him from crushing the poor, and sinking them still lower in the slough of want and misery. We would give to them the means of competing fairly in the race for wealth: we would not pull back the one who is at the goal, but we would give the thousand, who are behind, the means of coming up. Do not the rich themselves co-operate, to speculate upon the wants and necessities of the poor; and shall not these unite in common de- fence; and would it not be better for the world that every palace were swept from its surface, if this could change half its huts into houses; and would it not be better that no man should be clothed in purple and fine linen, if thus the filth and rags of the beggar could be exchanged for clean and comfortable garments? lit is not a Pitt or a Fox, it is not a Grey or a Wellington, it is not this party or that party, that can save the majority of the British nation 184 Europe. from being virtually the slaves, the worse than hewers of wood and drawers of water for the minority; but it is the good understanding and the extensive union of the people themselves, that can effect the great and necessary revolution, in the political and social state of the people. That there must be a revolution, is inevitable; call it reform, call it amelioration, call it what you will, there must he a change, by fair means or by force. We propose in another number to cast a similar glance at the social and political condition of the continental nations, and to show how our own institutions, which we prize so lightly, as rashly to tamper with and peril, are held abroad to he the envy and wonder of the world. Yes, the American may well be proud of his country and her institutions; and when he moves about in Europe, he will oft feel a thrill of delight at hearing her praises repeated from a thousand lips, if perchance he does not blush and tremble at the thought that she may in a little, very little time, no longer merit them. America is the watch-word, the rallying cry of all the discontented in Europe; the republican in France, the patriot in Spain and Italy, the optimist in Germany, and the liberal every where, point to her as a bright and glorious light to the world; they point to her existence, as a refutation of the arguments of their statesmen; and to her national prosperity, as a striking contrast to their national misery. Liberal principles have already extended themselves from Naples to Stockholm, and from Lisbon to Moscow; in that vast space,among the thou- sands and millions of liberals, who mourn over the sad situation of their respective countries, there is not one who does not sigh for such insti- tutions as ours; and though many regard the attainment of them as impossible, there are many others, who are ready to plunge into the dreary waste of revolutionto wade through the bloody waves of war, to gain the Palestine of their hopesthe enjoyment of a government like ours. This feeling, which has for some time been prevalent on the Conti- nent, is now rapidly spreading through England. The late crisis has tried mens attachment to their form of government, and it has been found wanting. In the heat and excitement of the contest, the heart spake out, and the secret inclinations betrayed themselves, and men said A republican form of government is the simplest, the most rational, the most desirable: we wish not to overturn our own institu- tions; but if in the earth-quake of revolution, the temple is thrown down, we will not rebuild it upon the old model. This feeling manifested itself in a thousand instances during the late excitement; and without alluding to the ravings of Cobbett arid those of his school, with their host of admirers; or to the more respect- able Westminster, and the large class whose feelings it represents, we do confidently assert that there exists in England a great and growing admiration for American institutions. The illustrious bard whose beautiful lines we have quoted at the head of this article, said to us hut a few weeks ago,* Your country is a glorious, a happy land, and I would soon he treading her shores, * This article was written for our August number, and would have then had, perhaps, more in- terest. iiuropc. 185 did I not think it the duty of every patriotic Englishman to stand by his country in the storm which may, ere long, burst upon her. It is not the starving Irishmanit is not the furious radical alone, who looks to the United States as the el dorado,. the terra felix of the earth; there are thousands of disinterested patriots, of genuine Britons, who, but for the hope they have of the regeneration of their own be- loved land, would fly to ours. The spirit which animated our fore- fathers to abandon that lovely isle, (to which our affections cling in spite of our prejudices,) is not yet extinct in it; and there are many who, when they mourn over the rottenness and corruption of old Europe, say with Byronstill, One great clime, Whose vigorous offspring, by dividing ocean, Are kept apart and nursed in the devotion Of freedom, which their fathers fought for, and Bequeatheda heritage of heart and hand, And proud distinction from each other land, * * * * * * * Still one great clime, in full and free defiance Yet rears her crest, unconquered and sublime Above the far Atlantic! She has taught Her Esan brethren, that the haughty flag The floating fence of Albions feebler crag, May strike to those whose red right hands, have bouobt Rights cheaply earned with blood. * * * * * * * ~ * betterbe Where the extinguished Spartans still are free, In their dark charnel of Thermopyhe, Than stagnate in our marsh,or oer the deep Fly, and one current to the ocean add, One spirit to the souls, our fathers had, One freeman more, America, to thee Let then the American who distrusts the excellence of our political institutions, whose heart trembles not at the thought of a changelet him go to Europelet him look at distressed and convulsed England let him cross to distracted and unhappy Francelet him penetrate, still farther, into the regions of tyranny, and look on gagged Italy, and on bleeding Polandlet him but breathe a few months the atmosphere of despotismand he will hurry home, blessing God that his lines have fallen in pleasant places. In the name then of all that is dear, and all that is patriotic, by the toils and blood of our fathers, by the sacred interests of unborn generations, we conjure all Americans to hexv~ re how they allow the sanctuary of our political institutions to be polluted by unholy hands. We are of no party, we have no interest at stake on any question; but we love our country beyond any earthly love: we tremble at the slightest peril which threatens it; and we shudder to think that artful and unprincipled men may so far act on the honest prejudices and feelings of the many, as to induce them to sanction measures which are fatal to the purity of our institutions. That there are such men, in every party, and that they too are party leaders, we feel a melancholy certitude; men, who for the accom- plishment of a party, or personal design, would not stick at periling the palladium of our liberties, and jeopardizing the reputation or the interests of our country; and we hardly know how to put down that voi~. sir. 136 Saul Knappor tke Life of a Yankee. vengeful feeling, which would prompt us to instant and violent action. We hold such persons in greater horror than the robber or the mur- derer; and if there are beings who would be lightly punished by a long life of scorn and misery, and an eternity of torment, it is those who knowingly and wittingly endanger their country, to advance their own ends. SAUL KNAPP~OR THE LIFE OF A YANKEE. SAUL KNAPPS progenitors, as far back as chronicles enlighten us, were begot- ten and flourished as tillers of the earth in the healthy state of Vermontthe cradle of tall fellows. There it was that Saul, (to use his own words) was bred, born, and brought up. The first reminiscence of his early progress pre- sents him as a knock-kneed urchin, in crownless hat and feet guiltless of a shoe, whose time was divided between driving his fathers kine to pastore and in bein~ driven himself, wilt lie nut he, up the steep where fames proud temple shines afar, by Methusalem Birch, who taught whilome the mysteries of Pike and Webster to the youth of Sauls native village. There is no record of Sauls boy- ish abilities; but from his own recollection, it appears that he was wonderful set on by his mother, and figured upon the whole as fast as most on em. Howbeit, he was not destined to pluck daises on Parnassus; for, at the discreet age of eighteen, his education was judged complete; and, as all the young Knapps but himselffor Saul was the youngest of tenhad married and swarmed, old Mrs. Knapp was probably anxious that her Saul should be doing something in the world, which might give evidence of his rnanhood,for as to Knapp senior, he had long since abdicated the supreme authority in favor of his dame, and at this time, parcel blind and in his dotage, he was an unregarded su- pernumerary in his own establishment. Saul, accordingly transferred from Methusalems hands to the second post in the household, soon gave proofs of his genteel finish by becoming a member of the club, which met nightly at Paph Rboadess tavern, and growin~ rapidly into notice at all turkey-matches and squirrel hunts. But, as yet, the desire of Mrs. Knapps heart, that Saul should get married and carry on the line of the Knapps, at the homestead, was a remote possibility. Although he was regularly at meet- ing on Sundays, attired most gallantly in what courtesy denominated a long- tailed coat, the cynosure of the bright eyes of the five Misses Derby, whose cheeks outvied red-peppers, and whose eyes outshone the ripe fox-grapes, and of many a blooming pickIer and preserver, who thought, perchance, that the prospect of Saul and the farm was a smart chance to be aimed at; yet, despite smiles of invitation, red top-knots, and spinning-bees, quilting-parties, and Valentines curiously spelt, he was not known to be ~uilty of more than one piece of spark- ing, which, as it was so peculiar, the reader will, I am persuaded, excuse me for introducing here entire. Eunice Moray had long looked with approving eye, at Saul; and if she never told her love, she did not let concealment, like a worm i the bud, pale her cheekshe looked daggers, if she spoke none. Suppose yourself, then, reader, peeping into the apartment which served the family of farmer Moray for kitchen, parlor and all,the farmer himself, looking as if he had been taking Rip Van Winkles nap, discussing a pipe, and old Mrs. Moray watching the evo- lutions of an immense spinning-wheel, whose h~ rmonious hum gladdened the heart of the night-farcers far around with its note of comfort and borne. Suppos the gentle Eunice seated on one end of what had once been a fine maple, but which now furnished at once a primitive seat, while the other extremity, blazing in the ample fire-place, diffused both warmth and light through the apartment. The light was aided by the beanis of a dipt tallow candle, that, stuck to the back of a chair by a fork, shed its ray upon the maidens labors, as she put the last finishing touches of art to a blue woollen stocking with a white toe, destined, as may be inferred, for no other foot than her honest sires. From the rafters above,

Saul Knapp - or the Life of a Yankee Original Papers 186-192

136 Saul Knappor tke Life of a Yankee. vengeful feeling, which would prompt us to instant and violent action. We hold such persons in greater horror than the robber or the mur- derer; and if there are beings who would be lightly punished by a long life of scorn and misery, and an eternity of torment, it is those who knowingly and wittingly endanger their country, to advance their own ends. SAUL KNAPP~OR THE LIFE OF A YANKEE. SAUL KNAPPS progenitors, as far back as chronicles enlighten us, were begot- ten and flourished as tillers of the earth in the healthy state of Vermontthe cradle of tall fellows. There it was that Saul, (to use his own words) was bred, born, and brought up. The first reminiscence of his early progress pre- sents him as a knock-kneed urchin, in crownless hat and feet guiltless of a shoe, whose time was divided between driving his fathers kine to pastore and in bein~ driven himself, wilt lie nut he, up the steep where fames proud temple shines afar, by Methusalem Birch, who taught whilome the mysteries of Pike and Webster to the youth of Sauls native village. There is no record of Sauls boy- ish abilities; but from his own recollection, it appears that he was wonderful set on by his mother, and figured upon the whole as fast as most on em. Howbeit, he was not destined to pluck daises on Parnassus; for, at the discreet age of eighteen, his education was judged complete; and, as all the young Knapps but himselffor Saul was the youngest of tenhad married and swarmed, old Mrs. Knapp was probably anxious that her Saul should be doing something in the world, which might give evidence of his rnanhood,for as to Knapp senior, he had long since abdicated the supreme authority in favor of his dame, and at this time, parcel blind and in his dotage, he was an unregarded su- pernumerary in his own establishment. Saul, accordingly transferred from Methusalems hands to the second post in the household, soon gave proofs of his genteel finish by becoming a member of the club, which met nightly at Paph Rboadess tavern, and growin~ rapidly into notice at all turkey-matches and squirrel hunts. But, as yet, the desire of Mrs. Knapps heart, that Saul should get married and carry on the line of the Knapps, at the homestead, was a remote possibility. Although he was regularly at meet- ing on Sundays, attired most gallantly in what courtesy denominated a long- tailed coat, the cynosure of the bright eyes of the five Misses Derby, whose cheeks outvied red-peppers, and whose eyes outshone the ripe fox-grapes, and of many a blooming pickIer and preserver, who thought, perchance, that the prospect of Saul and the farm was a smart chance to be aimed at; yet, despite smiles of invitation, red top-knots, and spinning-bees, quilting-parties, and Valentines curiously spelt, he was not known to be ~uilty of more than one piece of spark- ing, which, as it was so peculiar, the reader will, I am persuaded, excuse me for introducing here entire. Eunice Moray had long looked with approving eye, at Saul; and if she never told her love, she did not let concealment, like a worm i the bud, pale her cheekshe looked daggers, if she spoke none. Suppose yourself, then, reader, peeping into the apartment which served the family of farmer Moray for kitchen, parlor and all,the farmer himself, looking as if he had been taking Rip Van Winkles nap, discussing a pipe, and old Mrs. Moray watching the evo- lutions of an immense spinning-wheel, whose h~ rmonious hum gladdened the heart of the night-farcers far around with its note of comfort and borne. Suppos the gentle Eunice seated on one end of what had once been a fine maple, but which now furnished at once a primitive seat, while the other extremity, blazing in the ample fire-place, diffused both warmth and light through the apartment. The light was aided by the beanis of a dipt tallow candle, that, stuck to the back of a chair by a fork, shed its ray upon the maidens labors, as she put the last finishing touches of art to a blue woollen stocking with a white toe, destined, as may be inferred, for no other foot than her honest sires. From the rafters above, Saul Knappur Me Lffe of a Yankee- 187 swung the usual ornaments of peppers and yarbs; and many a pendant cup and platter, of polished deift or shining tin, reflected back the beam of the single lu- sninary. Blue-ware and japanned pepper-boxes, iron candlesticks and a duck- gun, formed the paraphernalia of the mantle-piece, all arranged in what is calted very good taste, manifesting at once that there was the wherewithal, and what Father Paulus terms the how-withal. Now, reader, suppose our friend Saul, showing himself into this comfortable nook, with very much the air of one, who, like Leon. had stole a hen, and seating himself upon the extreme end of the log which Eunice occupied. The usual compliments passed, and the usual queries made. Saul, while he ponde s a fitting subject to begin the converse sweet, amuses himself with counting the drops of tallow, as they fell from the aforesaid dipt candle on the floor, and in picking the superfluous wool from his new hat. The old people, thinking most properly that it belonged to the young folks faire lefrais de (a conversation, took no further notice of $aul, who sat dumb as the statue of silence. Although courtship in those parts, did not then, nor does it now, manifest itself in many words, Eunice, probably, wondered at her lovers extreme bashfulness; but put- ting it all to account of her own charms, waited till love should break the spefi. Mean time the evening waned and waned. The old farmer finished his pipe, kicked his brogues into a corner, and stumped off to bed. Mrs. Moray, consider- ately remembering the time when she was herself sparked, soon followed, and the lovers were left alone. But still, not a word spake Saul. As if possessed with a dumb spirit, he sat gazing on the candle in hope to catch a spark of inspira- tion thence; but none came. The dipt tallow burned ont and was replenished; and by the time its successor had burned to its last flicker, the maiden, tired of so silent a spark, fell asleep. At last the light went outthe fire went outwhy make a short story long? Saul,what could he do else ?followed their ex- ample, and went out too. This, I believe, was the first and last of Sauls amatory visits. In vain were the attractions of the five Misses Derby displayed for conquest hebdomadally; in vain the rich Mehitable Jessup, the heiress of two hundred acres of swamp mea- dow, sent him an invite, directed in her own fair caligraph, to MR. Nap. Saul shackled about the farm, as his mother expressed it, until old Knapp slept with his fathers, and Saul the son reigned in his stead. Probably, the old farmers estate, like that of many of our modern magnates, though imposing when kept together, was cut up into rather small slices among all the Knapps, who came in for a share of it; as it appears that Saul, about this time, found it necessary to give up doing chores at home, and to mark out some new and profitable avo- cation. The next that is known of him represents our hero gracing the character of a peripatetic merchant. The smothered fire of enterprize, long smouldering, at length broke forth. His little all was invested in a new adventure, and he fol- lowed the star of fortune, at the tail of a tin cart, from north to south, from the Notch to the Alleghany. The traveler met him on every road, with his tumbril- shaped vehicle, hung round with glistenin utensils of various descriptions, whose melodious jingle rejoiced the village housewives with its accustomed mu- sic, and harbingered his approach long before he was visible. He traded and swapped his way wherever profit beckoned himhis wares decorated the kitch- ens on both sides the Potomac. Habit and intercourse polished off the roughness of the diamond, and thanks to Nature and Methusalem Birch, Saul was a genius of no common order. Wo betide the rash spirit that encountered him in a bargain, or measured strength ~vith him in a swap. His education received its finishing touch in that great school, the world, and versed in all the arts and mys- teries of transmutation and imitation, he could tell, at a glance, the portion of tallow contained in a roll of pomatum, and whether the best nutmegs were man- ufactured from hickory or black oak. Thus did Saul prosper in his vocation. Thus did wealth accumulate with ex- perience, until he found himself, one sunny morning, standing by the wate s of the mighty Ohiohis cart transmographied into a well-stocked pack, and his sorry Narraganset supplied by a walking-stick, meted into yards and inches, the cute vender of lace, tape, jewelry and calico. He had by this time visited, in turn, every corner of the country, however remote, that offered a mart for trade; nor were the most secluded settlements, where civilization reared a log-house or planted an acre of maize, secure from his penetrating and adventurous foot. In pursuit of the disxt peca ia, he climbed mountains, threaded forests an~l 188 Saul Knapp the Life of a Ya thee. swamps, swam rivers, and endured hunger and hardship with patience and per- severance that would have astonished Mungo Park. Full many a gem, and so forth; but if there was a man by nature fitted to discover the nearest road to Timbucton, or an along-shore north-west passage, thatm~ n was Saul Knapp. Such, to this day, is the eastern pedlar. Such is the stuff of which the men are made who people new worlds and revolutionize old ones. And here stood Saul upon the woody shores of the mighty tributary to the Mississippi, not far from the junction where it pours its floods into the bosom of its mighty reservoir, as the river nobly foamed and flowed before him in its ma- jesty, with its moss-covered oaks, the growth of centuries, darkening away behind him into the boundless forests untrodden by man, while opposite to him, abrupt- ly rose the banks, clothed to their summits with the rank verdure of the west, and waving with the cedar and the pine. Had Saul been either you or I, reader, a throb of admiration, might, for a while, have filled his bosom; but no fancies of this sort ever passed through Sauls pericranium. The beauty of visible objects, to him, was implied in their pecuniary utility; forests, with him, bore no associa- tion other than cords of wood ; nor did the cataract suggest any thought more sublime than a saw-mill; so, without a single romantic idea to make disturbance among his calculations of dollars and cents, ginghams and ticks, here he stood in contemplation deep, probably, more upon his probable distance from the smoke of human habitations, than in admiration of Natures works. Probably he thought, while he deposited his burthen on the grass, and drew forth his homely store of provender, that the universal dish of ham and eggs or boiled chicken, with smoking vegetables, under cover, might be far preferable to a solitary pic- nic upon bread and cheese in the woods, although far less picturesque. However, unloading himself of his pack, and drawing forth his canteen, he set to at his homely store with a travelers appetite, doubtless solacing himself with the sage reflection, that victuals are better than company; for although a cheerful dinner-party is surely an exhilarating sight, yet that no assembly is so dismal as a large company of diners on a small dinner, is incontestible. The rippling mur- mur of a rivulet was in his ear, as he poured out his eau, de vie into a hunt- ing flask, and, in obedience to the invitation, he sought and found at a small dis- tance, an insignificant stream, which leaping and chafing at the bottom of a ravine, whic h~it probably h~ d once filled with its ample waters, but into one corner of which now shrunk, by the drought, like Will Waddle of lyric celebrity, offered no unmeet illustration of pride and poverty; and had Saul been any thing of a moralist, which I have already said he was not, might have suggested a similie at the expense of many a threadbare son and daughter of somebody, who, living as the vulgar say by the skin of their teeth, keep up a constant hubble-bubble with their aristocratic ideas, their family, and are forever treading on the toes of all who have unfortunately neglected to bespeak a genealogy. Down into this ravine, at the bottom of which the little brook struggled along, like ill-weaved ambition, our hero descended, like the pilgrim after the water of truth, in the Arabian tale. He quaffed the invigorating mixture, and was turn- ing to reascend, when, with somewhat the same feelings with which Robinson Crusoe discovered the first foot-print on his island, Saul was suddenly aware, from the sound of oars and voices in his immediate vicinity, that there was, as the papers say, a new arrival. Picturesque solitudes are not exactly the places where one may expect to meet with the best company, any more than a handsome person is the abiding place of fewest bad habits. Tis true tis pity, in both cases, yet tis true. Saul, with commendable caution, screened himself under the dwarf cedars that fringed his hiding-place, and peeping out to reconnoitre the parvenus, saw, what, to use his own words, pretty considerably flabbergasted him. From his leafy covert met his eye, the unwelcome apparition of a party of Indians, in the act of land- ing from a large canoe, directly on the spot which he had so lately quitted. The party consisted of three males, with as many squaws, armed with rifles, and paint- ed war-fashiona fashion, which though mayhap becoming enough in the eyes of the Saukie beau rnonde, just then in Sauls estimation, gave their ugly physiog- nomies an aspect truly diabolical. His uncomfortable feelings were not allayed by the recollection of some little stories of a recent misunderstanding between the red-men and their white brethren, with some accompaniments of tomahawk- ing and scalping, usual in such disputes. And on this account, feeling somewhat modest at thrusting himself uninvited into the company of these sons of lamp- black and red-ochre, he re roamed snugly ensconced, until the Indians having Saul Knappor the Lffe of a Yankee. 159 noored their bark, proceeded straight to the spot where Saul had reckoned (vi ith- out his host) on making his repast. Saul, upon making to me this recital, did not deny that he began to feel queerish ; but lie assured me that it was less at the possibility of being dis- covered, than of seeing his untouched dinner and his pack at the mercy of such unscrupulous heathen. These, the savages soon discovered and pounced upon, with the same noise and avidity that a dozen modern belles would upon Miss Thompsons latest case of fashions; and little dreaming of the inverted blessings which the unfortunate proprietor was showering upon their carcasses, with a din of tonguessay what you will of Indian dignitywhich would have shamed a convention of old maids, the interlopers proceeded forthwith to overhaul the contents of his pack. In the snap of a rifle, calicoes, silks, glass-beads, gilt- brooches, cotton yarn, bandanna kerchiefs, and all the hidden stores of his trade were ransacked with an unrelenting celerity that made the spot resemble Stew- arts counter, after a morning visit from the fashionable Mrs. J. Sauls very heart turned pale within him as he beheld the beautiful prints, fondly hoped by him to turn the heads and captivate the hearts of the fair ones of Cahokia, twisted around the greasy shoulders of an ancient squaw, complexioned like unplaned mahogany and more hideous than the night-mare, and his jewelry of rich price dangling amidst tin plates and wolves teeth, from the neck of a scarlet and black warrior. Although Saul had never heard of Nessus and Dejanira, he classically wished that all the plagues of Egypt might stick to the robbers, whom he cursed by all the gods, and in all the terms known to Christian, Jew or Pagan. Tristram Shandy was a fool to himblight and pestilencedeath and annihilation were feathers to the weight of his denunciations; and in the inconsistency of his wrath, he swore to have revenge, if there were justice of the peace, selectmen or constable in Illinois. Feeling, however, that a new pack might be procured rather more easily than a new scalp, he took counsel in his rage, and prudently remained in his lurking-place, breathing softly and cautiously, and refraining from the least movenient that might indicate to the savages the proximity of a living being. The plunderers, having thoroughly rummaged Sauls wares, and decorated their persons with the spoils in such fashion that each resembled a bale of that curious fabric which country wives are wont to term patch-work, betook them- elves at last to the canteen, which they discussed with such fervor of devotion, that it made but two circuits and was empty. The taste of the firc-scetcr ap- peared to suit their palates marveliously, for they recomnienced their search more furiously than ever, and to the crowning of their trespasses and Sauls mortifica- tion, succeeded in dragging from the bottom of the pack his choicest crypt of all, being nothing less than several bottles of what Saul had intended to produce in the West as prime and genuine Irish smoke,although, reader, I may as well mention between ourselves, that Saul confessed to me that it was of the best Connecticut manufacture. However that might have been, Indians are no great critics, and our red friends sat down to this newly discovered treasure with the same right good will which you will sometimes see in an experienced sipper of the grfpe, when the host, after the third course, produces from some secret nook, a cobwebbed bottle, whose age may be guessed from its mellow richness and oily raciness, and from the air of holy and calm satisfaction with which the con- noissieur allows it to meander between his lips. This new reinforcement soon put the heathens hors du combat every soul of them, and before they had drained the last bottle, they lay stretched upon the grass inanimate and helpless as so many gorged Anacondas. Saul, seeing them thus disposed of began to recollect his presence of mind, and to bethink himself of escaping such dangerous vicinity. The brook, near which he stood, emptied into the river not fifty yards distant, and giving one longing look at his pack, he stole softly along the bottom of the ravine until he came to the shore. A high bank was between him and his enemies, and while it concealed them from sight, he was so near that he could hear their drunken snoring and could see their canoe, moored in the ridge, not thirty paces off. A sudden thought struck him. Reconnoitering cautiously the situation of the drunken revellers, and satisfying himself that they were incapable of annoyance, he silently crept towards the canoe, reached and crawled into it, and laying him- self along its bottom, cutthe slight fastenin,, by which it was moored; and slowly drifted from the shore until his frail bark feeling the impulse of the current, be launched off in the full tide of succe sful experiment, and began to descend 0 190 Saul Knappor tke Life of a Yankee. the stream with a rapidity that soon carried him out of eye, ear, and rifle shot of its late proprietors. As soon as by the aid of his paddles, Saul had placed himself beyond fear of pursuit, he had leisure to examine his bargain and give vent to his feelings. Blast the varmint was his pious ejaculation, this ere rotten craft have I got for as good a lot of plunder as a man might want to look atthe bloody thievin critters ! And thus in good set Yankee terms he vented his spleen. 0 what a capital invention for the vile, is that same faculty of cursing. There are your primitive savages, who are ignorant how to damn their foesthey kill them. Retention of ill.humor, always increases it, as the pent fire of a volcano bursts out more intensely. You will always find good-natured people given ta cursing and swearing; and when a man cannot vent his anger thus, beware of him! it must find a passage somewhere. But this is a digression. Saul having thus disburthened his mind, his appetite found an opportunity of reminding him that he had not finished his dinner I wonder, thought he, if the reptiles keep any stores ; and he commenced, what his harassed mind had not hitherto allowed his thinking ofan examination into the value of his forced bargain. The canoe was of the largest size, and upon lifting up the grass-covering, Saul found that he had on board a lading of valuable furs, the produce apparently of some months hunting, a good rifle, two silver watches and a deer-skin purse, probably the spoil of some unfortunate trader, for it was full of dollars; and, moreover, what was most immediately available to his present necessities, some dried veni- son and hoe-cake. Well, I swon! said Saul, as he recommenced his dinner, t aint such a mortal poor trade ater all. In the course of time he arrived with his cargo at New-Orleans; and verily the dealers in furs soon found that they had a customer of a different calibre from the unsospicious countrymen who had thitherto monopolized the market. T want, as Saul said, the first offer that did for himt want a jack-knife for a beaver-skin that trip. Buyers began to suspect that furs were growing scarce in the wildernessa report became current that the beavers were receding to the rocky mountainsskins rose in the market. Saul counted his profits and felt grateful to the Saukies. He did not, however, sojourn long at New-Orleans. There were too many of us there aready, said he, and having made a suc- cessful hit, he had (a discretion which is seldom manifested by those who have ventured in the pool of commercial speculation) the wit to draw his stakes and forbear tempting fortune. He forsook a life of such uncertainty, and invested part of his gains in a tract of land in Ohio, which was offered him dog-cheap, by a brother Yankee who had been ruined in attempting to establish a newspaper and build a town somewhere on the outskirts of Louisiana. He applied to Saul with a moving tale of disasters, and so worked on our heros tender part, that in consideration of the vendors misfortunes, and being, as he said, from his own state, he forbore taking advantage of his poverty, and paid him nearly one- fourth the considered value of the land. Being satisfied that his title was unquestionable, Saul set off for his new land, with a head teemin with anticipations of improvements, manufactories and the Lord knows what Kot. On reaching the desired spot, he found that he had reck- oned without his host, and that there were other Philistines in the West, besides Saukies. Alas! that hawks should pike out hawks cen. his eastern friend had been too many for himhis land, of a truth, was as pretty a spot of earth as he could have wished, and the deed for it the only one on record worth a straw hut it was already furnished with tenants whom the former proprietor had omit- ted to make mention of, who occupied the landnot by any right or title pre- cisely defined, as 1 think, in Coke or Blackstonebut under that prescriptive tenure which we quaintly term squatting. Every one knows what a squatter is- a swarthy, lank, bareboned character, measuring some seven feet in height, who dresses in buck-skin, lives upon bears meat, and never walks abroad without his rifle; who, with his wife, who is to an ordinary woman Glundalclitclm to a Lilli- putian boarding-school miss, and his six sons, any one of them fit to stand for double bounty in the tallest grenadier guards of Europe,comes from the Lord knows where, and sits him down in the first spot that suits his fancy, clears away the timber and erects Isis log-house with as much independent sang-froid as if a conveyance of the land had been made to him, signed, sealed, and delivered, according to law. Saul found to his dismay th t with such Bejouians meunr and tuurn were not regarded as orthodox argument, and that his plans of improvement looked ,~,auI Knappor the Life of a Yankee. 191 ry like being superseded by theirs, in the outset. Lie did, for instance, just hint to Neger Pogue that there was such a matter as ejectment, and Neger offered kindly to gouge him for the information. And Jehu Barlow, in reply to a notice to quit, swore by the hooky that he would welcome with a bullet, the first deputy- sheriff that showed his nose in point blank distance of his cabin, which Saul, a his deposition on the subject set forth, verily believed be would have done. This state of things, as may readily be supposed, was sufficiently disheartening to a new settler, and one, too, of Sauls pacific disposition. Had he been within kenning of any sponsible courtbut here among forests and prairies, warrants and constables were as little appreciated and cared for, as steam-boats or sea- serpents. Sauls heart was, in truth, faint within him at bis prospects, and he was sadly weighed down with the consciousness that be had been for once in his life, no snacks, and that his Saukie speculation was likely to turn out (to use his own words once more) rather slim on the average. Dame Fortune, however, who, good soul, so often railed at as true woman in caprice, is, in truth, sometimes, tine woman in constancy, once more stood the friend of her proteg To Cincinnati, in those days, came Pict Von Blunderbut- ton, a German settler, in search of an eligible location for his varm, and blumen gartenthe very man for Saul. To him, indeed, Saul described the fertility, the advantageous situation, the improved conditionsingular, he omit- ted all mention of the improzees; in fact, as he said, t want significant to make mention on em, as they had nt rightly any claim to the landand after the usual haggling, he managed to sell Pict a fund of experience, and his Ohio farm at about two per cent. profit. This restored the equilibrium of his equanimity; and, being by this time satisfied that there was no life like a civilized one, he resolved never more to trust himself out of hearing of meeting-bell or reach of court-house writ, and accordingly opened a country store, in a small way, on the borders of the great state of New-York. A country store like Sauls, is, as we Yankees know, nothing more than a pedlars pack on a large scale, and our hero for a season vended all things from Jews-harps to hand-saws, from lace-veils to patent-ploughs, to his abundant emolument, and grew rapidly rich. Indeed, so rapidly, that the ill-natured of hi neighbors scrupled not to hint that he was stockholder in more than one nutmeg factory, and that he was largely concerned in the exportation of pumkin-seeds; but these were vague reports, based on nothing more trust-worthy than village gossip. Sauls next-door neighbor was one of those razeed seventy-fours, yclept the great man of a country town. Squire Cobb filled the office of post-master, mail-contractor, inn-keeper, justice of the peace, and colonel of the militia, it was said with as much ease as he filled his arm-chair; and as no one saw him in it without thinking it wonderful how he wedged into it, it may be inferred that he was no common man. The squire, as to externals, had the body and legs of a bull-dog, a face like an exploded bomb, a voice like a prize-bulls, and the address of a turkey-cock. Crccsns was rich, and so was thought the squire. The Pythia spoke oracles, and so did the squire, (at least in his own bar- room.) Seated on his throne, with a glass of brandy and water, like a prime minister, at his elbow, like an overgrown figure of Cato, the censor, he decided all debates with a nod, sanctioned all newly broached opinions with a grunt, and gave currency to every good joke with a wink. The squire was, in short, a great man of power, and his influence extended in all directions save one. He had a young and handsome wife, and moreover, for his sins, as report said, a gray mare in his stable. Be that as it might, Mrs. Cobb was a buxom, good-looking woman, who would by no means plead guilty to more than twenty- five; and as our Saul, who found the Squires parlor a snug corner fur a single nianhad learned somewhat of the courtiers art in his promiscuous intercourse with mankind, he rightly paid his court to the influential member, and secured his seat in the house. Home-keeping youths have ever homely wits. Saul had traveled, and in the thrice-weekly tea-festivals at Squire Cobbs, he made the most of his adventures, to the marvel and amusement of Mrs. Cobb, and Mrs. Cobbs female friends. Having no good-natured friend at his elbow to calculate possibilities and remind him of inconsistencies, lie grew, in the eyes of Mrs. Quarle, the attorneys wife, Mrs. Quinine and Mrs. McPestle, the ladies of the village doctor and apothecary, into a very Sir John Harringtona Sinbada sort of Vasco de Gama; and, as men of true tact, while they dazzle, still strive to amuse, Saul by his recondite and well-turned sentiments on pattern ginghams and the faults of his fair friends I 9~2 Domestic .lJlanners of the French, rivals, fairly wound himself into the hearts of these leaders of the village tor. He made so secure a lodgment in the tender heart of Mrs. Cobb, that when old Squire Cobb, one fine summer day, took advantage of a fit of apoplexy to release himself of all wordly troubles, his disconsolate widow could find nobodys con- dolements so alleviating as those which she received from the sympathy of our hero. Mrs. Cobb was now sole inheritrix of the squires property. As to the post- office and the mail-contract, they, of course, ~vent to the administration editor the commission in the militia to his major, the village tailorand the justice-ship of the peace, to arm old lady who could influence three votes. Having given one specimen of Sauls peculiar style of courtship, I shall pass over that happy period as it was passed between him and the gay widow. Probably it was more matter- of-factical, too, than our fair readers might relish; for, in six months after the squires unpremeditated exit, in defiance of Mrs. Grundys wonderment and kindly meant insinuations, Mrs. Cobb became Mrs. Knapp, and promoted Saul to the vacant throne of her former lord, which post, for all I have heard to the con- trary, he holds yet to the full satisfaction of his consort. Sauls fortune might now be considered made. Invested with all conjugal privileges; rich in a wife, ready cash, and land without squatters, no wonder if he became ambitious. In a very few months from his marriage, his store and stock in trade were disposed of; his movables stowed into a baggage-wagon, and him- self and his better-half in a dearborn, and he had once again shifted ground in search of a more enlarged sphere. He is now settled, the last that I have heard of him, in the interior of the state, high in public estimation, and well to pass with the mooney-getting community,with whom wealth is character. Hotel-keeper, member of assembly, and share-holder in a rail-road company, his thoughts are now of his country and himself. He neglects not the golden opinions of all classes of men. While his sons are educated to adorn their anticipated preferments, and his daughters considered the best matches in the county, Time has dealt leniently with him and Mrs. Cobb; and, while he looks with pride on the fruit of his various labors, his reminiscences of the Green Mountains, grow, probably, every day more indistinct. Scotchmen and Yankees, rarely, it is said, return to the spot of their nativity fter emigratin, and Saul, when talking with his guests, and telling them, as lie lways does, his eventful history, ever concludes by dubitating whether he ever shall get back to Varmount. DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE FRENCH.* THE first step in the acquisition of knowledge, is to be sensible of our own ignorance; and, by a parity of reasoning, the surest way of becoming polite is to find out what awkward boobies we are. Good breeding, says the Manuel de Ia Bonne Compagnie, is a happy mixture of moral virtue and grace; it is produced by a knowledge of ourselves, and a respect for the rights of others; it is founded upon a consciousness that selfish feelings must be sacrificed to the duties of society ; & c. It is thus the arbiter elega ntiaruin of the saloons of Paris, dives into the philosophy of the matter, before instructing us how to crook an elbow, or scribble a card. The volume we refer to, is not like the Farmers Almanack, calculated for the meridian of Boston, & c. but, like a preachers text, it may serve as a point to start from, in pursuit of our object, as well as furnish us with some amus- 1n~ specimens of that art in which your Frenchman will bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne. If, in walking the street, you should find it necessary to inquire the way, never accost a person without a polite bow, and the title of Monsieur or Madam, Manuel de h Boiiie (2ompa~uie oii Guide de is Politesse ci do h Penstance, & c. Paris, 1832.

Domestic Manners of the French Original Papers 192-194

I 9~2 Domestic .lJlanners of the French, rivals, fairly wound himself into the hearts of these leaders of the village tor. He made so secure a lodgment in the tender heart of Mrs. Cobb, that when old Squire Cobb, one fine summer day, took advantage of a fit of apoplexy to release himself of all wordly troubles, his disconsolate widow could find nobodys con- dolements so alleviating as those which she received from the sympathy of our hero. Mrs. Cobb was now sole inheritrix of the squires property. As to the post- office and the mail-contract, they, of course, ~vent to the administration editor the commission in the militia to his major, the village tailorand the justice-ship of the peace, to arm old lady who could influence three votes. Having given one specimen of Sauls peculiar style of courtship, I shall pass over that happy period as it was passed between him and the gay widow. Probably it was more matter- of-factical, too, than our fair readers might relish; for, in six months after the squires unpremeditated exit, in defiance of Mrs. Grundys wonderment and kindly meant insinuations, Mrs. Cobb became Mrs. Knapp, and promoted Saul to the vacant throne of her former lord, which post, for all I have heard to the con- trary, he holds yet to the full satisfaction of his consort. Sauls fortune might now be considered made. Invested with all conjugal privileges; rich in a wife, ready cash, and land without squatters, no wonder if he became ambitious. In a very few months from his marriage, his store and stock in trade were disposed of; his movables stowed into a baggage-wagon, and him- self and his better-half in a dearborn, and he had once again shifted ground in search of a more enlarged sphere. He is now settled, the last that I have heard of him, in the interior of the state, high in public estimation, and well to pass with the mooney-getting community,with whom wealth is character. Hotel-keeper, member of assembly, and share-holder in a rail-road company, his thoughts are now of his country and himself. He neglects not the golden opinions of all classes of men. While his sons are educated to adorn their anticipated preferments, and his daughters considered the best matches in the county, Time has dealt leniently with him and Mrs. Cobb; and, while he looks with pride on the fruit of his various labors, his reminiscences of the Green Mountains, grow, probably, every day more indistinct. Scotchmen and Yankees, rarely, it is said, return to the spot of their nativity fter emigratin, and Saul, when talking with his guests, and telling them, as lie lways does, his eventful history, ever concludes by dubitating whether he ever shall get back to Varmount. DOMESTIC MANNERS OF THE FRENCH.* THE first step in the acquisition of knowledge, is to be sensible of our own ignorance; and, by a parity of reasoning, the surest way of becoming polite is to find out what awkward boobies we are. Good breeding, says the Manuel de Ia Bonne Compagnie, is a happy mixture of moral virtue and grace; it is produced by a knowledge of ourselves, and a respect for the rights of others; it is founded upon a consciousness that selfish feelings must be sacrificed to the duties of society ; & c. It is thus the arbiter elega ntiaruin of the saloons of Paris, dives into the philosophy of the matter, before instructing us how to crook an elbow, or scribble a card. The volume we refer to, is not like the Farmers Almanack, calculated for the meridian of Boston, & c. but, like a preachers text, it may serve as a point to start from, in pursuit of our object, as well as furnish us with some amus- 1n~ specimens of that art in which your Frenchman will bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne. If, in walking the street, you should find it necessary to inquire the way, never accost a person without a polite bow, and the title of Monsieur or Madam, Manuel de h Boiiie (2ompa~uie oii Guide de is Politesse ci do h Penstance, & c. Paris, 1832. Domestic Manners of the French. 193 even though the individual in question, should he a scurvy little errand boy, or an old granny that sells apples; as .lI12i~nsieur or Madame telle rue, s ii ~ous plait. If a lady, or a person of any distinction make such an inquiry of you, be sure to take off your hat in replying. It is to he hoped, for the comfort of the Parisians, that this latter rule may be somewhat relaxed, when the rain or snow is particularly heavy, or the thermometer down to zero, or the North-west wind whetted up to a certain degree of sharpness. We have strong appre- hensions that the rigorous application of this rule in the climate, under which we suffer, would make an endemic disease of the catarrh. The art of talking is a very important matter; but the art of listening, is hardly less so. If a dull fellow tells a sleepy story, he must b.. heard, and heard, too, with attention. Should he attempt to be witty, laugh, though the joke be ever so dull. Should he essay the pathetic, throw yourself into a melti g mood, and he as lachrymose as the case demands, thou~,h it cost you an effort to suppress a broad cachination. Should he run away from his subject, and spin a long yarn of digression, do not attempt to bring him back~ aiv he will hang himself. b e him rope enough, and This advice is excellent; for we take it for granted, that a long- winded proser, among the French, having once officiated as his own Jack Ketch in the matter of longeurs, is dead thenceforth and forever to all matters of sto. y-telling. We wish we could say as much of the affairs in a certain legislative assembly, not to be mentioned, where gentlemen hang themselves with long ropes of prating, a hundred times over. Sometimes a story-teller makes a free use of that figure of speech, which the gods call stretching the truth, hut which plain-spoken mortals are accustomed to designate by a much shorter name. It is not polite in such a case, to say, That s a bouncer. The most which you can decently allow yourself to utter, should he to this effect. That is astonishing, or, Really, Sir, if I were not folly satisfied of your veracity, or if any other person had told me that, I should hardly have believed it. This reply, with some expression of surprise in your countenance, will suffice to get you out of the scrape. No doubt these directions have been found vastly serviceable among people who feel scrupulous about spoiling a good story in the mouth of the narrator, and wish, at the same time, to save their credit by displaying a decent skepticism when the deponent brings into court his fiery dragons, el dorados and sea-serpents. As to flinging a flat dementi in his teeth, that is what no true-blooded Frenchman can allow himself to think of; yet, what reasonable man would show himself such a being, as to swallow an over-dose of the marvelous? How admirably does the counsel just quoted, enable us to steer safely between the horns of this dilemma! It carries the giants, as uncle Toby says, completely out of harms way.~~ Thusif I were not fully satisfied of the veracity of certain great men among us, I should hardly believe they understood how to direct the affairs of the nation. If any other persons but themselves had told me of it, I should doubt their having done themselves immortal honor. If I were not quite assured of the injustice of such an impu- tation, I should be disposed to say to many a notable head-piece, Is not your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity ? In telling a story, have an eye to certain bits of phraseology, which are apt to slip into the course of a narration, as Believe me, Sir Thats a fact In a VOL. iii. 25 194 Common Schools. wordand Without boastingShun these phrases, as you would a mad dog; they signify just the reverse of their literal expression. A great lie is sure to be ac- companied with Believe me, and that s a fact. When your narrator strikes upon In a word, depend upon it, instead of coming to an end, he is only coming to a beginning; and without boasting is sure to preface some braggadocio rigmarole. How admirably the creature has hit off those ornaments of this blessed country, the speech-makers, in this little paragraph. Had they sat for their portraits, the likeness could not have been better. Let but the orator get upon his legs with illir. Chairman, or Mir. Speaker, I have but a few words to say, put on patience; the unpity- ing proser has nailed you for an hour, if not two. One word more always marks the middle of a discourse. Should he begin with Sir, I had not a thought of speaking this evening, but an idea has just struck me, look out the next morning for that speech in the daily papers, occupying some three columns brevier, if, indeed, the case be not made plainer, by the gentleman halting and stumbling among his well-turned periods, and finally pulling from his pocket, some quires of eloquent foolscap. But perhaps your worthy friend treats you to a tale which you have heard twenty times before; in such a conjuncture, your case is deplorable; for in spite of this, he must be heard to the end; and what is worse, care must be taken not to let him know he is boring you with an old story. There is but one way; listen to it; laugh at it; praise it; wonder at it. If he blunder in telling the story, be careful not to utter a word by way of setting him right, for that would blow the whole mystery, of course. Should he hesitate, swear to him that you know nothing of the matter. Nayif you happened to tell him the story your- self~ but yesterday, you must sham the ignorant; and if this should come to light, vow and protest, that you hear it a second time with great pleasure. True tenderness, and christian-like forbearance! We shall hold these injunctions in special remembrance the next time we are treated to a Fourth-of-July oration, or a review article on the authorship of Junius. COMMON SCHOOLS. Discipline at length, Oecloolced and unemployed, fell sick and died. Then study languished, emulation slept, And virtue fled. COWPER. WE have a proverb, that Necessity is the mother of inventiona saying, which seems to imply, that invention is one of the last powers which man will use, and nothing but dire necessity will call it into action. There is too much truth in the insinuation. Men are nearly all of them copyists; and tread the common road, without inquiring whether there is a nearer direction or a smoother course. Except in the case of a few chosen geniusesto be thrown on circumstances in which we should be forced to devise for ourselvesis exceedingly per- plexing and painful. We may see the truth of this illustrated in the trifling example of dress. If our tailors and milliners were forced, every season, to contrive the fashions which we wear, we should see them nearly as much baffled as a third rate poet would be to write a sonnet without sylphs, or dewy walks, or moonlight shades, or birds

Common Schools Original Papers 194-207

194 Common Schools. wordand Without boastingShun these phrases, as you would a mad dog; they signify just the reverse of their literal expression. A great lie is sure to be ac- companied with Believe me, and that s a fact. When your narrator strikes upon In a word, depend upon it, instead of coming to an end, he is only coming to a beginning; and without boasting is sure to preface some braggadocio rigmarole. How admirably the creature has hit off those ornaments of this blessed country, the speech-makers, in this little paragraph. Had they sat for their portraits, the likeness could not have been better. Let but the orator get upon his legs with illir. Chairman, or Mir. Speaker, I have but a few words to say, put on patience; the unpity- ing proser has nailed you for an hour, if not two. One word more always marks the middle of a discourse. Should he begin with Sir, I had not a thought of speaking this evening, but an idea has just struck me, look out the next morning for that speech in the daily papers, occupying some three columns brevier, if, indeed, the case be not made plainer, by the gentleman halting and stumbling among his well-turned periods, and finally pulling from his pocket, some quires of eloquent foolscap. But perhaps your worthy friend treats you to a tale which you have heard twenty times before; in such a conjuncture, your case is deplorable; for in spite of this, he must be heard to the end; and what is worse, care must be taken not to let him know he is boring you with an old story. There is but one way; listen to it; laugh at it; praise it; wonder at it. If he blunder in telling the story, be careful not to utter a word by way of setting him right, for that would blow the whole mystery, of course. Should he hesitate, swear to him that you know nothing of the matter. Nayif you happened to tell him the story your- self~ but yesterday, you must sham the ignorant; and if this should come to light, vow and protest, that you hear it a second time with great pleasure. True tenderness, and christian-like forbearance! We shall hold these injunctions in special remembrance the next time we are treated to a Fourth-of-July oration, or a review article on the authorship of Junius. COMMON SCHOOLS. Discipline at length, Oecloolced and unemployed, fell sick and died. Then study languished, emulation slept, And virtue fled. COWPER. WE have a proverb, that Necessity is the mother of inventiona saying, which seems to imply, that invention is one of the last powers which man will use, and nothing but dire necessity will call it into action. There is too much truth in the insinuation. Men are nearly all of them copyists; and tread the common road, without inquiring whether there is a nearer direction or a smoother course. Except in the case of a few chosen geniusesto be thrown on circumstances in which we should be forced to devise for ourselvesis exceedingly per- plexing and painful. We may see the truth of this illustrated in the trifling example of dress. If our tailors and milliners were forced, every season, to contrive the fashions which we wear, we should see them nearly as much baffled as a third rate poet would be to write a sonnet without sylphs, or dewy walks, or moonlight shades, or birds Common Schools. 1~5 warbling in the groves. So rare is originality, that the proverb is hardly strong enough in its expression; Necessity is not always the mother of invention. When we are thrown on new paths we often try to walk by old rules; and hence, even the suggestions of Providence and the lessons of Nature are often spread before us only to show what slow scholars we can be in the most profitable school. Our own country has afforded many mortifying illustrations of the truth of these remarks. The peculiarity of our condition hasbeen, that man, taken off from the old foundations of social life, has here been put upon his own exertions; and in a new country every thing was to be shaped anew. When our fathers crossed the Atlantic they left the sceptres and ribbons of noble blood behind them; and they had to establish a chief magistrate ~vithout a king; a legislative assem- bly without hereditary lords. They broke away from all prescriptions; and had to raise up the institutions of society with reference only to the best interests of its members. All the impediments of ages they might bury, if they chose, in the waves of the ocean ; and the voice of authority, so sacred in Europe, would be lost in the distant roar of the waters they had crossed. The first fathers of New-England, notwith- standing the charge of bigotry, which has been heaped upon them by bigots of an opposite creed, were men of a large reach of mind; they had compared the future and the past; and they had modeled in their minds, no doubt, a form of policy, which they believed would exalt the dignity of man. They were great men, equal to the great station they were called to fill. Allowing all this, I must still be permitted to advance an opinion, not the most flattering to our national pridethat the bane of our country has been too deep a reverence for certain forms of social life which have been handed over to us from the old world. We have not, with a quick eye, caught the peculiarities of our situa- tion. We have not suffered our manners to spring up from our soil, nor made our souls, like our lakes, mirrors to reflect our own scenery. Americans in our pride and our prejudices, we have not been suffi- ciently American in our thoughts and conceptions. We have too often been doing in the arts of peace, what Braddock did, in war, when he disregarded the counsels of Washington. We have not ma- no~uvred according to our ground; and have thus lost the benefits, or greatly impaired them, of the old world and the new. 1 am aware that this remark may be met with many powerful argu- ments by one disposed to take the opposite side. He will contest its justice, and say that I betray the honor of our country; he will point me to our manufactories and steam-boats, and ask, If these present no monuments of American invention, suited to American wants? He will pronounce the names of Rittenhouse and Franklin; and, in more recent times, of Whitney and Perkins; and call on me loudly to retract an assertion which is a slander on our land. I own, indeed, that there are splendid exceptions to the truth of my remarks; and so there are exceptions to the most exact remarks you can make on na- tions and people. We always, when we lay down moral propositions, strike a balance amidst thousands of items on both sides of the book. The Dutch are thoughtful and gravebut was there never a merry Hollander? The French are gaybut does not Paris itself contain some musing and mournful minds? All general truths admit of ex~ 1% Common Schook ceptions; and though it may be true that our countrymen have done much to accommodate their manners to the condition to which Provi- dence has called them, yet this does not prove that our lot would not have been better, if we had done more. The bearing of my remark mi~,ht be illustrated by many examples. The war of the revolution was carried on with the highest patriotism and with great ability; but I believe it is very generally conceded now, that our fathers did not meet the British with all the advantages of their peculiar situation. There was some lack of invention in their mode of war. They were too solicitous to form a regular army, when there were no posts to defend, (for the British took all the great towns,) and they introduced too much of the tactics, which had grown up in different scenes, and were neither accommodated to our troops nor our geography. Lexington and Bunker Hill had given them hints where their great strength lay; and they should have acted as David did, when he put off the royal armor, and chose to approach the giant with his sling and five smooth stones from the brook. In a word, (not to be arrogant, since our very wisdom comes from previous mistakes,) may we not say, without departing from the reverence we owe to these great patriots, that they should have left the country open to their foes; have permitted them to scatter; should have cut off the parties and worn them out in a desultory warfare, since they were sure to lose the battle when inexperience met discipline and host was opposed to host? It may not be proper for me to make the remark; but I can- not help harboring the suspicion, that the whole of our judiciary system is an illustration of my first position. It is not American; it grew up in Saxon agesand unless it has a vast fund of latent wisdom, it participates largely in the darkness of a Saxon night. It is impossible to read a modern indictment without laughing. If the jury knew the case exactly, before the trial, I am sure they must be perplexed after the reading of such a paper. So much for transplanting English Jaw to republican ground. If, according to the theory of our government, every man is a law-makerthen it is important to make the whole science as intelligible as possible, that every man may understand his duty. The same truth is illustrated in our political history. We forgot that we were a peculiar people and were not sufficiently peculiar in our viexvs. I have a great respect for the old Federalists. I believe that their party contained some of the best men our country ever pro- duced. I speak freely of the party, for I speak over its tomb. It has long since been dead. But it is impossible not to see that they lost their influence and missed of their aim, by not adapting their language, and often their measures, to their peculiar condition. They embarked too much with the English Aristocrats; they often used language more fitted for the longitude of London than that of Philadelphia; and they fell, because they were not content to debate American questions with American views. There vas single great man who did them more harm, than 11 their collected wisdom could repair. It was Edmund Burke. He opposed the French Revolutionand they op- posed it; and true enough, it was a volcano, shaking the earth and filling all the air with its inflammatory cinders. But Burke opposed it on English principles; C nd they should have opposed it on American principles. After the publication of his books, the productions of all Common Schools. 197 our federalists became tinged with Aristocracy; they were attracted out of their regular orbit by this splendid comet that crossed their path; and they laid themselves open, needlessly and extravagantly, to the shafts of their political opponentsas if they were defending all the ancient incumbrances for which the war of the revolution was fought to free us. Even our literature has been hampered by the same imitating spirit. I have seen American novels and American essays, which were as remote from our manners as if they had been translated from the Persian tales. Jn a word, we are a young nation, and we have often bowed with too much veneration to the idols of the east. We have worshiped the rising sun when we ought to have turned our eyes to the splendor with which he fills our western sky. Because the eastern minds are models in some departments, we have been too prone to consider them as models in alland their bright examples have sometimes led us to a rash imitation, but more frequently, per- haps, to a rash despair. In no one thing has this crippled spirit of imitation more prevailed, or done more harm, than in the construction of our seminaries of learning. We are a peculiar people; our country is peculiarly sit- uated, and all our citizens have peculiar duties to perform. We need, therefore, a peculiar education. Our fathers have been praised for their diligence in establishing schools and colleges when they first came to New-England. It is a praise, their real claim to which, we ought not to diminish. Yet it is impossible not to see that their schools and colleges were modeled too much on old principles. In the college at Cambridge, all the forms of the old logical disputes were kept up, until within the memory of a man whom I remember. They were conducted in Latinthe old syllogistic forms were preservedthe subjects were as remote as possible from common life; and although Mather says, they did not, as at Oxford, study Aristotle on their knees; yet his philosophy, modified as it was in the middle ages, was held in too much veneration. Their higher schools had a reference solely to the university. Every town containing one hundred families was obliged to keep a grammar school, where Latin and Greek were taught; and nothing more. The common schools, I apprehend, were in a very low state. Looking over the old records, we find such poor writing and spelling handed down to us by the town clerks of former days, that we have no great reason to boast of the learning of our fathers. Arithmetic was taught very imperfectly; and grammar and geography scarcely thought of. There were undoubtedly very learned men in those days; hut there was not that diffusion of learning which is necessary to elevate the general mass of the people to comprehend their own rights. If it were not invidious, I might point out an in- stance where the same spirit of imitation has impaired the usefulness of our schools at the present day. In the large towns of England, there are numbers of children growing up in ignorance, owing to the poverty of their parents; and it is extremely desirable to establish some cheap system of instruction. In these circumstances, th eLan- easterian plan certainly has its value. It is an abridgement of labor which makes some instruction possible where none existed before. But lo! with the usual felicity of servile copyists, we have introduced it into our country; and have set aside the old method of spontaneous 198 Common Sckool~. effort and individual exertion, to throw our children into a sort of in- tellectual hopper, where they must be ground in a mill. All self-exer- tion prevented; all responsibility lost; every generous feeling crushed; and the whole body taught to march on like a platoon of soldiers, as if they were moved by one spring and were parts of a single machine. The sole merit of this plan is, that it saves money. It is certainly hetter to see children in such a school than pitching coppers about the streets ; but, with this slender merit, it is certainly worse than the worst plan of instruction that was ever before devised With the same cement ever sure to bind, They bring to one dead level every mind. I can easily imagine that such a school may make excellent sailorsand soldiers; for they are expected to be automatons. But for republicans, for freemen, for self-controlling, and elevated masters of their own destinyit is not the place. We certainly can afford something het- ter; for money spent in building up the public intellect, is not a sacri- fice to be set down to a mans generosityit is not a triumph of public spirit over avarice; but it is an action of the truest economyit is an expense for which a man receives a large reversion; it is a fee paid to intelligence and virtue, those great moral sentinels, whose vigilance keeps the public heart sound) and the rich mans coffers safe. One of the causes which ha~ tended to detract from our public schools the attention and encouragement which they ought to receive is the very fact, that the system is old. This is an age of innovation and novelty; and we are all of us more or less fascinated by their charms. Only let a new plan start up, and we have a copious supply of strolling gentlemen and strolling ladies, (who want nothing but rags to resemble other strollers,) who are very ready to espouse it. They enter into it with all the ardor which commonly accompanies a short- lived passion. One heads the subscription paper; another carries it about; a third pleads for it; and all find in it a transient breeze which serves to break the waters of a stagnant life. In the mean time it is hardly inquired, whether there are not other calls of benevolence more important; which can be pushed forward with less expense, because they are already in operation; and which are in danger of sinking, be- cause they are not addressed to the most morbid passion of the human heart. I am not speaking against plans of real utility because they are new. No doubt we have much to learn; let their utility be shown, and they deserve our cordial support. But let us not, in the rage of inno- vation, desert all that is solid and substantial in past experience. It is always a presumption in favor of a plan that it has been tried. The stars of the firmament are not the less bright because they have twinkled in the heavens since the dawn of creation; and our minds should not he distracted nor our attention diverted from the objects which have hitherto been our happiness and our glory. We are too apt to consider our schools as a good secured; we have them; and they will go on well without our attention. This is a mistake. There isnot a human institution that can bare to be neglected. There is always a tendency to degenerate; our schools need perpetual reviving. If you wish to he beneficent from the purest principles; if you would do good with no other reward than the secret consciousness of having done itthen you must attend to these old institutions. If this is not done, nothing Common Schools. 199 will be perpetual. The pleasure of forming a new design is the hope that it will be permanent; but if we are always running after novel- ties, it is a law of our actions, these very novelties will ceaseand we sanction by our example a rule which overthrows what we have done. To make a people anxious for any improvement, there must he be- fore the mind a vivid conception of something better. Savages will never desert their huts and caves until you can teach them to appre- ciate the value of well-built houses and comfortable homes. To form the bright idea of something better than what we now enjoy, and the possibility of attaining itis the first step towards any improvement. Now I am afraid that there generally prevails a low idea of the stand- ard of excellence in schools: the old man feels jealous lest his son should know more than himself; and hence the same qialifications in schoolmasters and the same mode of teaching, satisfies from generation to generation. Not that I would encourage rash innovations. These have in- jured our schools full as much as any prejudices against improve- ment. In modern times, too much has been aimed at in some of our district schools. They are often kept but a few months in the year; and to multiply the studies for so short a time as is allowed to pursue them, is certainly to forget the objects for which such schools are established. If you fill a common school with a great many splendid branchesrecommended by a sounding namethe consequence will be, that in the general ambition to rise, the more necessary branches will be neglected. Some will study navigation, who hardly know the multiplication table; and others attempt grammar and composition, who have not yet learned to read. I have often noticed this evil in common schools. There is a general passion to rise to the higher branches. It is scarcely possible to make them step up to knowledge by the necessary grades. Children, like men, are governed by names; and the reputation of science is more prized than the thing itself. We should graduate the studies according to the time of the scholars, and the opportunities allowed to gain them. There is another error which has hurt our schools: the flood of books which has been poured upon us, many of them compiled with the weakest judgement, present- ing a distracting variety, and exposing parents to a needless expense. Some of these books seem to be designed to supersede all effort on the part of the scholar. They are opiates for the mind. I find some books, with every page sprinkled over with lines and circumfiexes to teach the reader to pronounce without the aid of memory. All these misera- ble crutches only serve to make those lame who were riot so before. Indeed, I should not hesitate say, that the path to knowledge may be made too easythe mind overpropt, omits all exertions of her own; for to conquer difficulties increases her strength. There has been another innovation which argues a depraved taste. It is well known with what clearness and simplicity the old writers of the English lan- guage express themselves. Their thoughts shine through their ex- pressions; and language was not then a glittering veil throWn over darkened sentiments; but it was a polished glass, which revealed and beautified the conceptions of the author in the readers view. This is true of such men as Addison, Swift, Pope, Goldsmith, Paley. It is partly true of Shakspeare, Milton, Burke; whose diction, if it is some- 200 Common Schools. times tinged with mysticism and fancy, is yet, on the whole, never found to cloud their thoughts. But all this, by the modern writers, is completely reversed. They seem to write like men sated with sim- plicity, and to readers equally sated with themselves. Hence they labor their expressions; they depart as far from the colloquial as pos- sible. They roll words on words and heap metaphor on metaphor; and as for their poetry, it is not even written to be understood. Now, such writers are the last whom I should select to form a school book of; especially it is a subject of peculiar indignation to see them crowd- ing out such accomplished models as Addison and Goldsmith. Yet, we have school books almost entirely compiled from such writersthe glittering fogs of the moral landscape; the riddles and Delphic oracles of the Christian world. Perhaps I am wrong, however, in complaining of their obscurity; for such is their moral character, that our best security from their corrupting our children is, that they are too obscure to be understood. Let us leave them to their beloved darkness; it only serves to conceal their passions and their crimes. I shall now pass to another topic which, I fear, is rather a delicate one. But I hope to speak so as to be understood; and if so, I trust I shall avoid giving offence. The grand object of instruction in this country, is the diffusion of knowledge: it is not to form a privileged class, who are to engross all the refinement and intelligence, and leave the poor to sink into that abject and contented ignorance in which poverty is prone to grovel. Now, in order to make the whole community move onward in this course of improvement, you must aim to bind the interest of all classes of citizens; the rich and the poor, the learned and the unlearned, into one common bundle. Nothing should be done to withdraw the attention of our most enterprising citi- zens from our most common schools. There the rich and the poor should meet together; there their children should jointhe rich man7s son to learn that it is by a rough contest with the rougher members of society, that he is to work his way through life; and the poor mans son to catch some of the embellishments of higher stations and more polished minds. It is this mixture of character that improves our minds, and forms the harmony of this sometimes jarring world. A public school, thus constructed, is a sort of prelude to their subsequent life; it is an epitome of the great republic. It stimulates their powers; it calls forth their virtues; it braces them to meet temptation; and it gives the character a vigor and a consolidation which it can acquire no where else. One such boy, thus educated, is worth more than a thousand moonlight characters, formed in the shade, and fitted never to leave it. Some, to be sure, in some weak parts, may be tainted and seduced; but, after all, the evil, if you will consult experience, is overbalanced by the good. Perhaps you will say, My son in this way will meet bad boys; truebut he must meet bad boys unless you retire to some wilderness. We were certainly made for social life; we must face this world with all its compound characters; and God intended we should beg in when we begin other exercisesin childhood Send your son, therefore, into the world, but faithfully warn him against its allure- ments and vices. Now I would respectfully suggest, whether private schools, by forming an unwise separation, do not break in on this order of Nature and Providence. Whether they do not tend to produce and Common Schools. 201 perpetuate invidious distinctionswhether by withdrawing the atten- tion of the rich and influential fro1 common schools, engrossing the talents of the best teachers, they do not leave them in a worse state? and whether we may not here see the germ of evils which may spread through the whole system of life? I desire to stand corrected if I am wrong; but these are suspicions which have frequently crossed my mind. They are doubts and fears which I should he glad to find re- moved. It is true, it would be hard to compel the rich to send to our common schools in their present state. But if they did send, would they not soon be elevated? This was the original design of our common schools; this is the very soul of republicanism. Franklin and Washington were educated with boys from the poorest families. There is another mistake xvhich it appears to me extensively pre- vails; and that is the exclusive attention which is paid to collegesas if these high institutions ought to he first in the public mind. This is one of those erroneous habits of thinking which we have inherited from the old world. Legislatures and leading men have turned their prin- cipal thoughts on colleges; important institutions, I own, but still hearing no comparison with common schools in the influence they ex- ercise on the country at large. More than h~lf a million has been given by the state to Harvard College alone; an institution to which the rich resort, and much more likely to take care of itself than the humble school of a common town. It seems strange that the fostering care of the legislature should be extended to the strong and withheld from the weak. Would it not he better that these higher professors of learning should be put upon their reputation for their success; and that the more common teachers, who are less likely to have a reputa- tion, should receive some legislative encouragement or support? The present mode seemingly reversee all political rulesit gives bounty to a trade which can go on without such bonntyyes, where it has some- times been positively injurious; and it withdraws it from one which really xvants encourmgernent. Cert inl~ it is the instruction of the lower classes (by lower I mean poorer) to which the le0islature should lend its chief attention. They are most apt to sink into ignorance. It is the D e~ J510 of knowledge which is the soil of ~epublicanism. It h not the marble foe. tam xv ich gushes up in the capitol, surround- ed by its colonades, which is to xv ter the country ; but it is the native brooks and rivulets, adorned by no splendor, winding among rushes and reeds, diffused t~ rough the lan ~x, liLe the veins through th~ body each one of them an object of Uttle v~ lie ud Imost es~oing tten tion ; an yet, in their collective irlicence, ti e ~erj Ijie of the country the source of ~~hi its ferility and beauty. It is not the ~esi a of these reei rUs, however, to express a wish that the eneoura~ement _i ~en to colleges were less; but that the en- coura~e~eent to ciooh were more. fant of quaiifie~.tion in the i ~structers h~ s injured our common schools. The profesKon h~s not r~nked igh enouTh in the public estimation. There is no art or science which is more difficult to att , more abilities are called for, and in supreme excellence in where more diligence required, than the art of buildimig up human minds. It requires the 1~st exertions of the best men. And here let one word be said to remove that foolish impression, that school keeping vov. mu, 6 202 Common Sc/tools. tends to narrow the intellect, that it is a sort of mechanical task from which every high-minded man would shrink away who could find something better. This impression has arisen, partly from some ficti- tious writings in which the schoolmaster is seldom introduced but to be burlesqued; and partly from some examples in real lifeit being certain that school-keeping (but not more than any other pro- fession) will narrow a weak and indolent mind. You all remember Goldsmiths beautiful, but somewhat ludicrous description of the coun- try school-master The village all declared how much he knew; T was certain he could write and cypher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And een the story ran that he could gauge; In arguing too the parson owned his skill, For een tho conquered, he could argue still. But let us not be deceived by fictionlet us look on real life. As- chain and Milton were schoolmasters; so were Goldsmith and John- son. The fiction writers seldom introduced a clergyman without painting a mind narrowed by the profession, a ridiculous and benev- olent being, whom, if we partly respect, we are compelled to laugh at. But when I remember that Owen and Baxter, and Burkley, and But- ler, and Edwards, and Fenelon, were clergymen, I feel not much dis- tressed lest this profession should cramp any genius or should not give scope and activity to the most exalted powers. The truth is, the mind exerts its natural vigor in every profession. It is the prerogative of genius to do well whatever it is called to do. There is scope for it in navigatin~ a vessel, in managing a farm, and certainly in the im- portant art of training up imino~tal minds. Young men, therefore, may dismiss their fears on this score. No employment is more respon- sible; none calls more for the best application of the best powers. It must be confessed, however, that every man of talents is not fit- ted for a schoolmaster. It requires a peculiar tact,a facility of dis- cipline, a facility of communication; and, above all, the art of waking an interest in the mind of the pupil. We find some teachers whose very eye and motion, whose voice and manner awe the whole school into instant silence. They seem to govern without effort, they have no agitation or bustle about them, they touch the machine and it moves on; with the strictest discipline, they make every scholar Jove them, and even when they punish, their most terrible blows fall on the heart. Now the possession of such a man is invaluable. If you find such an one, secure his services; let him not go. Do not lose him for a fe~v paltry pieces of silver. He is a respectable man ; give him a respectable price. Such men are not found every day ; and almost any reward you can give him is cheap, compared with the forced, lazy services of different characters, whom you had better hire to be away. The difference between a good and a bad workman is very great in all professions; but especially so in this. A poor schoolmaster is a very poor thing. The form of our school-houses has had no inconsiderable influence in sinking the character of our schools. Whoever has traveled through our country towns must have noticed certain ambiguous huts, of which he has doubts, whether they wore pens ei~ected for certain Common Schools. 20J grc~edy animals, whom we feed to eat, or whether they are seminaries of learning. They seem to be contrived by certain ingenious archi- tects to be as inconvenient as possible, and certainly Robert Fulton never hit his object better. The seats are narrow, the children crowded, the air close, though the windows are broken; the desks uneasy, the floor ripped up, the plastering falling, the funnel broken, the room smoky, in short, a place for nothing, arid every thing out of its place. I have heard a very respectable man say, that he had known bad habits of body, such as stooping and distortion, contracted in these rooms of torture, fit for the purposes of the inquisition. Even in larger towns there is a miserable parsimony in erecting these edifices. You can see the ghost of a dollar sitting on every lintel and door post. If any where we should consult comfort, it is in these sem- inaries of our children. How can you expect a child to sit for three hours, without moving, on a hard oak board four inches wide? It is perfect torment, and yet in some school-houses this is expected. Be- sides, as squalid poverty injures the morals, so a miserable school- house injures the mind. The best printed books and the best built houses should be reserved for the young. Nor let any one object that it is fanciful to attribute so much to the make of a building. Some of the most important results in politics, have come from causes equally trifling in appearance. It was the size of a house that made two branches in the British legislature; and has handed down to us and to all posterity the important doctrine of a check in legislation; of the concurrence of two bodies being necessary to passing a law. There has been also a great want of attention on the part of parents to the instructers ; and on the part of the instructers to the parents. There should be a close intimacy and a perfect co-opera- tion. I would advise every parent to get acqu~ inted with the school- master; and every schoolmaster to visit the parents of his pupils it would prevent a world of difficulties. It is astonishing what credu- lity there is, even in some strong minds (this is a strong mans weak point) in believing the tales and misrepresentations of their children. A boy is corrected, and goes ho~ e under the deepest excitement, to tell his story. It is sure to have calumny enough; if not a large quantity of positive lies. Parental partiality gets the better of reason, and the instructer is condemned before lie is heard. It is true, all parents know that children are partial and prejudiced creatures. They are all ready to confess it in general terms; yet, when it comes to their own case, they are almost as childish as the children themselves. True, children are not to be trusted; but my little TommyI never caught him in a lie in my life. He speaks the truth I dare sayit is incredible that Tommy should lie. Yes, very incredible, that an exasperated boy, who has deserved twenty whippings before he has received one, and deserved twenty more since that one for connected faults, should not do, what men never dono not the coolestbe an impartial witness in his own cause. There ought to be a complete partnership between masters and parents respecting government. They ought to consult one another, support one another, and never divide their strength. Tell your child that he has not deserved one correction; and it is ten chances to one, but that he will so behave as to receive a dozen more. 5~O4 Common Schools. The separation of religion from our literary instruction, has had a tendency to diminish the excellence of them even in a literary view. It must be granted, that amidst the diversity of sects of which our community is composed, it would be difficult to carry any particular system of religious instruction to the extent to which each party might desire. The Unitarian would notlikethe Assemblys Catechism; nor the Churchman the Cambridge Platform. But surely under pre- tence of liberty of conscience, all religious instruction should not be kept from tender minds at such an important season. No measure of utility can be pushed forward long with zealwhere religion does not supply the motive. Ambition may fire the politician, and fame animate the poet, but in the plain, homely duties of common life, no work will stand which has not religion for its base. We ought to have religious teachers; and religious motives ought be constantly brought up in the government of a school. What is it that gives an increasing interest to the Sabbath school? What is it that has rolled on the Missionary cause amidst all the scorn and neglect with which some have treated it? It is hec~use these operations stand connected Ith the red name of religion. ~ A touches the deep strings of the human ~o I ; ari~ xvhc~ that motive is w~ uting, the cause, though use~ ful, is apt ~o an~ ush. Bnnker-~ liii monume ~t, you know, Loes up very slow, though h~ ~Aory oi I merica is ~o st enilroncd on the top of it. t is uafcLunate that ou~ ~ohools sta~ d associated vith so much that is ~e lar. When we speak of them we think of the welfare of our coon ~ n~ c futue re resentatives and future magis- trates, hut 5~?Oc1J O~ fL~U~ Chrcti~ns, In thi~ compromise of inter- est , there c ~ ~ hst all principle should be sacrificed. F cedom of conse ncc t~ s o~a eed so many sects, that we can hardly sup- port our iehgious institutions; and there is d~ uger, tWt the s me kind of freedom of co1 xience should banis ~ll ;ciigion fom em r schools. Some have none so far, a~ to taft o h nishing the Bible from them as an ~iemeni~y noo~ Such a measure, I venture to say, would be as dis strou to hitei~ tore as to religion itself It is the very best book to lead th~ mind from m~terialism to thinking ; to give its history and morality in its simplest dress. There is no composition in which such high ides are brought out in language so perfectly level to the conception of a child. It is the purest well of English literature. That plain, sLong, S~xon idiom which forms the foundation of our language, in that booh, exists in its purity, and h spread out over every page. It is the very book which I should select of all others; as familiarizing the obscure; embellishing the beautiful; embodying the spiritual, and giving attractions to the sublime. What is it that has made Bunyans Pilgrim, such a favorite with children? It is be- cause, with all the sublimity of Homer, it has brought out these great objects i the language of the nursery. It carries you into a splendid temple on a go-cart. It is just so with the Bible. It has great thoughts for humble minds; and if that book should he lost to our system of education, its ph ce will never be supplied until the wisdom of man can rival the wisdom of God. The last cause which I shall mention as injuring our schools, is one which has injured us in all other respectsit is that narrow policy, which in counting cents, neglects minds, and spares to spend, how- Common Schools. 205 ever great the reversion may be in view. Ah! we want public spirit. We want comprehensive, foreseeing minds. The Quarterly Review, with its usual bitterness, has remarked, that you cannot pass a group of Americans talking together without overhearing the word dollar. You are sure to overhear something about dollar. The word is good English, and we have certainly a right to use it as often as we have occasionbut I wish it might be used a little oftener in a different connection. The charitable man often talks of dollars; so does the man of public spirit. No matter how often you talk of your dollars, if you are resolved to do good with them. If we could afford a little more expense, if we could be rid of that poverty whose seat is chiefly in the mind, we could build better school-houses, we could employ better instructers, we could afford more time to our children and our- selves; we could adopt a policy more noble, more worthy of ourselves and our land. Rich men, I am aware, spend enough in the education of their own children; and we have schools whose chief excellence is their expense. But there is not liberality enough toxv~ rds the public. Charity too often wit~ ers an~. des at the sight of a t x bill. Charity did s~ y? he ~ax hil is OitC~ the deatn of j istice. Loo over our la i~. See the wretched xvigwams which are used for school- houses; see the characters which are employed for schoolmasters; count the sums raised; the time used and the time lost, and then pronounce if Solomon did not utter some wisdom when he said Tiere is that sc tteret a ~d et ~tcreas 2t and tk vs is flat it ~t/ it Ideth yore tha. is meet, ~nit it tendeti to poverty. Such are the auses which I uspect have operated to impair the usefulness of our common schools. Our first duty is to remove these and all other impediments. We nuA lean to value this system not the less because it is old; and give the Lesh ess of novelty to a cause which h~s received the stamp of utility from time. We must form just conceptions of what these institutions might be; we must place the bright ideal of improvement before us. We must endeavor to give more of our attention to common schools, and form a higher estimate of their immeasurable importance. We must not think of the favored fexv; but endeavor to send instruction to the many. We must endea- vor to impress on the public mind, and especially on parents, a sense of the vast importance of education. School committees and instruc- ters should visit the parents, and endeavor to see that the children are actually sent. In some places the attendance is very irregular. We must see to it, that we have instructers, who are men of principle; apt to teach, and able to dischar~, e their duty. We must be xvilling to build spacious and convenient school-houses; and visit them, and take a deep interest in the subject. We must give our time and our money to this great c~use. We must connect it with our views of the welfare of our country, and the sacred name of religion; and finally, we must implore the blessing of God on these institutions, that he would take them under his holy keeping, shed o them his constant gra c,and make them the sources of that knowledge which adorns this life, and that wisdom which leads to salvation. They ought to be the subjects of our most earnest prayers. There is a close connexion between ignorance and vice; and in such a country as our own, the connexion is fatal to freedom. Knowl 2O~ Gommon Sc/tools. edge opens sources of pleasure which the ignorant man can never knowthe pursuit of it fills up every idle hour, opens to the mind a constant source of occupation, wakes up the slumbering powers, gives the secret victory contest and the secret unveils to our astonishment ideal worlds; secures us from temptation and sensuality; and exalts us in the scale of rational beings. When I pass by the grog-shop and hear the idle dispute and the obscene songwhen I see the cart rolled along, filled with intoxicated youth, singing and shouting as they gowhen I discover the boat sailing down the river, where you can hear the influ- ence of ruin by the noise which it makesI cannot but ask, Were these people taught to read? Was there no social library to which they could have access? Did they ever know the caIrn satisfac- tion of taking an improving volume by a peaceful fire-side? 0 did they ever taste the luxury of improving the mind? You hardly ever knew the young man who loved his home and his book that was vicious. Knowledge, is often the poor mans wealth. It is a trea- sure that no thief can steal, no moth nor rust can corrupt. By it you turn his cottage to a palace, and you give a treasure which is always improving and can never be lost. The poor man, says Robert Hall, who has gained a taste for good hooks, will in all likelihood become thoughtful; and when you have given the poor a habit of thinking, you have conferred on them a much greater favor than by the gift of a large sum of money, since you have put into their pos- session the principle of all legitimate prosperity. Nor is it to the poor alone, that this remark applies. The rich need occupation. Their hearts are often like seas, which, stagnant under a breathless atmosphere, putrify for the want of a wave. Employment, roused by some noble object, is the secret of happiness; and of all employments, mental labor lasts the longest. The body soon tires; but the mind, divine in its origin and immortal in its destiny, pur- sues its labors with transient pausings; and rises from every check with fresh vigor to continue its eternal flight. What a beautiful pic- ture does Cicero give of the secret happiness his studies opened to him. You ~vill not blame me, respected judges, at least you will pardon me, if, while some are hurried in business; some keeping holidays; some pursuing pleasure; and some giving their hours to sleep; while one tosses the javelin and another the dice-box, I should steal a little time for the recollection of my studies and the improve- ment of my mind. Yes, he loved these things better than recrea- tion; to him they were more profitable than business and sweeter than sleep. Will our government last? Will America be happy ? are ques- tions often asked with great solicitude. The warm monarchist confi- dently answers no, and the warm republican, as confidently yes. But in my opinion the result depends on a class of men whose names are seldom mentioned in connexion with politics. It depends on our schoolmasters; on our having enough of them well principled and well qualified; and posted in their proper citadelsevery village school. I repeat it again, it is the diffusion of knowledge that must save us. It is often said that knowledge and education must be the Cicero Pro Archia Puta. My Books. 207 guardians of our republic. But knowledge where? Education for what class? The land may be full of seminaries, and yet the country may fall by pure ignorance. Rome never had brighter genius than when she lost her liberties ;never had more knowledge. Cicero, Virgil, Horacethese very names are enough to prove the claims of their country to the highest improvement. But where was this knowl- edge? It was confined to privileged classes; it was locked up in ex- pensive libraries; it was concealed in noble villas; it was monopolized by the few, only to enable them to crush the many beneath the invis- ible chains they were preparing for the mind. There cannot be a more favorable opportunity for the overthrow of liberty than this great inequality. If all were ignorant, they would stand upon a level, and in the balance of disabilities liberty might be safe. But let the rich be well educated, and the poor neglected, and the fall of freedom is certain. The light will predominate over the darkness; the thinkers will rule; and the ignorant will be slaves. Before I relieve the readers patiencealready too much abused permit me to make one suggestion more. Why is it that human na- ture never will be excited in proportion to the magnitude of the ob- ject proposed to its attention? Party questionsthey set us in a flame; questions of the deepest utilitythey put us asleep. It is strange; it is passing strange. We know our own folly; we smile at it; and yet we keep it. Only let some party question start up in our assemblies from the evening caucus to the floor of Congress, and every tongue is unloosed, and every heart is on fire. Day after day is con- sumed in the strife; and the whole country is on a blaze in the concern. Yet no permanent good is gained or lost by the victory or defeat. It is a mere contest of passion, as transient as it is violent raging and passing away. But let some question of permanent utility come up, over which reason watches, but ambition sleeps, and you can hardly command attention enough to investigate the subject. The feelings of the orator are not touched, the ear of the community is not opened. Ah! Human nature is laboring nnder a great disease. We must seek for a cure. MY BOOKS. Mv books are my most constant friends. They are always with me, or near me; always in temper; and always accommodating them- selves to my own capricious mood of feeling. I love them sincerely on their own account, as well as for the sake of a thousand recollec- tions and associations connected with them; and I now intend to speak in public of them as they deserve. I shall write the Biblio- graphy of the heart. 1. MY BIBLE. I take the Bible first, because it is one of the oldest books in my possession, as well as because it is the Book of Books, and stands first in my respect and admiration.

My Books Original Papers 207-215

My Books. 207 guardians of our republic. But knowledge where? Education for what class? The land may be full of seminaries, and yet the country may fall by pure ignorance. Rome never had brighter genius than when she lost her liberties ;never had more knowledge. Cicero, Virgil, Horacethese very names are enough to prove the claims of their country to the highest improvement. But where was this knowl- edge? It was confined to privileged classes; it was locked up in ex- pensive libraries; it was concealed in noble villas; it was monopolized by the few, only to enable them to crush the many beneath the invis- ible chains they were preparing for the mind. There cannot be a more favorable opportunity for the overthrow of liberty than this great inequality. If all were ignorant, they would stand upon a level, and in the balance of disabilities liberty might be safe. But let the rich be well educated, and the poor neglected, and the fall of freedom is certain. The light will predominate over the darkness; the thinkers will rule; and the ignorant will be slaves. Before I relieve the readers patiencealready too much abused permit me to make one suggestion more. Why is it that human na- ture never will be excited in proportion to the magnitude of the ob- ject proposed to its attention? Party questionsthey set us in a flame; questions of the deepest utilitythey put us asleep. It is strange; it is passing strange. We know our own folly; we smile at it; and yet we keep it. Only let some party question start up in our assemblies from the evening caucus to the floor of Congress, and every tongue is unloosed, and every heart is on fire. Day after day is con- sumed in the strife; and the whole country is on a blaze in the concern. Yet no permanent good is gained or lost by the victory or defeat. It is a mere contest of passion, as transient as it is violent raging and passing away. But let some question of permanent utility come up, over which reason watches, but ambition sleeps, and you can hardly command attention enough to investigate the subject. The feelings of the orator are not touched, the ear of the community is not opened. Ah! Human nature is laboring nnder a great disease. We must seek for a cure. MY BOOKS. Mv books are my most constant friends. They are always with me, or near me; always in temper; and always accommodating them- selves to my own capricious mood of feeling. I love them sincerely on their own account, as well as for the sake of a thousand recollec- tions and associations connected with them; and I now intend to speak in public of them as they deserve. I shall write the Biblio- graphy of the heart. 1. MY BIBLE. I take the Bible first, because it is one of the oldest books in my possession, as well as because it is the Book of Books, and stands first in my respect and admiration. ~2O8 My Books But I have not now so much to do with the book, as with my book; my copy of it. It now lies before me,a thick, clumsy, Dutch-built, tome; almost as ample from side to side, as from end to end; plump, and seemingly bursting with truth; and opening, as the Bible always should, more easily than it closes. It bears the stamp of a Bible Society on its brown leather binding; so that it cannot be very old; nor can its owner either; for he was a mere child when it came into his possession. I earned this article of property as many other boys have done and do,by reading it throu li in course. 0, how I read it! Nothing since that time, till the invention of rail-road steam-cars, has realized my ideas of speed. Had I read aloud, I should have made the books and chapters run together like the letters of an old Greek inscription without point, pause, space, or break. Had my ideas of what I read been examined, they would have been found almost as distinct as the whirling radii of a wheel, when moving at the rate of ten miles an hour, over a dusty road. That is the patent mode of making the perusal of the sacred book air intolerable bore,and the book itself the nucleus of a host of fatiguing, revolting, ridiculous associations. Truth to tell, I heartily disliked it,and for a long while after the Bible was my own, I made no use of it except to iiiark the texts from which I heard discourses preached, and other passages which I thought funny or curious. Solomons Song was wofully be-pen- ciled. But though I made small use of it, it was not left unused; for my father, whenever lie was about administering that wholesome flagella- tion which I deserved and needed right often, would take my Bible, and either read to me, or make me read to rnyselg select passages from the Proverbs of Solomon, appropriate to the occasionsuch as a saddle for a horse, a ridic for an ass, and a rod for a fools back, and others equally ertinent. After giving me these as texts, he xvent on to make practical applications and improvements of his subject; sometimes with a slender birch twig about my p~ utaloons, and, at other times, with his bare hand upon my bare skin. Few sermons have made a deeper i~ zpm essioa on me, than those. When I began to fit for College, I found out that it miTht be made of some service ; for K the w~y of ponj, or tr~n5Ltion, to the Greek of f~the~ G iesVoh, the new te~tament was wonderfully con- venient. Hoveve~, when I came to the pad ing up of my books for the purpose of tram sporting them ~or home to the Unive~sity, the unwieldly volume xas so upacicable, so dIfferent from all others in its proportions, that I threw it aside a~ useless lumber. I shall find Bibles enough there, said Ito my rehellious co~ ~emen ~e, as I ~urned the key in my trunk, and then put it into my pocKet. But fortune was reso ved on be~ ter thinos ~or me; wa~ resolved to mortify me for my profi~ne tho~ ghts and conduct. I F c~ just seen my last tru~ aboard the a rrL ge, :id yas putting my foot on the step, when a provoking and impertinent maid of my mothers ran to the door, and screamed out to ire, that I had forgot my Bible. Her noise brought father and m~ other both to her side, and they forthwith ordered a halt until place could be found in some safe corner for the neglected volume. At the time, I could have pulled Marthas ears into shoe- M~, Books. 209 strings; but since then, I have rejoiced that my Bible went with me, It has, in hours of sorrow and sadness, consoled and cheered me as nothing else could have done. I have since purchased many a more splendid copy of the Scrip- tures; but this rough old book is the one on which I prefer to look, for it is the earliest gift of my fatherit has never deserted me. Notwithstanding my general disrespect for it, whenever its doctrines, and no