VOLUME 14 CAMDEN, SOUTH-CAROLINA TUESDAY MORNING MAY 31, 1853. NUMBER 22. 1 1 * I rn VI, . snL 2 * PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY THOMAS J. WARREN. T JE si in ?. Two Dollars If -paid in advance; Two Dollars aud Fifty Coats if payment be delayed three months, and Throe Dollars if not paid till the expiration oftho vear. ADVERTISEMENTS will bo inserted at the following nitos: For one Square, (fourteen lines or less,) seventy-five cents for the first, and thirty-seven aud a half cants for each subsequent insertion, single in- ? sertions. one dollar per square; semi-monthly, month- < ly and quarterly advertisements charged the same as j for a single insertion. f ( rWfhe number of insertions desired must be noted oa the margin of all advertisements, or they will be 5 published until ordered discontinued and charged ac- . cordingly. ? ; Jl S'flfftfil Calf. i THE DEATH COIJ3CII.. I OR THE SECOND POCAHONTAS. i {A true story of the early Settlements of N. York.] B V 11 E X R Y R.TRACY. I Tba first white settler of the town of West- j } nioreland, iu Oneida county, New York, was James Dean, Esq, a native of New England, and a graduate, we . believe, of Dartmouth, College. In his boyhood he had been sent among the Indians on the Susquehana river, to acquire their language, as it was the intention of his parents that he should become a missionary to carry the gospel among the dark skinned sons of the forest. j Hc~became intimately acquainted with In- : dian character and customs, so that upon his appointment to the post of Indian Agent, with the rank ot Major, after his studies were coin ! pleted, and upon the breaking out of hostilities j in 1775, he made himself a favorite with the ; Oneidas, in whose vicinity he was stationed during most of the war, and was adopted into the tribe according to Indian custom, and became a favorite son of the wife of a chief. In 1787 he found himself settled upon a tract of land, two miles square, granted to him j ' by the Oneidas at the close of the war and on j ' which.he had erected a small house, which af-, s forded a comfortable shelter for his young wife ; 1 and two rosy children, one two years old and . the other an infant of a few months. Major Dean was at this time happily situa- [ ted, so far as himself or any human intellect j could discover to the contrary. The war of the revolution was ended. His beloved conn- j try, although she had waded thro'seas of hlood j ! to achieve her independence, was now, thank | ' God, free. Major Dean was far on the fron- j tiers of civilization, almost in the bosom of a "tribe of savages?the 0'ieidas, who alone ofj( the Six Nations had fought under the Anieri- , J can standard, and he was an adopted son of j the tribe. It is true that his young wife often j ! sighed as she thought of the home she had left ' behind in a pleasant village in the valley of the ! * Connecticut, now celebrated for its onion^"; : but he reminded her of the advantages of their j 1 early location, in the seetion ol the country : f whose fertility would soon attract the enterprising New Englanders to the neighborhoods , which then seemed so lonely. Although there were uo while residents within many miles, yet the red-skins were j I friendly. The wife of Skenandoah, the great j ' chief of the Oneidas, was his mother by Indian ! 1 adoption, and she often visited the wigwam if; her pale-faced son, with presents for his "white ! squaw and Jittle pappooses."?They lacked not I ! for soft ntoccasin9, ornamented with bceds, and j ! ?aC fko luwnnnino dverl scarlet lillle and I ' l?UIJ19 Ol HIV J?V#I VMJ/M.V j 7--, , ? yellow. And especially did the good Nii'koah 1 delight in adorning the person of the oldest ' pappoose, after the Indian fashion, with trinkets 1 arid guads which seemed to civilized eyes more 1 grotesque than comely; and her black eyes 1 sparkled with delight when she saw the little boy toddling about, a miniature brave, lacking only the tattooing and the scap-lock. She also bestowed upon the family presents, winch I in their circumstances were more valuable to 1 them. Their larder never Tacked for game,! ! even when the Major's rifle and fowling piece I ! failed to procure a supply, for Nankoah brought \ the choicest the forest afforded just when it was most needed, and most acceptable. If any 1 member of the little household fell sick, Nan- 1 koah was at hand with healing roots and herbs 1 which had greater efficacy than the more expensive medicaments of the professional leech. Without prying into the atfairs of his family J after the civilized fashion, she was enabled by her native gift of intuition, to discover and an- j ticipate many little wants, and thus she added materially to the sum of their happiness, secluded as* they were from intercourse with their ( own race. 1 Tkno /tirl flio Aurlr /?nnnfpnnnen. nf llif> In. 1 dian woman become a light to Major Dean's ' cottage. She was beautiful, as those who in later years have seen favorable specimens of her noble tribe, will readily believe. Here was a wild and solemn beauty, so to speak, which seemed reflected front the dark evergreens of ' her native forest. Her form, which had never been improved in the modern fashion, was fault- j 1 less; her raven hair was always arranged with !1 a certain degree of taste, her black eyes were j ' calm and loving in their ordinary expression, 1 while it was manifest to a keen observer, that when passion stirred her heart, hatred and j scorn would flash in lightning through them 1 from its depths. ,( The orange colored mantle of autumn had been thrown over the forests, and the crops, ! small, but valuable, which Major Dean had . cultivated on his clearing, were already garnered. For some days he had noticed that the ! Oneidas, whose village was situated about three ! miles oft', had apparently avoided him ; and as Zie was uu mo iiiwot xicuuij iciuis ?itii iiicm as a tribe, and some among them had ever ' treated him with particular marks of esteem, ' he was unable to account for this sudden cold- i ness. On several occasions when he had 1 sauntered into the skirts of the woods in search of game, he had casually met with an Oneida, 1 but before he could gain an opportunity to ac- { cost him, the wiley red-skin had disappeared -( in the depths of the underwood. These cir- ' cumstances had begun to produce an inrpres- I sion on his mind, for he knew that they I oded ' no good to him; when at length, an Indian who was especially indebted to him for kind- 1 ncss, carne suddenly upon him in the edge of I lie forest one day, and revealed to him some acts and circumstances which explained the :onduct of his dark-browed friends, in a manler which was calculated to produce great uneasiness in his mind. An Indian of the Oneida tribe had been murlered by a white man, and according to the belief of the red man, there could be no rest or the departed spirit until his death was ivenged. The Indian custom was, when one jf a tribe wis murdered, to kill the murderer, f possible, and if that was impracticable, one jf his tribe must pay the penalty of his life to secure rest to the soul of the murdered brave. \n Oneida had been slain by a white man, and is Major Dean was the only white within their reach, the chiefs of the tribe were debating in solemn council, the propriety of putting their friend to death. For several days the debate was prolonged, the friendly Indian trivintra report each day to Major Dean of what had passed in the council, lie hoped, fondly hoped, that the party opposed to sacrificing hi in would prevail. He. ;ould not fly with his wife and little ones, for le kuew that he was watched, and that the learest white settlement was too far distant to je reached in safety. lie dared not inform his wife of the uncertain tenure on which he livid lis life, so dear to himself, for her sake and ler children's. The suspense in which he lived was fearful, and it required all his self-command to conceal the anxiety that was consuming .lint. In the covert of the forest he prayed in agony >f soul, that his wife and babes might not be eft without a protector in the wilderness. A voice from Heaven seemed to assure him that lis petition was granted, and he retired to his joueh that night more cheerful than lie had been for several days. His Indian friend had lot visited him that afternoon, but he felt sure hat the council had decided in his favor. lie slept soundly until near midnight, when le was awakened by a cry proceeding from ^he leighboring forest. His quick ear discovered t?i a l,it. Their murdered brother, who lad been a brave man during his life, could :iave no rest in the hunting ground of spirits inti! his inuider had been avenged by the death if a white man. The Great Spirit himself was now angry with his red children for delaying l0 execute the sentence which some of their irihe had been willing to pronounce on him for many days. M;iir?r Homii refilled in ;i SMPCch which he iiopcd would make an impression on the savages sufficiently powerful to cause a reversal of their sentence. lie had been accustomed to peak in Indian councils, versed in Indian lore uid knew what arguments would be likely* to have weight in the minds of the red sons of the forests. All those he urged with all the eloquence of which he was ma.-ter, dealing with the question mostly in the abstract, and hardly referring to himself and iho personal interest which he had in his own life. The Indian orator rejoined, and again Major Dean replied to him, and thus the debate went on between the two, the remainder of the party preserving silence, and seeming perfectly indifferent, or as if the matter was prejudged, and the doom of the white man was already fixed. It became evident to him that all the arguments which he was capable of adducing bad already been adduced and overthrown in the protracted debate held at the council of the tribe. And as the debate went on, hope waxed fainter and fainter in the heart of Major Dean. He feit that no personal enmity was entertainfd for him, but the Indian spirit of revenge ta king high ground, operating like the white man's sense of religions duty, was harder to Jeal with, more difficult to allay or satisfy, than any mere personal animosity. It was the old Jewish code, an eye fur an eye, tooth for tooth?blond for blood, and life for life. But the motive of those poor savages was more comprehensive in design than this bloody part of the Jewish code?it was not merely to present murder, but to secure eternal rest to the soul of a slain brother. Theanualsof mankind furnish butfew scenes like that in the white man's cabin in the frontier wilderness atmidnight, where he was pleading alone for his life. No, not pleading for life, for he knew when he became a mere suppliant for existence, he would incur the contempt of the savages, and peril his last chance of saving it. He was, rather, engaged in an attempt to prove, logically, his right to live, md that they had no right to slay him. He had for a long time maintained this high position, but Ins hopes, as we have said, were growing fainter and fainter as the debate proceeded. The listening chiefs were beginning ;o manifest slightly, their impatience at the protracted nature of the conference, when, durng a brief pause, Maj. Dean caught the tones af his wife's voice in the other apartment confei ring not with flesh and blood, but pleading fervently with her Heavenly Father to cause D the life of her husband to be spared. This was too much for him to bear without betraying the weakness incident to the nature of civilized, refined men. For the moment he forgot the group of terrible war-chiefs before him come to take him away to execution, fie saw only that other group in which his heart was bound up, and for them he trembled with emotion, for them he condescended to beg his life at the hands of the stern warriors. Urged by an impulse which he could not resist, he poured forth a vehement appeal, couched in language such as he would have addressed to a band of white men in like circumstances. When he had ended, lie detected instantly a smile of exultation on more than one of the dark countenances before him?a smile which seemed to say "he, like all white men, is weak-hearted." The orator bounded to his | feet to reply, but during that instant of silence, I a noise from another quarter arrested the atI tention of the whole part}'. A pattering of soft inoccasincd feet was heard ! on the thrcslihold of the outer door and across the burn Hoor as Nryikouh entered the apartment, followed by five other Indian women, the wives of the first chiefs of the tribe. With a soft step, but with determination stamped on - 13 1 , | their brows, they entereu anu mugiu. wcmselves on one side of llie room. The chiefs, inexpressibly surprised as they were, by this unheard-of breach of Indian etiquette, which forbids unconditionally, any woman to enter their councils, let full some ejaculations expres: sive- of their astonishment, but Shenandoah ! signed to the orator to proceed. lie did so in | a vein of irony mingled with invective, ending in a strain like the following: "Our brother's heart has grown soft, since the wars are over, and he is afraid to die. We thought our white brother brave, and not like ! women ; but all white men fear death. Is the j white man's God less kind to his children than our Great Father is to us, that he should fear I to go to the land of spirits? Why should not the white man die, win n oik of his nation hath slain an Oneida ? The chiefs and the great Shenandoah have spoken it, and he shall die! Our knives are sharp, and his blood shall run fast, for we would not torment our brother? but be must die !" When lie bad ceased, Skenandoah made a sign as if he would adjourn the council; but at this moment his wife, Nuukoah, the beautiful Indian wotban, stepped forward two paces, and the clear music of her voice was heard throughout the the apartment, contrasting strangely with the powerful tonee of the speaker who had just ended. And while her auditors were parali/.ed with astonishment, she spoke, timidly at first but more energetically ! as she proceeded. She used no gesture, as deeming it improper that a woman should attempt to play toe orator, but with her hands folded on her bosom, she pressed out from her full heart words which produced a thrilling and startling effect on all present. To Major Dean she seemed at that moment, in her dark beauty, like an angel sent to save htm from death, and those whom he loved better than life, from orphanage and widowhood. "Oneidas," she saiJ, "the white brother must ! not diej The Cneidus must not make intio I cent blood flow. He hath done nothing wor; thy ofdea?h. The white who killed an Oneida, he should fail under the hatchet?his life should he paid for that of our brother'whom he hath slain. "Have the brave Oneidas cotnc to the wigwam of onr brother to frighten his white squaw j and his papooses? Lot them rat hen hunt out the murderer. He is alive, he is guilty; he has a bad heart; but our friend, he has not a : had heart; he has always been our friend,and ' he is not the friend of the had man who slew ; an Oneida. Will you kill your friend who has lived in your wigwams, and let the enemy of the Oneidas live? Have the eyes of your J braves grown dim, that thev cannot find the 1 track of the murderer? Have their limbs i grown weak that they cannot pursue litin ?? Will you make the Great Spirit angry, by killing an innocent man, and letting a murderer live ? ' Your white brother is my son. He has grown into my heart, and if the Oneidas pluck him out, blood will flow. Nankoah and ber sisters love him. and he shall not die alone! "Look !" she continued, as she drew a glittering knife from beneath her blanket, while each of the Indian women imitated her example, "you said your knives are sharp?ours arc sharp too; we have sworn to the Great Spirit, cUii fi?,l Ulilb " illII iiililt\u.lll9 ami UIV.I, uin Oimu hum their way quick to our hearts!" Had the gleam of the threatening Unites, and the flashings of the dark eyes of the excited women been real lightnings corruscating through the apartment, the assembled chiefs could hardly have been struck with more profound amazement than they were by this speech and the dramatic movement which attended it close. There was a brief pause in the white man's I cabin, during which nothing could be heard 1 except the beating of hearts and the tones i husky with agony, from the adjoining room, where the wife and mother was kneeling in prayer. Just at that moment, too, the oldest! child awoke, and mingled its prattle with the ! ascending petition. Maj. Dean's head dropped 011 his breast, ami tears ran in currents down his cheek at the sound of that small voice.? ' Nankoah started forward involuntarily, as if I nhout to rush into the sleeping apartment, when Skenamloah, the chief of the Oneidas, i sprang to his feet. "It is enough," said he, "the Great Spirit hath spoken! Never did woman before lift up her voice in the councils of the Oneidas! Our Father wills that our white brother must not die! Let us leave liiin and return to our wigwams, lost the Great Spirit be angry with his red children." The chiefs arose, and after consulting together a moment, left the cottage, singing a farewell to Major Dean, who was too much absorbed by his emotions, almost to heed their movements. Nankoah approached him, and taking his hand, said: "My son. is safe! Let him go in and comfort his white squaw and her little papooses." Then, turning to her companions, she point ed toward the Oneidas' village, and departed with them from the cottage. As their pattering feet crossed the outer threshold, Major Dean clasped his wife and children in his arms, and returned thanks to Cod for his unexpected deliverance from death, The records of Westmoreland and of Oneida County show that he subsequently lived many years, and when the whites had occupied the rich lands of that region in great numbers, he was ranked as one of the leading men of his county, and held many offices of trust, to universal acceptance. And from that hour of extreme peril was he bound with the chords of affection and gratitude to Naxkoaii. tub Second pociiahontas. iltisrfllaiif0it5. C Appointment of General Washington as Cominamter-m-CEiief. The following account of the appointment of Washington to the supreme command of the American Army on tiic 17th of June, 177/5, is from the memoirs of John Adams, the elder, now in course of publication. The army was assembled at Cambridge, Massachusetts, under Gen. Ward, and Congress was sitting in Philadelphia. Every day new applications in behalf of the army arrived. The country was urgent that Congress should legalize the raising of the army, as they were what must be considered a mob, a band of rebels. The country was placed in circumstances of a peculiar difficulty and danger. The struggle had begun, nud yet everything was without order. The great trial now seemed to bo this question : Who shall be commander-in-chief ? It was ex- j ceedingly important, and was felt to be the binge i on which the contest might turn for or against | us. The Southern and middle States, warm and rapid in tiieir zeal for the most part, were jealous of New England, because they t'elt that the real physical force was here?what then was to be done ? All New England adored Gen. Ward, he had boon in the French .war and went out laden with laurels, lie was a scholar and a statesman. Every qualification seemed to cluster in him ; and it was confidently believed that the army would not receive nuy appointment over him.? What then was to be done ? Difficulties thickened at every step. The struggle was to be long and bloody. Without union all was lost. The country, and the whole country must coine in.?One pulsation must beat through all hearts. The cause was one, and the army must be one. The members had talked, debated, considered and guessed, and vet the decisive stop had not been taken. At length Mr. Adams came to his conclusion. The means of resolving it were somewhat singular, and nearly as follows : He was walking one morning l>cforc Congress Hall, apparently in deep thought, when his cousin Samuel Adams, came up to him and said : "What is the topic with you this morning!" " Oh the armv," he replied. " I'm determined to go into the Hail this morning, nnd enter on a full detail of the colonies, in order to show the absolute need of taking some decisive step. My whole aim will be to induce Congress to appoint the day for adopting the army as the legal army of these united colonies of North America, and then to hint at an election of Commanderin-Chief." " Well," said Samuel Adams, "I liko that cousin John ; but on whom have you fixed as that commander ?" "I will tell you?George Washington, of Virginia, a member of this House." " Oli," replied Samuel Adams quickly, " that will never do?never!" " It must do, it shall do," said John, " and for these reasons, the Southern and Middle States are both to enter heartily in the cause, and their arguments are potent! they say that New England commander, with New England pcrscverence, all united, appal them. For this cause they hang back. Now the only course is to allay their fears and give them nothing to comply of; and this can be done in no other way but by appointing a Southern chief over this force, alia tiien aii win j*umi to tnc standard. This policy will blend us in one mass?will be resistless."' At this Samuel Adams seemed greatly moved. They talked over the preliminary circumstances, and John asked his cousin to second the motion. Mr. Adams went in, took the floor, and put all his strength in the delineations ho had prepared, all aiming at the adoption of the army. lie was ready to own the army, appoint a commander, vote supplies, and proceed to business. Alter his speech had been finished, sonic doubted, some feared. His warmth increased with the occasion, and to all these doubts and hesitations ho replied: *? :n ,i,? " Urcnucincn, II VUligrc&a \?jii nui nuupi. army, before teu moons have set, New England will adopt it, and she will undertake the struggle alone?yes, with a strong arm, a clear conscience, she will front the foe single-handed." -This had the desired effect. They saw New England was neither playing nor to be played with. They agreed to appoint a day. A day was fixed. It came. Mr. Adams went ill, took the lloor, urged the measure, and after some dobate it passed. The next tiling was to get a commander for this army, with supplies, etc. All looked to Mr. Adams on the occasion, and lie was ready, lie took the floor and, went into a delineation of the character of Gen. Ward, bestowing upon him the encomiums which then belonged to 1:0 011c else. At the end of the eulogy, lie said?" Hut tliis is not the man I have chosen." Ho then went into the character of a commander-in-chief, such as was required by the peculiar situation of the colonists at this juncture. And after he had presented the qualifications in his strongest language and given reasons for the nomination he was about to make, be said : " Gentlemen,JI know these qualifications are high, but we all know they are needful in this chief. Hoes any one say they are not to be /-.l.f.iimxl in this ronntrv ? In ronlv. I have to say they arc: they reside in one of our own body, and he is the person whom I now nominate, Ocorgc Washington of Virginia," Washington, who sat on Mr. Adam's right hand, was looking him intently in tho face to watch tho name he was about to announce, and not expecting it would be his, sprang from Ins seat the minute he heard it, ana rusnea into an j adjoining room. Mr. Adams had told his broth* j er Samuel to ask for an adjournment as soon as trie nomination Was made, in order to give the members time to deliberate, and the result is before the world. ' s A Thrilling Scene. BY CHAS. "RAND. The following narrative?a true one?describes a scene that actually took place not many years since, in a country town in the State of Maine: One evening in the month of December, 18-14, a number of townsmen had assembled in the store of a Mr. Thomas Putnam, to talk over 'matters and things'?smoke?drink?and, in short, to do anything to 'kill time.' Three hours had thus passed away. They had laughed,and talked, and drank, and chatted, and had a good time, generally, so that about the usual hours of shutting up shop, each of the party felt particularly first, rate. 'Conic,' said Charles Hatch?one of the .company?'let's all liquor, and then have a game of high, low, Jack! 'So I say,' exclaimed another, 'who's got the r?nnl? V 'Fetch on your keerds,'"drawled out a third, his eves half closed through the effects of the liquor he had drank. After drinking all round, an old pine table was drawn up before the fireplace, where burned brightly a large fire of hemlock logs, \vhich wbuld snap and crackle?throwing large live avals out upon the hearth. All drew round the table, seating themselves 011 whatever came handiest. Four of them had rolled up to the table some kegs, which, from their weight, were supposed to contain nails. 'Now,' said Hatch, 'how shall we play, every one for himself J' 'No?have partners,' growled one man. 'I say every one for himself,' exclaimed another.' 'No, hang'd if I'll play so,' shouted the former, bringing his fist down upon the table, knocking one candle out of the stick, and another upon thefloor. 'Come, come,' said Hatch, 'no quarreling?all who say for having partners, stand up.' Three arose. . 'Now all who say each one for himself, stand up.' The remaining fouf immediately got up. 'Yyu see, Barclay,' said Hatch, 'the majority are against you. Come, will you play ?' 'Wall no F winf trt lin rttv nnnrssitfl side, I'll pin}-,' answered Barclay, somewhat cooled down. Mr. Putnam was not in the store that evening/and the clerks, who were busy behind the counter, had taken very little notice of the proceedings. About half past ten, Mr. Pntnum thought he would step over to his store and see that every thing was safe. As he went in he walked up towards the fire. When within a few steps of where the men were sitting* lift started back in horror. Before him sat seven men, half crazy with drink and the excitement of playing cards.? There they were, within a few feet of the fire just described?and four of thein seated cm kegs of powder! Barclay, who was a very heavy man, had pressed in the head of the keg on which he sat, bursting the top hoop and pressing the powder out through the chinks. By the continued motion of their feet the powder had become spread about the floor, and now covered a space of two feet all around them. Mr. Putnam's first movement was towards the door, but, recovering himself, he walked up towards the fire. Should either of them attempt to rise?lie thought?and scatter a frew grains a little further into the fireplace where lay a quantity of live coals ! At this moment Hatch looked up, and. seeing Mr. Putnam with his face deadly pale, gazing into the fire, exclaimed? 'Why, Putnam, what ails yon,' and at the same time made a mfion to rise. Tor hern's sake, gentlemen, do not rise,' said Mr. Putnam. Tour of you sit on kegs of powder, it is scattered all around you?one movement might send you all to eternity.? There arc two buckets of water behind the bar. But, keep your scats for one minute, and you anfi/4 onrt villi n !' In an instant every man was perfectly sober- ! ed, not a limb moved?each seemed paralyzed. In loss time than we have taken to describe this thrilling scene, Mr. Putnam had poured the water and comploteh' saturated the powder on the floor, and extinguished the fire, so that an explosion was impossible. Then, and not till then, was there a word spoken ! Ahsexce of Mind.?The foreman of a Grand Jury in Missouri, after administering the oath to a beautiful woman, instead of handing the 13ible, presented bis face and said, "Now kiss the book, madam!" lie didn't discover his mistake until the whole jury burst into a roar of laughter. ??. Anecdote of Shekidax.?The celebrated Sheridan was one day much annoyed by a fellow-member in the House of Commons, who kept crying out every few minutes,Hear hear!" During the debate lie took occasion to describe a political cotemporary that wished to {day the rogue, hut had only sense enough to act the fool. "Where," exclamed he, with great emphasis, "where shall wo find a more foolish knave or more knavish fool than this?" "Hear ! hear!" was shouted by the troublesome member. Sheridan turned round, and thanking him for his prompt reply sat down amid a general roar of laughter. Legal Wit.?Counsellor Lamb, an old man when Lord Erksitio was at the height of his reputation, was a man of timid manners and nervous temperament; ana usually prefaced his pica with an apology to that effect On one occasion, when opposed to Erskino, he happened to remark that he felt himself growing more and more timid as he grew older. "No wonder," replied the witty, but relentless barrister, "every one knows that the older a Lamb grows the more sheepish he becomes." Faith is the foundation of justice, and justice the stay of a State. HIE DIIIEK.?41m J3tui\s raijic ucnnuii; u< the poor, the solace of the sick, and the support 9| of the dying-, and-while,other books May amuse 9 and instruct in a. leisiiifi" hour,,it is th*'peV*i9 culinr triumph of thtffbook ro create fight in j the midst of darkness, to alleviate the sorrow jfl which admits of tio other ajlevjatioh', Ih direct 9 a beam of hope to the hejp t which i;pr other .9 topie of consolation can-reach;. while goii^ 9 despair and death vanish at.the touch ol its bo-idjjH ly inspiration. There is sojnethiug in the spir-yflj it and dictation of the HibJe, which ^ found 9| peculiarly adapted to-arrest the attention of 9 the plainest and'most' uncultivated minds.' The' 9 simple structure of its. sentiments, combinef nature and the fra^sao- 9 tichs of common'fife?tfig delightful intermix- 9 ture of narration-with tflF doctrinal and per- J9 ceptfva parts?and the profusion of mii-acfiloosr facts; which convert if into" a sort of enShan- 9fl ted ground?its constant advertence of the Deity, whose perfections it renderk almost visible 9| ?unite it bestowing upon it an interest which1 r^H attaches to no other performance, and whieb, 1 I after assiduous and repeated pefusah; invest it y 9 with much of the charm of novelty: like tfiOH orb of day, at which we are wont to ga?e whW unabated astonishment from' .mfaiYcy' to old age. What other book besides the Bible cobld *, be heard in public assemblies; fro in year^to year with attention that never tries and an' interest, that never cloys? With few exceptions,let a portion of the'sr.ored volume, be recited iri^a; i mixed multifude, and though it has been heard-. o a thousand tinic9, a universal stillness ensues; ; every eye is fixed, and every'ear is awake fltfdf ?ttentive. Select, if you can. at^'other'coi^rjTO- J sition, and let it be rendered equally familiar tch * the mind, and see wbetbei h will produce thTs effect. *,. ;r j ^ _ * . . - -c. ? What rs Happiness??Let a foaff'h&ti hH 1 the world can give jrim,; lie is still m'sCFftble if* . he has a grovelling,'imderoted rtjiitd. htffi ' have his garden, bis fields"; hisvwoods, hlg.laVns; / for grandeur, plenty; olrftraertt; 'and gr'atftlfa- : tion ;* while at the same time God is ndt in oH his thoughts, and let another Have noftbei^ficlti ; nor gardeir, let him only^lobk at nature with ' an enlightened inind?a mirid tvhtch sito and ad&re the Creator ;ilh ail his wdii&?catt i consider them as demonstrations of brs power, his wisdom, his goodness and truth ; this man is greater'as well as happier in hir povOrtr#. : than the other in his 'riches?the 'dittifnfe .9 higher than a beast?the other tfRtlfe lower than an angel. 6 . ? _ _ ... i Irur l hilosophy.?l saw pale moaner ? stand bending over the tomb, and" hie jefl 9 fast and often. As he raised his humtd^y.fci; * to heaven, he cried: m " My brother ! oh, mv brother f' -9 A sage passed that way, and Said?_. 1 " For whom dost thou mourn?'' ' ?.J " One," replied he, " whom I did POt Suffi- . 9 ciently love while living; but for Whose I timable worth I now feel." 1 " What wouldst thou do if he were restored . -9 to thee?" The mourner replied? " that he would never ofFend him hy an unkind word,- but he woftld take every occasion to show" his friendship,* if he could but come back to his fond embrace." ! " Then waste no time in Cscless grief," said the sage; "but if thou hast friends, go and : cherish the living, remembering that ihey will one day be dead also." . * ? { Tiik Pkkciocs Peart,.?Religion in & fe- 'l male secures all Iter interests. It graces^her -j character, promotes her peace, endears her friendship, secures esteem, and a dignity .and " worth indescribable to all her deeds. How - J pleasant, when the absent husband -dan ibink of home, and reflect that angels wateh the ) place? Wlienjd>f,ut"to leave her a widow,,>,.i how consoling if her character is 9uch, thafsbe ' can lean on the widow's God and put her chil dren under the guardianship of Him, ;wbo is 'j the father to the fatherless. Thetvhe qui,ia