^x. A^ »: -y : •'.^^"^^ \m^*' /% '^^•\ Z^-^^- .'jtSOTK*'- ^ .-IT >y .'■■. <^ * • . . <{, ■ay ct» * ~' :. '-^.0^ f. ■0^ ^.^.o-^ 1 v\^ » ►vl 0* «^ *7^\a. < •1 o ^o, ':^T'*..o'^ LIBRARY OF AMEKICAN HISTORY; CONTAINING SELECTIONS, FROM THE BEST AUTHORS, ON AMERICAN HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, TRAVELS, COMMERCE, STATISTICS, INDIANS, REVOLUTIONARY BATTLES, ETC., ETC., ETC. ALSO; ANECDOTES, POETRY, AND MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. FROM THE EARLIEST PERIOD TO THE PRESENT TIME. ILLUSTRATED WITH ABOUT ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY ENGRAVINGS. M'' CINCINNATI: & U. P. JAMES, WALNUT STREET, BETWEEN FOURTH AND FIFTH. 18 5 1. ADVERTISEMENT, The "Library of American History" is, as its title page purports, a collection of valuable articles from various sources, many of which have appeared only in the Magazines, and have reached but few readers. The publishers hope they are doing the public an acceptable service by embodying these documents in a book where tliey may be better preserved, and accessible at all times. Many of the essays, sketches, &c., are truly gems of history. Among the authors are found the names of Vcrplanck, Delaplaine, Knapp, Ward, Todd, Butler, McKiernan, Monette, Irving, Audubon, and Bancroft; names of high standing among the Historians of America. Some of the most prominent actors, in subjects treated upon, were Washington, Penn, Marquette, Capt. Smith, Boone, Paul Jones, Adams, Hancock, Shelby, Clark, Morgan, Clinton, and FuUon. Biographies, Revolutionary Battles, Revolutionary Reminiscences, Revolutionary Anecdotes, American Scenery, Descriptions of Cities and Towns, Important Edifices, Antiquities and Monu- ments, occupy places in the work. The following are a few of the many articles which must be read with deep and lively interest— "An Historical' Sketch of the Natchez, or District of Natchez;"— "Destruction of the Moravian Towns, on the Muskingum River, 1781;"— "Indian Attack upon Wheeling, in 1777;"— "Old Cross Fire ; a Story of the North-western Border;"— "The Mississippi;"-" Early Habits, Customs, &c., of the West;"— "The Squatters of the Mississippi;"— " American Caverns;"— "Cruise of the Sparkler ;"-" Old Ironsides on a Lee Shore ;"-" Fifty Years of Ohio;"- " Attack and Defence of the Alamo." The engravings, of which the work contains about 140, were executed by some of the best wood engravers in America : they embrace a great variety of subjects, Portraits, Battle Scenes, Plans of Battle Grounds, Rural Scenery, Treaties, Views of Towns and Edifices, &c. In a few cases articles describing the same events, by different writers, have been selected ; but, as no two persons see the same objects precisely in the same light, various phases are pre- sented; thereby adding to the value of each. In regard to the short articles and pieces of poetry interspersed through the book, having but little or no reference to American History, but possessing much intrinsic merit, it may be said, that they do not occupy much space, and the reader can easily pass them, should the headings not be attractive. But, as they are so diversified, it is hoped that all may prove acceptable. E )»i3 CONTENTS. A. Page. American Biography— George Washington .... 14 Samuel Adams 53, 552 John Paul Jones • 65 George CUnton 79 Robert Fulton 81 Sketch of Brandt 86 Capt. John Smith 93 Gadwallader Golden . . . 101-104 James Bowdoin, Esq 109 Isaac Shelby 113 George Rogers Clarke .... 116 Benjamin West 119 John Marshall, Chief Justice U.S 123 William Prescott 125 Nathaniel Bowditch .... 127 Robert R. Livingston, LL. D . 133 Samuel Provoost, D. D. . . . 137 Arthur St. Clair 143 William Penn 144 J. Langdon, Noticeof . . . . 152 John Hancock 551 Rufus King 154 Benjamin Logan 378 Otho HoUand WiUiams ... 507 Charles CarroU 639 American Mechanics 96 Andre, John 97 An .American Cedar Swamp . . . 203 Ability required for Instruction . . 205 American Revolution 222 Animals of .South Africa .... 222 .American Vines 267 Albany — Historical Reminiscence . 277 A View of Portland, Maine ... 280 Arnold's Escape 305 A Russian Wedding 310 Auburn, N.Y 332 An Escape from Indians 350 A strange Sentence 359 American Antiquarian Society . . 362 Amherst College 363 Adams' Temple, in Quincy, Mass. . 369 An Historical Sketch of the Natchez, or District of Natchez, Miss. . . 380 Asiatic Sheep 402 Ancient Mexican Cotton Manufac- ture 412 Ancient Mounds on the American Bottom, 111 414 A Walk among the Tombs .... 428 A Seminole Tradition 443 An Indian Council 444 American Commeuce — Naples 448 Hamburgh 450 Marseilles 511 St. Johns, New Foundland . . . 450 American caverns — Weyer's Cave, Va. . . . Redtield's Cave, Ind. . . Great Cave in New York Great Cave of Indiana . Cavern at Watertown Cavern at Trenton Falls 461 466 468 469 471 544 Paoe. A Naval Reminiscence 475 American ANTiauiTiES — . . . 147 Palenque 499,472,475 Temple of the Sun at Cuzco in Peru 477 American Sceneht — . . . 353, 479 The Arch Rock at Mackinac . 533 The Cumberiand Waterfall . 534 The Ohio 539 Canandaigua Lake, Naples, &c. 543 Falls of Montmorency .... 567 Montgomery Place, Dutchess County, N. Y. ...... 568 Anecdote of Mrs. .Adams .... 483 Adventure in the Cumberland Mts. 560 Arnold's Expedition into Canada in 1775 495 A Scrap of History 502 Americus Vespucius 509 A Relic of Ancient Days .... 541 Ancient Fort in Butler Co. Ohio . 562 Ancient MS. for the Gospels . . . 566 Anecdote of Judge Parsons . . . 577 Agricultural Statistics of the United States 578 Androscoggin Bridge 588 A Hint to Wives 601 Attack and Defence of the Alamo . 602 Astoria 615 Articles of Confederation .... 625 B. Battle of North Point 203 Battle Monument, Baltimore . . . 202 Bodily Exercise 204 British Authorities. — Beauty . . . 205 Boston in 1776 . • 285 Boston, from Dorchester Heights . 292 Battle of Bloody Brook 317 Buflfalo Post Office, N. Y 371 Banana 402 Blood 447 Baltimore in the Olden Time . . . 494 Bounty on wheat . 577 C. Curious Coincidence 110 Curious Relic of Antiquity . ... 191 Conway. N. H 3.54 City Hall, Augusta, Ga 356 Curious Discovery at Pompeii . . 375 Capture of Vincennes 404 Capitol of Indiana 130 Census for 1840 428 Contentment . . 428 . Character 249 Cruise of the Vincennes 510 Cruise of the Sparkler 513 California 542 Capt. Ericsson's Steam Fire-engine 548 Chivalry in Early -America . . . 563 Chain Bridge over the Potomac . 587 Constitution of the United States , 620 Curious Historical fact 229 Cure for intemperance and snioki.g 458 D. Daniel Morgan 72 Defeat of Gen. Braddock 159 Distance of Stars in the Milky Way 195 Daniel Boone 201 Destruction of the Tea 288 Desert of California 354 Page. Dartmouth College 360 Discovery of Marble 375 Destruction of the Moravian Towns 393 Drying of Stufis 447 Deserted Children 67 Department of State, Washington, D. C 570 Discoveries in Early Age . . . 584 E. Early History of New York ... 77 Eastern State Penitentiary, Pennsyl- vania 374 Early Habits, Customs, etc. of the West .... 403, 409, 423, 426, 429 Effects of Climate and Passions on the Mind, 424 Extracts from the Letters of Mrs. Adams, mother of John Quincy Adams . . . . 481 Extraordinary Property of Shadows 545 Early Times in Tennessee .... 575 Extinct Race of men 440 Extravagance 601 Ethan Allen in England 618 Excellent Hints to Mechanics . . 619 Fairies 56 First American Naval Achievement 110 Father Marquette 1 1 1 Formation of Hail 280 Flying 430 Female Sailor 439 Fulfillment of Prophecy .... 447 Fox-colored Sparrow 485 Franklin's Advice to Young Trades- men 486 Fourth of July in Palestine .... 505 Fruits and Scenery of Florida . . 536 Fifty Years .Ago in Ohio .... 595 G. Great Seal of the United States . . 52 Geneva Medical College, N. Y. . . 361 Good News for the Whale . . . 483 Greek Antiquities in America . . 519 George Fox and the Quakers . . . 557 H. Hunting Exploits 193 Hell Gate 264 Henry Hudson 268 Homer Village, N. Y 339 Hartford Charitable Institutions . . 357 History of a Missouri Earthquake . 504 Height of Waves 587 I. Indian Paradise 39 Indian Manners 122 Iron Mountains in Missouri .... 35 Indians in the United States . . . 209 Instance of great Self-Possession . 259 Indian Skeletons 375 vii Vlll CONTENTS. Institution for the Deaf and Dumb in Philadelphia 376 Inierestins Facts 58 Indian Atl.iclt on Whedini; in 1777, 411 Indian .Vimiiicls in the South West 431 Interesting Extracts 435 Indian Written Language .... 440 Iron Ml Oak ■ . . . 477 Ijidian Religion and Morality . . . 392 Indian Summer — American Forests, and the influence of the Great Lakes on our Autumnal Sunsets 531 J. John Adams and George III . . . 57 Jamestown, Va 306 lung PhiUp 457 L. Literary Review — Portrait Gallery of Distinguished Americans . . . 129 Lake Champlain 325 Language 366 Jjitcrary and Scientific Societies . . 245 Loss of Life by Wars ...... 280 Lynch Law 5G6 Longevity .... • 5S4 Legal Pleasantries 609 M. Mount Vernon ........ 21 Mineral Wealth of Africa .... 39 Major Andre 95 Moore's House at Yorktown, Va. . 186 Montpelier 230 Monticello 2.34 Masonic Hall, New York .... 258 Mexican Researches 292 Massachusetts General Hospital, Bos- ton 365 Merchant's Exchange, N. Y. . . . 311 ftfineral Riches of the West . . . 434 Montgomery 443 Minerals in the United States . . 545 Missouri 570 N. i\aturalUt's Walk 223 New York city Reservoir .... 257 Naval Reniiniscencef 335 New Air Engine 442 Noble Sentiments 512 New Fish 533 North .Xmerica 560 New York Fire Department . . . 580 O Olden Times in Massachusetts ... 29 On the Evils of War 191 Old Ticonderoga 206 Old Cross-Fire — A Story of the North Western Border 396 Our Country 504 Old Ironsides on a Lee Shore . . . 519 Our National Flag 530 Oregon Territory • 605 Osage Orange 562 P. Progenitors of Washington ... 38 Portraits by Lord Brougham — Na- poleon — Washington 59 Benj. Franklin 506 Putnam and the Wolf 68 " Recollections of 71 Pittsburgh in 1784 193 Passage Irom a Private Journal . . 208 Population of the United Slates . . 223 Private Fortunes 395 Poughkeepsie, N. Y 344 Pumice Stone 371 Philadelphia Theatre 372 Public Houses 422 Post Master Franklin 467 Population 483 Pocahontas 634 Patriotism 498 Printing and the .\rts 538 Picture of British Guiana .... 541 Philadelphia Fire Department . . 582 R. 874, 151 REvoLVTioxAnv Reminis. 208,211,155 Bennington Battle Ground . . 194 REVOLUTIONAnT BaTTLES Battle of Long Island . . . .161 Operations in New Jersey, Delaware, and Pennsylvania 170 Operations in the South . . . .173 Capture of Burgoyne at Sara- toga 177 Capture of Cornwallis 1781 . 180 Battle of the Brandy wine . . 196 Battle of Saratoga 198 Residences of the Presidents , . . 239 Relics of By-gone Days 324 Ruins of the old Fort Conanicut, R.I. 353 Residence of Washington Irving . 373 Resources of the West 426 Red River . . . . ' 434 Rivers in Mississippi 532 Remarkable Discovery 566 Resources of Illinois 567 RETOLUTioNAny Anecdotes — John Hancock 190 General Putnam 190 Isaac HayneofS. C 191 .\n Incident 192 A New Jersey Hero .... 195 Give it to 'em 200 An Incident 200 The Veteran Pomroy .... 204 Commodore Decatur .... 204 British Authorities 205 Constitution and Guerriere . . 205 Baron Steuben, etc 217 Mrs. Charles Elliot 218 Mrs. Richard Shubrick ... 218 Mrs. Jacob Mott 218 Mrs. Wright 218 Baron Steuben 218 Mrs. Charles Elliot 219 Mrs. D.iBiel Hall 219 Mrs. Thos. Havward .... 219 Mrs. Channing 219 Mrs. Wiley Jones 219 Mrs. Pinkney 219 Gen. Putnam 220 Lieut. Moore 220 Gen. Jackson 220 British Atrocities 220 Gen. Putnam 221 Retort Courteous 221 Maj. Edwards 221 A Standing Army 221 Tom. Gage's Proclamation . 151 Washington 229 Mrs. McCoy 219 S. Signers of the Declaration of Inde- pendence 51 Sybil's Cave 129 Sadness 222 St. Paul's Churcli, New York . . 254 Squatters 349 St. I'aul's Church, Albany. N. Y. . 350 Schenectady Lyceum. N. Y. . . . 355 Smithville Seminary, North Scituatc, Rhode Island 369 Silver Mines of Chihuahua . . . 441 Sketches of Am. Character . . . 506 Summer on Prairie 554 Statistics 540 Scientific Notice^ 581 Sacrifice of a Land Tortoise . . . 583 Scenes and Scenery in Illinois . . 588 St. Anthony's Nose, N. Y. ... 595 Sapphira 619 T The Heroic .-Vge 11 The ^'illage Prize 22 The Independence Bell 34 The Olden Times 39 The Treachery of .\mold .... 40 The Tomb of Washington .... 42 The Character of Washington . . 45 The Declaration of Independence . 46 The Father of Nanlucket .... 52 The White Indians 94 'J'he Prairies IBO To Young .Men 203 The Solitary Grave 215 The U. S. Seat of Government . . 224 The Pioneers of Ohio 227 The Old Jail ol the Revolution in Now York 254 The Family Meeting 263 The Western Barrens 267 The .\rctic Passage Discovered . . 268 The Pahsades, N. Y 270 The Indians of Western New York 273 Tobacco .'i77 The Capitol of Virginia, at Richmond 313 Tomb of Columbus at Seville . . . 314 The Baptism of Pocahontas . . . 326 The Mountain House 329 The Moon 349 Tail of a gigantic Lizard .... 37.") The Mississippi 376 Transylvania University, Lexington, Ky 377 The Lake Fisheries 153 The Cotenu des Prairies .... 395 The American Bottom 406 The Mississii)pi 413 The Pawnee Sacrifice 417 The emigraied Indians 420 The Hum;in Slalurc 425 The good old Times 426 The Source of the Mississippi . . . 438 Tranquility 444 The Squatters of the Missis.sippi . . 446 Tortoise Shell 47 1 The Lost One 484 Ticonderoga 48.5 The Last .A.rrow 489 The Siege of Fort Meigs 496 The Ajwllo Gallery, New York . . 499 The Northern Sources of the Hudson 521 The Western Hunter- 556 Treat!,' of William Fenn .... 584 The Maiden's Rock, Lake Pepin, on the Mississippi 599 ThcHeJgc-hog 601 The Oregon Expedition 610 To Mechanics 619 V. View of the City of New York . . 241 View in Broadway, N. Y 250 Views in Boston — Faneuil Hall and adjacent build- ings '301 The Capitol of Massachusetts 301 Suflblk Bank 302 Tremont Street 305 Value ofthe Willow 513 W. Washington's Tomb 24 EMBELLISHMENTS IX Pace. Washington's Head Quarters at Mor- ristown, N. J 27 Washington's Headquarters at Cam- bridge, Mass 30 Washington's Head Quarters at Mew- burgh, N. Y 35 Washington in the P'ield of Victory and Chamber of Death ... 40 What IS Truth 137 Pace. William Penn's Treaty with the In- dians 148 Waterloo after the Battle . • . . 182 Why the Nettle Stings 223 Waves 253 W'illiamsburgh, L. 1 260 West Point 320 Wild Orange Groves 336 West Blooniiield, N. Y 340 Pace. Washington Medical College, Md. . 370 Western Scenery 436 Wimppagno's Grave 502 Washington's Farewell Address . . C29 Wood River Massacre 565 Y. Yazoo 115 Yorktown, Va., 185 EMBELLISHMENTS. A. Page. Arrival of the English at Roanoke . 1 Auburn, N. Y 233 J American Antiquarian Hall . . . 362 Amherst College 363 Adams Temple, Quincy, Mass. . . 367 yAn Eastern Choultry .' 422 Anthony's Nose, N. Y 593 B. BlOGRAPHT Samuel Adams . . Chevalier Paul Jones • Peter Stuyvesant . . "'Robert Fulton . . . 'Brant or Thayendanegea ^'Capt. John Smith . . /^Major Andre .... ' .'Cadwallader Golden . ' James Bowdoin . . . Benjamin West . . . William Peun .... Americus Vespucips . Braddock's Defeat .... Battle Monument, Baltimore Boston Massacre Builalo Post Office .... 54 63 7.') 82 87 92 95 104 108 120 146 509 158 202 287 371 Bridge on the Androscoggin . . . 589 C Capitol of Indiana 131 Capture of Major .4ndre 95 (-"apitol at Washington 225 Capitol of Virginia, at Richmond . 313 Cathedral, at Seville, Spain . . . 315 City Hall. Augusta, Geo 3.'i6 Chesnut Street Theatre, Phil. . . 372 Civil Edifice, at Palenque .... 473 Capt. Ericsson's Steam Fire Engine 549 Costume of Chief Engineer ... 581 Chain Bridge over the Potomac . . 585 Charles Carroll 639 D. Destruction of the Tea in Boston Harbor 289 Deaf and Dumb Asylum, Harlfd. Ct. 359 Dartmouth College, N. H 360 Diagrams of Steam Fire Engine . . S.'iO Department of Slate 570 E. Eastern State Penitentiary, Phil. . 374 F. ^/ Fac-Simile of Dighton Rock . . . 475 Falls of Montmorency ... ... 567 Great Seal of U. S Geneva Medical College, N. Y. " Homer Village, N. Y. ... 2 52 361 337 Page. I. Inauguration of Washington ... 14 Institution for the Deaf and Dumb at Philadelphia 376 King Philip 456 M. Moses, by West 121 Moore's House at Yorktown, Va. . 187 Map of Washington City .... 224 Masonic Hall, N. Y 258 Mountain House 329 Mansion House, Pougbkeepsie . . 344 Massachusetts General Hospital . . 365 Map of the Sources of the Hudson . 529 Monument of the Great Treaty of Penn at Shackamaxon . . . 58t Maiden's Rock on the Upper Missis- sippi 600 Map of Oregon Teritory 606 N. New York as it was in 1 673 New York city Reservoir Neapolitan Peasants . . . New York Fireman and Engine . 247 257 450 580 P. Putnam and the Wolf 69 Poughkeepsie Locomotive Engine Factory 345 Collegiate School • . 34fi '* Female Academy . 347 Hotel 348 Eagle Exchange . . 349 " Van Kleek House at 344 Philadelphia Fire Engine and Fire- man 582 Pocahontas saving Life of Smith . . 635 Portrait of Pocahontas 637 R. Residence of Washington at Mount Vernon 20 " of Ex President Madison . 231 " " Thos. Jeflerson .... 235 " " Ex President Adams . 237 " " Washington Irving . . 373 REVOLUTlONARr Battles — Plan of the Battle of Long Island 162 Map of Seat of War in Southern States 174 Map showing the operations of Page. the American and British ar- mies in N. Jersey, Penn. and Delaware, in 1776 and 1777 170 Map showing the Route of Gen. Burgoyne, previous to his sur- render at Saratoga, 1777 . . 177 Plan of the Investment of York in Virginia, 1781 180 Yorktown, Virginia 184 Old Ticonderoga 206 Ruins of Jamestown, Virginia . . 307 Ruinsof Old Fort Connanicut, R. 1. 353 Retreat for the Insane. Hartford, Con. 357 Ruins of Merchant's Exchange . .312 S. Statue of William Penn ..... 146 St Paul's Church, Albany N. Y. . 351 .Schenectady Lyceum 355 Srailhville Seminary 369 St. Johns, Newfoundland .... 450 Sisal Hemp 538 .Sybil's Cave 129 T. Treaty of William Penn with the In- dians 149 The Old Jail, New York .... 254 The Landing of Henry Hudson . . 268 The Mountain House 329 Transylvania University, Lexington Kentucky 377 The Squatters of the Mississippi . . 446 The Last Arrow 488 View of New York 243 " in Broadway 251 » of St Paul's Church, N. Y. . 255 " of Williamslmrgh, L. I. . . . 261 " of Hell Gate 265 " of the Palisades on the Hudson 271 " of Albany, N. York .... 275 " of Portland, Mame .... 281 " of Boston, taken on the road to Dorchester 283 " of Boston, from Dorchester Heights ...... 293 View of a Timber Raft on Lake Champlain .... 325 " Near Conway, N. H 354 " of Naples 449 " " Hamburg .... 451 " " Marseilles 611 Views in Boston — Faneuil Hall 295 Pan of the Old Mall . . . 297 The Slate House 300 Suffolk Bank, State st. ... 302 View in Treniont Street . . . 303 W. Washington's Tomb . 24 POETRY. ^ Pags. Washington's Head Quarters at Mor- ristown, IV. J 25 jWashington's Headquarters at Cam- bridge, Mass 31 PlOE. Washington's Head Quarters at New- burg, K. Y 35 Wasliington's Tomb at Mount \'er- non 43 Page. West Point, N. V 320 M'cst Bloomfield, N. Y 341 Washington Medical College, Bait. 370 , Weyer's Cave in Virginia .... 459 Yonaown, Va 184 POETRY A. Pace. Army in the Field 319 Art 408 An Indian Story COl B. Battle of the Kegs 172 Burial of the Indian Girl .... 454 C. City of N.York 469 Comments by R. H. Wilde ... 331 Chansonette ... • 501 Charity . 227 F. Fountain of Youth 210 Family Meeting 263 1. Immortality 328 It is not always May 483 I,. Lines on Revisiting the Country . 565 My Native Home M. Pare. . 197 Stanzas N. New England 34 Nature 57 N. P. WilUs 331 Napoleon 503 0. On leaving New York 24 On crossing the .Mleghanies . . . 227 Our Country's Call 227 Ode to Jamestown 309 Ode, by W. C. Bryant 508 Our Country's Flag 535 On laying Corner Stone 41 P. Power of Song 233 Parting of Summer 435 Spring . Stanzas 42 85 Page. . 214 Summer Wind 410 T. The Hudson . The Cow Chase The Beividcre Apollo The Child in Search of her Father , The Noble Sailor To a Redbreast The Pioneers The Hour Glass The Mother To the Evening Wind To an absent Sister 'I'he Sisterless The Two Homes To a Moscheto The Cloud The Silkworm's Will The Knight's Epitaph Wedded Love The Fountain of Youth .... The Musician's Last Hour , , , . . 130 99 124 142 147 240 201 240 257 328 331 210 410 425 480 553 620 364 210 19U AMERICAN HISTORY. THE HEROIC AGE. Every nation, eminent for its civilization and the true greatness arising from it, has had its heroic age — an age to which the patriot turns with the greatest reverence, and learns from tlie volume of its history, written or oral, the true causes of its first successful progress ;is a distinct empire, and the character of the men to whom it is indebted for its existence and per- petuity. The heroic age of a nation is that period when, in its weakest state as a colony, the people, led on by some daring spirit, contenil nianf\dlv against all obstacles and subdue every enemy which opposes their progress. It is that age when physical and moral forces are opposed — when the national preju- dices of aborigines and colonists must be assimilated if not destroyed, and when the light of civilization first essays to dispel barbarian darkness. Assyria, Egypt, Iran, Carthaije, Greece, Etruria, Rome, and Britain, have all had their heroic ages ; and last in the catalogue is our owji Republic. Although two hundred years have not yet elapsed since the first English colony took permanent root in America, and planted that seed of civil and religious liberty which has now grown up such a noble and wide-spreading tree, yet the events of those two cen- turies are characterized by loftier patriotism, nobler heroism and more enduring good to mankind, present and future, than ever distinguished Rome durini; the thousand years from the era of TuUius, to her rapid decline. We behold with admiration the struggles of infant Carthage; — but what were they, compared to those of the weak colonies of America ? We sympathise with the Moors, when, on reading the history of the past, we see them disputing, inch by inch, the soil of Granada with the barbarians, and successfully introdu- cing civilization and refinement into western Europe; but their warfare was more equal and their resources far greater, than were the Pilgrim fathers and their contemporaries. The former were nerved for physical strife, and had powerful allies near ; they were dis- ciplined in the arts of war, and entered upon the great task of building up a new empire, with the united strength of thousands concentrated to one point. Not so the English colonists in America. They came few in number, and those few were separated from the civilized world by three thousand miles of ocean. They came almost unarmed, and reared their standard in a wilderness filled with barbarous tribes, exaspera- ted by acts of former transient settlers, and jealous of the encroachments of those they deemed intruders. Famine, sickness, dissensions, and the conspiracies and attacks of their savage neijihbors. were the obsta cles which the colonists were obliged to contend with, in addition to the great labor of levelling the dense for- est, constructing dwellings, tilling the soil and organi- zing a civil government. But all of these were over- come ; — the savages were reduced to submission, towns sprang up like magic in the wilderness, and the foundation for a miglitv republic, now stretching over half a continent, was laid deep and firm. To ac- complish all this, required the exercise of all the no- bler faculties of the human soul. It required great moral and personal courage, the zeal of benevolent patriotism of the most ardent nature, and the due ex- ercise and control of all those passions and sentiments which impart true greatness to the character of man. This great work luas .accomplished — A new empire was formed — the people became a sovereignty, inde- pendent of all other nations — took their oath of alle- giance to a newly formed constitution — and, with this crowning act, ended the heroic age of America. On the tenth day of April, 1607, three small ships, of which the largest did not exceed a hundred ttins burden, entered Chesapeake bay, freighted with one hundred and five men, a small stock of provisions,, and a iew arms and ammunition. For four months they had been bufleling the waves of the Atlantic, and for three days previous to the time in question, they had battled with a furious storm in vain attempts to land at Roanoke, where Raleigh had three times plan- ted a colony, bul willi disastrous consequences. This little company ofay visitors, and taken away as memen- loes. The front of the cemetery is constructed of l)rick, and has a ]ilain iron door of the usual size. In the wall over the entrance, is a small slab of white marble, with these two words inscribed upon it: "Washington F.amily." Below is another stone, containing the following brief passage from the Scrip- tures ; " / am the renirrection and the life ; he that helievelh on me, though he were dead, yet shall he live." Such is the simple tomb of Wnshinuton : no other monument marks his grave. ON LEAVING REW YORK.-Gbeelev. I. She fades from my vision, the ducen of ihe West. In the gloom of a cloud-mantled even ; And the stars which should spangle the calm river's breast Now light but their own native heaven. I may view them no more from Manhattan's bright shore, As they gleam on her own noble bay ; Siill Care is behind me — Affection before — Then light be our parting ! — away ! II. Fair City of Commerce ! my home and my pride ! My hopes are entwined with thee yet ; .^nd though from tliee this moment I blissfully glide, 1 should leave thee for aye with regret ; I shall glad me full oft with a dream of thy spires, As o'er mountain and valley I stray — And return thee niy heart when its furlough expires: f^o Ugh t be our parting ! — awa y ! III. Thus ever with me, as Life's pathway I tread. And joys witli years silently fleet, I mourn not the Past — I deplore but the Dead — While the Future with transport I greet Friends fade from my sight — they are stil' with my Iieart- We may meet on some happier day — It were nothing to meet if we feared not to part : So light be our parting !— away ! > a o 1^ o CO a w > o a > pi H 05 2 o 2 o 2 27 WASHINGTON'S HEAD-QUARTERS, MOREISTOWN, N. J. The cut opposite is a representation of the mansion of the Hon. Judge Fovd of Morristown, New Jersey, which was occupied by General Washington during the winter of 1777, as his head-quarters, whither he had retired after the memorable battle of Princeton. The events which had transpired immediately preceding the period when Washington chose Morristown for his winter quarters were as extraordinary as they were vitally important to the cause of American liberty. By great exertions and im- minent peril, he had succeeded in crossing the Delaware just at the commencement of a severe winter, with an army poorly clad, greatly inferior in numbers and discipline to the enemy, and their term of service just expired. The hard- ships of war, the despondency of hope deferred and other depressing causes wrought in a great majority of them a determination to quit the army and retire to their homes. The commander-in- chief saw that the fate of the country depended on them, and with persuasions and largesses he prevailed on tliem to remain in service six weeks longer. Sir William Howe, observing this bold move- ment of the little army of Americans, resolved to punish them for their audacity, and sent Corn- wallis, who was about embarking for England, to drive them from New Jersey. Washington made immediate preparations for his reception, for he well knew that this struggle would be a decisive one that would terminate in freedom or slavery to the colonies. He knew that fearful odds were against him, but he trusted to the superior strength of that principle which actuates men when fighting for their families and firesides. He was then stationed at Trenton, and learning, that the enemy's battalions were marching toward that place, he prepared for an attack. Detach- ments harassed them on the road, and they did not arrive till four o'clock in the afternoon, when a conflict ensued which lasted till dusk. Corn- wallis determined to renew the attack in the morning, but when day dawned, the Americans had disappeared. By a circuitous route Wash- ington had marched to Princeton where three regiments were stationed, with orders to rein- force Cornwallis, and before sunrise on the morn- ing of the third of January 1777 he commenced an attack upon them, which led to a decisive victory. The British had more than one hun- dred killed and three hundred taken prisoners. The American loss was small in numbers, but great in the death of the brave General Mercer and Colonels Haslett and Potter. After this battle, Washington marched to Pluckemin, where his troops, who had not slept for thirty-six hours, found rest. After a halt of a day or two, he marched to Morristown, where he took up his winter quarters. But here he was not idle, for he sent out detachments in all direc- tions to harass the enemy, and in a short time not a British or Hessian regiment was left in New Jersey, except at Brunswick and Amboy. "The glory of these achievements" says Sparks, " was rendered doubly conspicuous by their immediate eflects. The despondency which had weighed heavily upon the minds of the people, was dis- pelled as by a charm, the martial spirit was re- vived, and a new animation was infused into the public council." Washington's first care after putting his troops into winter quarters, was to complete the army for the spring campaign. To do this he address- ed circular letters to the governors of the north- ern and middle states, requesting them to be active in the enlistment of men. But his neces- sary policy of publicly magnifying liis numbers, to deceive the enemy, made the states less ener- getic in their action, and spring came and found his army almost as meager as it was in autumn. Yet he did not despair, and as soon as the enemy began to move in the spring, the Americans were prepared to meet them. This was the most gloomy period of the Revolution, but the capture of Burgoyne, the arrival of La Fayette with twenty-four thousand muskets, and other muni- tions of war, and the important victories soon after achieved shed an inspiring ray over the colonies that illuminated every heart and rallied hundreds of doubters around the standard of Liberty. The following sketch of the death of General Mercer, which occurred but a few days previous to Washington's going into winter quarters at Morristown, may not inappropriately be inserted here. It is taken from the Custis Recollections and Private Memoirs of the Life and Character of Washington. " The historical records of the AVar of the American Revolution are all in error as respects the death of General Mercer, who fell at the bat- tle of Princeton, the third of January 1777. We offer the homage of our veneration for this mar- tyr's memory, by giving to his adopted country and the world, authentic particulars of the hero- ism and devotion that attended his fall. "It was immediately after the sharp conflict at the fence, between the advance guard of the American army, led by General Mercer, and the British seventeenth regiment, and the retreat of the Americans through the orchard near to Clark's house and barn, that General Mercer, while ex- erting himself to rally his broken troops, was brought to the ground by a blow from the butt of a musket. He was on foot at this time — the gray horse he rode at the beginning of the action having been disabled by a ball in the fore leg. the British soldiers were not at first aware of 28 the General's rank, for the morning being cold, he wore a surtout over his uniform. So soon as they fiiscovercd that he was a general officer, they shouted that they had got the rebel General, and cried, 'Call for quarters, you d — d rebel!' Mercer to the most undaunted courage united a quick and ardent temperament ; he replied with indignation to his enemies, wiiile their bayonets were at his bosom, that he deserved not the name of rebel; and, determining to die as he had lived, a true and honored soldier of liberty, lounged with his sword at the nearest man. They then bayonetted him, and left iiim for dead. " Upon tlie retreat of the enemy, the vvounded General was conveyed to Clark's I'.owse, immedi- ately adjoining the field of battle. The informa- tion that the commander-in-chief first received of the fall of his old companion in arms of the war of 1755, and beloved officer, was that he had expired under his numerous wounds ; and it was not until the American army was in full march for Morristown tliat the chief was undeceived, and learned, to his great gratification, that Mercer, though fearfully wounded, was yet alive. Upon the first halt, at Somerset court-house, Washing- ton despatched the late ]Major George Lewis, his nephew, and captain of the Horse Guards, with a flag and a letter to Lord Cornwallis, requesting that every possible attention might be shown to the wounded General, and permission that young Lewis should remain with him to minister to his wants. To both requests his Lordship yielded a willing assent, and ordered his stafl-surgeon to attend upon General Mercer. Upon an examina- tion of the wounds, the British surgeon remarked that, although they were many and severe, he was disposed to believe that they would not prove dangerous. Merct^r, bred to the profession of an army surgeon in Europe, said to young Lewis, 'Raise my right arm, Georoje, and this gentleman will there dii>cover the smallest of my wounds, but which will prove the most fatal. Yes, sir, that is a fellow that will very soon do my business.' He languished till the twelfth, and expired in the arms of Lewis, admired and lamented by the whole army. During the period that he languish- ed on the co\ich of suffering, he exonerated his enemies from the foul accusation which they bore not only in 1777, but for half a century since, viz : of their having bayonetted a general officer after he had surrendered his sword, and become a prisoner of war — declaring that he only relin- quished his sword when his arm had become powerless to wield it. He paid the homage of his whole heart to the person and character of the commander-in-chief, rejoiced with true sol- dierl}' pride in the triumphs of Trenton and I'riuceton, in both of which he had borne a con- spicuous part, and oH'ered up his fervent prayers for the final success of the cause of American In- dependence. " Thus lived and died Hugh Mercer, a name that will for ever be associated with momentous events in the history of the War of the Revolu- tion. When a grateful posterity shall bid the trophied memorial rise to the martyrs who sealed with their blood the charter of an empire's liber- ties, there will not be wanting a monument to him whom Washington mourned as the worthy and brave General fiercer. " We shall give a single anecdote of the subject of the foregoing memoir, to show the pure and high minded principles that actuated the patriots and soldiers of the days of our country's first trial. " Virginia at first organized two regiments for the common cause. When it was determined to raise a third, there were numerous applications lor commissions ; and. these being mostly from men of fortune and family interest, there was scarcely an application for a rank less than a field officer. During the sitting of the House of Bur- gesses upon the important motion, a plain but soldierly-looking individual handed up to the speaker's chair a scrap of paper, on wliich was written 'Hugh Mercer will serve his adopted coimtry and the cause of liberty in any rank or station to which he may be appointed.' This, from a veteran soldier, bred in European tamps, the associate of Washington in the war of 1755, and kno^vn to stand high in his confidence and esteem, was all-sufficient for a body of patriots and statesmen such as com))Osed the Virginia House of Burgesses in the days of the Revolution. The appointment of Mercer to the command of the third Virginia regimtnt was carried iustanter. "It was while the commander-in-chief reined up b.is horse, upon approaching the spot in a plough- ed field where lay the gallant Colonel Haslett mortally wounded, that he perceived some British soldiers supporting an officer, and upon inquiring his name and rank, was answered, Captain Leslie. Doctor Benjamin Rush, who formed a part of the General's sui:,e, earnestly asked, 'A son of the Earl of Leven V to which the soldiers replied in the affirmative. The Doctor then addressed the General-in-chief : 'I beg your Excellency to permit this wounded officer to be placed under my care, that I nuiy return, in however small a degree, a part of the obligations I owe to his worthy father for the many kindnesses received at his hands while I was a student in Edinburgh.' The request was immediately granted ; but, alas ! pom' Leslie was soon 'past all surgery.' He died the same evening, alter receiving every pos- sible kindness and attention, and was buried the next day at Pluckemin, with the honors of war ; his soldiers, as they lowered his remains to the soldier's last rest, shedding tears over the grave of a much loved commander. " The battle of Princeton, for the time it lasted and the numbers engaged, was the most fatal to our officers of any action during the whole of our Revolutionary war. The Americans losing one general, two colonels, one major, and three cap- tains, killed — while tlie martini prowess of our enemy shone not with more brilliant lustre in any one of their combats during their long career ot arms than did the courage and discij)line of the seventeenth British reuiuicnt on the third of Jan- uary, 1777. Indeed, Washington himself, during the height of the conflict, pointed out this gallant corps to his officers, exclaiming, 'See how those noble fellows fight ! Ah! gentlemen, when shal! we be able to keep an army long enough togeth- er to display a discipline equal to our enemies,' 29 " The regular troops that constitued the grand army at the close of the campaign of '76, were the fragments of many regiments, worn down by consrant and toilsome marches, and suflering of every sort, in the depth of winter. The fine regi- ment of Smallwood, composed of the flower of the Maryland youth and which, in the June pre- ceding, marched into Philadelphia eleven hundred strong, was, on the third of January, reduced to scarcely sixty men, and commanded by a captain. In fact, the bulk of what was then called the grand army, consisted of the Pennsylvania militia and volunteers, citizen soldiers who had left their comfortable homes at the call of their country, and were enduring the rigors of a winter cam- paign. On the morning of the battle of Princeton, they had been eighteen hours under arms, and harassed by a long night's march. Was it then to be wondered at that they should have given way before the veteran bayonets of their fresh and well-appointed foe 1 "The heroic devotion of Washington was not wanting in the e.xigencies of this memorable day. He was aware that his hour was come to redeem the pledge he had laid on the altar of his country when first he took up arms in her cause : to win her liberties or perish in the attempt. Defeat at Princeton would have amounted to the annihila- tion of America's last hope ; for, independent of the enemy's forces in front, Cornwallis, with the flower of the British army eia;ht thousand strong, was already panting close on the rear. It was, indeed, the very crisis of the struggle. In the hurried and imposing events of little more than one short week, liberty endured her greate.st agony. What, then, is due to the fame and memories of that sacred band who, with the master of liberty at their head, breasted the storm at this fearful crisis of their country's destiny 1 "The heroic devotion of Washington on the field of Princeton is matter of history. We have often enjoyed a touching reminiscence of that ever-memorable event from the late Colonel Fitz- gerald, who was aid to the chief, and who never related the story of his General's danger, and almost miraculous preservation, without adding to his tale the homage of a tear. "The aid-de-camp had been ordered to bring up the troops from the rear of the column, when the band under General Mercer became engaged. Upon returning to the spot where he had left the commander-in-chief, he was no longer there, and, upon looking around, the aid discovered him en- deavoring to rally the line which had been thrown into disorder by a rapid onset of the foe. Wash- ington, after several ineffectual efforts to restore the fortunes of the fight, is seen to rein up his horse, with his head to the enemy, and, in that position, to become immovable. It was a last appeal to his soldiers, and seemed to say. Will you give up your General to the foel Such an appeal was not made in vain. The discomfited Americans rally on the instant, and form into line; the enemy halt, and dress their line; the American chief is between the adverse posts, as though he had been placed there, a target for both. The arms of both lines are levelled. Can escape from death be possible 1 Fitzgerald, hor- ror-struck at the danger of his beloved command- er, dropped the reins upon his horse's neck, and drew his hat over his face, that he might not see him die. A roar of musketry succeeds, and then a shout. It was the shout of victory. The aid- de-camp ventures to raise his eyes, and oh, glori- ous sight, the enemy are broken and flying, while dimly amid the glimpses of the smoke is seen the chief, ' alive, unharmed, and without a wound,' waving his hat, and cheering: his com- rades to the pursuit. "Colonel Fitzgerald, celebrated as one of the finest horsemen in the American army, now dash- ed his rowels in his charger's flank, and, heedless of tiie dead and dying in his way, flew to the side of his chief, exclaiming, 'Thank God! your excellency is safe,' while the favorite aid, a gallant and warm-hearted son of Erin, a man of thews and sinews, and 'albeit unused to the melting mood,' gave loose to his feelings, and wept like a child for joy. "Washington, ever calm amid gcenes of the greatest excitement, affectionately grasped the hand of his aid and friend, and then ordered, ' Away, my dear Colonel, and bring up the troops, the day is our own ! ' " OLDEN TIME IN MASSACHUSETTS. In 1627, there were but thirty ploughs in all Mas- sachusetts, and the use of these agricultural imple- ments was not familiar to all the planters. From the annals of Salem, it appears in that year, it was agreed by the town to grant Richard Hutchinson twenty acres of land, in addition to his share, on condition " he set up ploughing." 1630. A sumptuary act of the general court pro- hibiting short sleeves, and required the garments to be lengthened so as to cover the arms to the wrists, and required reformation " in immoderate great breeches, knots of riband, broad shoulder-bands and taylee ; silk /ases, double cuffs and rufl's." 1639. "For preventing miscarriage of letters, it is ordered that notice be given that Richard Fair- bank, his house in Boston, is the place appointed for all letters, which are brought from beyond the sea, or are to be sent thither, or to be brought unto him, and he is allowed for every such letter id., and must answer all miscarriages through his own neg- lect in his kind, provided that no man shall be obliged to bring his letter thither, unless he pleases." 1647. "The court order, that if any young ihar attempt to address a young woman without the con- sent of her parents, or in case of their absence, of the county court, he shall be fined four pounds for the first offence, ten pounds for the second, and be imprisoned for the third." 1649. Matthew Stanley was tried for drawing in the affections of John Tarbox's daughter without the consent of her parents, convicted and fined fifteen pounds ; fees two shillings and six pence. Three married women were fined five shillings each for scolding. 1653. Jonas Fairbanks was tried feated on the two succeeding nights. On the night of the 4th, immediately after the firing began, a considerable detachment, under the command of General Thomas, passing iVom Roxbnry, took silent possession of Dorchester heights. The ground was almost impenetrably hard, but the night was mild, and by labouring with great diligence, their works ■were so far advanced by morning, as to cover them, in a great measure, from the shot of the enemy. When the British, after daybreak, discovered these works, which were magnified to their view by a hazy atmosphere, nothing could exceed their aston- ishment. No alternative now remained but to aban- don the town, or to dislodge the provincials. Gen- eral Howe, with his usual spirit, chose the latter part of the alternative, in which design he was foiled by a tremendous storm. A council of war was call- ed next morning, and it was agreed to evacuate the town as soon as possible. A fortnight elapsed before this measure was effected. Meanwhile, the Ameri- cans strengthened and extended their works ; on the morning of the 17lh of March, the British discovered a breastwork that had been thrown up in the night, at Nooks Hill, Dorchester, which perfectly com- manded Boston Neck and the south part of the town. Delay was no longer safe : by four o'clock in the morning, the king's troops began to embark, and before ten, all of them were under full sail ; leaving behind them stores to the value of thirty thousand pounds. As the rear embarked. General Washing- ton marched triumphantly into Boston where he was joyfully received as a deliverer." It is now many years since we rambled over the grounds which were the seat of the scenes described. Time, and the levelling hand of modern improvement, have done much to erase all marks of the struggle. A few years ago, Governour Hutchinson's house was still standing, and on Boston common, you might perceive the spot where the troops of Earl Percy were en- camped. Brattlestreet church presents in its front an iron monument of the bombardment of 1776, and the entrenchments on Dorchester heights are tolera- bly preserved. In ranging also over the diversified country around Boston, you frequently meet with gentle elevations and slight depressions, which mark the lines of the American encampment. But most of the memorials, like most of the actors in those scenes, have passed away. THE INDEPENDENCE BELL. The bell hanging in the steeple of the old Stam House, in Chestnut street, in this city, which is rung on special occasions, is the one that assembled the people together to hear the Declaration of Indepen- dence read, fifiv-nine }'ears ago. The metal of which this bell is composed, was imported in the year 1752, in the shape of another bell, which ha\- ing become injured bv an accident at the trial ring- ing, after its arrival, it became necessary to have it recast. Whether the remarkable inscription upon it was or was not upon the original bell, we have no means of ascertaining, but Watson, in his annals of Philadelphia, expresses the opinion that we are indebted for it to Isaac Norris, Esq., at that time speaker of the colonial assembly, under whose di- rection the bell was recast. This supposition is possibly correct, for it is hardly probable that the as- sembly which ordered the bell I'rom England, would have encountered the risk of being suspected of the rebellious intentions which might have been infer- red from its terms. The inscription was copied from the twenty-fifth chapter of the book of Leviticus, verse ten, in these words : " Proclaim liberty through- out all the land, unto all the inhabitant s thereoj .^ This pruphctick command was literally obeyed by the bell on ihe 4th of July, 1776, and as it was the first bell in the United States that spoke treason, it was thought prudent to remove it from Philadel- phia for safe keeping in 1777, when the British v.'ere about to visit Philadelphia, although its weight was two thousand and eighty pounds. phii. Gazette. NEW ENGLAND. The hills of New England — How proudly they rise, In the wildiiess of grandeur To blend with the skies ! With Iheir far azure outline, And tall ancient trees! New Enaland, mv country, I love thee for these I The vales of New England That cradle her streams ; That smile in their greenness Like land in our dreams ; All sunny with pleasure, Embosoni'd in ease — New England, mv country, I love thee for these ! The woods of New England, Still verdant and high, Though rock'd by the tempes'» Of ages gone by ; Romance dims their arches, And speaks in the breeze — New England, my country, I love thee for these ! The streams of New England, That roar as they go ; Or seem in their stillness But dreaming to flow. O bright glides the sunbeam Their march to the seas — New England, my country, I love thee for these ! God shield thee. New England, Dear land of my birth! And thy children that wander Afar o'er the earth ; Thuu'rt mv country, wherever Jly lot shall be cast — Take tliou to thy bosom My ashes at last 1 35 Iron Mountain in Missouri. — Mr. Featlierstonhausiii. the geologist appciinted by government, reports tho discovery of a vein of iron on the United Stales' lands iu Missouri, about one hundred and fifty feet above the stn-face of the adjacent plain. At the sur- face, it had the appearance of being roughly paved with black pebbles of iron, from one to twenty pounds' weight ; beneath the surface it appeared to be a solid mass. He remarks: — "Unusual as is the magnitude of the si:perficial cubick contents of this vein, yet it must be insignitirant to the subterra- neous quantity. Tliis extraordinary plienomenon rilled me with admiration. Here was a single locality of iron offering all the resources of Sweden, and of which it was impossible to estimate ihe value by any other terms than those ad equate to all a nation's wan's " WASHINGTON'S HEADaUAJlTERS, NEWBITRGH, N. Y. The old Hasbrook-liouse, as it is called, situated on the west bank of the Hudson, a little south of the village of Newburgh, is one of the most interesting relicks of the first and heroick age of our republick ; for at several periods of the war of the revolution, and especially from the autumn of 1782 tmtil the troops were finally disbanded, it w'as occupied by General Washington, us the headquarters of the American army. The views from the house and grounds, as well as the whole neighliourhood around it, are rich alike in natural beauty and historical remembrances. You look from the old house upon the broad bay into which the Hudson expands itself, just before enter- ing the deep, rocky bed, through which it flows to- wards the ocean between the lofty mountain-banks of the Highlands. On the opposite shore, is seen the ridge of mountains, upon the bald rocky summits of which, during the war of 1776, the beacon-fires so often blazed to alarm the country at the incursions of the enemy from the south, or else to communicate signals between the frontier posts in Westchester, along the line of the American position at Ver- planck's Point, West Point, and the barracks and encampments on the plains of Fishkill. As these mountains recede eastward from the river, you see the romantick stream of INIattavoan winding wildly along their base, through glens and over falls, until, at last, as if fatigued with its wanton rambles, it mingles quietly and placidly with the Hudson. On this side of it are stretched the rich plains of Dutchess county, with their woody and picturesque shores. All along these plains and shores are to be found other memorials of the revolution ; for tliere were the storehouses, barracks, and hospitals of our army, and there, for many months, were the head- quarters of the father of American tacticks, the dis- ciplinarian Steuben. To the south, you look down upon the opening of the Highlands and the rock of PollopeH's Island, once a military prison, and thence follow, with your eye, the Great River of the Moun- tains* till it turns suddenly and disappears around the rocky promontory of West Point ; a spot consecrated by the most exciting recollections of our history, by the story of Arnold's guilt and Andre's hapless fate, and the incorruptible virtue of our yeomanry ; by the memory of the virtues of Kosciusko and Lafayette ; of the wisdom and valour of our own chiefs and sages. The Hasbrook-house itself, is a solid, irregular building of rough stone, erected about a century ago. The excellent landscape, painted by Weir, and en- graved with equal spirit and fidelity by Smillie, will give the reader a better idea of its appearance and character than words can convey. The intcriour re- mains very nearly as Washington left it. The lar- gest room is in the centre of the house, about twenty- four feet square, but so disproportionately low, as to appear very much larger. It served the general during his residence there, in the daytime, for his hall of reception and his dining-room, where he re- ' The Indian name of the Hudson. 36 gularly kept up a liberal, though plain hospitality. At night It was used as a bedroom lor his aiJde- camps and occasional military visuers and guests. It was long memorable among the veterans who had seen the duet' there, for its huge wood hre, built against the. wall, in, or rather inider a wide chimney, the rireplace of which was quite open at both sides. It was still more remarkable fortlie whimsical pecu- liarity of having seven doors, and but one window. The uuceiled roof of tlus room, with its massive painted beams, corresponds to the simplicity of the rest of the building, as well as shows the indiller- ence of our ancestors to the free communication of noise and cold air, which their wiser or more fasti- dious descendants take so much pains to avoid. On the northeast corner of the house, communicating with the large centre-room, is a small chamber, which the general used as a study, or private office. Those who have had tlie good Ibrtune to enjoy the acquaintance of officers of the northern division of our old army, have heard many a revolutionary anec- dote, the scene of which was laid in the old square room at Newburgh, " with its seven doors and one window." In it were every day served up, to as many guests as the table and chairs could accommo- date, a dinner and a supper, as plentiful as the country could supply, and as good as they could be made by the continental cooks, whose deticiency in culinary skill drew forth in one of his private letters (since printed) the only piece of literary pleasantr)-, it is believed, iu which the great man was ever tempted to indulge. But then, as we have heard old soldiers affirm with great emphasis, there was always plenty of good wine. French wines for our French allies, and those who had acquired or- who affected their tastes, and sound Madeira for the Americans of the old school, circulated briskly, and were taken in little silver mugs or goblets, made in France for the general's camp equipage. They were accompa- nied by the famous apples of the Hudson, the Spitz- enbergh and other varieties, and invariably by heap- ed plates of hickory nuts, the amazing consumption of which, by the general and his staff, w as the theme of boundless adniration to the Marquis de Chastel- leux and other Fiench officers. The jest, the argu- "inent, the song, and the story, circulated as briskly as the wine ; while the chief, at the head of his table, sat long, listened to all, or appeared to listen, smiled at and enjoyed all, but all gravely, without partaking much in the conversation or at all contri- buting to the laugh, either by swelling its chorus or furnishing the occasion ; for he was neither a joker nor a story-teller. He had no talent, and he knew he had none, for humour, repartee, or amusing anec- dote ; and if he had possessed it, he was too wise to indulge in it in the position in which he was placed. One evidence, among many others, of the impres- sion which Washington's presence in this scene had made, and the dignity and permanence it could lend to every idea or recollection, however trivial other- wise, with which it had been accidentally associated, was given some few years ago at Paris. The American minister (we forget whether it was Mr. Crawford, Mr. Brown, or one of their succes- sors), and several of his countrymen, together with General Lafayette, were invited to an entertainment at the house of a distinguished and patriotick French- man, who had served his country in his youth in the United States, during the war of our independence. At the supper hour the company were shown into a room fitted up for the occasion, which contrasted quite oddly with the Parisian elegance of the other apartments, where they had spent their evening A low, boarded, painted ceiling, with large beams, a single, small, uncurtained window, with numerous small doors, as well as the general style of the whole, gave at first the idea of the liitchen, or largest room of a Dutch or Belgian farmhouse. On a long rough table was a repast, just as little in keeping with the refined kitchen of Paris, as the room was with its architecture. It consisted of large dishes of meat, uncouth-looking pastry, and wine in decanters and bottles, accompanied bv glasses and silver mugs, such as indicated other habits and tastes than those of modern Paris. " L)o you know where we now are ?" said the host to General Lafayette and his companions. They paused for a few moments, in suspense. They had seen something like this be- ibre, but when and where 1 " Ah, the seven doors and one window," said Lafayette, " and the silver camp-goblets, such as our marshals of France used in my youth ! We are at Washington's Head- quarters on the Hudson, fifty years ago !" We re- late the story as we have heard it told bv the late Colonel Fish, and, if we mistake not, the host wa.'* the excellent M. Marbois. There is another anecdote of a higher and more moral interest, the scene of which was also laid in this house. We remember to have heard it told by the late Colonel Willet, our " bravest of the brave," then past his eightieth year, with a feeling that warmed the coldest of his hearers, and made the tears gush into the ej-es of his younger listeners. A British officer had been brought in from the ri-ver, a prisoner, and wounded. Some accidental circumstances had attracted to him General Wash- ington's special notice, who had him placed under the best medical and surgical care the army coidd afford, and ordered him to be lodged at his own quarters. There, according to custom, a large party of officers had assembled in the evening, to sup with the commander-in-chief. When the meats and cloth were removed, the unfiiling nuts appeared, and the wine, a luxury seldom seen by American subalterns, except at " his excellency's" table, began to circulate. The general rose much before his usual hour, but, putting one of his aiddecamps in his place, request- ed his friends to remain, adding, in a gentle tone, " I have oidy to ask you to remember, in your sociality, that there is a wounded officer in the very next room." This injimction had its effect for a short time, but, as the wine and punch passed round, the soldier's jest and mirth gradually broke forth, conversation warmed into argument, and, by-and-by, came a song. In the midst of all this, a side-door opened, and some one entered in silence and on tiptoe. It was the general. Without a word to any of the company, he passed silently along the table, with almost noiseless tread, to the opposite door, which he opened and closed after hiin as gently and cautiously as a nurse in the sick room of a tender and beloved patient. The song, the story, the merriment, died away at once. All were hushed. All felt the rebuke, and dropped off quietly, one by one, to their chambers or tents 37 But the Newburgh Headquarters are also memor- able as the scene of afar more important transaction. In the autumn of 1783, the war had closed with glory. The national independence had been won. The army, which had fought the battles, which had gone through the hardships and privations of that long, and doubtful, and bloody war without a murmur, were encamped on the banks of the Hudson, unpaid, almost unclothed, individually loaded with private debt, awaiting to be disbanded, and to return to the pursuits of civil life, without the prospect of any set- tlement of their long arrears of pay, and without the means of temporary support, until other prospects might open upon them m their new avocations. It was under these circumstances, while Congress, from the impotence of our frame of government under the old confederation, and the extreme poverty of the country, found themselves utterly unable to advance even a single month's pay, and, as if loath to meet the question, seemed but to delay and pro- crastinate any decision upon it ; the impatient and suffering soldiery, losing, as their military excite- ment died away with its cause, all feeling of loyalty towards their civil rulers, began to regard them as cold-hearted and ungrateful masters, who sought to avoid the scanty and stipulated payment of those services, the abundant i'ruits of which they had al- ready roa])ed. Then it was that the celebrated anonymous Newburgh letters were circulated through the camp, toucliing, with powerfid effect, upon every topick that could rouse the feelings of men suffering under the sense of wrong, and sensitive to every stain upon their honour. The glowing language of this address painted their country as trampling upon their rights, disdaining their cries, and insulting their distress. It spoke of farther acquiescence and sub- mission to such injury and contumely, as exposing the high-spirited soldier to " the jest of tories and the scorn of whigs ; the ridicule, and, what is worse, the pity of the world." Finally, the writer called upon his fellow-soldiers, never to sheath their swords until they had obtained full and ample justice, and pointed distinctly to their " illustrious leader," as the chief under whose auspices and directions they could most boldly claim, and most successfully compel, the unwilling justice of their country. The power of this appeal did not consist merely in its animated and polished eloquence. It was far more powerful, and, therefore, more dangerous, be- cause it came warm from the heart, and did but give bold utterance to the thoughts over which thousands had long brooded in silence. Precisely that state of feeling pervaded the whole army, that discontent to- wards their civil rulers, verging every hour more and more towards indignation and hatred, that despair of justice from any other means or quarter than them- selves and their own good swords, that rallying of all their hopes and affections to their comrades in arms and their long-tried chief, such as in other times and countries, have again and again enthroned the successful military leader upon the ruins of the republick he had gloriously served. The disinterested patriotism of Washington re- jected the lure to his ambition ; his firm and mild prudence repressed the discontents, and preserved the honour of the army, as well as the peace, and, probably, the future liberties of his country. It was the triumph of patriotick wisdom over the sense of injury, over misapplied genius and eloquence, over chivalrous, but ill-directed feeling'. The opinions and the arguments of Washington, expressed in his orders, and in the address delivered by him to his officers, calmed the minds of the army, and brought them, at once, to a sense of submissive diUy ; not solely from the weight of moral truth and noble sen- timent, great as that was, but because they came from a person whom the army had long been ac- customed to love, to revere, and to obey ; the purity of whose views, the soundness of whose judgment, and the sincerity of whose friendship, no man could dream of questioning. Shortly after, the army disbanded itself. The veterans laid down their swords in peace, trusting to the faith and gratitude of their country, leaving the honour of the " Continental Army" unstained, and the holy cause of liberty unsullied by any one act ot rebellious, or ambitious, or selfish insubordination. They fullilled the prophetick language of their chief, when, in the closing words of his address on this memorable occasion, he expressed his sure confi- dence, that their patient virtue, rising superiour to the pressure of the most complicated sufferings, would enable " posterity to say, when speaking of the glori- ous example they had exhibited to mankind ; had this day been wanting, the world had never seen the last stage of perfection to which human nature is capable of attaining." Why should we dilate here on the particulars of this transaction ? They form the brightest page in our history, the noblest theme of our orators ; but no eloquence can increase the interest and dignity of the narrative, as told in the plain language of Mar- shall, and in the orders and address of Washington himself. Let it suffice for us to fulfil faithfully the humbler task of the local antiquary, which we have here imdertaken to perform. When any of our readers visit this scene, they will feel grateful to us for informing them, that it was in the little north- eastern room of the " old stone house" at Newburgh, that Washington meditated on this momentous ques- tion, and prepared the general orders to the army, and the address, which he read, with such happy effect, to the military convention that assembled, at his invitation, on the fifteenth of October, 1783, at a large barrack or storehouse, then called " the new building," in the immediate neighbourhood. It was but a few days after this, that, upon the lawn before the house, Washington finally parted with that portion of his army which did not accom- pany him to take possession of New York. He parted with his faithful comrades with a deep emo- tion, that contrasted strongly with the cold and calm serenity of manner which had distinguished him throughout the whole seven years of the war. That parting hour has often suggested itself to the writer, as affording one of the most splendid and abundant subjects that American history can furnish to the painter. It combines the richest materials of land- scape, portrait, history, and invention, any of which might predominate, or all be united, as the peculiar talent or taste of the artist might dictate. It offers to the painter, magnificent and varied scenery, ship- ping, and river craft of the old times, with their white sails and picturesque outlines, arms, military costume, fine horses, beautiful Avomen and children with every expression of conjugal and filial joy 38 mixed with the soldiers in groups such as art might dispose and contrast at its pleasure, numerous most imeresting historical personages, and, above the whole, the lofty person and majestick presence of the cluef liiinself, not the grave and venerable man we are accustomed to see in the (inc portraits of Stuart, but still in the pride of manly and military grace and beauty, and melted into tenderness as he parts from the tried and loved companions of seven years of danger, hardship, and toil. Ornaments and pride of American art ; Allston, Trumbull, Vanderlyn, Dunlap, Cole, Sully, Morse, Inman, Weir ; we commend this subject to your genius, to your patriotism ! It is a natural and good tendency of the human mind, and one leading to excellent ends, that prompts the man of taste or the scholar to "Worship the turf where Virsil trod. And lliink it like no other sod, And guard eai:h leaf I'roiii Shakspcare's tree, Witli Druid-iike idolatry." But how much more elevated the feeling, how much worthier in the motive, and salutary in the influence, are the emotions that throb in the patriot's breast as he treads upon a soil, dignified by recollec- tions of wisdom, of courage, of publick virtue, such as those we have now imperfectly described ! If, therefore, to use the often-quoted, and deservedly often-quoted language of Johnson, " that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of lona :" what shall we say of the American who feels no glow of patriotism, who kindles not into warmer love for his country, and her glorious institutions, who rises into no grand and fervent aspiration for the virtue and the happiness of this people, when he enters the humble, but venerable walls, of the headquarters AT Newburgh. — Vcrplanck. — N. Y. Mirror. THE ANCESTORS OF WASHINGTON. " We have been favored, within the last few days, with a highly interesting account of a mon- ument in England, erected to the memory of some of the ancestors of our beloved Washington. The gentleman to whom we are indebted for the account, is Mr. Samuel Fullaway, of this city — but who, being a native of England, returned to that country on a visit to his parents, who reside at Malmesbury, in Wiltshire. The monument in question is in Gardson Church, in the same county. " The village of Gardson is about two miles from Malmesbury, and the church is an ancient Gothic edifice, situate in the bosom of a rich countrj-, and surrounded with venerable trees. The coun- try people have for many years been in the habit of conducting strangers to the church, for the purpose of pointing out the venerable memorial of the Washington Family — in former ages the Lords of the Manor of Gardson, and the residents of the Court-house, a building of the olden time- gray with the lapse of centuries. " The monument was once a superb specimen of the " mural" style — ^and even now exhibits relics of richness and curious workmanship. It is to be seen in the chancel, on the left side of the altar, and is richly carved out of the stone of that part of the country. It is surmounted with the fami- ly coat-of arms, which form a rich emblazonment of heraldry; and, although two hundred years have rolled away since it was erected, they are still burnished with gilding. ''The following are the inscriptions: — ' TO VE MEMORY OF SIR LAWRENCE WASHINGTON, Nite, Lately Chief Register OF YE CHAUNCERYE, Of Renowns, Piety and Charitye. An exeniplyar)'e and Loving Husband, a Tender Father, A Bountefull Master, A Constante Relie- ver of ye Poore ; And to Thoas of His Parish, A Perpetuall Benefactor ; Whom it Pleased GOD TO TAKE INTO IS PEACE, From the Furye of the Inzuing Warrs Born Mav XIV. He Was Heare Interred, May XXIV., An. Dni. 1643. ^TAT. SUAiE, 64.' 'Heare Also Lveth DAME ANNE, Is Wife, who Deceased January Xlllth ; And Who Was Berved XVIth, Anno Dili. 1645.' ' Hie Pafrios cineres, enravH filius tirna, Condere qui Tumulo, nvnc jacet itle pius.'' 'The pyous Son His Parents here interred. Who hath his share iu time, for them prepared.' " The old Manor-house of Gardson is now occu- pied by a respectable, and, indeed, opulent far- mer, named Woody — two of whose sons lately came over to this country in the ship Philadelphia, and are gone back into the state of Ohio. iMr Woody rents his farm and house of Lord Andover. This ancient seat of the Washington family is handsome, very old-fashioned, and built of stone, with immense solidity and strength. The timber about it is chiefly British oak, and in several of the rooms, particularly in a large one, which was the old hall or banqueting-room — there are rich remains of gilding, carved work in cornices, ceil- ings and panels, polished floors and wainscoating — with shields containing the same coat-of-arms as on the mural monument in the church, carved over the high, venerable, and architectural man- tel-pieces. Beneath the house are extensive cel- lars, which, with the banqueting-room, seem to indicate the genuine hospitality and princely style of living peculiar to a *Ftne old English gentleman, All of the olden lime.' And, indeed, according to the traditions ana chronicles of the country, such was the general character of the heads of the Washington family 39 Soon after the civil war the family left their an- cient seat, and removed to another part of the kinj^dom — -bnt nn old man now living in the vil- lage, named Reeves, who is ninety years of age, states that he remembers one of the Washingtons living in that part of the conntry when he was a boy ; and that his great-grandfather remembered the last 'Squire Washington, living at the Alanor- house. The walls of the honse are live feet thick, and the entire residence is surrounded by a beau- tiful garden and orchards. In the old parish ar- chives the Washington family are constantly referred to as the benefactors of the parish ; and from the very earliest recorded times they seem to have been the lords of the soil at Gardson, down to the period of their leaving — when the Manor-house fell into the hands of a family named Dubbs. "From the church and Manor or Court-house of Gardson, there are the remains of an ancient paved causeway, extending for about two miles to the far-famed abbey and cloisters of Malmes- bury, founded and endowed by King Athelstan — not only celebrated for its power and splendor in Catholic days, but also as being the birthplace and residence of ' William of ]\Ialmesbury' — one of the earliest of British historians." — Phila.Enq. INDIAN PARADISE. The groat doctrine of a life beyond the grave was, among all the tribes of America, most deep- ly cherished and most sincerely believed. They had even formed a distinct idea of the region whither they hoped to be transported, and of the new and happier mode of e.xistence, free from those wars, tortures, and cruelties, which throw- so dark a shade over their lot upon earth. Yet their conceptions on this subject were by no means cither exalted or spiritualized. They ex- pected simply a prolongation of their present life and enjoyments, under more favorable circum- stances, and with the same objects furnished in greater choice and abundance. This supposed assurance of future life, so conformable to their gross habits and conceptions, was found by the missionaries a serious obstacle, when they at- tempted to allure them by the hope of a destiny, purer and higher indeed, but less accordant with their untutored conceptions. Upon being told that in the promised world they would neither hunt, eat, drink, nor marry a wife ; many of them declared that, far from en- deavoring to reach such an abode, they would consider their arrival there as the greatest ca- lamity. Mention is made of a Huron girl whom one of the christian ministers was endeavoring to instruct and whose first question was, what she would find to eat '. The answer being " Nothing," she then asked what she would see ; and being in- formed that she would see the Maker of heaven and earth, she expressed herself much at a loss what she could have to say to him. Many not only rejected this destiny for themselves, but were indignant at the efforts thus made to decoy their children into so dreary and comfortless a region. THE OLDEN TIMES. We have before us, (a present from a lady,) a copy of the ' Connecticut Courant,' published then (as now) in Hartford, bearing date of January 11, 177-i. To show the feelings of the people and the spirit of the public journals at that day, we make the following extract, which it copied from the Boston Gazette : — [^Fum. Mag. " To ALL Nations under HEAVEN. "Know ye, That the people of the American world are millions strong — countless legions compose their united army of freemen — whose intrepid souls sparkle with liberty, and their hearts are flinted with courage to effect what their wisdom dictates to be done. America now stands with the scale of Justice in one hand, and the sword of Vengeance in the other ; and what- ever nation or people who dares to lift a hostile hand against her, to invade her serene regions, or sully her liberty, shall Let the Britons fear to do any more so wickedly as they have done, for the herculean arm of this new world is lifted up — and wo be to them on wiiom it falls! At the beat of the drum she can call five hundred thousand of her sons to arms, before whose blazing shields none can stand. There- fore, ye that are wise, make peace with her, take shelter under her wings, that ye may shine by the reflection of her glory. "May the New Year shine propitious on the New World, and Virtue and Liberty reign here without a foe, until rolling years shall measure time no more." MINERAL WEALTH OF AFRICA. M. Russager writes from Fasoglo, on the Blue River, February 8th, 1838 :— " We found rivers the alluvial soil of which is so rich in gold that the extracting of it is very feasible ; but the rich- est spot of the whole became known to us quite at the end of our journey, in Fasoglo itself. Be- tween the mountain ranges of Fallow and Fason- goru lies the valley of the river Adi. The whole valley is covered in an area of between two and three geographical square miles, with quartz mountains, which contain quartzose, iron ore and pure gold. We found this metal in considerable quantities in the solid rock and in the boulders of the river. I bring, among other specimens, a piece of quartz, with pure gold in which there is a grain of gold of two carats. The alluvial soil between these quartz mountains in the whole extent of the valley is, in fact, prodigiously rich in gold, and there are on the Adi many gold-wash- ings of the negroes, of which nobody lias had till now, any information, so secretly did they con- trive to keep the affair. A thousand men might be set to work here at once ; and, with an ex- tremely trifling charge, which would involve no expense, in the mode hitherto observed by the ne- groes themselves, one may obtain every day, gold to the amount of three or four dollars. 40 THE TREACHERY OF ARNOLD The followino: facts relative to the treasonable acts of Benedict Arnold, and the providential frustration of his nefarious designs, we copy from a speech, delivered by Robert Dale Owen, at New Harmony, Indiana, February the twenty- second, 1840 : — The public events connected with Benedict Arnold's treachery are familiar to every one ; but the private details of that story are, in the various histories of the period, either incorrectly given or essentially omitted. The surrender of West Point was but a small portion of Arnold's plan. He had projected the decoying- thither, and the betrayal into Sir Henry Clinton's hands, of Gen- eral Washington himself, of Lafayette and of the principal staff officers. Had this plan succeeded, how different might have been the story History would have to tell! A trifling circumstance caused its failure. Arnold had invited Washington (then, if I recol- lect aright, on his return from Hartford,) to breakfast with him at West Point, on the very morning the plot was discovered ; and Washing- ton had promised to accept the invitation. He was prevented from doing so, by an urgent request made to him by an old officer, near to whose station he passed, that he would remain the night with him, and next morning inspect some works in the neighborhood. Washington accordingly despatched an aid from his suite to make his ex- cuses to Arnold. The messenger rode all night, and arrived next morning at West Point. Arnold invited him to breakfast. While sitting at table, a letter was brought to Arnold, from the post of the officer commanding the scouting parties on the American lines. As his eye fell on the super- scription, the cup which he had raised to his lips dropped from his hands, he seized the letter, rush- ed from the room, locked himself in his bed-cham- ber ; and a few minutes afterward, was on his way to an English sloop of war, then lying in the North river. In the meantime, while Washington and his staff, including Lafayette, were seated at table at the quarters of the' officer whose invitation had delayed the visit to West Point, a despatch was brought to the American General, which he im- mediately opened, read and laid down without comment. No alteration was visible in his coun- tenance, but he remained perfectly silent. Con- versation dropped among his suite ; and, after some minutes, the General beckoned to Lafayette to follow him, retired to an inner apartment, turned to Lafayette without uttering a sylhible, placed the fatal despatch in his hands, and then giving way to an ungovernable burst of feeling — fell on his friend's neck and sobbed aloud. The effect pro- duced on the young French Marquis, accustom- ed to regard his General, (cold and dignified in his usual manner almost to extreme,) as devoid of the usual weakness of humanity, may be imagin- ed. " I believe," said Lafayette to me — for it was from that venerable patriot's own lips that I obtained the narrative I now relati' — "I believe tiiis was the only occasion, throughout that long and sometimes hopeless struggle, that Washing- ton ever gave way, even for a moment, under a reverse of fortune ; and perhaps I was the only human being who ever witnessed in him an exhi- bition of feeling so foreign to his temperament. As it was, he recovered himself, before I had peru- sed the communication that gave rise to his emo- tion ; and when we returned to his staff, not a trace remained on his countenance either of grief or despondency." WASHINGTON IN THE FIELD OF VICTORY AND CHAMBER OF DEATH. From Custis's Recollections of Washington, we copy the following, relating to the siege of York- town, and a domestic scene : — The weather during the siege of Yorktown was propitious in the extreme, being, with the excep- tion of the squall on the night of the sixteenth, the fine autumnal weather of the south, common- ly called the Indian summer, which greatly facili- tated the military operations. Washington's headquarters were under canvass the whole time. The situation of Yorktown, after the surrender, was pestilential. Numbers of wretched negroes who had either been taken from the plantations, or had of themselves followed the fortunes of the British army, had died of the small-pox, which, with the camp-fever, was raging in the place, and remained unburied in the streets. When all hope of escape was given up, the horses of the British Legion were led to the margin of the river, shot, and then thrown into the stream ; the carcasses, floating with the tide, lodged on the adjacent shores and flats, producing an eflluvia that afl'ect- ed the atmosphere for miles around. Indeed, it was many months before Yorktown and its envi- rons became sufficiently purified to be habitable with any degree of comfort. A domestic affliction threw a shade over Washington's happiness, while his camp still rung with shouts of triumph for the surrender of Yorktown. His step-son, to whom he liad been a parent and a protector, and to whom he was fondly attached, who had accompanied him to the camp at Cambridge, and was among the first of his aids in the dawn of the Revolution, sick- ened while on duty as extra aid to the commander- in-chief, in the trendies before Yorktown. Aware that his disease, (the camp-fever) would be mortal, the sufferer had yet one last lingering wish to be gratified, and he would die content. It was to behold the surrender of the sword of Cornwallis He was supported to the ground, and witnessed the admired spectacle, and was then removed to Eltham, a distance of thirty miles from camp. An express from Dr. Craik announced that there was no longer hope, when Washington, at- tended by a single officer nnd a groom left the 41 headquarters at midnight, and rode with all speed for Eltham. The anxious watchers by the couch of the dying were, in the gray of twilight, aroused by a trampling of horse, and looking out, discovered the commander-in-chief alighting from a jaded charger in the court-yard. He immediately summoned Dr. Craik, and to the eager inquiry : "Is there any hope V Craik mournfully shaking his head, the general retired to a room to indulge his grief, requesting to be left alone. In a little while the poor sufferer expired. Washington, tenderly embracing the bereaved wife and mother, observed to the weeping group around the re- mains of him he so dearly loved: "From this moment I adopt his two youngest children as my own." Absorbed in grief he then waved with his hand a melancholy adieu, and, fresh horses being ready, without rest or refreshment, he re- mounted and returned to the camp. For a great distance around Yorktown, the earth trembled under the cannonade, while many an anxious and midnight watcher ascended to the housetops to listen to the sound, and to look upon the horizon, lighted up by the blaze of the batteries, the explosions of the shells, and the flames from the burning vessels in the harbor. At length, on the morning of the seventeenth, the thundering ceased, hour after hour passed away, and the most attractive ear could not catch another sound. What had happened 1 Can he have escaped 1 To suppose he had fallen, was almost too much to hope for. And now an intense anxiety prevails ; every eye is turned toward the great southern road, and the express! the ex- press ! is upon each lip. Each hamlet and home- stead pours forth its inmates. Age is seen lean- ing on his staff, women with infants at the breast, children with wandering eyes, and tiny hands outstretched, all, all, with breathless hopes and fears, await the courier's coming. Ay, and the courier rode with a red spur that day ; but had he been mounted on the wings of the wind, he could scarcely have kept pace with the general anxiety. At lingth there is a cry — He comes ! he comes ! and merging from a cloud of dust a horseman is seen at headlong speed. He plies the lash and spur ; covered with foam, with throbbing flank, and nostril dilated to catch the breeze, the gen- erous horse devours the road, while ever and anon the rider waves his cap, and shouts to the eager groups that crowd his way, " Cornwallis is taken !" And now rose a joyous cry that made the very welkin tremble. The tories, amazed, confounded, shrunk away to their holes and hiding-places, while the patriotic whigs rushed into each other's arms, and wept for gladness. And oh ! in that day of general thanksgiving and praise, how many an aspiration ascended to the Most High, imploring blessing on him whom all Time will consecrate as the Father of his Country. The prediction of Cornwallis in the tent of Washington was verified. The sixteenth of October, 1781, was indeed the crowning glory of the war of the Revolution ; hostilities languished thereafter, while Independence and Empire dawn- b ed upon the destinies of America, from the sur- render of Yorktown. On laying the Comer Stone of the Monument to ike Mother of Washington, — Mns. Sigouknit. Long hast thou slept unnoted. Nature stole In her soft ministiy around thy bed, Spreading her vernal tissue, violet-gemmed, And pearled with dews. She bade bright Summer brmg Gifts of frankincense, with sweet song of birds, And Autumn cast his reaper's coronet Down at thy feet, and stormy Winter speak Sternly of man's neglect. But now we come To do thee homage, mother of our chief! Fit homage, such as honoureth him who pays. Methinks we see thee, as in olden time ; Simple in garb, majestic and serene, Unmoved by pomp or circumstance, in truth Inflexible, and with a Spartan zeal Repressing vice, and jnaking folly grave. Thou did'st not deem it woman's part to waste Life in inglorious sloth, to sport awhile Amidst the flowers, or on the summer wave. Then fleet, like the ephemeron, away. Building no temple in her children's hearts, Save to the vanity and pride of life Which she had worshipped. For the might that clothed The " Pater Patrise," for the glorious deeds That make Mount Vernon's tomb a Mecca shrine For all the earth, what thanks to thee are due, Who. 'midst his elements of being, wrought, We know not ; Heaven can tell. Rise, sculptured pile, And show a race unborn, who rests below. And say to mothers, what a holy charge Is theirs, with what a kingly power their love Might rule the fountains of the new-bom mind. Worn them to wake at early dawn, and sow Good seed, before the world hath sown her tares ; Nor in their toil decline, that angel-bands May put the sickle in and reap for God, And gather to his garner. Ye, who stand. With thrilling breast, to view her trophied praise. Who nobly reared Virginia's godlike chief; Ye, whose last thought upon your nightly couch, Whose first at waking, is your cradled son, What though no high ambition prompts to rear A second Washington ; or leave your name Wrought out in marble with a nation's tears Of deathless gratitude ; yet may you raise A monument above the stars — a soul Led by your teachings, and your prayers, to God. 42 THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON. Mount Vernon is situated on the western bank of ihe Potomack river, in Virginia, about fifteen miles below the city of Washington, and eight miles from Alexandria. It rises about two hundred feet above the surface of the river, and was designated Mount Vernon, in honour of Admiral Vernon, who conduct- ed an expedition against the Spaniards, in which Lawrence Washington served. Lawrence Wash- ington was the brother of the president, and the original proprietor of this delightful seat. Mount Vernon subsequently passed into the hands of the general, who resided there with his family when retired from the publick service. There his ashes now repose, together with those of his wife and several relatives of his family. " The mansion in which Washington resided till his death," says Reynolds, " is a plain edifice of wood, cut in imitation of freestone, two stories high, surmounted by a cupola, and ninety-six feet in length, with a portico in the rear, overlooking the river, ex- tending the whole length of the building. The cen- tral part of this edifice was erected by Lawrence Washington, who named it Mount Vernon ; the two wings were afterwards added by the general, who caused the ground to be planted and beautified in the most tasteful manner. The house fronts north- west, looking on a beautiful lawn of five or six acres, with a serpentine walk around it, fringed with shrub- bery and planted with poplars." The ancient family-vault, in which Washington's dust first reposed, was situated under the shade of a little grove of forest-trees, a short distance from the mansion-house, and near the brow of the precipitous bank of the river. Small and unadorned, this humble sepulchre stood in a most romantick spot, and could be distinctly seen by travellers, as they passed in boats and vessels up and down the river. Within two years, how- ever, the ashes of the father of his country have been removed from that place, now designated by a white picket fence, to one near the corner of a beautiful enclosure, where the river is concealed from view. This site was selected by him during life, for a tomb, and is about two hundred yards southvvest from the house, and about one hundred and fifty from the bank of the Potomack. " A more romantick and picturesque site for a tomb," says a Jate writer, " can scarcely be imagined. Between it and the river Potomack is a curtain of forest-trees, covering the steep declivity to the water's edge, breaking the glare of the prospect, and yet affording glimpses of the river, even when the foliage is thick- est. The tomb is surrounded by several large na- tive oaks, which are venerable by their years, and which annually strew the sepulchre with autiuunal leaves, furnishing the most appropriate drapery for such a place, and giving a still deeper impression to the memento mori. Interspersed among the rocks, and overhanging the tomb, is a copse of red-cedar ; but whether na'ive or transplanted, is not stated Its evergreen boughs present a fine contrast to the hoary and leafless branches of the oak ; and while the deciduous foliage of the latter indicates the decay of the body, the eternal verdure of the former, furnishes a beautiful emblem of the immortal spirit." When Lafayette was last in the United States, he visited the tomb of his ancient friend and compan- ion. That visit is thus louchingly described by M. Levasseur : — " As we approached, the door of the tomb was opened; Lafayette descended alone into the vault, and a few minutes after he reappeared with his eyes overflowing with tears. He took his son and myself by the hand, and led us into the tomb, where, by a sign, he indicated the cofiin of his pa- ternal friend, alongside of which was that of his companion in life, united for ever to him in the grave. We knelt reverently near his coffin, which we re- spectfully saluted with our lips ; rising, we threw ourselves into the arms of Lafayette, and mingled our tears with his." " Flow gently, Potomack ! thou washest away Tlie saiid'> where he trod, and the turf where ne lay. When youth brush'd his cheek with her wing; Breathe softly, ye wild winds, that circle around That dearest, and purest, and holiest ground, Ever press'd by the footprints of spring ! Each breeze be a sigh, and each dewdrop a tear, Each wave be a whispering monitor near. To remind the sad shore of his story; And darker, and softer, and sadder the gloom Of that evergreen mourner that bends o^r the tomb, Where Washington sleeps in his glory." — Bbaihabd. SPRING.— N. P. Willis. The Spring- is here — the delicate-footed May, With its slight finners full of leaves and flowers, And with it comes a thirst to be away. Wasting in wood-paths its voluptuous hours — A feeling that is like a sense of wiiigs, Restless to soar above these perishing things. We pass nut from the city's feverish hutn, To find refreshment in the silent woods ; And nature, that is beautiful and dumb, Like a cool sleep upon the pulses broods. Yet even there, a restless thought will steal. To teach the indolent heart it still musl/ec/. Strange, that the audible stillness of the noon. The waters tripping with their silver feet, The turning to the \i]r\\l of leaves in June, And the lii;ht whisper as llieir edges meet — Strange — that they fill not, with their tranquil tone One spirit, walking in their midst alone. There's no contentment in a world like this. Save in forgetting the immortal dream ; We may not gaze upon the stars of bliss. That through the eloud-rilts radiantly stream; Bird-like the prisoned soul «'«'// lift its eye And sing — till it is hooded from the bky. O g a o CO 3 c o o G H <; H F= Z O as 45 THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. The beautiful effusion which the reader will find below, is the production of the chaste and classic mind of the late venerable and distinguished Sena- tor from Rhode Island, Mr. Robbins, and was occa- sioned by the following circumstances : During the session of 1837-8, Mr. Webster entertained a large party of friends at dinner; among them the venera- ble Senator we have named. The evening passed off with much hilarity, enlivened with wit and senti- ment ; but, during the greater part of the time, Mr. Robbins maintained that grave but placid silence which was his habit. While thus apparently ab- stracted, some one suddenly called on him for a toast, which call was seconded by the company. He rose, and in his surprise, asked if they were serious in making such a demand of so old a man ; and being assured that they were, he said if they would suspend their hilarity for a few moments he would give them a toast and preface it with a few observations. Having thus secured a breathless stillness, he went on to remark that they were then on the verge of the 22d of February, the anniver- sary of the birth of the great patriot and statesman of our country, whom all delighted to remember and to honor, and he hoped he might be allowed the privilege of an aged man to recur for a few moments to past events connected with his character and history. He then proceeded, and delivered in the most happy and impressive manner, the beautiful speech which now graces our columns. The whole company were electrified by his patriotic enthusiasm ; and one of the guests, before they separated, begged that he would take the trouble to put on paper what he had so happily expressed, and furnish a copy for publication. M. R. obligingly complied with this request on the following day, but by some accident the manuscript got mislaid, and eluded all search for it until a few days ago, when it was unexpected- ly recovered, and is now presented to our readers : " On the near approach of that calendar-day which gave birth to Washington, I feel rekindling within me some of those emotions always connected with the recollection of that hallowed name. Permit me to indulge them, on this occasion, for a moment, in a few remarks, as preliminary to a sentiment which I shall beg leave to propose. I consider it as one of the consolations of my age that I am old enough and fortunate enough to have seen that wonderful man. This happiness is still common to so many yet among the living, that less is thought of it now than will be in after times ; but it is no less a happiness to me on that account. While a boy at school, I saw him for the first time ; it was when he was passing through New England to take the command-in-chief of the Ameri- can armies at Cambridge. Never shall I forget the impression his imposing presence then made upon my young imagination ; so superior did he seem to me to all that I had seen or imagined of the human form for striking effect. I remember with what de- light, in my after studies, I came to the line in Vir- gil that expressed all the enthusiasm of my own feel- ings, as inspired by that presence, and which I could not often enough repeat : " Credo equidem, nee vara fides, genas e«9e deorum." I saw him again at his interview with Rocham- beau, when they met to settle the plan of combined operations between the French fleet and the Ameri- can armies, against the British on the Chesapeake ; and then I saw the immense crowd drawn together from all the neighboring towns, to get, if possible, one look at the man who had throned himself in every heart. Not one of that immense crowd doubted the final triumph of his country in her ardu- ous conflict; for every one saw, or thought he saw, in Washington, her guardian angel, commissioned by Heaven to insure to her that triumph. Nil des- perandum was the motto with every one. " Nil dcsperandum, Teucro duce, auspice Teucro." In after life, when the judgment corrects the ex- travagance of early impressions, I saw him on several occasions, but saw nothing at either to admonish me of any extravagance in my early impressions. The impression was still the same ; I had the same over- powering sense of being in the presence of some superior being. It is indeed remarkable, and I believe unique in the history of men, that Washington made the same impression upon all minds, at all places, and at once. When his fame first broke upon the world, it spread at once over the whole world. — By the consent of mankind — by the universal sen- timent — he was placed at the head of the human species; above all envy, because above all emulation: for no one then pretended or has pretended to be — at least who has been allowed to be — the corival of Washington in fame. When the great Frederick of Prussia sent his portrait to Washington, with this inscription upon it, "From the oldest General in Europe to the greatest General in the world," he did but echo the sentiment of all the chivalry of Europe. Nor was the sentiment confined to Europe, nor to the bounds of civilization ; for the Arab of the Desert talked of Washington in his tent; his name wandered with the wandering Scythian, and was cherished by him as a household word in all his migrations. No country was so barbarous as to be a stranger to the name ; but every where, and by all men, that name was placed at the same point of elevation, and above compeer. As it was in the beginning, so it is now ; of the future we cannot speak with certainty. Some future age, in the endless revolutions of time, may produce another Washington ; but the greater pro- bability is that he is destined to remain forever, as he now is, the Phoenix of human kind. What a possession to his country is such a fame! such a " Clarum et venerabile noiuen " Gentibus ! " To all his countrymen it gives, and forever will give, a passport to respect wherever they go, to whatever part of the globe ; for his country is in every other identified with that fame. What, then, is incumbent upon us, his country- men ? Why, to be such a People as shall be wor- thy of such a fame-^a people of whom it shall be said, " No wonder such a people have produced such a man as Washington." I give you, therefore, this sentiment : The memory of Washington : May his country- men prove themselves a people worthy of his fame. DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, IN CONGRESS, AT PHILADELPHIA, JULY 4, 1776. [With the Facsimiles of the Signers, taken from the original Document.] When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident — that all men are created equal ; that they are endowed by their Creator, with certain unalienable rights ; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; that whenever any form of government becomes destructive ot these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate, that governments long established, should not be changed for liglit and transient causes ; and, accordingly, all experience has shown that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when ;i long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies ; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present king of Great Britain, is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world. He has refused his assent to laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good. He has forbidden his governors to pass laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his assent should be obtained ; and when so suspended he has utterly neglected to attend to them. He has refused to pass other laws, for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of representation in the legislature — a right inestimable to them, and formidable to tyrants only. He has called together legislative bodies, at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing hem into compliance with his measures. 47 He has dissolved representative houses, repeatedly, for opposing with manly finnness his invasions on the rights of the people. He has refused, for a long time after such dissolutions, to cause others to be ejected ; whereby the legislative powers, incapable of annihilation, have returned to the people at large, for their exercise ; the state remaining, in the meantime, exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within. He has endeavored to prevent the population of these states ; for that purpose obstructing the laws for naturalization of foreigners ; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new appropriations of lands. He has obstructed the administration of justice, by refusing his assent to laws, for establishing judiciary powers. He has made judges dependant on his will alone for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries. He has erected a multitude of new offices, and sent hither swarms of officers, to harass our people, and eat out their substance. He has kept among us, in time of peace, standing armies, without the consent of our legislatures. He has affected to render the military independent of, and superior to, the civil power. He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction, foreio-n to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws ; giving his assent to their acts of pretended legislation. For quartering large bodies of armed troops among us : For protecting them, by a mock trial, from punishment for any murders which they should commit on the inhabitants of these states: For cutting off our trade with all parts of the world : For imposing taxes on us without our consent : For depriving us, in many cases, of the benefits of trial by jury : For transporting us beyond seas, to be tried for pretended offences : For abolishing the free system of English laws in a neighboring pravince, establishing therein an arbitrary government, and enlarging its boundaries, so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these colonies : For taking away our charters, abolishing our most valuable laws, and alterino- fundamentally the forms of our governments : For suspending our own legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever. He has abdicated government here, by declaring us out of his protection, and waging war against us. He has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people. He is at this time, transporting large armies of foreign mercenaries to complete the works of death, desolation, and tyranny, already begun, with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ag^, and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation. ft, I 48 He has constrained our fellow-citizens, taken captive on the high seas, to bear arms against their country, to become the executioners of their friends and brethren, or to fall themselves by their hands. He has excited domestic insurrections among us, and has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian savages, whose known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes, and conditions. In every stage of these oppressions, we have petitioned for redress in the most humble terms ; our repeated petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people. Nor have we been wanting in attention to our British brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature, to extend an unwar- rantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which would inevitably interrupt our connexions and correspondence. They, too, have been deaf to the voice of justice and consan- guinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity which denounces our separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind — enemies in war — in peace, friends. We, therefore, the representatives of the United States of America, in general congress assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the name and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, solemnly publish and declare, that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent states — That they are absolved from all allegiance to the British crown, and that all political connexion between them and the state of Great Britain is, and pught to be, totally dissolved ; and that, as free and independent states, they have full power to levy war, conclude peace, contract alliances, establish commerce, and to do all other acts and things which independent states may of right do. And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sncrorl luiiinr. K ^ .^ \ .Mv 51 SIGNERS OF THE DECLARATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE IN CONGRESS ASSEMBLED, JULY 4, 1776, WITH THE DATES OF THEIR BIBTH, DEATH, AND AGES RESPECTIVELY ANNEXED, ETC., IN ALPHABETICAL ORnER By W. C. Armstrong. NAMES OF THE SIGNERS. BORN AT DELEGATED FROM DIED ON THE Adams, Juiiti Braintree, Mass. 19 Oct. 1735 Adams, Samuel Boston, " 27 Sep. 1722 Bartlett, Josiah Amesbury, " in Nov. 1729 Braxton, Carter Newington, Va. 10 Sep. 1736 Carroll, Charles, of CarroUton Annapolis, Md. 20 Sep. 1737 Chase, Samuel Somerset co. Md. 17 Apr. 1741 Clark, Abraham Elizabethtown, N. J. 15 Feb. 1726 Clj'mer, George Philadelphia, Penn. in 1739 Ellery, William Newport, R. I. 22 Dec. 1727 Floyd, William Suffolk co. N. Y. 17 Dec. 1734 Franklin, Benjamin .... Boston, Mass. 17 Jan. 1705 Gerry, Eltiridge Marblehead, Mass. 17 July 1744 Gwinnett, Button England, Europe, in 1732 Hall, Lyman , Conn. in 1731 Hancock, John Braintree, Mass. in 1737 Harison, Benjamin . . . Berkely, Virginia Hart, John Hopewell, N. J. about 1715 Hey ward, Thomas, jr. . . . St. Luke's, S. C. in 1746 Hewes, Joseph Kingston, .N. J. in 1730 Hooper, William Boston, Mass. 17 June 1742 Hopkins, Stephen Scituate, Mas.i. 7 Mar. 1707 Hopkinson, Francis .... Philadelphia, Penn. in 1737 Huntington, Samuel .... Windham, Conn. 3 July 173'. Jefferson, Thomas Shadwell, Virginia, 13 Apr. 1743 Lee, Francis Lightfoot . . . Stratford, " 14 Oct. 1734 Lee, Richard Henry .... Stratford, " 20 Jan. 1732 Lewis, Francis LandaHJ Wales in Mar. 1713 Livingston, Philip Albany, N- Y. 15 Jan. 1716 Lynch, Thomas, jr St. George's, S- C. 5 Aug. 1749 .McKean, Thomas Chester co., Penn. 19 Mar 1734 Middleton, Arthur Middleton Place, S. C- in 1743 Morris, Lewis Morrisania, N. Y- in 1726 Morris, Robert Lancashire, England, Jan 1733-4 Morton, John Ridley, Penn. in 1724 Nelson, Thomas, jr. . . . York, Virginia, 26 Dec- 1733 Paca, William Wye-Hill, Md. 31 Oct. 1740 Paine, Robert Treat .... Boston, Mass. in 1731 Penn, John (son of Moses) . Caroline co., Va. 17 Jlay, 1741 Read, George Cecil county, Md. in 1734 Rodney, Caesar Dover, Delaware, in 1730 Ross, George New Castle, Delaware, in 1730 Rush, Benjamin, M. D. . . . Byberry, Penn 24 Dec. 1745 Rutledge, Edward Charleston, S. C. in Nov- 1749 Sherman, Roger Newton, Mass- 19 Apr- 1721 Smith, James , Ireland, Stockton, Richard Princeton, N. J. 1 Oct. 1730 Stone, Thomas Charles co., Md. in 1742 Taylor, George , Ireland, in 1716 Thornton, Matthew .... , do. in 1714 Walton, George Frederick co. Va- in 1740 Whipple, William Kittery, Maine, in 1730 Williams, WilUam Lebanon, Conn. 8 Apt. 1731 Wilson, James Scotland, About 1742 Witherspoon, John .... Yester, Scotland 5 Feb 1722 Wolcott, Oliver Windsor, Conn. 26 Nov- 1726 Wythe, George Elizabeth City co., Va. 1726 Massachusetts, 4th July, 1826, in his 91st year Massachusetts, . 2d Oct. ISOi, 82d New Hampshire, 19th May, 179,5, 6Gth Virginia, . . lOihOot. 1797, 62d Maryland, . . 14lh Nov 1S32, 96th Maryland, . . . 19th June,1311, 71st New Jersey — Sept. 1794, 69th Pennsylvania, 23d Jan. 1813, 74 th R. I & Prov PI. 15th Feb. 1R20, 93d New York, 4th Aug 1321, 87th Pennsylvania, 17th April, 1790, 84th Massachusetts. 23d Nov. 1314, 70th Georgia, . • . 27th May, 1777, 45th Georiiia, - . . . Feb. 1790, 60th Massachusetts 8th Oct. 1793, 55th Virginia, . . . in April, 1791, New Jersey, . . ,1730, 6fith South Carolina, . in Mar. 1809, 63d North CaroUna, . 10th Nov. 1779, 50th North Carolina, . in Oct. 1790, 4Sth R I. & Prov PI. 13th July, 1735, 78th New Jersey, . . 9th May,1790, 53d Connecticut, . . 5th Jan. 1796, 64th Virginia, • . . 4th July, 1S26, 84th Virginia, . • . April, 1797, 63d Virginia, ■ . . 19th June,1794, 64th New York, . . 30th Dec 1803, 90th New York, . , 12th June, 1778, 63d South Carolina, • lost at sea, 1779, 28lh Delaware, . . . 24lh June, 1817, 84ih South Carohna, . 1st Jan. 1787, 45th New York, . . 22d Jan. 1793, 72d Pennsylvania, 8th May, 1806, 73d Pennsylvania, in April, 1777, 54 th Virginia, . . 4th Jan. 1739, 51st Maryland, . . • in 1799, 60th Massachusetts, • Ilth May,1804, 83d North Carolina, • 26th Oct. 1809, 63d Delaware, . . in 1 798, 64 th Delaware, . ■ • inl783, 53d Pennsylvania, in July, 1779, 49th Pennsylvania, 19th April,lS13, 68th South Carolina, . 23d Jan. 1800, 5l8t Connecticut, • . 23d July, 1793, 73d Pennsylvania, Uth July, 1806, New Jersey, 28th Feb. 1781, BIst Maryland, . . • 5th Oct. 1787, 43d Pennsylvania, 23d Feb. 1781, 65th New Hampshire,. 24th June, 1S03, 89th Georgia, . . 2d Feb. 1804, 64th New Hampshire- 29th Nov. 1785, #55th Connecticut, . 2d Aug. 1811. 81st Pennsylvania, 28th Aug. 1798, 56th New Jersey, . • 15th Nov. 1794, 73d Connecticut, . . 1st Dec 1797, 72th Virginia. 8th June, 1806, 81st 52 GREAT SEAL OF THE UNITED STATES. The above engraving represents the two sides of the great seal of the United States, adopt- ed by Congress. The following is its heraldic definition. "Arms. — Paleways of thirteen pieces, argent and gules, a chief azure; the escutcheon on the breast of the American bald eagle displayed prop- er, holding in his dexter talon an olive branch, and in his sinister, a bundle of thirteen arrows, all proper ; and in his beak a scroll inscribed with this motto, 'E pluribus unum.' "For the Crest. — Over the head of the eagle, which appears above the escutcheon, a glory, or breaking through a cloud proper, and surrounding thirteen stars forming a constellation, argent, on an azure field. "Reverse, — A pyramid unfinished. "In the zenith an eye in the triangle surround- ed with a glory, proper. Over the eye these words, ' Annuit Conptis.' " On the base of the pyramid, the numerical letters, MDCCLXXVI, and underneath the follow- ing motto. ' Novus ordo seclorum.' "Remarks and Explanations of the Device. — The escutcheon is composed of the chief and pale, the two most honorable ordinaries. The thirteen pieces paly represent the several states in the union, ail joined in solid compact, entire, supporting a chief which unites the whole, and represents Congress. The motto alludes to this union. "The pales in the arms are kept closely united by the chief, and the chief depends on that union and the strength resulting from it, for its support, to denote the confederacy of the United States, and the preservation of the Union through Con- gress. " The colors of the pales are those used in the flag of the United States of America. White signifies purity and innocence, red hardiness and valor, and blue, the color of the chief, signifies vigilance, perseverance, and justice. The olive branch and ;>rrows denote the power of peace and war, which % exclusively vested in Congress. "The crest or constellation denotes a new state taking its place or rank among other sovereign powers. " The escutcheon borne on the breast of an American eagle, without any other supporters, to denote that the United States of America ought to rely on their own virtue. " The pyramid on the reverse signifies strength and duration. " The eye over it, and the motto (' annuit corptis,' 'he prospers our endeavors,') alludes to the many signal interpositions of Providence in favor of the American cause. "The date underneath is that of the Declara- tion of Independence, and the words under it sig- nify the beginning of the New American JEva, which commences from that date.' THE KaTHER of NANTUCKET. We have been favoured with a copy of manu- script history, of no doubtful authority, which states that Thomas Macy was the first white person that settled on the island of Nantucket, and which con- tains some amusing incidents in relation to his his- tory. It the year 1665, King Philip, the sachem ol Mount Hope, went to Nantucket with his retinue ia pursuit of one of his tribe who was guil'y of tho enormous crime of sacrilege, inasmuch as he had taken the name of a deceased sachem in vain. The name of the criminal was Asassam, (John Gibbs,) and the impious act which he had committed had aroused the indignation of his whole tribe. Philip and his suite landed from their canoes, on the west end of the island, and travelled to the settlement on the east end, where the criminal had taken refuge. On his arrival there, the criminal fled to good old Thomas, (whom both whites and Indians loved and respected.) implored his protection, and was conceal ed. Philip demanded him, and became so warlike that an assembly of the white inhabitants took place, when a treaty was entered into by the parties, one condition of which was, that Philip should have all the money on the island, if he would reprieve the criminal. A collection took place, nineteen shillings were raised for Philip, and he returned to Mount Hope satisfied. Mr. Macy was equally happy in his whole system of government, and was highly esteemed from the fact that he was the first while inhabitant of the island. jVew Bedford Gazette. 53 Phenician Relick. — The Society of Antiquaries, in London, possess a cylindrical vessel of granite, decorated with a peculiar Grecian ornament on a hoop-like circle, which surrounds the exteriour. It was brought, many years ago, from the Moscheto shore of Central America, and is considered an ad- ditional proof that the shores of the western conti- nent were peopled by the ancient Phenicians. BIOGRAPHY. SAMUEL ADAMS— Born, 1722— Died, 1803. Samuel Adams, whose name is truly dear to all Americans, was bom at Boston, September 22, 1722. His ancestors were among the early set- tlers ; his father was for many years, a representa- tive in the Massachusetts house of assembly. In 1740, Mr. Adams was graduated at Harvard, where he proposed the following question for discussion : "Whether it be lawful to resist the supreme magis- tracy, if the coininoiiwealth cannot otherwise be pre- served?" He maintained the affirmative. He thus exhibited, at this early period, that inflexible love of liberty, which was afterward so important to his country. After leaving college, he embarked in mercantile life, but was unfortunate. He now entered intopublick life, where he was uniformly distinguish- ed for his opposition to every encroachment on the liberties of the people ; and to him also, is ascribed the credit of originating the American Congress. In 1767, Mr. Adams suggested a non-importation agree- ment between the merchants, which was agreed to, and signed by all of them in the province. On the evening of the 5th of March, 1770, an affray took place between the military quartered at Boston, and some citizens, which resulted in a loss of lives on both sides. On the following morning, a publick meeting was called, and Samuel Adams addressed the Assembly with that impressive eloquence which was so peculiar to himself. The people, on this occasion, chose a committee to wait upon the lieutenant-governour, to require that the troops be im- mediately withdrawn from the town. The mission, however, proved unsuccessful, and another resolution was immediately adopted, that a new committee be chosen to wait a second time upon Governour Htitchin- son, for the purpose of conveying the sense of the meet- ing in a more peremptory manner. Mr. Adams acted as chairman. They waited on the lieutenant-governour, and communicated this last vote of the town ; and, in a speech of some length, Mr. Adams stated the danger of keeping the troops longer in the capital, fully provmg the illegality of the act itself; and enumerating the fatal consequences that would en- sue, if he refused an immediate compliance with the vote. Lieutenant-Governour Hutchinson, with his usual prevarication, replied, and roundly assert- ed, that there was no illegality in the measure ; and repeated, that the troops were not subject to his authority, but that he would direct the removal of the twenty-ninth regiment. Mr. Adams again rose. The magnitude of the subject, and the manner in which it was treated by Lieutenant-Governour Hutch- inson, had now roused the imperious feelings of his patriotick soul. With mdignation strongly ex- pressed in his countenance, and in a firm, reso- lute, and commanding manner, he replied, that " it was well known, that, acting as governour of the province, he was by its charter, the commander- in-chief of his majesty's military and naval forces, and as such, the troops were subject to his orders ; and if he had the power to remove one regiment, he had the power to remove both ; and nothing short of this would satisfy the people, and it was at his peril, if the vote of the town was not im- mediately complied with ; and if it be longer de- layed, he, alone, must be answerable for the fatal consequences that would ensue." This produced a momentary silence. It was now dark, and the people were waiting in anxious suspense for the report of their committee. A conference in whispers followed between Lieutenant-Governour Hutchinson and Colonel Dalrymple. The former, finding himself so closely pressed, and the fallacy and absurdity of his arguments thus glaringly exposed, yielded up his positions, and gave his consent to the removal of both regiments ; and Colonel Dalrymple pledged his word of honour, that he would begin his prepa- rations in the morning, and that there should be no unnecessary delay, until the whole of both regi- ments were removed to the castle. At a very early period of the controversy between the mother-country and the colonies, Mr. Adams was impressed with the importance of establishing committees of correspondence. In 1766, he made some suggestions on this subject in a letter to a friend in South Carolina ; but it was found to be either impracticable or inexpedient before the year 1772, when it was first adopted by Massachusetts, on a motion of Mr. Adams at a publick town- meeting in Boston. This plan was followed by all the provinces. Mr. Adams's private letters may have advanced this important work. In a letter to Richard Henry Lee, Esq., of Virginia, which, unfortunately, is without a date, is the following remark : " I would propose it for your consideration, whether the establishment of committees of correspondence, among the several towns in every colony, would not tend to promote the general union upon which the security of the whole depends." It will be re- membered that the resolutions for the establishment of this institution in Virginia, were passed March 12, 1773, which was more than four months subse- quently to the time it had been formed in Boston. Every method had been tried to induce Mr. Adams to abandon the cause of his country, which he had supported with so much zeal, courage and ability. Threats and caresses had proved equally unavailing Prior to this time, there is no certain proof that any direct attempt was made uponhis virtue and integrity, although a report had been publickly and freely cir- culated, that it had been unsuccessfully tried by Governour Bernard. Hutchinson knew him too well to make the attempt. But Governour Gage was era- powered to try the experiment. He sent him a con- i fidential and verbal message by Colonel Fenton, who waited upon Mr. Adams, and after the customary salutations, he stated the object of hi^ visit. He said, that an adjustment of the disputes which ex- isted between England and the colonies, and a recon- ciliation, was very desirable, as well as important to the interest of both. That he was authorized from i Governour Gage to assure him, that he had beenem- ' powered to confer upon him such benefits as won' ' 54 Samuel Adams. be satisfactory, upon the condition, that he would engage to cease in his opposition to the measures of government. He also observed, that it was the advice of Governour Gage to him, not to incur the further displeasure of his majesty; that his conduct had been such as made him liable to the penalties of an act of Henry VIII., by which, persons could be sent to England for trial of treason, or misprision of treason, at the discretion of a governour of a province ; but by changing his political course, he would not only receive great personal advantages, but would thereby make his peace with the king. Mr. Adams listened with apparent interest to this recital. He asked Colonel Fenton, if he would truly deliver his reply as it should be given. After some hesitation he assented. Mr. Adams required his v/ord of honour, which he pledged. Then rising from his chair, and assuming a de- termined manner, he replied: "I trust I have long since made my peace with the Kiso of kings. No personal consideration shall induce me to aban- don the righteous cause of my country. Tell Gov- ernour Gage, IT IS THE ADVICE or Samuel Adams TO HIM, no longer to insidt the feelings of an ex- asperated people." With a full sense of his own perilous situal ion, mark- ed out as an object of ministerial vengeance, hihnnr- ing uniler severe pecuniary embarrassment, but fear- less of personal consequences, he steadily pursued the great object of his soul, the liberty of the people. The time required hold and inflexible measures Common distress required common counsel The aspect was appalling to some of the most decided patriots of the day. The severity «if puuishnirnt which was inflicted on the people of Boston, by iht-, power of England, produced a niplancholy sadness on the friends of American freedom. The Mass:)- chusetts house of assembly was then in session ;it Salem. A committee of that body was chosen to consider and report on the state of the province. Mr Adams, it is said, observed, that some of th" com mittee were for mild measures which he jiidtred no- wise suited to the present emergency. He conferred with Mr. Warren of Plymouth, upon the necessity of spirited measures, and then said : " Do von keep the committee in play, and I will go and make a caucus by the time the evening arrives, and do you meet me." Mr. Adams secured a meeting of about five principal members of the house, at the time specified, and repeated his endeavours for the second and third nights, when the number amounted to more than thirty. The friends of the aduunistra- tion knew nnthin? of the matter. The popular leaders took the sense of the members in a i)rivate way and found that they would be able to carry their scheme by a sufficient ninjority. They had their whole plan completed, prepared their resolu- tions and then determined to bring the business for- ward : but before they commenced, the doorkeeper was ordered to let no person in, norsufler any one to 55 depart. The subjects for discussion, were then in- troduced b)- Mr. Adams, with his usual eloquence on such great occasions. He was chairman of the committee, and reported the resolutions, for the ap- pointment of delegates to a general congress to be convened at Philadelphia, to consult on the general safety of America. This report was received with surprise and astonishment by the administration party. Such was the apprehension of some, that they were apparently desirous to desert the ques- tion. The doorkeeper seemed uneasy at his charge, and wavering with regard to the performance of the duty assigned to him. At this critical juncture, Mr. Adams relieved him, by taking the key and keeping it himself. The resolutions were passed, five dele- gates, consisting of Samuel Adams, Thomas Gush- ing, Robert Treat Paine, John Adams, and James Bowdoin, were appointed, the expense was estima- ted, and funds were voted for the payment. Before the business was finally closed, a member made a plea of indisposition, and was allowed to leave the house. This person went directly to the governour, and informed him of their high-handed proceedings. The governourimmediately sent his secretary to dis- solve the assembly, who found the door locked. He demanded entrance, but was answered, that his de- sire could not be complied with, until some impor- tant business, then before the house, was concluded. Finding every method to gain admission ineffectual, he read the order on the stairs for an immediate dis- solution of the assembly. The order, however, was disregarded by the house. They continued their deliberations, passed all their intended measures, and then obeyed the mandate for dissolution. After many unavailing efforts, both by threats and promises, to allure this inflexible patriot from his de- votion to the sacred cause of independence, govern- our Gage, at length, on the 12th of June, 1775, is- sued that memorable proclamation, of which the fol- lowing is an extract : " In this exigency of com- plicated calamities, I avail myself of the last ef- fort within the boimds of my dut)', to spare the further efl'usion of blood, to offer, and I do hereby in his majesty's name, offer and promise his most gracious pardon to all persons, who shall forthwith lay down their arms, and return to the duties of peaceable subjects, excepting only from the benefit of such pardon, Samuel Adams, and John Hancock, whose offences are of too flagitious a nature to admit of any other consideration than that of con- dign punishment." This was a diploma, conferring greater honours on the individuals, than any other which was within the power of his Britannick majesty to bestow. During the revolution, Mr. Adams was constantly labouring in behalf of his country, and always exert- ing the energies of his mighty mind, fearless of the consequences, to which his devotedness in the cause of liberty might expose him. In 1777, many of the warmest friends of America, began to despair. It was at this critical juncture, after Congress had resolved to adjourn from Philadelphia to Lancas- ter, that some of the leading members accident- ally met in company with each other. A conversa- tion in mutual confidence ensued. Mr. Adams, who was one of the number, was cheerful and undis- mayed at the aspect of affairs, while the counte- nances of his friends were strongly marked with the desponding feelings of their hearts. The con- versation naturally turned upon the subject which most engaged their feelings. Each took occasion to express his opuiions on the situation of the publick cause, and all were gloomy and sad. Mr. Adams listened in silence, till they had finished. He then said : " Gentlemen, your spirits appear to be heavily oppressed with our publick calamities 1 hope you do not despair of our final success ?" It was answered, that '• the chance was despe- rate." Mr. Adams replied : " If this be our language, it is so, indeed. If we wear long faces, they will become fashionable. The people take their tone from ours, and if we despair, can it be expected that they will continue their efforts in what we conceive to be a hopeless cause ? Let us banish such feel- ings, and show a spirit that will keep alive the con- fidence of the people, rather than damp their courage. Better tidings will soon arrive. Our cause is just and righteous, and we shall never be abandoned by Heaven, while we show ourselves worthy of its aid and protection." At this time, there were but twenty-eight of the members of Congress present at Philadelphia. Mr. Adams said, that " this was the smallest, but the truest Congress they ever had." But a few days had elapsed, when the news ar- rived, of the glorious success at Saratoga, which gave a new complexion to our affairs, and confidence to our hopes. Soon after this. Lord Howe, the earl of Carlisle, and Mr. Eden, arrived as commissioners to treat for peace, under Lord North's conciliatory propo- sition. Mr. Adams was one of the committee chosen by Congress, to draught an answer to their letter. In this, it is stated, that " Congress will readily at- tend to such terms of peace, as may consist witli the honour of an independent nation." In 1779, Samuel Adams was placed by the state convention, on a committee, to prepare and report a form of government for Massachusetts. By this committee, he and John Adams were ap- pointed a sub-cotnmittee to furnish a draught of the constitution. The draught produced by them was reported to the convention, and, after some amend- ments, accepted. The address of the convention to the people was jointly written by them. In 1781, he was elected a member of the senate of Massachusetts, and was shortly afterward eleva- ted to the presidency of that body. In 1789, he was elected lieutenant-governour of the state of Massachusetts, and continued to fill that office till 1794, when he was chosen governour of that state. He was annually re-elected till 1797, when, oppressed with years and bodily infirmities, he declined being again a candidate, and retired to private life. After many years of incessant exertion, employ- ed in the establishment of the independence of America, he died on the 3d October, 1803, in the eighty-second year of his age, in indigent circum- stances. The person of Samuel Adams was of the mid- dle size. His countenance was a true index of his mind, and possessed those lofty and elevated charac- teristicks, which are always found to accompany true greatness. He was a steady professor of the Christian re 56 Ii;,'iori, ami iinilormly attended publick worship. His family dtviitions were regularly performed, and his nioralily was never impeached. In his manners and deportment, he was sincere and unaffected ; in conversation, pleasing and in- structive ; and in his friendships, steadfast and affec- tionate. His revolutionary labours were not surpassed by those of any individual. From the commencement of the dispute with Great Britain, he was inces- santly employed in publick service ; opposing at one time, the doctrine of the supremacy of " parliament in all cases," taking the lead in questions of contro- verted policy with the royal governours, writing state papers from 1765, to 1774; — in planning and orga- nizing clubs and committees, haranguing in town- meetings, or filling the columns of publick prints with essays adapted to the spirit and temper of the times. In addition to these occupations, he main- tained an extensive and laborious correspondence with the friends of American freedom in Great Britain and in the provinces. No man was more intrepid and dauntless, when encompassed by dangers, or more calm and unmov- ed amid publick disasters, and adverse fortune. His bold and daring conduct and language subjected him to great personal hazards. Had any fatal event oc- curred to our country, by which she had fallen in her struggle for liberty, Samuel Adams would have been the first victim of ministerial vengeance. His blood would have been first shed as a sacrifice on the altar of tyranny, for the noble magnanimity and independence, with which he defended the cause of freedom. But such was his firmness, that he probably would have met death with as much com- posure, as he regarded ii with unconcern. His writings were numerous, and much dis- tinguished for their eloquence and fervour : but un- fortunately, the greater part of them have been lost, or so distributed as to render their colleetion im- possible. He was the author of a letter to the earl of Hills- borough ; — of many political essays directed against the administration of Govrrnour Shirley ; — of a let- ter in answer to Thomas Paine, in (lefeuce of Chris- tianity, and of an oration published in the year 1776. Four letters of his correspondence on govern- ment are extant, and were published in a pamphlet form in 1800. The venerable Jdhn Adams relates, that on one occasion, he went into Samuel Adams's room, and found him alone, and busily engaged in destroying manuscript documents. Ho inquired why he did it ; and the reply was, that " no papers should be found in his possession, that might endanger the persons of others." Mr. Adams's eloquence was of a peculiar charac- ter. His language was pure, concise, and impres- sive. He was more logical than figurative. His arguments were addressed rather to the understand- ing, than to the feelings ; yet he always engaged the deepest attention of his audience. On ordinary occasions, there was nothing remarkable in his speeches ; but on great questions, when his own feelings were interested, he would combine every '.hing great in oratory. In the language of an elegant writer, the great qualities of his mind were fully dis- played, in proportion as the field for their exertion was extended ; and the energy of his language was not inferiour to the depth of bis niiiid. It was an eloquence admirably adapted to the age in which he flourished, and exactly calculated to attain the object of his pursuit. It may well be described in the language of the poet, " thoughts which breathe, and words which burn." An eloquence, not con- sisting of theatrical gesture, or the pomp of words ; but that which was a true picture of a heart glowing with the sublime enthusiasm and ardour of patriot- ism ; an eloquence, to which his fellow citizens lis- tened with applause and rapture ; and little inferiour to the best models of antiquity, for simplicity, majes- ty, and persuasion. Delaplaine. Almost all nations have, in ignorant times, pos- sessed a strong belief in the supernatural, which has been continued to the present day, among the unenlightened. Wild and terrifick scenes were peopled by the imagination with fierce and fearful beings, while flowery dells, sequestered glades, green and smihng forests, and pleasant water-falls, were selected as the haunts of a gentler, and more grace ful race of beings, than belongs to humanity. Pastoral nations delighted to picture forms ol miniature elegance, whose habitations were delicate and fragrant flowers. The fairy queen Titania hung like a bee or butterfly, within a hairbell, or led the gay dance by moonlight, over roses, without bending the most fragile floweret leaf beneath her footstep. The beings called fairies were at first termed elves, the word elf originating with the Sax- ons, who, from remote antiquity, believed in them. The Laplanders, Icelanders, and inhabitants of Finland, believed in the existence of fairies. Many affirmed that they had had intercourse with them, and had been invited to their subterranean retreats, where they were hospitably entertained. The little men and women handed round wine and tobacco, with which the mortal visiters were supplied in abun- dance, and afterwards sent them on their way, with good advice, and an honourable escort. Up to this time, these people boast of mingling in the magical ceremonies and dances of the fairies. The word fairy is thought by most writers, to be derived from the Persian, and the character of the English fairies and the Persian Piris is similar The Peris of the Orientals, are represented as fe- males of exquisite beauty, and great gentleness, who are not permitted to reside in Heaven. They are not however of earth. They live in the colours of the rainbow, among the gorgeously-tinted clouds, and are nourished by the fragrance of sweet flow- ers. The Dives of the Persians were spirits of the male sex, with habits and dispositions, directly con- trary to those of the Peris. They were malevo- lent, cruel, and fierce, and described as hideous in their appearance. Huge spiral horns sprang from their heads, their eyes were large and staring, their claws sharp and their fangs terrifick. Covered with shaggy hair, and having long rough tails, it seemed as if they possessed every deformity. The Dives warred with mankind, and pursued the Peris with unrelenting haired. Their lives, however, were limited, and they were not incapable of feeling per- sonal violence. 57 NATURE. by robert morris, esi}. " Nature That formed this world so beautiful, that spread Earth's lap with plenty, and life's smallest chord Strung to unchanging unison, that gave The happy birds their dwelling in the grove, That yielded to the wanderers of the deep The lonely silence of the unfathomed main. And filled the meanest worm tliat crawls in dust With spirit, thought, and love." — P. B. Shelley. Heaven's earliest born and still unsullied child. Whose smile is morning and whose frown is night. Around whose brow earth's earliest roses smiled — Thine was the glow of beauty — thine the light That beamed o'er paradise, when woman there. Fresh from her maker's hand — a faultless thing — With dove-like eyes, and shadowy golden hair. From grovelling beast, or bird on tireless wing, Won homage as she passed ! Thine too the glow That flush'd her cheek, or beamed from her white brow. Beauty is thine in all her changing dyes — Color, and light, and shade, and sound, and song, Morn's purple hues, and evening's golden skies — The whispering summer breeze — the whirlwind strono- : Night with her starry train, a shining band, — Each wandering meteor of yon trackless deep — Italia's greenest spot — Zahara's burning sand — The thunder's roll — the lightning's living leap — The lark's light note — the murmur of the bee — All speak of heaven, of order and of thee. The seasons are thy handmaids, and the flowers Fair emblems of thy beauty, — bending grain Made golden by the sun-shine's magic power, — The howling tempest — and the gentle rain Of summer's softer mood, — blossom and fruit — The bending willow and the creeping vine — The rattling hail-storm, and the snow-flake mute — The time-worn oak, the cedar and the pine — Niagara's roaring fall — the noiseless rill — Were nature's at the dawn — are nature's still. Mighty or gentle as may suit thy mood — The whirlwind and the earthquake tell thy power — Thy hand scoop'd out old ocean — jEtna pil'd ; Bent the first rainbow — painted the first flower; The loveliest is thy face in spring's glad hour — The meadows green, the waters leaping free — The earth yet wet with morning's dewy shower — The sunlight beaming o'er the distant sea — When new-born winds their freshness first disclose. And wanton with the violet and the rose. Thy temples are upon the lofty steeps Of Andes and the Apennines — and where The coral insect toils beneath the deep, Or the lone Arab pours his soul in prayer. The meanest intellect — the mightiest mind Master and slave alike admit thy power — Monarch and nation — hero, prince and hind. Must yield at nature's tributary hour — Before thee forests tremble, mountains nod ; How feeble art to thee — " a worm, a god !" Oh, nature ! is it strange the forest child. The tawny tenant of the boundless west — With none to lead his mind beyond ihe wild. Or point his thoughts to regions of the blest — Should deem thy glories god-like, and fall down A savage worshipper ? Should see in thee The spirit of a leaping cataract — The power of life, and death, and destiny — Should, as the lightning flashes through the sky, Believe it fire from some immortal eye ' 8 No — rather marvel that the letter'd fool — The worm whom heaven has giv'n the power of thonoh Seeing thy glories, and the magic rule That governs all thy works — should set at naught The lessons that they teach — should mock the power That call'd from chaos all that mingles here — The loftiest mountain and the lowliest flower — Earth, air and ocean — each celestial sphere Should look from sea to sky — from dust to man And see no God in all the wondrous plan ! JOHN ADAMS.— GEORGE HI. The account that Mr. Adams gave, in a letter to a friend, of his introduction to George III, at the Court of St. James, as the first minister from the rebel co- lonies, is very interesting. " At one o'clock on Wednesday, the 1st of June, 1785, the Master of Ceremonies called at my house, and went with me to the Secretary of State's ofBce, in Cleveland Row, where the Marquis of Caermar- then received and introduced me to Mr. Frazier, his under Secretary, who had been, as his iordiihip said, uninterruptedly in that office through all the changes in administration for thirty years. After a short con- versation, Lord Caermarthen invited me to go with him in his coach to Court. When we arrived in the antechamber the Master of Ceremonies introduced him, and attended me while the Secretary of State went to take the commands of the King. While I stood in this place, where it seems all Ministers stand upon such occasions, always attended hy the Master of Ceremonies, the room was very full of Ministers of State, Bishops, and all other sorts of courtiers, as well as the next room, which is the King's bedcham- ber. You may well suppose I was the focus of all eyes. I was relieved, however, from the embarrass- ment of it by the Swedish and Dutch Ministers, who came to me and entertained me with a very agreea- ble conversation during the whole time. Some oth- er gentlemen, whom I had seen before, came to make their compliments to me, untd the Marquis of Caer- marthen returned and desired me to go with him to his Majesty. I went with his lordship through the levee room into the King's closet. The door was shut, and I was left with his Majesty and the Secre- tary of State alone. I made the three reverences : one at the door, another about half way, and another before the presence, according to the usage establish- ed at this and all the NorthernCourtsof Europe, and then I addressed myself to his Majesty in the follow- ing words : " Sire : The United States have appointed me Min- ister Plenipotentiary to your Majesty, and have di- rected me to deliver to your Majesty this letter, which contains the evidence of it. It is in obedience to their express commands, that I have the honor to assure your Majesty of their unanimous disposition and desire to cultivate the most friendly and liberal intercourse between your Majesty's subjects and their citizens, and of their best wishes for your Ma- jesty's health and happiness, and for that of your family. " The appointment of a Minister from the United States to your Majesty's Court will form an epoch in the history of England and America. I think my- self more fortunate than all my fellow-citizens, in having the distinguished honor to be the first to stand in your Majesty's royal presence in a diplomatic 5S chnracter ; and I shall esteem myself the happiedl of men, if I can be instrumental in recommending my country more and more to your Majesty's royal be- nevolence, and of restoring an entire esteem', confi- dence, and affection ; or, in better words, ' the old good nature and the good old humor,' between peo- pl»^ who, though separated by an ocean, and under different governments, have the same language, a sim- ilar religion, a kindred blood. I beg your Majesty's permission to add, that akbough I have sometimes before been instructed by my country, it was never in my whole life in a manner so agreeable to my- self. "The King listened to every word I said with dig- nity, it is true, but with apparent emotion. Whether it was my visible agitation, for I felt more than I jould express, that touched him, I cannot say ; but he was much affected, and answered me with more tre- mor than I had spoken with, and said : " ' Sir, tile circumstances of this audience are so ex- traordinary, the language you have now held is so ex- tremely proper, and the feelings you have discovered so justly adapted to the occasion, that I not only re- ceive with pleasure the assurance of the friendly dis- position of the United States, but I am glad the choice has fallen upon you to be their minister. I wish you, sir, to believe, that it may be understood in America, that I have done nothing in the late con- test but what I thought myself indispensably bound to do, by the duty which I owed my people. I will be frank with you. I was the last to conform to the separation; but the separation having become inevi- table, I have always said, as I now say, that I would be the first to meet the friendship of the United States as an independent power. The moment 1 see such sentiments and language as yours prevail, and a dis- position to give this country the preference, that mo- ment I shall say, let the circumstances of language, religion, and blood, have their natural, full effect.' "I dare not say that these were the King's precise words ; and it is even possible that I may have, in some particulars, mistaken his meaning; for, although his pronunciation is as distinct as I ever heard, he hesitated sometimes between the members of the same period. He was, indeed, much affected, and I was not less so ; and therefore I cannot be certain that I was so attentive, heard so clearly, and under- stood so perfectly, as to be confident of all his words or sense. This I do say, that the foregoing is his Majesty's meaning, as I then understood it, and his own words, as nearly as I can recollect them. " The King then asked me whether I came last from France, and, upon my answering in the affir- mative, he put on an air of familiarity, and, smiling, or rather laughing, said, ' There is an opinion among some people that you are not the most attached of all your countrymen to the manners of France.' I was surprised at this, because I thought it an indiscretion, and a descent from his dignity. I was a little em- barrassed ; but, determined not to deny truth on the one hand, nor lead him to infer from it any attach- ment to England on the other, I threw off as much gravity as I could, and assumed an air of gaiety and a tone of decision, as far as was decent, and said, 'That opinion, sir, is not mistaken; I must avow to your Majesty, I have no attachment but to my own country.' The King replied as quick as lightning, ' An honest man will have no other.' " The king then said a word or two to the Secre- tary of State, which, being between them, I did not hear, and then turned round and bowed to me, as is customary with all kings and princes wben they give the signal to retire. I retreated, stepping back- wards, as is the etiquette, and making my last re- verence at the door of the chzmheT."—Havward's N. E Gazeteer. INTERESTING FACTS. The first decked vessel ever built within the limits of the old United States, was construct- ed on the banks of the Hudson, by Adrian Block, in the summer of 1614. She was called a yacht, and her first voyage was made through Hurl Gate into the Sound, and as far east as Cape Cod, by the Vineyard passage. It was in this voyage that Block Island was first discovered. Within the first forty-six years after the settlement of Massachusetts, there were built in Boston and its vicinity 730 vessels, varying from six to 230 tuns in burden. One of these, the Blessing of the Bay, a bark of fifty tuns, was built in 163?. The celebrated English patriot and divine, Hugh Peters, caused a vessel of 300 tuns to be con- structed at Salem in 1641. The first schooner ever launched is said to have been built at Cape Ann in 1714. In 1713, Connecticut had but 2brigs, 20 sloops, and a few smaller craft, employing but 120 seamen; while Massachusetts, about" the same time, had 462 vessels, the tunnage of which was 25,406, and employed 3,493 seamen. The first ensign ever shown by a regular American man-of-war, was hoisted on board the frigate Al- fred, in the Delaware, by the hands of Paul Jones, in the latter part of December, 1775. What this ensign was is not precisely known, as the present national colors were not formally adopted until 1777. The first regular American cruiser that went to sea was the Lexington, a little brig of 14 guns, commanded by Capt. John Barry, of Philadelphia. She sailed some time in the winter of 1775. The first American man-of-war that got to sea after the adoption of our present form of government, was the Ganges. She was originally an Indiaman, but was purchased by the government, and con- verted into a cruiser, having an armament of 24 guns. She sailed in May, 1798, under the com- mand of Captain Richard Dale, who was first lieutenant of the Bon Homme Richard, when that ship captured the Serapis. The Constellation was the first of the new built vessels that went to sea, under Captain Truxton. She sailed June, 1793, and was followed by the United States, and a little later, by the Constitu- tion, both these latter sailing in July the same year. The first prize under our present naval organization was the French privateer La Croy- able. She was a schooner of 14 guns, and was captured by the sloop-of-war Delaware, Capt. De- catur. The above historical facts we have glean- ed from Mr. Cooper's excellent Naval History of the United States. 59 rORTRAITS BY LORD BROUGHAM. NAPOT-E0.\ WASHINGTON. After Lafayette had quitted the armies of the Eepublic, defaced by the crimes of 1792, and Car- not himself, long the director of their marvellous achievements, and standing by his country in spite of all the excesses by which she was disfigured, had at length been driven from her side by the evil men that swayed her destinies, victory, long so familiar to the French people, was for a season estranged from them, and the period of their con- quests seemed at last to have arrived. A new and yet more triumphant course was then begun, under the genius of Napoleon Buonaparte, certainly the most extraordinary person who has appeared in modern times, and to whom, in some respects, no parallel can be found, if we search the whole annals of the human race. For thougli the con- quests of Alexander were more extensive, and the matchless character of Ca;sar was embellished by more various accomplishments, and the invaders of Mexico and Peru worked their purposes of subjugation with far more scanty means, j'et the military genius of the Great Captain shines with a lustre peculiarly its own, or which he shares with Hannibal alone, when we reflect that he never had to contend, like those conquerors, with ad- versaries inferior to himself in civilization or dis- cipline, but won all his triumphs over hosts as well ordered and regularly marshalled and amply pro- vided as his own. This celebrated man was sprung from a good family in Corsica, and while yet a boy fixed the attention and raised the hopes of all his connec- tions. In his early youth his military genius shone forth; he soon gained the summit of his profes- sion; he commanded at twenty-five a military operation of a complicated and difficult nature in Paris : being selected for superior command by the genius of Carnot, he rapidly led the French armies through a series of victories till then unex- ampled, and to which, even now, his own after achievements can alone afford any parallel, for the suddenness, the vehemence, and the completeness of the operations That much of his success was derived from the mechanical adherence of his ad- versaries to the formal rules of ancient tactics cannot be doubted ; and our Wellington's cam- paigns would, in the same circumstances, and had he been opposed to similar antagonists, in all like- lihood have been as brilliant and decisive. But he always had to combat the soldiers bred in Na- poleon's school; while Napoleon, for the most part, v.'as matched against men whose inveterate propensity to follow the rules of an obsolete sci- ence, not even the example of Frederick had been able to subdue ; and who were resolved upon be- ing the second time the victims of the same obsti- nate blindness which had, in Frederick's days, made genius triumph over numbers by breaking through rules repugnant to common sense. It must, however, be confessed, that although this consideration accounts for the achievements of this great warrior, which had else been impossible, nothing is thus detracted from his praise, except- ing that what he accomplished ceases to be miracu- lous : for it was his glory never to let an error pass unprofitably to himself; nor ever to give his adversary an advantage which he could not ravish from him, with ample interests, before it was turn- ed to any fatal account. Nor can it be denied that, when the fortune of war proved adverse, the resources of his mind were only drawn forth in the more ample profu- sion. After the battle of Asperne he displayed more skill, as well as constancy, than in all his previous campaigns ; and the struggle which he made in France, during the dreadfuf conflict that preceded his downfall, is by many regarded as the masterpiece of his military" life. Nor let us forget that the grand error of his whole career, the mighty expedition to Moscow, was a political error only. The vast preparations of that campaign — the com- binations by which he collected and marshalled and moved this prodigious and various force like a single corps, or a domestic animal, or a lifeless instrument in his hand — displayed, in the highest degree, the great genius for arrangement and for action with which he was endowed ; and his pro- digious efforts to regain the ground which the disasters of that campaign rescued from his grasp, were only not successful, because no human pow- er could in a month create an army of cavalry, nor a word of command give recruits the discipline of veterans. In the history of war, it is, assured- ly, only Hannibal who can be compared with him ; and certainly, when we reflect upon the yet great- er difficulties of the Carthaginian's position — the much longer time during which he maintained the unequal contest — still more, when we consider that his enemies have alone recorded his story, while Napoleon has been his own annalist — jus- tice seems to require that the modern should yield to the ancient commander. The mighty operation which led to his downfall, and in which all the resources of his vast capacity as well as the recklessness of his boundless ambi- tion were displayed, has long fixed, as well it might, the regards of mankind, and it has not been too anxiously contemplated. His course of victo- ry had been for twelve years uninterrupted. The resources of France had been poured out without stint at his command. The destruction of her liberties had not relaxed the martial propensities of her people, nor thinned the multitudes that poured out their blood under his banners. The fervor of the revolutionary zeal had cooled, but the discipline which a vigorous despotism secures had succeeded, and the Conscription worked as great miracles as the Eepublic. The countless hosts which France thus poured forth, were led by this consummate warrior over all Italy, Spain, Germany ; half the ancient thrones of Europe were subverted, the capitals of half her powers occupied in succession ; and a monarchy was es- tablished which the existence of England and Russia alone prevented from being universal. But the vaulting ambition of the great conquer- or at last outshot itself. After his most arduous and perhaps most triumphant campaign, under- taken with a profusion of military resources un- exampled in the annals of war, the ancient capital of the Russians was in his hands ; yet from the refusal of the enemy to make peace, and the sterili- ty of the vast surrounding pountry, the conquest 60 was bootless to his purpose. He had collected the mightiest army that ever the world saw ; from all parts of the Continent he had feathered his forces ; every diversity of blood and complexion, and tongue, and weapon, shone along his line ; — " Exercitusmixtus ex colluvoine omnium gentium, quibus non lex, non mos, non lingua communis; alius habitus, alia vestis, alia arma, alii ritus, alia sacra" — the resources of whole provinces moved through the kingdoms which his arms held in awe ; the artillery of whole citadels traversed the fields ; the cattle on a thousand hills were made the Ibod of the myriads whom he poured into the plains of Eastern Europe, where blood flowed in rivers, and the earth was whitened with men's bones: but this gigantic enterprise, uniformly successful, was found to have no object, when it had no longer an enemy to overcome, and the victor in vain sued to 'he vanquished for peace. The conflagration of Moscow in one night began his discomliture, wliich the frost of another night completed ! Upon the pomp and circumstance of unnumbered warriors — their cavalry, their guns, their magazines, their equipage — descend- ed slowly, flake by flake, the snow of a northern night. The hopes of Napoleon were blighted ; the re- treat of his armament was cut ofl'; and his doom sealed far more irreversibly than if the conqueror of a hundred lields had been overthrown in battle, and made captive with half his force. All his subsequent efl'orts to regain the power he had lost never succeeded in countervailing the effects of that Russian night. The fire of his genius burnt, if possible, brighter than ever ; in two campaigns his efforts were more than human, his resources more miraculous than before, his valor more worthy of the prize he played for — but all was vain : his weapon was no longer in his hand ; his army was gone ; and his adversaries, no more quailing under the feelmg of his superior nature, had discovered him to be vincible like themselves, and grew bold in their turn, as the Mexicans gath- ered courage, three centuries ago, from finding that the Spaniards were subject to the accidents of mortality. Such was the great captain, and such was the fate on which the conqueror rushed. It is quite certain that the mighty genius of Na- poleon was of the highest order ; he was one of the greatest masters of the art of war ; he is to be ranked among the generals of the highest class, if indeed tliere be any but Hannibal can be placed on a level with him. To all the qualities, both in the council and in the field, which combine to form an accomplished commander, he added, what but few indeed had ever shown, an original gen- ius : he was so great an improver on the inven- tions of others, that he might well lay claim to the honors of discovery. The tactics of Freder- ick he carried so much farther, and with such im- portant additions, that we might as well deny to Watt the originating of the steam-engine, as to Napoleon the being an inventor in military sci- ence. The great step which Frederick made was the connecting together all the operations of an extensive campaign in various quarters, and es- pecially the moving vast bodies of troops rapidly on a given po.nt, so as to fight his adversaries there at a certain advantage. 'I'hi.s required a brave neglect of the eslabiishcd rules of tactics; it required a firm determination to despise formi- dable obstacles; it required an erasure of the words "difficult and impossible" from the gener- al's vocabulary, lu proportion to all the hardi- hood of these operations, was the high merit of their author, and also the certainty of their suc- cess against the regular mechanical generals of Maria Theresa, to whom he was opposed. So much the rather are we to wonder at the success of these generals, the produce of the same German- ic school, showing themselves as unprepared for the great extension of the Prussian system, but in the same direction, which Napoleon practised, and being as completely taken unawares by his rapid movements at Ulm,"and his feints at Wagram, as their masters had been at Rosbach, at Pima, and at Prague. The degree in which he thus extended and im- proved upon Frederick's tactics was great indeed. No man could ever bring such bodies into the field ; none provide by combined operations for their sup- port ; none move such masses from various quar- ters upon one point; none manoruvre at one fight the thousands whom he had assembled, change his operations which the fate of the hour or the moment required, and tell with such absolute cer- tainty the effects of each movement. He had all the knowledge in minute detail which the art ol war requires ; he had a perfectly accurate appre- ciation of what men and horses and guns can do; his memory told him in an instant where each corps, each regiment, each gun, was situated, both in peace and war, and in what condition al- most each company of his vast force was at that moment. Then he possessed the intuitive knowledge of his enemy's state, and movements, and plans ; so nicely could he unravel all conflict- ing accounts, and decide at once as by intuition which was true. In the field his eye for positions, distances, elevations, numbers, was quick, and it was infallible. All his generals at all times sub- mitted their judgment to his, and without the least reluctance or hesitation, not deferring to his au- thority, but yielding from an absolute conviction of his superior skill ; nor ever doubting, because firmly assured he was in the right. His own self-confidence was in the same proportion, and it was unerring. Lying under some cover in fire, he would re- main for an hour or two, receiving reports and is- suing his orders, sometimes with a plan before him, sometimes,with the face to the ground, in his mind only. There he is with his watch in one hand, while the other moves constantly from his pocket, where his snuff-box or rather his snufl lies. An aid-de-camp arrives, tells of a movement, answers shortly some quesiions rapidly, perhaps impatiently, but, is despatched with the order that is to solve the difficulty of some general of divi- sion. Another is ordered to attend, and sent ofl with directions to make some distant corps sup- port an operation. The watch is again consulted ; more impatient symptoms ; the name of one aid- de-camp is constantly pronounced; question after question is put whether any one is coming from a 61 certain quarter; an event is expected ; it ought to have happened ; at length the wished-for mes- senger arrives — " Eh bien ! Qu'a-t-on fait la-bas V "La hateur est gagnee ; le marechal est hi." "Qu'il tienne fernie — pas un pas de movement." Another aid-de-camp is ordered to bring up the Guard. " Que le marechal avance vers la tour en detilant par sa gauche — et tout ce qui se trouve a sa droite est prisonnier." Now the watch is consulted and the snuff is ta- ken no more ; the battle is over ; the fortune of the day is decided ; the great captain indulges in pleasantry; nor doubts any more of the certainty and of the extent of his victory than if he had al- ready seen its details in the bulletin. After all, the grand secret of both Frederick and Napoleon's successes, the movement of the masses which were to place their enemy in a dis- advantageous position, appears to be, like all great improvements, sufficiently obvious; for it is found- ed on the very natural principle on which the modern naval plan of breaking the line proceeds. If either at sea or on shore one party can place his enemy between two fires, or on any material part of his battle bring double the force to bear upon the defenders of that point, the success of the operation is certain. In order to execute such a plan on shore, a prodigious combination of mili- tary resources is required, and they only who are so amply furnished can venture to attempt it. That Najjoleon had this capacity beyond other men is altogether incontestible. But his genius was not confined to war : he pos- sessed a large capacity also for civil affairs. He saw as clearly, and as quickly determined on his course, in government as in the field. His public works, and Ills political reformations, especially his Code of Laws, are monuments of his wisdom and his vigor, more imperishable, as time has al- ready proved, and as himself proudly foretold, than all his victories. His civil courage was more brilliant than his own, or most other men's valor in the field. How ordinary a bravery it was that blazed forth at Lodi, when he headed his waver- ing columns across the bridge swept by the field of Austrian artillery, compared with the undaunt- ed and sublime courage that carried him from Cannes to Paris with a handful of men, and fired his bosom with the desire, and sustained it with the confidence of overthrowing a dynasty, and over- whelming an empire, by the terror of his name ! Nor were his endowments merely those of the statesman and the warrior. If he was not, like Csesar, a consummate orator, he yet knew men so thoroughly, and especially Frenchmen, whom he had most nearly studied, that he possessed the faculty of addressing them in strains of singular eloquence — an eloquence peculiar to himself. It is not more certain that he is the greatest soldier whom France ever produced, than it is certain that his place is high amonc the greatest writers, as far as composition or diction is concerned. Some of his bulletins are models for the purpose which they were intended to serve ; his address to the soldiers of his Old Guard at Fontainbleau IS a masterpiece of dignified and pathetic compo- sition ; his speech during the Hundred Days, at the Champ de Mars, beginning, " General, Consul, Empereur, je tiens tout du peuple," is to be placed among the most perfect pieces of simple and ma- jestic eloquence. These things are not the less true for being seldom or never remarked. But with these great qualities of the will — the highest courage, the most easy formation of reso- lutions, the most steadfast adherence to his pur- pose, the entire devotion of all his energies to his object — and with the equally shining faculties of the understanding by which that firm will work- ed—the clearest and quickest apprehension, the power of intense application, the capacity of com- plete abstraction from all interrupting ideas, the complete and most instantaneous circumspection of all difficulties, whether on one side, or even providently seen in prospect, the intuitive knowl- edge of men, and the power of mind and of tongue to mould their will to his purpose — with these qualities, which form the character held greatest by vulgar minds, the panegyric of Napoleon must close. He was a co.xqueror ; — he was a Tyrant. To gratify his ambition — to slake histhirst of pow- er — to weary a lust of dominion which no conquest could satiate — he trampled on Liberty when his hand might have raised her to a secure place; and he wrapt the world in flames, which the blood of millions alone could quench. By these pas- sions, a mind not originally unkind, was pervert- ed and deformed, till human misery ceased to move it, and honesty, and truth, and pity, all sense of the duties we owe to God and to man, had de- parted from one thus given up to a single and a selfish pursuit. The death of Enghein, the cruel sufferings of Wright, the mysterious end of Pichegru, the pun- ishment of Palm, the tortures of Toussaint, have all been dwelt upon as the spots on his fame; because the misfortunes of individuals presenting a more definite object to the mind, strike our imaginations, and rouse our feelings more than wretchedness in larger masses, less distinctly perceived. But to the eye of calm reflection, the declaration of an unjustifiable war, or the persisting in it a day longer than necessary, presents a more grievous object of contemplation, implies a disposition more pernicious to the world, and calls down a reprobation far more severe. How grateful the relief which the friend of mankind, the lover of virtue experiences, when, turning from the contemplation of such a charac- ter, his eye rests upon the greatest man of our own or any age ; the only one upon whom an epithet so thou'ghtlessly lavished by men, to foster the crimes of their worst enemies may be inno- cently and justly bestowed ! In Washington we truly'behold a marvellous contrast to almost every one of the endowments and the vices which we have been contemplating; and which are so well fitted to excite a mingled admiration, and sorrow and abhorrence. With none of that brilliant gen- ius which dazzles ordinary minds; with not even any remarkable quickness of apprehension ; with knowledge less than almost all persons in the middle ranks, and many well educated of the humbler classes possess; this eminent person is presented to our observation clothed in attributes as modest, as unpretending, as little calculated to strike or astonish, as if he had passed unknown (i'2 through some secluded region of private life. But he had a judgement sure and sound ; a steadi- ness of mind which never suffered any passion, or even any feeling to ruffle its cahn ; a strength of uniierstanding which worked rather than forced its way through all obstacles — removing or avoid- ing rather than overleaping them. If profound sagacity, unshaken steadiness of purpose, the en- tire subjugation of all the passions, which carry havoc through ordinary minds, and oftentimes lay waste the fairest prospects of greatness — nay, the discipline of those feelings which are wont to lull or to seduce genius, and to mar and to cloud over the aspect of virtue herself — ^joined with, or rather leading to the most absolute self-denial, the most habitual and exclusive devotion to prin- ciple — if these things can constitute a good char- acter, without either quickness of apprehension, or resources of information, or inventive power, or any brilliant quality that might dazzle the vulgar ■ — then surely Washington was the greatest man that ever lived in this world uninspired by Divine wisdom, and unsustained by supernatural virtue. Nor could the human fancy create a combina- tion of qualities, even to the very wants and defects of the subject more perfectly fitted for the scenes in which it was his lot to bear the chief part ; whether we regard the war which he conducted, the political constitution over which he afterwards presided, or the tempestuous times through which he had finally to guide the bark himself had launch- ed. Averse as his pure mind and temperate dis- position naturally was from the atrocities of the French Revolution, he yet never leant against the cause of liberty, but clung to it even when degrad- ed by the excesses of its savage votaries. To- ward France, while he reprobated her aggressions upon other states, and bravely resisted her preten- sions to control his own, he yet never ceased to feel the gratitude which her aid to the American cause had planted eternally in every American bosom ; and for the freedom of a nation which had followed the noble example of his countrymen in breaking the chains of a thousand years, he united with those countrymen in cherishing a nat- ural sympathy and regard. Toward England whom he had only known as a tyrant, even in the worst time of French turbulence at home, and in- jury to foreign states, he could not unbend from the attitude of distrust and defiance into which the conduct of her sovereign and his parliament not unsupported by her people, had forced him, and in which the war had left him. Nor was there ever among all the complacent self delusions with which the fond conceits of national vanity are apt to intoxicate us, one more utterly fantas- tical than the notion wherewith the Pitt school were wont to flatter themselves and beguile their followers — that simply because the Great Ameri- can would not yield either to the bravadoes of the Republican envoy, or to the fierce democracy of Jefl'erson, he therefore had become weary of Republics, and a friend to monarchy and to En- gland. In truth, his devotion to liberty, and his intimate ])ersuasion that it can only be enjoyed under the Republican scheme, constantly gained strength to the end of his truly glorious life ; and his steady resolution to hold the balance even be- tween contending extremes at home, as well as to repel any advance from abroad incompatible with perfect independence, was not more dictated by the natural justice of his disposition, and the habitual sobriety of his views, than it sprang from a profound conviction that a commonwealtli is most effectually served by the commanding prudence which checks all excesses, and insures it against the peril that chiefly besets popular governments. His courage, whether in council or in battle, was as perfect as might be expected from this pure and steady temper of soul. A perfect just man, with a thoroughly firm resolution never to be misled by others, any more than to be by others overawed; never to be seduced or betrayed, or hurried away by his own weakness or self delusions, any more than by other men's arts ; nor ever to be disheartened by the most complicated difficul- ties, any more than to be spoiled on the giddy heights of fortune — such was this great man — great — preeminently great, whether we regard him sustaining alone the whole weight of cam- paigns, all but desperate, or gloriously terminating a just warfare by his resources and by his cour- age — presiding over the jarring elements of his political council, alike deaf to the storms of all extremes — or directing the formation of a new government for a great people the first time that so vast an experiment had ever been tried by man — or finally retiring from the supreme power to which his virtue had raised him over the nation he had created, and whose destinies he had guid- ed as long as his aid was required — retiring with the veneration of all parties, of all nations, of all mankind, in order that the rights of men might be conserved, and that his example never might be appealed to by vulgar tyrants. This is tlie consummate glory of Washington ; a triumphant warrior where the most sanguine had a riyht to despair; a successful ruler in all the difficulties of a course wholly untried ; but a warrior whose sword only left its sheath when the first law of our nature commanded it to be drawn ; and u ruler, who, having tasted of supreme power, gen- tly and unostentatiously desired that tlie cup might pass from him, nor would suffer more to wet his lips than the most solemn and sacred duty to his country and his God required ! To his latest breath did this great patriot main- tain the noble character of a cajjtain, tlie patron of peace, and a statesman, the friend of justice. Dying, he bequeathed to his heirs the sword which he had worn in the war of liberty, and charged them " Never to take it from the scabbard but in self defence, or in defence of tlieir country and her freedom ; and commanding them that when it should thus be drawn, they should never sheathe it nor ever give it up but prefer failing with it in their hands to the relinquishment thereof" — words, tlie majesty and simple eloquence of which, are not surpassed in the oratory of Athens and Rome. It will be the duty of the historian and the sage in all ages to let no occasion pass of commemora- ting this illustrious man ; and until time shall be no more will a test of the progress which our race has made in wisdom and in virtue be derived from the veneration paid to the immortal name of Washington ! \ '^^*-- ^ ^ ^'j f / 1 _,— . ^^gi v-iHjn ^ / ' "> MM MM H^#£ m ^^ 1 i 1 >«.MtV„,- '1 65 JOHN PAUL JONES. It would be impossible within our limits, to do justice to this most extraordinary man, whose exer- tions, in the dark hours of our country's peril, entitle bini 10 the gratitude of every American. John Paid was born at Arbigland, in Scotland, on the sixth of July, 1747, and the scenery and associations of his birthplace, and its vicinity, doubtless, encour- aged a restless spirit of adventure, a love of change, and an ardent enthusiasm in the objects of his pur- suits, which were so strikingly manifested in his lift. His first voyage was made before he was thirteen years old ; and maritime pursuits brought him to America. While here his feelings became interest- ed in the cause of the colonies, and fully prepared him for the active part he afterward took in their defence. In 1773, John Paul removed to Virginia, to attend to the affairs of his brolher who had died childless and intestate. He now assumed the addi- tional surname of Jones. On the twenty-second of December, 1775, by a resolution of Congress, Paul Jones was appointed lieutenant in the American Navy, which then consisted of the Alfred, Columbus, Andrew Doria, Sebastian Cabot, and Providence ; the wiiole mounting one hundred guns, and manned by eleven hundred and fifty seamen ; Jones was at- tached to the Alfred, and was the first to hoist the American flag, which was first displayed on board that vessel. On the twenty-second of February, 1778, he thus wrote to the Marine committee : "I am happy in having it in my power to congratulate you on my having seen the American flag, for the first time, recognised, in the fullest and completest maimer by the flag of France." In April, 1778, his memorable visit to White Haven occurred. Time would fail us were we to recount all the various acts of bravery performed by Jones. But we must hasten to one of the bravest actions, in which Jones was ever engaged, and which we shall give in his own words, as contained in his life and correspon- dence, edited by Miss Jeanette Taylor. His official account of the battle between the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis, is as follows : — "On the 21st, we saw and chased two sail off Flam- borough Head ; the Pallas chased in the N. E. quar- ter, while the Bon Homme Richard, followed by the Vengeance, chased in the S. W. ; the one I chased, a brigantiue collier in ballast, belonging to Scarbo- Tough, was soon taken, and sunk immediately after- ward, as a fleet then appeared to the southward. This was so late in the day, that 1 could not come up wilh the fleet before night ; at length, however, I got so near one of them as to force her to run ashore between Flamborough Head and the Spurn. Soon after I took another, a brigantiue from Holland, be- longing to Sunderland, and at daylight next morning, seeing a fleet steering towards me from the Spurn, I 9 imagined them to be a convoy bound from London for Leith, which had been for some time expected. One of them had a pendant hoisted, and appeared to be a ship of force. They had nut, however, courage to come on, but kept back, all except the one which seemed to be armed, and that one also kept to the windward, very near the land, and on the edoe of dangerous shoals, where I could not with safety ap- proach. This induced me to make a signal for a pi- lot, and soon aflerward two pilot-boats came off. They informed me that a ship that wore a pendant was an armed merchantman, and that a king's frigate lay there in sight, at anchor, within the Humber, waiting to take under convoy a number of merchant- ships bound to the northward. The pilots imagined the Bon Homme Richard to be an English ship-of- war, and consequently communicated to me the pri- vate signal which they had been required to make. I endeavoured by this means to decoy the ships out of the port; but the wind then changing, and with the tide, becoming unfavourable for them, the decep- tion had not the desired efl'ecl, and they wisely put hack. The entrance of the Humber is exceedingly difficult and dangerous, and as the Pallas was not in sight, I thought it imprudent lo remain off" the en- trance ; therefore steered out again to join the Pallas off Flamborough Head. In the night we saw and chased two ships until three o'clock in the morn- ing, when, being at a very small distance from them, I made the private signal of reconnoissance, which I had given to each captain before 1 saileil from Groix : onehalf of ihe answer only was return- ed. In this posiiion both sides lay to till daylight, when the ships proved to be the Alliance and the Pallas. " On the morning of that day, the 23d, the brig from Holland not being in sight, we chased a brigan- tiue that appeared laying to, to windward. About noon, we saw and chased a large ship that appeared coming round Flamborough Head, from the north- ward, and at the same time I manned and armed one of the pilot boats to send in pursuit of the brigantine, which now appeared to be the vessel that I had forc- ed ashore. Soon after this, a fleet of forty-one sail appeared ofT Flamborough Head, bearing N. N. E. This induced me to abandon the single ship which had then anchored in Burlington Bay ; I also called back the pilot boat, and hoisted a signal for a general chase. When the fleet discovered us bearing down, all the merchant ships crowded sail toward the shore. The two ships of war that protected the fleet at the same time steered from the land, and made the dispo- sition for battle. In approaching the enemy, I crowd- ed every possible sail, and made the signal for the line of battle, to which the Alliance showed no atten- tion. Earnest as I was for the action, I could not reach the commodore's ship until seven in the even- ing, being then within pistol-shot, when he hailed the Bon Homme Richard. We answered him by firing a whole broadside. " The battle being thus begun, was continued with unremitting fury. Every method was practised on both sides to gain an advantage, and rake each other ; and I must confess tliat the enemy's ship, beincr much more manageable than the Bon Homme Richard, gained thereby several times an advantageous situa- tion, in spite of my best endeavours to prevent it. As I had to deal with an enemy of greatly superiour 66 force, 1 was under the necessity of closing with him, to prevent the advantage which he had over me in point of manoeuvre. It was my intention to lay the Bon Homme Richard athwart the enemy's bow ; but as that operation required great dexterity in the man- agement of both sails and helm, and some of our braces being shot away, it did not exactly succeed to my wish. The enemy's bowsprit, however, came over the Bon Homme Richard's poop, by the mizzen- mast, and I made both ships fast together in that sit- uation, which by the action of the wind on the ene- my's sails, forced her stern close to the Bon Homme Richard's bow, so that the ships lay square along- side of each other, the yards being all entangled, and the cannon of each ship touching the opponents. When this position took place, it was eight o'clock, previous to which the Bon Homme Richard had re- ceived sundry eighteen-pinmd shots below the water, and leaked very much. My battery of twelve-pound- ers, on which I had plact^d my chief dependance, being commanded by Lieutenant Dale and Colonel Weibert, and manned principally with American sea- men and French volunteers, was entirely silenced and abandoned. As to the six old eighteen-pounders that formed the battery of the lower gun-deck, they did no service whatever, except firing eight shots in all. Two out of three of ihem burst at the first fire, and killed almost all the men who were stationed to manage them. Before this time, too. Colonel de Cha- millard, who commanded a party of twenty soldiers on the poop, had abandoned that station after having lost some of his men. I had now oidy two pieces of cannon, (nine-pounders,) on ihe quarter-deck, that were not silenced, and not one of the heavier can- non was fired during the rest of the action. The purser, M. Mease, who commanded the guns on ihe quarter-deck, being dangeron.sly wounded in the head, I was obliged to fill his place, and with great difficulty rallied a few men, and sliil'ied over one of the lee quarter-deck guns, so that we afterward played three pieces of nine-pounders upon the en- emy. The lops alone seconded the fire of this lillle battery, and held out bravely during the whole of the action, especially the maintop, where Lieutenant Stack commanded. I directed the fire of one of tiu^ three cannon against the mainmast, with double- headed shot, while the other two were exceedingly well served with grape and cannister-shot, to silence the enemy's musketry and clear her decks, which was at last efliected. The enemy were, as I have since understood, on the instant of calling for quar- ter, when the cowardice or treachery of three of my under officers induced them to call lo the enemy. The English commodore asked me if I demanded quarter, and 1 having answered him in the most de- termined negative, they renewed the battle with double fury. They were unable to stand the deck ; but the fire of their cannon, especially the lower battery, which was entirely formed of ten-pounders, was incessant ; both ships were set on fire in various places, and the scene was dreadful beyond the reach of language. To account for the timidity of my three under-officers, I mean the gunner, the carpen- ter, and the master-at-arms, I must observe, that the two first were slightly wounded, and, as the ship had received various shots under water, and one of the pumps being shot way, the carpenter expressed his fears that she would sink, and llie uiliir two con- cluded that she was sinking, which occasioned the gunner to run aft on the poop, without my knowl- edge, to strike the colours. Fortunately for me, a cannon-ball had done that before, by carrying away the ensign-staft" ; he was therefore reduced to the necessity of sinking, as he supposed, or of calling for quarter, and he preferred the latter. " All this time the Bon Homme Richard had sus- tained the action alone, and the enemy, though much superiour in force, would have been very glad to have got clear, as appears by their own acknowl- edgements, and by their having let go an anchor the instant that I laid them on board, by which means they would have escaped, had I not made them well fast 10 the Bon Homme Richard. " At last, at half past nine o'clock, the Alliance appeared, and 1 now thought the battle at an end ; but, to my utter astonishment, he discharged a broad- side full into the stern of the Bon Homme Richard. We called to him for God's sake to forbear firing into the Bon Homme Richard ; yet they passed along the ofl" side of the ship, and continued firing. There was no possibility of his mistaking the en- emy's ship for the Bon Homme Richard, there being the most essential difi'erence in their appearance and construction. Besides, it was then full moon- light, and the sides of the Bon Homme Richard were all black, while the sides of the prize were all yellow. Yet, for the greater security, I showed the signal of our reconnoissance, by putting out three lanterns, one at the head, another at the stern, and the third in the middle, in a horizontal line. Every tongue cried that he was firing into the wrong ship, but nothing availed ; he passed round, firing into the Bon Homme Richard's head, stern, and broadside, and by one of his volleys killed several of my best men, and mortally wounded a good officer on the forecastle. My situation was really deplorable ; the Bon Homme Richard received various shots un- der water from the Alliance ; the leak gained on the pumps, and the fire increased much on board buili ships. Some officers persuaded me to strike, ol whose courage and good sense I entertain a high opinion. My treacherous master-at-arms let loose all my prisoners without my knowledge, and my prospects became gloomy indeed. I would not, however, give up the point. The enemy's main- mast began to shake, their firing decreased fast, ours rather increased, and the British colours were struck at half an hour past ten o'clock " This prize proved to be the British ship of war, the Serapis, a new ship of forty-four guns, built on the most approved construction, with two complete batteries, one of them of eighteen-pounders, and commanded by the brave Commodore Richard Pear- son. I had yet two enemies to encounter, far more formidable than the Britons, I mean fire and water. The Serapis was attacked only by the first, but the Bon Homme Richard was assailed by both ; there was five feet water in the hold, and though it was moderate from the explosion of so much gunpowder, }'et the three pumps that remained could with diffi- culty only keep the water from gaining. The fire broke out in various parts of the ship, in spite of all the water that could be thrown in to quench it, and at length broke out as low as the powder-magazine, and within a few inches of the powder. In that dilemma, I took out the powder upon deck, ready to 67 be thrown overboard at tke last extremity, and it was ten o'clock the next day, the 24th, before the fire was entirely extinguished. With respect to the situation of the Bon Homme Richard, the rudder was cut entirely off, the stern-frame and transoms were almost entirely cut away, and the timbers by the lower deck, especially from the mainmast to- ward the stern, being greatly decayed with age, were mangled beyond my power of description, and a person must have been an eyewitness to form a just idea of the tremendous scene of carnage, wreck, and ruin, which everywhere appeared. Humanity cannot but recoil from the prospect of such finished horrour, and lament that war should be capable of producing such fatal consequences. " After the carpenters, as well as Captain Cotti- iieau and other men of sense, had well examined and surveyed the ship, (which was not finished be- fore five in the evening,) I found every person to be convinced that it was impossible to keep the Bon Homme Richard afloat so as to reach a port, if the wind should increase, it being then only a very moderate breeze. I had but little time to remove my wounded, which now became unavoidable, and which was effected in the course of the night and next morning. I was determined to keep the Bon Homme Richard afloat, and, if possible, to bring her into port. For that purpose, the first lieutenant of the Pallas continued on board with a party of men to attend the pumps, with boats in waiting ready to take them on board, in case the water should gain on them too fast. The wind augmented in the night, and the next day, the 25th, so that it was im- possible to prevent the good old ship from sinking. They did not abandon her till after nine o'clock ; the water was then up to the lower deck, and a little after ten I saw, with inexpressible grief, the last glimpse of the Bon Homme Richard. No lives were lost with the ship, but it was impossible to save the stores of any sort whatever. I lost even the best part of my clothes, books, and papers ; and several of my officers lost all their clothes and effects. " Having thus endeavoured to give a clear and simple relation of the circumstances and events that have attended the little armament under my com- mand, I shall freely submit my conduct therein to the censure of my superiours and the impartial pub- Uck. I beg leave, however, to observe, that the force put under my command was far from being well composed, and as the great majority of the ac- tors in it have appeared bent on the pursuit of in- terest only, I am exceedingly sorry that they and I have been at all concerned. " Captain Cottineau engaged the Countess of Scarborough, and took her, after an hour's action, while the Bon Homme Richard engaged the Ser- apis. The Countess of Scarborough is an armed ship of twenty six-pounders, and was commanded by a king's officer. In the action, the Countess of Scarborough and the Serapis were at a considerable distance asunder ; and the Alliance, as I am inform- ed, fired into the Pallas and killed some men. If it should be asked, why the convoy was suffered to escape, I must answer, that I was myself in no con- dition to pursue, and that none of the rest showed any inclination ; not even Mr. Ricot, who had held off at a distance to windward during the whole action, and withheld by force the pilot-boat with my lieutenant and fifteen men. The Alliance, too, was in a state to pursue the fleet, not having had a sin- gle man wounded, or a single shot fired at her from the Serapis, and only three that did execution from the Countess of Scarborough, at such a distance that one stuck in the side, and the other two just touched, and then dropped into the water. The Al- liance killed one man only on board the Serapis. As Captain de Cottineau charged himself with man- ning and securing the prisoners of the Countess of Scarborough, I think the escape of the Baltick fleet cannot so well be charged to his account. " I should have mentioned, that the mainmast and mizzentopmast of the Serapis fell overboard, soon after the captain had come on board the Bon Homme Richard." THE DESERTED CHILDREN. " I WILL record in this place," says Mr. Flint, in his Travels in America, " a narrative that impressed me deeply. It was a fair example of the cases of extreme misery and desolation that are often witnes- sed on the Mississippi river. In the Sabbath School at New Madrid we received three children, who were introduced to that place under the following circumstances : A man was descending the river with these three children in his pirogue. He and his children had landed on a desert island, on a bit- ter snowj' evening in December. There were but two houses, and these at Little Prairie opposite the island, within a great distance. He wanted more whiskey, although he had been drinking too freely. Against the persuasion of his children, he left them, to cross over in his pirogue to these houses, and re- new his supply. The wind blew high, and the river was rough. Nothing could persuade him from this dangerous attempt. He told them that he should return to them that night, left them in tears, and ex- posed to the pitiless pelting of the storm, and started for his carouse. The children saw the boat sink before he had half crossed the passage ; the man was drowned. These forlorn beings were left without any other covering than their own scanty ragged dress, for he had taken his blankets with him. They had neither fire nor shelter, and no other food than uncooked pork and corn. It snowed fast, and the night closed over them in this situation. The elder was a girl of six years, but remarkably shrewd and acute for her age. The next was a girl of four, and the youngest a boy of two. It was affecting to hear her describe her desolation of heart, as she set herself to examine her resources. She made them creep together, and draw their feet under her clothes. She covered them with leaves and branches, and thus ihey passed the first night. In the morning, the younger children wept bitterly with cold and hunger. The pork she cut into small pieces. She then per- suaded them to run about by setting them the exam- ple. Then she made them return to chewing corn and pork. It would seem as if Providence had a special eye to these poor children, for in the course of the day some Indians landed on the island, found them, and as they were coming up to New Madrid, took them with them. 68 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF. It needs not thai we remind the reader what is the subject of our frontispiece to the present num- ber. Every child in the laud has heard its grand- mother tell the story, and we are all familiar with it. Dr. Anderson, however, has a wav peculiar to himself, in perpetuating the recollection ol' these fa- miliar incidents, as will be seen by reference to the engraving opposite — and he desires that the " com- mon version" should also be given, in order that the curious may compare notes. To gratify him, therefore, we give the .story a.s told by Col. Humphreys, the biographer of the in- trepid Putnam. "In the year 1799, Putnam removed from Salem, Mass., to Pomfret, an inland fertile town in Con- necticut, forty miles east of Hartford ; where he ap- plied himself successfully to agricullure. The first years on a ntw farm, are not, however, exempt from disasters and disappointments, which can only be remedied by stubborn and patient indus- try. Our farmer, sufficiently occupied in building a house and barn, felling woods, making fences, sow- ing grain, planting orchards and taking care of his stock, had to encounter, in turn, the calamities oc- casioned by drought m summer, blast iti harvest, loss of cattle in winter, and the desolation of his sheep- fold by wolves. In one night he had sevent)- fine sheep and goats killed, besides many lambs and kids wounded. This havock was cominitted by a she- wolf, which, with her annual whelps, had for several years infested the vicinity. The young were com- monly destroyed by the vigilance of the hunters, but the old one was too sagacious to come within reach of gunshot : upon being closely pursued she would generally flv to the western woods, and return the next winter with another litter of whelps. I This wolf, at lengtli, became such an intolerable nuisance, that Mr. Putnam entered into a comhina- ; lion with live of his neighbours to hunt alternately until they could destroy her. Two, by rotation, were to be constantly in pursuit. It was known, that, having lust the toes from one foot by a steel trap, she made one track shorter than the other. By j this vestige, the pursuers recognised, in a light snow, • the route of this pernicious ariimal. Having lol- iowed her to Couneclicnl river, and found she had turned back in a direct course toward Pomfret, they immediately returned, and by ten o'clock the next morning, the blood-lnumds had driven her into a den, about three miles distant from the house of. Mr. Putnam. The people soon collected with dogs, | guns, straw, fire, and sulphur, to attack the common | enemy. With this apparatus, several unsuccessful eflTorts were made to force her from the (l(!n. The hounds came back badly wounded and refused to re- turn. The smoke of blazing straw had no eflect. "Nor did the fumes of burnt brimstone, wiih which the cavern was filled, compel her to quit the retire- ment. Wearied with such fruitless atteini)is, (which had brought the time to ten o'clock at night,) Mr. Putnam tried once more to make his dog enter, but in vain. He proposed to his negro-man to go down into the cavern and shoot the wolf; the negro de- clined the hazardous service. Then it was, that their master, angry at the disappointment, and de- claring that he was ashamed to have a coward in his family, resolved himself to destroy the ferocious beast, lest she should escape through some unknown fissure of the rock. His neighbours strongly re- monstrated against the perilous enterprise : but he, knowing tliat wild animals were intimidated by fire, and having provided several strips of birch-bark, the only combustible material which he could obtain, that would afford light in this deep and darksome cave, prepared for his descent. Having, accordingly, divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and hav- ing a long rope fastened round his legs, by which he might be pulled back, at a concerted signal, he enter- ed head foremost, with the blazing torch in his hand. The aperture of the den, on the east side of a very high ledge of rocks, is about two feet square ; from thence it descends obliquely fifteen feet, then running horizontally about ten more, it ascends grad- ually sixteen feet toward its termination. The sides of this subterraneous cavity are composed of smooth and solid rocks, which seem to have been divided from each other by some former earthquake. The top and bottom are also of stone, and the entrance, in winter, being covered with ice, is exceedingly slippery. It is in no place high enough for a man to raise himself upright; nor in any part more than three feet in width. Having groped his passage to the horizontal part of the den, the most terrifying darkness appeared in front of the dim circle of light afiorded by his torch. It was silent as the house of death. None but mon- sters of the desert had ever before explored this sol- itary mansion of horrour. He. cautiouslv proceed- ing onward, came to the ascent, which he slowly mounted on his hands and knees, until he discovered the glaring eyeballs of the wolf, who was sitting at the extremity of the cavern. Startled at the sight of fire, she gnashed her teeth and gave a sullen growl. As soon as he had made the necessary dis- covery, he kicked the rope as a signal for pulling him out. The people at the mouth of the den, who had listened with painful anxiety, hearing the growl- ing of the wolf, and supposing their friend to be in the most imminent danger, drew him forth with such celerity, that his sliirt was stripped over his head and his skin severely lacerated. After he had ad- justed his clothes and loaded his gun with nine buck-shot, holding a torch in one hand and the mus- ket in the other, he descended the second time. When he drew nearer than before, the wolf, assu ming a still more fierce and terrible appearance, howl- ing, rolling her eves, snapping her teeth, and drop- ping her head between her legs, was evidently in the attitude and on the point of springing at him. At this critical instant, he levelled and fired at her head. Stunned with the shock, anil suffocated with the smoke, he immediately found himself drawn out of ttie cave. But having refre.^hed himself, and per- mitted the smoke to dissipate, he went down the third time. Once more he came within sight of the wolf, who appearing \ery passive, he applied the torch to hor nose ; and perceiving her dead, he toiik hold of her ears, and then kicking the rope, (still tied round his legs,) the people above, with no small exultation, dragged them both out together." c: c r -=3 71 RECOLLECTIONS OF GENERAL PUTNAM. "In the winter of 1757, when Col. Havilaiid was commandant of fort Edward, the barracks adjoininu; to the northwest bastion look fire. They extended within twelve feet of the magazine, which contained three hundred barrels of powder. On its first dis- covery, the fire raged with great violence. The commandant endeavoured, in vain, by discharging some pieces of lieavy artillery against the supporters of this flight of barracks, to level them with the ground. Putnam arrived from the island where he was stationed, at the moment when the blaze ap- proached thai end which was contiguous to the mag- azine. Instantly, a vigorous attempt was made to extinguish the conflagration. A way was opened by a postern-gate to the river, and the soldiers were employed in bringing water; which he, having mounted on a ladder to the eaves of the building, re- ceived and threw upon the flame. It continued, not- withstanding their utmost eflbrts, to gain upon them. He stood, enveloped in smoke, so near the sheet of fire, that a pair of thick blanket-inittens were burnt entirely from his hands — he was supplied with another pair dipped in water. Col. Haviland, fear- ing that he would perish in the flames, called to him to come down. But he entreated that he might be sufl'ered to remain, since destruction must inevitably ensue if their exertions should be remitted. The gallant commandant, not less astonished than charm- ed at the boldness of his conduct, forbade any more effects to be carried out of the fort, animated the men to redoubled diligence, and exclaimed, " If we must be blown up, we will all go together." At last, when the barracks were seen to be tumbling, Putnam descended, placed himself at the interval, and continued from an incessant rotation of replen- ished buckets to pour water upon the magazine. The outside planks were already consumed by the proximity of the fire, and as only one thickness of timber intervened, the trepidation now became gen- eral and extreme. Putnam, still undaunted, covered with a cloud of cinders, and scorched with the in- tensity of the heat, maintained his position until the fire subsided, and the danger was wholly over. He had contended for one hour and a half with that ter- rible element. His legs, his thighs, his arms, and his face were blistered; and when he pulled off his second pair of mittens, the skin from his hands and fingers followed them. It was a month before he recovered. The commandant, to whom his merits had before endeared him, could not stifle the emo- tions of gratitude, due to the man who had been so instrumental in preserving the magazine, the fort, and the garrison." " A few adventures, in which the public interests were little concerned, but which, from their peculiar- ity, appear worthy of being preserved, happened be- fore the conclusion of the year. As one day, Major Putnam chanced to lie, with a balteau and five men, on the eastern shore of the Hudson, near the rapids, contiguous to which fort Miller stood ; his men on the opposite bank had given him to understand, that a large body of savages was in his rear, and would be upon him in a moment. To stay and be sacri- ficed — to attempt crossing and be shot — or to go down to the falls, with an almost absolute certainty of being drowned, were the sole alternatives that presented themselves to his choice. So instanta- neously was the latter adopted, that one man who had rambled a little from the party, was, of necessi- ty, leit, and fell a miserable victim to savage barbar- ity. The Indians arrived on the shore soon enough to fire many balls on the balteau before it could be got under way. No sooner had our batteau-men escaped, by favour of the rapidity of the current, be- yond the reach of musket-shot, than death seemed only to have been avoided in one form, to be encoun- tered in another, not less terrible. Prominent rocks, latent shelves, absorbing eddies, and abrupt descents, for a quarter of a mile, afforded scarcely the smal- lest chance of escaping without a miracle. Putnam, trusting himself to a good Providence, whose kind- ness he had often experienced, rather than to men, whose lenderest mercies are cruelty, was now seen to place himself sedately at the helm, and afford an astonishing spectacle of serenity : his companions, with a mixture of lerrour, admiration, and wonder, saw him incessantly changing the course, to avoid the jaws of ruin, that seemed expanded to swallow the whirling boat. Twice he turned it fairly round to shun the rifts of rocks. Amidst these eddies, in which there was the greatest danger of its founder- ing, at one moment the sides were exposed to the fury of the waves ; then the stern, and next the bow, glanced obliquely onward, with inconceivable velocity. With not less amazement the savages be- held him sometimes mounting the billows, then plunging abruptly down, at other times skilfully veer- ing from the rocks, and shooting through the only narrow passage ; until, at last, they viewed the boat safely gliding on the smooth surface of the stream below. At this sight, it is asserted, that these rude sons of nature were affected with the same kind of superstitious veneration, which the Europeans in the dark ages entertained for some of their most val- orous champions. They deemed the man invulner- able, whom their balls (on his pushing from shore) would not touch, and whom they had seen steering in safety down the rapids that had never before been passed. They conceived it would be an affront against the Great Spirit, to attempt to kill this fa- voured mortal with powder and ball, if they should ever see and know him again " " In the battle of Princeton, Capt. M'Pherson, of the 17th British regiment, a very worthy Scotch- man, was desperately wounded in the lungs and left with the dead. Upon General Putnam's arrival there, he found him languishing in extreme distress, without a surgeon, without a single accommodation, and without a friend to solace the sinking spirit in the gloomy hour of death. He visited and imme- diately caused every possible comfort to be admin- istered to him. Capt. M'Pherson, who contrary to all appearances recovered, after having demonstrated to Gen. Putnam the dignified sense of obligations which a generous mind wishes not to conceal, one day in familiar conversation demanded — ' Pray, sir, what countryman are you V ' An American,' an- swered the latter. ' Not a Yankee !' said the other ' A full-blooded one,' replied the general. ' By G-d I am sorry for that,' rejoined M'Pherson, ' I did not think there could be so much goodness and generos- ity in an American, or, indeed, in anybody but a Scotchman.' " 72 DANIEL MORGAN. From the "Custis Recollections and Private Memoirs of the Life and Character of Washington." The outposts of the two armies were very near to each other, when the American commander, de- sirous of obtaining particular information respecting the positions of his adversary, summoned the famed leader of the riflemen, Colonel Daniel Morgan, to headquarters. It was night, and the chief was alone. After his usual polite, yet reserved and dignified salutation, Washington remarked, " I have sent for you, Colonel Morgan, to intrust to your courage and sagacity, a reconnoitre of the enemy's lines, with a view to your ascertaining correctly the position of their new- ly-constructed redoubts, also of the encampments of the British troops that have lately arrived, and those of their Hessian auxiliaries. Select, sir, an officer, a non-commissioned officer, and about twenty picked men, and, under cover of the night, proceed, but with all possible caution, get as near as you can, and learn all you can, and by day dawn retire and make vour report to headquarters. But mark me, Colo- nel Morgan, mark nie well, on no account whatever are you to bring on any skirmishing with the ene- niv ; if discovered, make a speedy retreat ; let no- thing induce you to lire a single shot ; 1 repeat, sir, that no force of circumstances will excuse the dis- charge of a single ritle on your part, and for the ex- treme preciseness of these orders, permit me to say that I have my reasons." Filling two glasses of wine, the general continued — "And now, Colonel Morgan, we will drink a good night, and success to your en- terprise." Morgan quaffed the wine, smacked his lips, and assuring his excellency that his orders should be punctually obeyed, left the tent of the commander-in-chief. Charmed at being chosen as the executive officer of a daring enterprise, the leader of the woodsmen repaired to his c[uarters, and calling for Gabriel Long, his favourite captain, ordered him to detach a sergeant and twenty prime fellows, who being mus- tered, and ordered to lay on their arms, ready at a moment's warning, Morgan and Long stretched their manly forms before the watchfire, to await the going down cf the moon, the signal for departure. A little after midnight, and while the rays of the setting moon still faintly glimmered in the western horizon, " Up, Sergeant," cried Long ; " stir up your men," and twenty athletick figures were upon their feet in a moment. Indian file, march, and away all sprung, with the quick, yet light and stealthy step of the woodsmen. They reached the enemy's lines, crawled up so close to the pickets of the Hessians as to inhale the odour of their pipes, discovered, by the newly turned-up earth, the positions of the re- doubts, and by the numerous tents that dotted the field for " many a rood around," and shone dimly amid the night haze, the encampments of the British and German reinforcements, and, in short, performed their perilous duty without the slightest discovery ; and pleased, prepared to retire, just as chanticleer, from a neighbouring farmhouse, was " bidding salu- tation to the morn." The adventurous party reached a small eminence, at some distance from the British camp, and com- manding an extensive prospect over the adjoining coimtry. Here Morgan halted to give his men a litllc rest, before taking up his line of march for the American outposts. Scarcely had they thrown tlieniselves on the grass, when they perceived, issu- ing from the enemy's advanced pickets, a body of horse, commanded by an officer, and proceeding along the road that led directly by the spot where the riflemen had halted. No spot could be better chosen for an ambuscade, for there were rocks and ravines, and also scrubby oaks, that grew thickly on the eminence by which the road, we have just mentioned, passed, at not exceeding a hundred yards. •' Down, boys, down," cried Morgan, as the horse approached, nor did the clansmen of the Black Klioderiek, disappear more promptly amid their na- tive heather, than did Morgan's woodsmen in the present instance, each to his tree or rock. " Lie close there, my lads, till we see what these fellows are about." Meantime, the horsemen had gained the height, and the officer, dropping the rein on his charger's neck, with a spyglass, reconnoitred the American lines. The troopers closed up their files, and were either cherishing the noble animals they rode, ad- justing their equipments, or gazing upon the sur- rounding scenery, now fast brightening in the beams of a rising sun. Morgan looked at Long, and Long upon his supe- riour, while the riflemen, with panting chests and sparkling eyes, were only awaiting the signal from their officers " to let the ruin fly." At length, the martial ardour of Morgan overcame his prudence and sense of military subordination Forgetful of consequences, reckless of every thing but his enemy, now within his grasp, he waved his hand, and loud and sharp rang the report of the rifles amid the surrounding echoes. A pointblank distance, the certain and deadly aim of the Hunting Shirts of the revolutionary army, is too well known to history, to need remark at this time of day. In the instance w'e have to lecord, the eflects of the fire of the riflemen were tremendous. Of the horse- men, some had fallen to rise no more, while their liberated chargers rushed wildly over the adjoining plains, others wounded, but entangled with theii stirrups, were dragged by the furious animals expi- ringiy along, while the very few who were unscath- ed, spurred hard to regain the shelter of the British lines. While the smoke yet canopied the scene of slaugh- ter, and the picturesque forms of the woodsmen ap- peared among the foliage, as they were reloading their pieces, the colossal figure of Morgan stood apart. He seemed the very genius of war, as gloomi- ly he contemplated the havock his order had made. He spoke not, he moved not, but looked as one ab- sorbed in an intensity of thought. The martial shout, with which he was wont to cheer his comrades in the hour of combat, was hushed, the shell* from * Morgan's riflemc-n were Generally in the advance, slvirmish- ing witii the light troops of the enemy, or annoying his flanlts ; the regiment was thus much divided mto iletachnienls, and dis- persecTover a very wide field of action. Morgan was in thehab It of using a conen-shell frequently during the heat of 'he battle, with which he would blow a loud and warlike bias.. This, he said, was to inform his boys that he was still alive, and thnt from many parts of the field was beholding their prowess ; and like the celebrated sea-warriour of a was expectmg that " every man nother hemisphere's last signal, would do his duty." which he had blown full many a note of battle and of triumph on the fields of Saratoga, hung idly by his side ; no order was given to spoil the slain, the arms and equipments for whicb there was always a boun- ty from Congress, the shirts for which there was so much need in that, the sorest period of our country's privation, all, all were abandoned, as with an ab- stracted air, and a voice struggling for utterance, Morgan suddenly turning to his captain, exclaimed : " Long, to the camp, march." The favourite captain obeyed, the riflemen with trailed arms fell into file, and Long and his party soon disappeared, but not before the hardy fellows had exchanged opinions on the strange termination of the late affair. And they agreed nem con, that their colonel was tricked, (conjured,) or assuredly, after such a fire as they had just given the enemy, such an emptying of saddles, and such a squandering of the troopers, he would not have ordered his poor rifle boys from the held, without so much as a lew shirts or pair of stocli- ings being divided among them. " Yes," said a tall, lean, and swarthy looking fellow, an Indian hunter from the frontier, as he carefully placed his moccasined feet in the foot prints of his file leader, " Yes, my lads, it stands to reason, our colonel is tricked." Morgan followed slowly on the trail of his men. The full force of his militar}- guilt had rushed upon his mind, even before the reports of his rifles had ceased to echo in the neighbouring forests. He be- came more and more convinced of the enormity of his oflence, as with dull and measured strides, he pursued his solitary way, and thus he soliloquized : " Well, Daniel Morgan, you have done for yourself Broke, sir, broke to a certainty. You may go home, sir, to the plough ; your sword will be of no further use to you. Broke, sir, nothing can save you ; and there is an end of Colonel Morgan. Fool, fool — by a single act of madness, thus to destroy the earnings of so many toils, and manv a hard-fought battle. You are broke, sir, and there is an end of Colonel Morgan." To disturb this reverj-, there suddenly appeared, at full speed, the aiddecamp, the Mercury of the field, who, reining up, accosted the colonel with, " 1 am ordered. Colonel Morgan, to ascertain, whether the firing just now heard, proceeded from your detach- ment." — " It did, sir," replied Morgan, sourly. " Then, Colonel," continued the aid, " I am further ordered to require your immediate attendance upon his ex- cellency, who is approaching." Morgan bowed, and the aid, wheeling his charger, galloped back to rejoin his chief. The gleams of the morning "^un upon the sabres of the horse guard, announced the arrival of the dread- ed commander — that being, who inspired with a de- gree of awe, every one who approached him. With a stern, yet dignified composure, Washington ad- dressed the military culprit : " Can it be possible. Colonel Morgan, that my aiddecamp has informed me aright ] Can it be possible, after the orders you received last evening, that the firing we have heard, proceeded from your detachment ? Surely, sir, my orders were so expUcil as not to be easily misunderstood." Morgan was brave, but it has been often, and justly too, observed, that that man never ivas born of a woman, who could approach the great Washington, and not feel a degree of awe and ven- 10 eration for his presence. Morgan quailed for a mo- ment, before the stern, yet just displeasure of his chief, till arousing all his energies to the effort, he uncovered and replied : " Your excellency's orders were perfectly well understood , and agreeably to the same, I proceeded with a select party to recon- noitre the enemy's lines by night. We succeeded, even beyond our expectations, and I was returning to headquarters to make my report, when, having halted a few minutes to rest the men, we discovered a party of horse coming out from the enemy's lines. They came up immediately to the spot where we lay concealed in the brushwood. There they halted, and gathered up together like a flock of partridges, affording me so tempting an opportunity of aimoying my enemy, that, may it please your excellency, flesh and blood could not refrain." On this rough, yet frank, bold, and manly explana- tion, a smile was observed to pass over the counte- nances of several of the general's suite. The chief remained unmo\ ed ; when, waving his hand, he con- tinued : "Colonel Morgan, you will retire to your quar- ters, there to await further orders." Morgan bowed, and the military cortege rode on to the inspection of the outposts. Arrived at his quarters, Morgan threw himself up- on his hard couch, and gave himself up to reflections upon the events which had so lately and so rapidly succeeded each other. He was aware that he had sinned past all hopes of forgiveness. Within twenty- four hours he had fallen from the command of a re- giment, and being an especial favourite with the general, to be, what — a disgraced and broken soldier. Condemned to retire from scenes of glory, the dsr ling passions of his heart — for ever to abandon the " fair fields of fighting men," and in obscurity, to drag out the remnant of a wretched existence, neg- lected and forgotten. And then his rank, so hard- ly, so nobly won, with all his " blushing honours," acquired in the march across the frozen wilderness of the Kennebeck, the storming of the Lower town, and the gallant and glorious combats of Saratoga. The hours dragged gloomily awav, night came, but with it, no rest for the troubled spirit of poor Morgan. The drums and fifes merrily sounded the soldier's dawn, and the sun arose, giving " pro- mise of a good day." And to many within the cir- cuit of that widely-extended camp, did its genial beams give hope, and joy and gladness, while it cheered not with a single ra)-, the despairing leader of the woodsmen. About ten o'clock, the orderly on duty reported an arrival of an officer of the staff from headquar- ters, and Lieutenant-col. Hamilton, the favourite aid of the commander-in-chief, entered the markee. " Be seated," said Morgan ; " I know your errand, so be short, my dear fellow, and put me out of my mis- ery at once. I know that I am arrested; 'tis a matter of course. Well, there is my sword ; but surely, his excellency honours me, indeed, in these last moments of my military existence, when he sends for my sword by his favourite aid, and my most esteemed friend. Ah, my dear Hamilton, if you knew what I have suffered since the cursed horse came out to tempt me to ruiu." Hamilton, about whose strikingly-intelligent coun- tenance, there always lurked a playful smile, now observed : " Colonel Morgan, his excellency has or 74 dered me to" — " I knew it," interrupted Morgan, " to bid me prepare for trial ! Guilty, sir, guilty, past all doulit. But then, (recollecting himself,) perhaps my services might plead — nonsense; against the disobe- dience of a positive order ? no, no, it is all over with me, Hamilton, there is an end of your old friend, and of Colonel Morgan." The agonized spirit of our hero then mounted to a pitch of enthusiasm as he exclaimed: " But my country will remember my ser- vices, and the British and Hessians will remember me too, for though I may lie far away, my brave com- rades will do their duty, and Morgan's riflemen be, as they always have been, a terrour to the enemy." The noble, the generous souled Hamilton could no longer bear to witness the struggles of the brave un- fortunate, he called out: " Hear me, my dear colonel, only promise to hear me for one moment, and I will tell you all." "Go on, sir," replied Morgan, despairing- ly, " go on." " Then," continued the aiddecamp, " you must know that the commanders of regiments dine with his excellency to-day." " What of that '" again interrupted Morgan, " what has that to do with me, a prisoner and—" " No, no," exclaimed Hamil- ton, " no prisoner, a once-oflending, but now for- given soldier, my orders are to invite you to dine with his excellency to-day at three o'clock, precise- ly ; yes, my brave and good friend. Colonel Morgan, you still are, and likely long to be, the valued and famed commander of the rifle regiment." Morgan sprang from the camp-bed on which he was sitting, and seized the hand of the little great man in his ginnt grasp, wrung and wrung till the aid- decamp literally struggled to get free, then exclaimed: " Am I in my senses, but 1 know you, Hamilton, yon are loo noble a fellow to sport with the feelings of an old soldier." Hamilton assured his friend that all was true, and kissing his hand as he mounted his horse, bid the now delighted colonel remember three o'clock, and be careful not to disobey a second time, galloped to the headquarters. Morgan entered the pavilion of the commander-in- chief as it was fast filling with officers, all of whom, after paying their respects to the general, filed ofl' to give a cordial squeeze of the hand to the commander of the rifle regiment, and to whisper in his ear words of congratulation. The cloth removed, Washington bid his guests fill their glasses, and gave his only, his unvarying toast ; the toast of the days of trial, the toast of the evening of his " time-honoured" life, amid the shades of Mount Vernon : — " All our friends." Then, with his usual oldfashioned polite- ness, he drank to each guest by name. When he came to " Colonel Morgan, your good health, sir," a thrill ran through the manly frame of the grati- fied and again favouilte soldier, while every eye in the pavilion was turned upon him. At an early hour, the company broke up, and Morgan had a perfect escort of officers to accompany him to his quarters, all anxious to congratulate him upon his happy restoration to rank and favour, all pleased to assure him of their esteem for his person and services. And often in his afterlife did Morgan reason up- on the events which we have transmitted to the Americans and their posterity, and he would say, '• What could the unusual clemency of the com- mander-in-chief towards so insubordinate a soldier as 1 was, mean ? Was it that my attacking my enemy wherever I could find him, and the attack being crowned with success, should plead in bar of the disobedience of a positive order ? Certainly not Was it that Washington well knew I loved, nay adored him above all human beings ? That know ledge would not have weighed a feather in the scale of his military justice. In short, the whole affair is explained in five words : It was my first offence !" The clemency of Washington to the first ofl'ence preserved to the army of the revolution one of its most valued and effective soldiers, and had its re- ward in little more than two years from the date of our narrative, when Brigadier-general Morgan con- summated his own fame, and shed an undying lustre on the arms of his country, by the glorious and ever- memorable victory of the Cowpens. Nearly twenty years more had rolled away, and our hero, like most of his companions, had beaten his sword into a ploughshare, and was enjoying in the midst of a domestick circle, the evening of a va- ried and eventful life. When advanced in years, and infirm. Major-general Morgan was called to the su- preme legislature of his country, as a representa- tive from the state of Virginia. It was at this pe- riod, that the author of these memoirs had the honour and happiness of an interview with the old general, which lasted for several days. And the veteran was most kind and communicative to one, who, hail- ing from the immediate family of the venerated chief, found a ready and a warm welcome to the heart of Morgan. And many, and most touching reminis- cences of the days of trial were related by the once- famed leader of the woodmen, which were eagerly devoured and carefully treasured by their youthful and delighted listener, in a memory of no ordinary power. And it was there the unlettered Morgan, a man bred amid the scenes of danger and hardihood that distinguished the frontier warfare, with little book- knowledge, but gifted by nature with a strong and discriminating mind, paid to the fame and memory of the father of our country, a more just, more mag- nificent tribute than, in our humble judgment, has emanated from the thousand and one efforts of the best and brightest geniuses of the age. General Morgan spoke of the necessity of Washington to the army of the revolution, and the success of the strug- gle for independence. He said : " We had ofiicers of great military talents, as for instance, Greene and others ; we had officers of the most consummate courage and enterprise in spirit, as, for instance, Wayne and others. One was yet necessary, to guide, direct and animate the whole, and it pleased Almighty God to send that one in the person ol Gkokge Washington." There is nothing that requires so strict an econ- omy as our benevolence. We should husband our means as the agriculturist his manure, which if he spread over too large a superficies, produces no crop, if over loo small a surface, exuberates in rankness and in weeds. The greatest and the most amiable privilege which the rich enjoy over the poor, is that which they exercise the least— the privilege of making them happy CT^j, 77 EARLY HISTORY OF NEW YORK. Upon the pages of the colonial history of the state of New York, no name appears more con- spicuous as a wise and efficient magistrate, than that of Peter Stuyvesant. He was a man pos- sessed of strong intellectual powers, refined by education, and an amenity of manners connected with firmness and decision of character, which eminently fitted him to be an actor in the exciting scenes which characterized the colonies at the commencement of his administration. When he assumed the reins of government, the colony of the New Netherlands had enemies to contend with on all sides : the Swedes on the south, the English on the east, and the aborigines on the north and west. We will take a brief view of the colony from its first settlement till the conclu- sion of the administration of Stuyvesant. In 161+, a commercial company was formed, called " The Amsterdam Licensed Trading West India Company," designed for making settlements upon the river discovered by Hendrick Hudson the previous year, and for trading with the Indi- ans. Under the auspices of this company, an ex- ploringexpedition was fitted out, which discovered Rhode Island, Connecticut river, and other places in the vicinity of Long Island Sound. The next year a small trading house was erected upon an island below Albany, and a fort built upon the island of Manahatta, (New York,) and upon Jer- sey City Point. The company made at this time an alliance and treaty with five powerful nations of Indians then occupying the country between Manahatta and the great lakes. Between 1617 and 1620, the company planted colonies at Ber- gen, New Jersey ; at Esopus, on the Hudson riv- er ; and at Schenectada, on the Mohawk river, about sixteen miles from Albany. Thus, by con- stantly colonising, the Dutch became possess- ed of the whole Atlantic coast from Delaware to Cape Cod, which territory they termed New Netherlands. In 1619, a sect of Christians, called Puritans, had fled from England to the Low Coun- tries in Holland, on account of persecution. At the head of these was the Reverend John Robin- son. These the Dutch West India Company en- couraged to embark for the new world, notwith- standing they avowed their intention to preserve their nationality here. Toward the close of 1620, they sailed for America, intending to settle and take possession of that portion of the country ly- ing between New York bay and the Connecticut river ; but adverse winds and currents carried them farther eastward, and they landed at a place which they called Plymouth. In 1621, another and more powerful West In- dia company was formed in Holland, into which the Licensed Company vfas merged. This was sustained by the wealth and power of the States general, and under its auspices the settlement of the country rapidly progressed. Cornelius Jaco- bus Mey was sent out in command of a large ex- pedition, and soon after his arrival. Fort Orange was built where Albany now stands, and Fort JVew Amsterdam where the city of New York now stands. In 1623 — '4, the W. I. company fitted out two ships, in one of which was Peter Minuit, the first governor or director of New Netherlands. With him came a colony of Walloons, who settled at the Waal-bocht, (Wallabout,) a bend of the Long Island shore opposite to New Amsterdam. Gov- ernor Minuit, through Isaac de Raiser, his opper koopman, or chief merchant or commissary, very much extended the trade of the company with the Indians, and even attracted dealers from the St. Lawrence near Quebec, and the lakes. Com- modious buildings were erected at New Amster- dam for the officers, soldiers, servants, and slaves of the company, and everything went on flourish- ingly. In 1625, Admiral Heyn, employed in the service of the company, captured twenty Spanish vessels in the bay of Mantanzas, by which he gained booty valued at five millions of dollars. Besides these, the company had, during that year, captured one hundred and four prizes from the Spaniards and Portuguese. All of these success- es rendered the company the richest and most powerful association in the world ; and the States general found it necessary to interpose some re- strictions upon its foreign conquests. In 1629, a council of nine persons was appoint- ed by the States general, to have the general control of the colonies, with the governor at their head, who was a member of the council ex-oficio. They also issued grants to certain individuals, and a charter of liberties and exemptions for pa- troons, masters and private individuals, who should plant colonies in the New Netherlands, and import neat cattle, &c. In a word, the States general took every means to create a political state in North America, subject as a dependan- cy to Holland. Under this charter, several direc- tors of the company made large territorial acqui- sitions, under the title of patroons, among whom was Killian Van Rensselaer, whose descendants still own immense tracts of land in the vicinity of Albany, and retain also the title. These patroons sent out Wouter Van Twiller, a clerk of the Amsterdam department, as general agent of their respective territories. David Pie- terson de Vries, an experienced mariner, was ad- mitted into the association of patroons on an equal footing, and was sent out to plant a colony on the Delaware for the purpose of cultivating grain and tobacco, and establishing whale and seal fisheries. He reached the Delaware in 1630, planted a colony, and soon after returned to Hol- land, leaving the colony in the care of one Osset. But Osset offended the Indians, and the Dutch were all murdered and their buildings burnt to 78 ashes. Thus, not a sing-le European was left upon the shores of the Delaware, twenty-five years after it was discovered. In 1632, Wouter Van Twiller was appointed governor of New Netherlands, in place of Min- uit, and under his administration, affairs went on very prosperously. In 1637, a colony of Swedes, under the auspices of Christina, queen of Swe- den, and daughter of the great Gustavus Adol- phus, landed upon the shores of Delaware bay. They were under the command of Minuit, the Dutch ex-governor, and went busily to work in erecting buildings for dwellings and fortifications upon Cape Henloopen, (Henlopen,) where they first landed. They purchased the soil of the na- tives, from Delaware to the point where the city of Trenton, in New Jersey, now stands. This intrusion, as the Dutch deemed it, awakened their ire and jealousy ; and Kieft, the Dutch gov- ernor who had succeeded Van Twiller, remon- strated with Minuit. The Swedes claimed the right of purchase, and the Dutch set about dispu- ting the right, by erecting a fort upon the Hoeren kill, or Harlot's creek, near the Delaware. In 1640, John Printz, a colonel of cavalry, was appointed governor of the Swedish colony, with full power to ratify the purchase of Minuit, make treaties and in case of hostilities with the Dutch, to maintain his position till the last. But such was not the case, and his whole administration was one of quiet and prosperity. Printz was succeeded by his son-in-law, John Papsego, who, after two years, was succeeded by John Risingh, who presided over the Swedes till they were sub- jugated by the Dutch, under Peter Stuyvesant, in 1654'. This commander, then governor of New Netherlands, though engaged with his English neighbors and enemies of Connecticut, appeared in the Delaware on the ninth of September, 1654', with nearly seven hundred men, and, without bloodshed, reduced all the Swedish posts, and made the colony a part of the New Netherlands. About 1640, the puritans beforementioned, pur- chased of the Indians, lands on the Delaware, but both the Dutch and Swedes considered them intruders, and Kieft and Risingh joined in expel- ling them. About this time, a colony was dis- covered on the Schuylkill, seated under the pat- ent of Lord Baltimore, but their right was also disputed by Kieft, and means were used for ex- pelling them. In 1647, Stuyvesant succeeded Kieft as governor of New Netherlands, and he at once commenced conciliatory measures with the intruders. A great deal of negotiation was carried on for several years, but to little purpose ; and in 1659, Nathaniel Utie, governor of Maryland, demanded possession of the shores of the Dela- ware, by virtue of the patent from the English crown to Lord Baltimore. He at once prepared to use forcible means, and Stuyvesant, firm but cool, resisted all his efforts, by constant negotia- tions through commissioners. In the following year Lord Baltimore made a peremptory demand upon the West India Company, to order their colonists to submit to his superior authority. A peremptory refusal was instantly given, and a war seemed inevitable. But the weakness of Maryland, and the future conquests over the Dutch, contemplated by the English, probably prevented hostilities at that time. Nor were the English and Swedes on the south, the only enemies Avith whom the Dutch had to contend. Those of Connecticut were constantly intruding upon the Dutch boundaries, and during the last five years of Kieft's administration, con- siderable blood had been shed on both sides. The English having been invited thither by the Dutch, with the avowal that they should preserve their nationality, considered themselves independent. They settled upon the banks of the Connecticut, and upon the east end of Long Island, and carri- ed on quite an extensive trade with the Indians, without acknowledging the authority of the Dutch. Such was the case when Kieft was suc- ceeded by the brave old officer, Peter Stuyve- sant, who was commissioned governor-general of Curacoa and the Dutch West Indies. Governor Stuyvesant at once concluded trea- ties of peace and trade with the Indian tribes, and after much negotiation, made an amicable settle- ment of the boundary question with the New England or Connecticut colony. But the efforts of the respective colonies to engross each for themselves the Indian trade, kept up a constant jealousy, and an unfounded report gained cre- dence among the eastern colonies, that the Dutch governor had incited the Indians to massacre the English. Of this charge Stuyvesant gave an indignant denial ; but the New England colonies were not satisfied, and they determined to com- mence a war against the Dutch. They applied to Cromwell, who was then Protector of England, for aid. Cromwell was then at war with Hol- land, and he at once complied with their request. An English squadron for the purpose arrived at Boston, in 1654; but peace soon after being con- cluded between the Protector and the States general, the orders were countermanded, and the squadron returned to England. Although the States general, and the West India Company had openly denied the pretensions of Lord Baltimore, yet they gave Stuyvesant private instructions to retire beyond Baltimore's claimed boundary, in case of hostilities. Stuy- vesant was much chagrined at this exhibition of the weakness of his superiors, and he solicited that a formal copy of the grant made by the States general to the Company, might be trans- mitted to him, that by it, he might efficiently as- sert the interests he was bound to defend. But they were too afraid of English power, to grant this request ; and Stuyvesant willing to propitiate 79 the English by honorable means, sent a commis- sion to Sir William Berkley, governor of Virgin- ia, proposing a commercial treaty. This treaty was formed, but Berkley carefully avoided the recognition of the territorial pretensions of the Dutch, which Stuyvesant hoped to obtain. When Charles II. was restored after the down- fall of Cromwell, the colonists of New Nether- lands hoped for a different policy to be exercised toward them by the crown ; and Stuyvesant seiz- ed every opportunity to propitiate the English court. When the pursuers of Goffe and Whal- ley, the judges who condemned Charles I., re- quested Stuyvesant not to offer them protection, he readily acquiesced, and agreed to prohibit all vessels from transporting them beyond the reach of pursuers. But this policy had no effect, for Charles, from the moment of his restoration, de- termined to bring the Dutch colony in America, under subjection to the British crown. Added to this determination, Charles viewed the New England colonists, the puritans, wilh hatred, for they seemed to him a remnant of that faction, who had murdered his unhappy predecessor, and driven himself into exile ; and he determined to teach them, also, that they were not beyond his reach, even in the new world. Stuyvesant saw the storm that was gathering, and made an un- successful attempt to engage the New England colonies in an alliance with the Dutch, against a common enemy. While he was personally en- gaged in this business, an English fleet approach- ed the coast of the New Netherlands, and the governor was obliged to return in haste to the defence of his province. As an excuse for commencing hostilities, Charles had endeavored, but unsuccessfully, to provoke the States general. His only excuse left was, that the JLngVish first discovered and landed upon various parts of the American shore, and laid claim by this priority, to exclusive jurisdic- tion over the whole. In pursuit of his purpose, he gave to his brother, the Duke of York, a grant dated 1664, entitling him to the whole region from the Delaware to the Connecticut river, with- out any regard to the Dutch settlements, or the previous charter granted to the Connecticut col- ony. Upon this unjust ground, did the English monarch found his excuse for commencing hos- tilities against the New Netherlands. As soon as Stuyvesant heard of the prepara- tions for conquest making by England, he com- municated the alarming intelligence to the States general ; but the only aid they sent him, was the original grant, which they had before denied him. But this was entirely inefficient in combating an expedition so unwarrantable in all its arrange- ments and purposes. The command of the fleet, and the government of the province, were given to Colonel Nichols. The fleet touched at Bos- ton, where an armed force had been ordered to join it, and immediately proceeded to New Am- sterdam. Governor Winthrop of Connecticut, and others, joined the king's standard, and the armament that appeared in New York (then New Amsterdam) bay, consisted of three ships, one hundred and thirty guns, and six hundred men. Governor Stuyvesant was anxious to offer resist- ance, notwithstanding the force was superior to his own; but the peaceful inhabitants regarding the terms of capitulation as exceedingly favora- ble were disposed to surrender at once. For sometime Stuyvesant kept up a negotiation, but to no purpose; and at last an honorable surren- der was made. The capitulation was signed by the Commissioners on the twenty-seventh of Au- gust, 1664, but the governor could not be brought to ratify it by his signature, until nearly two days afterward. Fort Orange surrendered to Colonel Cartright on the twenty-fourth of September, who confirmed the title of Jeremiah Van Rens- selaer, to the manor of Rensselaerwicke. The name of Fort Orange was changed to Albany, and that of New Amsterdam to New York, in honor of the proprietor. Governor Stuyvesant made a voyage to Hoi- land, and on his return, retired to his estate in the Bowery, in the city of New York, where he spent the remainder of his life. At his death, he was interred within a chapel which he had erect- ed upon his own land. He left behind him an untarnished reputation, and his descendants now enjoy the same honorable name and vast posses- sions, bequeathed by this illustrious ancestor. AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY. The following brief memoir of George Clinton, Covernor of New York, we copy from a late number of Ilie New World. It IS from the pen of William W. Campbell)Esq. GEORGE CLINTON. George Clinton was born in ihe precincts of the Highlands in the county of Ulster, near New Windsor, now in the county of Orange, in 1739. His father. Colonel Charles Clinton, was a gentle- man of a highly cultivated mind, and by person- ally superintending the education of his children, supplied that defect of schools which then existed in that sparsely peopled section of country. In early life. George Clinton evinced that spirit of enterprise ^nd energy whiph characterized his so after history. During the French war, and before he had arrived at his majority, we find him at one time on board a cruiser, and at another filliiig^ the station of Lieutenant in a regiment commanded by his father upon the extreme northwestern boundary of tiie state. In the latter capacity he was at the capture of Fort Frontenac. Soon after he entered as a student at law in the office of William Smith, distinguished as the historian of New York, and afterward chief-justice of Canada. In 1767 he was admitted to the bar and com- menced the practice of his profession with great success in Ulster, his native county. Public attention was drawn to him, and in 1768, after a formidable opposition from all the influence of the Crown, he was elected a member of the Colonial Assembly from that county. On the twenty-seventli day of October, he appeared and took his seat, and immediately espoused the colonial cause in that body. On the thirty-first day of December thereafter, the Assembly passed several spirited resolutions, asserting the rights of the Colonial Legislature, and that those rights could not be lawfully abridged by any other power. They were accompanied by petitions, memorials and remonstrances, and led to the dissolution of the Assembly by the Governor, Sir Henry Moore, on the second of January following. On the fourth of April, 1769, George Clinton again appeared and took his seat as a member of the new House of Assembly, then convened ; having again been returned by the inhabitants of Ulster. He continued a member of this Assembly, which was continued by various adjournments and prorogations, down to March, 1775, when on the third of that month, after a warm and anima- ted debate upon the great questions then agitating the country, the Colonial Legislature of New York closed its existence. During all this time he was usefully and actively engaged on the side of the people, and took a large share in the bold and vehement discussions of the times. In May following he appeared as a delegate to the Gene- ral Congress assembled at Philadelphia, and in January, 1776, he attended an adjourned meeting of that body, having been reappointed a member by the Provincial Convention of New York. On the memorable fourth of July, in that year, he was present and supported by his vote the Declaration of Independence ; but having then recently been appointed a Brigadier-General, he was ordereil to the North before that instrument was engrossed, and his name does not therefore appear among the signers. On the twentieth of April, 1777, the State Constitution of New York was adopted, and at the hist election in the summer following, he was elected its first Governor. It was a handsome and a merited tribute to his talents and patriotism, and drew forth warm congratulations from his friends and co-workers in the great cause of civil liberty. But the office, to which the partiality and confidence of his fellow-citizens had elevated him, was one of great difficulty and responsibility, and was perhaps the most arduous and important of any in the new Empire, with the exception of that of the commander-in-chief. When the first Legislature convened at Kingston, the whole of the southern part of the State was in the posses- sion of the enemy. The people in the north- eastern section, now the state of Vermont, were distracted by treasonable operations among them. A numerous army under General Bur- goyne was enterini: the state upon the north, and large bodies of soldiers and Indians were endeav- oring to force their way down the valley of the Mohawk. Under such circumstances the Legislature convened and the Supreme Court held its first regular terra. In a letter dated September the eighteenth, in that year, Governor Clinton in writing to the delegates in Congress, says — " our Legislature have been upon business for a week past — both houses are pretty full, and I have the greatest hopes that the new machine will work well. The first term of our Supreme Court ended last week, on Saturday. It was held with great order and decorum, and I have the pleasure to assure you that the people seem happy under a properly or- ganized government."' A part only of the plan of the enemy in the campaign of 1777 had developed itself at the as- sembling of the Legislature. While Burgoyne was endeavoring to force his way from Canada, Sir Henry Clinton, with a strong force, left New York with a view of passing up the Hudson and forming a junction with him at or near Albany. Such a junction would have severed the Union and jeoparded the liberties of the country. It was a critical period for the state, and called for all the energy and firmness of him who had been elected its Chief jMagistrate. Governor Clinton immediately, upon learning the designs of the enemy, prorogued the Legislature, and issuing orders for ihe assembling of the militia, threw himself with a handful of men, into the forts which commanded the passes of the Highlands. The actual as well as the nominal head of the militia, he considered the post of danger as his own. Tlie militia had, however, been harassed and worn out with the fatigues of the summer. Many of them had gone to the north, and others had re- turned to their homes ; so that on the sixth of October only six hundred men, continentals and miliiia,were in the forts Montgomery and Clinton. On that day an attack was made upon both of these forts by the army under Sir Henry Clinton, numbering by estimate four thousand men. The attack lasted from ten o'clock until dark. About an hour before sunset Governor Clinton was summoned to surrender fort Montgomery in five minutes, " but his gallant spirit sternly refused to obey the call." An incessant fire was then kept up until dark, when as the night closed in, a vio- lent assault was made, which was received by the Americans with undismayed courage. But their resistance was in vain. Overpowered by num- bers, they were forced to yield, and the lines and redoubts were carried by the enemy, at the point of the bayonet. Many of the Americans fought their way out — others mixed with the enemy and escaped by reason of the daikncss. Governor Clinton, availing himself of his knowledge of the country, succeeded in crossing the river and re- tiring to a place of safety. No one regretted the loss of these important 81 posts move than Governor Clinton himself. In a letter to General Washington, dated October the ninth, 1777, after adverting to the ineffectual efforts which he had made to collect the militia, and stating that he had not been properly rein- forced, he concludes by saying: — " I have only to add that where great losses are sustained, how- ever unavoidable, public censure is generally the consequence to those who are immediately con- cerned. If in the present instance this should be the case, I wish, so far as relates to the loss of Fort Montgomery and its dependances, it may fall on me alone, for I would be guilty of the greatest injustice, were I not to declare that the officers and men under me, of the different corps, behaved with the greatest spirit and bravery." No censure, however, rested upon him or upon the men under his command. Under all the cir- cumstances, the defence was considered a brave and gallant one, and drew from General Gates and other officers, letters of high commendation. Immediately after the loss of the forts. Gover- nor Clinton collected together the scattered troops and militia and watched the movements of the enemy until their return to New York. He wrote to General Gates desiring him to order down some part of the army under his command to form a junction with him, by which he might prevent the advance of Sir Henry Clinton upon Albany. The subsequent events of the campaign rendered such a movement unnecessary. During the remainder of the war, Governor Clinton continued at the head of the State of New York as its chief magistrate, and divided his time between the discharge of his duties to the State and to the Union. He enjoyed, in an eminent degree, the confidence and friendship of General Washington. In May, 1779, the latter in writing to him says : — " The readiness with which you comply with all my requests in prosecution of the public service, has a claim to my warmest ac- knowledgements." After the war, when General Washington had retired to his seat at Mount Vernon, he continued a correspondence with Governor Clinton, in which he manifested anew his warm regard for him. In a letter, dated at Mount Vernon, December twenty- eighth, 1783, he says : — "I am now a private citi- zen, on the banks of the Potomac, where I shall be happy to see you if your public business would ever permit, and where, in the meantime, I shall fondly cherish the remembrance of all your former friendship. Although I scarcely need tell you how much I have been satisfied with every in- stance of your public conduct, yet I could not suffer Colonel Walker to depart for New York, without giving your Excellency one more testi- mony of the obligations I consider myself under, for the spirited and able assistance I have often derived from the state under your administration. The scene is at last closed. I feel myself eased of a load of public care. I hope to spend the re- mainder of my days in cultivating the affections of good men, and in the practice of the domestic virtues. Permit me still to consider you in the number of my friends, and to wish you every felicity." In the following year, Governor Clinton, 11 in company with General Washington, made a tour through the State of New York, and, passing up the valley of the Mohawk, visited some of the scenes which have been rendered memorable by the contests and privations and trials of the war which had then recently terminated. They were everywhere received with the attention and re- spect to which their eminent stations and distin- guished virtues entitled them. During that tour, the capabilities of New York for inland navigation formed a prominent subject of investigation and inquiry. They examined the carrying places between the Mohawk and Wood Creek, and between the former river and the sources of the Susquehanna. Even then may have been shadowed to their minds the dim out- line of that great enterprise which has identified the illustrious nephew of Governor Clinton with the internal improvement of the state. In 1788, George Clinton was unanimously chosen president of the convention which met to deliberate upon the new Constitution of the Union. He was six times elected Governor.and filled that office for eighteen years. In 1804 he was elected Vice-President of the United States, in which distinguished station he continued until his death, which took place on the twentieth of April, 1812, at the city of Washington. While Governor, his administration was characterized by integrity, energy, and a vigilant attention to the public in- terests. As Vice-President he presided with dignity and firmness, and in all his relations in life sustained the character of an excellent man and a good citizen. The few aged people who yet survive, and who shared with him the toils and trials of war, and the perplexities and diffi- culties attendant upon the organization of a new government, still hold him in fond remembrance. The pioneers to the western part of the State shared largely in his kindest sympathies and good wishes, and were often the objects of his benev- olence and care. In the words of De Witt Clinton, " As a public character, he will live in the veneration of pos- terity, and the progress of time will thicken the laurels that surround his monument. The char- acteristic virtues which distinguished his life ap- peared in full splendor in the trying hour of death, and he died, as he lived, without fear and without reproach." ROBERT FULTON. Mr. Fulton is acknowledged to have been among the most distinguished men of his age. His successful exertions to furnish a means of trans- portation which " brings the inhabitants of the world nearer each other," have shed upon his name a lus- tre that must be visible to the latest posterity. We do not propose here to examine how closely the ef- forts of his genius are connected with the happiness of mankind, even where they seem most remote, but simply to afford a brief sketch of his life as an accompaniment to his portrait. Robert Fulton was bom in the town of Little Britain, in the county of Lancaster, state of Penn- sylvania, in the year 1765, of a respectable though not opulent family. He was the third child and eldest son. His peculiar genius manifested itself at 82 ROBERT FULTON. Froiu a Painting l»y Ininan. an early age, in an irrepressible taste for drawing and mechanism. At the age of twenty-one he was intimate with Franklin. He had previously painted portraits and landscapes in Philadelphia, and deriv- ed considerable profit from it. Soon after he sailed for England, with the view of seeking Mr. West's assistance in the prosecution of his art. That great painter took him into his family, where he remained several years. In 1793, Mr. Fulton was actively en- gaged in a project to improve inland navigation. Even at that time he had conceived the idea of pro- pelling vessels by steam. In 1804, he had acquired much valuable information upon the subject, and written it down, as well as much concerning his own life, and sent many mamiscripts from Paris to this country, but the vessel was wrecked and most of the papers destroyed. About this period the suliject of canals seems to have been the principal object of his attention, altliough he made many valuable inven- tions, and wrote numerous essays, characterized by strong talent and deep knowledge. His works were not indeed confined to scienlifick lopicks, but he fur- nished other essays which were greatly praised. The characteristick features of his mind were ardour and perseverance. When Napoleon held the power of France, Mr. Fulton engaged in several schemes under the auspices of the first consul, for an account of which, we refer the reader to the Memoir of Mr. Cadwallader D. Golden. In 1806, Mr. Fulton em- barked at Falmouth, and arrived at New York, by way of Halifax, on the thirteenth of December. Upon his arrival in this country, he immediately commenced his arduous exertions in the cause of practical science, and among other subjects which occupied his mind, was that of steam navigation. Ho had been long engaged in Europe in an attempt to introduce a vessel or torpedo to be used in war, for the purposes of destroying the marine enemy. Here is a curious anecdote of him at this time : — " He had not been landed in America a month, before he went to the seat of government, to propose to the administration to enable him to prosecute a set of experiments with his torpedoes. He found ^ll. Madison, then secretary of state, and the secretary of the na'-y, Mr. Smith, much disposed to encourage his attempts, the success of which Mr. Fulton, by his ingenious models and drawings, with his lucid and engaging mode of lecturing upon them, made appear so probable. The government authorized a certain expenditure to be made, under the direction of Mr. Pulton, for this purpose. In the mean time, anxious to prepossess his countrymen with a good opinion of his project, he invited the magistracy of New ^ork, and a number of citizens, to Goveniour's Island, where were the torpedoes and the machinery, with which his experiments were to be made ; these, with the manner m which they were to be used, and were expected to operate, he explained very fully. \Miilc he was lecturing on his blank torpedoes, which were large empty copper cvlmders, his nu- merous auditors crowded round him. At length he turned to a copper case of the same description, which was placed under the gateway of the I'ort, and to which was attached a clockwork lock. This, by drawing out a peg, he set in motion, and then he said to his attentive audience, ' Gentlemen, this is a charged torpedo, with wliich precisely in its present state, I mean to blow up a vessel ; it contains one hundred and seventy pounds of gunpowder ; and if I were to suffer the clockwork to run fifteen minutes, I have no doubt but that it would blow this fortifica- tion to atoms.' The circle round Mr. Fulton was very soon much enlarged, and before five of the fif- teen minutes were out, there were but two or three persons remaining under the gateway ; some, indeed, lost no time in getting at the greatest possible dis- tance from the torpedo, with their best speed, and did not again appear on the ground, till they were assured it was lodged in the magazine, whence it had been taken, and did not seem to feel themselves quite safe, as long as they were on the island. The conduct of Mr. Fulton's auditors was not very extra- ordinary or unnatural ; but his own composure indi- cated the confidence with which he handled these terrible instruments of destruction, and the reliance he had on the accuracy of the performance of his machinery. The apprehension of the company sur- prized, but amused him, and he took occasion to re- mark, how true it was, that fear frequently arose from ignorance." At what time Mr. Fulton's mind was first directed to steam navigation, is not distinctly known, but even in 1793 he had matured a plan in which he reposed great confidence. No one previously to Mr. Fulton, had constructed a steam-boat in any other way than as an unsuccessful experiment. Although many dis- pute his right to the honour of the discovery, none have done so with any semblance of justice. Among those of his own countrymen who had previously made unsuccessful attempts to render the force of steam subservient to praitical and useful purposes, was Mr. Livingston. " While he devoted much of his own time and talents to the advancement of science, and the pro- motion of the public good, he was fond of fostering the discoveries of others. The resources of his ample fortune were afforded with great liberality, whenever he could apply them, to he support and encouragement of genius. " He entertained very clear conceptions of wha) 83 woulu be the great advantages of steam-boats, on the large and extensive rivers of the United States. He nad applied liimself with uncommon perseverance, and at great expense, to constructing vessels and machinery lor that kind of navigation. As early as seventeen hundred and ninety-eight, he believed that he had accoiiiphshed hi.s object, and represented to the legislature of the stale of New York, that he was possessed of a mode of applying the steam- engine to propel a boat on new and advantageous principles ; but he was deterred from carrying it into effect, by the uncertainty and hazard of a very ex- pensive experiment, unless he could be assured of an exclusive advantage from it, should it be found successful. " The legislature in March, 1798, passed an act vestino' Mr. Livingston with the exclusive right and privilege of navigating all kinds of boats which might be propelled by the force of fire or steam, on all the waters within the territory or jurisdiction of the state of New York, for a term of twenty years from the passing of the act ; upon condition that he should within a twelvemonth build such a boat, the mean of whose progress should not be less than four miles an hour. " The bill was introduced into the house of as- sembly by Dr. Mitchell, he then being a representa- tive from this city. ' Upon this occasion,' says Dr. Mitchell, in a letter with which he has favoured nie, ' the wags and the lawyers in the house were gener- ally opposed to my bill. I had to encounter all their jokes, and the whole of their logick. One main ground of their objection was, that it was an idle and whimsical project, unworthy of legislative attention.' " A venerable friend, who was a member of the senate at that time, has described the manner in which this application from Mr. Livingston was re- ceived by the legislature. He said it was a stand- ing subject of ridicule throughout the session, and whenever there was a disposition in any of the younger members to indulge a little levity, they would call up the steam-boat bill, that they might divert themselves at the expense of the project and its advocates. " Mr. Livingston, immediately after the passage of this act, built a boat of about thirty tuns' burden, which was propelled by steam ; but as she was in- competent to fulfil the condition of the law, she was abandoned, and he for the time relinquished the project. " Though Mr. Livingston, previously to his con- nexion with Mr. Fulton, had done more than any other person towards establishing steara-boats, and though his experiments had been more expen- sive, and more successful, than any we have heard of, yet he was not among those who founded, on their fruitless attempts, a claim to be the inventors of navigation by steam, and whose opposition to Mr. Fulton has been very generally in proportion to the variety and ill success of their schemes. The worst project has generally been the most expensive, and on that account the worst projector seems to have considered his claim as the highest. '■ On the contrary, Mr. Livingston availed himself of every opportunity of acknowledging Mr. Fulton's merits ; and when he was convinced that Mr. Ful- ton's experiments had evinced the justness of his principles, they entered into a contract, by which it was, among other things, atjreed, that a patent should be taken out in the United States, in Mr. Fulton's name, which Mr. Livingston well knew could not be done without Mr. Fulton's taking an oath that the improvement was solely his. " In the American Medical and Philosophical Register, there is a piece published under the title of ' An Historical Account of the Application of Steam for the Propelling of Boats.' This was drawn up by Mr. Livingston, and addressed to Doctors Ho- sack and I-^ancis, the editors of that journal. He very candidly acknowledges that all his efforts had been unavailing. He explains the nature of the con- nexion between him and Mr. Fulton, and shows what part that gentleman performed in the experi- ments which led to the accomplishment of their ob- ject. As this account, from Chancellor Livingston himself, must be very satisfactory, we shall present a part of it in an extract from the learned and valua- ble work we have just mentioned. "'Robert R. Livingston, Esq. when minister in France, met with Mr. Fulton, and they formed that friendship and connexion with each other, to which a similarity of pursuits generally gives birth. He communicated to Mr. Fulton the importance of steam-boats to their common country ; informed him of what had been attempted in America, and of his resolution to resume the pursuit on his return, and advised him to turn his attention to the subject. It was agreed between them to embark in the enter- prise, and immediately to make such experiments as would enable them to determine how far, in spite of former failures, the object was attainable : the prin- cipal direction of these experiments was left to Mr. Fulton, who united, in a very considerable degree, practical to a theoretical knowledge of mechanicks. '"After trying a variety of experiments on a small scale, on models of his own invention, it was under- stood that he had developed the true principles upon which steam-boats should be built, and for the want of knowing which, all previous experiments had failed. But as these two gentlemen both knew, that many things which were apparently perfect when tried on a small scale, failed when reduced to prac- tice upon a large one, they determined to go to the expense of building an operating boat upon the Seine. This was done in the year 1803, at their joint expense, under the direction of Mr. Fulton ; and so fully evinced the justness of his principles, that it was immediately determined to enrich their country by the valuable discovery, as soon as they should meet there, and in the meantime to order an engine to be made in England. On the arrival at New Y'ork of Mr. Fulton,' which was not till 1806, they immediately engaged in huilding a boat of, what was then thought, very considerable dimensions. " ' Tliis boat began to navigate the Hudson river in 1807; its progress through the water was at the rate of five miles an hour. " ' In the course of the ensuing winter, it was en- larged to a boat of one hundred and forty feet keel, and sixteen and a half feet beam. The legislature of the state were so fully convinced of the great utility of the invention, and of the interest the state had in its encouragement, that they made a new contract with Mr. Livingston and Mr. Fulton, by which they extended the term of their exclusive right, five years to every additional boat they should 84 build ; provided the whole term should not exceed thirty years ; in consequence of whicli, they have added two boats to the North river boat ; (besides those that have been built by others under their license,) the Car of Neptune, which is a beautiful vessel of about three hundred tuns' burden, and the Paragon of three hundred and iifty tuns.' " It is well known, that this great man, after having devoted his time and genius to the service of his country and of mankind, was harassed by lawsuits and controversies with those who were violating his patent rights, or intruding upon his exclusive grants. Laws had been passed by the New York legislature, for the protection of the right of Livingston and Fultsn, and for the promotion of their pecuniary re- muneration, but bold attempts were made for their repeal. A petition to that effect was submitted to a committee, who handed in a report, which conclud- ed by proposing a bill containing such provisions as might in their opinion be passed consistently with the faith, honour, and justice of the state. " The proposed bill declared that nothing in the acts passed in favour of Livingston and Fulton, should be so construed as to affect the right which any persons might have to use the invention of the steam-boat, or any improvement thereon, which had been, or might thereafter be, patented under the laws of the United States ; provided, that in such use, they did not interfere with any invention, or improve- ment, lawfully secured by the prior acts, or any of them. " It is to be observed that this provision is a mere nuUity ; none of the acts referred to by it, did secure, or even pretend to secure, any invention ; so that the law proposed by the committee was in effect an en- lire repeal of the exclusive grants to Livingston and Fulton ; and Daniel Dod, with his patented ap- plication of the engine to cranks, or any other pa- tentee equally meritorious, might, if the law had passed, have freely navigated the waters of this state by steam. " When Livingston and Fulton had spent an im- mense sum of money in the establislnnent of their magnificent boats — when they had not realized a cent for their enterprise — but, on the contrary, were largely in debt on that account, this law was recom- mended to the legislature as one that might be pass- ed consistently with good faith, honour, and justice! " Fpon this report being made to the house, it was prevailed upon to be less precipitate than the com- mittee had been. It gave time, which the connnit- tee would not do, for Mr. Fulton to be sent lor from New York. The senate and assembly in joint ses- sion examined witnesses, and heard him, ami the petitioner, by counsel. The result was, that the legislature refused to repeal the prior law, or to pass any act on the subject. •' It was upon this occasion that his friend, Mr. Emmet, who appeared as his counsel at the bar of the house, at the conclusion of his speech, made tliat address to Fulton, which has been so much spoken of, and which was at once such an evidence of warmth of heart, rectitude of principle, and of superiour abihties. We do not pretend to give it in the very words he made use of, nor can it now have the efTect, which his oratory and circumstances pro- duced when it was delivered ; but so far as it is in Qur power, we will endeavour to preserve it, as a just tribute to our departed friend, and as a memorial of the abilities of his advocate. " Mr. Emmet, having said that he had concluded the observations which he proposed to make, as well against the petition, as the report of the committee ; and that he had submitted their force with respectful confidence to the deliberation of the legislature, turn- ed towards Mr. Fulton, and addressed him as fol- lows : — ' I know and feel, and I rejoice in the con- viction, that, for the present at least your interests, my friend, are perfectly secure ; but do not, there- fore, flatter yourself that you will be involved in no future difficidties on the same account. Those whom I have just addressed, will certainly decide with en- lightened liberality and a scnipulous regard to pub- lick faith ; but their power and authority will pass away. Y^our present antagonist, I also hope, will become convinced by this discussion, of the impro- priety of his application, and refrain from repeating it ; but interest and avarice will still raise up against you many enemies. You rely too implicitly on the strength of your rights, and the sanctity of the obli- gations on which they are founded. You expect too much from your well-earned reputation, and the ac- knowledged utilityto mankind of your life and labours. You permit your mind to be engrossed with vast and noble plans for the publick good. You are incon- siderately sinking your present income, in the exten- sion of publick accommodation, by steam-boais. You are gratuitously giving your time and talents to the construction of that great national object, your stupendous invention for maritime defence, which in itself is calculated to eflect a revolution in naval warfare. Y^ou are profusely lavishing what the in- tense and unremitted study of years has acquired for you, in investigations and experiments tending to the same purpose. Your knowledge and your fortune are freely bestowed upon every thing that can con- tribute to the advancement of science, or of the ele- gant and useful arts. I admire and applaud you for your readiness to devote to the service of the pub- lick, the opulence you derive from its grateful re- nuineration. Let me remind you, however, that you have other and closer ties. I know the pain I am about to give, and I see the tears I make you shed — but by that love I speak — by that love, which, like the light of heaven, is refracted in rays of different strength upon your wife and children ; which when collected and combined, forms the sunshine of your soul ; by that love I do adjure you, provide in time for those dearest objects of your care. Think not I would instil into your generous mind a mean or sor- did notion ; l)Ul now, thai wealth is passing through your hands, let me entreat you, hoard it while you have it. Artful speculators will assuredly arise, with patriotism on their tongues, and selfishness in their hearts, who mav mislead some future legislature by false and crafty declamations against the prodigality of their predecessors — who, calumniating or con- cealing your merits, will talk loudly of your monop- olv — who will represent it as a grievous burden on the community, and not a compensation for signal benelits ; who will exaggerate your fortune, and pro- pose, in the language of Marat to the French con- vention, " Let the scythe, of equality move over the republick." In a moment of delusion, (unless some department of our government shall constitutionally ; interpose an adamantine barrier against national per- 85 lidy and injustice,) such men may give your property 10 the winds, and your person to your creditors. Then, indeed, those who know your worth and ser- vices, will speak of your downfall, as of that porten- tous omen, wliich marked a people's degradation, and the successful crime of an mtruder : — A falcon, towering in his pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed. Yes, my friend ! my heart bleeds while I utter it ; but I have fearful forebodings that you may hereafter find in publick faith a broken stafl' for youi support, and receive from publick gratitude, a broken heart for your reward.' " In January, 1815, Mr. John R. Livingston, who owned the steam-boat which plied between New York and New Jersey, but which was stopped by the operation of the Jersey laws, petitioned the leg- islature of that state for their repeal. After hearing witnesses and counsel for several days, the laws were rescinded. On this occasion Mr. Fulton was examined as a witness. The weather while he was at Trenton, where he was much exposed in attend- ing the hall of the legislature, was uncoramorJy cold. When he was crossing the Hudson to return to his house and family, the river was very full of ice, which occasioned his being several hours on the water in a verj' severe day. Mr. Fulton had not a constitution to encounter such an exposure, and upon his return he found himself much indisposed from the effects of it. He had at that time great anxiety about the steam-frigate, and after confining himself for a few days, when he was convalescent, he went to give his superintendence to the artificers employ- ed about her : he forgot his debilitated state of health in the interest he took in what was doing on the frigate, and was a long time, in a bad day, ex- posed to the weather on her decks. He soon found the effects of this imprudence. His indisposition returned upon him with such violence as to confine him to his bed. His disorder increased, and on the twenty-fourth day of February, 1815, terminated his valuable life." We have already availed ourselves of the work of Mr. Golden. We shall conclude this outline biography by that gentleman's picture of Mr. Fulton's private circumstances, manners, appearance and character. " Mr. Fulton, in contributing his proportion to the establishment of the magnificent boats on the Hud- son, each of which cost from forty to sixty thousand, and the last one which has been built, upwards of a hundred thousand dollars, expended immense sums of money. The experiments he was always making, required very large disbursements, and the lawsuits in which he was incessantly engaged, from the mo- ment his boats were seen in successful operation, were very expensive. From his patents he never derived the advantage of a single cent ; but, on the contrary, in consequence of the misconduct or mis- take of some of the agents he employed to construct boats to run under his patent right, and which he had contracted to furnish to some steam-boat companies, he was involved in losses to a very great amount. Owing to these circumstances, though he lived with- out ostentation or extravagance, he left his estate most excessively involved. His patent rights are so far expired, that if the law had afforded a protection which would ever have rendered them of any value they would now be worth nothing ; and althougii Mr. Fulton has not lived to see the fulfilment of the an- ticipations of Mr. Emmet, yet, certain it is, that un- less some stability be given to the exclusive grants from this state, the only patrimony of his children will be, that load of debt which their parent con- tracted in those pursuits that ought to command the gratitude, as they do the admiration of mankind. " Mr. Fulton was about six feet high. His person was slender, but finely proportioned, and well form- ed. Nature had made him a gentleman, and bestow- ed upon him ease and gracefulness. He had too much good sense for the least affectation ; and a modest confidence in his own worth and talents, gave him an unembarrassed deportment in all com- panies. His features were strong and of a manly beauty : he had large dark eyes, and a projecting brow, expressive of intelligence and thought : his temper was mild and his disposition lively : he was fond of society, wliich he always enlivened by cheerful, cordial manners, and instructed or pleased by his sensible conversation. He expressed himself with energy, fluency, and correctness, and as he owed more to his own experience and reflections than to books, his sentiments were often interesting from their originality. " In all his domcstick and social relations he was zealous, kind, generous, liberal, and affectionate. He knew of no use for money but as it was subser- vient to charity, hospitality, and the sciences. But what was most conspicuous in his character, was his calm constancy, his industry, and that indefatiga- ble patience and perseverance, which always enabled him to overcome difficulties. "He was decidedly a republican. The deter- mination which he often avowed, that he would never accept an office, is an evidence of that disin- terestedness of his politicks ; but his zeal for his opinions or party did not extinguish his kindness for the merits of his opponents. Society will long re- member and regret him ; but he will be most lament- ed by those by whom he was best known." STANZAS. And b.inls bum what they call their miJnight taper, To gain, wheij the original is dust, A name."— Bi/rort. What is it 7 Fancy's glittering crown, That lures the young aspirant on, The laurel chaplet of renown, That's gaine^ ' In the January court-term 1791, Mr. Golden was licensed as an attorney ; and from Governour George Glinton he received a commission as a publick nota- ry. Mr. Golden had practised law in the city of New York but a short time, when he removed to Poughkeepsie, in the county of Dutchess. He re- mained there pursuing his profession with great in- dustry and success, until the year 1796, when he again returned to the city of New York, and re- sumed his station at the bar. He about this time received the appointment of district-attorney, and by his zeal, talents and indus- try, laid the foundation of his future fame and suc- cess. His excellent biographer in the New York Mirror, remarking on this period of his life, ob- serves, " Mr. Golden's intense application to busi- ness, in the course of a few years, most seriously impaired his health, and he embarked for France in the spring of 1803, as his friends supposed in the last stage of consumption. A residence of about eighteen months in France and Switzerland, and other places on the continent, restored him to health ; and he returned home al the close of the year 1804, and found his clients and friends already waiting to give him their business and offer their congratula- tions." The same candid writer farther very hon- estly and frankly remarks : " For a young man to attain distinction at the New York bar, when his competitors were such men as Richard Harrison, Samuel Jones, sen., Alexander Hamilton and Brock- hoist Livingston, was no easy task. Mr. Golden, however, thoroughly disciplined his vigorous and active mind, grappled with difficulties which beset him, and overcame them. His success was flatter- .05 ing in the extreme ; for it was not many years be- adjuturs during that critical and alarming crisis in fore he stood as a commercial lawyer at the head of; our affairs. In 1618, he was elected to the House his profession, while in other branches of it lie al- l of Assembly, and during that year was also appoint- ways ranked anion" the first." As an evidence ! ed mayor of the city of JN'ew York. It was then part amono- many others which might be cited, of the ! of the duties of the mayor to preside in the munici- great amount of business which poured in upon him, it has been stated, that he has argued every cause on one side or the other, that was heard in the su- preme court for a week : he also had at some of the New York circuits, sixty or more causes. It deserves to be recorded to his high honour, that his system of law-ethicks to which he rigidly ad- hered, was of the purest kind. His intercourse with his prol'essional brethren was courteous and frater- nal. He treated his juniors with urbanity and kind- ness, and never evinced toward his compeers or sen- ior.s, the feeling of envy or uncharitableness. His professional fame, therel'ore, was a brilliant one, and siich as few comparatively ever obtain. Soon after he began to practice in New York, he became con- nected with the i\Ianumission Society, and was for a long time its President. On every requisite oc- casion, he lent to it his powerful professional servi- ces, with a total disregard of all sordid results. As a friend to the young aspirants to professional dis- tinction, to genius in the arts or sciences, and to all who were governed by a laudable impulse, he al- ways liberally imparted his councils, his hospital- ities, and if requisite, pecuniary aid. AVhat he has said of his intimate friend Fulton, in his biography of this eminent man, may with the strictest truth be said of himself. " In all his domestick and social relations, he was zealous, generous, liberal and af- fectionate. He knew of no use for money but as it was subservient for charity, hospitality and the sci- ences." His biographer, to whom we are so largely in- debted for the materials of this sketch, thus adverts to the labours of Mr. Golden, which were more par- ticularly of a publick nature. During the late war with Great Britain, Mr. Colden's professional en- gagements (says he) were so numerous, that it was conceded by every one conversant with the subject, that his business was worth more than that of any other member of the profession in the state. He relinquished the most of it, however, that he might j devote a portion of every day to military service. He commanded a regiment of volunteers, and was extremely active and useful in helping in the erec- tion of fortifications for the defence of the city. His time, his influence, his pen and his money, were tendered to his country. His example was of I signal benefit : so much so, that the patriot Tomp- 5 kins spoke of it with a warmth of feeling, and an ; earnestness of manner, that showed that he con- . sidered Mr. Golden as one of his most efficient co- 14 pal courts, and although he was the immediate suc- cessor of De Witt Glinton in that office, his opin- ions and conduct as a judge, fully sustained the high reputation of the court. In 1822, Mr. Golden was elected to Gongress, and proved himself a useful and distinguished member of that body. In 1824, he was elected to the Senate of the state of New York, which office he held for three years, when a regard to other paramount duties led him to resign. As a debater in that very respectable body, he was always listened to with attention, and his opinions as a member of the court for the Gorrection of Errours, are characterized by a vigour, clearness and legal discrimination, that entitle them to pecu- liar consideration. Untiring industry and patient research, marked him in all his proceedings, equally in the several legislative bodies of which he was a member, as in the severest responsibilities of his private professional business. The subject of education was one on which Mr. Golden bestowed much reflection, and he lent through his whole life his aid to all those institutions, which had for their object the moral and intellectual cul- ture of youth. The publick-schools in the city of New York, can number him among their most active and efficient founders. He was conspicuous among the most active in devising a plan for the reformation of juvenile delinquents, and was afterward president of the society incorporated for that important object. He reflected much on the subject of prison disci- pline, and was instrumental in making many valuable suggestions for the reformation of convicts. For many years he was one of the governours of the New York hosjiital. Various and serviceable as his efforts for the ben- efit of his native state and country thus appear, he challenges our approbation for his pertormance of still more important acts. He is recognised as one of the earliest and most efficient promoters of that great system of internal improvement which is now the pride and boast of the state of New York. We find his name recorded in the list of names affixed to the celebrated memorial on the subject bearing date February, 1816. The great meeting on that occasion was held in the city of New York, and Mr. Golden was on the committee of corre- spondence. In the history of the Erie canal, pub- lished by order of the Legislature, we find his name often recorded as associated with measures eminent- ly conducive to the accomplishment of that vast un- dertaking. After the completion of the canal, he 106 wrote as is well known, the Memoir on the subject, which VI as published by the common coimoil ofthe^iity. His publick services after he withdrew from the Senate, in 1827, were next devoted to superintend- ing the construction of the Morris canal, which con- nects the waters of the Delaware river with the wa- ters of the bay of New York. It would require a large space to detail the many discouraging and for- iTiidable difBculties he had to encounter in the work : suffice it 10 say, he on this occasion, as on every other of his life, was not intimidated, but steadily persevered to the satisfactory completion of the great task : it is familiarly known that the Morris canal has demonstrated the practicability of using planes for locks. The records of jurisprudence must be consulted in order to ascertain the nature of his legal opinions and decisions. His Life of his friend, Robert Ful- ton, is his most extensive literary enterprise. In this volume, which was read by him before the New York Literary and Philosophical Society, and pub- lished by that association with the laudable inten- tion of erecting some memorial in honour of this em- inent and successful experimental philosopher, Mr. Golden has evinced the warmth of his affection, and treated with a judicious consideration the gen- erous and patriotick services of that illustrious man. The elaborate document which he drew up at the request of the corporation of New York, embracing the origin, progress, and completion of the great canal which connects Lake Erie with the Hudson river, will ever be consulted by the historian who seeks for authenlick knowledge on matters of that nature. Tlie last effort of his pen, was a letter on a singularly interesting subject, the insanity of the late famous orator of France, Count St. Jean D'An- gelly, an exile in America, in 1817. This paper of peculiar importance to the medical jurist, may be found in the life of the late Thomas Eddy, recently published by Col. Knapp. Mr. Golden contempla- ted the publication of the writings of the late Lieut- enant-governour Gadwallader Golden, in a series of volumes, with an original life drawn from materials in his possession : but he made only partial advan- ces in the undertaking. Mr. Golden died on the 7th of February, 1834, at his house in Jersey city, which he had made his res- idence for several years. He was married to Miss Maria Provoost, second daughter of the Right Rev. Samuel Provoost, D. D., the first protestant bishop of New York. By this lady, who died in 1837, he had one son, David G. Golden. The writer of Mr. Colden's life, to which we have already more than once referred, and to whom we are so largely indebted for this account, thus justly sums up his character : " The ruling, para- mount, and impelling motive seemed to be, to make himself useful to his fellow-men. An allusion has already been made to the ardour and fidelity with which he discharged his professional duties ; and these were also the characteristicks of all his other labours. Whether he was in the service of his friends, his clients, or his country, he evinced a dis- interestedness and devotion, rarely if ever surpass- ed. The prominent traits in his character, cannot, perhaps be better designated, than by applying to him what has recently been said of another, that he possessed an ' energy, activity, and philanthropy, which led him to regard none of the great concerns of mankind as foreign to himself!' " He never condemned anything because it was new, for he disclaimed all connexion with the para- doxical set of men, who seem to hold, that an old errour is better than a new truth. If he were some- times called a projector, let it be borne in mind, that all his projects had for their object the benefiting of others rather than himself. As a jurist and civilian, he ranked with men whose professional fame we justly prize as a part of the moral property of the state. As a theoretical mechanick and engineer, his enjoyment of the confidence, and sharing in the consultations of Fulton, attest his powers. The nu- merous institutions he was instrumental in forming and sustaining, added to his deeds of charily, give full proof of his claims to the character of a phi- lanthropist. In the domestick and social relations of life, he ever evinced an affection and kindness that rendered him a safe pattern for imitation. As a pub- lick speaker, he infused into his discourses a pathos and force that seized and held the deep attention of his auditors." A beautiful marble monument has lately been erected in Grace church, New York, to the memory of this distinguished and lamented citizen. It is placed under the south gallery, and nearly opposite to one of Frazee's earliest works of the same kind, the monument of Mr. Colden's friend and rival at the bar, the eloquent and noble-minded John Wells. The inscription was written by the Hon. Gulian C. Verplanck ; it is as follows :- "to the memory of gadwallader d. colden. For several years Mayor of this City, a Senator of this State, and one of its representatives in the (^ongress of the U. S. His talents and publick services added lustre To these and many other Honours and trusts bestowed unon liim by his native city. He was alike eminent for le^^al iearniny and eloquence, For ardent love and pursuit of general science, And for the successful application of all his acquirements To the best interests of his country. .^8 his Piiilanthropy and Patriotism Commanded the confidence and attachment of hisfellow-citizeni So his Kindness, Frankness, and Generosity Won the warm afTections of Ins family and of numerous friends By one of whom, who had witnessed most nearly, And, thereflire, best estimated his worth, This moaument is erected." James Bowdoin, Esq. 109 JAMES BOWDOIN. ESQ. Mr. Bowdoin was one of the greatest philosophers, and one of the most distinguished men of the ancient and respectable state of Massachusetts. He was born in Boston, in 1726, and died in 1790, in his sixty-fifth year. His grandfather was a native of Rochelle, in France, of a respectable and honoura- ble family, and in his religion a proiestant : in that kingdom then usually called Huguenots. Soon after the edict of Nantz (which had passed in 1598, in fa- vour of the protestants) was repealed in 1685, and per- secutions raged against them with great severity, the grandfather left France and landed at Casco Bay, near Portland, with his family. The father of Mr. Bowdoin was with him, then about twenty years old. The grandfather spelt his name Baudouin, as appears by one of his letters, which was formerly in posses- sion of the writer. The history and sufferings of the French protestants are well known. They were persecuted with even greater severity than English dissenters were in Great Britain. On the revo- cation of the edict of Nantz, many thousand were butchered, by the unfeeling bigots of the Roman Catholick faith. Dexter, Sigourney, Brimmer, Lau- rens, Boudinot, .lay, Huger, and others, left France, and ciiine to America, at this period of persecution. Before the edict of Nantz in 1598 and after 1572, 70,000 protestants were slaughtered for refusing sub- mission to the papal power. — From Casco, the elder Mr. Bowdoin soon removed to Boston, and there look up his permanent abode. He devoted himself to mercantile pursuits, and acquired a good estate. His son, the father of our Mr. Bowdoin, was held in high reputation, and was sometime one of the council for advising the governour. He also left a large property, and two sons, James and William ; who thus received a large inheritance at his de- cease. Mr. Bowdoin was educated in Harvard col- lege, and received the honours of that feieminary in 1745, when eighteen. While a member of the col- lege, he was not distinguished by that rare brilliancy of genius which excites astonishment ; but he was, even at that early age, remarkable for discernment, application and good sense. Good moral habits were also formed by him in early lite, so that when he came into possession of a large patrimonial estate, he was not corrupted, nor led astray, into the paths of dissipation or extravagance. In his youth, he courted the muses occasionally, and some of his poet- ical compositions have been preserved. But he did not devote much time to such pursuits. He early studied ethicks, natural philosophy, jurisprudence and politicks. At the age of twenty-seven or eight, he was returned a member of the General Court from the metropolis. And at this time he corresponded with Professor Winthrop of the university, with Franklin, Otis, Pratt, Mayhew, and Cooper. With the two first on philosophical subjects ; and with the others, on theology, and politicks, which even in 1750, engrossed the attention of the enlightened friends of civil liberty. In 1757, Mr. Bowdoin was transferred to the Ex- ecutive Council : and continued in that station, ami in the House of Representatives, till the war of the revolution. He was disapproved, when chosen by the General Court into the council, by Governour Bernard, and Governour Hutchinson, on several oc- vasions for his firm and inflexible opposition to the arbitrary measures of the British ministry, which the royal governours were instructed ft) support and en- force. Afterward, Hutchinson consented to his election into the council, believing his opposition would be less injurious than in the House of Repre- sentatives. That statesman was compelled to bear testimony to the zeal and decision of Mr. Bowdoin in the cause of liberty, and acknowledged that he was the ablest man at the council board. The volume of Massachusetts State Papers con- tains several resolves and reports of the council, and answers to the governour's speeches of that pe- riod, well known to have been prepared by him. " His heart was warm, and his tongue and pen were employed in the service of his country." During this period, as leisure from publick duties permitted, Mr. Bowdoin devoted himself to literary and philosophical pursuits. He had a good private library, and his correspondence was extensive with the learned men of his time. In 1774, Mr. Bowdoin was appointed one of the five delegates from Massachusetts, to attend a con- tinental congress in Philadelphia : but his health was then so delicate, that he was unable to bear the fatigues of the journey. In 1775, however, after the battle of Concord, and the crisis had arrived, we find him true to the liberties of the country. He was chosen President of the Executive council of Mas- sachusetts, at that period, when the authority of Governour Gage and his council was denied, and a House of Representativesand council were appoint- ed, to make laws, and to exercise the powers of gov- ernment. When a convention was formed in 1780, to prepare a civil constitution in Massachusetts, Mr. Bowdoin was elected the President ; his patriotism, intelligence and discretion pointing him out for that important station. The same year, and chiefly through his influence, the academy of arts and sci- ences was established in Massachusetts, of which he was unanimously chosen the first president ; and he presided over this learned body till his death. In 1785, he was elected governour of the common- wealth ; and again for the year 1786. It was his lot to be chief magistrate when the insurrection took place, headed by Daniel Shays. On the critical oc- casion he conducted with great firmness and moder- ation. And the crisis demanded the exercise of these political virtues. The insurrection was put down, with very little bloodshed ; and even that was provoked by the rashness of the insurgents. While Mr. Bowdoin was in the chair, the debt of the state was immense ; he did much to provide for its pay- ment, and to restore the publick credit. He also, in 1785, and again in 1786, recommended the eidarging of the powers of Congress, for the purpose of regula- ting commerce, collecting a revenue, and paying ofl* the debt of the United States. And his recommen- dation, no doubt, led to the general convention, in 1787, for amending the articles of the confederation, though a distinct proposition was also made by the Assembly of Virginia, in 1786, for that object. When President Washington made a tour through the Now England states in 1789, and visited Bos- ton, Mr. Bowdoin showed him great attention, and appeared highly graiified in the opportunity of man- ilesting his respect and admiration of his exalted character. It was the opinion of those who well knew Washington and Bowdoin, that they possessed 110 similar virtues and qualities, to enlitle them to the high regard and gratitude of our favoured republick. Mr. Bowdoin furnished several articles for the vol- umes of the learned academy of which he was presi- dent ; the chief was that on light, in which he advo- cated the theory of Newton. He left a handsome legacy and his valuable library to the insiiiution. He was a member of ihe royal societies of Dublin and London ; and received the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws, in the University of Ediiibiirj;h. To all his others honours, we mayjiisllv add llianlerived from a publick profession of the faith, and an exem- plary display of the virtues of Christianity. FIRST AMERICAN NAV.\L ACHIEVEMENT. ■ Mr. Cooper's "History of the Navy of the Uni- ted States," just published, brings to notice some early deeds of valor by the Fathers of the Revo- lution on the water, that are not eclipsed by the glory of their achievements on the land, and which will now deservedly rank with the noblest e.xploits of after times. The first volinve furnishes the following account of an action which is well call- ed the " Lexington of the seas :" The first nautical enterprise that succeeded the battle of Lexington, was one purely of private ad- venture. The intelligence of this conflict was brought to Machias, in Maine, on Saturday, the ninth of May, 1775. An arined schooner called the Margaretta, in the service of the crown, was lying in port, with two sloops under her convoy, that were loading with lumber on behalf of the King's Government. Those who brought the news were enjoined to be silent, a plan to capture the Margaretta having been immediately project- ed aiTiong some of the more spirited of the inhab- itants. The next day being Sunday, it was hoped that the officers of the latter might be seized while in church, but the scheme failed in consequence of the precipitation of those engaged. Captain Moore, who commanded the Margaretta, saw the assailants, and, with his officers, escaped through the windows of the church to the shore, where they were protected by the guns of the schooner. The alann was now taken, springs were got on the Margaretta's cables, and a few harmless shot were fired over the town, by way of intimidation. After a little delay, however, the schooner drop- ped down below the town, to a distance exceed- ing a league. Here she was followed, summoned to surrender, and fired on from a high bank, which her owTi shot could not reach. The Margaretta again weighed and running into the bay at the confluence of the two rivers, anchored. The following morning, which was Monday, the eleventh of May, four young men took posses- sion of one of the lumber sloops, and bringing her alongside of a wharf, they gave three cheers as a signal for volunteers. On explaining that their intentions were to make an attack on the Marga- retta, a party of about thirty-tive athletic men was soon collected. Arming themselves with fire arms, pitchforks, and axes, and throwing a small stock of provisions into the sloop, these spirited freemen made sail on their craft, with a light breeze at northwest. When the Margaretta ob- served the approach of the sloop she weighed and crowded sail to avoid a conflict, that was every way undesirable, as her commander was not apprized of all the facts that had occurred near Boston. In jibbing, the schooner carried away her main-boom, but continuing to stand on, she ran into Holmes' bay, and took a spar out ol a vessel that was then lying there. While these repairs wore making, the sloop hove in sight, and the I\Iargaretta stood out to sea, in the hope of avoiding her. The wind now freshened, and the sloop proved to be the better sailer, with the wind on the quarter. So anxious was the Mar- garetta to avoid a collision, that Captain Moore now cut away his boats ; but finding this inefTect- ual, and that his assailants were fast closing with him, he opened a fire, the schooner having an ar- mament of four light guns, and thirteen swivels A man was killed on board the sloop, which im- mediately returned the fire with a wall piece. This discharge killed the man at the Margaretta's helm, and cleared her quarter-deck. The schoon- er broached to, when the sloop gave a general discharge. Almost at the instant the two vessels came foul of each other. A short conflict now took place with musketry. Captain Moore throw- ing hand-grenades with considerable effect, in person. This officer was immediately afterward shot down, however, when the people of the sloop boarded and took possession of the Margaretta. The loss of life in this afiair was not very great, though twenty men on both sides, are said to have been killed and wounded. The force of the Margaretta, even in men, was much the most considerable, though the crew of no regular can ever equal in spirit and energy, a body of volun- teers assembled on an occasion like this. There was originally no commander in the sloop, but previously to engaging the schooner, Jeremiah O'Brien was selected for that station. This aflliir was the Lexington of the seas, for, like that cel- ebrated land conflict, it was the rising of a people against a regular force, was characterized by a long chase, a bloody struggle, and a triumph. It was also the first blow struck on the water, after the war of the American Revolution had actually commenced. CURIOUS COINCIDENCE. Washington was bom February 22, 1732, maugu- rated 1789 ; his term of service expired in the 66tli year of his age. John Adams was born October 19, 1735, inaugu-. rated 1797; term of service expired in the 66th year of his age. Jefferson bom April 2, 1743, inaugurated 1801 ; term of service expired in the C6lh year of his age. Madison born March 5, 1751, inaugurated 1809 ; term of service expired in the 6f)th year of his age. Monroe bom April 2, 1759, maugurated 1817; term of sendee expired in the 66th year of his age. The above is a list of five of the Presidents of the United States, (all men of the Revolution.) who ended their term of service in the 66th year of their age! Ill EXTRACT FROM THE REVIEW OF THE LIFE OF FATHER MARQUETTE BY JARED SPARKS. From the North American Review. We need say nothing here of the services which Mr. Sparks has rendered to American history. His Lives of Lcdyard and Morris and Washinirton ; his editions of the writings of Washington and Franlvlin. and of the Diplomatic Correspondence ; and his col- lection of American Biographies, are all known through this country and in Europe. He has done more than any other one man to preserve for posterity the undoubted records of our early history ; and we trust a long life may be granted him, wherein to pur- sue his labors ; for, with the advance already gained in a knowledge of the details of past times, his labors are becoming every year more and more valuable. Among his various publications, the series of American Biographies ranks high in interest and utility ; through it, many have been made known to the world, who might otherwise have hnnid no his- torian; and we hope he may be able to continue it through many more volumes. Among those persons, who but for this work might have remained without their deserved celebrit)', is Father Marquette, whose brief siory is now before us. His Journal, giving an accoimt of the discovery of the great Mississippi Valley, was published in France in 1681, and a poor translation of it was given in the Appendix to Hennepin's volumes, printed in London in 1698; but all knowledge of his doings slept in these dusty works, and in a few pages of Charlevoi.x's " New France," until Mr. Sparks drew up an abstract of the original Journal, for the second edition of Butler's " Hjsiory of Kentucky." This abstract he has now somewhat altered and enlarged, and put into a wider circulation, through his " Biography." I; is curious and interesting ; and as Marquette's discovery is but little known, and the labours of those that followed him but slightly appreciated, we have thought it worth while to give our readers a sketch of the prog- ress of the French in the knowledge and settlement of the Mississippi valley. The advantages of water communication were never more perfectly shown, than in the rapid prog- ress of the French in Canada when first settled. During the years in which John Eliot was preaching to the savages of Natick and Concord, the Jesuits were lifting their voices upon the furthest shores of Lake Snperiour ; while a journey from Boston to the Connecticut was still a journey through the heart of the wilderness, Allouez and Dablon had borne the cross through that very " Mellioki" (Milwaukie) re- gion, to which our speculators have just reached. With strong hearts those old monks went through their labours ; sleeping, in midwinter under the bark of trees for blankets, and seasoning their only food, " Indian corn, grinded small," with " little frogs, gath- ered in the meadows." They were very difl'erent men from "the apostle" of the Puritans; but, to all appearance, were as pure, and as true, and as loving ; the Miamis were •' so greedy to hear Father Allouez when he taught them," says Marquette, " that they gave him little rest, even in the night." Among those who were foremost in courage and kindness, was Marquette himself; a modest, quiet man, who went forward into unknown countries, not as a discoverer, but as God's messenger ; who thought all his sufferings and labour fruitful, because among '-the Illinois of Perouacca," he was able to bapiize one dying child ; and who took such a hold of the hearts of those wild men, through the inspi- ration of love, that for years after his death, when the storms of Lake Michigan swept over the Indian's Irail canoe, he called upon the name of .Marquette, and the wind ceased and the waves were still. In the year 1671, this Jesuit niisslonarv led a party of Hnrons to the point of land which projects from the North, at the strait between l^akes Michi- gan and Huron, and there founded the old settlement of Michillimackinac. Here, and along the neigh- bouring shores, he laboured with noiseless diligence, until 1673, when the intendant-general of the colo- ny, .M. Talon, a man of great activity and enterprise, and who waT upon the point of closing his career in Canada, determined that the close should be worthy of his character, and called upon Marquette to be the leader of a small party, which was to seek for that great river in the West, of which the Indians had so often spoken. The representative of the government in this undertaking was M. Joliet, a substantial citizen of Quebec, and wilh them went five other Frenchmen. Upon the thirteenth of May. 1673, this little band of seven left Michillimackinac in two bark canoes, wilh a small store of Indian corn and jerked meat, wherewith to keep soul and body in company, bound they knew not whither. The first nation they visited, one with which our reverend Father had been long acquainted, being told of iheir venturous plan, begged them to desist. There were Indians, they said, on that great river, who would cut off their heads without the least cause ; warriours who would seize them ; monsters who would swallow them, canoes and all ; even a demon, who shut the way, and buried in ihe waters that boiled about him all who dared draw nigh ; and, il these dangers were passed^ there were heats there that would infallibly kill them. " I thanked them for their good advice," says Marquette, " but I told them that I could not follow it; since the salvation of souls was at stake, for which 1 should be over- joyed to give my life." Passing through Green Bay, from the mud of which, says our voyager, rise " mischievous va- pours, which cause the most grand and perpetual thunders that I have ever heard," they entered Fox River, and toiling over stones which cut their feet, as they dragged their canoes through its strong rap- ids, reached a village where lived in union the Mi- amis, Mascoutens, and " Kikabeu.x" (Kickapoos.) Here Allouez had preached, and behold ! in the midst of the town, a cross, [utie belle croix,) on which hung skins, and belts, and bows, and arrows, which " these good people had offered to the great Manilou, to thank him because he had taken pity on them during the winter, and had given them an abundant chase." Beyond this point no Frenchman had gone; here was the bound of discovery ; and much did the sav- ages wonder at the hardihood of these seven men, who, alone, in two bark canoes, were thus fearlessly passing into unknown dangers. On the tenth of June, they left this wondering and well-wishing crowd, and, with two guides to lead them through the lakes and marshes of that region, started for the river, which, as they heard, rose but about three leagues distant, and fell into the Missis- sippi. Without ill-luck these guides conducted them 112 -o the porlage, and helped ihem carry l!it-ir canoes across it ; then, returning, left them " alone amid that unknown country, in the hand ol' (jod." With prayers to the mother ol' Jesus they strengthened their souls, and then committed them- selves, in all hope, to the current of the westward- flowing river, the " Mescousin" (Wisconsin ;) a sand-barred stream, hard to navigate, but full of isl- ands covered with vines, and bordered by meadows, and groves, and pleasant slopes. Down this they floated with open eyes, imtil, upon the seventeenth of June, they entered the Mississippi, " with a joy," says Marquette, " that I cannot express." Quietly floating down the great river, they re- marked the deer, the buffaloes, the swans — " wing- less, for they lose their feathers in that country," — the great (ish, one of which had nearly knocked their canoe into atoms, and other creatures of air, earth, and water, but no men. At last, however, upon the twenty-lirst of June, ihey discovered upon the bank of the river the foot-prints of some fellow- mortals, and a little path leading i[ito a ))leasant meadow. Leaving the canoes in charge of their followers, Joliet and Father Marquette boldly ad- vanced upon this path toward, as they supposed, an Indian village. Nor were they mistaken ; for they soon came to a little town, toward whicli, recom- mending themselves to God's care, they went so nigh as to hear the savages talking. Having made their presence known by a loud cry, they were gra- ciousl}' received by an embassy of four old men, who presented them the pipe of peace, and told them that this was a village of the " Illinois." The voy- agers were then conducted into the town, where all received them as friends, and treated them to a great smoking. After much complimenting and present- making, a grand feast was given to the Europeans, consisting of four courses. The first was of homi- ny, the second of fish, the third of a dog, which the Frenchmen declined, and the whole concluded wiih roast buffalo. After the feast they were marched through the town with great ceremony and much speechmaking ; and, having spent the night, pleas- antly and quietly, amid the Indians, they returned to their canoes with an escort of six hundred people. The Illinois, Marquette, like all the early travellers, describes as remarkably handsome, well-mannered, and kindly, even somewhat effeminate. The rever- end Father tells us, that they used guns, and were much feared by the people of the South and West, where they made many prisoners, whom they sold as slaves. Leaving the Illinois, the adventurers passed the rocks upon which were painted those monsters of whose existence they had heard on Luke Michigan, and soon found themselves at the mouth of the Pe- kitanoni, or Missouri of our day ; the character of which is well described ; muddy, rushing, and noisy. " Through this," says Marquette, " I hope to reach the Gulf of California, and thence the East Indies." This hope was based upon certain rumours among the natives, which represented the Pekitanoni as passing by a meadow, five or six days' journey from its mouih, on the opposite side of which meadow was a stream running westward, which led, beyond doubt, to the South Sea. " If God give me health," says our Jesuit, " 1 do not despair of one day making the discovery." Leaving the Missouri, they passed the demon, that ha4 been portrayed to ihem, which was indeed a dangerous rock in the river, and came to the Ouabouskigou, or Ohio, a stream which makes but a small figure in Father Marquette's map, being but a trifling watercourse compared to the Illinois. From the Ohio, our voyagers passed with safety, except from the moschetoes, into the neighbourhood of the " Akamscas," or Arkansas. Here they were attacked by a crowd of warriours, and had nearly lost their lives ; but Marquette resolutely presented the peace-pipe, until some of the old men of the at- tacking party were softened, and saved them from harm. " God touched their hearts," says the pious narrator. The next day the Frenchmen went on to "Akam- sca," where they were received most kindly, and feasted on corn and dog till they could eat no more. These Indians cooked in and eat from earthenware and were amiable and unceremonious, each man helping himself from the dish, and [lassing it to his neighbour. From this point Joliet and our writer determined to return to the North, as dangers increased toward the sea, and no doubt could exist as to the point where the Mississippi emptied, to ascertain which pf)int was the great object of their expedition. Ac- cordingly, on the seventeenth of July, our voyagers left Akamsca ; retraced their path, with much la- bour, to the Illinois, through which they soon reach- ed the Lake ; and "nowhere," says Marquette, " did we see such grounds, meadows, woods, bulTaloes, stags, deer, wildcats, bustards, swans, ducks, para- keets, and even beavers," as on the Illinois river. In September the party, without loss or injury reached Green Bay, and reported their discovery ; one of the most important of that age, but of which we have now no record left except the narrative of Marquette, Joliet (as we learn from an abstract of his account, given in Hennepin's second volume, London, 1698) having lost all his papers while re- turning to Quebec, by the upsetting of his canoe. Marquette's unpretending account, we have in a col- lection of voyages by Thevenot, printed in Paris in 1681. Its general correctness is unciuu.itionable ; and, as no European had claimed to have made any such discovery at the time this volume was publish- ed, but the persons therein named, we may ccnisider the account as genuine. Afterward, Marquette returned to the Illinois, by their request, and ministered to ihem until 1676. On the eighteenth of May, in that year, as he was pass- ing with his boatmen up Lake Michigan, he proposed to land at the mouth of a little stream running from the peninsula, and perform mass. Leaving his men with the canoe, he went a little way apart to pray they waiting for him. As much time passed, and he did not return, they called to mind, that he had said something of his death being at hand, and anxiously went to seek him. They found him dead ; where he had been praying, he had died. The canoe- men dug a grave near the inoulh of the stream, and buried him in the sand. Here his body was liable to be exposed by a rise of water ; and would have been so, had not the river retired, and left the mis- sionary's grave in peace. Charlevoix, who visited the spot some fifty years afterward, found that the waters had forced a passage at the most difficult point ; had cut through a blufl', rather than cross the lowland where that grave was. The river is called Marquette. 113 From the Louisville Literary News-Letter. ISAAC SHELBY. Tins distinguished man, whose name is so inti- mately associated with the history of Kentucky, was a native of Maryland. His father was an immigrant from Wales near the middle of the last century, at which period, the section of country in which he settled, was annoyed by incessant inroads of the hos- ; tile Indian tribes. Under circumstances like these, | only the elements of an ordinary English education could be obtained by the subject of this sketch. In all the arts of sylvan warfare, however, he was amply instructed ; and a firm constitution enabled him to undergo privation and hardship almost with indif- ference. While yet a young man, he was engaged as a drover in the extensive pasture lands of Western Virginia, beyond the Alleghany Ridge, and thither he repaired. During the Indian hostilities of 1774, two years subsequent to his removal, the father of Shelby was appointed commander of a company of \ rangers, in the campaign of Lewis and Dunmore against the savages on the Scioto. As lieutenant of tliis company, Shelby was engaged in the memorable and sanguinary conflict of the 10th of October, at the mouth of the Kenhawa. The result of this battle g^ve peace to the frontier, and deterred the Indians from uniting with the British in the eventful contest of the Revolution. Such was the gallant conduct of Shelby in this action that, after the close of the cam- paign, he was appointed by Lord Dunmore to the second place in command of a garrison erected on the spot of the battle. This is considered the most sanguinary and severely contested conflict ever sus- tained against the north-western tribes, continuing from sunrise to sunset, and occupying about half a mile along the bank of the Ohio. In the garrison to which he had been appointed, Shelby continued until the ensuing July, when the peace appearing to be firmly established, he proceeded to Kentucky, and was employed as a surveyor under the firm of Hen- derson & Co., which then claimed proprietorship of all the region, and had established a land office under their purchase from the Cherokees. For about a year the young surveyor performed his duties, when his health becoming impaired from exposure, and privation, and the inclemency of the wilderness, he returned to Virginia. On his arrival he was ap- pointed by Gov. Henry, commissary of supplies, for a large body of militia, posted at the various fron- tier garrisons. These supplies could be obtained no nearer than at a distance of three hundred miles, but his perseverance overcame all obstacles, and the of- fice was satisfactorily discharged. During the suc- ceeding year, he was engaged in the commissary de- partment for the continental army, and for an expe- dition against the north-western Indians ; and in '79 he furnished supplies for a campaign against the Chi- camauga Indians, on his own credit. In the spring of the same year, he was elected a member of the Virginia Legislature, and in the fall was appointed a major, and shortly after a colonel. In '80 Shelby returned to Kentucky for the pur- pose of securing and locating the lands surveyed and improved five years before by himself. While thus engaged, intelligence reached him of the surrender of Charleston to the British, and the loss of the southern army; upon which he immediately started 1.'') for Virginia, to fight for his country's independence. On his arrival, he was desired to furnish all the aid in his power to check the enemy then holding pos- session of the South, and in a few days he had as- sembled three hundred mounted riflemen, with whom he took up his march across the AUeghanies. Short- ly after his arrival at the camp, on Broad river, Shel- by, with two other officers, was detached with six hundred men to surprise a strong post of the enemy, on the waters of the Pacolet river, fortified by aba- tis, and commanded by Capt. Moore, a distinguished loyalist. The post was surrounded, and at the second summons, was surrendered, although furnished with a force sufficient to have repulsed double that of the besiegers. Immediately after this affiiir, Shelby was detached with another officer and six hundred mount- ed men, to hover on the flank of the enemy, and cut off his foragers. The enemy's force was at that time twenty-five hundred strong, commanded by Major Ferguson, a very distinguished partisan officer in the British army. After various unsuccessful attempts to attack Col. Shelby at disadvantage, his advance, consisting of seven hundred men, at length, on the first of August, came up with the Americans at a spot called Cedar Spring, where, after a sharp con- flict of half an hour, Ferguson arrived with all his force. Shelby ordered a retreat, but succeeded in carrying off fifty prisoners, among whom were two officers; and, though great efforts were made for five miles, to regain them, succeeded in placing them beyond the reach of rescue. His own loss was only ten or twelve killed and wounded. Not long after this affair, Shelby, with several other officers, was detached with seven hundred horsemen, to disperse a body of several hundred tories encamped about forty miles distant, at Musgrove's Mills, immediately upon the route to which place lay the whole force of Major Ferguson. At sunset, Shelby took up his line of march from the camp: leaving Ferguson's en- trenchment three miles to his left, he rode hard all night, and at dawn met a patrol party about half a mile from the tory camp, with which a skirmish en- sued and several were killed. At this crisis, a coun- tryman residing near the spot, came up with the in- telligence, that a reinforcement of six hundred troops destined to join Ferguson's army, had the evening previous, entered the hostile camp. Escape was now impossible, and attack with exhausted men and horses, under such circumstances, would have been madness. Entrenchment upon the spot, was the only resource, and a breast-work of logs and brush was immediately thrown up, while Capt. Inman was sent out with twenty-five men to meet and skirmish with the enemy, so soon as they crossed the river, with orders to fire upon the foe, and retreat at discretion. These orders were obeyed, and, as was anticipated, the enemy supposing themselves attacked by the whole force, were thrown into confusion, so that when within seventy yards of the entrenchment, they were exposed to a most destructive fire from the American riflemen. An hour passed away before the detachment could be driven from the feeble breast- work, and, just as it began to give way, the com- mander of the enemy was wounded, and, all the Bri- tish officers having been previously killed or disabled, the whole line commenced a retreat. The Amer- icans pursued and drove them across the river, but in this pursuit Capt. Inman was killed, gallantly 114 fi^htin? to the last. The British loss was sixiy- lliree killed, anil one hundred and sixty wounded and laken, while thai of the Americans was hul four Killed, and nine wounded. Alter the aetion, Shelby ordered his men immediately to liorse, with the de- termination ol' attacking licfore ni>;ht a British post about lliirly miles distant, when an express came up in great haste, dated on the battle ground, and giving intelligence of the defeat of the American grand army under Gates, near Camden, and ordering an imme- diate retreat, as the victorious foe would undoubtedly endeavor to improve their victory by destroying all the minor corps of the Americans. This retreat was no easy task for Shelby, encumbered as he was with prisoners, and his troops and hordes fatigued. But there was no alternative, and he accordingly took up the line of march immediately for the mountains, and continued it all that day and night, and the next day until late in the evening, wiihoul halt or refreshment. This forced inarch was the salvation of the detach- ment, as it was pursued until late in the afternoon of the second day, by a strong body of Ferguson's troops. Shelby, after retreating beyond the reach of danger, sent on his prisoners for security, to Vir- ginia — there being then no fragment of an army soulli of that state. Ferguson made several daring attempts to regain the prisoners, but all in vain; he al.so sent out, by prisoners on parole, the most threatening messages to Shelby to cease his opposition to the British government with his mountaineers. At this crisis in the American Revolution, some of its best friends despairing of success, sought safety under the British standard ; but Shelby remained firm and undaunted, and at length proposed to raise a force, aner he was called on for five hundred mounted riflemen, by General Greene, to aid in inlercepting Cornwallis, at that time blockaded by the French fleet in the Chesapeake ; but on the surrender of that com- mander, Shelby was attached to Marion's regiment on the Santee, and was second in command of a squadron of dragoons ordered to carry a 15ritish post at Fairlawn, some eight or ten miles from the ene- my's main army. The rumor had been rife, that there were five hundred Hessians in the fort, in a state of mutiny, who would readily surrender to a superior force; but the rebels had been suspected, and marched off to Charleston the day before the siege commenced. Nevertheless, the post was sur- rendered with one hundred and fifty prisoners. Great exertions were subsequently made to regain these pri- soners, hut unsuccessfully, and immediately after, the whole British force retreated to Charleston. Shel- by's period of service having now expired and no further active operations being in contemplation, he obtained leave to attend the Assembly of North Carolina, of which he was a member, which com menced its session in December, and left the army with the most flattering testimonials of regard from Marion. In '82 Shelby was appointed one of the commis- sioners to settle the pre-emption claims of settlers on the Cumberland, and to lay off the military bounty lands south of the spot where Nashville now stands. This service he performed during the ensuing winter, and in the spring he returned to Boonsborough, Ken- ■ tucky, where he married a daughter of Capt. Hart, one of the settlers of the slate, and one of the firm of Henderson & Co., original purchasers from the Cherokees. Seltling upon the soil under the earliest pre-emption granted in Kentucky, Shelby pursued peacefully the honorable ncciijiation of a farmer; and, it is mentioned as a remarkable fact in his biography, that at the period of his death, forty-three years after- wards, he was the only man in Kenliiiky lesidiiio on his own original setdemciu and pre-cmplion right. 115 In '92, Shelby wiis a member of the earh' conven- tions held at Danville for the purpose of obtaining a separation from Virginia ; and a member, also, of that convention wliich formed the first constitution of the state. Subsequently, lie was elected to the gubernatorial chair, and fulfilled his duties in that responsible station, with signal success. At the ex- piration of four years he retired to private life, leav- ing Kentucky, for the first time since his childhood, entirely at peace with the savages. In 1812, when hostilities commenced with Great Britain, and our entire western frontier was menaced by the savages, Shelby was again called to the ex- ecutive chair. The emergency was one which de- manded the exercise of all his powers, and, by the authority of the legislature he organized a force of four thousand volunteers, which, in the fall of 1813, he led in person, though then sixty-three years of age, under Harrison, to Canada. To his unauthor- ised but judicious step in drafting a corps of mount- ed volunteers at the crisis of this campaign, is said to have been owing its success, and the favorable results to the victory of the Thames. His gallant conduct on the memorable occasion won for him the most flattering acknowledgments from his general officer and from President Madison, as well as from the Legislature of his own state, and subsequently a vote of thanks and a gold medal from Congress. In 1817, Shelby was invited by Monroe to the de- partment of War; but his advanced age and his love of private life induced him to decline acceptance. — The ensuing year he acted as a commissioner, with Gen. Jackson, in obtaining a cession of all the Chick- asaw lands within the boundaries of Kentucky and Tennessee ; and this proved his last public act. In the spring of 1820 his right arm was disabled by paralysis, but his faculties remained unshaken until his decease, which was occasioned by apoplexy in the summer of '26. in the seventy-sixth year of his age. For many years previous to this event, he had been a conscientious and consistent member of the Presbyterian church, and had contributed libe- rally to the erection of a house of worship on his own land. In summing up the character of Isaac Shelby, we may emphatically say — he ivas a good and a gal- lant man. His life, like that of all the leading spirits of his day, was an eventful one ; and, in bravery and patriotism, he was, perhaps, surpassed by none of his coiemporaries. And Shelby's memory is safe. He will not be forgotten — at least by the sons of Kentucky; for his name on their lips, is a " household word." VAZOO. It is a fact, of which few are aware, that at Satar- tia, on the Yazoo river, moulder the ruins of a dila- pidated fort, which, during French ascendancy in this country, was the abode and asylum of civilized man. Though the fact that the French, a long time anterior to the revolution, had a fort upon the Yazoo river, is incidentally mentioned in connection with the early history of General Washington, yet little, even at that period, seems to have been known of its locality, its object, or its destiny ; and its men- tion has faded from the page of American history, and its recollection from the mind of man. But it is on that account encircled with unusual interest, and clothed in imaginary grandeur ; as fancy unrestrain- ed by fact, must weave its history, rear again its splendid but fallen walls — people its silent arcades — string anew the lute by which the lover softened and civilized the dusky forest maiden ; and mount the deep-mouthed cannon, whose thunders were he^rd far alonj the sluggish waters of the Yazoo. The ditch, which surrounded this once secure and majestic fort, is one mile in circumference, and not- withstanding a flood of years have poured their obli- terating waters upon it, the depth is yet about three and a half feet. The dirt which was thrown from it, rises about the same distance above the surface of the surrounding country — making the distance at present, from the bottom of the ditch to the top of the embankment, from six to seven feet. This ditch is perfectly circular, and must have been of a great depth at the time of its completion — otherwise its every vestige would have long since disappeared; for such is its age, that the trees which have grown up, both in the ditch and upon the embankment, equal in size, and have in every particular the re- semblance of those of the neighbouring forests. The surface of the earth, on the inside, is perfectly level, with the exception of here and there a mound, seemingly designed to give the inmates a view and command of the river, which meanders at a distance of two hundred yards from its north-western boun- dary. The ruins indicate nothing of the character and construction of the fort, further than the embank- ment and circular ditch already described. This 'brt must have been constructed as early, or nearly BO, as the setdement of New Orleans, and have astonished the wild Indian, before he learned the name of the far-famed " Natchez." Of the history of this desolate home of the soldier, the Indians themselves know but little, having left its tradition behind them, in their chase after the wild deer of the wilderness. The only information in relation lo it was derived from an Indian, who bore some visible traces of his French ancestry, and claimed to he a descendant of a princess of Yazoos and the French commandant at the fort. He lived upon me spot at the time the country was settled by the whites, and the tradition, as it had reached hiin, re- presented the French as once having an extensive and lordly possession there, of which the fort was the centre. They traded with the Indians, and at- tempted to possess themselves of the Yazoo valley. After years of labour and suffering, when they be- lieved themselves nearest the accomplishment of their object, and the surrounding Indians most peaceful and friendly, the Yazoos suddenly made a descent upon them, and surprised and massacred the inhabi- tants of the fort. This, he says, originated in the maltreatment of the princess, his maternal ancestor, oy the French ; but most probably from a desire of plunder in the Indians. If some lover of fiction would visit this spot, he might lay a foundation for some of fancy's brightest and loveliest creations — a theme which would render romantic the mention of the wilds of Mississippi. — Canton Herald. 116 GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE. There have been men in the history of everj' nation, the lives and characters of whom are so in- timately identified with its annals, that to awan' detail tlie events of the era in which they flourished Such a man was Washington, and such a man, as truly, was George Rogers Clarke, though in a less extended sphere. 'l"he bioirraphy of Clarke and the early history of this western valley ;iie identical ; and should a life of this remarkable man, at all wor'liy of its subject, ever be given to the made such a report of the western frontier to the Legislature of the state, that in the early part of '78, the''celel)rated Patrick Henry, then governor, yielded to his solicitations — a regiment was voted for the defence of llie West, and two or three hundred men their b^o<^raphers full justice, it is indispensable to assembled without delay. The destination of this " ^ • . . enterprise was preserved a profound secret. 1 he force shortly started off, and crossing the AUegha- nies, to the Monongahela river, descended by water to the falls of the Ohio. At this point were left several families of emigrants, who had availed them- selves of a safe conduct; and being landed on Corn Island, a portion of the land was cleared and planted The names of the heads of these farai- pvibli,: — and we have reason to believe such will | with corn. shortly be the case— we shall, at the same time, re- lies, so far as we have been enabled to learn, were ceive a more complete and interesting view of the James Patton, Richard Chenoweth, John Tuel, and primitive settlement of the West, and the perils and William Faith. privations attending it, than has yet appeared. ! After settling these families, and being joined by These suggestions beinir premised, it is quite evi- a part)' of volunteers from Kentucky, Clarke, with dent, that, in'our present notice of this ilistint'uished four companies, under the command of Bowman, man, we lay pretensions to nothing but an inipcrfecl Harrod, Helm, and Montgomery, on June 24th, sketch of the leadinir incidents of his life, and the during a total eclipse of the sun, started in boats leading feature* of his character, as illustrated by i down the Ohio, for a French post, called Fort Mas- thcm. We had hoped to have presented our read- sac, about sixty miles from the mouth, and aboiit ers with a more complete narrative of Clarke, from 'one hundred anil thirty miles from Kaskaskia. This the pen of a member of the family, than our own village was now, for the first time, announced as the exceedingly limited sources of information will per- ; destination of the enterprise. Concealing his boats mil us to prepare ; but, in the absence of this, we avail ; at the old fort among the cane-brakes, to prevent ourselves of those circumstances, dates and events, discovery by the savages, he now commenced his which, with more or less accuracy, have been de- march through a low, flat, marshy meadow, inter- tailed by antecedent writers. We may thus, in some , sected by innumerable streams, and, in fact, im- degree, suppiv that sign:d deficiency, which the passable to anyone but a backwood's ranger. At absence of this distinguished name from our sketches the head of his gallant band, rifle in hand, knapsack of early western characters, would not fail to occasion, on his shoulders, marched the intrepid Clarke ; en The subject of our present narrative, was a native countering every hardship, and enduring, without a of Virginia, and was born in Alliermarle in Novem- murmur, every privation, like the meanest private ber, 17S2. When about twenty-four years of age, in the regiment. he forsook his native village, and like most of the ! After a inarch incredibly short, all things con- enterprising young men of the period, started off for sidered, the hardy rangers arrived on the banks of the recent setdements of Kentucky, then a county the Kaskaskia, a river opposite the village, in the of the parent state. At this era. Great Britain, then night, having pursued their route two days after the at war with us, held possession of that immense exhaustion of their provisions. Game, it is true, tract of country extending north and east of the Mis- was abundant in the forests throueh which they sissippi, from the (ndf of Mexico, to the extreme passed, but the discharge of a gun, it was thought, frozen regions of the Arctic circle ; and, to some might warn some solitary hunter, and so they pre- extent, maintained authority over it, by means of ferred to endure the panirs of hunger, rather than widely scattered and well-fortified military posts, frustrate an enterprise, in which they had already To learn the location of those posts — to examine suflcred so much, and in which secrecy was so their defences as far as practicable — to render him- essential to success. Notwithstanding all their pre- self intimately familiar with forest-life and privation cautions, however, it is stated that a hunter discover- — to make himself acquainted with every subject of ed the parry, and apprised tiie inhabitants of Kas- interest in the country — to investigate the character kaskiaof its approach; but, that such a tale was con- of its setders, its soil, and topoiTraphy, were among sidered utterly improbable, and olitaincd not the the objects which the young Virginian entered upon slightest credence. — So unexpected, therefore, was soon after his emigration to the West. His success the attack, that the sleeping town and garrison were was signal, while, at the same time, he gained the captured without a blow being struck — not even a confidence and friendship of the inhabitants. Through show of resistance being made. Of Clarke, in this the influence of British agents, the entire frontier was aflair, it is strikingly characteristic of his resolute at that time a scene of Indian atrocities; and so deep and unshrinking nature, that, after he h:id formed was the impressiim which the recital made upon the his men for the assault, the only remark he made to mind of Clarke, that he at once devised a scheme to them was 'The town is to be taken at all events;' capture those British posts, from which the savages a sentiment quite as pithy as Stark's memorable received their supplies of arms and animunition, and speech previous to the battle of Bennington, by which they were urged on to their shucking bar- After the capture of Kaskaskia, not an individual barities. Such an enterprise was eminently calcula- was suflcred to escape to convey the intelligence to ted for the bold and daring genius of the yoiuig ad- the posts higlicr up the Mississippi; and, the next venturer, and he engaged in it with all the fervidness day, after <-efreshment, a detachment mounted on of his ardent nature. He returned to Virginia, and the Indian ponies of the American Bottom, hastened 117 on to Fort Chartres — then a most formidable fortress of stone — and took possession of it without resis- tance. The fate of Cahokia, a fortiticd village a few miles above, was tlie same ; and thus the British power in that section was completely humbled ; and the French villaeers, swearing allegiance to our government, the fort at Kaskaskia became the head quarters of Clarke. At the next session of the Vir- ginia Legislature, the district became a county, and was styled Illinois. The brief account of the capture of Fort Chartres we have presented, is that given by history ; but there is a tradition which we have heard from the lips of the old people now residing upon the spot, which is, perhaps, of sufficient interest to be given in this connection : When the little band of Clarke arrived beneath the walls of Fort Chartres, the num- bers of the garrison far exceeding those of the be- siegers, the latter, as if in despair of success, shortly took up the line of march and disappeared behind the distant bluffs. Days passed on ; diligent exami- nation of the heights was kept up with glasses from the walls, but no enemy returned. At length, when apprehension had begun to die away, early one morning a troop of cavalry appeared winding over the bluffs, their arms glittering in the sunlight, and descended from view, apparently in the plain be- neath. Hour after hour the march continued ; troop after troop, battalion upon battalion, regiment after regiment, with their various ensigns and habiliments of warfare, appeared in lengthened files, wound over the bluffs, and disappeared. Alarmed and astonish- ed at the coundess swarms of the invaders, the gar- rison hastily evacuated the fortress, and for dear life and liberty, soon placed the Mississippi between tliemselves and the clouds of locusts ! Hardly was litis precipitate manoeuvre well accomplished when the alarm of drum and fife was heard, and the iden- tical force, which but a few days before had raised tbe siege, and in despair had retreated from beneath tlie wall, now paraded through the open sally ports, their rags and tatters fluttering by way of "pomp and circumstance " in the evening breeze. This fortunate ri'se de gi'erre had been accomplished through the favourable nature of the ground, a few extra stand of colours manufactured for the occasion, and a variety of uniforms and arms of like character. After winding over the bluffs into the plain beneath, they again ascended through a defile unobserved by the garrison, and once more appeared in different guise and order, in rear of their comrades. "Dis- tance," loo, cast doubtless not a little "enchantment" over the "view ;" and then the fear and trepidation of the worthy garrison probably sharpened their optics to detect all the peril in store for them, and, perchance, somewhat more. Whether there is rea- son to consider this tradition worthy of credence or not, we cannot say ; but in pursuing a further inves- tigation of the incidents of Clarke's 1 fe, we shall find those which will abundantly demonstrate, that he was not deficient in military strategv requisite for a manoeuvre of the kind. Viewing the expedi- tion as a whole, it is not unworthy to be cherished in the most brilliant page of military renown. When Clarke had secured possession of his con- quest, he unfolded to his men another feature in his expedition westward, which was the capture of Vinceanes, a strongly fortified post. To ascertain the feelings of the French inhabitants of the village relative to their subservience to British will, Clarke dispatched to it M. Gibault, the Roman Catholic priest of Vincennes, who happened to be at Kaskaskia at the time of its cap- ture, and was friendly t'l the Americans. On his arrival he immediately gathered all of his flock in their church, and, such was his influence 'with lliem, that they at once took the oath of ('allegiance to Virginia. Upon the announcement ot I this surrender to Clarke, he appointed a com- I mandant to the post ; but, no reinforcements ar- riving from Virginia, he was unable to take pos- I session, and soon intelligence was brought him I by Col. Vigo, that it had been garrisoned by IGov. Hamilton with British troops and several [hundred Indians. Col. Vigo was sent back to I Vincennes, and again returned with the intelligence, I that the commandant had detached his Indians to I the frontiers of Kentucky; and among other ex- tensive operations, designed, in a few months, to recapture the villages on the Mississippi, suspect- ing no attack himself. This inrormatinn at once determined the move- ments of Clarke. Leaving Kaskaskia on the 5th February, '79, he commenced, with one hundred and thirty men, partly Creoles, a march of one hundred and sixty miles, through a region almost impassable at any season, but at the present intersected by swollen creeks and rivers without name or number — abounding in marshes affording no firm footing, and mostly covered with forests and fallen timber. With their rifles on their heads and their provisions on their backs — without tents or wagons — almost without food or ammunition, for sixteen days did they toil onward. The five days were occupied in traversing the swamps and submerged bottom of the Wabash, within six miles of the Fort, so i etimes wading breast high in mud and water. The season was, of course, an unusual one ; or every man would have perished. On the 23d of February, the gallant corps arrived at the Wabash, and high on its eastern banks, be- yond the rolling flood, stood Fort Vincent, the Bri- tish fortress. Crossing the river in the night, Clarke began to approach the town over the inundated bot- tom, and at the moment his troops were discovered by the enemy, Clarke found himself near a small ancient mound, which concealed part of his force from the foe. Under :his covert he countermarched his men in so skilful a manner, that the leading files, which had been seen from the town, were transferred undiscovered to the rear, and made to pass again in sight of the enemy, until his whole force had seve- ral times been displayed, and his little detachment of jaded troops assumed the appearance of an ex- tended column greatly superior to its actual strength. A man shooting ducks was here discovered, who in- formed Clarke that no one expected his approach at that season of the year. The town was now per- emptorily summoned to surrendi-r, which it soon did. That night, after the moon had set, an en- trenchment was thrown up, in front of the Fort, within rifle shot, and on the mnrnina: of the 24th, a flag of truce w:is sent to Gov. Hamilton, accompany- ing the most daring message to surrender, we ven- ture to affirm, under such circumstances, ever sent by besiegers. This being disregarded, the attack 118 commenced, and for eighteen hours the assailants poured such a shower of rifle balls into the port- holes of a stron? battery, that at length its artillery was silenced, and the Fort eiven up, after some negotiation, upon Clarke's own terms. On ilie jnorninsj of the 25th, a garrison of twice the number of his own force, were surrendered prisoners of war, and the victor took quiet possession of the post, containing a large quantity of military stores. In the heat of t)\e assault, a war-party of savages ap- peared on the prairie with two French prisoners; battle was instandv given them, and nine Indians with the prisoners were securid. Sucli was tJie termination of an enterprise, which, in the language of a late interesting writer,* " for bravery, for hardships endured, for skill and con- summate tact and pure discipline, and love of country on the part of his followers ; for the immense bene- fits acquired, and signal advantages obtained by it for the whole nation, was second to no enterprise undertaken during the revolutionary struggle ; I might add, second to no undertaking in ancient or modern warfare." It was these brilliant achievements of this expedition which gave to Clarke the highly honourable tide, by which he will go down in histo- ry to other generations — ' The Hannibal of the West.' The elTect of Clarke's expedition was most ex- tensive and powerful. It relieved the frontier from Indian atrocities — it struck terror into the hearts of the savages — it destroyed a matured plan to sweep otr evcrv vestise of American civilization in the West, and it consequentially brought about the pur- chase of Louisiana, years afterwards. It had the enVict, also, to found our own city sooner than it would otherwise have been founded ; for, by break- ing up the powerful posts of the enemy in the vici- nity, it enabled tiie setdcrs who had previously been forced for safety to inhabit and cultivate Corn Island, to remove, in the autumn of '78, to the southern shore, and carry on their improvements in peace. The town rapidly increased and became the head quarters of Clarke. Immediately after the capture of Vincennes, in- formation reaching Clarke that a convoy of goods from Detroit was descending the Wabash, he despatched sixty men, in boats well armed with swivels, to intercept it. Forty leagues up the river they met the convoy, and made prize of goods and provisions to the amount of ten thousand pounds sterling, and the mail from Canada, capluring also forty prisoners, who were discharged on parole. Gov. Hamilton was sent to Virginia, and Clarke returned to Kaskaskia, leaving a garrison to retain Vincennes. Could he now have mustered a force of hut three hundred men, he would have marched at once to Detroit; but he received neither troops nor advices from Virginia; and, although bis men, ani- mated by a vote of thanks from the Legislature of that stale for their capture of the posts on the Mis- sissippi, would most willingly have marched against this important fortification, prudence forbade the undertakinir. Not long after this, Clarke was directed to select a position on the Mississippi, near the southern boundary of the territory claimed by Virginia, and to commence a line of posts advancing towards the * Judge Law. northern lakes. This was done, and Fort Jefferson was erected. By this circumstance a difliculty al- most immediately arose with the Chickasaw Indians, upon whose territory the fort was built; but ex- planations being made, they soon became pacified, and subsequently assisted in driving olF a band of hostile Indians, by whom the garrison was assailed. The spot was afterwards restored to the Chickasaws. Clarke's influence with the northern Indians had now become very great. Assembling four or five thousand of them at Vincennes, he proposed to march to Detroit; but, disappointed in the strength of his force, and being unwilling to rely entirely upon the savages, the design was given up. — Nor were the enemy meanwhile idle. In the early part of June, 1780, the British commander at Detroit, with six hundred Canadians and Indians, suddenly appeared, with two field pieces, at Ruddle's Station, in Kentucky, and, having captured and plundered that, together with Martin's Station, hastened off towards Canada with the spoils. Clarke imme- diately collected a band of volunteers, and without delay made an attack on the Shawnees of the Great Miami. The Indians were put to flight — one of their principal villages was consumed, and all their provisions destroyed, so that being forced to hunt for a subsistence, they gave Kentucky no further trouble that season. During the same year, Clarke passed several months in Virginia, urging upon the government the reduction of Detroit. He at length ol)tained a force of two thousand men for the enter- prise, which force was ordered to rendezvous in March of '81, at the falls of the Ohio. But dillicul- ties and obstacles arising, the ex|)ediuon was finally abandoned. Clarke was, however, raised to the rank of Brigadier General. In September of the same year, a thousand mount- ed riflemen were assembled on the Ohio, and led on by Clarke against the Indian towns on the Miami and Scioto. The Indians fled — only twelve being killed or taken — five of their villages were burned — all their provisions destroyed, and the eflcct was, that never afterwards did any considerable band in- vade Kentucky. In '84, Clarke was appointed by Congress, with four other gentlemen, to negotiate friendly treaties with the Indians, and several were eflfected. Among these was one made at Fort Washington in January of '76, which is thus described — ' The Indians came to the treaty in the most friendly manner, except the Shawnees, the most conceited and warlike of all the savasre tribes ; the first in batde, llie last at a treaty, 'i'hree hvuidred of their finest warriors, set oil' in their paint and feathers, filed into the council- house. Their numbers and demeanor, so unusual at an occasion of this sort, was altogeliier imexpect- ed and suspicious. The U. Slates' stockade mus- tered seventy men. In the centre of the hall, at a table, sat General Clarke — the indefatigable scourge of these marauders — General Butler, and Mr. Par- sons. On the pan of the Indians, an old council sachem and a war-chief took the lead. The latter, a lull, raw-boned fellow, with an impudent and vil- lainous look, made a threatening speech, which ope- rated eflV'ctually on the Indians, who set up a whoop at I'very pause. He concluded by presenting a while and black wampum, to signify their readiness for peace or war. General Clarke retained an uii- 119 dltered and careless countenance throughout, and with his cane pushed the wampum off the table. Every Indian started from his seat with one of those sudden sounds which express their indignation. Gen. Clarke also arose, and casting upon the savage group a scoruful glance, put his foot upon the insulted symbol, and ordered them to leave the hall. They did so, and all night they were heard debating near the fort. In the morning they came back, and sued for peace. In the same year, an army of a thousand men was led by Clarke against the Indians on the Wabash. When near Vincennes, a halt of nine days was or- dered, in order that the provisions and stores might come up by the river. The boats were delayed — the provisions were spoiled — discontent broke out amonj the troops — rumours unfavourable to Clarke were circulated, and, at length, when within ten days' march of the Indian town, three hundred of the men mutinied and left the camp. All attempts at conciliation failed, and tiie expedition was ruined. Several years afterwards. Clarke was commis- sioned Major General by France, in a clandestine expedition from Kentucky, which he was to organise and conduct against the Spanish possessions on the Mississippi ; but this enterprise was abandoned — General Clarke's commission recalled, and thus closed his public career. Upon the latter days of this great man it is not pleasant to dwell. There were many things to ren- der him a discontented and tinhappy man, and he was so in the most bitter meaning of the terms. His health too became impaired, and for some years, he was atHicted with a rheumatic affection, which, at leuffth terminating in paralysis, deprived him of a limb, and finallv in 1818 caused his death. The last years of his life were passed at a beautiful spot called Locust Grove, the residence of Dr. Croghan, a few miles east of Louisville. Here he died, and Iiere repose his remains. Clarke was never married, but his collateral descendants are numerous and re- spectable. He was well known to many of our citizens, and his funeral was attended by a large assemblage, on which occasion a highly eloquent address on the character of the deceased, was pro- nounced by Judge Rowan. The biog-raphy of Clarke is one of melancholy interest. In liis early years, he was a bold, ambi- tious, enterprising man : and he served his country long and faithfully in the front rank of danger. In his age, these services were forgotten by that coun- try, and he was left to pine away a disappointed, discontented, unhappy being, in obscuritj- and ne- glect. If, under a bitter sense of such injustice, he sought to drown his misery in the oblivious draught, it is almost to be forgiven, and to be considered rather a fading than a fault. Yet the name of Clarke will live for ages on the ,jas:e of his coun- try's chronicles ; and with it will be coupled the proud distinction — ' The Hannibal of the West.' Louisville . BIOGRAPHY Disappointments in love, in those of deep and im- aginative feeling, are like the tornadoes that sweep over southern regions. The heavens may again assume their serenity, but the wide spread desola- tion remains ; and even in after years as the traces of the whirlwind may be discovered amid the exu- IxTaiit uTonth and profusion of flowers. BENJAMIN WEST.-Bom 1738-Died 1820. Benjamin West, one of the most distinguished artistis America has yet produced, was born near Springfield, Penn., Oct. 10th, 1738. His first essay in the arts was made when he was seven years old ; for being left in charge of a sleeping child, he at- tempted to represent its features on paper, with pen and ink. His success was such as to call forth the admiration of his parents. Soon after this he pro- cured from some Indians the red and yellow earths used by them for decorating their persons ; and these with blue from his mother's pad of indigo, he was enabled to give the colours of the objects pictured. The first money received by young West for his labours as an artist, was from Mr. Wayne, for draw- ings on poplar boards ; and Dr. Morris made him a present of a " few dollars to buy paints with." His first effort at portrait-painting was at Lancaster. A gunsmith, named Henry, employed him to paint the death of Socrates, and loaned him the book to make him acquainted with the event. A workman stood as a model for one of the figures. This led to the study of the human form, and showed the youth the importance of anatomy as connected with the arts of design. In 1756, West's mother died; and in that year our painter left his birthplace, and came to Phila- delphia. Here he pursued his professional avoca tions as a portrait-painter for some time and with marked success. After a while he visited New York, where he remained eleven months, constantly occupied ; at this lime a favourable opportunity oc- curring to visit Europe, West embarked for Italy, being then twenty-one years of age. At that time, the sight of an American artist, and that one too a quaker, was by no means common in Italy, and West was every where received with the attention to which his talents entitled him. At Rome, he met with the distinguished artist, Mengs, who treated him with great kindness, and even advised him as to the proper course to be pursued for his improve- ment. " See," said he, " and examine every thing deserving of your attention here, and after making a few drawings of about half a dozen of the best statues, go to Florence, and observe what has been done for art in the collections there. Then proceed to Bologna, and study the works of the Caracci , afterward visit Parma, and examine attentively the pictures of Corregio ; and then go to Venice, and view the productions of Tintoretto, Titian, and Paul Veronese. When you have made this tour, come back to Rome, and paint an historical composition to be exhibited to the Roman publick." After a severe illness of eleven months. West proceeded on the tour recommended by Mengs, and returning to Rome, painted his pictures of Cimon and Iphigenia, and Angelica and Medona. These procured for him academical honours. He now de- termined to visit England, and on the 20th of June, 1763, we find him at London. The commencement of his career in that city, is thus stated by Mr. Les- lie : " When Mr. Weft arrived in London, the gen- eral opinion was so unfavourable to modern art, that it was scarcely thought possible for an artist to painl an historical or fancy picture worthy to hang up be- 120 [Benjamin West. J side the olil masters. Hogarth had produced hi.-, matchh'ss pictures in vain. The connoisseur who would have ventured to place the ini;iiitahh' scenes of the "Marriage a la mode," on his walls, (I mean the pictures, the prints were in great request,) would have hazardi'd most fearfidlv his reputation for taste. This prejudice awainst living genius contin- ued until the arrival of West, and it must have re- quired some courage in a young man at that time to make his appearance in England, in the character of an historical painter. One of the first pictures, if not the very first he produced, was froin the story of Pylades and Orestes, (there is an admirable copy of it in this country, painted by Mr. Sully.) This pic- ture attracted so much altentinn. that Mr. West's servant was employed from morning till night in opening the door to visiters, and the man received a considerable sum of money by showing it, while the master was obliged to content himself with emp- ty praise. All admired, but no one dared to buy it. It was curious enough, however, that the reputation of this picture raised him into high favour as a por- trait-painter. West's talents thus becoming known, soon made him acquainted, among others, with the archbishop of York, for whom he painted his Agrippina. His success in the inanagement of this subject, procured his presentation to George HI. " The king receiv- ed West with easy frankness, assisted him to place the Agrippina in a favourable light, removed the at- tendants, and brought in the queen, to whom he pre- sented our ipiaker. He related to her majesty the history of the picture, and bade her notice the sim- plicity of the design and the beautv of the colouring. ' There is another noble Roman subject,' observed his majesty, 'the departure of Regulus from Rome — would it not make a fine picture V ' It is a magnifi- cent subject,' said the painter. ' Then,' replied the king, ' you shall paint it for me.' He turned with a smile to the queen, and said, ' The archbishop made one of his sons read Tacitus to Mr. West, but I will read Livy to him myself — that part where he de- scribes the departure of Regidus.' So saying, he read the passage very gracefully, and then repeated his command that the picture should be painted." The Regulus v/as successful, and was followed by the " Death of Wolfe," in which he substituted the costume of the day for the classick dress. Mr. West now suggested to the king a series of pictures on the progress of revealed religion, which were order- ed. He diviiled his subject " into four dispensations ; the Antediluvian, the Patriarchal, the Mosaical, and the Prophetical. They contained in all thirty-six subjects, eighteen of which belonged to the Old Testament, the rest to the New. They were all sketched, and twentv-eight were executed, for which West received in all twenty-one thousand seven hundred and five pounds. A work so varied, so ex- tensive, and so noble in its nature, was never before undertaken bv any painter." Another extensive series of historical pictures paint- ed by West, was drawn from the reign of Edward HI.; they were — " 1. Edward HI. embracing the black prince, after the battle of Cressy. 2. The Installa- tion and order of the Garter. 3. The black prince receiving the king of France and his son prisoners, at Poictiers. 4. St. George vanquishing the Dragon. 5. Queen Phillipa defeating David of Scotland, in the battle of Neville's cross. 6. Queen Phillipa interceding with Edward for the Burgesses of Calais. 7. King Edward forcing the passage of the Somme. 8 King Edward crowning Sir 1: Eustace de Ribaumont at Calais. These works are very large. They were the fruit of long study and much labour, and with the exception of the death of Wolfe and the battle of la Ho^ue, they were the best of all the numerous works of this artist." On the death of Reynolds, West was chosen President of the Royal Academy, and delivered his inaugural address in March, 1792. In 1803, West was dismissed from employment by the successor of George 111. "This extraordinary proceeding," says Gait, " rendered the studies of the best part of the artist's life useless, and deprived him of that honourable provision, the frint of his talents and industry, on which he had counted for the repose of his declining years. For some time it affected him deeply, and he was at a loss what steps to take." But he, however, still continued his professional pursuits, and painted the " healing in the temple," a copy of which he presented to the Pennsylvania hospital ; this was followed by the " descent of the Holy Ghost and Christ at the Jordan," ten feet by fourteen ; the " Crucifixion," sixteen feet by twenty- j eight ; the "Ascension," twelve feet by eighteen ; and the "Inspiration of St. Peter," of nearly the same size. ' Nor must we omit to mention his " Christ rejected," or his ' Death on the pale horse," which is exhibiting at the present time in the United Slates. West's I health now began to decline. " Domestick sorrow ] mingled with professional disappointment. Eliza beth Shewell — for more than fifty years his kind , and tender companion — died on the 6th of Decem- ber, 1817, and West, seventy-nine years old, felt that he was soon to follow. His wife and he had loved each other some sixty years — had seen their children's children — and the world had no compen- sation to offer. He began to sink, and though stil) to be found at his easel, his hand had lost its early alacrity. It was evident that all this was to cease soon ; that he was suffering a slow, and a general and easy decay. The venerable old man sat in his study among his favourite pictures, a breathing im- age of piety and contentment, awaiting calmly the hour of his dissolution. Without any fixed com- plaint, his mental faculties unimpaired, his cheerful- ness uneclipsed, and with looks serene and benevo- lent, he expired 11th March, 1820, in the eighty- second year of his age. He was buried beside Reynolds, Opie, and Barry, in St. Paul's cathedral. The pall was borne by noblemen, ambassadors, and academicians ; His two sons and grandson were chief mourners ; and sixty coaches brought up the splendid procession." In speaking of West's character, the present pres- ident of the royal academy, Sir Martin Shee, re» 16 ["Moses."— B. West.] 122 marks. " Well grounded in the elementary princi- ples of liis profession, he was as conversant with the theory, as he was dexterous in the practice of his art. It is no exaegeration to say of hini, that in the exercise of those powers of the pencil, to the at- tainment of which his ambition more particularly directed him, he was unrivalled in his day. Such, indeed, was the facility of his hand, and wilh so much certainty did he proceed ia his operations, that he rarely tailed to achieve whatever he proposed 10 accoiii|)lish, and within the time which he had allotted for its performance. " Indefatiaible application and irrepressible ar- dour in his pursuit, succeeded in obtaining for him that general knowledge of his subject, which sel- dom fails to reward the toils of resolute and well- directed sludy. No artist of his lime, perhaps, was better acquainted with the powers and the expedi- ents, the exigences and the resources of his art. No man could more sagaciously estimate the quali- ties of a fine picture, or more skilfully analyze the merits combined in its production. "The ambition of West directed him to the high- est department of his art. In his hands the pencil was always etuploved for the noblest purposes — on subjects the moral interest of which outweighs their mechanical execution. He delighted to commemo- rate heroick deeds, to illustrate the annals of sacred history, and perpetuate the triumphs of patriotism and publick virtue. " The degree of success with which the honour- able exertions of West were attended, may, I con- ceive, be fairly determined by this test ; let the most prejudiced of those who are inclined to ques- tion his claim to the rank of a great artist examine the series of prints engraved from his works. I would, in particular, entreat them to view with some attention, the death of General Wolfe — the battles of la Ilogue and the Boyne — the return of Regulus to Carthage — Agrippina bearing the ashes of Germanicns — the young Hannibal swearing eternal enmity to the Romans — the death of Epami- nondas — the death of Chevalier Bayard — Pyrrhus, when a boy, brought to Glaucus, king of Illyria, for protection — and Penn's treaty with the Indians ; not to mention many others, perhaps eiiuallv deserv- ing of ennineration. Let these well-known exam- ples of his ability be candidly considered, and where is the artist, whose mind is enlarged beyond the n.irrow sphere of his own peculiar practice ; where is the connoisseur, whose taste has not been formed by a catalogue raisomie, or in the atmosphere of an auction-room ; who will hesitate to acknowledge that the author of such noble compositions may just- ly claim a higher station in his professsion than has been hitherto assigned to him, and well merits to be considered, in his peculiar department, the most dis- tinguished artist of the age in which he lived ?" For many anecdotes, and for further information in regard to Benjamin West, we refer our readers to Dunlap's valuable " History of the Rise and Prog- ress of the Arts of Design in the United States," a work which has been used freely in compiling this briel sketch, and which contains more information in regard to .Vmerican artists, and the history of their interesting etforts in the pursuit of the art to which they have devoted themselves, than can be found in any other book. INDI.\N M.4NNERS. The Inilian men, when young, are hunters and warriours ; when old, counsellors ; for all their gov- ernment is by counsel of the sages. There is no force, there are no prisons, no officers to compel obedience, or inflict punishment. Hence, they gen- erally study oratory, the best speaker having the most influence. The Indian women till the ground, dress the food, nurse and bring up the children, and 1 preserve and hand down to posterity the memory of publick transactions. These employments of men and women are accounted natural and honourable. Having f(^w artificial wants, they have abundance of time and leisure for improvement by conversation. Our laborious manner of life, compared with theirs, they deem slavish and base ; and the learning on which we value ourselves, they regard as frivolous and usch^ss. An instance of this occurred at the treaty of Lancaster in Pennsylvania, A. D. 1744, be- tween the government of Virginia and the Six Na- tions. After the principal business was settled, the commissioners from Virginia acquainted the Indians by a sp(!ech, that there was, at Williamsburgh, a col- lege, with a fund for educating Indian youth ; and that if the Six Nations would send down half a dozen of their young lads to that college, the government would take care that ihey should be well provided for, and instructed in all the learning of the white people. It is one of the Indian rules of politeness not to answer a publick proposition tho same day that it is made ; they think that if would be treating it as a light matter, and that they show it respect In taking time to consider it, as uf a matter that is iju- portant. They therefore deferred their answer till the day following, when iheir s;)eaker began by ex- pressing their deep sense of the kindness of the Vir- ginia government in making them that offer ; " for we know," says he, " that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the maintenance of our j'oung men while wilh you would be very expensive to you. We are convinced, tlierefore, that you mean to do us good by your pro- posal, and we thank you heartily. But you, who are wise, must know that different nations have dif- ferent conceptions of things ; and you will therefore not take it amiss if our ideas of this kind of educa- tion happen not to be the same wilh yours. We have had some experience of it ; several of our young people were formerly brought up at the colleges of the northern provinces — they were instructed in all your sciences ; but when they came back to us, they were bad runners — igmirant of every means of living in the woods — unable to bear either cold or hunger — knew neither how to build a cabin, take a deer, or kill a:i enemy — spoke our language imperfectly, and were therefore neither fit for hunters, warriours, nor counsellors ; they were, in short, good for nothing. We are, however, not the less obliged by your kind offer, though we decline accepting it; and, to show our grateful sense of it, if the gentlemen of Virginia will send us a dozen of their sons, we will take great care of their education, instruct them in all we know, and make MEN of them." Having frequent occasions to hold publick councils, they have acquired great order and decency in con- ducting them. The old men sit in the foremost ranks, the warriours in the next, and the women and children in the hindmost. The business of the 123 women is to take exact notice of what passes, im- print it in their memories, and communicate it to their children. They are the records of the piiblick council, and they preserve traditions of the stipula- tions in treaties one hundred years back ; which, when we compare them with our writings, we al- ways find exact. He that would speak, rises ; the rest observe a profound silence. When he has fin- ished and sits down, they leave him five or six minutes to recollect ; that if he has omitted any thing he intended to say, or has any thing to add, he may rise again and deliver it. To interrupt another even in common conversation, is reckoned highly indecent. How different this is from the conduct of one of our legislative assemblies, where scarcely a day passes without some confusion, that makes the speaker hoarse in calling to order ; and how differ- ent from the mode of conversation in many polite circles, where, if you do not deliver your sentence with great rapidity, you are cut off in the middle of it by the impatient loquacity of those with whom you converse. BIOGRAPHY. JOHN MARSHALL, CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE U. S. This venerable and distinguished man died at Philadelphia on the 6th. July 1837. In ill health, emaciated, and full of years, the event was not unex- pected either to his friends or to himself. He had lived eighty years, and his valuable life has been identilied with the most important events in our histo- ry. It cannot be denied, that as a soldier, a lawyer, a legislator, a historian, and lastly as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, Mr. Mar- shall has exhibited pre-eminent talents, and sustained himself with endurinff honour. His elevated quali- fications for the Chief Justiceship, indeed his seeming natural-adaptedness to that precise situation at the pe- culiar and important period when he was called to it, can be fully appreciated only by those who can un- derstand the difficulties of framing a new, and indeed almost original system of National Jurisprudence adapted to an experimental government, and that gov- ernment a Republic, and who can perceive the suc- cess of his labours in that undertaking, and under- stand the importance of their results. The office of Chief Justice of the United States is most difficult, most important, most responsible, and second only to the Presidency in every point of view. That Mr. Marshall has acquitted himself with distinguished honour in that station, the expressions of the Bar in the different parts of the country abundantly indicate. " The Chief Justice," says the Philadelphia In- quirer, " was born in Virginia, on the 24th of Sep- tember, 1755; and, as early as the summer of 1775, received a commission as lieutenant of a company of minute-men, and was shortly after engaged in the battle of the Great Bridge, where the British troops, under Lord Dunmore, were repulsed with great gal- lantry. He was subsequently enjjaged in the me- morable batdes of Brandywine, Germantown, and Monmouth, and, in 1780 obtained a license to prac- tice law. He returned to the army shortly after, and continued in the service until the termination of Arnold's invasion. " In the spring of 1782 he was elected a member of the State Legislature, and in the autumn of the same year, a member of the Executive Council, and married in 1783. In 1788 he was elected as repre- sentative of the city of Richmond in the Legislature of Virginia, and continued to occupy that station for the years 1789., 1790, 1791, and upon the recall of Mr. Monroe, as Minister, from France, President Washington solicited Mr. Marshall to accept the appointment as his surces.'sor, but he respectfully declined. In 1799 he was elected and took his seat in Congress, and in 1800 he was appointed Secreta- ry of War. "On the 31st of January, 1801, he became Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, which distinguished station he continued to fill with unsullied dignity and pre-eminent ability, until the close of his mortal career. His biographer eloquent- ly observes : — ' AVhat indeed strikes us as the most remarkable i-n his whole character, even more than his splendid talents, is the entire consistency of his public life and principles. There is nothing in either which calls for apology or concealment. Ambition never seduced him from his principles — popular clamour never deterred him from the strict perform- ance of his duty. Amid the extravagances of party spirit, he stood with a calm and steady inflexibility — neither bending to the pressure of adversity, nor bounding with the elasticity of success. He lived as such a man should live, by and with his principles. If we were tempted to say in one word in what he excelled all other men, we should say, in wisdom ; in the union of that virtue, which ripened under the hardy discipline of principles, with that of knowledge, which constantly sifted and refined its old treasures, and as constantly gathered new. The Constitution, since its adoption, owes more to him than to any oth- er single mind, for its true interpretation and vindica- tion. Whether it lives or perishes, his exposition of its principles will be an enduring mnniimcnt to his fame, so long as solid reasoning, profound imalv- .124 sis, and sober views of government shall invite the leisure, or command the altcntion of statesmen and jurists.' " The following portrait of Chief Justice Marshall was drawn by a distinguislied jurist, since deceased: He was in his persoa tall, nieairre, emaciated, his muscho relaxed, and his joints so loosely connected as not only to disfiiialify him, apparently, for any vig- orous exertions of the body, but to destroy every tiling like elegance and harmony in his air and move- ments. Indeed, in bis whole appearance and de- meanour — dress, atliude, and gestures — sittinir, stand- ing, or walking — he was as far removed I'rom the idolizing graces of Lord Chesterfield, as any other gentleman on earth. To continue the portrait : his head and face were small in proportion to his height; his complexion swarthy ; the muscles of his face beinj; relaxed, gave him the appearance of a man of eighty years of age. His eoiniteuance had a faithful expression of great good humour and hilarity ; while his black eyes — the unerring index — possessed an irradiating spirit, which proclaimed the imperial powers of the mind that sat enthroned within. This extraonliuary man, without the aid of fancy, without the advantage of person, voice, attitude, ges- ture, or any of the ornaments'of an orator, deserves to be considered as one of the most eloquent men in the world ; if eloquence may be said to consist in the power of seizing the attention with irresistible force, and never permitting it to elude the grasp until the hearer has received the conviction which the speaker intends. As to his person, it has already been described. His voice was dry and hard, his attitude in his most effective orations was extremely awkward ; as it was not unusual for liini to stand with his gestures pro- ceeding from his right arm, and consisting merely in a vehement perpendicular swins; of it from above the elevation of his head to llie bar, behind which he was accustomed to stand. As to fancy, if she held a seat in his mind at all, which I very much doubt, his gigantic genius tram- pled witli disdain on all her flower-decked plants and bloomintr parterres. How, then, will you ask with a look of incredulous curiosity — how is it possible that such a man could hold the attention of an audience enchained through a speech of ordinary length ? I will tell you. He possessed an original and almost supernatural faculty, of developing the subject by a simple glance of his mind, and detecting at once the very point on which the controversy depended. No matter what the question, though ten times more knotty than the " gnarled oak," the lightning of heaven is not more resistless than was liis astonishing penetration. Nor did the exercise of it seem to cost him an elTort. On the contrary, it was as easy as a vision. I am per- suaded that his eyes did not fly over a landscape and take in its various objects with more promptitude and facility than his mind embraced and aualvzed the most complex objects. Possessing while at the bar this intellectual eleva- tion, which enabled him to look down and compre- hend the whole gromid at once, he determined im- mediately, and without diflicnlty, which side the question might be most advantageously approached and assailed; in a bad cause, his art consisted in lay- ing his premises so remotely from the point directly in debate, or else in terms so generous and specious, that the hearer, seeing no consequences which could be drawn from them, was just as willing to ad- mit them as not: but his premises once admitted, the demonstration, however distant, followed as certainl)', as cogently, and as inevitably, as any demonstration in Euclid. All his eloquence consisted in the apparently deep self-conviction, and emphatic earnestness of his man- ner: the correspondent simplicity and energy of his style, the close logical connection of his thoughts, and the easy gradations by which he opened his lights on the attentive minds of his hearers. THE BELVIDERE APOLLO. Heard ye the arrow liurile in the sky 1 Heard ye the dra^on-moiisler's deathful cry ? In si'ttler) majesty of fierce disdain. Proud of his niisiit, yet scornful of the slain. The heavenly archer stands — no human birth. No perishable denizon of earth ! Youth blooms inunortal in his beardless face, A god in strength, with more than godlike grace ! All, all divine — no struggling muscle glows. Through heaving vein no mantling life-blood flows; But animate with deity alone, In deathless glory lives the breathing stone. Bright-kindling with a conqueror's stern delight, His keen eye tracks the arrow's fateful flight; Burns his indignant cheek with vengeful fire. And his lip quivers with insulting ire ; Firm-fix'd his tread, yet liglit as when on high. Ho walks the impalpable and pathless sky ; The rich luxuriance of his hair confined In gracefid ringlets, wantons on the wind. That lifts in sport his mantle's drooping fold. Proud to display that form of faultless mould. Mighty Ephesian ! with an eagle's flight. Thy proud soul mounted through the fields of light, Viewed the bright conclave of Heaven's blest abode, And the cold marble leapt to life a God : Contagious awe through breathless myriads ran, And nations bowed before the work of man. For mild he seemed as in Elysian bowers. Wasting in careless ease the joyous hours ; Haughty as bards have sung, with princely sway Curbing the fierce flame-breathing steeds of day ; Beauteous as vision seen in dreamy sleep By holy maid on Delphi's haunted steep; '.Mid the dim twilight of the laurel grove, Too fair to worship, too divine to love. Vet on that form in wild delirious trance. With more than reverence gazed the maid of France; Day after day the love-sick dreamer stood With him alone, nor thought it solitude; To cherish grief, her task, her ilearest care. Her one fond hope — to perish — or despair. Oft as the shining light her sight beguiUd, Blushing she shrunk, and thought the marble smiled; Oft, breathless listening, heard, or seemed to hear A voice of nmsic melt upon the ear. Slowly slie wan'd, and cold and senseless grown, Closed her dim eyes, herself benumbed to stone; Yet love in death a sickly strength supplied. Once more she gazed, then feebly smiled, and died. In water sound passes -1708 feet in a second; in air from 1130 to 1141. 125 BIOGRAPHY. WILLIAM PRESCOTT. [From Knapp's American Biographj'.] William Prescott, was born in 1726, at Grotiin, in Massachusetlg, and was an officer of" the Provin- cial troops at the capture of Cape Breton in 1708. He was distinguished in tlie campaign and was offered a commission in the regular army, which he declined. He was engaged in agricultural and civil employments until near the commencement of the Revolutionary war. He was a member of the Pro- vincial Congress, in 1774 and when the militia was or- ganized, by that body, he was appointed to the com- mand of a regiment. He marched to Concord as soon as he heard that Gage had sent Pitcairn with forces to destroy the stores at Concord ; before he knew one drop of blood had been spilled. The share he had in the memorable battle of the seventeenth of June, 1775, should not be forgotten. He proved himself worthy of command by his prowess on that day. The American army had been quartered at Cam- bridge nearly two months, and no blow had been struck to rid the country of the British troops or to encourage the natives ; some uneasiness seemed to show itself in the camp, and more abroad, that great- er energy was not shown ; but the wise thought to conquer by Fabian wisdom, while others were for decisive measures. The army at Cambridge was known to be large enough to demolish the British, if ihev could be got at. In this state of feeling, it was thought proper to make some demonstrations of cour- age and intention of acting offensively 3.x\A fearlessly. Col. Prescott was sent with the fragments, or rather, the skeletons of three regiments, on the night of the sixteenth of June, to occupy a station on Bunker's Hill. On viewing that eminence he found it an in- eligible spot ; and he looked along to the right, and found that a spur of that hill which was now called Breed's Hill, was the most proper situation, in every respect for a battle-ground. Considering that they were within the limits of their orders, Prescott and Col. Gridley, the engineers, began a redoubt on the right of Breed's Hill. It was about one hundred and forty feet square, with two open passages for ingress and egress. On the left of the redoubt, run- ning northeasterly, was a breastwork of sods, not much over four feet high ; but not, as has been sta- ted, extending to Mystick river ; it did not extend one quarter of the way to it. The line frotn this breastwork was made of two post-and-rail fences, placed about four feet apart in parallel lines, and between them was trod the newly-mown grass, ma- king quite as good a screen for the militia as the redoubt or the breastwork. General Ward, concluding from the firing from the summit of Copp's Hill in Boston, that the Brit- ish would make a struggle to get possession of the works, offered to relieve Prescott and his men, but they unanimously declined the offer, but earnestly insisted on reinforcements. These were reluctantly given, as the commander-in-chief thought that an attack on his camp was contemplated, and in such case his fortified camp, indifferently fortified as it was, was a better place for a general action than Bunker's Hill. Early in the morning, from the battery on Copp's Hill, one of the men in or near the redoubt was shot and was instantly buried on the spot ; but although the roar of the cannon from Copp's Hill was inces- sant, no further damage was done by their shots • and in aid of this battery, the Livelv, man-of-v/ar, was brought to bear, and in fact she began to can- nonade at early dawn. General Gage wishing to drive the Provincials from the hill, sent Major-General Howe, and Briga- dier-General Pigot, with ten companies of grenadiers and ten of light infantry, with some artillery to per- form this service. These generals reconnoitring the American forces, on their arrival at Morton's Point, thought best to wait for reinforcements from Bostim. For these, Howe waited from noon to about three o'clock, before the battle was com- menced. The British began a slow march up the hill in two lines, stopping at times to give the artillery a chance to play. But the angle of elevation was such that it did but little execution. The Provincials wasted no ammunition ; they had but a scanty supply. They were ordered to put four buck- shot to a bullet, and to reserve their fire until the enemy were at blankshot distance. At this moment they poured in upon the approaching foe a most destructive volley. The effect was not more destructive than appalling. The British soldiery, expecting nothing but random shots from undisci- plined militia, were astounded at such deadly fires, and their line was broken in confusion. Some com- panies had not twenty soldiers fit for duty when they were about to rally. The British officers had the greatest difficulty to bring their troops into line again. At length they came up a second lime toward the works, but with some wavering ; and in less than fifteen minutes their line broke in still greater con- fusion than before. Clinton saw this from Boston, and hastened over to assist Howe. Both the gen- erals addressed the soldiers ; called to mind their former wreaths of glory, and the everlasting disgrace of being beaten by raw militia. Howe swore to them that he would never survive the disgrace, if they were beaten that day. By this time, Charles- town, consisting of four hundred houses, was in a blaze. This Clinton had done to terrify the neigh- bouring army. On the third attack they were undel the necessity of resorting to skill, not daring to put it on the the score of bravery a third time. Pigot, with a considerable force, took a circuitous route around the south side of the hill, and came upon the southwestern angle of the redoubt, and instantly sca- led the slight works. Pitcairn was with him, and was shot through the body, as he was about to leap into the redoubt. Pigot, being a short man, was lifted by his soldiers on the sods, and jimiped into the area without harm. The Provincials were now- attacked on the east and on the west ; their ammu- nition was exhausted ; and they had few or no bay- onets ; and after beating their assailants a while with the butts of their guns, Prescott ordered a re- treat. Those at the breastwork retreated, and those at the rail-fence followed, over Charlestown neck, northward. Until the commencement of the retreat, but few of the Americans had been killed. Their unwilling- ness to leave the ground at the proper time, was 126 the cause of the considerable number of killed and wounded. Capt. Knowlton having a fine large com- pany near Mystick river, moved up in good order, and covered the retreat of those from the redoubt and breastwork. The battle ended between five and six o'clock. The wind during the fight was brisk and westerly, and blew the smoke directly into the face of the enemy ; but as the smoke arose over the heads of the British, the Americans, as it were, look- ing under the cloud, saw where to fire. Prescott was in all the fight in the redoubt ; the other portion of the Massachusetts militia at the breastworks. The New Hampshire troops, under Stark, Dearborn, and others, were at the rail-fence. They were march- ing from their native slate towards Cambridge, and went on to the battle-ground by their own impulses, not having received any orders from the commander- in-chief The British had between three and four thousand in the fight. They acknowledged ten hundred and fifty-four killed and wounded, with a great propor- tion of officers. Their number was most unquestion- ably larger ; for they brought between three and four hundred corpses of the slain and buried them in the corner of a new burying-ground at the bottom of the Common in Boston. The others were buried on Breed's Hill, where they fell. The Americans had fifteen hundred in the fight, but perhaps there were a few more at times, for vol- unteers came on to the ground, expended their povv- der, and retreated, when they could do no more ser- vice to the cause. The Provincials had one hundred and thirty-nine killed, and three hundred and four- teen wounded and missing. The officers who fell on our side, were Col. Gardner, of Cambridge, Lt. Col. Parker, of Chcltnsfi)rd, and Majors Moore and M'Cleary — all men of distinction and value, and he- roes in the cause — with Major-General Joseph War- ren. Warren assumed no command on that day. He had been commissioned as a major-general by the Provincial Congress but four days previous, and had not taken any command ; nor had he, in fact, been sworn into oflice, except as every one had an oath in heaven to live free or die. VVarren was, at the moment of his fall, president of the Provincial Con- gress, and Chairman of the Committee of Safety. He had put some one in the chair, and mounted his horse at Watertown, where the legislature was in session, to come and encourage his fellow-cilizeus in the fight. When he entered the redoubt, Pres- cott ofTered him tlie command, but he declined it, saying, " I come to Ir.arn trar under an experienced soldier, not to take any command." He was the martyr of that day's glory. His death was felt as a calamity to the cause, and to the nation. He was in the prime of life, being only thirtv-five years of age, a spirit as bold and dauntless as ever was bla- zoned in legends, or recorded in history. He was a prudent, cautious, but fearless statesman ; made to govern men, and to breathe into them a portion of his own heroick soul. His eloquence was of a high order ; his voice was fine, and of great compass, and he modulated it at will. His appearance had the air of a soldier — graceful and commanding, united to the manners of a finished geiitlemau. The British thought that his life was of the utmost importance to ihe American army ; — of so much importance that they would no longer hold together after his fall. They sadly mistook the men they had to deal with. His blood was not shed in vain ; it cried from the ground for vengeance ; and his name will become a watch-word in the hour of peril and glory. The name of the humblest individual who perish ed in that fight will be remembered by the town or parish from whence he came, and be generally en- rolled on the books of the corporation. Young, sub- stantial yeomen, or industrious mechanicks, they were owners of the soil for which they fought. The battle-scene was imposing ; the ground was in the immediate neighbourhood of a city, whose in- habitants were watching the progress of events anxious for the nearest friends, while the roar ol cannon from ships-of-war, and from floating and sta- tionary batteries, was followed or commingled with incessant volleys of musketry; a well-built, compact town, was seen in one mass of flames — and all this, but the commencement of troubles — was a sight which was appalling to every American, and seemed to shake even the enemy, mind and body, together. The British troops, in considerable numbers, occu- pied the hill that night, and enlarged the redoubt to nearly twice the original extent ; but they did not venture to light their fires — they labored by the sink- ing, flickering lights which shot up from the smould- ering ruins of Charlestown. for those struggling for liberty, the event of this battle was most fortunate. The American troops had done enough for honour ; enough to produce an impression of their prowess, on the minds of their enemies ; enough to give them confidence in them- selves; and to show that ihey had learned soinething in the way of preparing themselves to correct the errours of judgement in planning a fight. They suf- fered enough to feel their loss deeply, and yet not sufiiciently, in any way, to weaken their forces. The wound received was too deep to be healed at once ; the sight was too awful to be soon forgotten. If the army had come down from Cambridge and Roxbury to the succour, the British would have been destroyed altogether ; but with the disposition of the king of England at this period, and the spirit of the ministry, the whole force of the British nation would have been brought to crush us at once. Col. Prescott was a noble, bold, brave, country- gentleman, whose heart was patrioiick to the very core. Where danger was, there he was to be found. The good of his country was his chief, his sole de- sire. He was again found in arms at the capture of Burgoyne. At this event he considered the freedom of the country secure, though there might be nuich hard fighting to come. He resigned his commission and retired to his farm in Pepperill, a new town ta- ken from Groton the place of his nativity. He was several times sent to the legislature and was an effi- cient member of this body. He suffered with others of that hand of freemen who achieved our independ- ence, by the depreciation of paper money. What they received as a representation of sjiecie became worthless as rags, an eyesore to the )iossessor, and a stain on tlie page of our country's history. Col. Prescott died in 1795, in the seventieth vear of his age ; leaving an only son. Judge William Prescott, a statesman and jurist, who has ably sustained the rights and principles for which his father fought and bled. 12-; SKETCH OP THE LIFE OP THE HON. NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. [From the Boston Daily Advertiser of March 17, 1838.] It gives us pain to announce the decease of our (distinguished townsman, Dr. Bowditch ; which took place yesterday, at one o'clock, after an illness of several weeks. The death of this eminent man will be felt in America as a national loss. His name was identi- fied with the science of his native country ; and our national character with men of science abroad, is indebted to no one individual — with the exception, perhaps, of Dr. Franklin — so much, as to him. Dr. Bowditch was born on the twenty-sixth of March, 1773, at Salem, in the state of Massachu- setts. In his education, he had no other advantages than those afforded by the common town-schools, which at that period, were comparatively meager, and inadequate to the great purposes of disciplining and storing the mind with knowledge. At the usual age, he was placed as a clerk, or ap- prentice, in the store of a merchant, in Salem ; and, while in that situation, it is said, he used to employ his leisure time in his favourite science of mathe- malicks, and various practical subjects connected with it. His attention was directed, at an early age, to the Principia of his great master, Newton. But, as this work was published in the Latin language, which he had not then learned, he was obliged to begin his reading of it, by asking some of the Cambridge stu- dents during their vacations at Salem, to explain it to him in English. He soon discovered, however, that his own knowledge of the subject, with the aid of the inathematical processes and diagrams on the pages of the Principia, enabled him to comprehend the reasoning contained in the modern and technical Latin of the work, more readily than he could do with the help of the superiuur knowledge which the university students possessed of the Latin of Cicero and Virgil ; and he was soon convinced that his shortest course would be to acquire a knowledge of the language for himself; which by great perseve- rance he accomplished, and was enabled to read any work of science in it. And thus he was anoth- er instance, like that of the ancient Greek writer, who relates of himself, that during his residence at Rome, he obtained a knowledge of the language of tlie Romans, by his knowledge of the suhjects which they discussed in it. He afterward learned French, for the purpose of having access to the treasures of French mathematical science ; and, at a late period of his life, he acquired some knowledge of the Ger- man language. A little circumstance connected with his study of Newton's Principia, will not be uninteresting to the learned and the unlearned. The Latin copy of it, which Dr. Bowditch used, was presented to him by a mercantile friend in Salem, who made no preten- sion to science, and would never have thought of opening the work ; but he had preserved it in his little library of popular works, as a book that possi- bly might one day be of use to some person. By a remarkable coincidence of circumstances, the vol- ume came to the knowledge of Dr. Bowditch ; and his friend, upon being requested to lend it, with great liberality presented it to him — the man who, above all others in the country, was the best able to make the most advantageous use of it. So far as great effects may be said to flow from small causes, what important consequences may have followed from the preservation of this single and apparently worthless volume, by an individual who could make no use of it ! Dr. Bowditch sometimes alluded to this occur- rence ; and, on the occasion of presenting a copy of his La Place to a friend — who declined taking it because he was no better able to read it, than his mercantile friend could the Principia — delicately in- sisted upon its acceptance ; and, in the last resort, reminded his friend, that if not useful to him person- ally, it might, perhaps, be placed in the hands of some one, to whom it might be valuable, as the copy of the Principia had been to himself. Dr. Boivditch did not remain long in the situation of a merchant's clerk. His mathematical talent, in a town eminently distinguished for nautical enter- prise, could not fail of being called into exercise, in connexion with the art of navigation ; and a large portion of the well-known skill of the navigators of Salem may justly be considered as the frtiits of the instruction which may be traced, directly or indirect- ly, to his scientifick acquirements. He was, be- sides, a practical navigator himself for a few years ; principally, if not exclusively, in the East India voyages, which gave him the most favourable oppor- tunities of rendering his mathematical studies prac- tically useful to the nautical interest of his country. At that period, the common treatise on navigation was the well-known work of Hamilton Moore ; which has occasioned many a shipwreck, but which Dr. Bowditch, like other navigators, was obliged to use. But, upon examining it in his daily operations, he found it abounding with blunders and overrun with typographical errours, particularly in the nauti- cal tables, in which, above all parts of the M'ork, great accuracy was indispensable ; of these last errours, many thousands, of more or less importance, were corrected in his early revisions of the work. He published several editions of Moore's work un- der that author's name ; but the whole fabrick at length underwent so many changes and radical im- provements by the addition of new, and the rejection of old and worthless matter, as to warrant his pub- lishing it under his own name ; and the work of Moore is now only remembered from its having been superseded by " Bowditch's Navigator." It may be added, that he was enabled to give the greater accuracy to his work by means of a collec- tion of manuscript journals of his seafaring towns- men, preserved in the valuable East India Society's museum, in Salem. By a rule of that association — which is believed to have been proposed by Dr. Bowditch — each member was required to carry with him on every voyage, a blank-book, methodically ar- ranged, for the purpose of keeping a journal of ob- servations and remarkable occurrences ; the journals, (now amounting to many volumes,) at the end of the voyage were returned to the museum, and they form a repository of innumerable observations in nautical and geographical science not to be found in any other sources. In connexion with this part of the subject, it should be further observed, that Dr. Bowditch also employed himself during several seasons (1805, '6, '7,) in making an elaborate hydrographical survey ol 128 the harbour of Salem, with the adjacent harbours of Marblehead, Beverly, and Manchester; of whicii he piihlisljed an admirable chart of surpassing beau- ty and accuracy. With such extraordinary exact- ness was this laborious work performed, that the pilots of the port discovered, and were tlie first to observe to the author, that many of their landmarks — which, however. Dr. Bowdilch did not know to be such — were in fact laid down with such perfect ac- curacy in the .survey, that the various ranges on the chart corresponded with the utmost possible pre- cision to those of the natural objects themselves. The ardour and perseverance which distino;uished Dr. Bowditch throu>;h life, were very early conspic- uous in the prosecution of his mathemaiical and philosophical studies. While his pecuniary means were very limited, he used to make copious abstracts of the scientifick papers in tli.-it immense repository, the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London ; this labour was continued through many years ; and the numerous large volumes of these manuscript abstracts in his library, embracing a great portion of that whole work, still remain the testimonials of his untiring industry and zeal in the cause of science. During a large part of his life he was a principal contributor to the Memoirs of the American .Acad- emy ; and it is unnecessary to add, that his coinmu- jiications are among the most important in that work. He is also author of a few reviews in the leading journals of the time. In the year 1806, at the particular instance, as it was said, of the late Chief Justice Parsons — whose extraordinary attainments include a knowledge of the higher branches of mathematicks — Dr. Bowditch was elected professor of mathematicks and natural philosophy in the university of Cambridge. He could not, however, be persuaded to accept the of- fice ; principally, it is believed, if not whollv, from an apprehension, that the circumstance of bis not having been educated at that university might ren- der the discharge of his duties less satisfactory to himself than he could wish. Those who knew him best, however, often remarked upon his c.Mraordiiia- ry power of communicating instruction in the clear- est manner. And Chief Justice Parsons, as com- petent a judge in the case as could be found in any country, has said to the writer of this notice, that of all the men he had known, he had never found one who could make any mathematical proposition so transparently clear and intelligible by mere oral statement, without a diagram or figures, as Dr. Bow- ditch could. It may also here be added, that Dr. Bowditch had the highest respect for the great mathematical attainments of Chief Justice Parsons ; and it may be interesting to many persons to know, that under the Rules of Lunar Observations in the " Practical Navigator," Dr. Bowditch has introduced an improved method of correcting the apparent dis- tance of the moon from the sun or a star, which was suggested by that great man : whom he justly characterizes as " eminently distinguished for his mathematical acquirements." It should have been before stated, that after quit- ting the life of a navigator. Dr. Bowditch held the olFice of president of a marine insurance company in his native town for several years ; until, upon the establishment of that well-known and invaluable in- stitution, the Massachusetts Hospital Life Insurance ('ompany, in Boston, his talents were deemed indis- pensable in its organization and management; and be was invited to take charge of it, under the title of its Actuary. The great exactness of calculatiim and the order and precision introduced by him into that institution, will long attest the comprehensive- ness of his views and his facility in the practical management of its affairs. On the occasion of leaving his native town to enter upon this new ofl'ice, his townsmen sponta- neously united in a publick dinner, as a testimonial of their respect and grateful recollection of his em- inent services to his country and of his great private worth. While he resided in Salem he undertook his well known translation of La Place's Mecani/pte Celeste, accompanied with hi.s invaluable commentary upon it. This truly gigantick task was begun in the year 1815, and has been the steady occupation of his leisure hours to the time of his death. His elucida- tions and commentaries, while they show him to have been as thoroughly master of that mighty sub- ject as La Place himself, will make that great work — the most profound of modern times — accessible to innumerable students, who without such aid would be compelled to forego the use of it. The labour of translating and commenting on the whole of that work had defied the zeal and industry of the scientifick men of Great Britain ; and one of their leading journals gives due credit to America for this extraordinary and honourable achievement in the cause of science, which had not been accom- plished by any individual among the numerous sci- entifick associations of Great Britain. " The idea," says the journal alluded to, " of nn dertaking a translation of the whole Mccanique Ce teste, accompanied throughout with a copious running cimimentary, is one which savours, at first sight, ot the gigantesqxie ; and is certainly one which, from what we have hitherto had reason to conceive of the popularity and diffusion of mathematical knowl- edge on the opposite shores of the Atlantick, we should never have expected to have found origina- ted — or, at least, carried into execution, in that quar- ter. The part actually completed (the first volume) is, with few and slight exceptions, just what we could have wished to see — an exact and careful translation into very good English — exceedingly well printed, and accompanied with notes appended to each page ; which leave no step in the text, of moment unsupplied, and hardly any material difficul- ty either of conception or reasoning unelucidated." The progress of Dr. Bowditch's last illness was so unremitting, that he was not able to complete the final revision of the whole of this great work. He had, however, corrected the last sheets of the fourth volume a few days before his death, and while his physical powers were scarcely capable of executing what his clear and unclouded intellect dictated. The fifth, and only remaining volume is, comparatively, of little importance, and it would probably have had but slight revisions, even if he had survived. On this great work, Dr. Bowditch's fame through- out the scientifick world will ultimately rest. And surely, the most lofty ambition could not desire a more solid and lasting monument — a monument, which will endure until that day of desolation shall 129 arrive, when no one of ihe human family shall re- main to contemplate the mighty fabrick of those heavenly systems, whose strueture and laws are in- scribed upon it. The lung study of the French mathemitticians, in connexion with IJr. Bowditch's labours on La Place's work, had given him a partiality for the French, or Continental mathematical school, so far as that may be said to difier from the English. And on one great question, which in the age of Newton raised such a furious tempest of altercation between the English and Continental mathematicians — the quarrel be- tween Newton and Leibnitz for the immortal inven- tion of the differential calculus — Dr. Bowditch did not consider Newton as the exclusive discoverer, but, as the more candid of all parties now generally agree, that he and Leibnitz were both original dis- coverers of that wonderful method of analysis, and that neither of ihem was a plagiarist from the other, as each had been illiberally called while the contro- versy was raging. The reputation of Dr. Bowditch was such, that he had for many years been a member of various learned societies in Europe and America; and he was one of the few Americans who have been Fel- lows of the Royal Society of London. In his na- tive state he has for some years been the President of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, which is indebted to him for a large share of the reputation it has enjoyed. Such is a brief outline of the intellectual charac- ter and scientifick labours of this eminent man. It need only be added, that in social life he was dis- tinguished for rigid integrity, extraordinary energy of character, and unremitting zeal and perseverance in whatever he undertook to accomplish ; his man- ner was ardent and indicative of that warm heart which has now ceased to throb for those friends who enjoyed the happiness of his society ; his deport- ment was, in an extraordinary degree, unaffected and simple ; and he had a frankness in expressing his opinions, which an age of artificial civility would feel to be a standing reproof of its own heartless- ness, and would hardly consent to rank among the virtues. How saddening is the reflection, that these high intellectual and moral endowments, from which we had fondly, perhaps unreasonably, hoped for still further benefits to the world, should now lie power- less, prostrate, and in ruins before us! Never has there been an individual in our country, solely de- voted to the pursuits of science, and the tranquil walks of private life, and shunning the allurements of that political notoriety which is the distempered and all-absorbing passion of the day, whose death has been more generally and deeply lamented — Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit— We read his history in a nation's eyes : and the demonstrations of sorrow in every face are at once a spontaneous homage to science, and a heartfelt tribute to eminent private worth. 17 THE SYBIL'S CAVE-HOBOKEN. The above engraving represents one of the curi- osities of the far-famed Hoboken, opposite the city of New York, denominated the " Svbil's Cave." It is an excavation into the solid rock of about thirty feet. The front is fashioned in the Gothick style, as will be seen by reference to the engraving. A short distance inside the cave, is a spring of water slightly impregnated with magnesia. Two years ago, Hoboken was one of the most romantick places in the country. Situated on the banks, and overlooking the mighty Hudson, the bay and harbour, and city of New York, and laid out in beautiful and shaded walks, varied bv nature and by art — it had become the favourite resort both of the citizens and visiters to the " commercial emporium." It still retains some of its beauties and ornaments, but the hand of the spoiler has been there. One thousand dirt-carts are employed, in destroying its verdant lawns — turning them into " city lots." And its quiet and romantick retreats are soon to give way to the sound of the hammer and the axe. It may be that these improvements are much need- ed, and that the island of Manhattan, is not largo enough for all the stores that may be wanted, but we could have wished the speculators had chosen soine other place than Hoboken, for these improve- 7nents, 130 CAPITOL OF INDIANA This edifice is situated in an open square in the city of Indianapolis, the capital of Indiana. It is of the robust, or ancient Uorieiv order, octaslyle, of the aniphi-jjrostyie, pseudo-peripteral species, and ad- mitting, from its insulated position, of a peribolus, or platform around it, may be considered the nearest approach to the classical spirit of the antique yel instancKil in the Western hemisphere, while the nov- el introduction of antae upon its flank, boldly pro- jecting from the wall, serve to conceal, in a fore- shortened view, the many windows, which would, without such projections, give the building the char- acter of a factory, as also an appearance, and the reality of instahility, in the highest degree inharmo- nious with the surrounding parts, when introduced in a wall crowned by so ponderous an entablalun^ As a mailer of taste, the propriety of adding a dome or cupola to an edifice of so simple a character i as the Grecian temple, is with some reason doubted, j This addiiimi might l)e allowed lo interfere with the sober dignity whicli should reign in a sacred edifice, yet, in the church of the French Protestants, N. Y., no one can wish the dome omitted ; and, in the cap- itol of Indiana, this appendage gives the impress of a character suiting its destination, and receding from the front, the pediment retains its full value, while to the distant observer, the dome and lanthorn, rising proudly aliove surrounding objects enhances the richness of the scene, while the more simple form is perhaps shrouded by intervening objects. The building is eighty feet wide, and one hundred and eighty feet long, and contains rooms on three floors : a basement below the level of the portico and peribolus, and two stories above. The great halls of leuislation, chambers of the Senate and Representatives, are on the upper floor, which ren- ders them lofiy in the ceilings, and the committee rooms, which are on the first floor, more accessible by the free passage from end lo end of the building, which pass.ige could not be admitted were the great rooms below. The Senate chamber is thirty-six feet by seventy feet, and the hall of Kepresentatives, forty-eight by seventy, or near these dimensions, and the Rotunda, thirty-six feet, with dome and sky- light. The halls are rectangular oblongs on the plan, but have a semi-hemispherical concavity, or half dome in the ceiling, resting on a semicircidar colonnade, which forms the " bar of the house" (so I termed.) within which the memliers' seats are placed, all facing inward, fronting the focal point, and speak- er's chair. This general arrangement, (according to the laws of Phonics,) is favourable to the extension and inflection of sound, which, here made sonorous, is yet found free from reverberation, distinct and clear. It also aflbrds variety, with an architectural character to the apartment, while the columns con- tribute an additional support to the roof. As an exhibition of classical architecture, we have in the capitol of Indiana, each of the three or- ders appropriated by Greece : the Dorick, lonick, and Corinthian : — the robust, chaste, and m.ignificent. In the body of the edifice, we have a resemblance to the Parthenon of Athens ; in the interiour, the rich lonick of the Erectheion ; in the dome, the cir- cular temple of Vesta, at Tivoli ; and the lanthorn is a model of the Corinthian monument of Lysicratos. I Nothing tends more to refine the taste, and to divest it of all taint of vulgarity than early familiar- izing boih the eye and the mind with those exquis- ite forms of beauty traiisruitted to us in the remains of ancient art ; and nothing is better calculated to elevate our ideas, than frequent contemplation of structures distinguished either by the si:blimitv of their dinieiisions or the harmony of their proportions. 'i'he buildings of the ancients are in architecture, what the works of nature are with respect to the otlipr arts ; they serve as models which we should imitate, and as standards by which we ought to judge : and suflicient field is open to the man of genius for original design, and the display of science and taste ini\\f. ]\\(\\i:\o\K nrranoremeiil and application of ancient members, and in the C(nnposition of inte- tiwing in their veins, and beating responsive to republican feidings ; and the field of New Orleans is now added to those of liniiker's Hill, Stillwater, and Chippeway, as trophies of .American valour and patriotism. After the signing of this eventful treaty, the three ministers arose, says one of ihein, the Ciniiit Mar- bois, when Mr. Livingston, expressing the general satisfaction, said, with prophetic sagacity, " VVehave lived long, but this is the noblest work of our whole lives. The treaty which we have just signed has not been obtained by art, or dictated by force ; equally advantageous to the two contracting parties, it will cliange vast solitudes into flourishing dis- tricts. From this day, the United States take their place among the powers of the first rank ; the En- glish lose all exclusive influence in the afl'airs of America. Thtis one of the principal causes of Eu- ropean rivalries and animosities is about to cease. The United States will re-establish the maritime rights of all the world, which are now usurped by a single nation. These treaties will thus be a guaran- tee of peace and concord among commercial states. The instruments which we have just signed, will cause no tears to be shed ; they prepare ages of happiness for innumerable generations of human creatures. The Mississippi and Missouri will see them succeed one another, and multiply, truly wor- thy of the regard of Providence, in the bosom of equality, under just laws, freed from the errours of superstition and the scourges of bad government.' The consequences of this act did not escape the penetration of the First Consul. " This accession of territory," said he, " strengthens for ever the pow- er of the United States, and 1 have just given to En- gland a maritime rival that will sooner or later hum- ble her pride." The official duties of Resident Minister at Paris, did not prevent Chancellor Livingston from bestow- ing his attention to those objects of taste congenial to his feelings, and beneficial to his country. To the American Academy of Fine Arts, established in New York, in 1801, he added the excellent collec- tion of busts and statues which are now the boast of that institution, and was instrumental in procuring, from the liberality of the First Consul, its rich paint- ings and prints. He continued through life devoted to its interests, and was for many years its chief officer. To the transactions of the Society for the Promotion of Usefid Arts, established in 1793, chiefly through his exertions, he contributed many appropriate papers, and during his residence abroad, enriched our agriculture with the improvements of French husbandry. The last effort of his pen was his Paper on Agri- culture, written but a few days before his fatal illness. In this spirited essay, he vindicates the climate, soil, and capabilities, of his native country. He shows the value of horticultural labour, and demonstrates the reciprocal connexions between agriculture and manufactures. The inherent fertility and the indi- genous resource of the country, are the themes of his admiration and eulogy. He was among the ear- liest, with .ludge Peters, to employ gypsum, as the means of fertilizing soils ; and the introduction of clover, and a better breed of domestick cattle, attest his vigilant and enlightened zeal. One other benefit conferred on mankind will, of itself, convey the name of Chancellor Livingston to the remotest posterity ; his co-o])eration with Robert Fulton in effecting the successful application of steam to navigation, the most important im|)rovement since the invention of printing, and only inferiour in lasting consequences to mankind. By it the great community of nations is bound together by commer- cial and social intercourse ; the arts of war are made to yield to the profitable pursuits of peace ; univer- sal civilization, universal education, and the benign influence of religion conveyed to every land. " The connexion between Livingston and Fulton," says the lamented Clinton, " realized to a great de- gree, the vision of the poet. .All former experiments had failed, and the genius of I'ulton, aided and fos- tered by the publick spirit and discernment of Liv- ingston, created one of the greatest accommodations for the benefit of mankind. These illustrious men will be considerod, through all time, as the benefac- tors of the world." The leisure hours of Chancellor Livingston were devoted to every variety of science, arts, and litera- ture. The heroick authors of antiquity. Homer and Virgil, Demosthenes and Cicero, were among those which contributed to improve his taste, and expand his thought and feeling. His historical researches were various and extensive. All this was not effect- ed without unremitting industry. Every interval of time afforded from the duties and cares of publick life, was devoted, with scrupulous fidelity, to add to his stores of knowledge. Like the Chancellor 137 D'Aguesseau, in variety of pursuit, he found that relaxation which others seek in pleasure and amuse- ment. The style of his oratory was chaste and classical, and of that persuasive kind which the father of poetry ascribes to Nestor. All who were witnesses. testify to the mute attention with which he riveted his auditors. But he chiefly delighted in the pa- ihetick, and often, by his appeals to the sympathies of his hearers, counteracted the most powerful preju- dices. His acknowledged integrity and patriotism doubtless added force to all he uttered. Franklin termed him the American Cicero : in him were uni- ted all those qualities which according to that illus- trious Roman, are necessary in the perfect orator. After a life, every portion of which was devoted to the benefit of his fellow-man, he paid the last debt to nature, at his seat, at Clermont, on the twenty- sixth of February, 1813. Thus it appears, from this imperfect tribute, that the late Chancellor Livingston was an active agent in the most momentous events that have influenced the destinies of mankind. Of the congress of 1776, which resolved that these states were free and in- dependent, he was a distinguished member, and be- longed to that committee which framed the declara- tion of our grievances and rights — and which will transmit their names to the latest posterity : of the convention of New York which formed the constitu- tion of our state — the best-devised scheme of polity known to the world ; of a subsequent convention, wliich ralitied the constitution of the United States, devised by the wisdom of Hamilton and Madison. The important actor in a negociation, which doubled our couniry in extent, and, I trust, has rendered it for ever secure from foreign intrusion ; the coadjutor in that noblest of all improvements in mechanicks, by which time and space are annihilated — the inven- tion of steam navigation. In Mr. Livingston, to the proud character of in- tegrity, honour, and disinterestedness, were added the mild, yet ennobling features of religion. An in- quiring believer in its truth, an exemplar of its gentle efiects on the character, he daily sought its consola- tions, and strengthened his pious resolutions in the rich inheritance it promises. He was devoted to the Protestant Episcopal church, from an enlightened preference of its doctrines and discipline, without hostile feelings to those who trust to other guides in religion than Chillingworth and Hooker. Chancellor Livingston, at the lime of his death, was in the 66th year of his age. His person was tall and commanding, and of patrician dignity. Gen- tle and courteous in his manners, pure and upright in his morals. His benefactions to the poor were numerous and unostentatious. In his life without reproach, victorious in death over its terrours. Wh-it is truth ? — It must be plain that what is true in one country is not true in another. Monsieur Souchard, a late French teacher in New York, used to tell his pupils that unless they cultivated their minds, they were not so good as a swine — for the flesh of the latter was good to eat ; while their bodies were worthless after death. An inhabitant of Pata- gonia would have denied the soundness of this co- rollary. 18 AMERICAN BIOGRAPHY. SAMUEL PROVOOST, D. D. From Knapp's Amencan Biography. Samuel Provoost, D. D., a Bishop of the Prot- estant Episcopal Church of the United States, was descended from a family originally French, whose ancestors may be traced back as far as the year 1550. The orthography of the name with the dou- ble O seems of comparatively modern date. The first of the family, of whom a particular trace can be found, was a William Provost, who resided in Paris at the time of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The family were Huguenots. A part of them fled to Geneva, where their descendants are yet to be found in respectable stations. William escaped to Amster- dam, where he married a French lady, also a fugitive from Paris. Of this marriage there were five sons; the eldest was Johannes, who married a Dutch lady, and had by her three sons : the younger of whom came to this country, then the New Netherlands, in 1624. He soon after returned to Amsterdam, and there married a lady by the name of Tarn Waart. In 1634, this David Provoost with his wife, came back to New York, (then New Amsterdam,) and soon after was commissioned by the Dutch governour to com- mand a military expedition against the English, who had made encroachments at Fresh river, (the Con- necticut, )on what their high mightinesses claimed as their territory. He was successful in driving a-.vay the intruders, and built a fort at what is now called Saybrook, to which place he removed b's family, and continued to command and reside in the fort a number of years. There was another brother Elias, who also came to this country and settled at Albany, then Fort Orange. From this Elias Provoost, sprang the Provoosts of that quarter. David Provoost had a number of children, and died in 1657. His third son, David, was born at Saybrook, in 1642, and in 1668, married Catharine Lawrence, who was born in Holland, in 1650. They had a number of chil- dren — the fourth son, Samuel was born in New York, in 1687. He married Maria Bousfield, daugh- ter of Thomas Bousfield, of Cork, Ireland. Her brother Benjamin Bousfield, was sometime sheriff" of Cork, and distinguished himself as an earnest political writer. Samuel Provoost had many chil- dren. His son John was born in New York, in 1713, and became so wealthy as to be able to give his son Samuel, afterward the bishop, a collegiate education in England. John Provoost married Eve Rutgers, by whom he had several children, the eldest of whom the above- mentioned Samuel, was born in the city of New York, on the twenty-sixth of February, 1743. It is men- tioned that this child was christened in the Dutch church. It seems that the family, from the begin- ning, belonged to that sect. When Mr. Provoost joined the Episcopalians, does not appear. It is probable that his education in an English University had its influence in this respect. It would appear that upon his receiving the rudiments of ordinary classical instruction, he first entered King's (now Columbia) college, at a very early age. and that he there made great proficiency and graduated A. B. He repaired to Europe previously to his arriving at 138 his nineteenth year. When he was admitted to deacon's orders, he was styled S. P. A. B. of St. Peter's college, Cambrid[;e. In 1761, he lel't New York, arrived at Falnioiilh in September, and in No- vember, hr entered fellow coiiinmner of St. Peter's College, England. It is reporled that while he par- look of the gayely which was then the fashion of the English iMiiveisilies, he prosecuted his studies with great assiduity. His fatlier allowed him a private tutor who was the celebrated Dr. John Jebb, a man of distinguished talents, with whom Mr. Provoost formed an ardent friendship, and was in correspond- ence so long as Dr. Jebb lived. Soon after the commencement of his studies at Cambridge he seems to have decided on the church as his profession, and it is evident from the letters between him and his father that this was his own unbiased choice. Mr. Provoost acquired a knowledge not oidy of the Latin, Greek and Hebrew languages, but he made himself master of the French ami Italian. In a letter to his father dated the thirteenth of April, 1765, he says, " I can get my degree and connnendamus here when- ever I please : nothing but my being too young in orders could prevent my returning home next sum- mer." On the twenty-third of February, 1766, Samuel Provoost, A. B., of St. Peter's College in Cambridge, was admitted into the order of deacon at the Chapel Royal of St. James Place, Westminster, by the bishop of London, and on the twenty-tifih of March following, to priest's orders, at the King's Chapel, in White Hall, by Dr. Edmond Keen, bishop of Ches- ter. Benjamin Boiisfield was a fellow student of Mr. Provoost. at the University at Cambridge. They were intimnte friends. Mr. Bousfield was the only son of Thomas Bousfield, a man of large estate, and then the only banker of the city of Cork, Ireland. The son was afterward a conspicuous character in the Irish House of Commons, and sheriff of the county of Cork, during the great political contentions of that country. He was so far a literary man, that he ventured to enter the field with the great Edmund Burke, and wrote a pamphlet in answer to Mr. Burke's celebrated book on the French revolution. At about the period last mentioned the widowed mother of Mr. Bousfield and her daughter Maria, paid a visit to Cambridge. The acquaintance be- tween Mr. Provoost, and the sister of his friend, soon ripened into a inuiual attachment, and on the eighth of June, 1766, they were inarried in St. Mary's Church, Cambridge, by one of the senior fellows of Trinity College. Perhaps Mr. Provoost was induced to take this step the sooner, by the prospect which was then held out to him of an immediate and elegible settlement in his own country. The Episcopalians were then building a new church, (probably St. Paul's,) and he was informed by his correspondents that there was an intention lo offer him the pastoral charge of it. Soon after his marriage he returned to New York, with his bride, and in December, 1766, he accepted a call to be one of the assistant ininisters of Trinity church, for a salary of two hundred and fifty pounds a year. In 1768, he was prevailed on by his wife, to pay a visit with her to her relations in Ireland. He seems to have had the permission of the vestry, to absent himself for this purpose, under an understand ing, on his part, at least, that when he returned he should resume his station in the church, cm the same terms as when he went lo Ireland. But the vestrv appear to have thought themselves at liberty lo inakr his continuance in his ofiice depend on conditions which they thought proper to propose. Soon after his return, it was proposed in the ves- try, (October the twenty-sixth, 1769,) to dismiss Mr. Provoost, on account of the insufficiency ulibe corporate funds to support him. This proposiliou was not adopted. But on the sixth of the next month it was resolved that he should be continued as an assistant minister, if he would be content, instead of a salary, to receive such compensation as could be raised by subscription. While this matter was pending, Mr. Provoost re- monstrated against what he considered as the bad faith of the attempt to place him on any olher footing in the church than that on which he stood when he left it, with the consent of the vestry, to make ht> visit to Ireland. How he treated the offer of ilu; vestry, that he should be supported by subscri|i- tion, does not appear. It is very certain, however, that it was not accepted, and that about this time his connection with Trinity church was dissidved. But it is probable that the insufficiency of funds was not so much the cause of the proceedings of the vestry, as a discontent with Mr. Provoost. For it is evident that some part of his congregation were dis- satisfied with him. He was not sufficiently high church to please them — of this he was not uncon- scious. In a letter written soon after his return from Ireland, to his Cambridge tutor. Dr. Jebb, he says, " I am now returned to my native country — we have a fine son and daughter, and I should think my situ- ation perfectly agreeable if it were not for the biijolry and enthusiasm that generally prevails among people here of all denominations. Even the church— .par ticularly the lower membersof it, are not free friJin the general iiifeclion. As I found this to be the case, I made it a point to preach the plain doctrines of morality in the manner I found them enforced by ilu- most eminent divines of the church of England. This brought an accusation against me by these peo- ple that I was endeavouring to sap the fouiulatiipn of Christianity, which they imagined to consist in the doctrines of absolute predestination and reprobation — placing such an unbounded confidence in the mer- its of Christ, as to think their own endeavcnirs quite unnecessary, and not in the least available to salva- tion, and consigning to everlasting destruction all who happen lo differ from them in the most trivial matters. 1 was however happy enough to be sup- ported by many of the principal people of New York." There were many too of the disciples of the schoni of election and eternal damnation, who called upon him by anonymous letters to preach their doctrine, and reprobated his sermons because they were too moral. No doubt these saints would have been bel- ter pleased if he had preached what neither ho or they could understand. Another complaint against him was, that he was too restrained in his visits to the members of his church — not that he was not generous to the poor, and kind to the sick — or that he did not discharge all the duties of a Christian pastor ; but he would not, indeed he could not, court popularity. 139 It is extremely probable also thai the discontent of the vestrv and the congregation with Mr. Provoost grew out 1)1' the piilitical questions which then ajji- taleJ the country and bred discord in every sociely. Though the church and state were not united in the colony of New Yurk exactly as it was, and is, in England, yet the church was very dependant on the king and his government, and it cannot be denied that the Ejiiscopalians of the city of New York very generally took part with the mother country. It is believed that the members of the vestry who passed the resolution which obliged Mr. Provoost to leave the church, with the exception of two or three, were tories — Mr. Provoost was entirely on the side of those who were opposed to the British Government, and took no pains to conceal his sentiments. He avows them very explicit!)', in the abovementioiied letter to Dr. Jebb. Soon after he left Trinity church he determined to seek in ihe country that quiet which the perturbed stale of the city did not perjnit. He purchased a small farm at East Camp, which was then in Dutch- ess county. In the selection of this spot, he was no doubt, in some measure, inlluenced by its being in the neighbourhood of the Livingston families. Mr. Walter and Robert Cambridge Livingston had been fellow students with him at the English Universily. In the earlier part of 1770, or beginning of 1771, Mr. Provoost removed with his family to East Camp. From this time till the close of the revolutionary war, Mr. Provoost seems to have lived in perfect retirement, occupying himself with literary pursuits, for which he had a great taste. His poliiical senti- ments however, were so well known and his char- acter and abilities were so much respected that his name was put by the leading politicians of the day, Ht the head of a list of persons who were to be del- egates to the provincial congress. But he declined accepting this office. When the convention which formed the first con- stitution of the state of New York met at Kingston, in 1777, they elected Mr. Provoost their chaplain, but he refused to accept the appointment and gave the following reasons to one of his friends for doing so : " In the beginning of the present war, when each province was endeavouring to unite the more efTectually to oppose the tyrarmy of the British court, I remarked with great concern that all the church clergy in these northern states, who received salaries from the society, or emoluments from England, were unanimous in opposing the salutary measures of a vast majority of their countrymen — so great a har- mony among people in their particular circumstances pretty clearly convinced me that some at least, were biased by interested motives. As I entertained po- litical opinions diametrically opposed to those of my brethren, I was apprehensive that a profession of these opinions might be imputed to mercenary vievvs, and an ungenerous desire of rising on their ruin. To obviate any suspicions of this kind, I formed a reso- lution never to accept of any preferment during the present contest ; though as a private person, I have been, and shall always be ready to encounter any danger that may be incurred in the defence of our invaluable rights and liberties." Governed by this determination he refused an offer which was made in 1777, to be Rector of St. Mi- chael's church in Charlestpn, S. C, with a very handsome salary, and anotnercall which he received in 1782, to take the pastoral charge of a church called the King's Chapel, in Boston. In his answer to these calls he reiterated as reasons for his not ac- cepting them, the same which he had given when he declined the offer of the chaplaincy, to the con- vention. The merit of Mr. Provoost's adherence to this resolution will be the more appreciated when his circumstances at the time, are considered. The sit- uation in which he was placed, by the revolution, he describes thus: "I have no salary, or income, of any kind ; the estate which formerly supported me, having been in the hands of the enemy ever since they took possession of New York. The place in which I live is so far from maintaining my family, that I am now in debt for the greatest part of the wheat they have consumed since the beginning of the war. Besides selling part of my furniture, &c., and running in debt for various necessaries, I have from time to time, borrowed money of my friends to considerable amount. My mother and family are refugees from the city, and nearly in the same sit- uation with myself — and I am jirevented by the con- stitution of the state and the canons of the church, from entering into any sccidar em|iloyment." A curious anecdote of Bishop Provoost, belongs to this period. When the British fleet ascended the Hudson river, at the lime that they burnt Esopus, after they had set fire to Judge Livingston's house, which was but a little way below Mr. Provoost's farm, a detachment of soldiers from the fleet was ob- served approaching the shore not far from Mr. Pro- voost's dwelling. Mr. Provoost and a number of his neighbours armed themselves, with a ho|)e that they might defend their property. The soldiers were seen to land, and leave their boat in charge of a guard of two or three men. It was immediately proposed by the armed citizens to surprise the guard and destroy the boat, which would insure, with the force that could be raised in the country, ihe capture of the whole detachment. With this design, Mr. Provoost and his party crept along the river, concealed by the rocks and bushes, till they had got so near ihe'boat as to be on the point of executing their design; when to their great disappointment, the soldiers, who had left the shore, met with something which hastened their return, and the reverend gentleman and his as- sociates, were glad to keep themselves hid, not with- out fears that they would be discovered. If this had happened they certainly would have been the cap- tured, instead of the captors — and very probably, he would not have been very easily exchanged — as the British officers might have chosen to exhibit in EnrM»— v_— « ?='^^^» Statue of William Penn. Upon the accession of Queen Anne, he was in great favour with her, and often at court : and for his con- venience took lodgings, first at Kensington, afterward at Knightsbridge, where he resided till 1706 ; and then removed with his family to a convenient house, about a mile from Brentford. In 1707, he was in- volved in a law-suit with the executors of a person who had formerly been his steward; but his cause, though many thought him aggrieved, was attended wiili such circumstances, that the court of chancery did not think proper to relieve him ; upon which ac- count he was obliged to live in the Old Bailey, within the rules of the Fleet, till the matter in dispute was accommodated. Then it seems to have been, that he mortgaged the province of Pennsylvania for 6,600i. In 1701, the air of London not agreeing with his declining constitution, he took a seat at Rush- comb near Twyl'ord in Buckinghamshire, where he spent the remainder of his life. In 1712, he was seized at distant times with three several fits, sup- posed to be apoplectick ; by the last of which his uu- 147 derstanding and memory were so impaired, as to render him incapable of publick action for the future. He did not die, however, till July 30, 1718, in his seventy-fourth year, when he was buried at Jordan's in Buckinghamshire, where his former wife, and several of his family, lay. He wrote a vast number of things. Dr. Henry More has said, that our author, in his piece, entitled, " No Cross no Crown," has treated the subject of a future life, and the immortality of the soul, with a force and spirit equal to most writers : and, in a letter to Mr. Penn, concerning baptism and the Lord's Sup- per, and some usages of the Quakers, he remarks, that " he had perused some of Mr. Penn's writings, and met with excellent passages in them, that are very expressive of a vigorous resentment and expe- rience of what appertains to life and holiness." All his works were collected together, and printed in 1726, in two volumes, folio, with an account of his life prefixed. One of the hardest adversaries he had was George Keith, once of his persuasion ; who pub- lished " The Deism of William Penn and his breth- ren, destructive to the Christian religion, exposed and plainly laid open, 1699," 8vo. The statue of William Penn, stands in front of the buildings for publick charitable purposes, which oc- cupy one entire square in the city of Philadelphia. It was presented to the hospital in 1801, by John Penn, of London. It is a colossal statue, bronzed, on a marble pedestal, representing Penn holding a scroll, which is the charter of privileges. AMERICAN ANTIQUITIES. Near the cove at the mouth of West river, in Vt. are what are termed the " Marked Rocks." They are so called from being covered with curious and antique hieroglyphicks. In this vicinity, two hu- man skeletons were lately found by Mr. Hollan Pet- tes, while he was ploughing. One was considera- bly decayed, and the other in a remarkable state of preservation. — The latter is now in the possession of Dr. Gilbert, of Brattleboro'. The beautiful val- ley of Connecticut was a favourite haunt of the In- dians — the rich meadows yielding a crop of corn with little labour, and the river and its tributaries, and the woods which skirted them, furnishing him with plenty of fish and game, and many Indian im- plements have been found in that neighborhood, par- ticularly upon what is called the " Dummer farm." It was there that the first settlement was made in Vermont, and near there still stands Fort Dummer, one of the most interesting relicks of Indian days, now extant in that region. From this fort Mrs. How was carried captive by the savages, to Canada. The story is familiar to most readers, and especially to all those who received the rudiments of their edu- cation while the old " American Preceptor" was the principal reading book in the New England schools, in which the account is given at length. A worthy descendant and namesake of the heroine of the story occupies the fort as a dwelling. The fort is fast decaying, and all the interesting and venerable relicks of days of yore will soon fall away and the only memento of the hardships and suffer- ings which our forefathers endured will be the page of history. But this can never so vividly realize to our minds the thrilling scenes of Indian days through which they passed, as to look on the very buildings in which they defended themselves from the attacks, and to see the very prints of the tomahawks of the savage foe. We therefore hope that measures may be taken to preserve this old fort from ruin, that we may still point to it as a relick of the first settlement. AH that relates to the first settlement of the coun- try is interesting, and still more so the facts connect- ed with the history of the aborigines before the dis- covery, a race that inhabited this land, hundreds and thousands of years ago. It is stated that an old burying ground has been found in White county Tennessee, near the town of Sparta, in which nu- merous skeletons are found from seven to nine feet long, deposited in coffins of stone. These coffins too, are covered with various hieroglyphicks and inscriptions, which the learned have not yet been able to translate. They are generally very imper- fect, and the lines can scarcely be decyphered. In the same neighbourhood are said to be found also three burying grounds, containing skeletons buried in the same manner, only nineteen inches long. One of them had ninety-four pearl beads around the neck. The graves are about two feet deep. Of these last, Jefferson speaks, in his " Notes on Virginia," which state, at the time he wrote, enclosed in its bounda- ries all the territory of what is now Tennessee. Mr. Jefferson does not however, say " stone coffins," but that the graves themselves were enclosed with slabs of stone, two at the sides, about twenty-four inches in length ; two at each end about one foot long, and one at the bottom and top. The skeletons are found about two feet below the surface of the ground and their remarkable preservation is attributed to the saline qualities of the earth in which they are deposited, being near the salt works of that state. THE NOBLE SAILOR.— Mrs. SisotmrEv. [The occurrence here related look place during the great conflafration in New York, December, 16th 1835.) It was a fearful night, The strong flame fiercely sped, From street to street, from spire to spire, And on their treasures fed ; Hark ! 'tis a mother's cry. High o'er the tumult wild, As rushing toward her flame-wrapt home, She shnek'd— " My child I my child!" A wanderer from the sea, A stranger mark'd her wo. And in his generous bosom woke The sympathetick glow. Swift up the burning stairs With darting feet he flew, While sable clouds of stifling smoke Concealed him from the view. Fast fell the blazing beams Across his dangerous road. Till the far chamber where he grop'd Like fiery oven glow'd. But what a pealing shout ! When from the wreck he came And in his arms a smiling babe, Still toying with the flame. The mother's raptur'd tears Forth like a torrent sped Yet ere the throng could learn his name, That noble tar had fled. Not for the praise of man Did he this deed of love. But on a bright, unfading page, 'Tis register'd above. 148 WM. TENN'S TREATY WITH THE INDIANS. The cut opposite represents one of the most remarkable and interesting events in the life of William Penn, and in the history of the world. It is a copy of tlie late Benjamin West's picture of the meetiiic: of l-'enn and the Indian chiefs, for the ratilication of the sale of the territory of Pennsylvania, by the latter to the former, and the conclusion of a treaty of peace and amity be- tween the two parties. Penn had received the property of the vast tract of land constituting the present state of Pennsylvania, by patent from Charles II., in March, 1681 ; but he did not deem the royal grant to he sufficient authority for his taking possession of the country, until he had obtained the consent of tiiose by whom it was actually inhabited. Ac- cordingly, very soon after his patent had been signed, he deputed coinmissioners to proceed to America, and to enter into a negotiation with the Indians for the fair purchase of so much of the territory as they claimed a right to. The desired arrangement was made with little diffi- culty ; and the following year, Penn having him- self come over to view his acquisition, it was re- solved that the compact which had been made should be solemnly conlirmed. The principles and regulations which Penn had laid down from the first, for the treatment of the native inhabitants, and the management of the intercourse between them and the European col- onists, were characterized by a spirit of liberality e.xceedingly remarkable for that age. It was made part of the conditions on which grants of land were made to adventurers, that all mercan- tile transactions with the Indians should take place in the public market ; that any wrong done to an Indian should be punished in the same manner as if a white man had been the person injured ; and that all diflerences between plant- ers and Indians should be settled by the verdict of twelve men, six of the one class and six of the other. And in a letter addressed to the Indians themselves, after mentioning the existence of a great God, or Power, the Creator of the world, who hath commanded us all to love, to help, and 10 do good to one another, he continued; — "I would have you well observe that I am very sen- sible of the unkindness and injustice which have been too much exercised toward you by the peo- ple of these parts of the world, who have sought themselves to make great advantages by you, ratiier than to be examples of goodness and jjatience unto you. This, 1 hear, hath been a matter of trouble to you, and caused great grudging and animosities, sometimes to the shedding of blood, which hath made the great God angry. But I am not such a man, as is well known in my own country. 1 have great love and regard toward you, and desire to win and gain your love and friendship by a kind, just, and peiiceable life ; and the people I send are of the same inind, and shall in all things behave them- selves accordingly ; and if, in anything, any shall offend you or your people, you shall have a full and speedy satisfaction for the same, by an equal number of just men on both sides, that by no means you may have just occasion of be- ing offended against them." By the Europeans who first landed on the new continent, and by almost all who had followed them till then, the unhappy natives had been treated as if they had possessed no more rights of any kind, than the lower animals that occupied the wilderness along with them. Penn was the first who really recognised them as belonging to the family of man. It had been agreed that the meeting for the rati- fication of the compact should take place at Coaquannoe, the name given by the Indians to the spot on which Philadelphia now stands. The parties, however, after assembling, proceeded a little higher up the Delaware, to a place then called Shackamaxen, on which the adjoining village of Kensington has been since built, and where there grew an immense elm, under the spreading branches of which the leaders on both sides took their station. Mr. Clarkson, in his "Life of Penn," (2 vols. 8vo., Lon. 1813,) ex- presses his regret that in no historian has he been able to find any detailed account of the circum- stances of this meeting, though the event itself is so famous. He gives, however, some interest- ing particulars, principally derived from the tra- ditions preserved in Quaker families, descended from those who were present on the occasion. " William Penn," he says, " appeared in his usual clothes. He had no crown, sceptre, mace, sword, halbert, or any insignia of eminence. He was distinguished only by wearing a sky-blue sash around his waist, which was made of silk net- work, and which was of no larger apparent dimensions than an officer's military sash, and much like it except in color. On his right hand w-as Colonel Markham, his relation and secretary, and on his left his friend Pearson; after whom followed a train of Quakers. Before him were carried various articles of merchandise, which, when they came near the sachems, (or kings,) were spread upon the ground. He held a roll of parchment, containing the confirmation of the treaty of purchase and amity, in his hand. One of the sachems, who was the chief of them, then put upon his head a kind of chaplet, in which ap- peared a small horn. This, as among the primi- tive eastern nations, and according to Scripture language, was an emblem of kingly power ; and whenever the chief, who had a right to wear it, put it on, it was understood that the place was made sacred, and the persons of all present invi- olable. Upon putting on this horn, the Indians threw down their bows and arrows, and sealed themselves round their chiefs, in the form of a half-moon, upon the ground. The chief sachem then announced to William Penn, by means of an interpreter, that the nations were ready to hear him." Penn's speech appears to have embraced near- ly the same topics as his letter already quoted. After its delivery he unrolled the parchment, and, by means of the interpreter, explained it article by article. The compact was based upon the principle that the land was to be common to the Indians and to the English ; and that the natives were to have the same liberty to do what was 151 necessary for the improvement of their grounds, and the providing of sustenance for their families which the settlers had. " He then," says Mr. Clarkson, " paid them for the land, and made them many presents besides, from the merchan- dise which had been spread before them. Having done this, he laid the roll of parchment on the ground, observing again, that the ground should be common to both people. He then added, that he would not do as the Marylanders did, that is, call them children or brothers only; for often parents were apt to whip their children too se- verely, and brothers sometimes would differ ; — neither would he compare the friendship between him and them to a chain, for the rain might some- limes rust it, or a tree might fall and break it; — but he should consider them as the same fiesh and blood with the Christians, and the same as if one man's body were to be divided into two parts. He then took up the parchment, and pre- sented it to the sachem, who wore the horn in the chaplet, and desired him and the other sachems to preserve it carefully for three genera- tions, that their children might know what had passed between them, just as if he had remained himself with them to repeat it." The solemn pledges of the Indians to perform faithfully their part in the contract followed his harangue. Every thing connected with this treaty — the only one, as Voltaire has remarked, ever made with the native inhabitants of America and the Christians that was not ratified by an oath, and that was never broken— was long held in rever- ential remembrance by both the English and the Indians. The parchment roll was carefully pre- served by the latter, and was exhibited by them in various conferences which they had with the English authorities, down nearly to the era of the independence of the colonies. The sash which Penn wore, Mr. Clarkson states, was, when he wrote, in the possession of Thomas Kett, Esq., of Seething Hall, near Norwich. The elm especial- ly, which had shaded the assembled negotiators, became celebrated from that day. With such general veneration and affection was it regarded, that even the British General Simcoe, when he was quartered in the neighborhood, during the Revolutionary war, placed a sentinel under it to protect it from being injured by his men when they went out to collect firewood. It was, at last, however, blown down in 1811, when its trunk and branches were cut into various articles, to be preserved as memorials of the honored tree. Penn, as he intimates in the passage we have just quoted, concluded several other treaties or bargains with the Indians after this, which may be called the foundation compact between the two parties. All these negotiations appear to have been conducted in a spirit of amity and mutual accommodation, which no attempt to obtain undue advantages, or any suspicion of such an attempt, on either side, ever disturbed. The state which Penn founded, although consist ing of comparatively a mere handful of people, subsisted for several generations, as has been remarked, " in the midst of six Indian nations, without so much as a militia for its defence." Mr. Clarkson affirms, that, " as far as the Indians and Quakers (who may be considered as the descendants of William Penn) were concerned, the great treaty was never violated, a good under- standing subsisting at this moment between them and the descendants of the original trihes. REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCE. After the battle of Lexington, General Gage, hav- ing succeeded the notorious Governour Hutchinson in the command of the king's troops in Boston, and being reinforced by Generals Howe, Clinton, and Burgoyne, issued his celebrated proclamation, ofi'er- ing pardon to all who would return to their allegi- ance. John Hancock and Samuel Adams, both members of Congress from Massachusetts, were ex- cepted from this " lying act of Grace," having by their zeal and abilities made themselves especially obnoxious to the ministry. Of Mr. Adams, it was said by Galloway, in his examination before the House of Commons, that " he eats little, drinks lit- tle, sleeps little, thinks much, and is most indefati- gable in the pursuit of his object. That by his su- periour abilities he managed the factions of Con- gress and the factions in New England." The fol- lowing parody on the proclamation (which the Whigs treated with great contempt and ridicule) ap- peared in the prints of the day. "Tom. Gage's Proclamation, And denunciation Against the New England nation. Wlio should his pious way shun. IVhcreas, the rebels, hereabout, Are stubborn still, and siill hold out, Refusing sliU to drinU their tea, In spite of Parliament and iiie ; And to maintain their bubble right, Prognosticate a real fight; Preparing l^int, and steel, and ball. My armies and my fleet to maul; Rebelling so, a graceless pack, As to let fly at soldier's back. All this, though long obliged to bear, From want of men, but not from fear, I'm able now, by augmentation, To give a proper castigaiion, But first, I do my grace extend. And hereby promise to befriend All those who do their sins confess. And meekly own they have transgressed ; Who wUl for pardon plead with me. Lead godly lives and drink their tea : Such future conduct and behaviour, Restores them to my gracious favour : But then, I must out of this plan lock Both Samuel Adams and John Hancock; For s ich vile traitors, like debentures. Must be tucked up, at all adventures. As any profTer of a pardon. Will only tend such rogues to harden. But every other mother's son, .4s soon as he lays down his gun, And on surrendering his toledo. May go to and fro, unhurt, as we do. And so doth run the king's command. That all who please may kiss my hand. By command of Mothee Carey, Thomas Pluckeb, Secretary. The name of the secretary, it is believed, is trtily given, while that of a female friend of the general is inserted in the place of that officer's. National Gazette. 152 AMERICAN BIOGKAPHY. NOTICE OF J. LANGDON.— BY jacob b. moore. The circumstances attending the early settle- ment of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, though generally supposed to be similar, were in some respects widely different. The planters of the old bay-state left their native country for the sake of enjoying here a degree of freedom in re- ligion, of which they were deprived in the land of their fathers. The settlers of Piscataqua, were actuated by a very difl'eront purpose. The pursuit of gain was uppermost in their thoughts, and they embarked at once in the lisheries and trade, which they followed with success, until many of the first settlers became men of opulence in the new country. The great importance of the fisheries, seems not to have escaped the attention of Captain Smith, the discoverer of New Hampshire, for in his account of New England, he thus addresses his countrymen : " Therefore, honorable and worthy countrymen, let not the meanness of the word Jis/i distaste you, for it will afford you as good gold as the mines of Potosi and Guiana, with less hazard and change, and more certainty and facility." A reverend divine, in 1690, was preaching in Portsmouth, on the depravity of the limes, and said: "You have forsaken the ])ious habits of your forefathers, who left the ease and comfort which they possessed in their native land, and came to this howling wilderness to enjoy without molestation, the e.\ercise of their pure principles of religion." One of the congregation inunedi- ately rose, and interrupted him thus : " Sir, you entirely mistake the matter; our ancestors did not come here on account of their religion, liui to ■fish and trade." A better illustration of the pur- suits of the early settlers of New Hampshire, perhaps, it would be difficult to give. The peo- ple of Portsmouth, wealthy and enterprising as they are, have followed the advice of Captain Smith, and have never suffered " the word Jish to distaste them," but have made it indeed " a mine of gold" to that ancient and flourishing town. Among the citizens of New Hampshire, educa- ted as merchants, who have risen to public dis- tinction, no one, |)crhnps, occupied a wider space than John Langdo.n, of Portsmoutii. He was born iu 1710, and received his early education in the celebrated grammar-school of Major Samuel Hale. The father of young Langdon, who was a thrifty farmer, intended his son should engage in the same occupation ; but the latter, looking upon commerce as the grand highway to wealih, set his heart upon becoming a merchant, and accord- ingly made the necessary preparations to enter a counting-house. One of the most extensive and successful mer- cantile houses at that time in Portsmouth, was that of Daniel Rindge, a counsellor under the provincial government, and to himyoung Langdon made application and was admitted to his count- ing-house, and soon became thoroughly versed in commercial transactions. After completing his apprenticesiiip with Rindge, he made several suc- cessful and very profitable trading voyages, with the view of ultimately establishing a commercial house of his own, in his native town. But the dark clouds that preceded the Revolution, began to skirt the horizon, and his mind was suddenly turned in a new direction. Naturally of a bold and fearless disposition, he entered at once into f the feeling of the colonists ; and possessing in a j remarkable degree the power to win over multi- ' tudes, he became the acknowledged leader of the "sons of liberty" in that little province, as much so as Samuel Adams and John Hancock, in Massa- chusetts. Langdon was a leader exactly suited to the crisis. He took a conspicuous and active part in the struggle, and soon became obnoxious to the government and many of the loyal citizens, who feared the total annihilation of their trade, and looked upon disloyalty as a crime of the deepest die. In the fall of 1774, after it had become ap- parent tliat the crisis must come, Lans*fon gather- ed around him a band of choice spirits, and to- gether they proceeded in silence to the king's fort at New Castle, seized upon all the powder and military stores, and removed their booty to a place of concealment, whence it could be called into use in case of emergency. This bold act produ- ced at once an intense excitement. Gov. Went- worth stormed, and issued proclamations, but not a voice uttered, or a thought whispered the secret. This was in December, four months before the battle of Lexington. In the spring of the year 1775, John Langdon was chosen a delegate to Congress, and attended the session which commenced in May, at Phila- delphia. In January, 1776, he was re-appointed a delegate, but was not present on the adoption of the Declaration of Independence. He com- manded a company of cadets soon after the com- mencement of the war, and at the time of the sur- render of the British army under Burgoyne, he was a volunteer at Bennington. He was also at Rhode Island with a detachment of his company, at the time the British troops had possession of the islatid, and when General Sullivan brought ofl the American troops. No man had a higher pop- ularity with the people at this time, than John Langdon. He was elected repeatedly to the legis- lature, and was several years speaker of assembly. When the news of the fall of Ticonderoga reached New Hampshire, the provincial legisla- ture was in session at Kxeter. It was a jicriod when the resources of the patriots were almost exhausted, the public credit was gone, and the members of the assembly were disheartened. Tlie men of New Hampshire had already exerted them- selves for the good of the cause. John Langdon was speaker of the assembly at the time. He rose in his place, on the morning after the intel- ligence was received, and addressed the house to the following effect : " My friends and fellow- citizens — I have three thousand dollars in hard money ; I will pledge my plate for three thousand more. I have seventy hogsheads of Tobago rum, which shall be sold for the most it will bring. Those are at the service of the state. If we suc- ceed in defending our firesides and homes, I may be remunerated ; if we do not, the property will be of no value to me." 153 This noble proposal infused new life into the assembly : and in the course of a few days, by means of the funds advanced by John Langdon, a brigade was assembled, and on its march to the frontiers, and to victory, under the gallant Stark. During the whole of the revolutionary struggle, Langdon was ever active and constant in his la- bors for the good cause. A man of the people, in the emphatic sense of the term, he was always popular with the great mass, whose interests he made it a point to sustain on all occasions. Pos- sessing a handsome address, and being open, obli- ging, and generous in his general conduct, he was calculated to gain the public esteem, and was among: the few who were fortunate enoujjh to re- tain it through life. He was honored with the highest oflices the people could bestow. He w?.s twice President of the State, under its first con- stitution ; was a member of the convention which formed the federal constitution ; was twelve years Senator in Congress, and subsequently for six years governor of the state. In 1811, he retired from public life, although urgently pressed to ac- cept the nomination of the Vice-Presidency, an office to which he might have been elected, had he not preferred the quiet and repose of private life. In the enjoyment of domestic relations, in his family, and a wide circle of friends, he chose to pass the evening of his days, remote from the cares and bustle of public life. He was religious, without being obnoxious to the charge of bigotry, and was liberal of his ample means, for charitable and benevolent purposes. He died at Portsmouth, in September, 1819, universally lamented by a people, in whose service he had spent the greater portion of his active life. Merchants' Magazine. THE L.\KE FISHERIES. Few persons except those engaged in or connected with the business, are aware of the extent and value of the Lake fisheries. They are a source of pro- duction which ought not to be overlooked, in esti- mating the resources of the country bordering upon the lakes. There are no published statisticks of this trade, so far as we know, nor any records, from which the quantities of fish put up for market can be accurately estimated. Estimates only can be given, and these may be more or less correct, according to the accuracy of the information on which they are based. Lake fisheries form a staple article of provisions at all the lake ports. The principal kinds are White fish and Mackinaw trout. The latter, a delicious fish, resembles the Salmon trout, and are possibly the same. They vary in size, from five pounds or under, to fifty or sixty pounds in weight. Besides these, are pike, pickerel, and different kinds of bass, the cisquet or cisquevet of Lake Superiour, a fine fish, like the mackerel in appearance and flavour, but lar- ger ; and the muscalonge, also a delicious fish, weigh- ing sometimes fifty or sixty pounds. The cisquet is scarcely known in market, as they are caught only in Lake Superiour, and few have been put up. The 20 muscalonge is not, in Iiake Erie at least, caught in very large quantities, and is generally sold fresh. There may be other kinds of fish, but those named are the chief, and the mo.st valuable. Verv few while fish are taken in Lake Erie, and we believe no trout. Pike, pickerel, and bass, are cKUght in abundance about the islands in the upper pan of the lakf , and in the Mauinee bay and river. These are salted in ccinsiderable quaniiliHs. In De- troit river the same kinds are found as in Lake Erie, and white fish are caught to some extent. In Lakes Huron and Michigan, and the straits of Mackinaw, trout, white fish, and other kinds are caught in abundance. The Thunder Bay islands, a tjroup near Thinider bay, in Lake Huron, the Bea- ver, Fox, and Manitou islands, near the fort of Lake .Michigan, and Twin rivers, on the western shore, are the principal fisheries of those two lakes. Fish arc caught, however, at other places in the lakes. They are also caught in the vicinity of Mackinaw in abundance ; about the small islands in the straits, and at Point St. Ignace. It is supposed that these fish might be taken in Green bay. A year or two since, some persons caught a very large quantity of trout at Sturyeoii bay in winter, fishing with a hook through the ue. They piled up their fish, intending to carry them, frozen, to Navarino, to be salted ; but a sudden thaw spoiled the speculation. Immense quantities have been taken upon Lake Superiour for two or three years past ; it is said that these are mostly caught about the group of islands known as the " Twelve Apostles," near the head of ihe lake. But little is known about this, however, as the trade of Superiour is, in fact, monopolized by the American Fur Company. There is no mode of going up this lake except in vessels of one of these companies ; and the American Fur Company does not permit adventurers a passage in its vessels. Two schooners have been heretofore employed upon Lake Superiour ; one belonging to each of these companies. A new one was built the last spring by the American Fur Company, so that there are now three. When the canal around the Sault de St. Marie shall be finished, it is likely there will be a rush of competition for the business of Lake Superiour. Whether the expectation of those who are sanguine will be realized, as to the extent and value of the trade thus to be opened, time will deter- mine. Furs are growing scarce upon the shore, it is said ; fish are abundant, and whether there are minerals upon the shore worth digging for, is dis- puted. But when that ship canal is completed. Lake Superiour and the country around it, will be niinuiely explored, and its resources, whatever they may be, ascertained. But to return to fish ; a gentleman, who has good means of judging, estimates the quantity put up for market upon the lake in 1837 at 12,000 barrels, and of these he judges 7000 barrels were brought from Lake Superiour. At nine dollars the barrel, which may be taken as a fair price, the whole would amount to $108,000. If any cotemporary upon the Lake has the means, we shall be glad to see a fuller and more minute ac- count of the fisheries than this — which is such as our imperfect information on the subject enables us to give, Cleveland Herald and Gazette. 154 BIOGRAPHY. RUFUS KING. [From Knapp'3 American Biography.] RuFUS King, a distinguished staiesmaii, and min- ister to the Court of St. James, I'rotii tlie Uniled States, was the eldest son o( a merchant of Scarbor- ough, Maine. He was born in 1756. He was lit- ted for college by Master Moody, an eminent in- strucler of youth, and at that lime preceptor of Dummer Academy, at Bylield, in the county of Es- sex, and state of Massachusetts. Master Moody was a thorough classical scholar, and inspired his pupils with a high veneration for the learned lan- guages. Mr. King graduated at the commencement of 1777, with the first honours of the class, which was considered an e.\celienlone. Uore and Dawes were in this class, and others of distinction. They considered King the first m their tune, for all things; — in every study — for languages, mathematicks, and oratory ; and in every atlilelick sport, he took, the lead — he ran fa.ster, juinj)ed higher, swam belter, than any of his coinpamons. Every eye was on him as a young man ol' high promise. The iie.xi year after he lefl college, he was made an aid to General S'llliviin, when that commander marched with his force to attack the British on Rhode Island. On returning from this campaign he went to i\ew- buryport and resumed the study of the law with Mr. Parsons, then, as during life, ihe first lawyer in the commonwealth. -Mr. King was admitted to the bar in 1780 ; and on his appearance fulfilled tlie expect- ation of hii friends. There are now many living who frequently mention one of his hrst cases. A litigious citizen, of no inconsiderable wealth, had refused to pay one of his female servants, alleging that while she was in his house, some property had disappeared, and pretended that she was answerable for it. She sued, and engaged Mr. King as her attorney and counsel in the case. On the trial, he was severe, and justly so, upon the litigious cliarac- ter of the defendant. The plaintilf was, of course, made everything honest and fair, and the verdict was given in her favour, and all the bystanders look such an interest in the cause ihal Mr. King was at once engaged in almost every cause to be argued at the court of common |)leas. Such was his rep- utation at the bar, and so many were desirous of his services, that the supreme court admitted him as au attorney and counsellor long before' the ordinary course. He became, from his ready elocution, and courteous manners, at once tlie idol of the people, and was soon sent a reprKsenlalive from the town of Newburvpoil to the legislature of the coininon- wealtli. In this body, In^ soon became a leader. His eloquence and his general inlbrnialion, |)eculiar- ly fitted him lor distinction in such a body of j)airiots as that house was then composed ot. In 1 784, lii^ was sent to Congress, and took a high stand there as he had done in the legislalure of Massachusetts. While a member of the old Congress he introduced a bill, which wasdrawn willi prrscient sagacity by thai pro- found lawyer, Natlian Dane of Massachusetts, who is now living — prohibiting slavery northwest of the Ohio. Mr. King enforced this bill with a hue speech full of the true doctrines of liberty. This was before these doctrines were hackneyed by every demagogue in the land. In 1787 he was selected as a delegate from Massachusetts to the convention, called for devising a constitution for the United Stales ; the old confederation being found miserably defective, giving little more than advisatory power to Congress in all matters of revenue and defence. As soon as he returned from this duty, he was sent to a convention held in Massachusetts, for the adoption of the proposed constitution. Here he was efficient and active, if not so forward as he might have been had he not had a share in forming the instrument under consideration. This was the most important moment in our national history. In former times these were topicks in which all could agree — all felt oppression : all had grievances, real or imagin- ary, to redress ; — changes might be rung on a thou- sand subjects to rouse the people to resistance ; but when independence was achieved, and no foe at our doors, it was a task, indeed, to make men yield a particle of what they considered their dear-bought ] rights, to establish a permanent government. A ma- 1 jtuity of those who fought the battles of the revolu- I lion, and of those who made great sacrifices of prop- erty to sustain us in the perilous contest, were oppo- sed to the proposed constitution ; — they were fearful of entrusting power to any man, or body of men, and probably, if the great idol of the nation, Washing- ton, had not given the sanction of his revered name to the instrument, it would never have been adopted. 'I'his was a time that called out the sagacity, the in- tegrity, the light of the mind of the people, to meet the honest fears, and patriotick forebodings of a good and substantial class in the community, a class that was not to be met by sarcasm or contumely, but was to be reasoned with in every form of argument, or they could not be moved an inch ; the)- were not the vulgar, to be despised ; not the noisy to be out-clam- oured. Parsons, King, Gore, and others of high intellectual powers, became all things, like the Apostle Paul, to all men, to save some ; and like the great theological teacher, succeeded. The courte- ous manner, the universal intelligence, and the ready colloquial powers of Mr. King, made him conspicu- ous among the apostles of rational liberty, as he had been before among the representatives of the people. He had married in New York in 1786, and soon after this effort in the convention of Massachusetts, went to settle in that state, having relinquished his practice at the bar. When the constitution was carried into effect, he was returned with General Schuyler, a senator from that state. In this august body, as it certainl)' ihen was, he became at once consjjicuous. In the great agitation respecting the British treaty, he was on the side of Washington and Hamillon, and bore his part with them like a man of equal mind and fearless patriotism. There was a boldness in the character of .Mr. King, that at times drew forth the admiralit/ii of his opponents. There were niauy instances which called forth his eloquence in the senate of the United Stales. On his second term, he was often pitched against his col- league, .\aron Burr, one of the most subtle and inge- nious of the great American orators ; and particularly against him, and Mr. Monroe, in the case of Albert Gallatin, who was returned a senator from Pennsylva- nia to the United States senate, when he was noteligi- 155 ble by the constitution. Mr. King was aided by Ellsworth and Strong, and the fight was powerfully carried on, and ended in victory on his side. In 1796, Mr. King was nominated by Washing- ton as Minister Plenipotentiary to Great Britain. He remained in this capacity until the second year of Jefferson's administration. He was considered one of the first diplomatists of the age — full of dig- nity and ease — attentive to the rights of American citizens, and always maintaining the character of a gentleman in every rank of society. While in En- gland, he negotiated for a convention to settle the boundary lines between the United States and Cana- da, as he knew that this would, if not settled, be- come a subject not only of discussion and conten- tion, but perhaps of war. Mr. Jefferson did not at this time feel disposed to touch the subject, it has since been settled. Mr. King acted wilh Hamilton in restoring and establishing publick credit, then fallen to a low slate, and a great debt was remaining as a foul blot on the escutcheon of the country without any means devised for paying it off. After his return in 1803, he visited the state of Massachusetts. At Newbury- port, where he had studied law, and commenced his practice, he was greeted with enthusiasm and invi- ted to partake of a publick dinner. He accepted the invitation. It was a joyous occasion and he ex- erted himself to make all happy. The friends of his youth were around him — a thousand reminis- cences were awakened, and never did a dinner — the modern pledge of affection and admiration — go off better — at every step he found old friends glad to see him, and the. young who had grown up since his time were familiar with the history of his life, and were eager to catch a glimpse at the man their fathers had delighted to honour. He made a sort of triumphal tour through his own country, an occur- rence that seldom happens to any one whether proph- et or statesman. For several years after his return, he retired to private life and enjoyed the otium cum dignitate on his farm, with his books and children around him. After tlie declaration of war in 1812, he took sides with the government on all the main points of the controversy, and for this was sent by the legisla- ture of New York a senator to Congress. His speeches at this time gave him great celebrity with the democratick party, but abated some of the fer- vour of alieclion which existed in the breasts of his did friends ; but most of them retained their first love, if they did not come into his opinions in poli- ticks. In 1816, he was a candidate for the guber- natorial chair of the stale of New York ; but did not succeed in the election. In 1820, he was again elected to the senate of the United States, and took an active part in that body. In 1825, he was nom- inated by Mr. Adams a minister to Great Britain, and proceeded to that court, but his health was such, that he did not do much in the way of negotiation. Mr. King returned in 1826, and retired to liis farm on Long Island, where he lingered until April 29, 1827, when he died, aged 72 years. There are aome things attributed to his pen of high merit. It is said he wrote, with Hamilton, the papers on the British treaty, signed Camillus. Hamilton wrote the ten first, and Kitig the remainder. These pa- pers had an extensive circulation, and great celebri- ty, and deservedly so ; but it may, perhaps, be said, that no man who said so many wise things, ever wrote so few for posterity. For many years he was considered the first orator in the country, and yet no one can put his finger on a speech of his that will sustain that reputation ; but no man could be in com- pany with Mr. King an hour, without fully believing every word that had been said of his great powers as an orator, and of his sagacity as a statesman. His style of conversation was admirable. His languao^e was pure, good old English. He took hold of pas- sing occurrences, and lavished upon them the afflu- ence of intellectual wealth, from an inexhaustible storehouse ; without effort, he threw a beam of light upon every subject in his way, and illustrated, adorned, and glorified, everything he touched. The great men of his day did not think enough of the time to come. His friend, classmate, and rival — if friends can be rivals, and if we go back to the origin of the word, they can be; opposite sides of the same river, whose waters flowed harmoniously on togeth- er, gave rise to the term — Christopher Gore, had the same powers of the imagination, and the same depth of thought. These friends, like Castor and Pollux, shared their immortality together, without any heart- rending alternations of supremacy. They died within two little months of each other, with nearly the same views of this and of another world, and no one will object to their being placed among the con- stellations of worthies, in our Zodiack of American statesmen and patriots. Gore died childless, but King left several sons to perpetuate his name and fame. REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCE. In the autumn of 1777, when Lord Howe had possession of Philadelphia, the situation of the Americans who could not follow their beloved commander, was truly distressing, subject to the every day insults of cruel and oppressive foes. Bound to pay obedience to laws predicated on the momentary power of a proud and vindictive com- mander, it can be better pictured than described. To obtain the common necessaries of life, partic- ularly flour, they had to go as far as Bristol, a distance of eighteen or twenty miles, and even this indulgence was not granted thein, until n pass was procured from Lord Howe, as guards were placed along Vine-street, extending from the Delaware to the Schuylkill, forming a" complete barrier ; beyond these, through the woods, ex- tending as far as Frankford, were stationed the piquet guards — thus rendering it in a manner im- possible to reach the Bristol mills unless first ob- taining a pass. The commander-in-chief of the Ainerican forces was then encamped at the Valley Foro-e, suffer- ing from cold, hunger and the inclemency of the season. The British rolled in plenty, and spent their days in feastings, their nights in balls, riots and dissipation ; thus resting in supposed securi- ty, while the American chieftain was planning a mode for their final extirpation. A poor woman with six small children, whose husband was at the 156 Valley Forge, had made frequent applications for a puss. Engagements rendered it impossible for her cruel tormentors to give her one. Rendered desperate from disappointment, and the cries of her children, she started alone without a pass, and by good hick eluded the guards and reached Bristol. It will be remembered by many now living, that gi.x brothers by the name of Loalc, or Doale, about this time committed many acts of heroic bravery, but more in the character of marauders than soldiers. They were men full six feet high, slout and active, a fearless intrepidity character- ized their deeds, and they always succeeded in making their escape. A marked partiality to the Americans rendered them obnoxious to the Brit- ish, and always welcome to the former, to whom they conveyed what information they could glean in their adventures. Our adventurous female, having procured her flour in a pillowcase holding about twenty pounds, was returning with a light heart to her anxious and lonely babes. She had passed the piquet guards at Frankford, and was just entering the woods a little this side, when a tall, stout man stepped from behind a tree, and putting a letter in her hand, requested her to read it. She grasp- ed with eager joy the letter bearing the character of her husband's hand writing. After a pause he said, "your husband is well, madam, and request- ed me to say, that in a short time he will be with you ; money is a scarce article among us — I mean among them ; but on account of your husband's partiality to the cause of liberty, I am willing to become his banker." So saying, he handed her a purse of money, "My means, madam, are ade- quate, or I would not be thus lavish," seeing she was about to refuse it. " You said, sir, my husband would see me shortly ; how do you know that which seems so impossible 1 and how did you know me, who never" — " Hush, madam, we arc now approaching the British guard ; suffice it to say, the American commander has that in his head, which like an earthquake, will shake the whole American con- tinent, and expunge these miscreants ; but, hark, take the road to the left — farewell." So saying, he departed. She gave one look, but vacancy filled the spot where he stood. With slow and cautious step she approached Vine-street. Al- ready her fire burned beneath her bread, when the awful word halt ! struck her to the soul. She started, and found herself in the custody of a British sentinel. " Your pass, woman." I have none, sir; my children are" — "D — n the rebel crew, why do you breed enemies to your king — this flour is mine — off", woman, and die with your babes." A groan was her only answer. The ruffian was about departing, when the former messenger appeared — ^his whole demeanor was changed ; humble simplicity marked his gait— he approached the guard with a seeming fearfulness, and begged him in a suppliant voice to give the poor woman her flour. "Fool! idiot!" exclaim- ed the guard, " who are you 1 see yonder guard- house — if you interfere here you shall soon be its inmate." "Maybe so, sir ; but won't you give the poor woman the means of supporting her little family one week longer 1 recollect the distance she has walked, the weight of the bag, and recol- lect"— " Hell and fury, sirrah ! Why bid me recollect, you plead in vain — begone, or I'll seize you as a spy-" " You wont give the poor woman her flour." " No." " Then by my country's faith and hopes of free- dom, you shall !" and with a powerful arm, he seized the guard by the throat and hurled him to the ground. "Run, madam, run — see the guard- house is alive — seize your flour, pass Vine-street, and you are safe." 'Twas done. The guard made an attempt to rise, when the stranger drew a pistol and shot him dead. The unfortunate man gazed around him with a fearless intrepidity. There was but one way of escape, and that through the wood. Seizing the dead man's musket, he started like a deer pursued by the hounds. " Shoot him down ! down with him!" was echoed from one line to another. The desperado was lost in the wood, and a general search commenced ; the object of their pursuit in the mean time flew like lightning ; the main guard was left behind, but the whole piquet line would soon be alarmed — one course alone presented itself, and that was to mount his horse, which was concealed among the bushes, and gallop down to the Delaware ; a boat was already there for him. The thought was no sooner suggested than it was put in execution. He mounted his horse, and, eluding the alarmed guards, had nearly reached the Delaware. Here he found himself headed, and hemmed in by at least fifty exasperated soldiers. One sprang from behind a tree, and demanded imme- diate surrender. " 'Tis useless to prevaricate — you are now our prisoner, and your boat, which before excited suspicion, is now in our possession." "Son of a slave ! slave to a king I how dare you to address a freeman ! Surrender yourself — a Doale never surrendered himself to any man, far less to a blinded poltroon — away, or die;" and lie attempted to pass. The guard levelled his gun ; but himself was levelled to the dust ; the ball of Doale's pistol had been swifter than his own. His case was now truly desperate ; behind him was the whole line of guards — on the north of him the Frankford piquets, and on the left of him the city of Philadelphia filled with British troops. One way and only one presented itself, and was to cross the river. He knew his horse plunged in — a shout succeeded, and ere he reach- ed half the distance, twenty armed boats were in swift pursuit. His noble horse dashed through the Delaware, his master spurred him on w'ith double interest while the balls whistled around him. The tide was running down, when he reach- ed the Jersey shore, he found himself immedi- ately opposite the old slip at Market- street. On reaching the shore he turned round, took out a pistol, and with steady aim, fired at the first boat ; a man fell over the side and sunk to rise no more. He then disappeared in the wood. The angry, harassed and disappointed pursuers gave one look, one curse, and returned to the Pennsylvania shore, fully believing, that, if he was not the devil, he was at least one of his principal agents. 159 DEFEAT OF GENERAL BRADDOCK. On the opposite page we present the reader with an engraved representation of the defeat of General Braddock. The artist, Mr. J. G. Chapman, has selected for the subject of his design, the moment that General Braddock is carried from the field mor- tally wounded ; Lieutenant Washington assuming the command, and with his Virginia troops, covering vice of Washington, who wished to Jead with his Virginians, the British grenadiers marched in front, about half a mile ahead ; the Virginia troops fol- lowed ; and the rest of tiie army brought up the rear. The ground was covered with whortleberry bushes reaching to the horses' bellies, until they gained the top of a hill, which commanded an ex- tensive prospect far ahead. Here a council was the retreat of the British, and saving the corps from held, during which, the traditionarj' authority I fol- utter annihilation. The best narrative of the action ^ow describes Braddock as standing with a fusee in that we can present, is contained in the interesting Life of Washington, by that distinguished author, J. K. Paulding, from which we quote as follows : — General Braddock had landed at the capes of Virginia, and proceeded to Williamsburgh, the seat of govermuent, where he consulted with Governour Dinwiddie. He incjuired for Colonel Washington, with whose character he was well acquainted, and expressed a wish to see him. On being informed of his resignation, and the cause, he is said to have exclaimed, thai " he was a lad of sense and spirit, and had acted as became a soldier and a man of honour." He immediately wrote him a pressing in- vitation to assume the situation of volunteer aidde- carap, which involved no question of rank, and which, after consultation with his family, was ac- cepted. Washington once more resumed his mil- itary career, by joining the British forces at Bel- haven. These were shortly after reinforced by three com- panies of Virginia riflemen, raised by an act of the legislature, and consisting of as brave hardy spirits as ever drew a trigger. This accession made the army about two thousand strong, and with these, in the month of June, 1755, Braddock set forth in his march through the wilderness, from whence he and many others of his companions never returned. The troops under Braddock marched in two di- visions to the old station at the Little meadows. On the way, Washington was attacked by a fever, and became so ill, that the commanding officer insisted upon his remaining until the rear of the army came up under Colonel Dunbar. He consented, much against his will ; but the instant he was able, pushed on and joined Braddock the evening before he fell into that fatal ambuscade, where he perished with many other gallant spirits, not in a blaze of glory, bat in the obscurity of the dismal forests. Washington, oti rejoining the army, urged upon General Braddock the necessity of increasing and incessant caution. He dwelt much on the silent, unseen motions of the warriours of the woods, who come like birds on the wing, without being preceded by any indications of their approach, or leaving a trace behind them. But the fate of Braddock was decreed ; or rather, his own conduct sealed that destiny which ever follows at the heels of folly and impriidence. He despised the advice of wisdom and experience, and bitterly did he suffer the penalty. The silly pride of a British officer disdained the lessons of a provincial youth, who had never fought on the bloody plains of Flanders. There can be no doubt that the superiority affected by the natives of England over those of the American colonies, was one of the silent yet effective causes of the Revolution. The army halted at Cumberland, for some days, and then proceeded to its ruin. Contrary to the ad- his right hand, the breech on the ground, and rub- bing the leaves with his toe, as if in great perplex- ity, without saying a word. The consultation over, they proceeded onward through the deep woods, the order of march being changed, and the infantry in advance. When within about seven miles of Fort Duquesne, and passing through a narrow defile, a fire from some ambushed enemy arrested their march, and laid many a soldier dead on the ground. Nothing was seen but the smoke of the unerring rifle rising above the tops of the woods, and nothing heard but the report of the fatal weapons. There was a dead silence among the savages and their allies, who, masked behind the trees, were equally invisible with the great king of terrours, whose work they were performing. The army of Braddock, and the general himself, were both taken by surprise, and the consequence was, a total neglect or forgetfulness of the proper mode of defence or attack. The army of Braddock suffered a total defeat. The survivors retreated across the Monongahela, where they rested, and the general breathed his last. His gallant behaviour during the trying situa- tion in which he was placed, and his death, which in some measure paid the penalty of his foolhardi- hood, have preserved to his memory some little respect, and for his fate perhaps more sympathy than it merited. He was one of those military men of little character and desperate fortime, which mother-countries are accustomed to send out, for the purpose of foraging in the rich fields of their colonies. He was succeeded in his command by Colonel Dunbar, who ordered all the stores, except such as were indispensably necessary, to be de- stroyed, and sought safety, with the remainder of his European troops, in the distant repose of the city of Philadelphia, where he placed the army in winter- quarters in the dog-days, leaving Virginia to the protection of her gallant rangers. The conduct of the British troops on this occa- sion, was, though perhaps natural in the terrible and untried situation in which they were placed, such as to excite the contempt of Washington and his pro- vincials, to whom the escape of the surviving reg- ulars was entirely owing. It was he and they that exclusively made head against the invisible enemy, and finally so checked his proceedings, as to secure a quiet retreat to a place of security. But for them, in all probability, scarce a man would have escaped. The British officers behaved with great gallantry, and upward of sixty of them were either killed or wounded ; but the privates exhibited nothing but cowardice, confusion, and disobedience ; and it seems quite probable that Washington here learned a secret which was of infinite service in his future career, by teaching him that British grenadiers were not invincible. 160 The provincial troops, on the contrary, according to the testimony of Washington, " behaved hiie raen," to use his own language. Out of three com- panies that were in the action, but thirty survived. The regulars, on the contrary, " ran away like sheep before liounds," leaving every thing to the mercy of the enemy. " When we endeavoured to rally them," continues Washington, in his letter to the governour of Virginia, " in hopes of regaining the ground we had lost, and what was left on it, it was with as little success, as if we had attempted to have stopped the wild bears of the mountain, or the rivulets with out feet." To Preserve Specimens in Natural History To preserve the skins of animals for exliiliition, ar- senical soap has been found to be the most perfect guaril against vermin, and is prepared in the follow- ing manner, viz. camphor 5 oz. ; arsenic in powder, 2 lbs. ; white soap, 2 lbs. ; salt of tartar, 12 oz. ; chalk in powder, 4 oz. Rub this thoroughly over the in- ner surface, and afterward stufT the animal for the case. THE PRAIRIES. The most remarkable feature of the Western world is the prairies. There are districts both in South America and in Asia, the pampas and the steppes, to which they have been compared, but perhaps without sufl'icient reason. In Europe I am not aware that any part of the surface assumes the form and exhibits the same phenomena. Some hold, that the whole of the vast region over which they extend, was once submerged, and there is much to be said in support of this theory. They appear, however, under various forms, and from ob- servation 1 should divide them into three great di- visions : the " oak-openings," the rich level or rol- ling prairie interspersed with belts and points of tim- ber, and the vast steril prairies of the Far West. And first, the "oak-openings," so termed from their distinctive feature of the varieties of oak which are seen scattered over them, interspersed at times with pine, black-walnut, and other forest-trees, which spring from a rich vegetable soil, generally adapted to the purpose of agriculture. The surface is ordi- narily dry and rolling. The trees are of medium growth, and rise from a grassy turf seldom encumber- ed with brushwood, hut not unfre(|uently broken by jungles of rich and gaudy flowering ])lants and ot dwarf sumach. Among the "oak-openings," you find some of the most lovely landscape of the West, and travel for miles and miles through varied park scenery of natural growth, with all the diversity of gently swelling hill and dale — here, trees grouped, or standing single — and there, arranged in long avenues, as though by human hands, with slips of open meadow between. Sometimes, the openings are interspersed with numerous clear lakes, and with this addition become enchantingly beautiful. But few of these reservoirs have any apparent inlet. They are fed by subterraneous springs or the rains, and lose their surplus waters by evaporation. Many lie in singularly-formed hollows, reflecting in their clear bosoms the varied scenery of the swelling banks, and the alternation of wood and meadow Michigan and Illinois abound with these "oak-open- ings." Beyond the Mississippi they also occur ; but there they hardly form a distinct feature, while on this side they would appear to form a transition from the dense American forest to the wider "rolling prairie," which further west ordinarily bounds the thick forest without any such character of country intervening. The rich " rolling prairie," which would form the second division, presents other features, and in a great degree another vegetation. These prairies abound with the thickest and most luxuriant belts of forest, or as they are called " timbers ;" appearing interspersed over the open face of the country in bands or patches of every possible form and size ; sometimes checkering the landscape at short inter- vals, and at other times miles and miles apart. They present wide and slightly undulating tracts of the rankest herbage and flowers — many ridges and hol- lows filled with purple thistles — ponds covered with aquatick plants ; and in Missouri, I always observed that these "rolling prairies," occupied the higher portions of the country, the descent to the forested bottoms, being invariably over steep and stony de- clivities. The depth and richness of the soil on these lands are almost incredible, and the edges of the bands of forest are consequently a favourite haunt of the emigrant settler and backwoodsman. The game is usually abundant. Over this class of prairie the fire commonly passes in the autumn, and to this cause alone the open state of the country is ascribed by many; as, whenever a few years elapse without the conflagration touching a district, iho thick-sown seeds of the slumbering forest, with which the rich vegetable mould seems to be laden, spring up from the green sod of the country. The surface is first covered with brushwood composed of sumach, hazel, wild-cherry, and oak ; and if the fire be still kept out, other forest-trees follow. From those we pass to the vast boundless prairiets of the far West — such as we skirted beyond Fori Gibson, unbroken, save by the forest rising on the alluvium of some river shore below their level, or by the skirts of knotted and harsh oak-wood of stunted growth — thick without luxuriance, such as the Cross Timbers of disagreeable memory. These prairies seem to occupy the highest parts of the table-land toward the courses of the great rivers and thi'ir trib- utaries. Here the soil is poor in the extreme, and charged with iron and salt ; the water is scarce and bad, and the grass is luxuriant. They abound with abrupt and peculiarly-shaped flinty hdls, swelling up from the general level — great salt plains — rock salt — and occasionally with isolated rocks rising from the surlace, with steep perpendicular sides, as though cut by the hand of man, standing alone in the midst of the desert, a wonder to the Indian and the trapper. The outline of these prairies is grand and majes- tick in the extreme. They are rarely perfectly level. As you advance, one immense sea of yrass swells to the horizon after another, unbroken for leagues by rock or tree. They are the home of the bison, and the hunting-ground of the unfettered Indian of the North and West. 161 REVOLUTIONARY BATTLES. THE BATTLE OF LONG-ISLAND BY SAMUEL WARD, JH. ESQ. From the Knickerbocker Magazine, for April, 1939. All knowledge is but history. Each fragment of the material world reveals a story of time and change, remote and endless. The principle is derived from facts which symbolize the histories of observation and experiment, and these, in turn, involve those of the sage and philosopher, of their predecessors, and of by-gone ages. Upon each visible object is writ- ten, in familiar or in unknown characters, its histo- ry ; and if we but knew the physiognomy of inani- mate as well as of living creations, earth, stone, and plant would exhibit, as indeed they often do, to the naturalist, expressions as indicative of their past, as is man's countenance, with its furrow of care, or smile of joy, with passion's glow or its ashes, of his life and actions. The face of the globe, with the living imprint of God's hand upon it, unfolds a chap- ter in the history of the display of omnipotence, and we personify the history of our race, imbodying its undying passions and imperfections, and reproducing its mortal and perishable beauty. The variegated cheek and scented breath of the flower, fade and ex- pire in autumn ; the vegetative life abides until the coming spring. All these proclaim the insignificance of time, the majesty of eternity. While the history of human nature is indelibly traced in each successive family of men, that of hu- man creations has to be recorded in the archive, and rescued from the crumbling column. The work of the Almighty, the living principle and its attendants, dies not ; the traces of men's labour are washed away by the succeeding tide. But here and there, where the forms have been preserved, they seem, when compared to the divine productions, not unlike the precise diagram, beside the harmonious and waving outlines of external natural beauty. The history we cultivate, is the natural history of society, of the joint efforts of bodies of men, to render the earth habitable for its increasing populations, and these, in turn, worthy the dwelling's protection, and grateful for its nourishment. Do not the nations of antiquity appear to have lived, and flourished, and toiled, that we might succeed to their power, inherit their experience, and reap the fruits of their labours ? So also are we the servants of posterity. The road is an emblem of the destiny of those who made it ; built for the use of a generation, passed over as the path to some near or distant land, succeeding races inquire not whose hands constructed it. They, too, are travelling toward their journey's end. History and times are ours ; the index and dial- plate which measure our span, the foundations of our knowledge, and the standard of our computation, the instruments of spiritual and material comparison. But the one sits, like a queen, upon a throne, robed in purple, a sceptre in her hand, and on her brow a diadem, wherein each race of men enshrine a new jewel. Heroes and statesmen are her courtiers, and the brightest shapes of human intelligence hover around her. The other is creation's slave, fate's executioner ; unerringly reckoning the debt of man and of nature, the minutes of life, the seasons of the year. He reaps, with a pitiless scythe, 21 "Harvests of souls by Hope matured, Garlands of self-devoted flowers ; The spirit bright to life scarce lured, The heart that mourns its saddened hours.' Had authentick records preserved for us the whole experience of nations, the precious inheritance would have permanently advanced our material progress ; and in a still greater degree will the heritage of ac- curate memorials of the men and events of modern civilization, of the motives of the one, and the causes of the other, enlighten posterity in the path of human improvement. The traces of early society are proofs of material and sensual progress ; as for instance, the pyramid, and the bracelet upon the arm of the lonely king entombed within its giant walls. These are points of departure ; for the distance accomplish- ed may be measured ; not so the route beyond. It is true, we know the virtues or the crimes of a few, in those days, when nations rose and fell, even as they now expand, and when the many felt not. They are now the lords of the earth. But only since the fiat lux of Guttemberg, have "the people" begun to real- ize their ItJng-withheld inheritance; and events are now chronicled less to gratify the pride of the living, or the curiosity of the unborn, less for purposes of narration and romance, than to show the increased capabilities of man, and swell the page of his moral experience. Apart from the higher, the epochal incidents in the life of humanity, the epitomes of years, deeds, and nations, there are events which do not claim to be inscribed upon the page of general history ; and yet, from the deep local influence they once exer- cised, still preserve a commemorative interest, and convey an impressive lesson. The great war of our independence is rife with such ilhistrations. Its memories and heroes crowd so thickly near us, that its history cannot yet be written. But as each day adds to the legendary store, and we draw nigh the hour when it may be traced, time silently distils the mass of events, and the mingled vapours which as- cend from the alembick, will be condensed by im- partiality into truth. The events we are about to recall, occurred in New York and its vicinity, between the months of September, 1775, and September, 1776. I am aware that these varying scenes and imperfect sketches may resemble a phantasmagoria, rather than pencil- lings of men and of actions. But they will be ex- hibited upon a curtain, stained with as noble blood as was ever shed in the cause of freedom ; and though the hand that holds the transparent glass, be a feeble one ; though faint the colours, and indistinct the out- lines ; the personages and scenes are not fictitious or fanciful ; but once stood gallantly forth, with drawn sword or levelled musket, relieved by a battle-cloud rising from ground so near, that a cannon fired there at this moment, would startle with its reverberations the peaceful echoes around us. The revolution was hardly three months old. But already from the cradle of liberty it had strangled its serpents at Lexington and Bunker's Hill. The Amer- ican army, encamped around Boston, owned Wash- ington's command, and held at bay the beleagured British. In the oppressed colonies, a spirit of re- sistance had organized the resolute yeomanry ; and with the victories inscribed upon the national escut- cheon, the patriotick chord was vibrating in every PLAN OF THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND. 163 heart. War had not yet disturbed our goodly city, which lay in unconscious repose, on the mellow night of the twenty-third of August, 1775. One or two riots, the result of political faction, rather than of unadulterated relieliion, alone gave tokens of a tur- bulent spirit. The English governour, Tryon, still dwelt here, an object of courtesy, though of mistrust. In the North river, off the fort, lay the Asia, a Brit- ish man-of-war, with whose presence people had become familiar. The publick mind was in a state of vague apprehension. It remained for its hopes and fears to assume a definite shape. Toward midnight, our forefathers were aroused from their first slumbers by the thunder of artillery. At that silent hour, the ominous sounds were un- welcome visitants. The cannon peals were relieved by the sharp discharge of musketry ; and the still- ness that ensued, was occasionally broken by the hasty footsteps of one summoned to his duty, with unbuckled sabre trailing on the ground, or by the agitated cry of a helpless woman, fleeing from the audible danger. Drums beat to arms, volley after volley announced the continuation of strife ; and the half-wakened dreamer no longer mistook these cries of war for echoes of the eastern battles. As the night advanced, one body of men succeeding another was revealed by the blaze of torches, and the cum- brous wheels of the field-piece they were dragging, seemed to leave reluctantly the scene of conflict. By-and-by, troops of dwellers in the lower part of the town, escaped through the streets, from their menaced or shattered abodes, in confusion and fear. Was the enemy in the city ? the Battery taken ? Were the troops forced to retreat before a victorious foe ? These interrogatories were breathed rather than spoken, or if put, were not answered. It was a memorable night, and something seemed to have delayed the approach of morning. The town was early astir. At break of day, many inhabitants were seen issuing from their dwellings, and wending their way to the Battery. To those al- ready assembled there, when night uprolled her cur- tain o( clouds, the glowing dawn that shot over our noble bay, disclosed traces of disorder, and ravages of cannon-ball, on the one hand, and on the other, the smoke still ascending from the angry artillery to the powder-stained rigging of the Asia. Moreover, the field-pieces, which but yesterday guarded the Battery, were gone. These the timid accepted as tokens of danger, and prepared to depart ; the in- trepid hailed them as auspicious omens of future victories. The twenty-one pieces of ordnance had been re- moved, by order of the provincial Congress. Cap- tain John Lamb's artillery corps, and the " Sons of Liberty," headed by " King Sears," were the heroes of the adventure. The efforts of the enemy to pro- tect these royal stores, had proved unavailing. Warned of the intended movement, Captain Vande- put, of the Asia, detached an armed barge to watch, and if needful, interfere with, its execution. A musket discharged from this boat, drew Captain Lamb's volley, and a man on board was killed. The Asia fired three cannon. The drum beat to arms in the city. The man-of-war sustained the cannonade. Three citizens were wounded, and the upper parts of various houses near Whitehall and the Fort, received much injury. A son of Captain Lamb, whose regi- ment covered the cannon's retreat, is now living in, this city, and in the rooms of the '■ Historical Socie- ty" may be seen one of the very balls fired into New York that night. Captain Sears, the other leader of this exploit was one of our earliest patriots. As far back as the fifth of March, 1775, in an encounter between the Whigs and the Tories, the latter, being worsted, were said to have dispersed, lest King Sears, as he was called in ridicule, in his fury should head a mob, and do them some capital injury. He had been a member of the New York Provincial Congress, had acted a conspicuous part in the excitements occa- sioned by the Boston Port Bill, and was in after months warmly recommended by General Washing- ton to Major General Lee, for his zeal and fidelity. Immediately after this affair, he disappeared from our city, and sought, in Connecticut, livelier sympa- thies than were then to be encountered here. A detailed account of the Asia affair, and of its consequences, may be found in the columns of the "New York Gazette," a newspaper issued in those days from the southeast corner of Wall and Pearl streets, by one James Rivington, a loud-voiced royal- ist. It is almost impossible to turn over its time- stained leaves, filled with the records of frivolity and faction, of benevolence and crime, of the current opinions and absurdities, and of the wants and sup- plies of an olden day, without reflecting on that strangest feature of modern times, the press, or im- agining how different would be our views of remote ages, had the nations we admire, possessed so au- thentick a source of history. The Romans have been shown by a recent French writer,* to have had their journals ; but these did not, like ours, chronicle the wishes and feelings, the hopes and the vices, of the many; else we should not eternally deplore lost de- cades, or incur danger of having our early faith con- troverted by the ingenuity of a Niehbuhr. James Rivington was, then, the editorial and pro- prietary publisher of the " New York Gazette," and as the opposite party subsided in the expression of its political sentiments, and loyalism was no long- er in terrour of a Sears, he not only gave free vent to his own views, but so far forgot himself, as sadly to abuse those of his radical neighbours. Emboldened by their quiet reception of his denunciations, he ex- pressed these in still more forcible tones, and doubt- less exulted in this victory over whig opinions. It was high noon, on Thursday the twenty-third of November. The Gazette had been issued that morning, and the worthy editor was seated in his cabinet, exanuning the new-born sheet, just like any gentleman of the press of our day, when the sound of hoofs on the pavement beneath, drew his attention to the window. Looking out into the street, he be- held with dismay, his old enemy. King Sears, at the head of an armed troop of horsemen, drawn up be- fore his door. The men and their leader dismounted with the utmost deliberation, and a part of them en- tered the printer's abode. A few moments after, he saw his beloved printing-press cast into the street, and heard the tumult raised in the compositors' room above him, by those engaged in the work of demoli- tion. To his despair, the materials thrown upon the pavement were speedily transferred to the dock, and M. Victor Leclerc. 164 he invaders sallied forth with many a pound of I he induced Congress to take Us jurisdiction out of precious types in iheir pockets and handkerchiefs. A large crowd, collected by so unusual an event, stooil aloof, quiet spectators of the scene. The cav- aliers reniduiited their steeds, and rode off toward Connecticut, whence they came, and where, as was subseiiueutly ascertained, the offending types were melted down to bullets. Thus liberty assailed the freedom of the press, and the balls whiloine cast with joy into types reassumed their pristine shape and destination ; the ploughshare was reconverted to the sword. Although no opposition was offered to these pro- ceedings, by the body of citizens assembled near Rivingioii's door, there stood upon a neighbouring stoop, a lad of eighteen years of age, with an eye ol fire, and an angry arm, haranguing the multitude in a tone of earnest eloquence. He urged that order should be preserved ; appealing warmly to the dig- nity of citizenship, " which," said he, " should not brook an encroachment of unlicensed troops from another colony," and offering to join in checking the iutruders' progre.ss. The sins of Rivington could not be forgiven ; but the youthful orator was listened to with respectful deference by that crowd which already recogni.sed the genius and fervour of Alicx- ANDER H.^MII.TON'. On the following Thursday, no Gazette appeared, whether on this account, or because the town digni- taries were rrally incensed, this typographicnl exe- cution created much sensation in the province. Fancying it a trtuni)ling on their aulharity, and a re- proach to their vigilance, the New York Congress complained to (ioveriiiiur Trumbull of Ccninecticut ; and, dtinandiug a restitution of the abducted types, they observed that the present contest ought not to be sullied by an attempt to restrain the liberty of the press. We shall not pause to weigh tho political considerations involved in this inter-colouial dispute, which may have been the first respecting state rights. While New York artd Connecticut were at issue, poor Rivington went off to England, and there the matter ended. This event was deemed worthy the attention of Congress, and seemed of sufiicient im- portance to l)e laid before the reader. It is, more- over, the only remarkable incident which preceded the arrival of General Charles Lee in New York. Early in 1776, this brave but headstrong officer, begged to be despatched from Boston to Connecti- cut for the purpose of raising volunteers, and of re- inforcing the New Jersey and New York battalions under his command. With Governour Trumbull's aiil, (ieneral Lee succeeded in levying twelve hun- dred men among the zealous inhabitants of that sjjir- iled province, and reached New York with his re- cruits (m the tourtli of February. He was met on the frontier by the earnest entreaty of the committee of safety, who exercised the powers of government during the recess of our Provincial Congress, that he should pause upon the borders of Connecticut. Captain Parker, of the Asia man-of-war, had mena- ced the town with destruction, should it be entered by any large body of provincials. Undismayed by these threats, and disregarding the prayer of tho timid cor|ioratiou, Lee crossed the confines. Lntne- diately after his arrival, conscious of the designs of the British in this vital quarter, and of the need of entire harmony between himself and the local authorities, the hands of these officers, and to detach from their own body, a committee of three, who, with the coun- cil and himself, were to confer upon a plan of de- fence. His orders were to fortify the town, to dis- arm all persims unfriendly to the American cause, and especially to watch and counteract the move- ments of a band of lories, assembled on Long Island " serpents," says he, in his characteristick manner, " which it would be ruinous not to crush before their rattles are grown." This duty we may fancy him to have undertaken with peculiar satisfaction. The operations of these lories and of Governour Tryon, their Coryphius, would prove an interesting theme of research. It may be remarked, eii passant, that though the city of New York was stained in those days by strong imputations of toryism, the stigma was unjust. In mixtures of colours, it requires but little of a darker hue to deepen the brightest teints ; and General Lee found the majority " as well affect- ed as any on the continent." During the short period of his stay, this officer's proceedings were extremely active. His intended fortifications were projected on a comprehensive scale. With an intelligent eye, he embraced the extensive localities to be defended, and detected their vulnerable points. A redoubt and battery at Hellgale were destined to prevent ihe passage of the enemy's ships to and fro in the Sound. Similar works were contemplated on the North river, and the oppugnable portions of the town were refoimed and strengthened. Long Island was too important a field to escajie his vigilance ; and he fixed, fur the location of an entrenched camp, upon the very spot which subsequentlv became the scene of conflict. It were presumptuous, nay, useless, to attempt to picture New York as she then was, when so many readers, far more vividly than the writer, realize from memory tho vast alterations less than half a century has produced in the metropolis of the new world. On the walls of the New York Historical Society rooms, hang various interesting maps, whereby some idea may be formed of those ancient features and • dimensions, from which, to the present magnitude of our city, the transition is as unparalleled as it seems incredible. The old Knickerbocker town is laid down on one map as it existed under the Stuyvesant dominion. In another may be found the Iviglish city, before and after that disastrous fire, of which the ravages are delineated in a separate drawing, by an ancient eye-witness. General Lee's letters rep- resent military operations not easily traced upon the transformed surface. Broadway was barricaded twd hundred vards in the rear of the dismantled fort, and all the streets leading to it were to be defended by barriers. He speaks, too, of erecting batteries on an eminence, behind Trinity church, to picture which to one's self, at the present day, requires no little stretch of the imagination. I know not whether these local changes may in- terest the reader, but to me they seem truthful illus- trations of our fleeting destiny. Cities are the thea- tres of nations, where the busy throng enact an end- less and varying drama, full of life and of reality. And, let me ask, what object can fill with a lonelier sense of desolation the wanderer beneath the stmnjr skies of Greece, or moon-illumined heaven of Italy, than the crumbling walls, the deserted benches, the 165 voiceless echoes of the theatre, where the living im- personations of the poet's fancy were once deified by the enthusiasm of the crowd ? When the ruins of an old city become in turn the foundations of a new one, the pilu;riin vainly seeks the traces of the past, and the lesson becomes still more impressive. Monuments commemorale the peaceful traditions, and ruins the wars, of the old world. Surrounded by the vestiges of the past, its memories dwell in the European's thoughts. A tutored fancy evokes at will, from the tower and the column, the shades of the departed, and history may be realized, not in its events only, but in all its pomp and studied detail, its costume and its court. An unbroken chain, now of golden now of iron links ; here bright, there rusted ; here jeweled, and there blood-stained ; connects to- day with distant centuries. In Cologne, the mind is transported back a thousand years, in Rome, two thousand. The edifices which tune hallows, in lieu of destroying, are the only monuments of this new- born land. The British General Clinton entered New York simultaneously with General Lee. Unaccompanied by any force, he declared to the latter that he had only come to pay his friend Tryon a visit ; of which Lee remarks, in a letter to the commander-in-chief, " if really the case, it was the most whimsical piece of civilily he ever heard of." It was the subsequent fortune of these generals to meet in Virginia and in North Carolina. The American officer's turn for the humorous, was displayed by his giving our old friend King Sears, when sent into Connecticut to beat up re- cruils, the title of " adjutant-general ;" a promotion with which, he jocosely wrote Washington, the rough patriot " was much tickled ; it added spurs to his hat." For all nominal distinctions, General Lee entertained unequivocal contempt, and declared that ratsbane were far pleasanter to his moutli, than the appellation of " Excellency" he was daily compelled to swallow. On the seventh of March, he departed for the South, where laurels awaited him among the orange flowers of spring. Lord Stirling was left in command, and the contemplated works were after- ward but slowly and partially completed. The town of Boston was evacuated on the seven- teenth of March, by the British, who put to sea for Halifax. Crowned with this signal triumph. Gen- eral Washington arrived at New York on the four- teenth of April, with the American army, which, to use his own expression, " had maintained their ground against the enemy, under a want of powder; had disbanded one army, and recruited another, with- in musket-shot of two-and-twenty regiments, the flower of the British force ; and at last beaten them into a shameful and precipitate retreat, out of the strongest place on the continent, fortified at an enor- mous expense." On the twenty-third of May, the commander-in- chief found himself at Philadelphia, in conference with congress, who had summoned him thither, to devise remedies for the disastrous state of affairs in Canada. It was there determined to defend New York, and the requisite men and supplies were placed athisdisposal. Returning tothe city, after an absence of fifteen days, he found great disafioction among certain of the inhabitants. This was nourished by Governour Tryon, who, from hia vessel at the Hook, despatched emissaries in every direction. A deep plot, of his contriving, was only defeated by a time- ly discovery. His agents had .so far pushed their temerity, as to corrupt not only many in the Ameri- can camp, but even some of the general's guard, a soldier in which, was found guilty, and shot. The object of this conspiracy was to make Washington a prisoner. To secure Quebec, and redeem Canada, on the one hand, to make a powerlid impression in the South on the other, and finally, to possess themselves of New York, proved to be the designs of the Brit- ish, during this campaign. A part of their fleet from Halifax arrived oft' Sandy Hook on the twenty- eighth of June. The remainder followed within a week, and General Howe established his headquar- ters at Slaten Island. In presence i<{ a powerful enemy, gathering forces at the very door of tlie city, the troops were sumtnoned to parade at six o'clock, one bright afternoon in early July. The British fleet lay in sight, and the assembled regiments knew not whether they were called together to attack or to repel. It was a fitting time and [ilace for the procla- mation of that glorious document, each word ol which, well befitting a great nation speaking for it- self, found an echo in every heart that beat there — the Declaratio.n' of I.ndependence. I can con- ceive the beams of that setting sun to have met a rival glow in the rudily cheeks to which the warm blood mantled, under the inspiring words of liberty, drank in by willing ears. As the address ended, a shout of approbation rent the air. It was not the wild crv of a senseless mob on a holyday, but the voice of deterininatioit, which, to the close of that war, was the key-note of freedom. This event, which transmuted into free states, the dependant colony and province, rolls up the curtnin from before the dramatick portion of my story. The arrival of Lord Howe from England, on the twelltli of July, and the daily reinforcements of the British fleet, from that period, justified expectations of a sudden assault. Preparations were continued under General Putnam, for the defence of the city, and General Greene was on Long Island, superintend- ing the erection of a chain of works, to fortify it against the enemy's approach. About this time, several of the British vessels, under a favourable breeze, ran by the New York batteries, uninjured by their fire, and much to the surprise of the Ameri- cans. On the eighth of August, General Washington wrote, that for the several posts on New York, Long Island, Governour's Island, and Paulus Hook, he had but thirteen thousand five hundred and fifty-seven efiective men, and that to repel an immediate attack, he could count upon no other addition to his num- bers, than a battalion from Maryland, under Colonel Smallwood. Opposed to him was the entire British force, united at Sandy Hook, by the middle of the month, consisting of twenty-four thousand men, combined with a fleet of more than one hundred and thirty vessels, ninety-six of which came in from the twellth to the thirteenth. Let the reader remember, that this armada was afloat off Sandy Hook, between the Heights of Neversink and Staten Island. And who, on calling to mind this event, and reflecting that, but yesterday, after a lapse of sixty-two years, a proud steamer was sent from England to this very IfiG city, then doomed to the fate of Carthage, now the inalienable ally of her furmer enemy, will deny thai the growth of events maturing nations, is a wondrous characteristick of the age ; a token that in measure as it learns to ameliorate its condition, humanity is destined to cover the earth like the forest tree ; and fhat we do not, mayliap, sufficiently regard these in- timations of a mighty future. The details of war were rapidly advancing in the city, on which the eyes of the nation were intensely lixed. Lead being scarce, the zealous burghers gave the troops their window-weights for bullets. Of these, one house alone contributed twelve hundred and another one thousand pounds weight ; and I doubt not, had bow-strings been in request, our patri- otick countrywomen would have hastened, like the Carthaginians of old, to olTer up their longest Iresses in the service of freedom. As the crisis drew near, the unseen anxiety of the commander-in-chief be- came redoubled bi'ueath his clear eye and serene brow. He was everywhere, knowing no repose, the indefatigable guardian of the spirit of liberty. Already was the army in possession of that mem- orable address, so fervently breathed by the great commander, while awaiting the attack: " 'I'he lime is now near at hand, which must probably determine whether Americans are to be freemen or slaves ; whether they are to have any property they can call their own ; whether their houses and farms are to be pillaged and destroyed, and they confined to a stale of wretchedness from which no human efforts will probably deliver them. The fate of unborn millions will now depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this army. We have therefore to re- solve to conquer or die I" At this juncture. General Greene unhappily fell sick of a fever, and the important station on Lojig Island was inlrusled to General Sullivan. It is im- possible to compare the aims and prospects of the rival forces, at this period, without feeling how daring was the gallantry of ihe Americans, in venturing so fearlessly upon ihe unequal contest. The long-expected hour of attack arrived on the twenty-second of August, when intelligence was re- ceived of the landing of the British on Long Island. The report of their signal repulse at Fort Moultrie, by the Americans under General Lee, reached our camp on the preceding night, ami was urged hv Washington as an incentive to as proud exertions on the coining occasion. By the twenty-sixth, the British troops extended from the coast between Graveseiid and Utrecht, to Flalbush and Flatlands ; Colonel Hand's reyiinent retiring before them. General Sullivan was super- seded in his command on the Island by General Put- nam, and matters rapidly approached a deiwurmint. The accompanying ens;raMng is a sketch of ihe American lines at Brooklyn, and of the adjacent grounds on which the battle was fought. On reiich- ing ihe encampment, of which he was so hastily placed in command. General Putnam found ihc American posiii(ni secured by an inner and an outer line of enlreiichTiients. 'J'lie former was protected bv a strong position upon an eminence, near the Wallahoiit bay, now called Fort Greene. The only approach to it was across an isthmus, formed on one side by the bay and contiguous swamp, and on llie Other, by a creek, running in from Gowanus Cove, wiih an impassable marsh on either side of it. This neck of lanil had been skilfully taken advantage of by General Greene, and was perfectly defended by the enlrencliments in ils rear. The enemy were ex- (lected in three directions ; along the coast, by the Flalbush road, and by the road which led from Flat bush to Bedford. To face them in these quarters, an outer line of works had been organized. A chain of picquets, extending from Yellow Hook round to Flalbush, were stationed from eminence to eminence, to give timely warning of their approach ; and the avenues were guarded by temporary breast-works, defending the main passes. Thus far, General Put- nam adopted the defensive measures of General Greene, and these precautiinis proved successful, in the points they were designed to protect. From an attack of the enemy's ships at the Nar- rows, the American rear was also guarded by effi- cient batteries at Red Hook, and on Governour's Island. General Sullivan had in charge the whole line of outer works, and was joined by Col. Hand, on his withdrawal from ihe coast, at the landing of the British, and by Colonels Williams and Miles, with their respective regiments. Such was the position of the Americans ; their numbers not exceeding eight thousand eight hundred men. Their adversaries, after landing on the twenty- second, parted in three divisions. The right wing, under Lord Coriiwallis and Earl Percy, extended, on the twenty-sixth instant, from Flalbush, toward Flatlands, about two miles in the rear. The centre, composed of the Hessians under General de Heis- ter, was posted at Flalbush, and the left wing,on the coast, was commanded by General C!rant. The centre was about four, and the right and left wings nearly six miles distant each fnnii the American camp. A chain of thickly-wooded hills, called the Heights of Gowanus, and extending eastward lo the extremity of the island, lay between the two ar- mies. The commander-in-chief passed the whole day of the twenty-sixth at Brooklyn, jireparing for the ex- pected assault. On the eve of this ilie first pitched battle of the war, his heart was full of anxiety. Con- soled by the conviction that evervlhiiig in his power had been done to strengthen the American forces, he relied now upon Providence, npiui ihe justice ol the cause, and iijion their bravery. Toward the close of the day, he returned to New York. On that afternoon, a spectator, to whom the inte- riour of both camps could have been revealed, might have drawn a touching and interesting comparison. On one side, the hardened veteran ; opposed to him, the ingenuous recruit ; contrasted wuh the martial costume of the British, ihe worn and homely gar- ments of the conlinentals : with ihe park of burnish- ed artillery, a few caimon benight wiih blood ; with polished arms and accouirements, the long-rusted gun and sabre, lorn down from the cliimiiey-piece to answer a country's call. Among the British, a proud and conscitiMe, a town on the coast of East Florida. She was taken, md 15,000 pounds of powder were carried to Charleston. In North Carolina, the provincial congress raised 1,000 regular militia, and 3,000 minute men. The English governor, Martin, disliked the appearance of things, and endeavored to muster a force of the Irish and Scotch part of the inhahitant.s. He also fortified his own house, at Newbern, with artillery. The people seized upon his cannon ; and lie fled to a fort upon Cape Fear river. The provincials marched after him, led on by colonel Ashe. He retreated on board a vessel, as the other governors had done. Colonel Ashe burnt the fort to ashes the snme night. The assembly declared the governor a traitor. He answered them in a very long letter, which they ordered to be burnt by the common hangman. A large quantity of balls and powder was found in his cellar and gardens at New- bern. The British Generals had contemplated various methods of subduing the southern provinces, in the hope of making a permanent lodgment in the bosom of the country. The strong resistance which they met in the interior, however, convinced them that an attempt to invade the country, without going to work thoroughly and systematically, was totally impracti- cable. They therefore determined to make an attack upon the city of Charleston, in South Carolina. Admiral Parker and general Clinton reached Charleston harbor on the 28th of June, and, with eleven large vessels of war, commenced a tremendous attack upon fort Moultrie. This stood upon Sulli- van's Island, six miles from the city, and was built of a kind of wood called palmetto, so spongy and soft that the balls w-ere buried in it, and no splinters were thrown off. The fort was defended by sixty pieces of cannon. Ship after ship poured in their tremendous broad- sides. The whole harbour seemed to be but a sheet of flame. The Americans aimed well, and every shot had its effect. Some of the English vessels were soon stranded. The Thunder, after firing more than sixty bombs, was disabled. The Bristol was almost destroyed, and a great number of men were killed. The fire of the fort suddenly stopped. Their pow- der was exhausted. The enemy thought themselves sure of the victory, and the ships moved nearer, with their flags flying and their drums beating. But the Americans were soon supplied from the shore, and the battle lasted, hotter than ever, till seven in the evening. The English drew off in the night, and the enterprise was abandoned. This defence of Fort Moultrie was one of the most gallant actions of the war. Every man and every nflicer fought like a hero. Congress voted their thanks to the whole garrison, and to several of the officers by name. A sword was presented to a sergeant of grenadiers, named Jasper. In the heat of the battle, the staff of the fort fl;ig had been cut down by a ball. Jasper sprang after it, fast- ened it to the rammer of a cannon, and hoisted it again, amid the fire of the enemy. The British had, however, gained possession of many portions of the southern provinces, particularly of Georgia. The British general, Prevosi, had pos- session of Savannah. He was besieged by general Lincoln in 1779, but Lincoln failed of success, and was obliged to relinquish the siege. Prevost ravaged the country, burning and plundering without mercy. He met, however, much brave and determined re- sistani;e, and many interesting anecdotes are related of the most daring and chivalrous deeds on the part of some of the provincials. But notwithstanding the repeated instances of bra- very, and the activity and cunning of the hardy bands that arose every where in the south, the British over- run Georgia and the two Carolinas. They had suc- ceeded in taking Charleston on the llth of May, 1780, after a long siege, and a brave defence by gen- eral Lincoln. This way then was opened to ravage the country. Their course was marked with savaye barbarity and cruelty, and a reckless waste of prop- erty. They not only sacked every village, but burnt every house; destroyed the crops and drove awaj the catde ; not content with pillaging houses and rob- bing individuals of their property, " grasping for gold, they went rummaging amongst the tombs." But their inhuman revelry was not of long continuance. Soon after Charleston was taken, general Gates was sent to take command of the southern army. He was joined by hundreds of the Carolina militia. Con- gress sent him some fine Maryland and Delaware troops also. They had a very long and hard march through the woods, finding nothing to eat on the way. but peaches and green corn, with now and then a flock of wild turkeys, or a drove of wild hogs. But they were brave men, and did not murmur. They even joked each other on account of their thin faces, and lank legs. A battle took place on the 16th of August, near Camden, South Carolina, between Gates and the British under lord Cornwallis. The former was de- feated, and fled eighty miles into the back country. The lean, northern soldiers, we have just mentioned, fought nobly an hour after all the rest had been routed like an arniv of rotten sheep. The brave Baron de Kalb was wounded in eleven places. He fell from his horse, and died in the hands of the British. He was a Frenchman, and sent his compliments, in his last moments, to his "gallant Maryland and Delaware soldiers." Generals Marion and Sumpter gave the British great trouble during this campaign. Small parties of the mountain militia joined them, and they swept down upon the enemy, wherever they could find them in small parties. The farmers' wives furnished them pewter spoons and platters, to make into bul- lets ; and they forged swords of scythes and the saws of sawmills. In October, sixteen hundred of these mountaineers mustered together to attack a British force under ma- jor Ferguson, who had encamped not far from the mountains. For weeks, they h;id no salt, bread, or spirits ; they slept upon houghs of trees, without blankets, drank only from the running streams, and lived upon wild game, or cars of corn, and pumpkins, roasted by their great log fires in the woods. They were to assault Ferguson in three parties, and colonel Cleaveland addressed his party in these words : — " My brave boys, we have beat the red- 176 coats and the tories, and we can beat them again. Thny ;ire all co "arils. You must fight, each man for himsrif, without orders. Fire as quick as you can, and siand as long as you can. If you must retreat, get behind ihe trees — don't run. my fine fellows, don't run !" ■■ Hiirrali lor the mountaineers !" cried they, and rushed down upon the enemy. The Americans were driven back at the point of the bayduet; but they only lay down among the logs and rocks, and being sharp shooters, killed more than two luindrcd of the enemy. Ferguson was killed himself, and eiffht hundred of his soldiers surrendered. Ten of the most savage tories, notorious rascals, were hung up on the neighboring trees. With the year 1781, the war drew rapidly toward a close. It was carried on almost entirely in the southern provinces. General Greene was appointed to (^oinniand the American forces in that quarter. At the time of his arrival, they were a miserable, half- starved militia, of three thousand men. They mark- ed the frozen ground wilh the blood of their bare feel, and lived half tlieir lime upon frogs, taken frmn the swamps, wild game, rice, and wretchedly lean cattle. I5ut they were soon reinforced ; and small parlies, under bumpier, Marion, Moroan and others, often annoved the forces of Coruwallis. Colonel Washing- ton laid siege to a strong blockhouse near Camden, defended by a British colonel and a hundred tories. He had no cannon, and few men; but he carved (uit a few pine logs in the shape of cannon, mounted them on wheels, and summoned the tories to surren- der. They were frightened at the appearance of his big cannon, and surrendered. Not a shot was fired uj)iiii either side. On the 17tli of January, colonel Morgan, with eight hundred militia, was attacked at a place called the Cowpens, in South Carolina, by Tarlton, a fa- mous British ofTiccr, with eleven hunilred men, and two cannon. The enemy rushed on with a tremen- dous shout. The front line of militia were driven back. Tarleton pursued tliem, at full gdlop, with his troopers, and fell upon the second line. They too were giving way. At this moment, colonel W'asliington cbarijed Tarle- ton with forty-five militiamen, mounted and arnied as troopers. The whole line now rallied under colonel Howard, and advanced with fixed bayonets. The British fled. Their cannon were lelt behind; three hundred British soldiers were killed and wounded, anil five hundred were taken prisoners ; eight hundred muskets, seventy negroes, and one hundred dragoon horses also fell into the hands of the Americans. Ma- ny British ofiicers were killed. Morgan always told his sharp-shooters "lo aim at the epaulettes, and not at the poor rascals who fonghl for sixpence ailay." General Greene was now driven back, by Corn- wallis, into North ('arolina. The latter pursued him throuffli the province, over mountains and swamps, and arrived attbe river Dan, just as Greene had cross- ed it. Cornwallis now found it necessarv lo turn about; and so he marched back, and Greene soon fol- lowed him with new forces. Simipter joined him at Orangeburg, having receiv- ed orders to do so during his hasty retreat before the ' enemy. It seems Greene could find no man in his army who would carry the message to Sninpter. A country girl, named Einily Geiger, at last oflered her services, and was sent. She was taken by the British, and confined for the purpose of being searched. She, however, ate up the letter which she carried, piece by ! piece. They released her, to go home, as thev sup- posed ; hut she took a roundabout way, reached Sump- ler's camp safely, and delivered her message, in her own words. I The Americans were defeated near Guilford court- house on the 15lh of March. But Cornwallis retreat- ed soon after. He had suffered great loss, and his army was small. A mililia colonel cried out in this battle, as the British were marching up, " Tlicv will surround us." He was frightened himself, and friirbt- ened liis soldiers so much, that they gave way while the enemy was one hundred and forty yards distant. Colonel Washington, at the head of his tmopers, nearly captured Cornwallis in this battle. He was just rushing upon the British general, when his cap fell from his head. As he leaped to the ground for it, the leading American officer behind him was shot through the body, and rendered unable to manage his horse. The animal wheeled round, and galloped ofT j wilh his rider ; and the troop, supposing it was Wash- ington's order, wheeled about also, and rode off' at full speed. Fort Watson, between Camden and Charleston, surrendered in April, with 114 men, to generil Ma- rion. The fort was built on a mound of earth thirty feet hii;h ; but Marion, with his mountaineers, bad raised a work which overlooked it in such a manner, that not a man in the fort could show his head over the parapets, or scarr.-ely point his musket through a hole in the walls, but the riflemen above would shoot him. Greene was again defeated at Camden, on the 25lh of April, by nine hundred English under lord Raw don. But in a month or two, the Bntish lost six fiirts, and that of Augusta was among them. Here there were three hundred men. as a garrison, almost buried themselves under ground, while the Americans were building up batteries within thirty yards, which swept the fort through and through. Greene and all his officers, and all his men, fought nobly ihe whole sea- son. " I will recover the province," said the general, "or die in the attempt." It is remarkable, that al- though his force was much inferior to that of Corn- ' wallis, and though he was frequently defeated, yet. by his admirable manoeuvres, the result of the campaign was entirely favorable to the Americans, and injurious to the British. Greene attacked the enemy atEutaw Springs, Sep- tember 8th, and completely defeated them, killing and capturing eleven hundred of their best soldiers. In pursuing the enemy, (uie Manning found himself sur- rounded by them. He seized upon a small British officer; and being himself a stout man, placed him upon his shoulders and retreated, the English not dar- ing to fire at him. The little officer was horribly frightened, but Manning took good care of him. The war was closed by the capture of Cornwallis, at Yorktown, on York river, Virginia. 177 REVOLUTIONARY BATTLES ILLUSTRATED. CAPTURE OF BURGOYNE, AT SARATOGA. Wo know of no series of events to be found in the history of our Revolution, more higiily fraught with interest than those that vrere attendant upon the effort of Gen. Burgoyne to penetrate from the Canadas to the city of Albany. To conjoin the greater portion of the British army in the interiour of New York, by opening a way from New York city on one side, and from Canada on the other, while another portion was harassing the South, had for a long time been the favourite plan of the British ministry. They looked upon the victorious result of this enterprise as a final blow to the war. 23 General Burgoyne, an officer of undoubted ability, and possessed of an exact knowledge of the country, was appointed to conduct the operations of the north- em army. He was a man of genius and spirit, and of fiery ambition, which led the English ministry to place so great confidence in him. Having arrived in Quebec with his commission in May, 1777, he im- mediately displayed great activity in making those preparations which were necessary to the success of an enterprise which was to decide the fate of America. The regular force placed at his disposal, consisting of British and German troops, amounted to upwards of seven thousand men, exclusive of a corps o{ artillery composed of about five hundred. 178 To these was added a detachment of seven hundred rangers, under Colonel St. Leger, destined to make an incursion into the country of the Mohawks, and to seize Fort Stanwix. Arcording to the plan, the principal ariiiv of Burgoyne was to be joined by two thousand Canadians, including hatchct-inen, and other workmen whose services were necessary to render the ways practicable. A suflicient number of seamen had been assembled, for manning the Iraus- porus. Besides the Canadians that were to be im- mediately attached to the army, many others were ca led upon lo scour the woods in the frontiers, and to occupy the intermediate parts between the army, which advanced towards the Hudson, and that which remained for the protection of Canada; the latter auiounled, including the highland emigrants, to up- wards of three thousand men. They were furnished by the sanguine ministry with a lib:Tal profusion of provisions, military stores, and other conveniences, amongst which was also comprehended a large quantity of uniforms, destined for the loyalists, who, it was not doubted, would after victory f!ock from all quarters to the royal camp. A great number of cruel and intractable savages were also added to their num- bers, through the influence of Governor Carlcton. Bursrnvne was seconded by many able and e.\cellent othcers ; among whom we may number major-gen- eral Phillips, the brigadier-generals Frazer, Powel, llamillou, and Specht, w-iih the Brunswick major- general Baron Reidesel. The whole army shared in the ardour and hopes of its chiefs, and not a doubt was entertained of an approaching triumph, and the conquest of America. The first movement of Burgovne was to encamp near the Utile river Bouquet, on the western bank of Lake Champlain, a short distance north of Crown Point. Here he made addresses to the Indians to repress their ferocious propensities, and sent procla- mations into the country to intimidate the people. He next made a short stop al Crown Point, and then proceeded to invest Ticondernga. The right wing took the western bank of the lake, the left advanced upon the eastern, and the centre was embarked upon the lake itself. The American armv, destined to oppose the prosress of the royal troops, and to de- fend Ticonderoga, was altogether insufficient. Cen- eral Schuyler, who commanded tlie .\merican troops in this quarter, had been disappointed in procuring reinforcements, ami his force did not amount to over five thousand men. Ticcmderoga was very stronfflv fortified on every side, and its defence was inlrnsled to General St. Clair, with a garrison of three thousand men ; one third of them were militia, and all illy equipped. Allhongh Gen. St. Clair used all his exertions to re- tard lh(' operations of the advancinor enemy, yet in a few (lavs ihev succeeded in getting possession of Mount Hope and Mount Defiance, two very impovlant positions, one of which commanded the American lines to a dangerous deijree, and the other overlook- ed the entire fort. Ticonderoga beinij thus easily hemmed in on every side, a council of officers con- cluded to evacuate the fort. They accordingly with- drew on the niuht of the fifth of .Tulv. All was done in good order and profound silence, and the stores, artillery and provisions were put on board two hun- dred batteaux and five armed galleys. They would orobably have escaped unperceived by the British had not a house caught fire on Mount Independence, which betrayed by its light all that had taken place. The Americans were immediately pursued; and by the next afternoon their boats weie overtaken and at- tacked at Skenesboro' falls. Two of the American galleys surrendered ; three were blown up ; and after setting fire to their works, mills, and batteaux, that portion of the army escaped up Wood Creek, to Fort Ann. The vanguard of the corps that set out by land, under St. Clair, had arrived at Castleton; the rear had rested at Huhbardston, when it was over- taken and attacked by General Frazer, on the morn- ing of the seventh. An obstinate battle ensued, which at length, after Reidesel came up, resulted in dispers- ing the Americans, who left many of their soldiers, together with their brave commander. Col. Francis, dead on the field. St. Clair after hearing this news, struck itito the v/oods in an eastern direction. The English generals next resolved to drive the Americans from Fort Ann. After a sanguinary com- bat they finally succeeded in this, by bringing sud- denly to their aid their savage allies. The Ameri- cans set the fort on fire, and retired to Fort Edward, where General Schuyler had posted himself. On the twelfth, St. Clair also arrived there with the re- mains of the garrison of Ticonderoga. This it was expected would be the next point of attack. But Burgoyne was detained at Skenesboro' by want of provisions and stores. Gen. Schuyler took advan- tage of this delay, and neglected no means to procure recruits and to impede the progress of the enemy. The British succeeded in obtaining possession of Fort George, and with much difficulty their army at- tained the banks of the Hudson near Fort Edward. The Americans moved down to Stillwater. Bur- goyne soon experienced a great deprivation of pro- visions. While Col. St. Leger was investing Fort Stanwix, on the Mohawk, he detached five hu dred soldiers and Indians to procure catde at Bennington. To favour this expedition he moved his army down to the bank opposite Saratoga. A company of pro- vincials had assembled from difTerent quarters at Ben- nington, and were under the command of Col. Stark. They met the enemy on the borders of the town, and after an obstinate contest bravely repulsed them; the British, however, were again strengthened by a new detachment that again attacked the Americans; vic- tory however declared for the latter, and the former lost seven hundred men and all their baggage. Hut at this lime. General Herkimer, who marched to the relief of Col. Ganzevort at Fort Stanwix, was ambushed by the savages, who dispersed his corps with most frightful carnage. The Indians grew dis- affected, however, soon, and the British were obliged to raise the siege and retreat. These sticcesses of the Americans at Stanwix and Bennington, inspired them with new confidence. The harvests were ended, and the country people toiik arms in multitudes, and hastened to the camp elated wih the expectation of vanquishing the vaunt- ing regulars of the king. Gen. Gates, a man of great military renown, was appointed to the com- mand of the army, which also gave a new spur to their alacrity. They were also excited by the inhu- man cruelties of the savages under St. Leger and Burgoyne ; the affecting death of Miss M'Crca, which was also fresh in their minds, exasperated them to the extreme. The savages deserted Burgoyne, and 179 the Canadians were frightened to their homes by the sinister aspect of affairs. Gen. Lincoln, with a strong corps of New Hampshire and Connecticut militia, assisted by Colonels Brown and Johnston, with great secrecy and celerity obtained repossession of Forts Edward, Ann, and George, Mount Hope, and Mount Defiance. Gen. Burgoyne having amassed about thirty days' provisions, resolved to pass the Hudson, engage the American army, and force a passage to Albany. Towards the middle of September, he crossed the river, and encamped on the heights and plains of Saratoga, Gates being then near Stillwater. Bur- goyne had now to rely, almost entirely, on his Ger- man and British regular troops, and a battle was soon expected. This was reserved for the nineteenth of September, and the question was to be decided, whether the Americans could resist the English up- on equal ground, in fair and regular baltle. Some small wood^ only separating the two armies, tliey were early on the nineteenth formed in the order of battle. The right wing of the British army rested upon the high grounds, and the left wing and artil- lery, under Phillips and Reidesel, kept along the road and meadows by, the river side. Gates took the right of the American army, and gave the left to Arnold. Smart skirmishes immediately ensued be- tween the foremost marksmen of either party, and the two soon met. General Frazer repulsed the Americans. Finding the right Hank of the enemy's right wing so well defended, they left a sufficient guard to defend this passage, made a rapid move- ment to their right, and vigorously assailed the left flank of the same M'ing. Arnold exhibited upon this occasion all the impetuosity of his courage; he en- couraged his men with voice and example. The action became extremely warm ; the enemy fearing tliat Arnold, by cutting their line, would penetrate between their wings, as was manifestly his intention, hastened to reinforce the points attacked. General Frazer caine up with the twenty-fourth regiment, some light infantry, and Brevman's riflemen: he would have drawn more troops from the right flank, but the heights on which it was posted, were of too great importance to be totally evacuated. Mean- while, such was the valour and impetuosity of the Americans, that the English began to fall into con- fusion; but General Phillips soon appeared with fresh men and a part of the artillery : upon hearing the firing he had rapidly made his way through a verv difficult wood to the scene of danger. He restored the action at the very moment it was about to be decided in favour of the Americans. The latter, however, renewed their attacks with such persever- ing energy, that night only parted the combatants. After this battle, Bursoyne waited nearly a month to hear from General Clinton. At length he received intelligence, but it was of such a nature as only to increase his disappointments and render his situation more hopeless. Driven to extremity, he resolved to make another effort to force a passage to Albany by the enemy's left. In this he utterly failed, and his troops were driven back to their intrenchments, and pursued with eajerness and great loss even to their camp. The Americans had now acquired an open- ing on the right and rear of the British army, whose situation was therefore rendered very perilous. Bur- goyne operated a change of ground. But Gen. Gates had taken ihe precaution to station strong divisions on almost every side, to prevent the enemy's escape. Burgoyne retired to Saratoga, but so miseralile v.'as the condition of his army that it occupied nearly two days to effect this small movement of six miles. He left his hospital in the hands of the Americans. He now hoped to cross the river at Saratoga, and retreat to the lakes to save his army. But he soon found that Fort Edward, on the opposite bank, was too strongly manned to attempt to effect it. He then turned his attention to Fort George, in hopes of crossing there; but he soon learned that the Amer- icans were strongly intrenched in that direction also. General Gates, with the main body of the army, thirsting for batde, was in his rear. In this state of affairs he relinquished all hopes of saving himself by his own efforts. His only refuge from despair was the faint hope of co-operation from the parts down the river; and he looked for the aid of Clinton with the most intense desire. His army was in a pitiable condition. Worn out, abandoned, half their number slaughtered, and amongst them the most distinguished oflicers ; reduced in numbers from ten thousand to five thousand, and invested by an army of four times their own number, who refused to fight from a know- ledge of their helpless condition, and who, from the nature of the ground, could not be attacked. But Burgoyne's troops, even while the rifle and grape nhot fell thickly around them in this forlorn state, '•elained their ordinary constancy, and while siidiing under a hard necessity, showed themselves worthy of a better fate. They betrayed no want of temper, or of fortitude. The British army had but three day's provisions — po succour came — no hope remained. A capitula- tion was concluded upon. Gen. Gates, while he acted in the matter with moderation, also acted with decision. He left but one alternative for the British Sfeneral — he must either sign the articles or prepare for battle. On this day, the seventeenth of October, the American armv amounted to fifteen thousand men ; the Englisli to five thousand, seven hundred and nine- ty-one. The articles were signed, and they were principally these : — The army should march out of camp with all the honours of war and its camp artillery, to a fixed place, where they were to deposit their arms and leave the artillery. To be allowed free embarkation and pas- sage to Europe, from Boston, tipon condition of their not serving again in America, during the present war The army not to be separated, particularly the men from the oflicers. Roll-calling, and other duties of regularity to be permitted. 'I'he officers to be ad- milted on parole, and to wear their side arms. All private property to be retained, and the public de- livered upon honour. No baggage to be searched or molested. All persons, of whatever country, apper- taining to, and following the camp, to be fully com- prehended in the terms of capitulation, and the Cana- dians to be returned to their own country, liable to its provisions. Gen. Gates ordered his troops to retire within their lines, that they might not witness the shame of the English, when they piled iheir arms. Such was the fate of the British expedition upon the Hudson. 180 REVOLUTIONARY BATTLES ILLUSTRATED. CAPTURE OF CORNWALI.IS, 1781. The Revolutionary war was closed by the cap- ture of Cornwallis, at Yorktou-n, on York river, Virginia. He had just returned from Carolina, and now hoped to subdue Virginia. But in .September, the Americans and French, under Washington, sur- rounded him from all quarters on land ; while the French fleet in the Chesapeake Bay blocked up the mouths of the rivers, and shut out the English. Clinton was at New York ; but it was impossible for him to reinforce Cornwallis. Washington had harassed Clinton all summer, and induced him to believe that he was to be besieged in New York. On the 24th of August, Washington left his camp on the Hudson, and marched through New Jersey and Pennsylvania, to the head of the Chesapeake. The French Admiral De Grasse, who had just ar- rived, carried the American forces down the bay to Yorktown. The army passed through Philadelphia in a line more than two miles long, and in very splendid style. The streets were filled with crowds, and the windows to the highest stories with ladies, all cheering on the troops with itnmense applause. Washington, with all his generals ; the French Count Rochambeau, with all his ; General Knox, with one hmidred cannon ; and the wliole army. 181 pressing on with proud steps and a noble confidence, presented a most magnificent spectacle. In the midst of this scene, news carae, that the French fleet had arrived in the Chesapeake. The whole city rang with the notes of the general joy, and all seemed in- spired with confidence in a certain victory. Cornwallis was completely invested by the 7th of October. He had raised intrenchments ; but the Americans and French had erected breast-works all about him, and now opened their batteries. They fired day and night. The roar was terrible. The ground, for miles, shook with it; and the bombs and shells were seen whirling and crossing each other in the dark sky, and blazing like comets. If they fell upon the ground, it was torn up for a rod around, and dozens were killed when they burst. The bombs sometimes went over the heads of the enemy, and fell among the British works at Gloucester Point on the other side of the river. The water spouted in columns as they fell. One night, an attack was made upon two redoubts, which the British had built out so far, that they stood in the way of some Amer- ican works just building around them. The French were ordered to take one redoubt, and the Americans under Lafayette, the other. The two parties tried to outdo each other. Lafayette carried his redoubt first, however, and sent his aiddecamp to the leader of the French party, through all the fire of the bat- teries, to tell him he was in. "So will I be," said the Frenchman, " in five minutes ;" and he perform- ed his promise. Cornwallis surrendered on the 19th. His army, of about seven thousand men, marched out, at two o'clock, and passed between the American line on one side, and the French on the other, stretched out for more than a mile. They were dressed in their most splendid uniforms, with colours flying, and accompanied with fine music. The English, carry- ing their colours bound up, marched with a slow and solemn step. The English general rode up to Washington at the head of the line, and excused the ab- sence of Cornwallis, who feigned sickness. Wash- ington pointed him politely to General Lincoln, and the latter directed him to a large field a little on the south, where the whole British army laid down their arms, and were led away prisoners. The following article which we extract from a late number of Blackwood's (English) Magazine, describes the consternation of the British ministry when they received the intelligence of the capture of Cornwallis : — "During the month of November, the accounts transmitted to government of Lord Cornwallis's em- barrassments, augmented (he anxiety of the Cabinet. Lord George Germaine, in particular, conscious that on the prosperous or adverse result of that expedition hinged the result of the American contest, and his own fate, as well as, probably, the duration of the ministry itself, expressed to his friends the strongest uneasiness on the subject. The meeting of Parlia- ment stood fixed for the 27th of the month. On the 25th, about noon, the oflicial intelligence of the sur- render of the British forces at Yorktown, arrived at Lord Germaine's house. Lord Walsina:ham, who, previous to his father, Sir William de Grey's eleva- tion to the peerage, had been under secretary of state in that deparlmenl, and who was to second the ad- dress in the House of Lords, happened to be there when the messenger brought the news. Without communicating it to any person, Lo d George, for the purpose of despatch, immediately got with him into a hackney coach, and drovf to Lord Stormont's residence in Portland Place. Having imparted the disastrous information to him, and taken him into the carriage, they instantly proceeded to the Chancel- lor's house in Great Russel street, Bloomsbury, whom they found at home ; when, after a short consultation, they determined to lay it themselves in person before Lord North. He had not received any intimation of the event when they arrived at his door in Down- ing street between one and two o'clock. The first minister's firmness, and even his presence of mind, gave way for a short time under this disaster. I ask- ed Lord George afterwards how he took the com- munication. 'As he would have taken a ball in his breast,' replied Lord George. He opened his arms, exclaiming wildly, as he paced the apartment during a few minutes, 'O God, it is all over;' words which he repeated many times under emotions of deepest agitation and distress. " Military aff"airs have since displayed themselves on a broader scale, and we can scarcely conceive that such notions of national calamity could be appended to the capture of a force which, however brave, scarcely amounted to the vanguard of a modern army, certainly not to the twentieth of the army with which Wellington appeared on the frontier of France. The misfortune of the troops under Cornwallis was un- questionable, but their character was unstained ; they had been brought by their commander into a cul de sac, where, it is true, they might have held out for ever, if they could have received supplies by sea. But that contingency was too delicate to have been relied on by an officer of any intelligence. The re- sult proved the fact. The French fleet took up the position which Lord Cornwallis's imaginary plan had marked out for the British. The army withm Yorktown found, that though to Americans they were impregnable, they had a more formidable enemy, famine, to deal with ; and finally, to that enemy, and that enemy alone, they surrendered. " We next have a picture of a Cabinet Council in terror. When the first agitation had subsided, the four ministers discussed the question, whether it might not be expedient to prorogue the meeting of Parlia- ment for a few days ; but as scarcely an interval of forty-eight hours remained before the appointed time of meeting, and as many members of both Houses had arrived in London, or were on their way, the proposition was abandoned. It became, however, indispensable to alter, and almost remodel the King's speech. This was done without delay, and at the same time Lord George, as secretary for the Amer- ican department, sent off a despatch to the King, then at Kew, acquainting him with the fate of Lord Cornwallis's expedition." The narrative proceeds: — "I dined that day at Lord George's, and although the information which had reached London in the course of the morning from France, as well as from the official report, was of a nature not to admit of long concealment, yet it had not been communicated to me or any other in- dividual of the corapanv when I got to Pall Mall between 5 and 6 o'chick. Lord Walsinyham, who also dined there, was the only person, except Lord George, acquainted with the fact. The party, nine 182 in nun.ber, s->jt down to tlie table. I thought the master of ihs house appeared serious, though he manifested no discomposure. Before dinner was over a letter was brouL'ht back by the messenger who had been despatched to the king. Lord Walsingham, to whom he e.velusively directed the observation — 'The King writes,' said he, 'just as he always does, except that I observe, he has neglected to mark the hour and minute of his writing with his usual precision.' 'J'his remark, though calculated to awaken some interest, excited no comment ; and while the ladies, Lord George's three daughters, remained in the room, we repressed our curiosity. But thej- had no sooner withdrawn, than Lord George having acquainted us that information had just arrived from Paris of the old Count Maurepas, fir>t mmister, lying at the point of death ; ' It woidd grieve me,' said 1. ' to finish my career, however far advanced in vears, were I first minister of France, before I had witnessed the termi- nation of this great contest between Enghuid and America.' ' He has survived to see that event,' re- plied Lord George Germaine, with some agitation. "The conversation w,as prolonsred until, on llie mention of the Virginia campaign, the minister dis- closed the full bearing of the intelligence. ' Tiie army has surremiered, and you mav peruse the par- ticulars of the capitulation in that paper.' The paper was taken from ins pocket, and read to the com[)Linv. The ne,\t question was one of rather an obtrusive kind, to see what the king thought on llie subject. The narration states the minister's remark, that it did the highest honor to his majesty's (irniness, forti- tude, and consistency. But this was a complying moment, and we are told that the billet was read to effect; ' I have received, with sentiments of the deep- est concern, the communication which Lord George Germaine has made to me, of the unfortunate result of the operations to Virginia. I particnlarly lament it on account of the consequences connected with it and the dillicullies which it may produce in carrying on the pulilic business, or in repairing such a misfortune. But I trust that neither Lord Germaine, nor any other member of the Cabinet will suppose that it makes the smallest alteration in those principles of my con- dnc , which have directed me in the past time, which will always continue to animate me under every event, in the prosecution of the present contest.' "The Cabinet, strengthened by the roval determi- nation, now recovered courage ; ihev met Parliament at the appointed time, and fought their battle there with unusual vigor. Perhaps "in all the annals of senatorial struesrle there never was a crisis which more powerfully displayed the talents of the Com- mons. Burke, Fox. and Pitt, were at once seen pouring down the whole fiery torrent of declamation on the government. The characteristic distinctions of their public speaking gave a new vividness and force to their assault upon the strongholds of the ministry. Fox's passionate personality hurled the fiercest invective against the ministry, the court, and, fatally for his own ambition, the king. Burke's vast grasp gathered materials of charge from all quarters, and all subjects, and heaped them alike, strong and wsak. on the devoted heads of ttie culprit Cabinet. Pitt, with keener sagacity, for both the present nnd the future, tore up the frame of the ministerial p.,- licy, spared persons, avoided all insult to the mo- 1 narch, but with the copious and superb combination | of fact and feeling, argument and appeal, which from that period was adopted as his great parliamentary weapon and which was made to give him match- less superiority in a deliberative assembly, swept all before him with a 'two-handed sway,' and where he smote, left nothing for friends or enemy to com- bat or defend after him. "These efforts failed of overthrowing the Cabinet at the time ; but there can be no question that thev hastened that precipitate fall which was so speedily afterwards to surprise the nation. The assault had terrified the garrison, and shaken the battlements to a degree whidi made the result of the next attack secure." W.ATERLOO .\T NOON, THE D.\Y AFTER THE BATTLE. On a surface of two square miles, it was ascertain- ed that fii'ty thousand men and horses were lying! The luxurious crop of ripe grain which had covered the field of battle, was reduced to litter, and beaten into the earth; and the surface trodden down by the cavalry, and furrowed deeply by the cannon wheels, strewed with many a relic of the liirht. Helmets and cuirasses, shattered firearms and broken swords; all the variety of military ornaments ; lancer caps and Highland bonnets; uniforms of every color, plume and pennon ; musical instruments, the apparatus of of artillery, drums, bugles ; — but, good God ! why dwell on the harrowing picture of a foughten iield ? — each and every ruinous display bore mute testimo- ny to the misery of such a battle. ' Could the melancholy appearance of this scene of death be heightened, it would be by witnessing the research- es of the living, amidst its desolation, for the objects of their love. Molliers and wives and children, for days were occupied in that mournful duty ; and the confusi(m of the corpses, friend and foe intermingled as they were, often rendered theattenijit at recogniz- ing individuals clilhcult, and in some cases impossi- ble. "^ * In many places tlie dead lay four deep upon each other, marking the spot some IJriiish square had occupied, exposed for hours to the murderous fire of a French battery. Outside, lancer and cuiras- sier were scattered thickly on the earth. Madly at- tempting to force tlie serried bayonets of the British, they had fallen, iu the bootless essay, by the musket- ry of the inner files. Farther on, you trace the spot where the cavalry of France and Hngland had encountered ; chasseur and hussar were iiUiTiiiingled. and the heavy Norman horse of the Imperial Guard were interspersed with the gray chargers « hich had carried Albyn's chivalry. Here the Hiolihuulcr and traileur lay, side by side, together ; and the heavy dragoon, with green Erin's badge U[ion his helmet, was grappling in death with the Polisli lancer. — * * On the summit of the ridge, whire the ground was cumliered with dead, and trodden fetlock-deep in mud and gore, by the frequent rush of rival cavalry, the thick-strewn corpses of the Imperial Guard, pointed out the spot where Napoleon had been de- feated. Here, in column, that favored corps, on \vhora his last chance rested, had been annihilated ; and the advance and repulse of the Guard was trace- able by a mass of fallen Frenchmen. In the hollow below, the last struggle of France had been vainly made; for there tlie Old Guard attempteil to meet the British, and alFord time for iheir disorganized com- panions to rally. — Miixwdl'i ViLto.-ivs o; i!i.' B.iiisli c S3 O 2 185 YORKTOWN. The opposite cut presents a view of Yorktown, Virginia, as seen from the Williamsburg road. It is situated in York county, upon a river of the same name, and is noted in history as the scene of an important victory to the American troops, during the war of Independence. Situated only five miles from the mouth of the river, and ac- cessible by vessels of heavy burden, it is a place of considerable trade. But we introduce it here more for its interest as consecrated ground, than to present a portraiture of its present growth, and commercial and trading character. During the American Revolution, Yorktown was made the theatre of one of the most important events which characterized that struggle for in- dependence. In 1781, Lord Cornwallis with a large portion of the British Army, had taken pos- session of several places at the South, and amono- them, Yorktown and Gloucester: the latter is situated upon the bank of the York river, opposite to Yorktown. La Fayette, with an inferior num- ber of troops was at this time at Williamsburg, but was unable to make successful engagements with the superior force of the British. Seeing the importance of checking the progress of Corn- wallis at the south, Washington determined to unite the American and French forces, then in the neighborhood of New York, and join La Fayette at Williamsburg. This junction was effected on the fourteenth of September ; Wash- ington at the head of the American troops, and the Count de Rochambeau at the head of the French forces. At the same time the Count de Grasse with his fleet, entered the Chesapeake, after a slight engagement with Admiral Graves off the capes, and was joined by the squadron of the Count de Barras from Newport. At the same time three thousand men under the Marquis St. Simon, joined La Fayette. These combined forces then moved toward Yorktown and Glouces- ter, where Cornwallis was stationed. The British General had been expecting aid from Sir Henry Clinton at the north, but so ad- roitly had Washington withdrawn his troops, that Sir Henry scarcely suspected his design, till it was too late to frustrate it. Cornwallis at once began to fortify the town by throwing up redoubts, and on the thirtieth of September, the siege com- menced. Yorktown was completely invested ; the American army occupying the right, and the French the left, forming a semicircle with each wing resting upon the river. Gloucester was at the same time invested by Lauzun's legion, marines from the fleet, and Virginia militia. The siege commenced with the usual manosu- vres of throwing bombs, hot shot, &c., and the be- sieged sustained themselves bravely. Two re- doubts were stormed and carried at the same time; one by the American light infantry, under 24 La Fayette, the other by French grenadiers under the Baron de Viomenil. The conflict continued for seventeen days, when, no longer able to abide the vigorous attacks of the combined armies, Cornwallis sent a note to Washington proposing a cessation of hostili- ties and a capitulation for surrender. To this Washington acceded, and Cornwallis surrendered upon the following terms. 1.— All troops in the garrison to be prisoners of war — 2. Artillery, arms, military chest and stores, with shipping, boats, and all their furniture and apparel, to be given up. 3. The officers to retain their side-arms, and the soldiers to retain their private property — i. Sur- rendering army to receive the same honors as were awarded to the Americans at Charleston, with a few other requisitions of less importance. This treaty was signed on the nineteenth of October, 1781, and in the afternoon of that day, the garrisons of Yorktown and Gloucester march- ed out and surrendered their arms. The whole number of prisoners exclusive of seamen, was over seven thousand ; the British loss was be- tween five and six hundred. The combined army consisted of about seven thousand American reg- ulars, five thousand French, and four thousand militia. Their loss was about three hundred The land forces surrendered to Washington, the naval to the French Admiral. This glorious event was hailed throughout the country with the greatest demonstrations of joy It had completely destroyed British power at the south, and a speedy conclusion of the war was looked for. Congress passed special thanks to each commander engaged in the siege, and presented to Washington two stands of colors taken from the enemy, and to Counts Rochambeau and De Grasse two pieces of field ordnance. Congress also resolved to commemorate the event by rearing a marble column, to be adorned with devices emblematical of the alliance between France and the United States, and to inscribe it with the record of incidents pertaining to the siege and the surrender. The whole use of a hat is probably not o-ener- ally known — it is of more use than coverino- the head. If, when a person falls overboard, he had presence of mind to instantly take off his hat, and hold the rim of it to his chin, so that the hollow would be upward, it would keep him above the water as long as ever he could hold it. This has been tried, and actually proved correct. Dean Swift says : It is with little-souled people as it is with narrow-necked bottles: the less thev have in them, the more noise they make in pour- ing out. 186 MOORE'S HOUSE AT YORK TOWN. York is a pretty little town in the southeastern part of Virginia, and situated on the banks of the beautiful stream whence it derives its name. — It is, in fact, upon a peninsula, formed by James riv- er on the south, and York river on the north ; both of which empty into the Chesapeake bay a few miles below. Gloucester is situated upon the north side of York river, directly opposite York town. There is a sweep or bend in the river at this point, and the distance over from Y"ork to the headland of the opposite shore is but aliout a mile. And what of York? Why, it was at this little local- ity, that the famous earl Cornwallis, the darling hope of the British ministry, the gentleman who coinittd with so much facility on the reduction of the southern countrj-, and who exhibited so much humane and tender mercy by Haying cattle and killiiii( poidtry, destroying haystacks, burning houses, and pillaging villages, it was here, that this notable personifica- tion of British grace, was invested, and disarmed of those dangerous instruments with which he fain would have committed so much mischievous havock. Yes, to the joy of America, and the grief and amaze- ment of Britain, the great earl, by a series of ma- noeuvres conducted with consummate skill, by Lafay- ette on land, and the Count de Grasse at sea, was compelled to surrender the posts of York and Glou- cester, which ho occupied with so much fancied se- curity, reduced indeed, with his army of seven thou- sand men, to the humiliating necessity of capitulating on any terms his conquerors might propose. And here, in a field, a little above York town, did the whole of that great army march out, with colours cased, and lay down their arms in front and in view of the American jjosts. When Cornwallis saw that he was completely in- vested by the allied armies, by land and sea, and knew that he was cut ofl' from reaching Clinton, at New York, and from receiving aid from any quarter, he sat down in despair, and wrote the following note to General Washington • — York, 17th October, 1781. Sir : — I propose a cessation of hostilities for twenty-four hours, and that two officers may be ap- pointed by each side, to meet at Mr. Moore's house, to settle terms for the surrender of the posts of York and Gloucester. I have the honour to be, &c. Cornwallis. After some further preliminary correspondence, the commissioners accordingly met at Mr. Moore's JDUse, and arranged the articles of capitulation. Opposite, reader, you have a sketch of this very identical Mr. Moore's house. There it is, in its primi- tive simplicity, invested as it is with all its glorious associations, precisely as it stands at this very mo- ment, just as it was then. The same house — • the same windows — the same clapboards — the same dormant roof — the same old kitchen — the same green pasture in front — and the identical beautiful York river, stretching off with its mirrored surface in the distance. The messuage, however, has changed hands ; it is now owned by a Virginia planter — the soil is under cultivation — the house is occupied by the overseer of the plantation, and those cows, per- adventure, appertain to the dairy thereof. And hero follow the identical articles of capitula- tion, as they were arranged and signed in that house. Colonel Laurens, and the Viscount de Noailles were the commissioners on the part of General Washington, and Colonel Dundas, and Major Ross, on that of Earl Cornwallis. ARTICLE.? OF CAPITULATION Settled between his excellency General Wash- ington, commander-in-chief of the combined forces of America and France ; his excellency the Count de Rochambeau, lieutenant-general of the armies oi the king of France, gTeat cross of the royal and mil- itary order of St. Louis, commanding the auxiliary troops of his most Christian majesty in America ; and his excellency the Count de Grasse, lieutenant- general of the naval armies of his most Christian majesty, commander of the order of St. Louis, com- mander-in-chief of the naval army of France, in the Chesapeake, on the one part, and the Right Honour- able Earl Cornwallis, lieutenant-general of his Brit- annick majesty's forces, commanding the garrisons of York and Gloucester, and Thomas Symonds, esquire, commanding his Britannick majesty's naval forces in York river in Virginia, on the other part. Article i. — The garrisons of York and Glouces- ter, including the officers and seamen of his Brit- aimick majesty's ships, as well as other mariners, to surrender themselves prisoners of war to the com- bined forces of America and France. The land troops to remain prisoners to the United States, the navy to the naval army of his most Christian ma- jesty. Granted. Article ii. — The artillery, arms, accoutrements, military chests, and public stores of every denomi- nation, shall be delivered, unimpaired, to the heads of departments appointed to receive them. Granted. Article in. — At twelve o'clock this day, the two redoubts on the left flank of York to be delivered, the one to a detachment of American infantry, the other to a detachment of French grenadiers. Granted. The garrison of York river will march out to a place to be appointed, in front of the posts, at two o a i t r m a •z d ^ s S o o H xh W o > O ?= H O jz: ?0 O o 189 o'clock, precisely, with shouldered arras, colours cased, and dnuns beating a British or German march. They are then to ground their arms, and return to their encampment, where they will remain trntU they are despatched to the places of their desti- nation. Two works on the Gloucester side will be delivered at one o'clock, to a detachment of French and American troops appointed to possess them. The garrison will march out at three o'clock in the afternoon ; the cavalry, with their swords drawn, trumpets sounding, and the infantry in the manner prescribed for the garrison of York. They are like- wise to return to their encampments, until they can be finally marched off. Article iv. — Officers are to retain their side- arms. Both officers and soldiers to keep their pri- vate property of every kind ; and no part of their baggage or papers to be at any time subject to search or inspection. The baggage and papers of officers and soldiers taken during the siege to be likewise preserved for them. Granted. It is understood that any property obviously belong- ing to the inhabitants of these states, in the posses- sion of the garrison, shall be subject to be reclaimed. A RTicLE V. — The soldiers to be kept in Virginia, Maryland, or Pennsylvania, and as much by regi- ments as possible, and supplied with the same ra- tions of provisions as are allowed to soldiers in the service of America. A field-officer from each na- tion, to wit, British, Auspach, and Hessian, and other officers on parole, in the proportion of one to fifty men, to be allowed to reside near their respec- tive regiments, to visit them frequently, and be wit- nesses of their treatment ; and that their officers may receive and deliver clothing and other necessa- ries for them, for which passports are to be granted ■when applied for. Granted. Article vi. — The general, staff, and other offi- cers, not employed as mentioned in the above arti- cles, and who choose it, to be permitted to go on parole to Europe, to New York, or to any other American maritime post at present in the posses- sion of the British forces, at their own option ; and proper vessels to be granted by the Count de Grasse to carry them under flag of truce to New York with- in ten days from this date, if possible, and they to re- side in a district to be agreed upon hereafter, untU they embark. The officers of the civil department of the army and navy to be included in this article. Passports to go by land, to be granted to those to whom vessels cannot be furnished. Granted. Article vii. — Officers to be allowed to keep soldiers as servants, according to the common prac- tice of the service. Servants not soldiers are not to be considered as prisoners, and are to be allowed to attend their masters. Granted. Article viii. — The Bonnetta sloop-of-war to be equipped, and navigated by its present captain and crew, and left entirely at the disposal of Lord Cornwallis from the hour that the capitulation is signed, to receive an aiddecamp to carry despatch- es to Sir Henry Clinton ; and such soldiers as he may think proper to send to New York, to be per- mitted to sail without examination. When his de- spatches are ready, his lordship engages on his part, that the ship shall be delivered to the order of the Count de Grasse, if she escape the dangers of the sea. That she shall not carry off any publick stores. Any part of the crew that may be deficient on her return, and the soldiers passengers, to be accounted for on her delivery. Article ix. — The traders are to preserve their property, and to be allowed three months to dispose of or remove them ; and those traders are not to ba considered as prisoners of war. The traders will be allowed to dispose of their effects, the allied army having the right of pre-emp- tion. The traders to be considered as prisoners of war upon parole. Article x. — Natives or inhabitants of different parts of this country, at present in York or Glouces- ter, are not to be punished on account of having joined the British army. This article cannot be assented to, being altogeth- er of civil resort. Article xi. — Proper hospitals to be furnished for the sick and wounded. They are to be attended by their own surgeons on parole ; and they are to be furnished with medicines and stores from the American hospitals. The hospital stores now at York and Gloucester shall be delivered for the use of the British sick and wounded. Passports will be granted for procuring them further supplies from New York, as occasion may require ; and proper hospitals will be furnished for the reception of the sick and wounded of the two garrisons. Article xii. — Wagons to be furnished to carry the baggage of the officers attending the soldiers, and to surgeons when travelling on account of the sick, attending the hospitals at the publick expense. They are to be furnished if possible. Article xiii. — The shipping and boats in the two harbours, with all their stores, guns, tackling, and apparel, shall be delivered up in their present state to an officer of the navy, appointed to take posses- sion of them, previously unloading the private pro- perty, part of which had been on board for security during the siege. Granted. Article xiv. — No article of capitulation to be in- fringed on pretence of reprisals ; and if there be any doubtful expressions in it, they are to be interpreted 190 according to the common meaning and acceptation of the words. Granted. Done at York town, in Virginia, October 19ih. 1781. cor.vwallis, Thomas Svmo.nds. Done in the trenches before York town, in Vir- ginia, October 19th, 1781. George Washington, Le Comte de Rochambeau, Le Comte de Barras, En mon nom & celui du Comte de Grasse. The success of the siege of York town, it is gen- erally understood, decided the revolutionary war. " The infant Hercules," said Dr. Franklin, " has now strangled the two serpents, that attacked him in his cradle. AH the world agree that no expedi- tion was ever belter planned or better executed." For the " great glory and advantage" of the surren- der of York, Washington afterwards acknowledged himself chiefly indebted to the French alliance. And in the proceedings of Congress upon the matter, it was amongst other things : " Resolved, That Con- gress cause to be erected at York town a mar- ble column, adorned with emblems of the alliance between the United States and France, and inscrib- ed with a suscinct narrative of the events of the siege, and capitulation." JOHN HANCOCK. During the siege at Boston, General Washington consulted Cutigress upon the ])iopri(!ty of bombard- ing the town of Boston. Mr. Ilaricork was then President of Congress. After General Washington's letter was read, a solemn silence ensued. This was broken by a member, making a motion that the house should resolve itself into a committee of the whole, in order that Mr. Hancock might give his opinion upon the important subject, as he was deep- ly interested from having all his estate at Boston. After he left the chair, he addressed the chairman of the committee of the whole, in the following words : " It is true, sir, nearly all the property 1 have in the world, is in houses and other real estate in the town of Boston ; but if the expulsion of the British army from it, and the liberties of our country, require their being burnt to ashes — issue the order for THAT purpose IMMEDIATELY." General Putnam. — During the war in Canada, between the French and English, when General Am- herst was marching across the country to Canada, the army coming to one of the lakes which they were obliged to pass, found the French had an armed vessel of twelve guns upon it. The general was in great distress ; his boats were no malch for her, and she alone was capable of sinking his whole army, in the situation in which it was placed. General Putnam c .ne to him and said. " General, that ship must be taken." " .\y," said Amherst, "I would give the world, if she was taken." "1 will take her," says Putnam. Amherst smiled, and asked how ? " Give me some wedges, a beetle, (a large wooden hammer or mallet, used for driving wedges) and a few men of my own choice." Am- herst could not conceive how an armed vessel was to be taken by a few men, a beetle and wedges. However, he granted Putnam's request. When night came, Putnam, with his materials and men, stole quietly in a boat under the vessel's stern, and in an instant drove in the wedges behind the rudder, in the little cavity between the rudder and the ship, and left her. In the morning llie sails were seen fluttering about, she was adrift in the middle of the lake, and being presently blown ashore, she was easily taken. THE MUSICIAN'S LAST HOUR BY PARK BENJAMIN. The good old man lay dying. Soft and cool Played the light summer breeze among the leaves Of a deep foliaged tree, that ca^st its shade Into the window of his quiet room. It made a lustling whisper like the hush Of a fond mother o'er her sleeping bahe. And all were still — yet many friends were there, Who oft had hung enchanted, on the sounds Flow ing tVom those pale lips, springing like thought Beneath the touch of those thin stirless fii^gers. He slept — how calm ! and oh ! methinks he dreamed! He dreamed of starry musick — of the spheres Making rich harmony — of seraphs' harps, ThriUing and trembling to the heavenly plumes That fanned their golde.n wires. He heard the song Of cherubim, symphonious, faint and low ; For soft he smiled, and seemed intent to hear — • He heard the choir of angels, loud and full. Pouring a flood of musick ; for he stirred With restless fervour, and his eyelids rose. ^was but the breeze disciuieting his slumber — Throwing the branches of the leafy tree Against the lattice — freshening as the ray Of sunset deepened. Its first, low-sounding tonvs Had mingled with his fancy, and he dreamed Of gentle radence : when it louder swelled He heard the angel chorus, and awoke ! Turning his feeble gaze upon the forms That stood around, subdued to breathless awe. He seemed to seek for some dear countenance. The inquiring look was answered — for a girl, As lovely as the seraph of his dream, With voice as charming, to his pillow leaned And soblied : " What will thou with me, oh ! my father ?** "I'm dying, Ella, dying! play an air Upon ihy harp — its chords I would hear thrill \\ ith the deep musick which 1 taught and loved. And still love next to thee, mine own, and Heaven I" The maiden went, and w ith a faltering step Approached her harp. She lightly touched the strings, Prelusive to some strain, as sad and solemn As the lone swan's first but last warbled song. Sudden the old man rose. His dim eye lightened ; His hands he threw as if in rapid flight, Across the chords, and clearly spoke — ** Not so ! Not so ! my dauiihter — not a mournful theme ; For I would triumph over Death, and soar Victorious as a conqueror to his throne ! Be it a martial air.' The maiden paused A moment only ; for new courage flashed O'er her bright brow — and Inspiration, caught From her great father's spirit, gave her powei To sweep the chords with firm and brilliant hand. She played a Triumph, such as Miriam sung. When Israel's rescued armies passed the sea ! The sunset's latest beams streamed broadly in Upon the old man's couch. His visage shone As if the portals of the sky were thrown Apart before his sway. 1'he harp still flung Majestiek musick on his ruptured ear ; And with the utterance of a mighty strain. He fell upon his pillow — and was still ! His soul had floated on that wave of sound To Heaven ! 191 CURIOUS RELICK OF ANTIQUITY. We have now before us a very curious and interest- ing specimen of ancient art, presented to us by a friend, the work probably of a people who inhabited this country previous to the present race of aborigi- nes ; for it displays a perfection in the arts far sur- passing the rude state in which they at present exist among this people. ' This relick was found in Michigan, in one of those ancient fortifications which are scattered over our country. It is a piece of sculpture, the material of which resembles, somewhat, black slate, but is as hard as flint. A knife will make no impression up- on it. It evidently must have been carved when in a softer state than the present. It was probably formed of some earthy material into a proper con- sistence to be cut, and was then hardened by baking. The figure is that of a female sitting on the ground, in an attitude and air of sadness and despondency, leaning her head upon the back of her left hand, the elbow resting on the top of a small vessel in the form of a cask ; the right hand resting on the knee and holding something which appears to have en- graved on it some written characters, but which are too small and indistinct to enable us accurately to discern their form. Over the head is thrown a loose drapery, falling down upon the shoulders and back, leaving the left arm, on which she reclines, and the left breast naked ; but folding across in graceful folds over the right arm and breast, and covering the front part of the figure. On the forepart of the head, which is not covered by the drapery, the hair is gracefully parted, and a portion of it hangs down in tresses upon the left breast. The little cask on which she leans, shows the staves in regular order, with three hoops at the top, and two at the bottom. The head of the cask comes up even with the chime, and seems to be formed of narrow strips like the staves ; on the front part of the cask there appears to have been something attached like a handle, but of what form is not distinguishable, as a portion of the front part of the figure is broken off. Around the cask lengthwise, over the hoops, passes something like a band, which was designed, perhaps, for the purpose of carrying it. From the size of the vessel, compared with that of the figure, we should judge its use was to carry water. Every part of the figure and its appendages, is very distinct, and the sculpture admirably perform- ed, and yet the whole height by exact measurement, is but one inch and one eighth. The head, which dis- plays very perfectly the features, and even a counten- ance indicative of wo, is not larger than a good-sized pea. What this tiny figure was meant to represent, when was the age in which it was made, and who were the people whose ingenious artists could pro- duce such works — are interesting inquiries, but will probably never be satisfactorily answered. Genesee Farmer. ON THE EVILS OF WAR. The following thrilling account of the execution of Col. Hayne, of South Carolina, during the war of the American revolution, was related by the Rev. M. Beckwith, in a discourse " On the evils of War." " Among the distinguished men who fell victitns in the war of the American revolution, was Col. Isaac Hayne, of South Carolina ; a man who, by his amiability of character and high sentiments of honour and uprightness, had secured the good will and affection of all who knew him. He had a wife and six children, the eldest a boy thirteen years of age. His wiffc, to whom he was iendht-fnll, when the German troops gave way, and left the field to their Yankee victors. Un- der cover of the darkness, many of them escaped. Colonel Baum received a wound in the first engage- ment, which soon after proved mortal. The Americans took that day, four fieldpieces, twelve brass drums, two hundred and fifty dragoon swords, four ammimition-wagons, and seven hundred prisoners. Their own loss was thirty slain, forty wounded. The intliience of this engagement was very great. A long niglit of reverses had hung over the northern section of onr country, and this was the first dawning of that bright day which was fast approaching. Our company returned by a circuitous route, and after riding about twenty-three miles, we arrived at home, and the long shades of the trees told us cer- tainly that the day was ending. A NEW JERSEY HERO. Captai.n- Nathaniel Fitz Randolph, of Wood- bridge, was one of the bravest and most intrepid men. Twice he was offered a colonel's commis- sion in the regular army ; but he preferred the command of his own select volunteers to any other service, and performed the most desperate deeds of valor. He and his men were once surrounded by a greatly superior force of the British. Their uni- form motto was " Death or Victory." The con- test was maintained with great slaughter on both sides, until he stood literally alone, wading in the blood of his companions, who lay in heaps dead and w'ounded around him. In this condition, he seized a musket, and, being a man of great mus- cular strength, defended himself, and knocked down his enemies right and left with the butt-end of it, until the British commander became heart- ily sick of the contest, and begged that for God's sake he would desist and spare the sacrifice of human life, seeing that he must eventually fall into their hands dead or alive. He coolly replied that he was not yet a prisoner, and again placed himself in a posture of defence. The British officer renewed his entreaties, telling him he was the bravest man he ever saw, and that it was a pity so valuable a life should be lost in so unequal a contest; promising him the kindest treatment. At length, being covered with wounds, and faint and weak from fatigue and loss of blood, and no longer able to raise the weapon of defence, he reluctantly gave himself up, under the pledge that he should be well treated, and e.xchanged the first opportunity : which promise was faith- fully performed, and he was soon again at liberty to take up his arms in defence of freedom. His bravery, intrepidity, and gigantic strength, made him a terror to the British wherever his n.ime was known ; but the tories and London traders were his most inveterate foes. A whole squad dared not encounter him in the daytime, even when he was alone. On a certain occasion, when he was on a scout- ing expedition on Staten island, a party of tories secretly dosfged him into a house in the evening, and, after he had laid aside his arms, rushed in upon him and made him prisoner — when, to his great grief and mortification, he remained nearly a year before he was exchanged. At the head of his volunteers he once encoun- tered a company of Hessians, one of whom be- ing- somewhat separated from the rest, took de- liberate aim and wounded Captain K. in the arm. He plainly saw whence the ball came, the com- panies being very near together, and walking deliberately up to the fellow, as though he would say something to him, seized hini under his sound arm, and bronght him off a prisoner, while his gaping comradesstood motionless with surprise. Captain R. was finally killed by a tnusket-ball in a battle near Elizabethtown, and buried at Woodbridge with the honors of war. DISTANCES OF STARS IN THE MILKY-WAY. In regard to the distances of some of these stars, we may easily conceive that they are immense, and, consequently, far removed from our distinct coinprehension. Sir W. Herschel, in endeavor- ing to determine a ^'■sounding li?ie" as he calls it to fathom the depth of the stratum of stars in the Milky-Way, endeavors to prove, by pretty conclusive reasoning, that his twenty feet tele- scope penetrated to a distance in the profundity of space not less than four hundred and ninety- seven times the distance of SIrins ; so that a stratum of stars amounting to four hundred and ninety-seven in thickuess, each of them as far distant beyond another as the star Sirius is distant from our sun, was within the reach of his vision when looking through that telescope. Now, the least distance at which we can conceive Sirius to be from the earth or the sun is 23,000,000,000,- 000, or twenty billions of miles ; and, consequent- ly, the most distant stars visible in his telescope liiust be four huudred and ninptv-seveii times this distance, that is, 9,940,000,000,000,000, or nearly ien i/iousand billions of jniles! 196 An Antique. — A venerable and beautiful relick of old tinifis has been disinterred, as one may say, from a burial of thirty years and more, in Norfolk. This is nolhint; less than the mace, employed before the Revolution, by the borough-rourt, as a symbol of authority. It is of richly-wrought silver, three feet six inches long, and weighing eighty-six ounces. It consists of a polished stall, having a crown on the top, with the British arms, the rose and thistle, and other devices. The crown weighs twenty-eight ounces. — From an inscription on the staff, it appears that this beautiful piece of workmanship was presented to the corporation of Norfolk in 1753, by the Hon. Robert Uinwiddie; then lieutenant-governour of Virginia. In 1790, it was committed to the clerk of the borough-court for safe keeping, and by him deposited, in 1805, in the vault of the Virginia bank, where it has ever since reinauied undisturbed, and almost for- gotten. BATTLE OF THE BRANDYWINE. We had been in the saddle about an hour, under the intrepid Pulaski, who, with his own hands, ex- amined our swords, pistols, and other equipments, as if assured that the struggle would be a deadly and long-contimied one. The day was one of the most beautiful that ever broke over the earth. We were about half a mile from the main body, ranged along a green slope, facing the west, our horses, about four hundred in nuniher, standing as patiently as so many marble statues, until just as the eastern skv began to redden and undulate, and cloud after cloud to roll up, and heave like a great curtain upon the wind ; and the whole heaven seemed discharging all its beauty and briiihtness upon one spot, I happened to turn about, and saw the tall Pole (Pulaski) bare- lieaded, lilting his horse, like some warlike presence come out of ihe sdlid earth, to worship upon the very siinnnit of tlu; hill behind us, it might be (for the no- ble carriage of the man, the martial bearing of the soldier, would |>ermit either interpretation) in the aw- ful employment of devotion, or in the more earthly one, of martial ob.>.ervation. But suddenly he reined up his charger, shook the heavy dew from his horse- man's cap, replaced it, and leaped headlong down the hill, just as a hright flash passed away on ihe horizon, follow ed by a loud report ; and the next instant a jiart of our ranks were covered with dust and lurf, thrown up hy a cannon-ball that struck near the spot he had just left. Our horses pricked up their ears at the sound, and ill at onee, as if a hundred trumpets were playing in the wind, came the enemy in his advance. Pu- laski unshi'.ithcd his sword, called out a select bodv, and set oil at a full g-allop to a more distant elevation, where he saw the cnomy advancing in two columns; one under Knypliausen. which moved in tremendous steadiness, in a dark solid mass, towards the spot occupied by General Maxwell ; the other under Cornwallis, which seemed to threaten the right flank of our main body. Intelligence was immediately sent to Washington, and reinforcements called in, from the post we had left. We kept our positions, awaiting for a whole hour the sound of conflict ; at last, a heavy volley rattled along the sky, a few moments passed, and then an- other fallowed, like a storm of iron upon the drum- heads. The whole air rung with it ; another, and another followed ; then, gradually increasing in loud- ness, came peal after peal, till it resembled a con- tinued clap of thunder, rolling about under an illu- minated vapour. But Pulaski, with all his impetu- osity, was a general, and knew his duty too well to hazard any movement, till he should be able to see, with certainty, the operations of the enemy in the vapour below. Meanwhile, several little parties that had been sent out, came in, one after the other, with the intel- ligence that Knyphausen had broken down upon Maxwell in magnificent style — been beaten back again ; but that he had finally prevailed, and that Maxwell had retreated across the river. A thin vapour had now arisen from the green earth below us, and completely covered the enemy from our view It was no longer possible to follow him, except by the sound of his tread, which we could feel in the solid earth, jarring ourselves and our horses , and now and then a quick glimmering in tlie mist as some standard was raised above it ; some weapon flourished, or some musket shot through it like a rocket. About an hour after, a horseman dashed through the smoke on the very verge of the horizon, and after scouring the fields, for a whole mile within view, communicated with two or three others, who set off in different directions ; one to us, with orders to hurry down to the ford, where the commander-in- chief was determined to fall on Knyphausen with all his power, before Cornwallis came to his aid. U was a noble but hazardous game. And Pulaski, whose warhorse literally thundered and lightened along the broken and stony precipice by which we descended, kept his eyes warily to the right, as if not quite certain that the order would not be counter- manded. We soon fell in with General Greene, who was posting all on fire to give Knyphausen battle ; and the next moment saw Sullivan in full march, over a dis- tant hill towards the enemy's flank. This arrange- ment would, doubtless, have proved fatal to Knyphau- sen, had not our operations been unfortunatt^ly arrest- ed, at the very moment we were prepared to fall upon him, man and horse, by the intelligence that Corn- wallis had moved off" to another quarter. It was a moment of irrcsolulion — doubt. It was the death- blow to our brilliant hopes of victory. Greene was recalled, and Sullivan commanded to halt. Hardly had this happened, our horses being covered with sweat and froth, fretting on the hit like chained tigers, and ourselves covered with dust, it being an excessively hot and sultry day, when a heavy cannonade was heard on our right flank, and Greene, to whose division we had been attached, was put in motion towards Sullivan, whom we had left some hours before. The truth nov broke upon us like a thunderclap. The enemy had passed, concentrated, as we supposed, and fallen upon our right. 197 I shall never forget Greene's countenance, when the news came ; he was on the roadside, upon an almost perpendicular bank ; but he wheeled where he was, dashed down the bank, his lace white as the bleached marble, and called to us to gallop for- ward, with such a tremendous impulse, that we marched four miles in forty minutes. We held on our way in a cloud of dust, and met Sullivan all in disorder, nearly a mile from the field, retreating step by step, at the head of his men, and shouting him- self hoarse, covered with blood and sweat, and striving in vain to bring them to a stand, while Corn- wallis was pouring in upon them an incessant volley. Pulaski dashed out to the right, over the broken fen- ces, and there stood awhile tiprighi in his stirrups, reconnoitring, while the enemy, who appeared by the smoke and the dust that rolled before them in the wind, to be much nearer than they really were, redoubled their eflbrts ; but at last, Pulaski saw a favourable opportimity — the column wheeled ; the wind swept across their van, revealing them like a battalion of spirits, breathing fire and smoke. He gave the signal; Archibald repeated it; then Arthur; then myself. In three minutes we were ready for the word. When Pulaski, shouting in a voice that thrilled through and through us, struck spurs to his charger, it was half a minute, so fierce and terrible was his charge, before we were able to come up Avith him. What coidd he mean ? Gracious Heaven ! my hand convulsed, like that of a drowning man, reined up for a moment when I saw we were galloping straight forward into a field of bayonets ; yet he was the first man I and who would not have followed him. We did follow him, and with such a hurricane of fire and steel, that, when- we wheeled, our whole path lay broad before us, with a wall of fire on the right hand and the left ; but not a bayonet or a blade in front, except what were under the hoofs of our horses — my blood rushes now, like a flash of fire through m}f forehead, when I recall the devastation that we then made, almost to the very heart of the enemy's column. But Pulaski, he who afterward rode into their in- trenchments on horseback, sword in hand, was ac- customed to it, and having broke over them once, awaie of his peril if he should give them time to awake from their consternation, he wheeled in a blaze of fire, with the intention of returning through a wall of death, more perilous than that which shut the children of Israel, upon the Red sea. But lo ! the wall had rolled in upon us ; and we were left no alternative, but to continue as we had began. The undaunted Pole rioted in the excess of his icy. I remember well how he passed me, covered with sweat and dust, riding absohitel)- upon the very points of their bayonets. But, at last, they pressed upon him, and horseman after horseman fell from our saddles ; when we were all faint and feeble, and even Archibald was fighting on foot, over his beautifid horse, with Arthur battling over his head, we heard the crv of " Succour, succour ! Imme- diately we felt the enemy give way, heaving this way, then that, and finally concentrated beyond us. " Once more ! once more !" cried Pulaski, and awav he went, breaking in upon them as they were forming, and trampling down whole platoons in the charge before a man could plant his bayonet or bring his gun to an aim ; our aspect as we came thundering round upon them, was sufficient; the enemy fled, and we brought ofl" our companions unhurt. I have been in many a battle, many a one that made my hair afterward stand when I dreamed of it — but never in one where the carnage was so dread- ful, and fire so incessant, as that which followed the arrival of Greene. But the enemy had so efl'ectuallv secured his exposed points by ranks of men kneeling with planted bayonets, that we could make no im- pression upon them, although we rode upon them again and again, discharging our pistols in their faces. MY NATIVE HOME.— ALEXANDER B. UtEEK. Land of the South ! — imperial land ! How proud thy moimtains rise, How sweet thy scenes on every hand, How fair thy covering skies ! But not for this, — oh, not for thee, I love thy fields to roam. Thou hast a dearer spell to me, Thou art my native home ! The rivers roll their liquid wealth, Unequalled, to the sea, Thy hills and valleys bloom with health, And green with verdure be ! But not for thy proud ocean streams, Nor for thine azure dome. Sweet sunny South !— I cling to thee, Thou art my native home! I've stood beneath Italia's clime, Beloved of tale and song. On heaven's hills, proud and sublime Where Nature's wonders throng; By Tempe's classic sunlit streams, Where gods, of old, did roam. But ne'er have found so fair a land As thou — my native home ! And thou hast prouder glories too. Than Nature ever gave, Peace sheds o'er thee her genial dew, And freedom's pinions wave, Fair science flinsjs her pearls around. Religion lifts her dome. These, these endear thee to my heart, My own, loved native home ! And heaven's best gift to man is thine, God bless thy rosy girls ! Like sylvan flowers, they sweetly shine. Their hearts are pure as pearls! And grace and goodness circle them. Where'er their footsteps roam, How can I then, while loving them. Not love my native home ! Land of the South! imperial land! Then here 's a health to thee! Long as thy mountain barriers stand, Mayst thou be blessed and free ! May dark dissension's banner ne'er Wave o'er thy fertile loam, But should it come, there 's one will die To save his native home ! 198 BATTLE OF SARATOGA. 'See Map, page 1"7.) The following graphically simple narrative, from the personal recollociions of an eyewitness and participator, of the glorious series of events immedi- ately preceding and attending the capture of Bur- goyne — forming what we must regard as the bright- est page in American history — is from the pen of E. Mattoon, Esq., of Amherst, Mass., an officer in the Itovoliitionary army of the North — one of the few yet spared to invigorate the patriotism and inspire the reverential gratitude of the existing and rising generations. The circumstances which awakened and drew forth these reminiscences, are best explained by the letter itself: — Amhebst, (Mass.,) October 7, 1835. PiiiMP Schuyler, Esq. Sir: Yours of the 17th ult., requesting me to give you a detailed account of the battle of Sara- toga, surrender of Gen. Burgoyne, nd their left e.xtending on to Beniis's heights ; Geneials Ni.xon and Glover commanding on the liglit, Lincoln the centre, and Morgan and Lamed the Irft. The British army, with its left resting on the river, was commanded by Philips ; their centre by Gen. Ueilheisel, and the extreme right, extending to the heights was commanded by Lord Dalcarras, where he was strongly fortified. Their light-troops were under the command of Gen. Frazier and Lieut. Auckland. About one o'clock of tliis day, two signal guns were fired on the left of the British armv, which in- I dicated a movement. Our troops were immedi I ately put under arms, and the lines manned. At this juncture, Gens. Lincoln and Arnold rode with great speed towards the enemy's lines. While they were absent, the picket guards on both sides were engaged near the ri>'er. In about half an hour, Generals Lincoln and Arnold returned to headquar- ters, where many of the officers collected to hear their report. Gen. Gates standing at the door. Gen. Lincoln says: "Gen. Gates, the firing at the river is merely a feint ; their object is your left. A strong force of 1500 men are marching circuitous- ly to plant themselves on yonder height. That point must be defended, or your camp is in danger." Gates replied : " I will send Morgan with his rifle- men, and Dearborn's Infantry." Arnold says : " That is nothing ; you must send a strong force." Gates replied : " Gen. Arnold, I have nothing for you to do ; vou have no business here." Arnold's reply was reproachful and severe. Gen. Lincoln says : " You must send a strong force to support Morgan and Dearborn, at least three regiments." Two regiments from Gen. Lamed's brigade and one from Gen. Nixon's, were then ordered to that station, and to defend it at all hazards. Generals Lincoln and Arnold immediately left the encamp- ment, and proceeded to the enemy's lines. In a few minutes, Capt. Furnival's company ol Artillery, in which I was lieutenant, was ordered to march towards the fire which had now opened upon our picket in front, the picket consisting of about three hundred men. While we were marching, the whole line, from the river up to our picket in front, was engaged. We advanced to a height of ground which brought the enemy in view, where we open- ed our fire. But the enemy's guns, eight in num- ber, much heavier than ours, rendered our position untenable. We then advanced into the line of infantry. Here Lieut. M'Lane joined me. In our front there was a field of corn, in wliich the Hessians were secret- ed. On our advancing towards the cornfield, a num- ber of men rose up and fired upon us. M'Lane was severely wounded. While I was removing him from the field, the firing still continued without abatement. During this time, a tremendous firing was heard on our left. We poured in upon them, our canister- shot as fast as possible, and the whole line from left to right, became warmly engaged. The smoke was very dense, and no movements could be seen, but as soon as it arose, our infantry appeared to be slowly retreating, and the Hessians slowly ad- vancing, their officers urging them on with their hangers. Just at this moment, an elderly man, with a long hunting gun, coming up, I said to him : " Daddy, the infantry mus'n't leave me — 1 shall be cut to pieces." lie replied : " I'll give them another gun." The smoke then rising again, several officers, led by a general, appeared moving to the northward, in the rear of the Hessian line. The old man, at that in- stant, discharged his gun, and the general officer pitched forward on the neck of his horse, and in- stantly they all wheeled about, the old man observ- ing: "I have killed that officer, let him be who he will." I replied : " You have, and it is a general 199 ofBcer, and by his dress I believe it is Frazier." While thev were turning about, three of their horses dropped down ; but their further movements were then concealed by the smoke. Here I will offer the reasons why I think this of- ficer was Gen. Frazier, and that he was killed by the shot of this old man. In the first place, the dis- tance, by actual measurement, was within the reach of a gun. For the next morning, a dispute arising about the distance, some contending that it was eight rods, and others fifteen, two respectable sergeants, both of whom have since been generals in the militia of Massachusetts, were selected to de- cide the dispute by pacing the ground. They did so, and found the distance, from the stump where the old man stood to the spot where the horses fell, just twelve rods. In the next place, the officer was shot through the body from the left to the right, as was afterward ascertained. Now, from his relative position to the posted riflemen, he could not have been shot through in this direction, but they must have hit him in front. Moreover, the riflemen could not have seen him, on account of the smoke in which he was enveloped. The troops continuing warmly engaged. Col. Johnson's regiment came up, threw in a hea^y fire, and compelled the Hessians to retreat. Upon this, we advanced with a shout of victory. At the same time Auckland's corps gave way. We proceeded but a short distance before we came upon four pieces of brass cannon, closely sur- rnunded by the dead and dying; at a few yards far- ther, we came upon two more. Advancing a little farther, we were met by a fire from the British in- fantry, which proved very fatal to one of Col. John- son's companies, in which one sergeant, one cor- poral, and fourteen privates, were killed and about twenty were wounded. They advanced with a quick step, firing as they came on. We returned them a brisk fire of canister- shot, not allowing ourselves even to sponge our pie- ces. In a short time, they ceased firing, and advan- ced upon us with trailed arms. At this juncture, Arnold came up with a part of Brooks's regiment, and gave them a most deadly fire, which soon caus- ed them to face about, and retreat with a quicker step than thev advanced. The fire had principally ceased on our left, but was brisk in front and on the right. At this mo- ment, Arnold says to Col. Brooks, (late governour of Massachusetts): " Let us attack Balcarras's works." Brooks replied : " No. Lord Auckland's detach- ment has retired there ; we can't carry them." — " Well then, let us attack the Hessian lines." Brooks replied : " With all mv heart." We all wheeled to the right, and advanced. No fire was received, except from the cannon, until we got with- in about eight rods, when we received a tremen- dous fire from the whole line. But few of our men, however, fell. Still advancing, we received a sec- ond fire, in which a few men fell, and Gen. Arnold's horse fell under him, and he himself was wounded. He cried out : " Rush on, my brave boys !" After receiving the third fire, Brooks mounted their works, I swung his sword, and the men rushed into their I works. When we entered the works, we found ' Col. Bremen dead, surrounded by a number of his j companions, dead or wounded. We pursued thera I slowly, the fire, in the meantime, decreasing. Nightfall now put an end to this day's bloody con- test. During the day, we had taken eight cannon, and broken the cenire of the enemy's lines. We were ordered to rest, until relieved from the camps. The gloom of the night, the groans and shrieks of the wounded and dying, and the horrours of the whole scene baffle all description. Under cover of this night, (the seventh,) the British army changed their position, so that it be- came necessary to reconnoitre the ground. While Gen. Lincoln was doing this, he was severely wounded, so that his active services were lost to the army, during that campaign. A heavy rain commenced about eleven o'clock, which continued without abatement till the morning of the ninth. In this time, information came that Gen. Burgoyne had removed his troops to Saratoga. At nine o'clock, A. M., of October eighth, Capt. Furnival received orders to march to the river, to cross the floating bridge, and repair to the fording place, opposite Sara- toga, where we arrived at dusk. There we found Gen. Bailey, of New Hampshire, with about nine hundred men, erecting a long range of fires, to indi- cate the presence of a large army. The British troops had covered the opposite heights with their fires. In the early part of the evening. Col. Mosely ar- rived with his regiment of Massachusetts militia, when our company was directed by Gen. Bailey to make a show of our field-pieces at the river. We soon extinguished their lights. We were then or- dered to pass the Battenkill river, and erect works there during the night. In the morning, we perceived a number of officers on the stairs, and on the east side of the house, on the hill, a little north of the Battenkill river, apparently surveying our situation and works. My captain being sick at the time, I levelled our guns, and with such efl^ect as to disperse them. We took the house to be their headquarters. We continued our fire till a nine or twelve pounder was brought to bear upon us, and rendered our works useless. Next we were ordered in haste to Fort Edward, to defend the fording place. Colonel Mosely's regiment accompanied us. Some slight works were thrown up by us ; while thus employed, a number of British officers appeared on the oppo- site side of the river. We endeavoured to salute them according to their rank. They soon disap- peared During this day, (the tenth,) we captured fifty In- dians, and a large number of Canadians and Tories We remained at Fort Edward till the morning of the thirteenth. Being then informed of the ar- mistice which had been agreed upon, we were or- dered to return to our position on the Battenkill, and repair our works. Here we remained till the morn- ing of the seventeenth, when we received orders to repair to Gen. Gates's headquarters on the west side of the river. As we passed along, we saw the British army piling (not stacking) their arms ; the piles of arms extending from Schuyler's creek northward nearly to the house on the hill beforementioned. The range of piles ran along the ground west of the road then travelled, and east of the canal, as, Lam in- formed, it now runs. 200 Just below the island we passed the river, and came to Gen. Gates's markee, siniated on a level piece of d she holds an antique rudder, symbolick of naviga- tion ; and in the other she raises a crown of laurel, as, with a graceful inclination of the head, she looks towards the fort and field of battle. At her feet, on the right, is the Eagle of the United States ; niid near it a bomb, comraemorative of the bom- bardment. The height of the monument, including the statue, is lifty-two feet, two inches. A single glance at this monument, strikes the beholder with admiration, and suffices to convince him, that its various parts have been designed and combined by the eflbrt of talent and genius of the first order. But if the architect, fully impressed with the moral dignity and beauty of his subject, has conceived a plan worthy of his exalted genius, the master-hand of the sculptor has been no less happy in communicating to the pure marble the most admi- rable proofs of the power of his chisel and the per- fection of his art. The attitude of the noble statue, and the natural flow of its drapery, afford a true per- sonification of ease, grace, and dignity : the propor- tions are strikingly beautifid and correct, and its execution, including all the sculptured parts of the monument, is that of the finished artist. This ele- gant structure presents a glorious testimony of the patriotism, devotion, and gratitude of the citizens of Baltiiuore, and a no less gratifying evidence of the rapid advancement of the arts in this country. TO YOUNG MEN. There is no moral object so beautiful to me as a conscientious young man ! I watch him as I do a star in the heavens : clouds may be before him, but we know that his light is behind them, and will beam again ; the blaze of other's prosperity may outshine him but we know that, though unseen, he illumines his own true sphere. He resists temptation not without a struggle, for that is not a virtue, but he does resist and conquer ; he hears the sarcasm of the profligate and it stings him. for that is the trial of virtue, but he heals the wound with his own pure touch. He heeds not the watchword of fashion, if ! It lead to sin ; the Atheist who says, not only in his heart, but with his lips, "there is no God," con- trols him not, lor he sees the hand of a creating God and reverences it, of a preserving God and rejoices in it. Woman is sheltered by fond arms and guided by loving counsel, old age is protected by its expe- rience, and manhood by its strength ; but the young man stands amid the temptations of the world like a self-balanced tower. Happy, ne who seeks and gains the prop and shelter of Christianity. Onward, then, conscientious youth ! raise thy standard and nerve thyself for goodness. If God has given thee intellectual power, awaken it in that cause ; never let it be said of thee, he helped to swell the tide of sin, by pouring his influence into its channels. If thou art feeble in mental strength, throw not that poor drop into a polluted current. Awake, arise, young man ! assume the beautiful garments of virtue! It is easy, fearfully easy to sin, it is difilcidt to be pure and holy. Put on thy strength, then, let thy chivalry be aroused against errour, let truth be the lady of thy love — defend her. Soulhew Rose. AN AMERICAN CEDAR SWAMP. These swamps are from half a mile to a mile in breadth, and sometimes five or six in length, and appear as if they occupied the former chan- nel of some choked-up river, stream, lake, or arm of the sea. The appearance they present to a stranger is singular : — a forest of tall and per- fectly straight trunks, rising to the height of fifty or sixty feet, without a limb, and crowded in every direction, their tops so woven together as to sliut out the day, spreading the gloom of a perpetual twilight below. On a nearer approach, they are found to rise out of the water, which, from the impregnation of fallen leaves and roots of the cedars, is of the colour of brandy. Amidst this bottom of congregated springs, the ruins of the former forest lie in every state of confusion. The roots, prostrate logs, and in many places the water are covered with green mantling moss, while an undergrowth of laurel, fifteen or twenty feet high, intersects every spring so completely as to render a passage through, laborious and ha- rassing beyond description. At every step you either sink to the knees, clamber over falling tim- ber, squeeze yourself through between the stub- born laurels, or plunge to the middle in ponds made by the uprooting of large trees, and which the green moss concealed from observation. In calm weather, the silence of death reigns in these dreary regions; a few interrupted rays of light shoot across the gloom ; and unless for the occa- sional hollow screams of the herons and the melancholy chirping of one or two small birds, all is silence, solitude, and desolation. When a breeze rises, at first it sighs mournfully through die tops ; but as the gale increases, the tall, mast- like cedars wave like fishing-poles, and rubbing against each other, produce a variety of singular noises, that, with the help of a little imagination, resemble shrieks, groans, growling of bears, wolves, and such like comfortable music. Wilson. 204 REVOLUTIONARY ANECDOTES. We have gleaned from the publications of the day, the following anecdotes of the revolution. The first relates to the battle of Bunker's Hill — and is from the pen of A. E . Everett, Esq. : — "The veteran Pomeroy, to whom I have already particularly adverted, and who at this time held no connnission in the line, when he heard the pealing artillery, felt it as a summons to action, and could not resist the inclination to repair to the field. He accordingly requested Gen. Ward to lend Iiim a horse, and taking his musket, set off at full speed for Charlestown. On reaching the neck, and finding it_ enfiladed by a hot and heavy fire of round, bar and chain shot from the British batteries, he began to be alarmed — not, fellow-citizens, as you might well sup- pose, for his own safety, but for that of Gen. Ward's liorse ! Horses, fellow-citizens, as I have already remarked, were at this time almost as rare and pre- cious as the noble animals that rode them. Too honeit to expose his borrowed horse to the ' pelting of this pitiless storm,' and to dream for a moment of shrinking from it himself, the conquerer of Baron Dieskieu dismounted, and delivering Gen. Ward's horse to a sentry, shouldered his musket and march- ed very coolly on foot across the neck. On reach- ing the hill, he took his place at the rail-fence. His person was known to the soldiers, and the name of Pomeroy rang with enthusiastick shouts along the hne !" COMMODORE DECATUR. The Knickerbocker tells the following anec- dotes of Commodore Decatur : — "The Inte gallant Decatur was a sailor to the very heart's core, and loved to tell anecdotes of the common sailors. I recollect one which he used to relate, to the following purport : — " In one of the actions before Tripoli, while fight- ing hund to hand with the captain of a gun-boat, Decatur came near being cut down by a Turk, who attacked him from behind. A seaman named Reuben James, who was already wounded in both his hands seeing the risk of his commander, rush- ed iu and received the blow of his uplifted sabre on his own head Fortunately, the honest fellow survived to receive his reward. Some time afterward, when he had recovered from his wounds, Decatur sent for him on deck ex- pressed his gratitude for his self-devotion, in presence of the crew, and told him to ask for some reward. The honest tar pulled up his waistband and rolled his quid, but seemed utterly at a loss what recompense to claim. His mess- mates gathered around him, nudging him with their elbows, and whispering in his ear ; ' He had all the world in a string, and could get what he pleased ;' the 'old man could deny him nothing,' etc. One advised this thing, another that; 'double pay,' 'double allowance,' 'a boatswain's berth,' ' a pocket full of money and a full swing on shore,' etc. Jack elbowed them all aside, and would have none of their counsel. After mature deliberation, h* announced the reward to which he aspired ; it was, to be excused from rolling itp the hammock-cloths! The whimsical request was of course granted ; and from that time forward, whenever the sailors were piped to stow away their hammocks, Jack was to be seen loitering around and looking on, with the most gentlemanly leisure. He always continued in the same ship with Decatur. ' I could always know the state of my bile by Jack,' said the commodore. ' If 1 was in good humor, and wore a pleasant aspect, Jack would be sure to heave in sight, to receive a friendly nod : and if I were out of humor, and wore, as I sometimes did, a foul-weather physiog. nomy, Jack kept aloof, and skulked among the other sailors.' It is proper to add, that Reuben James received a more solid reward for his gallant devotion, than the privilege abovemen- tioned, a pension having been granted to him by government. On another occasion, Decatur had received at New York the freedom of the city, as a testimonial of respect and gratitude. On the following day, he overheard this colloquy between two of his sailors : ' Jack,' said one, ' what is the meaning of this freedom of the city, which they've been giving to the ' old man V ' Why don't you know ! Why, it's the right to frolic about the streets, as much as he pleases ; kick up a row ; knock down the men, and kiss the women!' ' ho I' cried the other ' thaCs something worth fiffhtins for!"' AccoRDiNR to an estimate made sometime since by the New Bedford Mercury, the printing busi- ness in the United States gives employment to two hundred thousand persons, and thirty millions of capital. THE SCHOOLROOM. It is believed that there are lasting and painful infirmities which begin in the school-room. It is a convenience and a relief to a busy mother to send her children to school for several hours in the day. She considers them safe while so em- ployed ; not only so, they are getting learning and preparing to get a living. But at this tender age, while the bones are hardening, and the deli- cate structure of the human frame is easilj' de- ranged, it is more than probable that long-contin- ued sitting lays the foundation for diseases which show themselves in after life, and occasion afflic- tion to the child, and cost and pain to parents. The learning that may be acquired in these early years can be no compensation for such evils. It would be far better for parent and child, to have good schools {or playing, as well as for learning, during the earlj' years of infancy. The natural athletic action of the human system has no ten- dency to deform or enfeeble it ; while the tedious confinement of the school-room is certain to do both. All that is contended for, is, that there should be a rational mixture of bodily action and mental employment for children, as mutually auxiliary in preserving health and in acquiring learning ; and, however common such thoughts may be, they cannot be too often expressed until they are carried into practical and general effect. 205 "BRITISH AUTHORITIES." It was during the last war, when the vessels of Admiral Gordon were making their way up the Po- tomack, that a negro-woman was arraigned in a court of Virginia for killing one of her own sex and colour ; she had been committed for murder, but the evidence went clearly to establish the deed to be manslaughter, inasmuch as it was done in sudden heat, and without malice-aforethought. The at- torney for the commonwealth waived the prose- cution for murder, but quoted British authorities to show that she might be convicted of manslaughter, though committed for murder. The counsel for the accused rose, and in a most solemn manner asked the court if it was a thing ever heard of, that an indi- vidual, accused of one crime and acquitted, should be arraigned immediately for another, under the same prosecution ? At intervals — boom, boom, boom, went the British cannon — " British authorities !" ex- claimed the counsel ; " British authorities, gentlemen ! Is there any one upon the bench so dead to (he feel- ings of patriotism, as at such a moment to listen to British authorities, when the " British cannon is sha- king the very walls of your courthouse to their found- ation." This appeal was too cogent to be resisted? Up jumped one of the justices, and protested that " it was not to be borne ; let the prisoner go : away with your British authorities !" The counsel for the ac- cused rubbed his' hands and winked at the attorney ; the attorney stood aghast ; his astonishment was too great for utterance, and the negress was halfway home, before he recovered from his amazement. CONSTITUTION AND GUERRIERE. We find the following characteristic anecdote of the capture of the Guerrierre, in the Springfield Re- publican. The correspondent says he gives it as he heard it in the circles of Virginia, and believes it has not before appeared in print. A short time previous to her capture by the Con- slitution, the Guerriere had fallen in with, and taken a French prize. Among the passengers transferred to tlie deck of the Guerriere, was a French gentleman charged with despatches to the American govern- ment, who, on presenting himself to the British com- mander, was dispossessed of his books and papers and peremptorily ordered to go below. Overwhelmed with this sudden and unexpected termination of his mission, the gentleman passed several days in great distress and agony of mind, which was not a little heightened by the haughty bearing and insolence of his victor. Once or twice, addressing him with his blandest manner and best English, he said: — " Captain Dacre, I tank you, sare, for my govern- ment despatch and my law-books." " Go below ! you frog-eating, swallow-faced wretch !" was the only reply of the proud Briton. Ere long, however, a sail was descried on the edge of the distant horizon. Her gradually increas- ing size gave token that she approached — and, as she neared to view, the tapering spars and the grace- ful trim of the Yankee were seen. Captain Dacre, with glass in hand, had observed her from a mere speck, and as soon as he was satis- fied that she was American gave vent to the wildest expression of joy. He paced the deck with exulting step^swore he would take that ship in fifteen min- utes — and to crown his anticipated triumph, directed that a hogshead of molasses be hoisted upon deck, to treat the d — d Yankees.* Our Frenchman, who was meanwhile a silent though not an uninterested observer of what was passing before him, again put on his most winning smiles, and remarked : — " Captain Dacre, sare, wid your permission I stay upon deck and see de fight." " Go to the devil," responded the vain and self- conceited boaster — now busied in preparations for a bold and brilliant achievement. Our hero was soon snugly ensconced among the rigging ; and the two vessels continued gradually and silently to approach each other. The Constitution having now got within reach of the enemy's long guns, the scene that followed is thus described by the lively Frenchman. " Captain Dacre, he sail dis way, and den he sail dat way, and den he go — boom! " De Yankee man, he say nothing — but still keep comin'. " Again Captain Dacre sail dis way, and den he sail dat way, and again he go — boom ! "Enfin, de Yankee man go pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop ! t " I say to Captain Dacre — Sare, wid your permis- sion I go below — His too hot here." He went below ; and the action continued. When the firing ceased, our little Frenchman, peeping up the hatchway, espied " one officer-like man, and Captain Dacre handing his sword." The truth flashed upon him in an instant. He rushed upon deck ; and finding himself again at liberty, he capered about like one "possessed." Finally ad- vancing to the now mute and fallen Dacre, he said, with an air which defies our humble pen : — " You tell me, sare, you take dis ship in fifteen minute, by gar, he take yoc !" " Notv, sare," he added, with a low and bitter emphasis, " / lank you for iny government despatch and law-books." Ability required for Instruction. — No mistake is more gross than that of imagining that undiscip- lined teachers are the fittest to deal with ignorance and mental rudeness. On the contrary, to force the rays of thought intelligibly through so opaque a me- dium, demands peculiarly and emphatically a great clearness and prominence of thinking, and an exact feeling of the effect of words to be chosen, combined, and varied. Foster. Beauty. — Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt and cannot last; and, for the most part, it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of countenance; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtues shine, and vices blush. Lord Bacon's Essavs. • Strange as it may appear, this order was actually obeyed. And at almost the first shot the Con.stitution struck the hogshead ; its contents spreading over the deck conduced, no doubt, to the Guerriere's defeat. f It is proper to state, that after the broadside, the action on the part of the Constitution was continued by one gun at a time — but in such rapid succession, that the captain of the Guer- riere believed her to be on fire ; and in consequence ordered a momentary suspension of operations. 206 OLD TICONDEROGA. A PICTURE OFTHE PAST. In returnint;once to New England, from a visit to Niagara, I found myself, one summer's day, before noon, at Orwell, about forty miles from the southern extremity of lake Chaniplain, which has here the aspect of a river or a creek. We were on the Ver- mont shore, with a ferry of less than a mile wide, between us and the town of Ti, in New York. On the bank of the lake, within ten yards of the water, stood a pretty white tavern, with a piazza along its front. A wharf and one or two stores were close at hand, and appeared to have a good run of trade, foreign as widl as doniestick ; tlit; latter with Vermont fanners, the former with vessels plying be- tween Whitehall and the British dominions. Alto- gether, this was a pleasant and lively spot. I de- lighted in it, among other reasons, on account of the continual succession of travellers, who spent an idle quarter of an hour in wailing for the ferry-boat ; af- fording me just time enough to make their acquaint- ance, penetrate their mysteries, and be rid of them without the risk of tediousness on either part. The greatest attraction in this vicinity, is the famous old fortress of Ticonderoga ; the remains of which are visible from the piazza of the tavern, on a swell of land that shuts in the prospect of the lake. Those celebrated heights, moimt Defi.ince and mount Independence, familiar to all Americans in history, stand too prominent not to be recognised, though neither of them precisely correspond to the images to climb, and high enough to look into every comer of the fortress. St. Clair's most probable reason, however, for neglecting to occupy it, was the defi- ciency of troops to man the works already construct- ed, rather than the supposed inaccessibility of mount Defiance. It is singular that the French never for- tified this height, standing as it does in the quarter v.hence they must have looked for the advance of a British army. In my first view of the ruins, I was favoured with the scientifick guidance of a young lieutenant of en- gineers, recently from West Point, where he had gained credit for great military genius. I saw nothing but confusion in what chiefly interested him ; straight lines and zigzags, defence within de- fence, wall opposed to wall, and ditch intersecting ditch ; oblong squares of masonry below the surface of the earth, and huge mounds, or turf-covered hills of stone, above it. On one of these artificial hillocks, a pine tree has rooted itself, and grown tall and strong, since the banner-staff was levelled. But where my unmilitary glance could trace no regular- ity, the young lieutenant was perfectly at home. — He fathomed the meaning of every ditch, and form- ed an entire plan of the fortress from its half obliter- ated lines. His description of Ticonderoga would be as accurate as a geometrical theorem, and as bar- ren of the poetry that has clustered round its decay. I viewed Ticonderoga as a place of ancient strength, excited by their names. In truth, the whole scene, j in ruins for half a century ; where the flags of three except the interiour of the fortress, disapjjointed me. 1 nations had successively waved, and none waved Mount Defiance, which one pictures as a steep, | now ; where armies had struggled, so long ago that lofty, and rugged hill, of the most formidable aspect, 1 the bones of the slain are mouldered ; where peace frowning down with the grim visage of a precipice ! had found a heritage in the forsaken haunts of war. on old Ticonderoga, is merely a long and v/ooded Now the young West-Pointer, with his lectures on ridge ; and bore, at some former period, the gentle : ravelins, counterscarps, angles, and covered ways, name of Sugar Hill. The brow is certainly difJicult made it an affair of brick and mortar and hewn 207 stone, arranged on certain regular principles, hav- ing a good deal to do with mathematicks but nothing at all with poetry. I should have been glad of a hoary veteran to totter by my side, and tell me, perhaps, of the French garrisons and their Indian allies, of Abercrombie, Lord Howe and Amherst ; of Ethan Allen's triumph and St. Clair's suiTender. The old soldier and the old fortress would be emblems of each other. His reminiscences, though vivid as the image of Ticon- deroga in the lake, would harmonize with the gray influence of the scene. A survivor of the long-dis- banded garrisons, though but a private soldier, might have mustered his dead chiefs and comrades, some from Westminster Abbey, and the English church-yards and battle-fields in Europe, others from their graves here in America ; others, not few, ■who lie sleeping round the fortress ; he might have mustered them all, and bid them march through the ruined gateway, turning their old historick faces on me as they passed. Next to such a companion, the best is one's own fancy. At another visit I was alone, and, after rambling all over the ramparts, sat down to rest myself in one of the roii^fiess barracks. These are old French structures, and appear to have occupied three sides of a large area, now overgrown with grass, nettles, and thistles. The one in which I sat, was long and narrow, as all the rest had been, with peaked gables. The ex- teriour walls were nearly entire, constructed of gray, flat, unpicked stones, the aged strength of which promised long to resist the elements if no other vio- lence should precipitate their fall. The roof, floors, partitions, and the rest of the woodwork, had prob- ably been burnt, except some bars of stanch old oak, which were blackened with fire, but still re- mained imbedded into the window-sills and over the doors. There were a few particles of plastering near the chimney, scratched with rude figures, per- haps by a soldier's hand. A most luxuriant crop of weeds had sprung up within the edifice and hid the scattered fragments of the wall. Grass and weeds grew in the windows, and in all the crevices of the stone, climbing, step by step, till a turf of yellow flowers was waving on the highest peak of the ga- ble. Some spicy herb diffused a pleasant odour through the ruin. A. verdant heap of vegetation had covered the hearth of the second floor, clustering on the very spot where the huge logs had mouldered to glowing coals, and flourished beneath the broad flue, wliicli had so often pufled the smoke over a circle of French or English soldiers. I felt that there was no other token of decay so impressive as that bed of weeds in the place of the back-log. Here I sat, with those roofless walls about me, the clear sky over my head, and the afternoon sunshine falling gentlj' bright through the window-frames and doorway. I heard the tinkling of a cow-bell, the twittering of birds, and the pleasant hum of insects. Once a gay butterfly with four gold-speckled wings, came and fluttered about my head, then flew up and lighted on the highest tuft of yellow flowers, and at last took wing across the lake. Next a bee buzzed through the sunshine, and found much sweetness among the weeds. A fter watchinghim till he went off to his distant hive, I closed my eyes on Ticonderoga in ruins, and cast a dreamlike glance over pictures of the past, and scenes of which this spot had been the theatre. At first, my fancy saw only the jtern hills, lonely lakes, and venerable woods. Not a tree, since their seeds were first scattered over the infant soil, had felt the axe, but had grown up and flourished througli its long generation, had fallen beneath the weight of years, been buried in green moss, and nourished the roots of others as gigantick. Hark ! A light paddle dips into the lake, a birch canoe glides round the point, and an Indian chief has passed, painted and feather-crested, armed with a bow of hickory, a stone tomahawk, and flint-headed arrows. Kut the ripple had hardly vanished from the water, when a white flag caught the breeze, over a castle in the wilderness with frowning ramparts and a hundred cannon. There stood a French chevalier, com- mandant of the fortress, paying court to a copper- coloured lady, the princess of the land, and winning her wild love by the arts which had been successful with Parisian dames. A war-party of f^rench and Indians were issuing from the gate to lay waste some village of New England. Near the fortress there was a group of dancers. The merry soldiers footing it with the swart savage maids ; deeper in the wood, some red men were growing frantick around a cog of the fire-water ; and elsewhere a Jesuit preached the faith of high cathedrals beneath a canopy of forest boughs, and distributed crucifixes to be worn beside English scalps. I iried to make a series of pictures from the old French war, when fleets were on the lake and armies in the woods, and especially of Abercroin- bie's disasterous repulse, where thousands of lives were utterly thrown away ; but being at a loss how to order the battle, I chose an evening scene in the barracks after the fortress had surrendered to Sir Jeflrey Amherst. What an immense fire blazes on that hearth, gleam.ing on swords, bayonets, and mus- ket-barrels, and blending with the hue of the scarlet coats till the whole barrack-room is quivering with ruddy light ! One soldier has thrown himself down to rest, after a deer-hunt, or perhaps a long run through the woods, with Indians on his trail. Two stand up to wrestle, and are on the point of coming to blows. A fifer plays shrill accompaniment to a drummer's song ; a strain of light love and bloody war, with a chorus thundered forth by twenty voices. Meantime, a veteran in the corner is pro- sing about Dettingen and Fontenoye, and relates camp-traditions of Marlborough's battles , till his pipe, having been \igorously charged with gunpow- der, makes a terrible explosion under his nose. And now they all vanish in a pufl" of smoke from the chimney. I merely glanced at the ensuing twenty years, which had glided peacefully over the frontier for- tress, till Ethan Allen's shout was heard, summoning it to surrender "In the name of the great .fehovah and of the continental Congress." Strange allies ' thought the British captain. Next came the hurried muster of the soldiers of liberty, when the cannon of Burgoyne, putting down upon their stronghold from the brow of mount Defiance, announced a new conquerer of Ticonderoga. No virgin fortress, this ! Forth rushed the motly throng from the barracks, one m-.n wearing the blue and huff of the Union, another the red coat of Britain, a thii-d, a dragoon's jacket, and a fourth, a cotton frock ; here was a pair if leather breeches, and striped trousers there ; a 208 grenadier's cap on one head, and abroad-brimmed hat, with a tall feather, on the next ; this fellow shoul- dering a king's arm that might throw a bullet to Crown Point, and his comrade a long fowling- piece, admirable to shoot ducks on the lake. In the midst of the bustle, when the fortress was all alive with this last warlike scene, the ringing of a bell on the lake made me suddenly unclose my eyes, and behold only the gray and weed-grown ruins. They were as peaceful in the sun as a warrior's grave. Hastening to the rampart, I perceived that the sig- nal had been given by the steam-boat Franklin, which landed a passenger from Whitehall at the tavern, and resumed its progress northward, to reach Cana- da the next morning A sloop was pursuing the same track ; a little skiff had just crossed the ferrj' ; while a scow, laden with lumber, spread its huge square sail and went up the lake. The whole country was a cultivated farm. Within musket-shot of the ramparts lay the neat villa of Mr. Pell, who, since the revolution has become proprietor of a spot for which France, England, and America have so often struggled. How forcibly the lapse of time and change of circumstances came home to my apprehen- sion ! Tall trees had grown upon its ramparts, since the last garrison marched out, to return no more, or only at some dreamer's summons, gliding from the twilight past to vanish among realities. REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES. The following inte'estiiig pa.ssage from a private journal, never before published, has been communicated to the Plaits- burgh Kep\iblican. The author is a distinguished American traveller, who still lives to recall the proudly thrilling scene which he has so vividly sketched : — New Yorker. EXTRACT FROM THE JOURNAL OF . London, Thursday, Dec. 4, 1782. — The great, the glorious day has arrived, when our imcondition- al Independence will be solemnly recognised by George III. in the presence of God and man. Such, at last, are the well-earned fruits of a sangtiinary and eventful contest of eight long — long years, in which period one hundred thousand brave Americans have cemented, on the altar of their country, with their precious blood, a prize which will bless unborn mill- ions, and in its eventual eflects produce a new era over the entire surface of this benighted world. At an early hour, in conformity to previous ar- rangements, I had the honour to be conducted, by the earl of Ferers, to the very entrance of the house of lords. At the small door, he whispered softly into my ear : " Get as near the foot of the throne as possible — maintain your position — fear not." I did so with all the assurance of a travelled yankee, and found myself exactly in front of the throne, elbow to elbow with the celebrated admiral Lord Howe, wlto had just returned from a successful relief of Gibraltar. Tlie ladies of the nobility occupied the lords' seats on the woolsacks, so called, as an emblem of the power and wealth of Old England, because that it has been mainly derived from wool. The lords were standing here and there promiscuously as I entered. It was a dark foggy day — a proper En- glish hanging day. To add to its gloomy eflects, the old Saxon windows stand high up, with leaden bars to contain the diainond cut panes of glass. The walls were also hiuig with dark tapestry, rep- resenting the defeat of the great Spanish Armada in 1588. I had the pleasure of recognising the celebrated American painters, West and Copley, and some American ladies in the group — all rebels at heart — intermixed with many American royalists, some of whom were my near relatives, with long dejected faces, and rage and despair depicted in every lineament of their features. How opposite were our feelings ! After standing for two hours in painful suspense, the approach of the king was an- nounced by a tremendous roar of cannon. He en- tered the same small door on the left of the throne, and immediately seated himself in the chair of state, decorated in his royal robes, in a graceful, formal and majestick posture, with his right foot resting on a stool. He was evidently agitated ; and drew slow- ly from his pocket a scroll containing his humiha- ting speech. I was exactly in his front, six or eight feet distant, with my left foot braced upon the last step of the throne, to sustain my position from the pressure in my rear, and critically watched, with the eye of a Lavater, at that moment, every emotion of his agitated countenance. He began : — " My Lords and Gentlemen :" and in direct refer- ence to our independence said — " I lost no time in giving the necessary orders to prohibit the farther prosecution of ofl'ensive war upon the continent of North America. " Adopting as my inclination will always lead me to do, with decision and effect, whatever I collect to be the sense of my parliament, and my people ; I have pointed all my views and measures in Europe, as in North America to an entire and cordial recon- ciliation with the Colonies. Finding it indispen- sable to the attainment of this object, 1 did not hesi- tate to go the full length of the power vested in me, and therefore I now declare them" — (here he paused, and hesitated for a moment, and was in evident agitation — the pill he had to swallow in the next breath was repugnant to his digestive organs. In 1775, he repelled our humble petition with indignity — but in 1782, he found hitnself prostrate at our feet ;) he recovered himself by a strong convulsive effort and proceeded thus :— " I declare them Jree and independent stales. In thus admitting their separation from the crown of their kingdom, I have sacrificed ever}- consideration of my own to the wishes and opinions of my people. I make it ray humble and ardent prayer to .\lmighty God, that Great Britain may not feel the evils which might re.sult from so great a dismemberment of the empire and that America may be free from the calamities which have formerly proved in the northern country how essential monarchy is to the enjoyment of con- stitutional liberty. Religion, language, interests, and afieclion may, and I hope will yet prove a bond of perinament union between the two countries." It is impossible to describe the sensations of ray rel)ellioiis mind, at the moment when the king hesi- tated to pronotmce the words — free and independent ! and to notice with what a bad grace he had to swal- low the dose : every artery was in full play, and heat high in unison with my proud .American feel- ings. — It was impossible not to revert my eyes across the Atlantick and review in rapid succession, the miseries and wretchedness I had witnessed m several stages of the war, prior to my leaving 209 America — the wide-spread desolation, resulting from the obstinacy of this very man— turning a deaf ear to our humble appeals to his justice and mercy, as if a god — but now prostrate in his turn. In his speech he tells us in one breath that he has sacri- ficed every personal consideration, in other words, not yet satiated with innocent blood shed b)' his Indian allies ; and in the next, hypocritically invo- king high heaven to guard us against calamities, &c. The great drama is now closed — the ball was open- ed at Lexington, where the British red-coats were taught to dance down to Charlestown, to the tune of " Yankee-Doodle." On this occasion it fell also to my lot to march from Providence, R. I., with a company of seventy-five well-disciplined young men, all dressed in scarlet, on our way to Lexington, with packs on our backs ; but they had fled before we could reach the scene of action. From the house of lords, I proceeded to Mr. Cop- ley's dwelling in Leicester-square, to dine ; and, through my ardent solicitation, he mounted the American stripes on a large painting in his gallery the same day — the first which ever waved in tri- umph in England.* In leaving the house of lords, I jostled in side by side with West and Copley — enjoying the rich polit- ical repast of the day, and noticing, with silent grat- ification, the anguish and despair of the tories. In the house of commons, the ensuing day, there was not much debate, but a good deal of acrimony. Commodore Johnston attacked Lord Howe's expedi- tion to Gibraltar, because he had not gained a de- cisive victory over the combined fleet ol forty-five sail of the line, with thirty-seven ships. Burke then rose, indulging in a vein of satire and ridicule, a severe attack on the king's speech the day previous on the subject of American independence — saying it was a farrago of nonsense and hypocrisy. Young Pitt, the newly created chancellor of the exchequer, then rose, and handled Burke with dignified severity, charging him with buftbonery and levity. Having received from Alderman Wood a card of adnussion to the gallery of the house of commons, as the house was about rising, the Alderman (who is a member) came into the gallery and invited me to descend with him to the floor of the house. 1 met Mr. Burke, with whom I had breakfasted, who introduced me as a messenger of peace to Pitt, Con- way, Fox, Sheridan, and two or three other mem- bers grouped on the floor. I never felt more eleva- ted in my life. — In describing this scene to a friend in France, in a moment of exultation, I subjoined : — " Figure to yourself, my dear friend, a young American traveller of twenty-four, in the full gaudy dress of a Parisian, hailed in the publick papers, and standing on the floor of the British house of commons, (where the destiny of dear America in its infancy has been so often agitated,) as a messen- ger of peace, surrounded by a group, the brightest constellation of political men that ever graced the annals of English history ! — and, what is more grat- ifying to my American pride, the very men, with one exception, who have recently compelled the ♦ Note— 1833— Dining frequently at Copley's I noticed an un- common smart lad, who is now trie celebrated Lord Lyndhurst, Lord Chancellor of England— the son of an American painter. His mother was a Miss Clark of Boston ; his father, one of the tea consignees, a great tory— then residing with Copley. 27 tyrant George to yield with a bad grace to all oui just dem:inds, in my presence ! Not to have beef thus aflected at that tremendous crisis, I should have been more or less than a man." INDLiNS IN THE UNITED ST.A.TES. We have taken pains to make out alphabetically, from official documents before us, a list of all the tribes within the American territory. Italics, are used in the names of tribes resident west of the Mississippi. — The numberunderthe letter W., shows how many of the tribe named, have emigrated to the west of the river, and the numberunderthe letter E., shows how many remains on the east — the whole corrected to February last, since which time to the present date, July 18th, 1836, not less than 5,000 have emigrated, or are in the act cf doing so. Names of tribes, (^c. E. W. Apalachicolas, 340 2G5 Arickaras, estimated not to exceed 3,000 Assinaboins, 8.000 Arepahas, Keawas, <^c 1,400 Black feet, along the upper Mis- souri, &c. 30,000 Caddoes, estimated at 800 Choctaws, west of the state of Ar- kansas and between Red river and the Canadian, 3,500 15,003 CAayennci, south oftheGros Ventres, 2,000 Camanc/ies, on the confines of the republick of Texas, but there are supposed in the United States, 7,000 Cherokees, between lat. 30, and lat. 37, west of the Arkansas, and east of Texas lands, 10,000 5,000 Chicasaws, will have no lands allot- ed them, 5.429 Chippewas, 6,793 Chippewas, Ottowas, and Potawat- omies, 8,000 Crees, estimated at 3,000 Creeks, east of Texas, north of the Canadian, and along the north forkof the same, 22,668 2,459 Crow, estimated too high, we think at, 45,000 Delawares, north of the Kansas tribe, 826 Foxes, computed to be not exceed- ing 1,600 Gros Ventres, or Big Bellies, be- tween the south fork of the Platte and Arkansas, 3,000 Indians of the state of New York, 4,716 Indians from New York, at Green- bay, Michigan, 725 loways, near the Missouri, and in the south of Wisconsin territory, in lat. 40°, 1,200 Kansas, on Kansas river, in lat. 39°, 1,471 Kickapoos, between the Delawares and the Missouri river, in lat. 39° and Ion. 18°, 470 Mandans, on the upper Missouri, 15,000 Menomonies, in Wisconsin terri- tory, 4,200 Minetarees, estimated, too high, we think, at 15,000 210 Osages, properly Wausawshies, on both sides of the Arkansas, lat. 37° 30' Ion. 20 to 21 west : they are north of the Cherokees, 5,420 Omahas, west of Council bluffs, be- tween the Platte and the Mis- souri ; lat. 42°, 1,400 Ottoes and Missourias, south of the Omahas, 1,600 Ottowas, in lat. 38° 30', and Ion. 18° west ; south of the Shawa- nees, 200 Ottowas and Chippewas of lake Michigan, 530 Pawnees, on Platte river, lat. 41- 42", and Ion. 21-22°, west of Washington, 10,000 Peorias and Kaskaskias, east of, and adjoining the Ottowas, 132 Piankesbaws, on Osage river, east of, and adjoining the Peorias, 162 Poncas, estimated at 800 Potawatomies, in lat. 42°, east of the Missouri, and west of Des Moines river, 1,400 141 Qtcapaws, on the Neosho, near lat. 37° and Ion. 18° west, 450 Sacs, in Wisconsin territory, 4,800 Sacs, of the Missouri, 500 Shawanees, south of the Kansas, 1,200 Senecas from Sandusky, south of Quapaws, 251 Senecas and Shawnees, do. do. 211 Seminoles, ])art now at the fork of the Canadian and its north fork, north of the Choctaw lands ; east of the Creeks, 2,420 Sioux, in Wisconsin territory, 27,500 Wyandots in Ohio and Michigan, 623 Winnebagoes, on the Mississippi, in Wisconsin territory, 4,591 Weas, with the Piankeshaws, 60 222 Totals, 76,465 216,063 Aggregate number of Indians, 292,528. INDIAN TERRITORY. The following table exhibits, as nearly as we are able to say, at present, the number of square miles allotted to certain tribes, with the population of each, when all who remain on the east, shall have emi- grated to the west of the Mississippi : — TEIBES. EQ. MILES. Choctaws, 23,440 Creeks and Seminoles, 20,531 Delawares, 3,450 Kaskaskias and Peorias, 1 50 Kickapoos, 1,262 Ottowas, 53 Piankeshaws and Weas, 250 Quapaws, 150 Shawnese, 2,500 Senecas and Shawanees, 156 POPULATION. 18,503 27,547 826 132 470 200 222 450 1,250 211 Totals, 51,942 49,811 These Indians, having 640 acres or more to every warrior, squaw and papoose, besides annuities, equal to the interest on millions of dollars, can hard- ly be called poor ; if so, they enjoy a poverty, which, if proportioned for all the people of our Union, would give us half the habitable world for our share. If the United States pursues a course as liberal, with respect to all the Aborigines within our limits, there will yet remain two millions of square miles for us — Enough to make up fifty states, and to sustain "FIVE HUNDRED MILLIONS OF SOULS !" (From the Southern Literary Journal.] THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. The belief which prevailed among the early adventurers of the Portuguese and Spanish nations, that there existed, somewhere among the recesses of the New World, a fountain, the waters of which, when drank from, had the virtue of giving perpetual youth to those who did so, has been made the suljject of frequent story. The tradition itself is lovely in the extreme, and will, doubtless, be one day made available by some high genius, who shall link its golden promises to the richest strains of harmony and romance. 'Twas a fond dream among the Portuguese, Tliose rovers of old ocean, that, afar, Embosom'd in the calm of Indian seas, And hallow'd by some sweet and singular star, There murmur'd ever forth a cooling wave. Whose waters, troubled not by human strife, By the kind Destinies ordain'd to save, Bcijueath'd, to all who drank, perpetual life. Nor life alone — that narrow boon of breath. The nobler spirit learns so soon to scorn That profitless flow of years which end in death. Ere yet the joy they labour for is born : — But, at that OTacious fount, the broken heart. Each wreck'd affection, sternly tried, but true. And loves that ran not smooth, and forced apart. One draught makes whole, one draught unites anew. The heart grows young, the spirit quails no more. By that false star which bhnded, still misled — Lo 1 the good vessel finds the friendly shore. While lights, more bright and certain, shine o'erheadj— The pilgrim seeks, and gladdens at, that spring, Whicti the bland seasons, from their fruitful storey Crown with each blooming and each blessed thing, Hope ever dream'd, or rapture knew, before. A bird of beauty sings among the trees, A silver strain, inviting, ever sweet — The waters ripple in the murmuring breeze. That, to the minstrel, is an echo meet. Their ditty is a soothing to the ear, The tale they murmur hath a power to calm The chiding pulse of love, the heart of fear — And those sweet waters, they are full of balm. Was tliy fond plan of boyhood wild — untaught By sage experience, and reflection cool 7— Did thy warm passions bani.sh the tnie thought. Till, grown to phrensy, folly seized the rule: And, blidit was in thy bosom and thy brain, And death seemed sweet, and life grew dark lii;e nights Thou art not hopeless ! — thou shalt jov again. Blessed by these waters with eternal light ! Wast thou a dreamer? Hadst thou in thy heart Some pregnant fancy, which became, at length, Of thy own spirit and wild sense, a part. Born at thy birth and strengthening with thy strengtk And did stern Time, and still relentless Truth, Uob thee of thy delusion, when late years Had taught thee, what a credulous thing is youth? — Drink of these waters and forget thy tears. Had thy stern Fortune interposed to blast The growing buds of Nature, and to burst The pacred mould in which twin hearts are cast. Each wedded to the other from the first — Or was she false, who pledged herself lo be. Even to the last, through every change, to prove The witness of a dealWoss faith to thee? — Drink, and forget the ttise, in firmer, love! Oh, give me of those waters ! Let me haste To dwell upon their verdant banks, and find. Upon my fcver'd lips, a fresher taste, And a new feeling for my baffled mind. Oh. let me all forget ! — the dreary hours, The faithless love, the fond, unfruitful dreams- Reposing on its banks of living flowers. And quaffing freel y of its sacred streams. 211 REVOLUTIONARY REMINISCENCES. The following account of a traitor and spy, from the pen of Joseph L. Chester, Esq., was first published some years since in the Brooklyn (L.I.) Advocate. Mr. Chester has collected, with much care, a large amount of information concerning the war of the Revolution, from the lips of vete- ran soldiers still living. Such information, though it may not add very important items to our na- tional history, yet it contributes largely to that fund of incident from which is yet to be gleaned the materials for the establishment of an Ameri- can national literature. Joseph, or as he was more laconically called, Joe Bettys, the hero of the following sketch, was a renegaido from the American army, and bore a conspicuous part in the border difficulties durin the few first years of the revolution. In a letter which I have before me, from one of the survivors of those times, and who was himself a sufferer from the treason and consequent barbarities of Bettys, he is described as an " athletic, bold, and daring young man, with a heavy share of deviltry in his composition." The life of any one who may an- swer to this description, will be sure to be event- ful, but that of the present subject was so in no ordinary degree. Bettys was the representative of a class, by far too numerous, whose members, during the revo- lutionary struggle, deserted from the ranks of their country's forces, and, if they did not abso- lutely take up arms against their brethren, they at least left no means of annoyance untried, and scrupled at no acts of hostility even toward those who were allied to them by natural as well as by social ties. The annals of border warfare are rife with accounts of the depredations of these ma- rauders, who usually formed themselves into clans or hordes, though they claimed not those distinc- tive appellations, and made by common and tacit consent, the most daring and powerful their leader. This latter personage was a kind of prince amid his band, and exercised all the powers of sov- ereignty that such lieges or vassals would natu- rally acknowledge. The principal employment of these clans con- sisted in making captives of those who were avowedly inimical to the king, and bearing them to the British camp, or more frequently into Can- ada. For every prisoner so delivered, a premium or bounty was bestowed on the captors, thus in- ducing them to make more strenuous exertions, to become less affected by the ties of relation- ship, and to devote their whole time and energies to the destruction of those altar-fires which had just begun to burn freely in the wilderness. A small party of Indians often accompanied them on their predatory incursions, which were usually made in the night, for the purpose of striking ter- ror upon the unsuspecting victims, as the appear- ance even of a solitary savage always created confusion throughout the little settlements. Joseph Bettys was the leader of one of these hordes, and for his daring exploits deserves more notice than has ever been awarded to him by his- torians. The history of his life is that of a great portion of his contemporaries. Wilton, a small parish in the county of Fairfield and state of Connecticut, claims the honor of be- ing the birthplace of this personage, and also of fostering him during his earlier years. I have no means of arriving at the precise day or year of his birth, and it is a matter of no great importance. He probably spent the first fifteen or eighteen years of his life in the place of his nativity. His character at this early period, as described by one of his playmates, now living, was notoriously bad. He was a tyrant as soon as he was able to exercise the powers of tyranny. He was wilful, headstrong, disobedient to parental authority, overbearing, hasty, and ill-tempered, and in the words of the letter, "as great a scoundrel as ever breathed." I believe that the same description has been given to the earlier days of most who have been notoriously bad in their latter lives — for instance, Arnold, the traitor, and others of his class. It seems that these exhibitions are those of a nature naturally depraved, and that some evil spirits are permitted to dwell in human bodies from the beginning. In about the year 1772 the family of Bettys re- moved to the present town of Ballston in the county of Saratoga, then one of the border-settle- ments. Joe Bettys was about eighteen years of age, "full of spite and malice," and was in a very short time placed in bonds by the court as secu- rity for his future good behavior. This seemed at first to operate upon his feelings, and was a degradation to which his independent spirit could not brook ; but he eventually conquered the exhi- bition of his feelings, and remained in Ballston , until the month of March, in the year 1776. At this time, by the influence of one John Ball, then second-lieutenant, but afterward a colonel in the revolutionary army, he enlisted as a sergeant un- der Captain Samuel Van Veghten, in the regiment of New York forces, commanded by Colonel Cor- nelius Wincoop. In this capacity he served his country faithfully, until the summer of the same year, when being abused, unprovokedly, as he maintained, by an officer of superior rank, he re- torted with threats and menaces, and was in con- sequence by a court-martial, reduced to do duty as a private sentinel. This was too much for him to bear, and Lieutenant Ball, who had before be- friended him, conscious that his desertion would prove a great loss to the Americans, and a great gain to the enemy, endeavored to sooth his irri- tated spirit, and applied to General Waterbury, who then commanded the troops at Skenesbo- rough, who readily gave him the appointment of sergeant on board one of the vessels on lake Champlain, commanded by General Arnold. It may be a matter of conjecture whether the seeds of treason were not then sown in his heart by this ill-fated man. But he showed no symptoms of dissatisfaction, and was as brave a man as any in the fleet. By the testimony of General Water- bury, he was the bravest man in action that this officer had ever seen. After every commissioned officer on board the ship on which Bettys was stationed was killed, and the vessel badly crip- 212 pled, he assumed the command and fought brave- ly until General Waterbury seeing that the ship was likely to sink, ordered the survivors to aban- don her and come on board his own. They did so, and the general having marked the gallant conduct of Bettys, and being himself much ex- hausted, placed him at his side on the quarter- deck, and made him his organ until obliged to strike his colors and yield the victory. Yet for all this Bettys received no other notice than the thanks of his general, which ought to have been sufficient for a true patriot. But Bettys thought otherwise, and determined to retaliate for the supposed slight which he had received. Sometime during the spring of 1777, Bettys de- serted the standard of his country, and passing over into Canada, joined the British forces. In a very short time he was elevated to the rank of a spy, and frequently returned, even to his own set- tlement, with a band whom he had selected, and making his former acquaintances his prisoners, bore tiiem ofl' into Canada. About this time one Samuel Patchin, afterward a captain in the army, of whom I have had occasion before to speak, became a prisoner and victim to the consequent barbarities of Bettys. This old veteran is still living, and the following account of his captivity and subsequent hardships, I have in substance in his own handwriting : — " I was captured by Bettys and party," says the letter, " in the year '81, and taken to Canada. I was there put in irons, and confined in Chambly ! prison. 1 was the only prisoner whom he had on this e.vcursion brought to Canada. There were six or seven more of my neighbors when we started, to whom he gave the oatii of allegiance, and sent them back. As for myself, he said I had served congress long enough, and that I should now serve the king. He wished me to enlist in his company, but soon found that this was not agree- able to my feelings. He then swore that if I would not serve the king I should remain in irons. I was confined in Chambly prison four months; then I was removed to .Montreal, and from thence to an island forty-five miles up the St. Lawrence, opposite Cadalake fort. There I remained about one year. There were five prisoners in all, and we were guarded by sixty soldiers ! — seven sen- tries at night. They had left no boats on the island by which we might make our escape, yet we all crawled out of the barracks one night, and went to the riverside, there we made a raft by means of two or three logs and our suspenders, on which we sailed down the river five miles, when we landed on the Canada shore. There we appropriated to our own use a boat belonging to the British, and crossed over to the American shore. While go- ing down the rapids, we had lost our little stock of provisions, and for eight days out of twelve which we spent in the woods we had nothing to eat save frogs and rattlesnakes, and not half enough of them. We were chased eight days by the Indians, and slept every night on the boughs of some hemlock trees. At length we arrived at Northwest Bay, on lake Champlain, when my companions, unable longer to travel, utterly gave out I then constructed a raft on which to cross the lake, and having stripped my companions of their clothing, in order to make myself comforta- ble, left them to die of hunger and fatigue, and committed myself to the wintry waves. When in about the centre of the lake, I was taken by the crew of a British ship, and conveyed to St. John's, from thence to Quebec, and finally to Boston, where I was exchanged and sent home." The above is but an account of what happened to many. Bettys seemed to take especial delight in making prisoners of his own townsmen, and particularly those toward whom he cherished any grudge, such as the officers of the court before whom he had been cited, not omitting even the members of his own family. It seems that on one occasion he made a fearful mistake. Having ta- ken one whom he supposed to be the object he sought, and his prisoner having found an opportu- nity to escape, he deliberately shot him dead, and then discovered that he had killed one of his best friends. The rock on which he fell is shown by the inhabitants of Ballston, and a dark stain is yet to be seen upon it, which the common people assert to be the blood of the ill-fated man. During these excursions Bettys did not always escape danger. On one occasion he was taken, tried, condemned, and sentenced to be executed as a spy at West Point. But it seemed his good fortune to escape, for, on the humble petition of his aged father, supported by a number of the most respectable whigs in Ballston, he was par- doned by the commander-in-chief General Wash- ington. No sooner was he at liberty, however, than he returned to Canada and again renewed the practices to which he had been so long ad- dicted. He received the appointment of ensign in one of the British Levy regiments, but was seldom in action, as his complicated employments of spy and "catcher of men," occupied his whole time. He scrupled not, in company with one Walter Myers, a congenial spirit, to attack the dwellings of the greatest in the colonies. Old GenerafV^an Rensselaer at one time very narrow- ly escaped captivity, and actually lost a great part of his valuable family plate. After his first cap- ture and trial by the Americans, Bettys scrupled not at bloodshed, and became even more sangui- nary than before. "But it pleased God," (in the words of an old manuscript,) "to put an end to his bloody career, and bring him at length to final condemnation and death." I have before me the original account of his capture and subsequent treatment, drawn up by one of his captors, and as it is a narrative full of simplicity, and at the same time gives a concise history of the fortunate individuals, who have nevertheless received no credit from their coun- try for their bold and daring feat, I cannot forbear to give it in substance. It constitutes the affida- vit on which an application was sometime since made for a pension to be given to the old vete- ran, and is as follows : . . ( i, sixty-eight years, a native of the town of Rhine- beck, in the county of Dutchess, and state of New York aforesaid, do make oath as follows : — " State of New York, Saratoga County, m. i i. Jacob Fulmer, ajred 213 "My father, John Fulmer, moved to Clifton Park, in the town of Halfmoon, and then county of Albany, in about the year 1773, and purchased a farm of one hundred and thirty acres about one mile from the foot of Ballston or Long Lake, on which he resided with his family. I was then about fifteen years of age. " In the winter of 1781-2, my father had a sap- bush about one mile south from where we resided, which I usually tended during the season for man- ufacturing maple-sugar. My father being an old man, and not able to do hard labor, would some- times, with the assistance of my sisters, tend the kettles at the bush, while I performed the neces- sary work at the house. " One day early in the month of March, I was engaged on the farm in conveying some stalks from a stack in the field to the barn, while my father with my two young sisters were at the bush. It was early in the forenoon, and after I had unloaded the stalks and turned out the horses, I entered the house, where I was met by my sis- ters, who came running in the greatest haste, and informed me that my father requested me to come to the bush immediately, as a man, armed, with a pack on his back, and snowshoes under his arm, had passed by the bush ; who, said they, " father says, is an enemy." I went immediately to John Cory, a near neighbor, whom I knew to be a whig, a true fellow, and a good man for our country, and requested him to go with me in pursuit of the supposed tory. With him were James Cory, his brother,and Francis Perkins, all good, true-heart- ed fellows. Having told them what my sisters had said, they all agreed to go with me in pursuit of him, and we started immediately, running like hounds for the sap-bush. When we reached it, my father showed us the track of the man in the snow, which had fallen two or three inches the night before, and rendered his footsteps distinctly visible. The morning had been foggy, and it ap- peared by the track that the man had made a circuitous route, as if lost or bewildered. After making several turns, we came at length in sight of a log house, where one Hawkins, a noted tory, lived, toward which it appeared he had laid a regular line. We followed the track and found that it went into the house. We approached un- discovered, for the snow was soft and our foot- steps were not heard. We went up to the door and found it was fastened, but heard people talk- ing within. " John Cory, who was the strongest of the par- ty, now went forward, we foUowmg closely be- hind, and burst open the door. The man, who was the object of our suspicions and search, sat at the table eating his breakfast, with the muzzle of his gun leanmg upon his shoulder, and the breech upon the floor between his legs. He grasped his musket and presented it to fire at us, but was hin- dered for a moment to remove the deer-skin cov- ering from the lock, and that moment cost his life. We seized him, took possession of his gun and also two pistols, which he had in his coat pock- ets, and a common jackknife. We then bound his arms behind him with a pocket handker- chief, and conveyed him to my father's house. As yet we knew not the name of our prisoner, but having asked him, he said, 'My name is Smith.' "My mother knew him, and said, 'It is Joe Bettys.' He hung his head, and said, ' No, my name is Smith.' My sister Polly then came to the door and said ' This is Joe Bettys. — I know him well.' She had known him before he went to Canada, as he had boarded at Lawrence Van Eps, in Schenectady Patent, while she lived in the same house. '' We then conveyed him to John Cory's house, about a quarter of a mile distant, where we pin- ioned him more firmly. He sat down m a chair by the fire, and asked permission to smoke, which was granted, and he then took out his tobacco- box, and seemed to be engaged in filling his pipe, but, as he stooped down, under pretence of light- ing it, he threw something toward the fire, which bounded from the forestick and fell upon the hearth. He then seized it and threw it into the fire before any one could prevent. John Cory then snatched it from the fire with a handful of live coals. It was not injured. It was a piece of lead about three inches long and one and a quarter inches wide, pressed together, and con- tained within it a small piece of paper on which were twenty-six figures, which none of our com- pany could understand. It also contained an or- der drawn on the mayor of the city of New York for thirty pounds sterling, payable on the delivery of the sheet-lead and paper enclosed. Bettys showed much uneasiness at the loss of the lead, and offered us one hundred guineas to allow him to burn the paper. This we refused, for, though we did not understand the figures, we well knew the character of Joe Bettys, as I had heard that he had killed two men at Skenesborough, now Whitehall, for fear of being betrayed in regard to the burning and plundering of a house in Caugh- nawaga, and that he was generally known as a spy. I knew, and my companions also knew, that he was the same Joe Bettys, who, with one Wal- ter Myers, had stolen into our neighborhood and carried off the whigs into Canada, and that many of them were then in Canada sufl"ering most cruel treatment. He had, at one time, attempted to capture both my brother and myself, but we suc- ceeded in eluding his grasp. "When Bettys found that the paper would neither be destroyed nor returned to him, he said ' It will take my life.' While we remained at Co- ry's with our prisoner, a number of our tory neighbors came in to see him, and we, deeming it unsafe to let them know the precise route which we should take in conveying him to Albany, for fear that they would attempt a rescue, told them that we should go by the way of Schenectady. " About three o'clock in the same afternoon we started with our prisoner for Albany. We were all armed and prepared for a surprise. I tied his arms behind him, and also another rope into that rope as it crossed his back, by which I led him on. and my three companions followed closely behind. We travelled eastward, leaving our in- quisitive tory neighbors to guess our route, and arrived at the borough on Hudson river before dai'k. Here we found ourselves safe among friends, who were rejoiced that the noted Bettys was ta- 214 ken, and gave us every necessary supply during our stay. About thirty good fellows stayed with us 10 guard the prisoner during the night. In the morning, after breakfast, we moved on in the or- der of the preceding day, passed down the west side of the Hudson seven or eight miles to Lan- sing's ferry, then crossed to the east side and passed down to Troy, and from thence crossed again to the west side and hurried on to Albany, for fear that night and the tories should overtake us. But fortunately our friends at Albany had heard of the capture of Joe Bettys and of our at- tempt to convey him there, and a company of officers and other gentlemen, mounted and w'ell armed with swords and carbines, met us about two or three miles from the city. They divided into four ranks ; one stationed in front, one in the rear, and one on each side of the prisoner. I still continued to lead him with the rope, and in this manner we entered the city, and were con- ducted into the house of an officer. The doors being closed, the prisoner, myself, and compan- ions were examined by the officers. The paper taken from him at Cory's was also examined, and the figures explained by one of the officers, but I do not recollect the explanation. "After the examination they ordered us to convey him to the jail, which we did in the same manner that we came from the Flatt after the company met us. The streets were crowded with spectators anxious to see the noted Bettys, but they were kept out by the guards, and not allow- ed to come within the ring. Bettys appeared much mortified, and said to me : ' The people gather as though King George was passing through the streets.' I replied : ' They are glad to see you.' We delivered him to the keeper of the prison, and the same day set out for home. "About fourteen days after this, we were all or- dered to appear at a court then sitting in the city of Albany, to give evidence against the said Jo- seph Bettys, he being then and there tried on the charge of being a British spy. He was found guilty, sentenced to be hung, and was according- ly executed about the first of April following, his "JACOB X FULMER. mark. 'Sworn and subscribed to, the third of Februa- ry, 1827. " Thomas Palmer, "Justice of the Peace, in and for the county of Saratoga." Thus lived and died the celebrated Joe Bettys. A parallel might be drawn between the circum- stances of this capture and that of the ill-fated Andre. But the two names ought not to be men- tioned in the same breath. Andre was taken un- armed and unresistingly. A little child might almost have led him. But Bettys was a despe- rado, well armed, and resisted as far as he was able. Yet the captors of the former have been lauded with praises and the honors of their coun- try, while those of the latter have gone down to their graves unnoticed and unhonored. The names of Fulmer, Cory, and Perkins, are full as musical as those of Paulding, Williams and Van Wart. The moral is, that "Republics are some- times ungrateful.' STANZAS. The author of the following lines is the R^-v. tA • oa t( ■. a native of Plymouth. New Hampshire, and a gi-dtl^U it Dartmouth college. They were written in his sixteenth yeat. There was a lyre, 't is said, that hung High waving in the summer air ; An angel hand its chords had strung. And left to breathe in music there. Each wandering breeze that o'er it flew Awoke a wilder, sweeter strain, Than ever shell of mermaid blew In coral grottoes of the main. When, springing from the rose's bell. Where all night long he'd sweetly slept, The zephyr left the flowery dell. Bright with the tears that morning wept ; He rose, and o'er the trembling lyre Waved lightly his soft azure wing; What touch such music could inspire ! What harp such lays of joy could sing ' The murmurs of the shaded rills. The birds that sweetly warbled by And the soft echo from the hills. Were heard not where that harp was nigh. When the last light of fading day Along the bosom of the west, In colors softly mingled lay. While night had darkened all the rest, There, softer than that fading light. And sweeter than the lay that rung Wild through the silence of the night. As solemn Philomela sung, That harp its plaintive murmurs sighed, Along the dewy breeze of even ; So clear and soft they swelled and died. They seemed the echoed songs of Heaven. Sometimes, when all the air was still. And not the poplar's foliage trembled, That harp was nightly heard to thrill. With tones, no earthly tones resembled. And then upon the moon's pale beams Unearthly forms were seen to stray, W hose starry pinions' trembling gleams Would oft around the wild harp play. But soon the bloom of summer fled — In earth and air it shone no more ; Each flower and leaf fell pale and dead. While skies their wintry sternness wore. One day, loud blew the northern blast — The tempest's fury raged along — Oh ! for some angel, as they passed. To shield the harp of heavenly song ! It shrieked ! — how could it bear the touch, The cold, rude touch of such a storm, When e'en the zephyr seemed too much Sometimes, though always light and warm. It loudly shrieked, but ah ! in vain — The savage wind more fiercely blew ; Once more — it never shrieked again, For every chord was torn in two. It never thrilled with anguish more. Though beaten by the wildest blast ; The pang that thus its bosom tore. Was dreadful — but it was the last. And though the smiles of summer played Gently upon its shattered form. And the light zephyrs o'er it strayed, That lyre they could not wake or warm. 215 From the Christian Keepsake, for 1840. THE SOLITARY GRAVE— A SCENE ON THE OHIO BY REV. J. TODD. Beneath yon tree v.here rolls the flood — Ohio's gentle wave — There stands the stone, still marked by blood, And there, the stranger's grave. * * * It now rained in torrents, and I took shel- ter under the branches of a huge hemlock which stood near the river. Seated upon a decaying log, I was in a fair way to rest, and even to sleep, for not a drop of rain could penetrate the covering of the giant tree whose arms were spread over me. Just then the hunter's dog came bounding towards me, with ciieer- ful look and wag of the tud which seemed to say, 'you are just what I was looking for.' He opened his deep mouth, and a single bay brought his master to my side. His hard, weather-beaten, yet kind countenance lighted up, as he gave me his sinewy hand ; but the smile and the light passed away in a moment, as the heat Ughtning of summer will flash across the face of the cloud and be gone in an instant. I had never seen him so moody before, and ibr a long time sat silently watching him, to see if the clouds which I saw, were those which precede or those which follow the storm. In a short time the paddles and the machinery of a steamboat were heard, and in a few moments more she was in sight — a vast floating ark moving with amazing rapidity and grandeur. The shower had driven the passengers under cover, and though she was crowded with human beings, yet scarcely one was to be seen. I gazed upon it as I would upon a moving thing in a beautiful diorama — they were all strangers to me. It is astonishing to notice how dif- ferently we look at a moving steamboat full of entire strangers, from what we do if we know it contains one being whom we know and love ! The boat moved on, as heedless of the hunter, liis dog and my- self, as we could possibly be of her. We had not spoken a word since she came in sight ; but just as she rounded a point above and was going out of sight, the old man broke out — 'Ay, ay, she can double the point safely enough now, and go puffing on as proudly as a boy with a new rifle, but I have seen the day when she would not dare to go so near that point, or if she did she would be glad to be off at any rate. She's a grand creature though, and goes like a hound.' 'What are you thinking of, friend Rogers. What day are you thinking of, when that point was so dan- gerous ?; — The trees and the banks look to me as if there had been no great alteration here since your day.' ' No, no, the banks and the trees s\3.nAjust as they did. I said nothing about them ; but you yankees are always for skinning the bear before you have caught him, and this you call drawing inferences.' ' Well, well, I own I was on the wrong scent for this once ; but do tell me the story, for I cannot but draiv the inference that you have some story con- nected with that bend of the river.' At once the face of the old man became sad and melancholy. He was silent again, and I began to repent that I had pressed him. He leaned on his well-tried rifle, and I thought I could see his keen eye moisten. ' Did you notice that I felt bad when I came and found you here ?' ' Yes, I noticed that you were silent, but I did not know it was because you found me here, trying to keep me dry under this hemlock.' ' On the wrong scent again ! But, look this way. Do you see that grave down in that little hollow with a stone at is head ?' ' I do indeed, and wonder I had not seen it be- fore.' ' It's easy to see things when they are shown to us. I have pointed out many a deer to a young hun- ter when he was just going to see it, and wondered why he had not. But that grave, and that point, and my story are all connected. The story however is short, and now that we are here, I must think it all over again, and I may as well think aloud and let you hear it. ' It was many, many years ago, long before such a thing as a steamboat was heard of, or even dreamed of, that the event happened. I was young then, strong, and full of life and hope ; no one seeing me then, would have thought that I should ever become this withered old man.' ' As straight as a rifle, and as strong as a bufialo, and with an eye and an ear as keen as an eagle's,' said I. ' Yes, I can split a ball on the point of a knife at two hundred yards, but this will not be long. My hand sometimes trembles. But don't you talk if you want my story.' ' Go on, and 1 will not interrupt you again.' 'Well, it is now nearly forty years since I first saw the glorious Ohio. I shouted when I first saw it ; I have loved it ever since, and wlien I die, I hope I shall he buried on its banks. On a certain day I engaged to go down the river to Kentucky, with captain Ward, as he was removing his family from the east. The journey was lonsr, and at best would be tedious. I went as a kind of pilot, for I was well acquainted with the river, and all points of danger. The coun- try was full of Indians, and no settlements of any note had been made in Ohio. The whites and the Indians too, were continually making war upon each other. I do not know who was the most to blame. The whites killed the most, and the Indians were most cruel. We purchased an old, crazy, square- built boat, between forty and fifty feet long, and about eight or ten wide. We contrived to spike on a sin- gle pine plank on each gunnel, and this was the only tiling we had to defend us. We had a heavy load, furniture, baggage, horses, pigs, fowls and ploughs, besides nearly a dozen people. These consisted of the captain, his wife, and their young children, a widowed sister and son, besides several men to man- age the boat. When we left, we were fearful lest the Indians should attack us from the shore, but we knew that by keeping in the middle of the river, we should be beyond the reach of their rifles, or could be in a few moments. Thus we passed on for seve- ral days, till we supposed we were beyond the haunts of the Indians. One day, just at sunset, after we had become tired with rowing, we let our boat drift lazdy and carelessly along the current. We were just getting ready to put up for the night. The mother was promisir.g the children a good run on the shore. The widow was getting out the provisions, 1 and making arrangements for our supper. The cap 216 tain and his nephew had hold of the oars, and moved them oiilv just enoii!,'h to allow me lo steer the lioat.' 'Rogers,' said the captain, 'suppose we put in this side of that point, and tie our boat to one of those Wis trees, and there encamp for the night.' ' It's a right good ])lace, captain, and I like it. Re- sides, I thought a few moments ago, I heard wild turkeys over the hill, and 1 should like to have one for supper.' ' So we put in towards the shore, and had got with- in about fifty yards of that point around which the steamboat has just passed, when 1 heard a stick crack as if broken by the foot. 'A deer,' said the captain. ' No, no,' I shouted, ' row, row for life, or we are all dead.' 'At that instant, down rushed scores of Indians to the shore, with a shout that made the hills across the river echo it back again. The murderous creatures rushed down to the water's edge, and presented their guns, and opened a heavy fire upon us. In an instant the young man snatched his riile, and rising up his full length, fired at the nearest Indian, who had a shag- gy head-dress. The Indian fell, and so did the young man at the same instant. As he fell, his oar dropped overboard, and the rowing of the captain brought the boat round and still nearer. The Indians yelled, the ■women screamed, the horses were falling and plung- in?, and bullets were flying thick around us. Yet above it all, the voice of captain Ward rose cool — ' Rogers, take my oar.' ' I took it, and he at the same instant, seized a piece of plank, and rowed to such purpose, that in a few minutes we were beyond the reach of their rifles. We knew they had no canoes, being on a hunting excursion, and that we were then safe. But oh ! what a sight ! the horses were all dead or dying, one child badly wounded, the boat half filled with water, and the young man in his blood in the bottom of the boat. By this time the coolness of the captain was all n-one. He lay down by the side of his nephew, whom he loved as his own son, and exclaimed, ' O John, John ! O Lord, have mercy, have mercy ! I hiive brought the dear boy to this death!' But the widowed mother! She was pale as a sheet; but she came to her son, raised his head in her lap, and open- ed his bosom where the blood was coming still. He was yet alive. ' John,' said she in a sweet voice, as if speaking to a babe, ' John, do you know me ?' ' My mother,' said ho, in a whisper. ' Can you swallow, John ?' said she, putting her hand over and dipping up some water from the river. ' He tried, but could not. 'My son, do you know you are dying?' 'Yes, mother; but arc you hurt.' ' No, no; but don't think of me now. Can you pray with the heart now, my dear son?' ' He looked up a moment, and gasping said, ' God be merciful to me a sinner for the sake of ' 'Jesus Christ,' said the mother, for he was gone. She bent over him a few moments as if in silent prayer, then kissed his lips, and for the first time, tears filled her eyes. Till that moment von would have thought she had l)een talking lo a child just going to sleep — her voice was so calm and so mild. She was a The sphere in which every one lives contains the widow, and this was her only child, and a noble fel- circle of his duties ; he may easily know them. low he was. But she was a religious woman. 1 never saw religion like that before nor since. It was all — > Qoil has done it, and He eannot do ivrong.' ' We lay oil in the river till dark, and then silendy came to the sliore on this side for the night. We dared not to light a candle, lest the Indians should see it. We milked our only cow, and fed the chil- dren, and got them asleep. We then brought the bod)' of the young man up the bank, and when the moon rose up, we dug that grave which you see yon- der. We had to be careful not to make a noise, nor even to weep aloud. But after we had opened the grave and were ready to put the corpse in it, the wid- owed mother spoke. ' Is there no one here that can offer a prayer as we bury mv only child? — There was no answer. We could all sob, but we had never prayed for ourselves. She then knelt down, the widow, and laying her hand on the bosom of Iter boy, she, in a subdued voice, uttered such a prayer as few ever made I She was calm as the bright waters at our feet. And when she came to pray for the whole of us — for the poor Indians who had murdered her boy — when she gave thanks to God, that he had so long comforted her heart with her son, and when she gave thanks that God had given her such a son to give back to him — it was awful ! — we coidd not sob aloud ! You preach- ers, talk aliout stiblimity, but if this was not it, I do not know what it is. Well, there we buried him, and there he sleeps yet. In the morning I got up at daylight, and came up here to place that stone at the head of the grave. It was bloody, for his head had rested upon it. I found the mother was here before me — perhaps she had been here all night. She was trying to do the very thing; and so, without saying a single word, I took hold and helped her to put the stone at the head of the grave. It is now nearly sunk in the ground ; but it stands just as we placed it. When we had done, the widow turned and said ' Rogers,' but tears came, and I was thanked enough. I have sat on this log many times, and thought over the whole scene ; and thousrh the mother has been in the grave many years, yet I can see her even now, just as she looked when she turned to thank me, and I can liear her voice just as it sounded when she spoke to her dying boy. I have never seen such religion since.' ' Well, Rogers, though you have never seen such religion since, because you have never seen such a call upon a Christian since, may I not hope 3-ou ha.vp. felt something like it ?' ' I am an old sinner, and have a hard heart,' and the tears ran down his cheeks. We conversed a long time, and it was good to do so. As we rose up and cast a last look upon the grave and upon the spot where the Indians fired, I said — ' Rogers, would you like a picture of this story?' ' I have it, sir, on my heart, and need no other ; and yet, perhaps my children might understand it better if they had one. But the story don't need a pic- ture.' ' No, nor wotdd the picture need the story.' 217 REVOLUTIONARY ANECDOTES. BARON STEUBEN. " In the society of ladies, the baron appeared to be very happy ; engaged in their amusements, and added by his wit and pleasantry to the delights of the evening. His sternness and stentorian voice was on- ly seen and heard in the field. ' Oh !' said an old man, who had been a captain in the war, and then kept a pulilick house, near Utica ; 'oh! baron, how glad I am to see you in my house, but I used to be dread- fully afraid of you!' — 'How so, captain?" — 'You halloed, and swore, and looked so dreadfully at me, once when my platoon was out of its place, that I almost melted into water !' — ' Oh, fie done, fie, cap- tain ;' — ' It was had, to be sure,' said the old man, ' but you did hallo tremendously !' It is true, he was rough as the ocean in a storm, when great faults in discipline were committed ; but if in the whirlwind of his passion, he had injured any one, the redress was ample. ' " I recollect at a review at Morristown, a Lieuten- ant Gibbons, a brave and good officer, was arrested on the spot, and ordered in the rear, for a fault which it appeared another had committed. At a proper moment, the commander of the regiment came for- ward, and informed the baron of Mr. Gibbons's inno- cence, and worth, and of his acute feelings under this unmerited disgrace. ' Desire Lieutenant Gib- bons,' said the baron, ' to come in front of the troops.' 'Sir,' said he to him, ' the fault which was commit- ted by throwing the line into confusion, might in the presence of an enemy, have been fatal ; and I arrest- ed you. Your colonel has informed me, that you are in this instance blameless. I ask your pardon ; return to your command, I would not do injustice to any one, much less, to one whose character is so re- spectable.' All this was said with his hat off, and the rain pouring on his reverend head ! Was there an officer who saw this, unmoved with feelings of respect and affection 1 Not one, who had the feelings of a soldier. " The baron, though never perfectly master of our language, made very few mistakes in speaking, ex- cept designedly, for pleasantry or for wit. I remem- ber, that dining at headquarters at New Windsor, New York, Mrs. Washington asked him what amuse- ments he had, now that peace was certain, and the business of his profession less pressing. ' I read and play chess, my lady,' said the baron, ' and yes- terday I was invited to go a-fishing. It was under- stood to be a very fine amusement. I believe I sat in the boat two hours ; it was very warm but I caught two fish.' — ' Of what kind, baron V ' Indeed, my la- dy, I do not recollect perfectly, but one of them was a whale.' ' A whale ! baron, in the North river !' 'Yes, upon my word, a very fine whale, as that gen- tleman informed me; did you not tell me? was it not a whale, major ?' 'An eel, baron.' ' I beg your pardon, my lady ; I am very much mistaken if that gentleman did not call it a whale, but it is of little 28 consequence, I shall abandon the traJe notwithstand- ing the fine amusement it affords.' " On another occasion, in the house of the respect- able Mrs. Livingston, mother of the late chancellor, where virtue and talents, and modest manners al- ways met welcome, the baron was introduced to a Miss Sheaffe, an amiable and interesting young lady, sister of the present British General Sheaffe. ' I am very happy,' said he, ' in the honour of meeting you, mademoiselle, at whatever risk, though I have from my youth, been cautioned toguard myself against mis-chief; but I never before thought her attractions were so powerful." " The adroitness, and above all the silence, with which manoeuvres were performed, in the command of the baron, was remarked with astonishment by the officers of the French army. The Marquis la Val de Montmorency, a brigadier-general, said to the bar- on, ' I admire the celerity and exactitude with which your men perform ; but what I cannot conceive, is the profound silence with which they manoeuvre !" ' I don't know, Mons. le Marquis, from whence the noise should come,' answered the baron, ' when even my brigadiers dare not open the mouth, but to repeat the order !' 'Ah! hah! Mons. le Baron,' vocifera- ted the Marquis, for he was perhaps the noisiest man in the French Army; 'je vous comprend ! je vous comprend !' " The baron, after the defeat of Gates in Carolina, was engaged in raising a regiment in Virginia ; men sufficient to form a regiment had with difficulty been collected ; the corps was paraded, and on the point of marching to Carolina. A good looking man on horseback, with his servant as it appeared, also well mounted, rode up, and introducing himself to the baron, informed him he had brought a recruit. ' I thank you, sir,' said the baron, ' with all my heart, he has arrived in a happy moment. Where is he, colonel V for the man was a colonel in the militia. ' Here, sir,' ordering his boy to dismount. The baron's counte- nance altered ; a sergeant was ordered to measure the lad, whose shoes when off, discovered something by which his height had been increased. The baron patted the child's head, with a hand trembling with rage, and asked him how old he was ? He was very yotmg, quite a child ; ' Sir,' said the baron, turning to him who brought him, ' you think me a rascal !' ' Oh, no baron, I don't'. ' Then, sir, I think you are one, an infamous scoundrel, thus to attempt to cheat your country! Take off this fellow's spurs, place him in the ranks, and tell General Green from me. Col- onel Gaskins, that I have sent him a man able to serve, instead of an infant, whom he would have basely made his substitute. Go, my boy, carry the colonel's horses and spurs to his wife ; make my re- spects to her, and tell her that her husband has gone to fight, as an honest citizen should, for the liberty of his country. By platoons ! to the right wheel ! for- ward march !' " • The beauty of this puii, it will be perceived, consisted very much in the baron's having imparted to it the foreign accent, making Miss Sheafie and mischief iimWat in sound. 218 REVOLUTIONARY ANECDOTES. MRS. CHARLES ELLIOT. There was in the legion of Pulaski, a young Fretich officer ol .singular fine form and appearance, named Celeron. As he passed ihe dwelling of Mrs. Charles Elliot, a Lintish major, whose name is lust, sigmricanlly puiiitmg him out, said, " See, Mrs. Elliot, one of your illustrious allies — what a pity it is, that the hero has lost his sword." " Had two thousand such men," replied the lady, " been present to aid in the defence of our city, Charlestown, ihink you. sir, that 1 should ever have been subject to the malignity of your observation ?" At the moment, a negro, trigged out in full British uniform, happened to pass : " See, major," continued she, "one of your allies ; — bow wiih gratitude for the service received from such lionourable associ- ates — caress and cherish them — the fraternity is excellent." MRS. RICHARD SHUBRICK. An American soldier, flying from a party of the enemy, sought Mrs, Richard Shubriek's protection, and was promised it. The British, pressing close upon him, insisted that he should be delivered up, threatening immediate and universal destruction in case of refusal The ladies, her companions, who were in the house witii her, shrunk from the con- test and were silent ; but, undaunted by their threats, this intrepid lady placed herself before the chamber into which the unfortunate fugitive liad been con- ducted, and resolutely said : "To men of honour, the chamber of a lady should be as sacred as the sanc- tuary ! I will defend the passage to it, though 1 perish. You may succeed and enter it, but it shall be over my corpse." " By God !" said the officer, " if muskets were pla- ced ill the hands of a few such women, our only safety would be found in retreat; your intrepidity, madam, gives you security ; from me you shall meet with no further annoyance." MRS. JACOB MOTTE. When compelled by painful duty, Lieutenant- Colonel Lee informed Mrs. Jacob Motte, that in or- der to accomplish the immediate surrender of the British garrison, occupying her elegant mansion, its destruction was indispensable, she insiantlv replied, " 'I'he sacrifice of my property is nothing, and I shall view its destruction with delight if it shall in any degree contribute to the good of my country." In proof of her sincerity, she immediately presented the arrows by which combustible matter was to be conveyed to the building. MRS. WRIGHT. At the commencement of the Revolution, Mrs. Wright, a native of Pennsylvania, a distinguished modeller of likenesses and figures of wax, was ex- hibiting specimens of her skill in London. The king of Great Britain, pleased with her talents, gave her liberal encouragement, and, finding her a great politician, and an enthusiasiick republican, would often enter into discussion relative to passing occur- rences, and endeavoured to refute her opinion with regard to the probable issue of the war. The frank- ness with which she delivered her sentiments, seem- ed rather to j>lease than to ofTend him ; which was a fortunate circumstance, for, when he asked an opinion, she gave it without constraint, or the least regard to consequences. I remember to have heard her say, that on one occasion, the monarch, irritated by some disaster to his troops, where he had prog- nosticated a triumph, exclaimed with warmth : " I wish, Mrs. Wright, you would tell me how it will be possible to check the silly inl'atuaiion of your countrymen, restore them to reason, and render them good and obedient subjects." — " I consider their submission to your majesty's government is now al- together out of the question," replied Mrs. Wright : " friends you may make them, but never subjects ; for America, before a king can reign there, must become a wilderness, without any other inhabitants than the beasts of the forest. The opponents of the decrees of your parliament, rather than submit, would perish to a man; but if the restoration of peace be seriously the object of your wishes, 1 am confi- dent that it needs but the striking off of THREE HEADS to produce it." — " O, Lord North's, and Lord George Germaine's, beyond all question ; and where is the third head ?" " 0, sire, politeness for- bids me to name HIM. Your majesty could never wish me to forget myself, and be guilty of an inci- vility." In her exhibition room, one group of figures par- ticularly attracted attention ; and by all who knew her sentiments, was believed to be a pointed hint at the results which might follow the wild ambition of the monarch. The busts of the king and queen of Great Britain, were placed on a table, apparently intently gazing on a head, which a figure, an excel- lent representation of herself, was modelling in its lap. It was the head of the unfortunate Charles the First. BARON STEUBEN. When General Arnold apostatized and attached himself to the British standard. Baron Steuben, the inspector-general of the army, to shew his perfect abhorrence of the traitor, commanded that every sol- dier who bore the name, should change it, or be immediately dismissed the service. Some days after, finding a soldier of Connecticut, who had paid no attention to the mandate, he insisted that he should be instantaneously expelled from the rank. " I am no traitor, my worthy general," said the soldier, " and will willingly renounce a name that the perfidy of a scoundrel has for ever tarnished, if allowed to assume one which is dear to every Amer- ican soldier. Let me be Steuben, and he assured that I will never disgrace you." — "Willingly, my worthy fellow," replied the baron. " Be henceforth Steuben, and add to the glory of a name that hath already acquired lustre, by the partial adoption of a brave man." The soldier, at the conclusion of the war, kept a tavern in New England, exhibiting a representation of his patron as a sign, and, as long as the baron lived, received a pension from him as a reward for his partial attachment. 219 REVOLUTIONARY ANECDOTES. MRS. CHARLES ELLIOT. A British officer, disliiiguished by his inhuman- ity and constant oppression of the uiitbrtunate, meet- ing Mrs. Charles EIHot in a garden adorned with a great variety of flowers, asked the name of the Cam- omile, which appeared to flourish with peculiar hix- uriance. " The Rebel Flower," she replied. " Why was that name given to it ?" inquired the officer. " Because," rejoined the lady, " it thrives most when most trampled upon." MRS. DANIEL HALL. Mrs. Daniel Hall having obtained permission to pay a visit to her mother on John's Island, was on the point of embarking, when an officer stepping forward in the most authoritative manner, demanded the key of lier trunk. " What do you expect to find there ?" asked the ladv. " I seek for treason," was the replv. " You mav then save yourself the trouble of search," said Mrs. Hall. " You may find plenty of it at my tongue's end." MRS. THOMAS HEYWARD. Mrs. Thomas Hevward, in two instances, with the utmost firmness, refused to illuminate for British victories. An officer force 1 his way into her pres- ence, and sternly demanded of Mrs. Hevward, " How dare you disobey the order which has been issued; why, madam, is not your house illumina- ted?" — ■" Is it possible for me, sir," replied the lady, with perfect calmness, " to feel a spark of joy ? Can I celebrate the victory of your army, while my husband remains a prisoner at St. Augustine ?" — " That," rejoined the officer, "is of but little conse- quence ; the last hopes of rebellion are crushed by the defeat of Green at Guildford. You shall illu- minate." — " Not a single light," replied the lady, " shall be placed with my consent, on such an occa- sion, in any window of my house." — " Then, mad- am, I will return with a party, and, before mid- night, level it with the ground." — "You have power to destroy, sir, and seem well disposed to use it ; but over my opinions you possess no control : I disregard your menaces, and resolutely declare — I will not illuminate !" savages under your immediate command, and for no better reason than that his name was M'Koy. As you are a prisoner to the leaders of my country, for the present I lay aside all thoughts of revenge ; but when you resume your sword. I will go five him- dred miles to demand satisfaction at the point of it for the murder of mv son." MRS. M'COY. A remarkable scene is related by Dr. Ramsay to have occurred on the occasion of Fort Augusta, commanded by Colonel Browne, being taken, which well deserves to be recorded. Passing through the settlement where the most wanton waste had re- cenily been made by the British, both of lives and property, a Mrs. M'Koy having obtained per- mission to speak to Colonel Browne, addressed him in words to the following effect : " Colonel Browne — in the late day of your prosperity, I visited vour camp, and on my knees supplicated for the life of my son ; but you were deaf to my entreaties. You hanged him, though a beardless youth, before my face ! These eyes have seen him scalped by the MRS. CHANNING. Shortly after the commencement of the war, the family of Dr. Channing, then residing in Eng- land, removed to France, and sailed in a stout and well-armed vessel for America. They had pro- ceeded but a little way when they were attacked by a privateer. A fierce engagement ensued, during which Mrs. Channing kept the deck, handing car- tridges, aiding the wounded, and exhorting the crew to resist until death. Their fortitude, however, did not correspond wiih the ardour of her wishes, and the colours were struck; Seizing the pistols and side-arms of her husband, she threw them into the sea, declaring that she would rather die than see him surrender them to an enemy. MRS. WILEY JONES. The haughty Tarleton, vaunting his feats of gal- lantry, to the great disparaoement of the officers of the continental cavalry, said to a lady at Wilming- ton — " I have a very earnest desire to see your far- famed hero. Colonel Wasliinston." — " Your wish, colonel, might have been fully Kralified," she prompt- ly replied, " had you ventured to look behind you, after the battle of the Covvpens." It was in that battle that Washington had wound- ed Tarleton, which gave rise to a still more pointed retort. Conversing with Mrs. Wiley Jones, Colonel Tarleton observed : " You appear to think very highly of Colonel Washington ; and yet I have been told that he is so ignorant a fellow, that he can hardly write his own name." — " It may be the case," she readily replied, " but no man better than yourself, colonel, can testify, that he knows how to make his mark." MRS. PINKNEY. Pre-eminent in malignity stood the Engineer Moncrief. The instances of oppression issuing from his implacable resentment would fill a volume. I shall confine myself to one anecdote. Mrs. Pinkney, mother of C. C. Pinkney, solicited as a favour that he woidd not suffer certain oak trees of remarkable beauty on a farm which he oc- cupied, to be destroyed, as they were highly valued by her son, having been planted by his father's hand. " And where is your son, madam ?" — " At Haddrels, sir, a prisoner." — " And he wishes me, madam, to have these trees preserved ?" — " Yes, sir. if possible." — " Then tell him, madarn, that they will make excellent firewood, and he may depend upon it they shall be burnt." Colonel Moncrief was no jester. The promptitude of his actions left no room for suspense. .\n opportunity was offered to injure and to insult, and he embraced it. 'J he trees were buriit. 220 REVOLUTIONARY ANECDOTES. GENERAL PUTMAN. DuRiNO the revolutionary war, when General Putman was in command of an important fortress in the Highlands of the Hudson river, his force had been so much weakened by the expiration of limited enlistments, and the withdrawal of troops for the protection of other important passes, that the enemy ventured to besiege his fort. The siege was e.xtend- ed beyond the patience of a veteran, whose feelings were more in favour of field fights, than of artificial niancEUvres. He was still more annoyed by a ban- dylegged drummer, who approached an angle of the fort every morning, to beat an insulting reveille. After having dialed under the insult, like a caged lion, he procured one of the Dutch ducking-guns, of caliber and leiigih sufficient to reach the drummer, and punish his audacity. He stationed himself with this weapon at the parapet, and soon saw his insult- ing victim approaching. He had scarcely struck the first note of defiance, when drum and drummer rolled in the dust. — " There," exclaimed the satis- fied general, "go to *•** with your sheep- skin fiddle !" LIEUTENANT MOORE. A FEW days previous to the evacuation of Charles" ton, a very rash expedition, suggested by General Kosciusko, occasioned the loss of Captain VVilmot and Lieutenant Moore, two of the most distinguished partisans in the service. The object was to sur- prise a party of wood-cutlers from Fort Johnstone, working in view of the garrison of Charleston. The party found their enemy [irepared, and received so deadly a fire, that Wilmot and several of his men fell lil'eless, while Moore and many others remained on the field covered with wounds. Kosciusko, al- though a spontoon was shattered in his hand, and his coat pierced with four balls, escaped unhurt. A British dragoon was in the act of culling him down, when he was killed by Mr. VVilliain Fuller, a very young and gallant volunteer, who had joined the expedition. This was the last blood shed in the revolutionary contest. The British buried Wilmot with the hon- ours of war ; and shewed the greatest allention to Moore, who was removed to Cliarleslon, to receive the best surgical assistance. The ampnlaiion of the liml), in which he received his principal wound, be- in" inilispensible, it was performed wiiliin a few davs after the evacuation liv their own surgi^ms; but mortification rapidly followiii!;. he died greatly and universally lamented. When first brought into town, great pains were taken by the liritish surgeons to extract the ball, but without success. Mrs. Daniel Hall, in whose house he lodijed, and who had watch- ed over him nnremiltinglv, being apprized of the business which brought the most distinguished sur- geons together, entering the apartment of .Moore, as soon as they had retired, said, " 1 am happv to find that you have not been subjected to so severe an operation as 1 had anticipated ; vou appear to have experienced b".t little agony. I was constant- ly in the next room, and heard not a groan." — " My kind friend," he replied, " I felt not the less agony; but I would not have breathed a sigh in the pres- ence of British officers, to have secured a long and fortunate existence." GENERAL JACKSON. General Jackso.v, at a very early period of his life, aspired to obtain celebrity. At the age of four- teen he commenced his military career, and shared the glory of the wtll-fought action at Stono. Made a prisoner in his native settlement at the Wacsaws, shortly al'ter the surrender of Charleston, his manly opposition to the orders of an unfeeling tyrant who wished to impose on him the duties of a hireling, gave superiour claims to applause. Wounds were inflicted and increase given to persecution, but with- out affecting either the steadiness of his principles or the firmness of his resolution. He told his op- pressor — " You may destroy, but can never bend me to a submission." The severity of this treatment arose from his re- fusal to obey an officer who ordered him to clean his boots. The spirit of the youth, which ought to have called forth applause, excited no sentiment but that of unbridled resentment. BRITISH ATROCITIES. When General Provost invaded Carolina, a con- siderable British force occupied the house and plan- tations of Mr. Robert Gibbes, on the Stono river. At the period of their arrival there, Mr. John Gibbes, a respectable gentleman, worn down by age and in- firmity, was on a visit to his brother. His usual residence was on a farm called the Grove, where the race-ground is now established. In addition to numberless exoticks, he had a green-house and pi nery in the best condition. A .Major Sheridan, arri ving from the army on tlie Neck, at Mr. Gibbes's was asked by an officer in the presence of the broth ers — " What news ? Shall we gain possession a the city?" — " I fear not," replied Sheridan, "but wft have made glorious havock of the property in the vicinity. I yesterday witnessed the destruction of an elegant establishment, belongini; to an arch-rebel who, luckily for himself, was absent. You would have been delighted 10 see how quickly the pineap- ples were shared among our men, and how rapidly his trees and ornamental shrubs were levelled with the dust." Mr. John Gibbes, who was a man of strong pas- sions, could bear no more, and, rei;ardless of conse- quences, with indignation exclaimed, " I hope that the Almiohly will cause the arm of the scoundrel who struck the first blow, to wither to his shoulder.'' " How is this, sir 1" said Sheridan, " dare you use such language to me ?" — " Ye.s," said Mr. Gibbes, " and would repeat it at the altar !" — " The provo- cation," said the commanding officer present, "suffi- ciently justifies the anger of Mr. Gibbes ; for your own credit, Sheridan, let the matter drop." The catastroplie was dreadful. To banish thought, Mr. Gibbes, unhappily driven to an intemperance before unknown, retired to his bed, and rose no more. 221 General Putnam. — Among the worthies who figured during the era of the American revolu- tion, perhaps there was none possessing more origi- nality of character than General Putnam, who was eccentric k and fearless, blunt in his manners, the daring soldier, without the polish of the gentleman. He might well be called the Marion of the north, though he disliked disguise, probably from the fact of his lisping, which was very apt to overthrow any trickery he might have in view. At the time a stronghold, called Horse-neck, some miles above New York, was in possession of the British, Putnam, with a few sturdy patriots, was lurking in its vicinity, bent on driving them from the place. Tired of lying in ambush, the men be- came impatient, and importuned the general with que.siioiis, as to when tliey were going to have a 'bout with the foe. One morning, he made a speech something to the following effect, which convinced them that something was in the wind : — " Fellers — You've been idle too long, and so have I. — I'm going down to Bush's at Horse-neck, in an hour, with an o.\-team, and a load of corn. If I come back, I will let you know the particulars ; if I should not, let them have it, bv the hokey !" He shortly afterward mounted his ox-cart, dress- ed as one of the commonest order of yankee-farmers, and was soon at Bush's tavern, which was in pos- session of the British troops. No sooner did the officers espy him, than they began to question him as to his whereabout, and finding him a complete simpleton, (as they thought,) they began to quiz him, and threatened to seize his corn and fodder. " How much do you ask for your whole concern ?" asked they. " For marcy sake, gentlemen," replied the mock clod -hopper, with the most deplorable look of en- treaty, " ordy let me off, and you shall have my hull team and load for nothing ; and if that wont dew, I'll give you my word I'll return to-morrow, and pay you heartily for your kindness and condescension." " Well," said they, " we'll take you at your word ; leave the team and provender with us, and we won't require any bail for vour appearance." Putnam gave up the team, and sauntered about an hour or so, gaining all the inforination that he wish- ed : he then returned to his men, and told them of the foe and his plan of attack. The morning came, and with it sallied out the gallant band. The British were handled with rough hands, and when they surrendered to General Putnam, the clodhopper, he sarcastically remarked, " Gentlemen, I have only kept my word. I told you I would call and pay you for your kindness and condescension." RETORT COURTEOUS. The enmity of the contending armies during the siege of Charleston, was not confined to open hostil- ity, hut manifested itself in the indulgence of irony too pointed not to give increase to mutual animosity. Towards the conclusion of it, the British, believing that the fare of the garrison was both indifferent and scanty a thirteen-inch shell was thrown from the lines, which passing immediately over the horn-work, manned from a detachment of the ancient battalion of artillery of Charleston, fell into a morass immedi- ately in the rear, without exploding. An officer of the corps, who saw it lodge, approaching it after a little time, perceived a folded paper attached to it, directed " To the Yankee officers in Charleston ;" the contents of which expressed a wish, " that in their known state of starvation, they would accept from a compassionate enemy, a supply of the neces- saries they so much delighted in." 'I'he shell was filled with rice and molasses. To return the compliment, a shell was immediate- ly filled with hog's lard and brimstone, and thrown into the British works, accompanied by a note, ex- pressing thanks for the present received, and begging that the articles returned by a considerate enemy might be appropriated to the use of the Scotch gen- tlemen in the camp, to whom, as they were always of consequence, they might now prove peculiarly ac- ceptable. It was understood after the siege, that the note was received, but not with that good humour that might have been expected, had it been consider- ed as a jeu d'esprit, resulting from justifiable retalia- tion. MAJOR EDWARDS. Major Evan Edwards was of the Baptist per- suasion, and originally designed for the ministry, but, imbibing the military spirit of the times, entered the army and appeared at the commencement of the war as one of the defenders of Fort Washington. A brave and stubborn resistance could not save the post which fell into the hands of the enemy, and Ed- wards became a prisoner. I have often heard him make a jest of the whimsical and fantastick figure which he exhibited on this occasion. " It was not to be wondered at," said he, "that starch in my person, emaciated as an anatomy, with a rueful countenance, rendered more ghastly by misfortune, iny dress j i' ly military, but showing much of a clerical cut, i risibility of our conquerors should have been high*) excited. " One of the leaders, however, of the successful assailants, anxious to excite a still higher degree of merriment, ordered me to ascend a cart, and as a genuine specimen of a rebel officer, directed that I should be paraded through the principal streets of New York. It was at the entrance of Canvass Town that I was much amused by the exclamation of a Scottish female follower of the camp, who call- ed to a companion : ' Quick, quick, lassie, rin hith- er a wee, and divarte yoursel: they've cotched a braw and bonnie rebel, 't will de ye gude to laugh at him.' Hooting and derision attended my whole ca- reer, and at the conclusion of the farce I was com- mitted to prison." A STANDING ARMY. In the battle before New Orleans in 1814, under Gen. Jackson, Col. Kemper of Gen. Coffee's brigade found himself almost surrounded by the enemy. Per- ceiving his perilous situation, and that his oidy chance of escape was bv stratagem, he exclaimed in an au- dible voice to a group of the enemy, " What the devil are you doing there ? Where is your regiment ? Come along with me immediately !" and they all followed him into the American lines, and were made prison- 222 AMERICAN REVOLUTION. TiiF, followinir is taken from the National Trades Union Journal, being an extract front Mr. Moore's Washington Monument speech. " In no instance, perhaps, was his inlluence with the army so striivingly exemplified, as in his attack on the enemy at Trenton. O'er and o'er have 1 lis- tened with intense anxiety, in days of my boyhood, whilst my now departed sire, who fought and bled on that proiid field, recited, with thrilling interest, all that related to the enterprise. ' It was a December's night, (would he say,) when our litde heart broken army halted on the banks of the Delaware. That night was dark,— cheerless, — tempestuous, — and bore a strong resemblance to our country's fortunes ! It seemed as if Heaven and earth had conspired for our destruction. The clouds lowered — darkness and the storm came on apace. The snow and the hail de- scended, beating with unmitigated violence upon the supperless, hall-clud, shivering soldier — and in the roarings of the ilood and the waitings of the storm, were heard, by fancy's ear, the knell of our hopes and the dirge of liberty ! The impetuous river was filled widi floating ice; an attempt to cross it at that time, and under such circumstances, seemed a des- perate enterprise ; yet it was undertaken, and thanks to God and Washington, was accomplished. "'From where we landed on the Jersey shore to Trenton, was about nine miles, and on the whole line of march there was scarcely a word uttered, save by the orticers when giving some order. We were well nigh exhausted, said he, many of us frost- bitten, and the majority of us so badly shod, that the blood gushed from our frozen and lacerated feet at every tread ; yet we upbraided not, complained not, but marched steadily and firmly, though mournfully, onward, resolved to persevere to the utmost; — not for our country — our country alas ! we had given up for lost. Not for ourselves — life for us no longer w-ore a charm — hut because such was the will of our beloved chief — 'twas for AVasliinsrton alone we were willing to make the sacrifice. When we arrived within sight of the enemy's encampments, we were ordered to form a line, when Washington reviewed us. Pale and emaciated, dispirited and exhausted, we presented a most unwarlike and melancholy aspect. The paternal eve of our chief was quick to discover the extent of our suflerings, and acknow- ledired them with tears ; but suddenly checking iiis emotions, he reminded us that our country and all that we held dear was staked upon the coming bat- tle. ,\s he spoke, we began to gather ourselves up, and rally our energies ; every man grasped his arms more firmlv, and the clenched hand, the compressed lip, and the steadfast look, and ihe knit brow, told the soul's resolve. Washington observed us well ; then did he exhort us with all the fervour of his soul. " On yonder field to conquer ; or die the death of the brave." At that instant the glorious sun, as if in prophetic token of our success, burst forth in all his splendour, bathing in liquid light the blue hills of Jersey. The faces which but a few minutes be- fore were blenched with despair, now glowed with martial fire and animation. Our chief, with exulta- tion, hailed the scene ; then casting his doubts to the winds, and calling on the " God of battles," and his faithful soldiers, led on the charge. The confiict was fierce and bloody. For more than twenty minutes, not a gun was fired — the sabre and the bayonet did the work of destruction, 'twas a hurri- cane of fire, and steel, and death. There did we stand, " foot to foot, and hilt to hilt," with the serried foe ! and where we stood we died or conquered." ANIMALS OF SOUTH AFRICA. It is remarkable that, notwithstanding the singu- la? barrenness of many parts of the country, there should have been found within eight or nine degrees of latitude from the Cape point, the largest, as well as the most minute, objects in almost every class of the animal world. Thus, like the ostrich and cree- per among the feathered tribes, among the beasts we have the elephant and the black-streaked mouse ; the one weighing four thousand pounds, the other about the fourth part of an ounce ; the cameloparda- lis, seventeen feet high, and the little elegant zenik, or viverra, of three inches. Here too, as above stated, is the abode of the prodigious hippopotamus, more bulky, though not so high as the elephant: and also the rhinoceros, equally ponderous and sow-like in its formation. Of the thirty different species of antelope known in natural history, this country alone possesses eighteen. Besides these, there is the largest of the eland or oreas that exists, six feet high ; together with the little pigmy, or royal antelope, which is little more than six inches. The spring-bok, or leaping antelope, is, as before observed, sometimes met with in herds of fou • or five thousand. The lion, the leopard, the panther, and various species of the tiger-cat are likewise in- digenous ; but not the striped tiger of India. The wolf, hytena, and three or four diflerent kinds of jackals are every where found ; as also the ant-eater, the iron hog, or crested porcupine, the viverra, that burrows in the ground, the jerboa, nearly allied to the kangaroo, and several species of hares. Buffa- loes infest the woods and thickets ; and many of the plains abound with zebras ; with the stronger and more elegant-shaped quacha ; as well as with whole herds of the singular gnu, partaking of the form of the ox, the horse, the antelope, and the stag. In the mountains there are numerous and large troops of that disgusting animal, the dog-faced baboon ; and likewise swarms of apes and monkeys of all sizes. Sadnkss. — There is a mvsteri(ms feeling that ire- quentlv passes like a cloud over tlie spirit. It comes upon the soul in the busy busde of life, in the social circle, in the calm and silent retreats of solitude. Its powers are alike supreme over the weak and iron-hearted. At one time it is caused by the flit- ting of a single thought across the mind. Again, a sound will come booming across the ocea ■ of me- mory, gloomy and solemn as the death-knell, over- shading all the bright hopes and sunny feelings of the heart. Who can describe it, and yet who has not felt its bewildering influence .' Still it is a deli- cious sort of sorrow : and like a cloud dimming the sunshine of the river, although causing a momen- tary shade of gloom, it enhances the beauty of re- turning brightness. 223 POPUl.ATIOX OF THE UNITED STATES. The following liible is the first official account of the census of 1840, then published. It was furnished lo the Senate by the Secretary of State, in obedience Id a resolution of that body, and ordered to be print- ed. STATEMENT Shnwing the agg^e^ate in the population of the several states and terriiories, and in the District of Columbia, under the late census, distinguishing the number of whites, free persons of color, and all other persons, as nearly as can be ascertained at this lime. Slates and Terri- tories. Maine N Hainpsiiire Massactiuseils R. Islinil C'uniHeiicul — Vennnnl -- N. York N. Jersey Pennsylvania Pplaware ]\Iarylaad Virginia N. Carolina S Carolina liPorgia Alabama iVlississippi L.iui3iana Tennessee Konmcky -■ Oliiu ■ In. liana Illinois Mit-goiiri Arkansas - Michiean I'lurida Territory tVisconsin do. Inwa do. District of Columbia — -- 501,438 28t,(l3G 7-29,(130 ln-.,5S7 301.856 291,9,18 ,378.890 351 583 ,676,115 o8.5bl 317,717 7411,968 4St,870 239,084 4117,695 a35,l&t 179, 74 15 ,983 640 6-27 687,5 .2 ,5(«,122 678,698 472,354 .T23,888 77,174 211,560 27,728 30.566 42,864 30,657 l,3.-)5 637 8.66S 3,2 8 8,103 7 BO,, 127 21,044 4-.ai4 16.919 62,0'20 49,842 22,73-2 8,276 2,753 2,0 9 1,.366 24,368 5,5 4 7,309 17,342 7,165 3,598 1,374 46.i 707 820 178 153 4,: 61 336,1169 1 5 17 (I 4 674 64 2,60) 89,495 4)8.987 2.15,8 7 327,038 280,844 253,532 193,211 165,219 183,1159 182,072 3 3 331 68,0)0 19,'.'35 25,559 8 18 4,694 501,7 3 284,5-4 737.699 IOS.,3,30 309,948 29 ,94-^ 2,428,921 273.303 1,724,033 78,118") 469,2.32 l,ai9,797 751,119 594,393 691,392 590,756 375,651 344 570 829,510 776,92 1,519,467 685,866 476,18:1 3a3,702 97,574 212,267 54,107 30,752 *J,03o 43,712 2,483,336 17,051,180 17,051,180 La Fayette Parish, Louisiana, not included in the above, 7,832 Estimated population of Carter county, Ken- tucky, not included 3,000 17,062,012 Seamen in the service of the U. S., June 1st, 1840 6,100 Total population of the U. States, 17,068,112 ■ NATUI.RAIST'S WALK. The little excursions of the naturalist, from habit and from acquirement, become a scene of constant observation and remark. The insect that crawls, the note of the bird, the plant that flowers, or the vernal leaf that peeps out, engages his attention, is recog- nized as an intimate, or noted for some novelty that it presents in sound or aspect. Every season has its peculiar product, and is pleasing or admirable from causes that variously affect our different tempera- menis or dispositions; but there are accompaniments in an autumnal morning's woodLind walk that call for all our notice and admiration: the peculiar feeling of the air, the solemn grandeur of the scene arouni us, dispose the mind to contemplation and remark; there is a silence in which we hear everything, a eauty that will be observed. The stump of an^old oak is a very landscape, with rugged Alpine steeps bursting through forests of verdant mosses, with some pale, denuded, branchless lichen, like a scathed oak, creeping up the sides or crowning the summits. Uambliiig with unfettered grace, the tendrils of the briony (lomus communis) lestoon with its brilliant berries, green, yellow, red, the slender sprigs of the hazel or tlie thorn ; it ornaments their plainness, and receives a support ils own feebleness denies. The agaric, with all its hues, its shades, ils elegant variety of forms, expands ils cone sprinkled with the fresh- ness of the morning : a transient fair, a child of decay, that ' sprang up in a night, and will perish in a night.' The squirrel, agile with life and timidity, gambling round the root of an ancient beech, its base overgrown with the dewberry (rubus eassiiis) blue with unsul- lied fruit, impeded in his frolic sports, half angry, darts up the silvery bole again, to peep and wonder at the strange intruder upon his haunts. The jay springs up, and screaming, tells of danger to her brood: the noisy tribe repeat the call, are hushed, and leave us. The loud laugh of the woodpecker, joyous and vacant; the hammering of the nuthatch (sitta Enropsea) cleaving its prize in the chink of some dry bough; the humble bee, torpid on ihe disc of the purple thistle, just lifts a limb to pray forbear- ance of injury, to ask for peace, and bids us " Leave him, leave him lo repose." The cinquefoil, or the vetch, with one lingering bloom, yet appears, and we note it for its loneliness. Spreading on the light foliage of the fern, dry and mature, the spider has fixed her toils, and motionless in the midst watches her expected prey, every thread and mesh beaded with dew trembling with the ze- phyr's breath. Then falls the "sere and yellow leaf," parting from its spray without a breeze, tink- ling in the boughs, and rustling scarce audibly along, rests at our feet, and tells us that we part too. All these are distinctive symbols of the season, marked in the sobriety and silence of the hour, and form per- haps a deeper impression on the mind than any af- forded by the verdant promises, the vivacities of spring, or the gay, profuse luxuriance of summer. Journal of a Naturalist. Why the nettle stings. — The common or large nettle is known by grievous experience to every one, though perhaps you have never yet inquired whence the pain arises from touching it. The sting is not, like a pin or needle, solid throughout, but is hollow at the centre and perforated at the point; and, when touched, it is not only sharp enough to pierce the skin, but also is so constructed as to inject a particle of poi- sonous fluid into ihe wound it makes, and this is the source of the pain which follows. The wound itself is so minute that it would scarcely be felt ; but the poison irritates, inflames, and causes the well-known pain alluded to. The plant, the small species of which sting most severely, is covered all over with hairs; but, by using a microscope or a magnifying- fflass, you may perceive ihat these are not all of one kind, some being perforated, which are the stings, whilst others are not. Each sting stands upon a pe- destal, and the pedestal performs the office both of gland and poison-bag. ib. 224 THE UNITED STATES SEAT OF GOVERNMENT- The District of Columbia, in which is situated the city of Washing-ton, the seat of the Federal Government, is a tract ten miles square, embra- cing within its area, the confluence of the east and west branches of the noble Potomac, or Potowmak. It was ceded to the United States li. 1800, by the states of Maryland and Virginia, at which time the seat of the Federal Government was transferred thither, from Philadelphia. It contains about 40,000 inhabitants, inchidin"- about 12,000 blacks, one half of whom are slaves. It is divided into two counties, Alexandria and Washington, and contains three cities, Washing- ton, Alexandria and Georgetown ; the whole Dis- trict is under the immediate control of con- gress. Map of the District of Columbia and Vicinity. The city of Washington is situated on the east side of the Potomac, at the point of junction of the two branches, to which place the river is nav- igable for ships of the line. The city is beautifully and extensively laid out, the streets all running in the direction of the cardinal points of the compass, and crossing each otiier at right angles. Besides these streets, avenues, named after the different states of the Union, traverse these rectangular sections, diag- onally ; and, like some of the streets are from one hundred to one hundred and sixty feet wide, handsomely shaded with trees. Many of them terminate on the hill on which the Capitol is situated, and diverge like rays from a centre. On the eastern side of the city, upon the Anacostia or east branch of the Potomac, is the I navy-yard. On the west it is separated from Georgetown by Rock creek; the Potomac, which separates it from Alexandria, is crossed by a bridge more than a mile in length. Notwithstanding the extent of the city, its population is small, being only about 20,000. It appears more like a group of villages, than a continuous city, as the buildings arc in clusters, principally in the neighbourhood of the Capitol, the navy-yard, and Pennsylvania avenue. On the latter is situated the president's house, about a mile and a half from the Capitol. It is built of freestone, two stories high, with a basement ; one hundred and eighty feet long and eighty-five feet wide. Near it are four spacious brick build- ings, containing the oflices of the executive de partment. THE CAPITOL. This magnificent building is built of freestone, and, like the president's house, painted white. It is of the Corinthian order, consisting of a cen- tre and two wings, being three hundred and fifty feet long, one hundred and twenty feet hisfh to the top of the central dome ; each wing one hun- dred and twenty feet long, and seventy feet in height. In one is the senate chamber, of a semi- circular form, seventy-four feet long ; in the other the hall of representatives, of the same shape, ninety-five feet long and sixty in height. Under the central dome is the rotunda, ninety feet in diameter, and ninety-six feet in height. It is constructed of white marble, and the floor beautifully tessilated with the same material, giv- ing an imposing effect. It contains four relievoes, representing the landing at Plymouth, the treaty between Penn and the Indians, the preservation of Smith by Pocahontas, and the adventure of Boone with two Indians. There are also four paintings executed by Col. John Trumbull, repre- senting the Declaration of Independence, the sur- render of Burgoyne, the surrender of Cornwallis, and Washington's resignation of his commission of commander-in-chief. An appropriation has been made by congress, for the purpose of filling the vacant panels in the rotunda with paintings, one of which is now in process of execution. In the west, adjoining the rotunda, is the libra- ry of congress, containing about 16,000 volumes. They are in a hall ninety-two feet long, thirty- four wide, and thirty-six feet high. Opposite the east front is Capitol square, containing twenty- l two acres, and within the area on the west front, ' is a monument erected to the memory of the gallant naval officers who fell at Tripoli in 1804. I 227 ON CROSSING THE ALLEGHANIES. BY MRS. LAURA M. THRUSTON. The broad, the bright, the glorious West, Is spread before me now ! Where the gray mists of morning rest Beneath yon mountain's brow ! The bound is past — the goal is won — The region of the setting sun Is open to my view. Land of the valiant and the free — My own Green Mountain land — to thee, And thine, a long adieu ! I hail thee. Valley of the West, For what thou yet shall be ! I hail thee for the hopes that rest Upon thy destiny ! Here — from this mountain height, T see Thy bright waves floating to the sea, Thine emerald fields outspread. And feel tli;it in the book of fame, Proudlv shall thy recorded name In laier days be read. Yet while I gaze upon thee now, All glorious as thou art, A cloud is resting on my brow, A weight upon my heart. To me — in all thy youthful pride — Thou art a land of cares untried. Of untold hopes and fears. Thou art — yet not for thee I grieve ; But for the far-off land I leave, I look on thee with tears. O ! brightly, brightly, glow thy skies. In summer's sunny hours ! The green earth seems a paradise Arrayed in summer dowers ! But oh ! there is a land afar. Whose skies to me are brighter far Along the Atlantic shore ! For eyes beneath their radiant shrine, In kindlier glances answered mine — Can these their light restore? Upon the lofty bound I stand, That parts the East and West; Before me — lies a fairy land ; Behind — u home of rest ! Here, hope her wild enchantment flings. Portrays all bright and lovely things, My footsteps to allure — But there, in memory's light, I see All that was once most dear to me — My young heart's cynosure ! OUR COUNTRY'S CALL Raise the heart — raise the hand ; Swear ye for the t/lorious cause — Swear by Nature's holy laws, To defend your Father-land. By the glory ye inherit — By the name 'mid men ye bear — By your country's freedom, swear it — By the Eternal— this day swear! Raise the heart — raise the hand ; Fling abroad the starry banner — Ever live our country's honour ; Ever bloom our native land. Raise the heart— raise the hand; Let the earth and heaven hear it ; While the sacred oath we swear it- Swear to uphold our Father-land! Wave, thou lofty ensign glorious. Floating foremost on the field, While thv spirit hovers o'er us, None shall tremble — none shall yield. Raise the heart— raise the hand; Fling abroad the starry banner- Ever live our country's honour — Ever bloom our native land. Raise the heart — raise the hand ; Raise it to the Father spirit. To the Lord of Heaven rear it ; Let the soul 'bove earth expand. Trtth unwavermg— Faith unshaken. Sway eacii action, word, and will- That which man hath undertaken. Heaven can alone fulfil. Raise the heart — raise the hand; Fling abroad the starry banner- Ever live our coimtry's honour — Ever bloom our native land. CHARITY. ' Nay, thank not me,' the kind one said, ' 'Tis to myself I 've given ; Each friendly deed like this I make A stepping-stone to Heaven !' THE PIONEERS OF OHIO. When devoid of hope, that oasis amid the arid desert of life, man is a being, when placed in dan- gers, who is to be dreaded. When hope has fled, despair usurps its place, and none despair till they behold death, as 'twere, staring them in the face; and when life, with all of its beautiful shades aitd colours is bleached with the bitterness of ap- proaching death — 't is then man becomes desper- ate ; the most timid have then done deeds of daring which were alinost incredible. I may say that hope had almost forsaken me, when I beheld six blood-thirsty Indians, with loaded guns, and triggers cocked, waiting for a sight to shoot us dead. From my companion's appearance, J should judge his feelings were analagous to my own. I looked at him but once when behind the log, but the expression of his face was so indelibly im- pressed upon my mind, that as long as memory lasts, those stern and determined features can never pass from it. His face was pale, but not occasioned by fear, for Girty never felt that sensation. His lips were firinly compressed, till the blood was forced from them, and they were of an ashy paleness. The large veins of his dark face were swollen till ready to burst, and I almost imagined I could see the fire sparkling from his dark eyes, as he cast them on me ; and, whispering through his clenched fist, bade me " die like a man, and not like a captive wolf.* * The wolf, as soon as he discovers he is a captive, loses all his natural feroritv and courage, and permits himself to be lee; by a rope without the least resistance. 228 We had now become desperate, and as the hope of life had fled, we determined to die lilie war- riors. We now resolved as a last chance to employ a deception, which has since saved many lives. Girty took his cap, which was made of rackoon-skin, and slowly raised it above the lotj ; the deception was not observed, for six shots were immediately firedatit,and twoballspassedthroufih it. I fired, and an Indian fell ; but Girty reserved his fire, lest the enemy should rush up with their tomahawks. This kept them back, for none ap- peared willing to sacrifice his life for the good of the rest. We now arose, and took our stand be- tween two trees, where, as a faint o-limmer of hope beamed on us, we determined to conquer or die. A silence ensued, only to be broken by the dealh- knell of one human bcinff. One of the Indians, bolder than the rest, left his hidintj-place, and took a circuitous route, in order to attack us in the rear, but Girty's unerring aim prevented the Indian from running but a few steps, when he fell dead. We had now four Indians to contend against, who were experienced marksmen, so we could not yet call our scalps our own ; but the skirmish was unexpectedly decided ; as if by natural consent, two of the savages left their trees, and started on the same fatal route, and with the same intention of attacking us in the rear, which their comrade had so ineffectually tried. Here, success, which had followed in our path from the moment of starting, again visited us; although the Indians were running, we killed them both. Indians, in all their skirmishes, are exceedingly politic ; they never waste a load of powder, and particularly when their own lives are in jeopardy. When fighting against numbers inferior to their own, their usual practice is to deliver their fire, and finish the destructive work with the tomahawks; but this time they showed an uncommon neglect of their usual policy. Two Indians were yet re- maining, who could have rushed upon us and shot us down, but by some strange infatuation, thej' sprang from their hiding-places, and leaping into the pawpaw thicket, bounded ofT, yelling most demoniacly, leaving four of their comrades upon the ground. We loaded our guns and Avalked to the fallen Indians, but one fellow who was shot through the hip, suddenly arose in a sitting pos- ture, and fired his gun so quick that I could not get out of the range of his shot ; the ball passed so near me as to tear away my bullet pouch, and scatter its contents upon the ground. Girty sprang upon him like a hungry panther, and witb one blow of his fist laid him upon the ground. Wheth- er he was knocked dead or animation only sus- pended I cannot say ; but if the latter was the case, he undoubtedly found himself minus a scalp. The others were dead, and we took their scalps, that we might gaze upon them while speaking or thinking of my family. We hurried on our jotir- ney, and soon came to the track of the hurricane which, although not over fifty yards wide, requir- ed at least one hour's hard labor to cross. We walked briskly on, when a large buck passed a few yards ahead of us ; this temptation was irresisti- ble ; I fired at it, and it fell bounding about one hundred yards. While Girty skinned it, I prowled about within sight, that I might anticipate any savage who might h;a 233 into the linn bosom of e\ery patriot, with such a hold as to ride out every billow and whirlwind of , faction. By this war we were taught that no nation could ever claim to be independent whose resources were confined to agriculture and commerce alone. By this war we became a manufacturing people to a respectable extent ; but there was as much opposition to this as there was to the war. This goes to show, that It IS beyond human reason to foresee what may be best ; but all will agree that there should always be wisdom and honesty at the head of our people 'to make the most judicious use of every event. " In 1 81 7, when the reign of peace was established, Mr. Madison retired to his farm to enjoy the serenity of rural life ; but here he has not been idle. On the death of :\Ir. Jeflerson, he was made chancellor of the University of Virginia, and, as well as his pre- decessor, took a deep interest in the prosperity of (he institution. When Virginia called a convention to alter her constitution, .Mr. Madison, with Chief- Justice Marshall, and .\Ir. Monroe, were found among th« sages who had witnessed the birth of that constitution, and were well acquainted with its ex- cellences and defects, and were good judges of the best forms of amendment. Seven or eight years ago, a bookseller at Washington, got up an edition ol the debates in the several conventions called by the states in 1787 and 1788. to deliberate on the adoption of the constitution of the United States. Mr. xVIadison took a lively interest in this publication, and aflbided ihe editor all the information that he' possessed upon the subject. " -Mr. Madison was unquestionably the leading member in the Virginia convention, called for the adoption of the constitution of the United States, although there were several distinguished men among them. This body was ibrtunate enough to have employed a reporter of eminence for the occasion, which was not the case in many other states ; and what the Virginian reporter did not put down in his notes, Mr. Madison's minutes and recollections most readily supplied. " In the convention he had to meet the blaze of Patrick Henry's eloquence, the subtile arguments of •vlason, and the chilling doubts of Monroe ; but all were overcome by the clearness of his views, and the force of his reasonings. Mr. Madison was not an orator in the common acceptation of the word ; there were no deep tones in his voice ; no flashes of a fierce and commanding eye ; no elegant gestures to attract the beholder ; all v/as calm, dignified, and convincing. It was the still, small voice, in which the oracles of God were communicated to the proph- et. He never talked for the love of display, but simply to communicate his thoughts. He spoke 3ften in debate, when earnest in his cause, but was always heard with profound attention ; not a word of his speeches were lost. He was so perfectly master of his subject, that he had nothing to correct in a retrospective view of it, and was so well under- stood, that he had nothing to explain. His voice was deficient in volume, but it was so well mod- ulated, that its compass was more extensive than that of many speakers of stronger lun H H 58 w I— t D E>3 2 O O •=3 H O > a <-. ft •ij H to CO O 2 I o z H O '< 239 RESIDENCES OF THE PRESIDENTS. I The cut on p. 238 is the fifth of our series of views of the Residences of the Presidents of the United States, and represents that of the two Adamses. It is situated in Quincy, in the state of Massachusetts, and is now the residence of John Quincy Adams, who is a lineal descendant of a ' puritan patriarch of that name who fled from En- ! gland during the persecution under the infamous Bishop Laud, the Chaplain and adviser of Charles the First. The farm on which this patriarch set- tled in 1630, has been transmitted from father to son through successive generations till the pres- ent time. And it is a remarkable fact that the principles of civil and religious freedom which the original settler maintained, have been handed down in all their purity, unscathed by colonial difficulties and the storm of the Revolution. No name has so long stood conspicuous in the annals of our Republic, as that of Adams, and we now view one who was the son of a President, and a President himself, actively engaged as a legisla- tor in the inferior branch of our country's coun- cils. It was Samuel Adams who, in connexion with John Hancock and a few other choice spirits, first carried into execution the design of resisting British oppression and of lighting an altar-fire of civil and religious liberty in the western hemis- phere. And John Adams, the father of the pres- ent occupant of the mansion, was one of the most active and influential men during our revolutionary struggle. He took an active part in his native state, in the events which there transpired in first opposing the usurpations of Great Britain; and, when the Colonies united in a bond of holy union for the protection of their dearest interests, John Adams was foremost in the general Congress as a firm patriot and inflexible friend of republi- can principles. He was the man who nominated Washington to the post of Commander-in-chief of the American armies, and was one of the com- mittee chosen to draft the Declaration of Inde- pendence. Next after Washington he was chosen President of the new Republic, and through a long life was honored and beloved by his country- men. Just fifty years to a day after the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, he and his fellow committee-man, Thomas Jeflerson, resign- ed up their spirits to the God who gave them, and the last words that fell from his dying lips were, Independence forever ! John Q. Adajis has also been actively engaged in public life from earliest manhood, and in the brilliant career he has run, has honorably sustain- ed the noble character of his lineage — noble not by ancestral heraldric bearings and titled names, but for public and private worth, and every virtue which constitutes the character of the patriot and christian. His life is now in the " sere and yellow leaf but his energies, both mental and physical are but little impaired by age. After holding several important ofllces of trust, he was chosen in 1824, President of the United States. He served but one term, and was succeeded by Gen. Jackson. Since then, he has almost constantly, from year to year, represented his district in the House of Representatives, which office he now holds. The following notice of an interesting celebra- tion which took place at Quincy a few years since we copy from one of our public journals. The old Church at Quixcy, Mass.— The two hundredth anniversary of the gathering of this Church was celebrated a few days since, and ap- pears to have been an occasion of great interest, though as it fell on the sabbath, few ceremonies were observed. A Discourse was delivered by the Rev. Mr. Lunt, junior pastor of the society, a hymn furnished by the Hon. J. Q. Adams, one of the members, &c. The exercises were in fact on the simple plan of those observed one century before, when the Rev. John Hancock, father of the illustrious patriot of the Revolution, was the sole pastor of this venerable church. This gen tleman's ministry lasted from 1726 to 1745. The present senior incumbent, Mr. Whitney, has oc- cupied his situation about forty years. Many circumstances correspond to give inter- est to this commemoration. Mount Wollaston, as Quincy was first called, was settled as early as 1625, five years only after Plymouth, and five be- fore Boston ; and it is supposed to have been the first permanent settlement in the Massachusetts Colony. Great names too are connected with this humble institution. We are told by the Bos- ton Register that among the early baptismal rec- ords of the century now closed, is written the name of ' John, son of John Adams,' a name which has been since deeper written in the history of our nation and in the hearts of men The church counts him among her sons — his fa- ther waited at her table ; and he was at his death her oldest member. Rarely was he absent from the services of the Sabbath, and he now lies be- neath the stone Temple which his munificence endowed, and which but lately has risen, a con- necting link between the centuries which have gone and the future. Inscribed on the same rec- ords, and from the pen of the same pastor, is the name of '■'■John Hancock my son." Ajrain, it appears that from this ancient church in July, 1767, John Quincy Adams received the sign of baptism, and on the list of her communi- cants his name is enrolled. Thus has this little Society, founded in feebleness, nurtured in its bosom two of the Presidents of the Union, and the President of that glorious body which issued the Declaration of American Independence. To these names may be added that of Quincy also, hardly less distinguished. Edmund, thf progen- itor of ail that race, was one of the earliest mem- bers and founders of this Church. Those of our readers familiar with the accus- tonned observances pf our New England brethren 240 on llii'sc Dccrisions, will be prepared to hear that i the p>iihii> were sung' from the collection pulilish- i cd at Cambridge in 1640, by Messrs. Weld and Eliot, ministers of Roxbury, and Mather of Dor- chester,— the tirst book printed in America, and j used by the early church. The Psalm at the close of the afternoon service, was, after the an- cient manner, line by line, alternately read and sung by the minister and choir. The following is the hymn written for the oc- casion by Hon. John Q. Adams. THE HOUR-GLASS. Alas ! how swift the moments fly ! How flash the years along ! Scarce here, yet gone already by ; The burden of a song. See childliood, youth, and manhood pass, And age with furrowed brow ; Time was — Time shall be, drain the glass — But where in time is now ? Time is the measure but of change : No present hour is found, The past, the future fill the range Of Time's unceasing round. Where then is now \ In realms above, With God's atoning Lamb, In regions of eternal love. Where sits enthroned I AM. Then, Pilgrim, let thy joys and tears On Time no longer lean ; But henceforth all thy hopes and fears, From earth's aflcctions wean. To God let votive accents rise ; With truth, with virtue live ; So all the bliss that Time denies. Eternity shall give. TO A REDBREAST. Little bird, with bosom red. Welcome to itiy liuruble shed. Courtly dames, of hir:h degree, Have no rouiii for thee or me. Pride and plii-asure's fickle throng Notliinc mind Mn idle song. Daily UL'nr my table steal, While I p'ck niy scanty ineal. Doubt not, little ibnugli there be, V.ul I'll cast a cnimb to ihee : * Well rewarded, if I S|)y, Pleasure in thy pbxncingeye — See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill, Plume thy brenst, and wine thy bill. Come, my feather'd friend, again : Well thou ktiow'st the broken pane. Ask of me thy daily store : Go not near Avnro's door. Once within his iron hall, Woful end shrill thee befall. .Savage, he would soon divest Of its rosy plumes thy breast; Then, with solitary joy. Eat tnee, bones and all, my boy. THE SISTERLESS. BT JOSEPH L. CHESTER. Iflltten In Uie Allium of a dead sister, immediately after the decease of anottier.l Sweet sister ! art thou dead 1 I seem to feel Thy gentle presence near me, as I sit Within the room where I was wont to steal Ueside thy dying couch. Blest visions Bit Before me, as the sorrowing tear I shed; — Surely, sweet sister ! thou can'st not be dead ! Thv form is absent — I no longer see Thy gentle face, and love-e.\pressing eye. Whose fondest glance was often turned on me, E'en in thy hours of deepest agony : — And yet, canst thou be dead, when day and night I see that eye in all its meteor light 1 I know thy lip no longer meeteth mine, In those long kisses of ecstatic love ; Those lips, more rosy than the richest wine, Have found another object far above : — And yet, I fancy oft at eve's still hour, I feel thy kiss in all its burning power. I see thee in the slumb'rous hour of night. When sleep hath wrapped ine in her dreamy wing ; I see thee in a vision blest and bright. And press thy hand, and hear thee sweetly sing :— Surely, sweet sister ! thou canst not be dead. When such blest visions on my sleep are shed. Alas ! alas ! I have no sister now ! For she, on whom I placed my every trust , When first thou left me here, hath died as thou. And yielded up, like thou, her form to dust. Her soul to God who gave it. All alone, I breathe upon the air my sorrowing moan. I have no sister now ! Oh ! blame me not. If from mine eve I cannot keep the tear ;^ A sister's love can never be forgot. And she to my lone heart was doubly dear. I have no sister now ! Oh ! let me weep. And o'er her grave my lonely vigils keep. Oh ! blame me not, if my o'erburdened heart, Be almost bursting in its wild excess. Alas ! it is a dreadful lot to part For ever with a sister's fond caress — To feel no more her kiss upon my cheek — Nor meet her glancing eye — nor hear her speak. Alas ! I am a lonely being now — Shut out for ever from a sister's love. My young heart hath been early taught to bow, And mourn its loss as doth the widowed dove. Forgive me, then, if on my youthful face. The hand of sorrow leaveth many a trace. Forgive me, if my voice no more is heard To breathe the merry tones of former Jays — And blame me not, if grief should tinge each word ; And oh ! forbear within iny heart to gaze ;— For lowly I have been constrained to bow — Alas ! alas 1 I have no sister now ' New York, Scptembtr 20, 183S 241 VIEW OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK. Odr readers will perceive, that we have been am- ple in our illustrations of American subjects, in the preceding part of this work. In continuance of our design, we now present a view of the city of New York, as it is, from a beautiful design by a distin- guished artist : and as farther interesting, we also give the view of the city in 1673, that the reader may the more readily perceive the radical change it has undergone since then. To that highly distinguished gentleman. Professor J. W. Francis, we are indebted for the extracts which follow, descriptive of the great Commercial Metropoliii of the Union. They are taken from an elaborate and minute account of New York and its institutions, by Dr. F., published in Hinton's United Slates, Vol. II., printed in 1834. Nkw Yoric is the chief city of the state of New York, and the most populous and commerciiil town in the United States. It is situate on York Island, at the confluence of Hudson and East rivers, in lat. 40° 42' 45" N. and 74° 4' W. Ion. from Green- wich ; or 3° 14' 15" E. from the city of Wash- ington. The island is essentially primitive, and consists mainly of one formation, gneiss. It is about four- teen and a half miles long from N. to S., and vary- ing in breadth from half a mile to nearly two miles, comprehending about twenty-one and a half square miles. The limits of the city and county are the same, and the oidv legal subdivisions are the wards, at present fifteen in number. It is separated on the north from the continental part of the state by Har- lem river ; from New Jersey on the west by the river Hudson ; from Stalen Island on the south by the bay or harbour ; and by the East river from Long Island. The city of New York was originally settled by the Dutch, in 1614, and its progress has been, since the revolutionary war, rapid beyond precedent, in numbers, wealth, commerce, and improvements. According to the researches of a writer on Ameri- can Antiquities,* Henry Hudson arrived at the island of Manhattan, (York Island,) called by the natives Manhadoes, on the fourth of September, 1609, then occupied by a ferocious tribe of Indians ; he naviga- indced the only cities at that time in the colony were called after his title. Richard Blome, in his book entitled " The Present State of his Majesties Isles and Territories in Amer- ica," printed at London, in 1687, in discoursing on these occurrences, thus expresses himself ; — " New York was first discovered by Mr. Hudson, and sold presently by him to the Dutch, without authority from his sovereign, the king of England, in 1608. The Hollanders, in 1614, began to plant there, and called it New Netherland ; but Sir Samuel Argal, governour of Virginia, routed them ; after which, they got leave of King James to put in there for fresh water, in their passage to Brazil, and did not offer to plant till a good while after the English were settled in the country. In 1664, his late majesty King Charles the Second, sent over four commissioners to reduce the colony into bounds, that had been en- croached by each other, who marched with three hundred red coats to Manhadees, and took from the Dutch the chief town, then called New Amsterdam, now New York, and August twenly-nine, turned out their governour with a silver leg, and all the rest but those who acknowledged subjection to the king of England ; suffering them to enjoy their houses and estates as before. Thirteen days after. Sir Robert Car took the fort and town of Aurania, now called Albany ; and twelve days after that, the fort and town of Arasapha, then Delaware Castle, manned with Dutch and Swedes ; so that now the English are masters of three handsome towns, three strong forts, and a castle, without the loss of one man. The first governour of these parts for the king of England was Col. Nicols, one the commissioners." Herman Moll, geographer, who published in Lon- don, in 1708, the British Empire in America, 2 vols, 8 mo., in his account of the city of New York, states it to have at that time contained one thousand houses, most of them "very well built." The great church [Trinity] was built in 1695. A library, he states, was erected in 1700 ; and the Dutch built mills to saw timber, " one of which would do more in an hour than fifty men in two days."t Tradition reports, that the first white child was a female, of the parentage of Isaac Bedlow, who arrived in New York in 1639, as secretary of the Dutch West In- dia Company ; but records in the New York His- torical Society affirm, that the first child of Euro- pean parentage in New Netherlands, was a Sarah Rapaelje, daughter of Jan Joris Rapaelje, born June 9, 1625. The limited extent of settlements, the age. ted as high as Albany, and on his return to Holland single condition, and peculiar pursuits of those who transferred his right of discovery to the Dutch, who afterward granted it to their West India company. The latter, the next year, sent ships to Manhattan, to trade with the natives. In 1614, a fort was built by the Dutch at the southwest extremity of the island, and another, called Fort Aurania, at Orange, where Albany now stands, which was settled before the city of New Amsterdam, (New York ;) the latter was most probably not permanently occupied until he year 1619. From this period it remained in possession of the Dutch, until the conquest of the colony by the English, in 1664. A few years after, it was granted by Charles II. to his brother James, Duke of York and Albany ; and the two principal, Inlin Pintard, LL. D. 31 had arrived previously to 1625, may, as Moulton remarks, be justly inferred from this fact. The earliest aulhentick record extant of the popu- lation of this city, is of the date of 1656, when several new streets were laid out, and a plan of the town sent to the city of Amsterdam, for the exami- nation and approval of the directors of the West In- dia Trading Coinpany. At that time the village by the name of New Amsterdam contained only one hundred and twenty houses of the humblest descrip- tion, and one thousand inhabitants, including the garrison. Several rough engravings of the city, t Neither of these authorities, Blome nor Moll, are mentioned by Holmes, {Annals,) copious and accurate as is that excellent author, Thu Oklmixon cited by Holmes, is the edition of 1741 the work of Moll and Oldmixon has the imprint of 1708. 242 illustraiive of its appearance at about this time, and for one lumdreil years ufter, are preserved among ihe records ol" the New York Historical Society. In 1686 the first charter was granted which was renewed in 1730, with new privileges. POPULATION AT DIFFERENT PERIODS. 1696, 4,302 1800, 60,489 1731, 6,6-28 1810, 96,373 1756, 10,381 1820, 123,706 1773, 21,876 1825, 167,059 1786, 23,614 1830, 203,007 1790, 33,131 1832, 213,500 Averaging somewhat more than a tenth part of the entire iiopulalion of the state. The most compact part of the city is at its south- ern extremity, whence it extends on the north side along the course of the Hudson river, about two and three ([uartcrs of a mile, and along the East river, from the southwest angle of the battery, three miles ; its circuit about eight and a half miles. The ancient irregularity of the city has been materially corrected by recent improvements ; the upper, or northern parts have been laid out with systematick regularity. Many of the streets are spacious, running in right lines, and intersected by others at right angles ; in short, the whole of the upper portion of the city is laid out in this manner, and tliough the spirit of im- provement has been active, and at a tremendous ex- pense here, to reduce the siie of New York, to an entire level, there is a gentle ascent from Hudson and East rivers, and a commanding view of the city is afl'orded. The most distinguished streets are Broadway, commencing at the Battery, and running north by east nearly three miles, Greenwich street. Wall street, Pearl street. South street. Canal street. Grand street, the Bowery, East Broadway, &c., &c. Besides the Battery, a delightful promenade at the lowest or southern portion of the city, there are several open squares, which serve the important purposes of ventilation and health, as the Park, Hudson square, Washington square, Hamilton square, Lafayette place. Union place, Clinton square. The approach toward the city on the north, has also been made more advantageous by several new roads, denominated avenues, agreeably to a plan of the late Gouverneur Morris and Ue Witt Clinton. The materials of which the earlier buildings of the city were constructed, were wood and bricks, imported from Holland. The style of architecture was steep roofs, tiled gables to the streets and alleys between the houses. Speaking of New York, in 1681, Blome remarks, the town is large, containing about five hundred well-built houses, built witli Dutch brick, and the meanest not valued under one hundred pounds. Of this latter construction not an edifice now remains ; the last of this character, situate in Broad street, and bearing date, according to the Dutch fashion, 1698, having been torn down for modern architecture in the spring of 1831. The wooden edifices are comparatively few in number, and are chiefly located in the suburbs. The modern taste iu building is almost exclusively confined to brick, though a few houses in different places are constructed either of granite, free-stone, or of mar- ble, obtained within the neighbourhood. The prin- cipal streets and publick buildings and stores are lighted by gas, under the management of the Gas Light Company, which went into successful opera- tion in 1825. Bay and Harheur. — The bay and harbour of New York may bo classed among the most convenient and beautiful in the world ; the banks are bold, and the bay interspersed with many handsome islands ; the city and surrounding land, when viewed on the bay in approaching the city, present a scene truly charming and picturesque, and excite general ad- miration. The bay may be estimated at nine miles long and five broad, without including the branches of the rivers each side of the city. From the ocean, Sandy Hook, to the city at the head of the bay, is about twenty miles. The water is of sufficient depth to float the largest vessels, and ships of one hundred and ten guns have anchored opposite tho city. On the bar at Sandy Hook, the depth of wa- ter at high tide is twsnty-seveu feet, and at low- water twenty-one feet ; from thence to the city the channel has a depth of from forty to fifty feet. In describing the bay of New York, a late En- glish traveller thus writes : — " I have never seen the bay of Naples. 1 can therefore make no compari- son ; but niy imagination is incapable of conceiving anything more beautiful than the harbour of New York. Various and lovely are the objects which meet the eye on every side ; but the naming of them would only be to give a list of words, without giving the faintest idea of the scene. I doubt if ever the pencil of Turner could do it justice, bright and glo- rious as it rose upon us. We seemed to enter the harbour of New York upon waves of liquid gold ; and as wo dashed past the green isles which rise from its bosom like guardian sentinels of the fair city, the setting sun stretched his horizontal beams further and further, at each moment, as if to point out to us some new glory in the landscape." It has been repeatedly observed, that the cold of winter has less effect upon the waters of New York harbour, than in several places further south. The usual tides are about six feet, and this, with the greater rapidity of the currents, may be looked upon as the prominent cause why so rarely inconvenience is experienced from the formation of ice. During the severe winter of 1780-1, the harbour, however, was covered by a bridge of compact ice ; and again, in the memorable winter 1820-1, the harbour and the branches of the two rivers were obstructed by the same cause for many days. At this time the inten- sity of the cold was manifested by the thermome- ter ranging several degrees below of Fahrenheit. According to the reports made by the ward asses- sors of the amount of real and personal estate of the city of New York, it has been stated in 1828, as personal, thirty-six millions eight hundred and seven- ty-nine thousand six hundred and fifty-three dollars ; as real, seventy-seven millions of dollars. In 1 829, as personal and real, somewhat less : but these estimates must be deemed as entirely too low. Ac- cording to the details furnished in a valuable statis- tical work, (The New York Register,) the assessed valuation of the real and personal estate in the sev- eral counties in the state of New York, for the year 1833, amounted to four hundred and sixteen millions four hundred and eighty-one thousand one hundred and thirteen dollars ; whereof the county of New York embraced as real, one hundred and 245 fourteen millions one hundred and twenty-nine thousand five hundred and sixty-one dollars ; as per- sonal, fifty-two millions three hundred and sixty- five thousand six hundred and twentv-six : total, one hundred and sixty-six millions four hundred and ninety-five thousand one hundred and eighty-seven dollars. The whole of the bank capital in the city of New York is about twenty millions of dollars. The aggregate capital of the marine and fire-ensur- ance, and other incorporated companies, may be put down at thirteen millions of dollars. According to a late statement made by Alderman Stevens to the corporation, when on the discussion of the report in favour of introducing pure and wholesome water into the city ; the number of dwelling-houses, stores, manufactories, and churches, was valued at seventy- five millions of dollars; the merchandise in the city at fifty millions ; hence, the total value of buildings and merchandise is one hundred and twenty-five millions of dollars. But this estimate may be safely doubled. The New York City Marble Cemetery is situated in the block of ground between Second and Third streets, the Bowery and Second Avenue. It is 250 feet in length, 83 feet in breadth, and surrounded by a wall of solid marble, 2 feet thick, 22 feet in height, 10 feet under and 12 feet above the surface of the ground, and the top covered with broken glass bot- tles. Within these walls are placed 156 vaults, in four ranges, 2 single and 2 double, and these also are built of solid marble. There is also within these walls a dead house, built of solid marble, and placed on the surface of the ground. Opposite to this cemetery is the New York Mar- ble Cemetery, situated in the adjoining block of ground, between Second and Third street, and First and Second Avenue. It is 450 feet in length, 92 feet in width, and surrounded by a wall of solid mar- ble, 2 feet thick, 22 feet in height, 10 under and 12 above the surface of the earth. Within these walls are placed 288 vaults, in 6 ranges, the same as in the first cemetery, with all the improvements capa- ble of being made. Each vault has a silver gray stone door, composition hinges and locks, flagged, shelved, and coped with the same kind of stone. Every vault has a tablet of white marble placed on the wall opposite, giving the name of the owner. Both of these cemeteries are incorporated by the state legislature, for the burying of the dead for ever, and for no other purpose ; freeof taxation, judgement and execution ; made personal property, and trans- ferable by stock, the same as bank stock. They are placed on a bed of dry sand, 35 feet above any spring of water, forming a complete dry cispool, free from mould and dampness, which is so usual in vaults built of brick, red or blue stone. The diversified forms which the decay of the hu- man body after death assumes, seems to be no less numerous than the immense variety of causes by which life becomes extinct. The evidence of this assertion may be witnessed by any one who will en- ter a vault containing many bodies deposited therein at different periods, more or less remote, and observe the materials with which he is surrounded : season, age, the character of disease, protracted illness, sud- den death, &c., will all exercise a greater or less influence in facilitating or in retarding decomposition. The deceased subject by marasmus will longer retain its constituents than one occasioned by dropsy, for " water is a sore decayer of the dead body." If these positions be correct, we may account for the extraordinary preservation of bodies in these cemete- ries, by adverting to the dry soil they occupy, their structure of limestone, &c., and the admirable man- ner in which they are built. Hence they possess advantages which are denied to vaults in the struc- ture of which similar precautions have not been ob- served. In reflecting upon the manner in which the marble cemetery seems to cherish the lineaments of our mortal remains, one feels inclined to adopt the language of old Jeremy Taylor ; " after all, our vaults are our longest and sincerest mourners." The mar- ble cemeteries were projected through the enterprise of Perkins Nicols. Literary and Scientifick Societies. — There are several associations in New York whose prom- inent object is the promotion of general and scien- tifick knowledge. The following are the most im- portant: New York Historical Society. — This association originated from the example of the Massachusetts Historical Society. Its commencement was in 1804, and an act of incorporation was obtained in 1809. Its professed object is to collect and preserve what- ever is best calculated to illustrate the natural, civil, political and ecclesiastical history of the United States, and the slate of New York in particular. That the society has not been unmindful of this high trust, its extensive and unique library of ten thousand volumes, embracing materials for the American his- torian, its cabinet of medals, maps, engravings, and valuable MSS., abundantly evince. It has publish- ed several volumes of Collections, illustrative chiefly of facts and circumstances in American history. Its most efficient founder was John Pintard. This so- ciety has recently obtained an admirable location in Broadway. Literary and Philosophical Society. — This associ- ation originated in 1814, and was incorporated by an act of the legislature the same year. It has pub- lished one volume of transactions, quarto, which contains among other matters the inaugural discourse of its first president, De Witt Clinton, LL. D. The second volume, part first, is enriched with the results of Capt. Sabine's late e.xperiments. Lyceum of Natural History. — This society was in- corporated in 1818. It possesses a valuable cabi- net of minerals, an herbarium of great extent, a rich cabinet of zoology, ichthyology, &c., &c. No insti- tution in the state has so ably and so zealously devo- ted itself to the important object of its formation, and its printed transactions, in several volumes, are ex- tensively known and commended. Its most distin- guished patron was the late Samuel L. Mitchill, M. D., LL. D. who long held the office of president. Horticultural Society. — Incorporated in March, 1822. This association has eff"ectively directed its energies to the best means of improving the cultiva- tion of our vegetable productions, and to the accli- mation of exoticks of an esculent nature. It has ac- quired a substantial reputation for the services it has rendered horticultural science. A periodical journal 246 under its auspices is published in the city. The society, besides ordinary members, has honorary and corresponding members. Academy nf Arts. — This is the oldest institution of its kind in the United States. It was commenced in 1801. Among those who suggested the plan of tlie uiKlertaking, and who have zealous!}' patronised it, might be enumerated the names of several gen- tlemen of the first importance in the state. The properly of this association consists of a large collection of fine paintings, among which are a por- trait of their former president, Chancellor Livings- ton, and a full-length portrait of Benjamin West, painted by Lawrence, a large collection of antiques, statues, busts, bas-reliefs, and a library of books on the fine arts. Besides these treasures, the society possesses a copy of the engravings and views of Piranesi, in twenty-four superb volumes, presented to the Academy by Napoleon. The accommoda- tions of the institution are well calculated for the purposes of its exhibition and are situate in Barclay street, near the Park. The members are divided into academicians and associates : the former must be artists by profession. The venerable historical painter, John Trumbull, Esq. is the present pres- ident. National Academy of the Arts i>f /)?.?!«■«.— The enterprise of a number of young gentlemen, artists and amateurs, gave origin to this association. It was organized in 1826, and opened its first exhibi- tion in a private room in Broadway. They have recently been acconunodated with suitable apart- ments in Clinton Hall. None but the productions of living artists are admitted for exhibition. The objects of the society, as announced by them, are the mutual improvement of its members, and the in- struction of all others who wish to become students of the arts of design. To secure these intentions, lectures are delivered, and apparatus and models furnished to the pupil. Ncm York Society Library. — The beginning of this society may be dated back as far as 1739 ; it is the oldest and most valuable library in the slate, and contains upward of twenty-five thousand volumes on the various subjects of general literature, theol- ogy, history, law, iiu'dicine, political economy, &c. The building which it occupies is situate in Nassau street, opposite the middle Reformed Dutch Church. It is supported by the annual subscription of its members. The AthcncBvm. — This is a recent establishment, which was formed in 1824. Its objects are to sus- tain a library and reading room, to maintain lectures on various branches of general literature and sci- ence, &c. Medical Society of the City and County of New York. — This is an institution created in conformity to a law of the legislature, passed in 1806, organi- zing medical societies throughout the different coun- ties of the state. Literary In.^li/utwns. — The literary institutions of New York are numerous, but for the most pari in their infancy. By far the most venerable and im- portant is Columbia College, founded by charter in 1754, under the name of King's College, partly by the munificence of the corporation of Trinity Church, and partly by the British Society for the Promotion of the Gospel in foreign parts. During the interval which elapsed between the years 1776 and 1784 the business of instruction was necessarily suspend- ed in consequence of the trials of the revolutionary contest, and the college edifice appropriated to the < purpose of a military hospital. Upon the restora- tion of publick tranquillity, certain individuals were j appointed by an act of the legislature, dated May 1, 1784, to superintend the general interests of edu- cation throughout tiie state, under the title of Re- gents of the University, whose number was subse- quently increased by an act passed 26th November in the same year. By this body the duties of trust- ees of the college were also discharged, until the year 1787. On the 13th of April, 1787, an act was passed by which the original charter of the college was confirmed, the name of the institution altered to Columbia College, and its direction confided to cer tain persons mentioned in said act, who were author ized by the provisions of the same to discharge the duties of trustees of the college, and were empow- ered, for the time to come, to fill all vacancies which might occur in this number by death, resignation, or otherwise, after it should be diminished to twenty- four. The government of the college has contin ued to be exercised in conformity with this act since that time. Columbia College is liberally endowed, posses- sing property to the amount of nearly half a million of dollars. It was formerly composed of a Facul- ty of Arts, and a Faculty of Physick. The latter was abolished in 1813. The Faculty of Arls con- sists at present of a professorship of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy, Rhetorick, Belles Letters and Political Economy ; a professorship of Greek and Latin Languages, a Jay-professorship of the same, a professorship of Natural and Experimental Phi- losophy and Chymistry, a professorship of .Mathe- maticks. Analytical Mechanicks, and physical .Astron- omy. Certain branches of instruction and ihe gen- eral superintendence of the college are commitled to the charge of the president of the college, who is chosen by the trustees. The number of students is generally about one hundred and thirty. There are two literary societies connected with the col- lege, composed of under graduates, the Philolexian and Peithologian societies, and a grammar-school recently organized, containing upward of two hun- dred students, subject to the government of the trus- tees of the college. The number of graduates of Columbia College since its foundalioii is about eleven hundred ; many of whom have been eminent in the service of the church and state. In no other college in the union, are the requisites of candidates for admission as students of the respective classes so high, and in none are the several courses of studies more exten- sively or critically taught, particularly in the clas.>i- cal and mathematical departments. While reflect- ing on the capabilities and doings of ibis college, one may equally marvel thai the number of its students has for so many years remained stationary, as at the unmeri.ed success of some greatly inferiour in- stitutions. Columbia College possesses an excel- lent library of about four thousand five hundred vol- umes and which has been recently enriched by a large donation of philosophical works, the gift of Dr. Hosack. This institution enjoys an admirable i1i£!i^''!'':iliii'ilihiViiiii' '■''■ •2!9 location in a commanding part of the city : it is one of the finest specimens of architecture in New Yo:Ii. University uf the City of New York. — This is the name of a college recently projected by a number of gentlemen of New York, and de.signed to embrace a more extensive system of literature and science than any heretofore established. A literary con- vention was held in the city in October, 1829, with a view to Us formation ; subscriptions to a con- siderable amount have been already obtained among the cilizens for this object; a board of council has been cliosen, by whom the Rev. James Matthews, D. D. has been chosen chancellor of the institution. It is declared as a distinctive character of this es- tablishment to enjoy an entire exclusion of all sec- tarian influence. At this present wriiing, an edifice of great beauty, and of very considerable extent is erecting on the east side of the Washington Pa- rade Ground. It is two hundred feet long, and one hundred feet deep ; it is in the castellated Gothick style, four stories on the wings- -two in the centre, one of which forms the chapel. It is built of the white marble of Sing Sing. The plan was origin- ally suggested by Major Douglas, of West Point ; its architectural disposition, by Town, Davis, and Day- ton. The whole business of the institution seems to be in a train of successful progress. The several fatuities are divided into a Faculty of Letters, a Fac- ulty of Science and the Arts, a Faculty of Law, and a Facultv of Medicine. The General Theological Seminary of the Protest- ant Episcopal Church of the United States. — This institution is situated about two miles from the City- Hall, on the eastern bank of Hudson river. The block of land on which the seminary is located is an oblong square of eight hundred by one hundred and eighty feet ; the present value of which is sixty thou- sand dollars, and was presented to the seminary by Clement Moore, son of the late Right Rev. Benja- min Moore, D. D. The present building is one wing of those con- templated, whenever the funds of the institution will enable the trustees to complete the design, and is a spacious stone edifice of Gothick architecture, one hundred and ten feet in length, sixty feet wide, and three stories high. At this seminary (instituted in 1819, partly by the funds of the Episcopal church and partly by a liberal bequest of the late Jacob Sherred of this city) about one hundred and fortj- candidates have been prepared for the ministry. The late Mr. John Kohn of Philadelphia has recently bequeathed to this institution one hundred thousand dollars, on the demise of his widow ; at present it relies for support in a great measure on the liberality of the friends of the church. The faculty consists of a Professor of Biblical Learning and the Interpre- tation of the Scriptures, a Professor of Systematick Divinity, of Oriental and Greek Literature, and also a Professorship of the Nature, Ministry, and Polity of the church. The condition of the institution is most flattering to the interests of theology ; and the number of students is rapidly on the increase. Mercantile Library Association. — This institution was organized in 1821, and occupies appropriate apartments in that substantial and superiour edifice denominated Clinton Hall. An elegant lecture-room is provided, in which lectures are delivered on sev- eral branches of the physical and ethical sciences. 32 The present number of jubscrihers is fifteen hun- dred and twenty-five ; the library ((insists of about nine thousand volumes. The annual income derived from various sources, is near three thousand dollars. Active zeal and rigorous enterprise characterize this institution, and no small share of its present flalter- ing condition is owing to the liberality of Philip Hone, lale Mayor of New York. General Soriety oj Mechanicks and Tradesmen. — This society was incorporated in 1792, and was originallv designed for the purpose of afl'ording aid to the widows and children ol deceased members, which it has cfTectuall)' done, to a large amount an- nually. Meeting with flattering support, it estab- lished a school for the education of the children of deceased members whose circumstances required their assistance, and subsequently the school was enlarged so as to acconwnodaie many of the children, bolh male and female, of the more wealthy members, whose attention was attracted to the school bv the high character it maintains, and which it yet fully sustains ; by this arrangement the tuition fees of those who pay, defray the whole expenses of the establishment. The children are all alike educated, and the distinction, always odious, between those who do and those who do not pay, is imknown in this valuable school. Some years ago the society enlarged the sphere of its usefulness by the estab- lishment of a library, for the exclusive and gratu- itous use of the apprentices of mechanicks. The library is open every evening, (excepting on Sun- days,) and contains about twelve thousand volumes : the number ol readers now amount to fifleen hun- dred. A more spacious building has recently been purchased, which will enable the society to enlarge the school and library, and add thereto reading rooms for the apprentices of mechanicks. The society is conspicuous among the many valuable institutions of New York, and has exercised a large and salu- tary influence on those for whose immediate benefit it was specially designed. The amount of its prop- erly is estimated at seventy-five thousand dollars, and its annual revenue at four thousand five hundred dollars. Charactt'. — The multitudinous population of this city presents an endless variety in manners and char- acter. A liberality of feeling and unafiected hospi- tality have been the result. Active industry and enterjirise (often bordering on rashness) are the prevailing characterislicks of all classes. Amidst a strong devotion to wealth, it is gratifying to perceive that an attention to higher objects has not been over- looked. Her publick school system, her Sunday, and infant schools, her temperance societies, her in- numerable charities, all promise a net reward to their benevolent founders. The respective liberal professions may boast many members of the highest attainments, who tend to difluse through the various classes of society a proper respect for literature, sci- ence, and the elegant arts. This commercial em- porium is not unworthy the name by which she is recognised, and may, above all, claim that, whether the avenues to her trade have been closed by legis- laiive restrictions, or during the unprofitable contest of arms, her fidelity to the union has never for a mo- ment been (luestioned. 250 VIEW IN BROADWAY. The accompanying view is from the corner op- posite St. Paul's Church, looking towards the north, and takes in the Astor-House, the American Hotel, &c., &c., on the one side ; and the Park, with its stately trees, and the City Hall on the other. The AstoT House. " This house is situated in Broadway, and occupies the block between Vesey and Barclay streets, opposite the Park. Its front on Broadway is about two hundred feet, and is one hun- dred and fifty feet on Barclay and Vesey streets. The exteriour is of Quiucy granite. It is five sto- ries in height. The wings of the building form a hollow square, the yard being in the centre — so that the rooms on all sides receive light and air from the streets and centre. The lower story of the building is occupied by stores ; they are fifteen in number, ten on Broadway and five on Vesey and Barclay streets. The main entrance to the hotel is in the centre of the building on Broadway ; it has also en- trances on the other streets abovenamed. The main entrance opens to a splendid vestibule, support- ed by columns, the floor of which is of Mosaick work, of blue and white marble. The gentlemen's dining-room is one hundred by forty feet, with a ceiling nineteen and a half feet high. The ladies' dining-room is sufficiently capacious to seat one hun- dred ladies. The ladies' drawing-room is richly and elegantly furnished with Brussels carpeting, marble tables, ottomans, sofas, and chairs, of splen- did workmanship and costly materials. The rooms throughout are furnished in a simple but beautiful style. With the exception of two or three rooms, the sofas, bnreaus, tables, bedsteads, chairs, &c., are made of black walnut, which has a rich and sub- stantial appearance, and receives a polish like mahog- any. The hotel is lighted with gas, and there are water-closets attached to each suite of rooms. The kitchen occupies a room on one of the wings. The arrangements for roasting, frying, boiling, &c., are upon the most approved methods, the cooking being done by steam. The cooks are all French. A baker is employed for the house. Under the kitchen is a spacicnis washing-room and room for ironing and drying clothes by heat from steam. There are seventeen bathing-rooms and two shower-baths; the water for their supply comes from cisterns or reservoirs in the attick of the building, conveyed be- low by leaden pipes to all the rooms of the building. By a force-pump, water is also distributed through all the rooms. By the multiplication of stationary wash-tubs, and the power of steam, clothes may be washed, dried, and ready for use, in half an hour af- ter they are given uut. The drving process is ac- complished in five minutes, by s[)reading tlie clothes on wooden horses running on railroads, and lead in- to a large close apartmi'iit healed to a verv high temperature bv steam. A rotary steam-eiigiiie pumps water, supplies steam to the kitchen, wash-room, (fee, cleans the kn.v'es and forks, boots and shoes, and has in reserve power enough for other uses. There are three himdred and eight rooms for boarders. Whole number of rooms three hundrpd and ninety. The yard is flagged throughout. Thfe water from the kitchen is carried off by a sewer in- to the North river. The furniture cost ninety tliint- sand dollars, including about eight thousand dollars worth of silver, end ten or twelve of plate ware. Eighty servants attend on the establishment. In the house are four hundred locks, no two of which can be opened by the same key." We extract from the " Crayon Sketches," one en- titled a " Walk in Broadway." " Broadway, however, is a very fine street, the long- est. It is said, in a direct line, in the world. There is not any thing particularly splendid in it, and the stores, in general, are neither large nor elegant, with an unseemly disproportion of lottery offices among them ; but the almost imbroken line of respectable houses, neatly painted, and shaded by lofty trees, gives it an air of substantial comfort, and at the same time of lightness and freshness, highly desirable. It is pleasant to stroll along it ; or, indeed, the princi- pal street of any large city. What a motley group of beings — alike, yet how different — arc daily pres- sing and hurrying over its pavements ! What a mul- tiplicity of hopes, and fears, and petty plans, and lofty schemes, are unceasingly fermenting in the bo- som of every individual that moves along the narrow footwalks ! Yet it is not the variety of human pas- sions that makes the wonder, for joy and sorrow, love and hate, pride, vanity, interest, and ambition, are common to all ; but the endless combinations formed by those passions according to the different degrees in which they preponderate and act on dif- ferent individuals, and on the same individuals in different situations. Take up an arithmetick, and ten simple figures form the ground-work ; yet how many million combinations, and no two alike, can be created by these ten figures. So it is with man and his concerns. And still, despite the individual vari- ety, what a general sameness prevails. The hopes, and cares, and joys, and sorrows of one day are like the hopes, and cares, and joys, and sorrows of the next ; and the same drama that is hourly felt and acted in the streets of New York, is playing with equal animation amid the wealth and smoke of Lon- don, and the sunshine and poverty of Naples — the gravity of Madrid, and the gayety of Paris. Two thousand years ago, the " eternal city" had her belles and beaux, her flirts and dandies (a Roman dandy!)— and two thousand years hence, or less time, will the cannibals of New Zealand have es- chewed war-dances and raw victuals, and have their blue-stocking tea-parties, biscuit and lemonade soir- ees, French cooks, and fashionable quadrilles, as well as anybody. All is still " The everlaoting to be, that hath been ;" and the probability is that the antediluvians wrote poetry, told lies, wore whiskers, and cheated their neighbours, just as we do now. It is also pleasant, as well as curious and profita- ble, in roauung through a large city, to contrast its present with its former situation — to compare what it has been with what it is, and to speculate on what it may be. Now York, to be sure, is not rich in historical recollections, for she is comparatively a thing of yesterday. In walking her streets, we do not feel as in the ancient capitals of Europe, that our footsteps, perchance, fall on the very places where those of the mighty dead have fallen before us. In the older streets of London, we know that 253 we are walking where Richard, Duke of Gloucester, " high-reaching Buckingham," or Harry Hotspur, actually walked, and that Shakspeare and Milton familiarly trod even where we then tread ; or the High street of Edinburgh — where the Leslie and the Seyton, the Gordon and the Douglas, were wont foolishly and gallantly to stab and dirk each other for the " crown o' the causeway." True, all is now commonplace and familiar ; the merchant plods homeward with his umbrella under his arm, instead of his rapier by his side. But great as the change is there from the past to the present, it has still been gradual. Step by step have they toiled their way from barbarism to civilization. Here, it has been as the shifting of the scenery in a play, rather than sober reality. It is but as the other day when the forests flourished where now " merchants most do congregate," and the streamlet murmured where the gin-shop stands. The council-fires blazed and the sachems spoke to their young men where now the honourable Richard Riker and the honour- able the corporation hold " long talks" about small matters. The wigwam sent its tiny wreaths of smoke into the clear air, where now the bank coffee-house pours forth volumes of odoriferous steam to mingle with the masses of vapour that overhang the city like a cloud ; and its tables groan with " all the del- icacies of the season" where the deer from the wood and the fish from the stream, were cooked and eaten without the aid of pepper and salt — two of the great- est blessings of civilization. And not more different than the scenes were the actors concerned in them. Step aside, good reader, and mark them as they now pass along Broadway. The first is one but little known to Indian life — one who lives by the folly and roguery of the fouls and rogues around him — a lawyer. He is clad in solemn black, as if that were ominous of the gloom which follows in his train. What would the !iidi;in, with his untaught natural sense of right and wrong, think of this man's " quiddets, his quillets, his ciisfs, his tenures, and his tricks ;" and of " his statutes, his recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers, and his recoveries?" Alas! the poor Indian has but too deeply felt his power and the power iif lii.s brethren in the modern " black art." They conjur- ed away his pleasant haunts, "under the greenwood tree," his silver streams teeming with life, his beau- tiful lakes and fair hunting-grounds, all "according to law," and left him a string of beads and a bottle of fire-water, a bruised heart and a broken spirit in their place. Here comes another product of the present times, neither rare nor valuable, indigenous to Broad- way, and flourishing there in peculiar rankness ; a modern Sir Fopling Flutter, of whom it may well be said with the poet, " Nature disclaims the thing— a tailor made him !" Mark with what affected effeminacy the full-grown baby lounges along, and the air of listless indiffc^rcnce or slightly awakened surprise with which it is his pleasure to regard a fine woman ; but what indeed, are all the women in the world to this caricature of manhood, in comparison with his own sweet self ? Anon, another variety of the same genus appears, quite as contemptible, not so amusing, and a great deal more disagreeable. This is your ruffian-dandy ; one who affects a dashing carelessness in his dress and deportment, wears good clothes in a very ill fashion, and has generally a checked shirt, a sailor's hat, or some other article of dress sufficiently differ- ent from the ordinary costume of those around him to render him an object of notoriety. Mark the easy dignity of that swagger as he rolls along, staring impudently at all the women and frowning valiantly at all the men, as if he expected every moment to be insulted, and was afraid his courage might not be screwed up " to the sticking point." A sort of per- sonage not unlike Mike Lamboiurne in Kenilworth, allowing for the modifications of the limes. But lo! what comes next — dame nature's loveliest work, a woman ; but, heaven and earth ! how the mantua- maker has spoiled her ! Why, what frippery have we here ? Silks and lace, ribands and gauze, feath- ers, flowers, and flounces ! Not but that these are all excellent things in their way, when judiciously used ; but to see them all clustered, as in the pres- ent instance, on one woman at one lime, is what the proverb states to be " too much of a good thing," or what the poet terms " wasteful and ridiculous ex- cess." Then look at those sleeves* in which her arms are lost, and that acre of hat upon her head, with a sufficiency of wheat ears and flowers on it, were they real, to feed a family or stock a garden. And see ! as far as the eye can reach it rests on col- ours as varied and fantastical as the butterflies in summer or the leaves in autumn, in which the dear creatures have arraved themselves. Oh, matrimo- ny, matrimony ! thou art indeed becoming a luxury in which the rich and opulent alone will be able to indulge. Nine small children might be supported, but to deck out one of Eve's daughters in this fash- ion three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, is what nothing but a prize in the lottery or a profita- ble bankruptcy is equal to. Still on ihey pass in throngs : the grave and thoughtful student, abstracted from all around, building up his day-dream of fame, fortune, and beauiv, and then in love with the cun- ning coinage of his own brain ; and the rich old merchant, not in love with any thing but still in rap- tures, for cotton has risen an eighth. On they pass, the whiskered Don, the sallow Italian, the bulky Englishman, and the spare Frenchman, all as eager (as a professed moralist might say) in the pursuit of business and pleasure, as if enjoyment were perpet- ual and life eternal ; and all this where, but a little while ago, the wolf made his lair, and the savage his dwelling-place. Verily, as a profound German philosopher acutely though cautiously observed — " Let a man live long enough, and it is probable he will see many changes." WAVES. The depth to which the sea is agitated, even in violent tempests, is not very considerable ; at the depth of twenty feet below what is the level in a calm, the effect is very slight, and at thirty feet it would probably be altogether imperceptible. It may therefore seem difficult to account for the mountain- ous waves encountered by seamen ; but it must be remembered, that the wind is constantly acting, and that one wave is raised on the surface of another, till the accumulation becomes prodigious. • The reader will perceive this was written several years ago. 254 ST. PAUL'S CHURCH, NEW VOKK. This is one of ihe finest edifices of the kind, in the United States. It is situated in Broadway, south of the City Hall, and opposite to Ann street ; and, with the cemetery adjoining, occupies the whole of the square, fronting on Broadway, being four hundred feet by one hundred and eighty. The square is en- closed by a handsome iron railing. The other streets bounding the square are Vesey, Fulton, and Church, facing Broadway ; with a portico of the Ionic order, consisting of four fluted pillars of brown stone, sup- porting a pediment, with a niche in the centre, con- taining a statue of St. Paul. Benealh the portico, and under a large window, is a beautiful marble mon- ument, erected by Congress, lo the memory of Gen- eral Montgomery, who was killed at the storming of Quebec, in 1775. The spire of this church is one of the noblest or- naments of the city ; and is, with the entire building, justlv esteemed one of the best specimens of archi- tecture in the country. It rises from the west end of the house, to the height of two hundred and thirty- four feet. Above the tower, which is one hundred feet high, rises a quadrangular section of Ionic order, with appropriate columns, pilasters and pediments ; the two next stories are octangular, of the Corin- thian and composite orders, supported by columns at the angles ; the whole is crowned A'ith a lofty spire and gilt vane. The church is nine.y feet by seven- ty, and was built in 1765. The interiour is finished in the Corinthian style, with columns supporting an arched ceiling ; and the pulpit and altar are appro- priate to the rest of the interiour. The old Jail in New York. THE OLD J.UL OP THE REVOLUTION. The following description of the old jail, or as it was sometimes called, the provost, is from the pen of an eyewitness, as quoted in Dunlap's History of New York. " The provost was destined for the more notori- ous rebels, civil, naval and military. An admission into this modern bastile was enough to appal the stoutest heart. On the right hand of the main door was Captain Cunningham's quarters, opposite to which was the guard-room. Within the first barri- cade was Sergeant Keefe's apartment. At the en- trance-door two sentinels were always posted by day and night ; two more at the first and second barri- cades, which were grated, barred and chained ; also at the rear door, and on the platform at the grated door at the foot of the second flight of steps, lead- ing to the rooms and cells in the second and third stories. When a prisoner, escorted by soldiers, was led into the hall, the whole guard was paraded, and he was delivered over, with all formality, to Captain Cunningham or his deputy, and questioned as to his name, rank, size, age, &c., all of which were enter- ed in a record-book. What with the bristling of arms, unbolting of bars and locks, clanking of enor- mous iron chains, and a vestibule as dark as Erebus, the unfortunate might well shrink under this infernal sight and parade of tyrannical power, as he crossed the threshold of that door which possibly closed on him for life. But it is not our wish to revive the horrours attendant oti our revolutionary war ; grate- ful to Divine Providence for its propitious issue, we would only remark to the existing and rising gener- ation, that the independence of the United States, and the civil and religious privileges they now enjoy, were achieved and purchased by the blood and suf- ferings of their palriotick forefathers. May they guard and transmit the boon to their latest pos- terity. " The northeast chamber, turning to the left, on the second floor, was appropriated to officers, and characters of superiour rank and distinction, and was called Congress-hall. So closely were they packed, that when they lay down at night to rest, when their bones ached on the hard oak planks, and they wished to turn, it was altogether by word of command, " right — left," being so wedged and compact, as to form almost a solid mass of human bodies. In the daytime the packs and blankets o! the prisoners were suspended around the walls, every precaution being used to keep the rooms ven- tilated, and the walls and floors clean, to prevent jail fever ; and, as the provost was generally crowd- ed with American prisoners, or British culprits of every description, it is really wonderful that infec- tion never broke out within its walls. " In this gloomy terrifick abode were incarcera- ted at different periods many American ofEcers and citizens of distinction, awaiting with sickening hope and tantalizing expectation the protracted period of their exchange and liberation. Could these dumb walls speak, what scenes of anguish, what tales of agonizing wo, might they disclose ! " Among other characters, there were, at the samP time, the famous Colonel Ethan Allen, and Judge Fell, of Bergen county, New Jersey. When Captain Cunningham entertained the young British officers, accustomed to command the provost guard, by dint of curtailing the prisoners' rations, exchanging good for bad provisions, and other embezzlements prac- tised on John Bull, the captain, his deputy, and in- deed the commissaries generally, were enabled to fare sumptuously. In the drunken orgies that usu- ally terminated his dinners, the captain would order the rebel prisoners to turn out and parade, for the amusement of his guests ; pointing them out, ' This is the damned rebel. Colonel Ethan Allen — that a rebel judge, an Englishman,' &.c., &c." View of St- Paul's (Jhuich, ISew Yoik. I New York City Reservoir. NEW YORK CITY RESERVOIR. This building was erected in 1829, by the corpo- ration of New York, for the purpose of supplying the citv with water in cases of fire. It stands in llie Bower}', near thirteenth street, and two miles from the City Hall, on a surface fifty-seven feet above tide-level. The tank or cistern rests on a foinidation of solid stone masonry, forming a circle of forty-four feet diameter and thirty feet high. The tank itself, formed ol' cast-iron plates united by screws and cement, is forly-two feel diameter by twenty feet, six inches, in height, and holds twenty- live hundred hogsheads of water. The whole build- ing rises seventy-five feet above the ground to the top of the tank and is snrmounted by a cupola, ma- king ill all one hundred feet. It I'orms a very pictu- resque object to boats passing through both the East and North rivers. After breaking ground to obtain water, and pene- trating through the earth to the distance of eleven feet, the workmen employed in digging the well of the reservoir, came to the bed of rock forming the base of the city, and extending, in all probability, at variotis depths, to Blackwell's island, and under the waters of the Hudson. Through this rock they bor- ed a well one hundred and thirteen feet in dejith by seventeen feet in diameter, wiili two shafts extend- ing in opposite directions, east and west, seventy- five feet each way, and anoiher branch from the western shaft northerly twenty-two feet. The well is calculated to furnish eight hogsheads of water an hour, which is raised into the tank by a steam-engine of fifteen-horse power. Attached to the bottom of the cistern, is a valve, communicating with a twenty-four-inch pipe, which conveys the water to the main branches in thirteenth street, through which it is conducted to the difTerent 33 sections of the ciiy. All the lines of pipe are fur- nished with hydrants for discharging the water, at intervais of ten or twenty rods, with stop-cocks, &c. Each hydrant will supply two engines with water, the force of wliich is so great, that in case of emer- gency, it can be thrown to any necessary height by attaching the apparatus of the hydrants to the engine leaders. The water obtained here is soft and of the most salubrious quality imaginable, as it filters through beds of rock, sparkling, in its subterraneous course, with the utmost brilliancy. THE MOTHER. The cold wind swept the mountain height^ And pathless was tlie dreary wild, And 'mid the cheerless hours of night A mother wander'd with her child — As through the drifting snow she press'd. The babe was sleeping on her breast. And colder yet the winds did blow. And darker hours of night came on, And deeper grew the drifts of snow — Her limbs were chill'd — her strength was gone. Oh God ! she cried, in accents wild. If I must perish, save my child. She stripp'd her mantle from her breast, And bared her bosom to the storm. And round the child she wrapp'd the vest. And smiled to think the babe was warm ; With one cold kiss, one tear she shed. And saidt upon a snowy bed. At dawn, a traveller pass'd by, And saw her 'neath a snowy veil — The frost of death was on her eye. Her cheek was cold and hard and pale j He moved the robe from off the child ; — II lived— look 'd up— and sweetly sm''eJ '258 Masonic Hall, Broadway, New York. MASONIC HALL, NEW YORK CITY. The building Icnown as llasonic Hall, in the city of New York, is situate on the east side of Broadway, between Duane and Pearl streets, and is one of the finest buildings of the kind in this country. I'he corner stone was laid on the twenty-founh of June (St. John's day), 1826. The order of its architecture is Gothic, of the pointed arch style; and throughout the whole ed- ifice, exterior and interior, it has the venerable aspect of buildings of this order, to be met with in nearly all the countiies of Europe. It has a front of fifty feet on Broadway, and extends back one hundred and twenty feet. The front of this edifice is granite, seventy in the centre. The pinnacles rise upward of ten feet above the roof. The doors and windows in front are said to be the first examples of the kind in the country. The grand entrance, which is arched, is fourteen feet in height, and twelve in width, next to the street ; but the door, which recedes four feet (the thickness of the wall) is only six feet wide and not quite ten feet high. The crotchet arch of the centre door, ascends twenty-two feet in height, and is richly orna- mented with raised work of cast iron, executed in New York. The centre window is twenty-two feet in height, and ten in width, finished with lead lights of a diamond form. The doors and windows on each side have corresponding col- feet in height from the street to the battlements i umns, arches and ornaments, executed in cast . 259 iron. There are four buttresses with niches and pedestals, two at the corner and two midway ex- tending to the roof, terminating in ornamented pin- nacles. A range of stone battlements surmount the flank walls ; and the dormant windows have open-work battlements, from which may be seen the whole city like a splendid panorama, and surrounded with the beautiful natural scenery for which the vicinity of New York is so justly celebrated. The basement story above the street is fourteen feet in height, and includes the great entrance hall, which is ten feet in width, and extends through the whole length of the building. This hall is highly ornamented with arches, pendants, open friths in the spandrels, and a beautiful frieze of raised Gothic ornaments. At the farther end of the hall is a staircase leading to the several apartments above. On each side of the hall is a range of rooms, with stores in front, ami places in the rear for refreshments for visiters. The second story is a grand Gothic saloon, ninety feet in length, forty-seven feet in breadth, and twenty-five feet high, and is one of the most magnificent halls in the Union. The floor is sup- ported by elastic springs for dancing ; the ceiling is divided into basket, or fan arches, with pen- dants of open-work ; columns support the arches projecting from the walls, between which are the windows, with raised labels, enriched with crotchets, terminating with flowers at the points, and supported at the ends with carved corbels. The blank windows in the room are filled with mirrors, which render the hall, when lighted, very brilliant. A music-gallery extends across the lower end of the room, supported by a truss- ed girder, leaving the floor free of obstructions, for public assemblies. The front of the gallery is enriched with pierced Gothic tracery, and adds much to the beauty of the saloon. The third story has four rooms, designed for the use of the Masonic Association. These rooms are decorated with clusters of columns, arches, and open panels, with beautiful draperies. INSTANCE OF GREAT SELF-POSSESSION. On the banks of the Naugatunk, a rapid stream which rises in and flows through a very mountainous part of the state of Connecticut, a few years since liv- ed a respectable family named Bruel. The father, though not a wealthy, was a respectable man. He had fought the battles of his country in the revolu- tion, and from his familiarity with scenes of danger and peril, he had learned that it is always more pru- dent to preserve and affect the air of confidence in danger, than to betray signs of fear : and especially so, since his conduct might have had great influence upon the minds of those about him. He had occa- sion to send a little son across the river to the house of a relation, and as there was then no bridge, the ri- ver must be forded. The lad was familiar with eve- ry part of the fording-place, and when the water was low, which was at this time the case, could cross I without danger. But he had scarcely arrived at his I place of destination and done his errand, when sud- ] denly, as is frequently the case in mountainous coun- tries, the heavens became black with clouds, the wind blew with great violence, and the rain fell in torrents "it was near night, and became exceedingly dark. By the kindness of his friends he was persuaded, though with some reluctance, to relinquish his design of re- turning in the evening and to wait until morning. The father suspected the cause of his delay, and was not over anxious on account of any accidents that might happen to him during the night. But he knew that he had taught his son to render implicit obedience to his commands ; that he possessed a daring and fear- less spirit; and as he would never be restrained but by force, he would, as soon as it was suflicientl)' light in the morning, attempt to ford the river on his return. He knew also, that the immense quantity of water, that appeared to be fallino-, would, by morning, cause the river to rise to a considerable height, and make it dangerous even for a man in the full possession of strength and fortitude, to attempt to cross it. He therefore passed a sleepless nisht, anticipating with all a father's feelings what might befall his child in the morning. The day dawned — the storm had ceased — the wind was still, and nothing was to be heard but the roar of the waters of the river. The rise of the river exceed- ed even the father's expectations, and no sooner was it sufficiently light to enable him to distinguish ob- jects across it, than he placed himself on the bank to watch for the approach of his son. The son arrived at the opposite shore almost at the same moment, and was beginning to enter the stream. All the father's feelings were roused into action, for he knew that his son was in the most imminent danger. He had pro- ceeded too far to return — in fact, to go forward or re- turn was to incur the same peril. His horse had arrived in the deepest part of the channel, and was struggling against the current, down which he was rapidly hur- ried, and apparently making but little progress to- wards the shore. The boy became alarmed and rais- singhis eyes towards the landing-place, he discovered his father. He exclaimed almost frantic with fear, "O, I shall drown, I shall drown !" "No !" exclaimed the father in a stern and resolute tone, and dismissing for a moment his feelings of tenderness, "No, if you do, I'll whip you to death ! — cling to your horse." The son who feared his father more than the raging element with which he was enveloped, obeyed his command, and the noble animal on which he was mounted, after struggling for some time carried him safe to the shore. "My son," said the glad father, bursting into tears, "remember hereafter, that in dan- ger you must possess fortitude; and determining to sur- vive, cling even to the last hope. Had I addressed you with the tenderness and fear which I felt, your fate was inevitable; you would have been carried a- way in the current, and I slioiild have seen you no more." Whatan example is here ! The heroism, brave ry, philosophy, and presence of mind of this man, even eclipses the conduct of Caesar, when he said to his boatman, gnid times ? Cxsarem vehu. 260 WILLIAMSBURGH, L. I. The village of Williamsbiirgh is sitiuiteii on tiie westerly extremity of Loiig Island, adjoining of the coasting craft, and the abrupt blufTs and foliage-crested eminences on either shore close the view to the right. On the left, the heights of Brooklyn, studded the northern houndary of the city of Brooklyn, with mansions distinguislied for their cost and and immediately opposite the most popnloiis sec- elegance, and wreathed with evergreens of rare tion of the city of New York, from which it is beauty and luxuriance, remind the spectator of separated by the narrow current of the East j the costly palaces of Venice, in the noonday of river. Like Brooklyn, the growth of liiis thriving her splendor, while the whole sweep of the noble villacjft is consequent on, and idenlilied with, the bay, checkered with the light tracery of the prosperity of the Great Commercial Metropolis, and like its giant neighbor, its onward progress numerous water-craft njoored to the wharves, or which lie motionless on its bosom, and decorated will be greatly increased in strength and volume, with the flowing canvas, streaming pennants, and with the restored commercial and financial ener- gies of the whole nation. Previous to the year 1835, the capabilities of this location for desira- ble summer residences for the wealthy inhabi- tants of the great city, and for buildings to be ap- propriated to the occupancy of mechanics and artisans, and for the manufacture of their wares, were not duly appreciated, but the stimulus then given to enterprise directed the attention of cap- italists to this eligible point, and during that and the succeeding year, the real estate of the village found ready purchasers at constantly appreciated prices. That these investments, when discern- ment and discrimination were exercised in the selection of property in reference to price and locality, were judicious, will be readily admitted on reference to the accompanying sketch. That portion of the village fronting on the East river, and overlooking the city of New York, bounded on the south by the arc of the semi- circle which forms the Wallabout bay, and on the north by the mouth of Bushwick creek, has pecu- liar eligibilities for summer residences for the man of business, or the retired millionaire. From the river's brink between Grand-street and the Wallabout, you reach the crown of the village by a gentle ascent of about a quarter of a mile, and along this extended slope the eye ranges over a prospect, which for extent and varictj' is rarely surpassed. Before you, the great commercial mart with its busy multitude hurrying to and fro, appears like a giant beehive ; adjoining, on the shores of the Island of New York, elegant mansions with their ornamented grounds and waving foliage attract your attention ; and farther to the right, the lofty shot-tower lifts its white shaft to the clouds, flanked by the nnissive Penitentiary build- ings on Blackwell's island, whose bristling de- fences appear in the distance, lllce the fortified battlements of some feudal baronial castle. Still farther in the same direction the turbid waters of Hell Gate, wliich " tfroan aiid sv,-eat in their great agony," appear in the far distance like the indistinct and troubled fancies of a dreatji, while the white sails variegated flags of the moving fleet, entering and departing — lends renewed interest to the glowing panorama. Still onward, the frowning batteries of Govern- or's island, Ellis's island, and Gibbet island, hover, like carrion-scenting vultures, above the track of the passing vessels, while Staten Island, with the beautiful villas of New Brighton, crown- ing its circling terraces, and the quiet village of Castleton, distinguished by the extensive erections attached to the Quarantine station, and the low line of shore fronting the stale of New Jersey — - ofl'ers a cotrihination of varied attractions. On either hand the posthumous fame of Fulton ascends with the spiral wreaths of smoke, that like dusky serpents curl from the funnels of the numerous steamers that ply to and fro upon the bay and river, while the " yo, hciive fio,^'' of the mariners, the monotonous chant of the steve- dores, the measured stroke of the skilfully plied oars of the waterman, the " clinking hammers" of the ship-yards, the hurried shouts of the officers of vessels and the answering response of their crews, the rattling of iron cables, the creaking of swayed masts, and the flutter of shivering sails — are the whisperings of the modern Babel, falling on the ear of the loiterer at Willlamsburgh, in her seasons of repose. The prospect from the southern section of the village embraces a fine view of the Wallabout bay; and ainong the striking objects which arrest the attention, the extensive ship houses and vessels of war at the Navy yard, and the United States' Naval hospital, are peculiarly conspicuous. Landward from the tranquil Bay, which is in the form of a crescent, the rising grounds form a natural semi-amphitheatre, whose surface is dotted w ith tasty cottages and cultivated gardens, and which combined with the gentle undulation which greets the eye, constitute n scene of no little beauty. In the interior of the village, a short mile from the river, a number of enterprising citizens of the metropolis have erected neat summer dwel- lings, whose white pillars, cupolas, and wings, when viewed from a distance, are picturesque land attractive. . . j ^ o *4 It" td 1^ o 2 O 263 The several avenues which connect the vil- lage with the interior, among which Maspeth avenue, Division avenue, whioh is the dividing line between Brooi»!yn and the village, and ex- tends to the Jamaica and Brooklyn turnpikes, and the Jamaica and Newtown turnpikes are the most prominent, and conduct the traveller through numerous scenes of romantic interest. The new turnpike, just completed, which skirts the margin of the East river until it reaches Ravenswood, at a distance of four miles, furnish- ing a view of the establishment for the support and education of pauper children under the con- trol of the New York Common Council, is a beautiful drive, passing through a checkered landscape of hill and dale, meadow and thicket, and (jiving occasional glimpses of Long Island sound on the one hand, and New York bay on the other. But in our utilitarian age and country, the use- ful takes precedence of the ornamental, and the rapid increase of Williamsburgh must be the re- sult of its local adaptation to the requirements of economy and convenience, rather than to its claims on the taste of the wealthj' portion of our population. Connected with New York by two ferries, one between Peck slip and South Seventh-street, and the other between Grand-street in New York, and the foot of Grand-street, Williamburgh, with boats constantly plying, the manufacturer and mechanic can conduct his business and reside at Williams- burgh at a reduced expenditure, and at the same time enjoy most of the benefits resulting from a residence in the metropolis. In addition to the ferry accommodations above named, the new ferry from Houston-street in New York, to Grand- street, Williamsburgh, will be in operation in a few months. The village covers an area of about one thou- sand acres divided into eleven hundred lots, each twenty-five by one hundred feet. There have been erected since the year 1836, between four and five hundred dwellings and several man- ufactories. There are six churches erected for the accommodation of the Reformed Dutch, Epis- copal, Methodist, and Roman Catholic congre- gations. There are also within the village and on its immediate boundaries, nine rope-walks, one glue manufactory, four hat manufactories, and one in process of erection, two tanneries, two distilleries, two ship-yards, one carpet man- ufactory and two establishments for grinding spices, and also several schools and one lyceum, numbering about fifty members, together with one Fire Insurance company, the business of which is extensive and profitable. The population has increased about two thou- sand since 1836, and the numerous dwellings under contract and in process of erection indicate a continuation of a like increase. The village is governed by a board of nine trustees, possessing the power of opening streets, apportioning taxes, &c. &c. The principal streets which intersect each other at right angles, are opened and regulated, and several are paved. The distance between the most populous por- tions of Long Island and the city of New York, is much lessened by the new avenues recently opened to the Village, and which has greatly in- creased the travel across the different ferries, and there is little doubt that the lapse of a few years will give to Williamsburgh a population, whose numbers will entitle it to rank with what Brook- lyn was a short period since. THE FAMILY MEETING BY CHARLES SPRAGUr:. [The following lines were written on dccasion of the acciden- tarmeetina a few evenings since, of all the surviving members of a taniily, the father and mother of which fonc eloluy-two tlic other eighty years old) have lived in the same house jSftv- tlirce ycaYS.]— Boston Courier. We are all here ! Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, All who hold each other dear, Each chair is tilled, we're all iil home, To-night lei no cold :T,-..-.rrer come; It is n(jt often thus .t.ound Our old familiar hearth we're found. Bless then the meeting and the spot, For once be every care forgot ; Let gentle peace assert her power, And kind aflection rule the hour; We're all, all here, We're not all here! .Some are away— the dead ones dear, Who thronged with us this ancient hearth; And gave the hour to guiltless mirth, Fate, with a stern, relentless hand. Looked in and thinned our little band : Some like a night flash passed away. And some sank ; lingenng, day by day; The quiet graveyard- -some lie there And cruel Ocean has his share-- We're not all here. We are all here! Even they, the dead, though dead, so dear, Fond memory, to her duty true. Brings back their faded forms to view. How life-hke through the midst of years Each well-remembered face appears; We see them as in times long past, From each to each kind looks are cast; We hear their words, their smile behold. They're round us as they were of old. We are all here. We are nil here I Father, Mother; Sister, Brother, Vou thai I love with love so dear. This may not long of us be said, .Sonn must we join the gathered dead, And by the hearth we now sit round, Some other circle will be found. O then that wisdom may we know, That yields a lite of neaee below; So in the world to follow this, May each repe.it in wurdsof bliss, We're all, all here! 264 HELL GATE. "Here, where we rest the gentlest waters glide, There, hurry on a slrting impetuous tide ; But yonder, gods ! with tenfold thunder's force, Dashing the war-ship in its whirlpool course."* Modern fastidiousness, which often, with phar- isaical inconsistency, strains at a gnat and swal- lows a camel, has endeavored to impress us with a belief that our Dutch ancestors were too puri- tanical to orive such a name as Hell-Pot to a natural whirlpool as the one found in the East river, seven miles from the city of New-York. This is not reasoning correctly. The Teutonic nation from which the Dutch descended were possessed of a wild and pouerful imagination, and gave poetic terms to every natural phenomenon. The Maelstrom on the coast of Norway, is the name of a whirlpool which varies but little in sig- nilication from the one given to the same thing in the East river. Scylla and Charybdis, between Sicily and the main land of Italy, have also a miraculous origin in the legends of Rome ; the former, now a ledge of rocks of great height, was an enchantress changed by Circe, a more power- ful and more wicked spirit, to this mass of stone, on which unfortunate voyagers might be wrecked and dashed to pieces when they steered too near her dreadful coast to get rid of Charybdis, now a direful whirlpool, but once an avaricious woman, condemned in her change to a ravenous and in- satiate appetite for devouring her prey. In every nation wliere a Syrtis is found, it is in the ima- gination of the people of the country, in some measure, connected with their legends, in its name, at least, with infernal spirits. This is natural. The early Dutch settlers were as likely to indulge their imaginations as other people. It was indeed, when first discovered, a wonder, and is so now. He was a brave man who first ven- tured to examine Hell Gate and pass it. Wash- ington Irving has told the story in a playful way. His description is a piece of easy and felicitous humor. All the other descriptions of it that we have seen, are sufficiently dull to put one to sleep. SpafTord in his very clever Gazetteer of the state of New York, says: — "Horll-gate, Hurl-gate, or Hell-gale is a narrow and difficult strait in the East river, eight miles above New-York, formed by projecting rocks that confine the water to a narrow and crooked channel, and causinor stronof eddy currents. The following description from the American Coast Pilot is a brief and business-like account of this singular passage-way. "Hell Gate, and the narrow pass, leading into Long Island Sound, at the time of slack water and with a leading wind, may safely be attempted with frigates ; small ships and vessels, with a commanding breeze pas- sed at all times with the tide. On the flood, bound into the sound, you pass to the southward of the flood-rock, which is the southernmost of the three remarkable rocks in the passage. On the ebb you go to the northward of the Mill rock, the • Schipper Adriaen Block's vacht being at an anchor near the east end of Blackwell's Island, this poetry is supposed to have been written on tile occasion. stream of the tide setting that way, and forming eddies in the flood passage, which at that time is rendered unsafe. The Pot on which there are ten feet at low water, show* distinctly by the whirlpool, as also the Pan which is a part of the Hog's Back." On the slack of the tide in the strait, the young anglers venture to bring their boat over the chasm, and while two of them with their oars keep the boat in the position required, others throw out their lines and draw from the depths below, fine, large, white-nosed black fish, or the siriped bass. This sport lasts only about fifteen or twenty minutes at a time. The boat is darted with skill and velocity to the shore, on the slight- est indication that the whirlpool is awakening from its momentary repose. Vessels are frequently wrecked in this strait. When the artist sketched the view given in this number, there were two stranded vessels in sight, a faithful view of them has been presented by the engraver to give spirit, truth, and nature to the scene. The one in the distance on Rhine- lander's reef, is the British Brig Evelina of Hali- fax, the one in the foreground is the Schooner Lexington of Kennebeck, both ' shipwrecked within a few days of each other. The vessels alongside are lighters in the act of removing: the cargoes. The aborigines had numerous tales of wonder in regard to thiswhirlpool, which they had learn- ed to pass with skill and safety, but not without some superstitious fears of evil spirits. The first European settlers had a different, but not a much inferior love of the marvellous, than that which the red men had cherished. They heard the moanings of evil spirits before the storm, and in it their triumphant roaT at the havoc they had made, of property and human lives. The drown- ed of all times, who had found a grave in this rush of waters, added the cry of danger as a warning for those crossing their oozy bed. The English frigate Huzza, during the revolu- tionary war, in attempting to pass Hell Gate to get to sea by the Sound, struck the rocks and was so much injured that after sailing a few miles she sunk in deep water. It was supposed that she had a rich military chest on board, destined for some British port. This general impression induced some enterprising men to examine the sunken vessel by means of diving bells, but either they were under a wrong impression in regard to the money on board of her when she went down, or were not able to make thorough examination, for they found no money. The better opinion now is, that the treasure was landed before she sail- ed. Frigates however have passed the strait in safety. Two French frigates were blockaded in the harbour of New-York, by a British squadron during the French revolution. By the aid of a trusty pilot, watching the most favorable winds and tides, they attempted the dangerous naviga- tion with success. One of the vessels struck the rocks once, and the other twice, but neitlier of them received any essential injury. Thousands were watching this adventurous enterprise with anxiety, but with different feelings ; enmity has its hopes and fears, as well as friendship. Party < o f t-l H W to o % w H U CO 34 267 spirit was then raging with more fury than the waters of Hell Gate. The shores on either side of the strait are beautiful, and in their sunny quietude, viewed on a summer's morning, form a pleasing contrast to the agitation of the waters, and the roar they make when the tide is low, and the rocks are visible. It is conjectured by some philosophers that Long Island was once a part of the main land, and that in some violent agitation o( nature, these rocks which had perhaps heen at the head of an estuary, began to give way to the omnipo- tence of the waters, which went rushing onward, conquering and dividing the heretofore main land. Picturesque Beauties of the Hudson. Till-: WESTERN "BARRENS." Bakrkns are a species of country of a mixed char- acter, uniting forest and prairie. They are cov- ered with scattered oaks, rough and stunted in their appearance, interspersed with patclies of hazel, brushwood, and tough grass. They appear to be the result of the contest which the fire is periodically continuing with the timber. The appearance of this description of country led the early settlers of the state to suppose that the scantiness of the timber was owing to the poverty of the soil ; and hence the title, thus ignorantly given, and calculated to convey erroneous notions to our Eastern farmers, became of universal application to this extensive tract of coun- try. It is ascertained, however, that these barrens embrace as productive a soil as can be found in the state — healthy, more rolling than the prairies, and abounding with that important requisite to desirable farms, good springs. The fire visits these barrens in the fall, but, owing to the insufficiency of the fuel, is not able to destroy, entirely, the timber. The farmer may settle, without hesitation or fear, in any part of this species of land, where he can find timber sufficient for his present purposes and wants ; for the soil is supposed to be better adapted to all the in- terests of agriculture and the vicissitudes of the sea- sons than the deeper and richer mould of bottom and prairie land. Where the fire is prevented from its ravages, (as it easily can be by the occupant of the soil,) heavy timber springs up with a rapidity which would be incredible to the northern emi- grant. High insulated bluffs, of a conical form, and exhibiting the appearance of connected ridges, rise up from the bottoms, along the rivers which meander and fertilize them : they are from one to three hun- dred feet in height. Knobs of land, stony and often rocky at their summits, are found along the rivers in some sections of the state, separated by deep ra- vines. The prairies are often intersected by ra- vines leading down to the streams. Deep sink-holes, which serve to drain oft" the waters, are found in some parts, and prove tliat the substance is second- ary limestone, abounding in subterratieous cavities. V"ery little that is denominated in the Eastern states stony ground is found in this state. There are quar- ries of stones in the bluffs, in the banks of the streams, and in the ravines. In the vicinity of Juli- et, and many other promising villages, an abundance of stone can be procured, admirably adapted to the purposes of building ; uniting durability with great beauty and warmth. Timber, were it equally distrib- uted in this state, would be adequate to the neces sities of the settlers. Its apparent scarcity, where the prairie prevails, is now considered not to be so great an obstacle to settlement as has been generally im- agined. Substitutes have been found for many of the purposes to which timber is generally applied; and the rapidity with which prairie, under the hand