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diff --git a/old/69111-0.txt b/old/69111-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 06ac4c6..0000000 --- a/old/69111-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7712 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of A gallop among American scenery, by -Augustus E. Silliman - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: A gallop among American scenery - or, Sketches of American scenes and military adventure - -Author: Augustus E. Silliman - -Release Date: October 7, 2022 [eBook #69111] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A GALLOP AMONG AMERICAN -SCENERY *** - - - - - - - A - GALLOP - AMONG - AMERICAN SCENERY: - OR, - SKETCHES - OF - AMERICAN SCENES AND MILITARY ADVENTURE - - BY - AUGUSTUS E. SILLIMAN. - - [Illustration] - - NEW-YORK: - D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY. - - PHILADELPHIA: - GEO. S. APPLETON, 148 CHESNUT STREET. - - M DCCC XLIII. - - Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, - BY D. APPLETON AND CO., - In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Southern - District of New-York. - - H. LUDWIG, PRINTER, - 72 Vesey-st., N. Y. - - - - - TO - BENJAMIN D. SILLIMAN, - THIS - LITTLE VOLUME - IS - AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, - BY - HIS BROTHER. - - - - -A number of the following Sketches have appeared at intervals in the -columns of the New-York American. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - I. BANKS OF THE POTOMAC 1 - - II. THE COUNTRY PASTOR 8 - - III. MOUNT VERNON 13 - - IV. MEDICAL STUDENT 25 - - V. THE RESURRECTIONISTS 39 - - VI. OLD KENNEDY, NO. I. 44 - - VII. OLD KENNEDY, NO. II. 53 - - VIII. OLD KENNEDY, NO. III. 59 - - IX. OLD KENNEDY, NO. IV. 68 - - X. LEE’S PARTISAN LEGION 78 - - XI. HUDSON RIVER 107 - - XII. NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE 113 - - XIII. BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE 120 - - XIV. LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA 131 - - XV. MONTREAL 139 - - XVI. THE NUN 144 - - XVII. CATARACTS OF NIAGARA 148 - - XVIII. MOUNT HOLYOKE 155 - - XIX. WHITE MOUNTAINS 160 - - XX. BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT 169 - - XXI. BRENTON’S REEF 176 - - XXII. OLD TRINITY STEEPLE 185 - - XXIII. LONG ISLAND SOUND 201 - - XXIV. GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY 220 - - APPENDIX 233 - - - - -BANKS OF THE POTOMAC. - - -No.—State-street—(storm without)—apartment strewed with sundry bachelor -appurtenances, fronting on the Battery—a gentleman, in dressing-gown and -embroidered slippers, measuring the room with hasty strides—exclaimeth -impatiently— - -North-east by the flags of the shipping in the bay! North-east by the -chill rain dashing on the window panes! North-east by the weather-cocks -on all the steeples, from St. Paul’s to the dog-vane on the stable end! -_North-east_ by the ache of every bone in my body! Eheu! What’s to be -done? No going abroad in this torrent. I’ve read all the landlady’s -little library. How shall I kill the enemy? I’ll whistle; vulgar. Sing; -I can’t. There are the foils and the gloves. Pshaw! I have no friend to -pommel or pink; besides, the old lady in the room below, has nerves. -Whew! how it pours. I’ll—I’ll—stand and look out into the street. -Jupiter! how near the bread-cart came to going over the chimney sweep. -Poor Sooty—how he grins! He owes the worm no silk—whatever obligations -his rags may be under to the sheep. Poor fellow! Holloa! ho! blackey; -catch this quarter, and get you a hot breakfast. There goes that -confounded battery gate again! bang—bang—night and day. There’s never a -loafer takes his morning promenade, or even siesta on the grass, but must -needs follow his dirty face through that particular gate. - -Alas! me miserable. What shall I do? The spirit of ennui rides me as -thoroughly as did the “old man of the sea” Sinbad the sailor. Eh! they’re -the dumb bells. Diminish nervous excitability, by muscular exertion. -Good!—humph; and there’s the old lady’s nerves below. How the wind roars -and rumbles round the chimney tops. Rain—rain—rain. There! that tin spout -is choked, and the gutter is pouring over a young cataract. Oh! that I -were a newspaper carrier, or a whale—or the sea serpent, chasing the down -East fishermen—or—in short, any thing, so that I need not mind the wet. -Hum—hum—what shall I do? I have it. Eureka! I have it. I’ll sit down and -give my friend of the American an account of my last ramble. - -(Rolleth his chair up to the table at the fire—crosseth his legs on the -fender—and proceedeth to nib his pen.) Now for it. (Writes.) - - * * * * * - -You well recollect, my dear Mr. Editor, the arguments that I used, to -induce you to make a short journey to the South with me last summer; -and your answer, “I can’t leave the paper.” You well recollect that I -urged that we were not born to work alone; that life was short; that -sixteen or sixty, its term was but a flash; that we were rushing on -with increased velocity to that bourne, whose sands are marked, by -no returning foot-print—that bourne where the sceptre and diadem of -the monarch lie contemptuously hurled with the goad and chain of the -slave—where, their service ended, the broken wain of the yeoman, and the -grim cannon of the soldier, interlock their shattered wheels; the bayonet -and pruning-hook—the sword and the ploughshare rest without a name. You -well recollect that I reproached you, the rather, with too great love for -the green fields and giant elms around your cottage at Elizabethtown; -that I swore by my faith! and I believed in the doctrine of Pythagoras, -that I should look to see thy immortal part, transferred on its exit, -from its present habitation to one of those huge trees towering into the -blue ether; that there, in the sunny mornings of summer, for sonnets -which do enliven thy columns, I should hear the joyous call of the -robin—the shrill whistle of the scarlet oriole; for sparkling wit,—the -dew of night glittering on thy leaves in the early sunbeams; for wise -old saws, and dreamy legends, venerable moss gathering upon thy trunk -and branches, while, alike in the evening wind or howling blast, thou -shouldest stand firm against casuistry or dictation. “Wilt go? Wilt join -me?”—with soft persuasion murmured I. “The paper—the paper—the pa—per,” -quoth thou. “Presto,” quoth _I_—and without more ado started in my usual -heels-over-head fashion, alone on my journey. - -I swept over the broad breast of the Delaware-dashed down the enemy -insulted Chesapeake—bounded through the city of riots and beauty, and -came down on my feet at the cottage of my whole-souled friend, Tom B——, -on the banks of the Potomac. The afternoon of my arrival was warm and -still, and every thing in nature, even the birds, seemed wrapped in -indolent repose. Slowly sauntering through the long vistas of sycamores -and elms, which adorned the grounds in picturesque avenues, the airy East -Indian cottage of my friend suddenly broke upon my sight, peering from -a whole load of flowering vines and sweet briars, tall white lilies, -and moss roses, from thick beds of myrtle at their feet, climbing into -the half open lattices, while two towering pines almost crossed their -extended branches above its lowly roof. I stole quietly through the -open door, examining the choice Italian landscapes hanging upon the -walls of the airy grass-matted hall,—slid through the drawing-rooms, -stopping for a moment to scan the crouching Venus and dying Gladiator -on their pedestals; to admire the exquisite Magdalen of Carlo Dolce—the -lovely Claude, the Cenci, and Flora beneath their silken tassels,—and -coming out upon the verandah overlooking the river, suspended in his -grass hammock, found master Tom, enjoying his luxurious siesta. His -double-barrelled gun and game-bag—his linen shooting jacket, huge -sombrero, and hunting-boots, were tumbled promiscuously in one corner -of the piazza,—while half a dozen fine plover, turning up their plump -breasts, a partridge, and some score of yellow-legged snipe, with the -powder-flask and shot-belt, were thrown across the back of the rustic -settee, trophies of his morning’s sport, beneath which, with their noses -extended between their legs in like luxurious repose, lay the huge old -Newfoundlander, “Bernard,” and his favourite pointer, “Soho.” - -The mild breeze bore in the sweet perfume of the honey-suckle from a -neighbouring arbour, and the broad Potomac, stretched tranquilly onwards, -undisturbed save by the occasional jibe of the boom, or lazy creak of the -rudder of some craft, reflected with her white sails upon its surface. -The garden, with its white-gravelled walks, bordered with box, descended -in parterres to the river’s edge—an embroidered carpet of flowers; -and lemon and orange trees, released from their winter’s confinement, -displayed their golden fruit, hanging amid the green leaves in tempting -profusion. I bent over and looked into the hammock, and could not but -admire the serenity of the manly features, the measured heave of the -broad chest, and the masses of raven locks, playing around the white -forehead of the sleeper, as they were slowly lifted by the play of the -passing wind. I thought it were a sin to disturb him, so drawing out my -cigar case, I stretched myself on the settee at his side, complacently -reclining my head upon its arm. Whiles watching the blue smoke of my -“Regalia,” as it slowly wreathed and floated above my head—whiles -watching the still dreamy flow of the river—and whiles—if I must confess -it—cogitating which had been the wisest, myself the bachelor, or Tom the -married man,—Tom, myself, the dogs, forming a tolerably correct picture -of _still_ life,—a still life that remained unbroken for some half hour, -when through the glass door of the drawing-room a beautiful boy of three -or four years came galloping into the piazza, and bounding towards -the dogs, threw himself full length upon the shaggy Newfoundlander, -manfully striving to pull open his huge jaws with his little hands. The -Newfoundlander opening his eyes, saw me, and raising himself on his legs, -gave a low growl; while the child, relinquishing his hold upon the ears -to which he had clung, as the dog rose to his feet, came slowly up to -me, and placing his plump little hands upon my knee, looked curiously -and inquiringly into my face, his golden locks falling in a profusion -of ringlets down his superb sunburnt shoulders. I was charmed with the -confidence, and innocence, and sweetness beaming from his gaze, and -took him upon my knee, his hand playing with my watch guard, while his -beautiful blue eyes remained fixed in the same look of curious inquiry -on mine. I said it was a picture of _still_ life. Tom, aroused by the -dog, slowly lifted his head over the edge of the hammock, rubbed his -eyes as if uncertain whether he were in a dream, as I calmly and silently -returned his astonished gaze, and then, with a single swing, was at my -side, both of my hands clasped in his. The next moment, I fancy the -picture was other than _still_ life. - -Why should I tell you of the tea-table, loaded with delicacies in the -matted hall, as the soft evening sun-set poured its last rays through -it? of the symmetrical figure clad in snowy whiteness—the Grecian -features, the dark Andalusian eyes, beaming with kindness from behind -the glittering silver at its head? Why, that the youngster tied by the -handkerchief in the high chair at his mother’s side, pertinaciously -kicked his tiny red shoes about him in frolic glee, while my little -knight of the golden locks, did the duty of the trencher at his father’s -elbow? Why, that as the shades of evening faded into twilight, that the -young gentry were snugly ensconced in their little bed, the mother’s -soft cheek pressed against the forehead of the eldest as he lisped his -evening prayer? and why, as soon “like twin roses on one stalk,” as they -were wrapped in innocent slumber, we sat in the fading twilight, talking -over old scenes and boyish recollections, retracing our steps back to -those days which, softened by the lapse of time, appear divested of every -thing save brightness and sunshine? why but to tell you that we were -aroused from those retrospections, by the sound of the church-going bell, -musically chiming in the distance. - - - - -THE COUNTRY PASTOR. - - -The slow tolling—now almost dying away, and now striking more strongly -upon the ear—arose from the church in the neighbouring town, where my -friends were in the habit of worshipping, and where they were to have the -opportunity on that evening of hearing the voice of their time-honoured -pastor—an opportunity which his great age and increasing infirmities had -made equally rare and valuable. I gladly accepted the invitation to join -them, as, aside from a desire to see the aged man, of whom I had so often -heard, if there is a time for devotion more consonant to my feelings than -another, it is when the quietness and serenity of a summer’s evening -dispel all external impressions, and every thing appears in unison with -harmony and benevolence. - -As we walked the short half mile between the cottage and the church, -the stars shone in beauty amid the still rosy tints of the west—the -night-hawk stooped towards us, as he wheeled in his airy circles—the -whip-poor-will in the adjoining meadows sounded his mournful note, -and the crickets, with the chirping frogs in the neighbouring ponds, -sustained a ceaseless chorus. Arrived at the church-yard, we picked our -way among the old brown tomb-stones, their quaint devices, contrasted -here and there with others of more modern pretensions in white marble, -and entering the church, took our seats in silence. We were early; but -as the church gradually filled, it was interesting to watch group after -group, as it noiselessly measured the aisles, and sunk quietly upon -the cushioned seats. Now and then a pair of bright eyes would glance -curiously around from beneath a gay bonnet, and a stray tress be thrown -hastily aside; but alas! those clad in the habiliments of wo, too, too -often moved, phantom-like, to their places; the lights, as they threw a -momentary glare on their pale and care-worn faces, making more dark the -badges which affection has assumed as a tame index of inward grief. The -slow toll of the bell ceased—the silence became more deep;—an occasional -cough—the rustling of a dress—the turn of a leaf alone breaking the -perfect stillness. - -The low tones of the organ rose gently and sweetly, and the voluntary -floated softly and mist-like over the assembly; now rising, and falling, -and undulating, with like dreamy harmony, as if the Æolian harp were -answering, with the passing airs playing among its strings, the ocean -gently laving her pebbly shores; then gradually rising and increasing -in depth, it grandly and solemnly ascended upwards, till thrown back, -reverberated from the walls of the circular dome above us, it rolled away -in deep and distant thunders. All became again silent. The venerable -form of a man of four-score years, his hair bleached with the sorrows of -eighty winters, rose slowly in the pulpit, and as, with eyes closed, yet -lifted to Heaven, he feebly supported himself with outstretched arms upon -its cushion, we heard almost in a whisper, “Let us pray, my brethren,” -fall tremulously from his lips. Nought, but the perfect stillness, -enabled us at first to hear the sentences pronounced with evident and -painful effort; but as he advanced in prayer, that almost whisper, became -firm and distinct, and his pallid cheek lighted up with a hectic flush, -as he waxed eloquent in the presence of his Maker. - -His venerable features appeared to glow almost with inspiration, as he -drew near the throne of the Holy One; and the hearts of the mourners beat -more calmly, as they felt themselves carried into the presence of Him -that suffered. More thoughtless than the swallow that skims the summer -skies, must he have been, who could have heard that prayer, and not have -joined with reverence in its solemnity. His closing words still ring upon -my ear, and long will remain stamped upon my memory. - -“My children—your fathers, and your fathers’ fathers have listened to my -voice. Generations have passed by me to their long account, and still -I have been left, and still my voice hath arisen from this holy place. -Wo! wo is me, if my Master hath looked upon me as a slack and unworthy -servant to his people. My children—but a few short days, and this -trembling voice that still strives to teach his blessed will, shall be -hushed in that sleep which the Archangel’s trump alone shall break—this -tottering form be laid beneath the mould from whence it came, there to -remain till that trump shall demand its presence at the judgment seat. -But with the last tones of this quivering voice, with the last grasp of -these trembling hands, I extend to you the sacred volume, as your guide -to happiness in this, your only light into the world to come. - -“The sneers of human reason and vain philosophy shall desert you -assuredly, my children, as you stand upon the edge of that awful -precipice, where each of you _alone_ must take the fated plunge into the -deep darkness of the future—but this, this shall make clear your passage -as brightest noon-day. My children—I look back upon you as I speak—my -hand is on the door-latch—my foot upon the threshold—oh! when your short -days like mine are numbered, may you with the same reliance in his mercy, -say, Lo, blessed Master, we stand without—receive us into thy kingdom.” - -As the service ended, it was good to see the kind-hearted feeling, with -which the congregation gathered around the venerable man—for he was pure, -and sincere, and true; and of a verity, as he said, his voice had arisen -among them above the infant’s wail, at the baptismal font—had joined -them with cheerfulness at the marriage feast, and still been heard in -solemn sympathy at the side of the dark and silent grave. It was the last -time that he addressed them. Not many days, and another voice pronounced -the burial service of the dead in that green church-yard, and the form of -the good old man was covered from their sight beneath its sod. - -As we returned to our cottage home, the crescent moon was streaming -in silvery brightness, the constellations and galaxy resplendent with -“living fires,” and the far, far worlds rolling in immeasurable distance, -as twinkling stars trembled upon our human vision. The dews of night were -moist upon the grass, as we re-measured the lawn that led to the cottage; -where, after planning our visit for the following morning to Mount -Vernon, we soon were wrapped in contented and grateful repose. - - - - -MOUNT VERNON. - - -The sun raised himself in a huge globe of fire above the eastern horizon, -as my friend’s spirited bays stood saddled at the door of the cottage, -pawing, champing the bit, and playfully endeavouring to bite the black -boy who held them. Finishing an early breakfast, we were soon in our -saddles and full gallop on our journey; the dogs in an ecstacy of -delight, bounding along at our sides, overhauling and putting in bodily -terror every unfortunate cur that came in their way, as they sportively -tumbled him over and over in curious examination; old Bernard, with -glistening eyes and wagging tail, bestriding in grim fun the prostrate -form of the enemy. We passed rapidly through the rough paved streets of -Alexandria, watching eagerly for its famed beauties at their casements, -and clearing the town, were soon on the rustic road that leads to the -sacred place of America. - -The meadows were glistening in the morning dew; the sweet perfume of the -clover filled the air; the white daisy and delicate cowslip danced over -their luxuriant grassy beds, as the fresh morning breeze fanned them -in its passage; and amid the sea of melody high above the merry gossip -of the bob-link, the chattering volubility of the mocking-bird, his -yellow spotted breast swelling with delight, his keen eye gazing into -the distance, the saucy “_you-can’t-see-me_” of the meadow lark sounded -in merry challenge, while the clear “whew-whew-it” of the quail from the -golden wheat-field, was echoed by his eager companion far down in the -green vales, as they stretched softly and gently into the distance, in -the long shadows of the early morning. Oh! let him that would scan the -benevolence of the Creator, leave his restless bed in the sweltering -city, and walk forth with the day in its youth,—for verily, like man, it -hath its youth, its manhood and its old age—and the sweetness of morning -is the youth of the day. - -The hedges on the road side were covered with a tangled mass of verdure, -from which wild vines and green ivy crept to the surrounding trees, -wreathing gracefully their trunks and branches. The undergrowth was -loaded with wild roses and honeysuckles. The graceful fleur-de-lis, -curving its blue flowers, trembled upon the green banks, and the -pond-lily floating on its watery bed, threw forth its grateful fragrance, -as we occasionally passed through the swampy bottoms. Fat cattle grazed -indolently in the meadows; while now and then, as we cantered by their -pastures, the horses, with tails and manes erect, accompanied us on our -journey, till arriving at their confines, with eager neighing, they -would look after us, throw their heels high in the air, and gallop down -into the broad fields in the very jollity of freedom. Every thing seemed -contented and joyous. The hearty, happy-looking negroes, trudging along -to their agricultural labours, doffed their hats to us, with a cheerful -“good morning,” as we passed, or laughingly displayed their white teeth -and big eyes, as they led the dew-wet horse to the bars to mount and -drive to the milking the smooth, fat kine. A ride of an hour brought us -to the woods that adjoin Mount Vernon, which are cleared of undergrowth, -but in other respects as wild and untamed as if naught but the savage -had ever placed foot in them. Silence reigned through the deep glades, -unbroken, save by the hoofs of our horses as they resounded with hollow -echo; the sharp chirp of the squirrel, jumping among the dry leaves; -or the quick rap, rap, of the woodpecker, as his scarlet head and blue -back glanced momentarily from some dead trunk upon our eyesight. We -met with nothing to intercept our progress. Now and then, to be sure, -a drove of hogs, feeding upon the mast in the forest, would marshal -themselves in our path, stupidly staring at us with a sort of ludicrous, -half-drunken gravity, snuffing the air, as if determined to intercept our -progress; but as we came nearer, they would whirl short about, and with -a simultaneous grunt, their tails twisted in the air, gallop off with -desperate precipitation into the depths of the forest. Journeying a mile -or two further, we came upon the porter’s lodges, at the entrance of -the domain proper, which were old and ruinous. Proceeding still farther -over a very bad and rough carriage-road, we came suddenly in view of the -Potomac; and Mount Vernon, with its mansion-house and smooth, green lawn, -lay extended before us; Fort Washington’s battlements and cannon-filled -embrasures in stern silence guarding it from the opposite side of the -river. - -Fastening our horses, under the guidance of a grey-headed old negro, -born in the family of General Washington, we entered the lawn and came -upon the rear-front, if the term may be allowed, of an old-fashioned -mansion, surmounted by a cupola and weather-cock, semicircular piazzas -extending around from each end, connecting it with the kitchen and -servant’s apartments. Various buildings, all bearing the impress of time, -were scattered about, evidently in architectural order and plan, and -the two large gardens, rendered interesting by the flowers and plants, -still blooming in the beds where they had been placed by the hands of -the General, extended back to the forest from which we had just emerged. -As we stood for a moment looking at the old building, we almost expected -to see the yellow travelling-carriage of his Excellency, with its four -beautiful bays, and liveried out-riders, draw up at the great hall door -in its centre. Having sent in our address, we received permission from -the courteous branch of the family, who now hold the estate, to enter -and survey the interior. We were struck with its extreme simplicity, -the lowness of the walls and ceilings, and the bare floors, which were -waxed, not, as with us, carpeted. The sides of the rooms were composed -exclusively of wooden panels, upon which hung some old oil paintings of -merit,—engravings of naval actions between the English, the Dutch, and -the French; and a small enamel miniature, which is considered the best -likeness extant of Washington. Curiosities of various kinds covered the -shelves and the mantels, and the painted porcelains and china jars, stood -in stately display behind the glass doors of the old-fashioned beaufets -in the corners. - -Our attention was arrested for a moment, as we passed through one of the -rooms, by a large rusty key of iron, enclosed in a glass case. It was -the key of the Bastile, that infernal prison, that monument of centuries -of grinding cruelty and oppression, where men vanished, and were seen -no more of their day and generation,—where, by the intrigues of the -courtier, the subtle blandishments of the minion of the palace, letters -de cachet plunged equally the innocent, the imprudent, and the generous, -into the jaws of living death,—that accursed congerie of dungeons where, -from mid fellowship of rats and spiders, such scrap of soiled paper, -written in the blood of the poor prisoner, fluttering from a loop-hole in -its lofty towers, arrests the footstep of the casual passenger upon the -causeway. - -“Mases de Latude, _thirty-two_ years prisoner in the Bastile, implores -good Christians to intercede for him, so that he may once more embrace -his poor old father and mother, if they yet live, and die in the open -world.” - -Surely, nothing but the hallowed air of Mount Vernon could have prevented -the Prince of Darkness from bodily carrying off so precious a gem for -his cabinet. One side of the great drawing-room was ornamented with a -sculptured mantel in Italian marble, presented by Lafayette, the other -was covered with cases containing books of high toned selection, while, -from the third, its green silk curtain drawn aside, was suspended a -portrait of the present family, by Chapman. The figures of the portrait, -as large as life, presented a lady of middle age, clad in mourning, -surrounded by a group of children advancing into youth. It was well -executed, and in the dignified and saddened serenity, in the simple -and natural grouping, and the pure and unaffected expression of the -countenances, an American in any part of the world, would have at once -recognised a family group of the more intellectual and refined of his own -country. As we walked through the various rooms, from which the family -had withdrawn, we were so overcome with the illusion, the work-basket -with its scissors and thread—the half-opened book lying upon the table, -the large Bible prominently, not ostentatiously, in its place, the -portraits on the walls, the busts on their pedestals,—all causing such -a vivid impression of present life and being, that we almost expected to -see the towering form of the General entering the doorway, or passing -over the green lawn spread between us and that Potomac which we had so -often viewed from the same windows. We were at first disappointed at not -seeing in some conspicuous place, the sword, which had so often been -extended by the hand whose pulses quickened not in the hour of extremest -peril, as it marshalled the road of human liberty; but our disappointment -turned to admiration, and our hearts beat still higher, as we were -referred to, and read this clause in his last testament: - -“To each of my four nephews, I bequeath one of the swords of which I -may die possessed. These swords are accompanied with the injunction not -to unsheath them for the purpose of shedding blood, except it be for -self-defence, or in defence of their country and its rights; and in the -latter case, to keep them unsheathed, and prefer falling with them in -their hands to the relinquishment thereof.” - -Passing through the great hall, ornamented with pictures of English -hunting scenes, we ascended the oaken stair-case, with its carved and -antique balustrade;—we stood at the door—we pressed the handle—the -room and the bed where he died were before us. Nothing in the lofty -drama of his existence, surpassed the grandeur of that final scene;—the -cold which he had taken from exposure, in overseeing some part of his -grounds, and which resisted the earlier domestic remedies that were -applied, advanced in the course of two short days into that frightful -form of the disease of the throat, laryngitis.—It became necessary for -him to take to his bed. His valued friend, Dr. Craik, was instantly -summoned, and assisted by the best medical skill of the surrounding -country, exhausted all the means of his art, but without affording -him relief. He patiently submitted, though in great distress, to the -various remedies proposed, but it became evident from the deep gloom -settling upon the countenances of the medical gentlemen, that the case -was hopeless;—advancing insidiously, the disease had fastened itself -with deadly certainty. Looking with perfect calmness upon the sobbing -group around him, he said—“Grieve not my friends; it is as I anticipated -from the first;—the debt which we all owe, is now about to be paid—I am -resigned to the event.” Requesting Mrs. Washington to bring him two wills -from his escritoire, he directed one to be burnt, and placed the other in -her hands, as his last testament, and then gave some final instructions -to Mr. Lear, his secretary and relation, as to the adjustment his -business affairs. He soon after became greatly distressed, and as, in -the paroxysms which became more frequent and violent, Mr. Lear, who was -extended on the bed by his side, assisted him to turn, he, with kindness, -but with difficulty, articulated, “I fear I give you great trouble, -sir,—but—perhaps it is a duty that we all owe one to another—I trust that -you may receive the same attention, when you shall require it.” - -As the night waned, the fatal symptoms became more imminent—his breath -more laboured and suffocating, and his voice soon after failed him. -Perceiving his end approaching, he straightened himself to his full -length, he folded his own hands in the necessary attitude upon his -chest—placing his finger upon the pulse of the left wrist, and thus -calmly prepared, and watching his own dissolution, he awaited the summons -of his Maker. The last faint hopes of his friends had disappeared;—Mrs. -Washington, stupified with grief, sat at the foot of the bed, her eyes -fixed steadfastly upon him; Dr. Craik, in deep gloom, stood with his face -buried in his hands at the fire,—his faithful black servant, Christopher, -the tears uncontrolled trickling down his face, on one side, took the -last look of his dying master; while Mr. Lear, in speechless grief, with -folded hands, bent over his pillow on the other. - -Nought broke the stillness of his last moments, but the suppressed sobs -of the affectionate servants collected on the stair-case; the tick of the -large clock in the hall, as it measured off, with painful distinctness, -the last fleeting moments of his existence, and the low moan of the -winter wind, as it swept through the leafless snow-covered trees; the -labouring and wearied spirit drew nearer and nearer to its goal; the -blood languidly coursed slower and more slowly through its channels—the -noble heart stopped—struggled—stopt—fluttered—the right hand slowly slid -from the wrist, upon which its finger had been placed—it fell at the -side—and the manly effigy of Washington was all that remained, extended -upon the death couch. - -We left that room, as those who leave a sick room: a suppressed whisper -alone escaped us, as, with a sort of instinctive silence and awe, we drew -the door slowly and firmly to its place behind us. We again descended the -antique stair-case, and emerged upon the lawn, in front of the mansion. -Passing through several coppices of trees, we approached the sepulchre, -where rest the remains of his earthly semblance. In the open arch of a -vault composed of brick, secured and firmly protected by gates of open -iron work, were two large sarcophagi of white marble, in one of which, -carved in high relief, with the arms of the republic, were deposited the -remains of him, “who was first in war, first in peace, and first in the -hearts of his countrymen.” A marble slab, set into the brick wall of the -exterior, bearing in black letters simply this inscription— - - “The remains of - Gen’l George Washington.” - -There rested all that was mortal of the man, whose justice—whose -virtue—whose patriotism—meet with no parallel in human history. There, -within the smoke of his own hearth-stone, mouldered the remains of -that towering form, whose spirit, whether in the battle, or in the -council-hall, in the fierce dissensions of public discord, or in the -quiet relations of social life, shone with the same stern and spotless -purity. - -The Potomac glittered like silver, between the trees in the noon-day sun -at our feet; the soft mild breeze gently moved the leaves upon the tree -tops—the chirp of the wren—the drowsy hum of the locust—the quick note of -the thrush, as she hopped from twig to twig, were all that showed signs -of life,—and those huge sarcophagi lay still—motionless—far, far from -voiceless. Oh! my countrymen, never since he left us, hath it so behoved -us to listen,—“While our Father’s grave doth utter forth a voice.” - -We were exceedingly struck and affected by the truthfulness of the “Sweet -Swan of Avon,” as we saw above the sarcophagi, (free passage to which -was open over the large iron gates,) the clayey nest of the martin, or -common house-swallow, built in the corner of the ceiling, where, in -perfect security and confidence she fed her chirping brood, directly over -the head of the departed hero. Pure, indeed, was the air, “nimbly and -sweetly” did it play upon our senses. Oh! bard of England, as standing -upon that hallowed spot, the spirit of the unfortunate Banquo whispered -again to our memories, his words to the murdered Duncan. - - “This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air - Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself - Unto our gentle senses.” - - _Banquo._——“This guest of summer, - The temple haunting martlet, does approve, - By his lov’d mansionry, that the heavens’ breath, - Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, buttress, - Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird hath made - His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: Where they - Most breed and haunt, I have observed, the air - Is delicate.” - -We lingered long at the tomb, and with reluctance withdrew, as the -advancing day warned us of our homeward returning ride. - -The setting sun, streaming in radiance through the trees, measured in -long shadows the persons of the two men dismounting at the cottage -door, from whence they had departed so buoyant and joyous in its -morning brightness. That setting sun, sinking beneath its gorgeous bed -of crimson, gold and purple, left those men more chastened, true, more -elevated, from their pilgrimage to the shrine of him whose name shall -forever be the watchword of human Liberty. - - - - -THE MEDICAL STUDENT. - - -I remained several weeks on my friend Tom’s plantation, enjoying -the course of life that he pursued, which was entirely consonant to -my tastes. His plantation consisted of about three hundred acres, -principally laid down in wheat, indian corn and tobacco, though some -of it still remained in meadow and woodland;—this, with a handsome -productive property in the neighbouring towns of Alexandria and -Washington, afforded him an abundant income to indulge his liberal, -though not extravagant tastes. He usually arose at five in the morning, -mounted his horse, and rode over the plantation, overseeing and giving -instructions to the labourers; and returning, was met by his smiling -wife and beautiful children at the breakfast table; after which, he -again applied himself to business until eleven, when he threw all care -aside, and devoted himself to pleasure or study, for the remainder of -the day. He thus avoided the two extremes to which country gentlemen are -liable,—over work on the one hand, or ennui on the other. His library—the -windows commanding a view of twenty miles down the Potomac—was crowded -with a varied store of general literature; among which, I observed -shining conspicuously, the emblazoned backs of Shakspeare, and the -worthy old Knight of La Mancha. History, Travels, the Classics—English, -French, Spanish, and Italian—and works on Natural History and general -science, were marshalled on their respective shelves. There was also, -a small, but very select Medical Library, for my friend had taken his -degree in that profession, and although relieved from the necessity of -practising for support, he was in the habit of attending gratuitously on -the poor in the neighbouring country.—Marble busts of Shakspeare, Milton -and Columbus, stood on pedestals in the corners of the room, and fine -old portraits of Cervantes, Lope de Vega, Dante, and Ben Jonson, besides -an exquisite gem of Ruysdaels hanging over the fire-place, adorned the -walls. On one side of the room, fronting the entrance, an effigy in -complete polished armour of the fifteenth century, stood erect and grim, -the mailed gauntlet grasping the upright spear; while, on a withered -branch above it, was perched with extended wings, a superb American -Eagle, in full preservation, his keen eye appearing to flash upon the -intruders at the entrance. In the centre, on the soft thick carpet, which -returned no sound of footsteps, was a circular table surmounted with -an Argand lamp and writing apparatus; on one side of which, was one of -the exquisitely comfortable lounging chairs, that admit of almost every -position of ease, and on the other, a crimson fauteuil stuffed with -down, which Tom laughingly said, was for the peculiar benefit of his -wife, when she saw fit to honour his sanctum sanctorum with her presence. -He tasked his invention to the utmost to make my time agreeable;—horses, -dogs, guns, books, every thing was at my disposal. Among other -excursions, he proposed, a few days after my arrival, that we should take -a run down the Potomac in his boat. Now this boat was none other than -a beautiful clipper-built schooner-rigged yacht, of about twenty tons -burden, with a very ample cabin in her centre, and from the gilt eagle on -her stern, and the gaudy pennant streaming at her masthead, to the taught -stay running out to the end of her mimic jib-boom, the most complete -thing of the kind that I ever laid eyes on. In so expressing myself when -I first saw her, I received an approbatory and very gracious nod from -“Old Kennedy,” a regular old salt, with one arm, for whom Tom had built a -cottage on his estate, and to whom she was beauty personified;—a beauty -which he could the more readily appreciate, from the fact, that the far -greater part of his time was devoted to her decoration. “Many a time,” -says Tom, “have I found him lying by himself on the banks, looking at her -in admiration with half-open eyes; and I much doubt whether my Mary looks -more beautiful to me, than does her namesake, as she floats yonder, to -old Kennedy.” - -But to come to our story. We appointed the following day for our -excursion, and, having first ascertained that Walter Lee, an old friend, -whose plantation was a couple of miles below would join us, we early the -next morning got up our anchor, and under the influence of a smacking -breeze, were soon cutting our way down the river, the white canvass -stretching clean and taught out to the stays; our long pennant streaming -proudly behind us, and our little jack shaking most saucily from its -slender staff at the bowsprit, as we merrily curveted and jumped over -the waves. Running down to a point on Lee’s plantation, we got him on -board, and were soon under way again, the water bubbling and gurgling -into our scuppers, as we lay down to it in the stiff breeze. Occasionally -she would sweep, gunwale under, when a flaw would strike her; but old -Kennedy, wide awake, would bring her up with a long curving sweep, -as gracefully as a young lady sliding out of the waltz in a crowded -ball-room, till, stretching out again, she would course along, dancing -over the mimic waves, with a coquetry equal to those same fair damsels, -when they find an unfortunate wight secure in their chains. We were all -in fine spirits; Tom’s negro boy, seated at the heel of the foremast, -showing his white teeth, in a delighted grin, as old Kennedy, with his -grave face, played off nautical wit at his peculiar expense. We saw a -number of ducks, but they were so shy that we could with difficulty get -a shot at them; but we now and then succeeded in picking half a dozen -snipe out of a flock, as it rose from the shore, and flew across our -bows. We continued running down the river in this way, for three or -four hours, passing now and then a fisherman, or other craft, slowly -beating up; but towards noon the breeze slackened,—we gradually lost -our way—merely undulating, as the wind fanned by us in light airs, till -finally it entirely subsided; our long pennant hanging supinely on the -shrouds, and the water slopping pettishly against our bows, as we rested -tranquilly upon its surface. The after part of the yacht was covered with -an awning, which, although sufficiently high to prevent its obstructing -the view of the helmsman, afforded us a cover from the rays of the sun, -so that we lay contentedly, reclining upon the cushions, smoking our -cigars, enjoying our refreshments, and reviving old recollections and -associations, for it must be confessed that we three, in our student -days, had “rung the chimes at midnight.” I had not seen Lee for several -years;—he was a descendant of the celebrated partizan officer, who -commanded the dashing corps in the Revolution known as Lee’s Legion, and -inherited, in a marked degree, all the lofty courtesy and real chivalry -that characterized that officer. He was exceedingly well read in the -military history of the country, and indeed so thoroughly imbued with -military spirit, that should the signal of war ring through the country, -I know of no man whose hand would so soon be on the sword hilt and -foot in the stirrup. My introduction to his acquaintance was marked by -an incident so peculiarly painful and exciting in its character, that I -cannot refrain from relating it. Having been let loose from the care of -my guardians at a very early age, I made the first use of my liberty in -travelling in a good-for-nothing sort of way over Europe, determined to -see for myself, the grandeur of Old England; to climb the Alps; to hear -the romantic legends of Germany, in her own dark forests; to study the -painters and sculptors of Italy, on her classic soil; to say nothing of -visions of dark-eyed girls of Seville, of sylphs and fairies, floating -through the ballets and operas of Paris, and midnight adventures in -the gondolas of Venice. Arriving at London, I fell in with, and gladly -availed myself of the opportunity to take apartments in the same house -with my friend Tom and his fellow-student Lee, both Americans, and both -completing a course of medical education by attending the lectures of the -celebrated John Hunter. - -It so happened, that on the very first evening that we came together, in -conversation upon the peculiar features of their profession, I expressed -a desire to visit a dissecting-room, never having been in one in my own -country. Lee immediately invited me to accompany them to the lecture on -that evening, which was to be delivered in the rotunda of the College, -and where, by going at an early hour, my curiosity could be satisfied, -besides the opportunity that I should have of hearing that eminent -surgeon. So pulling on our hats and taking our umbrellas in our hands, we -plunged into the dense fog, and groped our way over the greasy pavements -to the college. It was a large building, in a dark and retired court, -with something in its very exterior sepulchral and gloomy. Entering the -hall door, we ascended one pair of stairs, stopping for a moment as we -passed the second story, to look into the large rotunda of the lecture -room. The vacant chair of the professor was standing near the wall in -the rear of a circular table of such peculiar construction, as to admit -of elevation and depression in every part. This table was the one upon -which the subjects were laid when under the hands of the demonstrator. -Two skeletons, suspended by wires from the ceiling, hung directly over -it; the room was as yet unoccupied and silent. Ascending another flight -of stairs, we came to a third, secured at its entrance by a strong -oaken door;-this appeared to put a stop to our further ascent, but upon -a small bell being pulled, a sort of wicket in the upper part of the -door was cautiously drawn aside, discovering the features of a stern, -solemn-looking man, who, apparently satisfied of the right of the parties -to enter, drew one or two heavy bolts, and dropping a chain admitted us. -A small table was placed at the foot of the stairs, at which, by the -light of a lamp, this gloomy porter was perusing a book of devotion. -Ascending the stairs, it was not until three several attempts, that I -was enabled to surmount the effects of the effluvia sufficiently to enter -the green baize door that opened into the dissecting-room. As it swung -noiselessly to behind me, the first sensation produced by the sight, was -that of faintness; but it almost immediately subsided. There appeared a -sort of profanity in speaking aloud, and I found myself unconsciously -asking questions of my friends in a low whisper. - -On small narrow tables, in different parts of the large room, which, -though lighted by a dome in the centre, required, in the deep darkness -of a London fog, the additional aid of lamps, were extended some five -and twenty human corpses in different stages of dissection. Groups of -students were silently engaged with their scalpels in examining these -wonderful temples of the still more wonderful human soul. Here a solitary -individual, with his book open before him upon the corpse, followed the -text upon the human subject, while there, two or three together were -tracing with patient distinctness the course of the disease which had -driven the spirit of life from its frail habitation. I observed one -of the professors in his gold spectacles pointing out to a number of -the students, gathered around one of the subjects, the evidences of an -ossification of the great aorta, which had, after years of torture, -necessarily terminated the life of the sufferer.—There was almost as -much individuality in those corpses as if they had been living, and it -required the most determined effort on my part to divest myself of the -idea that they were sentient, and aware of all that was passing around -them. I recollect, particularly, one, which was lying nearest the door -as I entered;—it was the body of a man of about forty, with light hair, -and fair complexion, who had been cut down in the midst of health. -His face was as full, and his skin as white, as if he had been merely -sleeping; but the knife had passed around his throat, down his body, and -then in sections cross-ways; the internal muscles having been evidently -exposed, and the skin temporarily replaced, during the casual absence of -the dissector. There was something peculiarly horrid in the appearance -of that corpse, as, aside from a ruffianly and dissolute expression of -the features, the gash around his throat conveyed the impression that it -was a murdered man lying before me. A good-looking, middle-aged female -was extended just beyond, her long hair hanging down over the end of the -table, but not as yet touched by the hand of the surgeon; while, just -beyond her, the body of an old man, from which the upper part of the -skull had been sawn to take out the brain, appeared to be grinning at us -with a horrid sort of mirth. In another part of the room, directly over -which the blackening body of an infant was thrown across a beam, like a -piece of an old carpet, was extended the body of a gigantic negro; he -lay upon his back, his legs somewhat apart, one of his arms thrown up -so as to rest upon the top of his head, his eyes wide open, his nostrils -distended, and his teeth clenched in a hideous grin. There was such -evidence of strength, such giant development of muscle, such appearance -of chained energy and ferocity about him, that, upon my soul, it seemed -to me every moment as if he was about to spring up with a frantic yell, -and throw himself upon us; and wherever I went about the room, my eyes -still involuntarily turned, expecting to see that fierce negro drawing -up his legs ready to bound, like a malignant demon, over the intervening -space. He had been brought home for murder upon the high seas, but the -jail-fever had anticipated the hand of the executioner, and his body of -course was given over to the surgeons. A far different object lay on the -floor near him; it was the body of a young girl of about eleven or twelve -years old. The poor little creature had evidently died of neglect, and -her body drawn up by the action of the flexor muscles into the form of a -bow, stiffened in death, rocked forward and backward when touched by the -foot; the sunken blue eyes staring sorrowfully and reproachfully upon us -from the emaciated features. Beyond her, in most savage contrast, was -thrown the carcass of a Bengal tiger, which had died a day or two before -in the royal menagerie, his talons extending an inch beyond his paws, and -there was about his huge distended jaws and sickly eyes, as perfect a -portraiture of disease, and pain, and agony, as it has ever been my lot -to witness in suffering humanity. There was no levity about the students, -but, on the contrary, a sort of solemnity in their examinations; and -when they spoke, it was in a low tone, as if they were apprehensive of -disturbing the dead around them. I thought at the time that it would be -well if some of those who sneer at the profession, could look in upon one -of these even minor ordeals to which its followers are subjected in their -efforts to alleviate the sufferings of their fellow-men. - -As the hour for the lecture approached, the students one by one, closed -their books, washed their hands, and descended to the lecture-room. -We descended with the rest, and as we passed the grim porter, at the -bottom of the stair-case, I observed in the corner behind him a number -of stout bludgeons, besides several cutlasses and muskets. A popular -commotion a short time previous, among some of the well-intentioned but -ignorant of the lower classes, had induced the necessity of caution, -and this preparation for resistance. Entering the lecture-room, we took -our places on the third or fourth row of seats from the demonstrator’s -table, upon which a subject was lying, covered with a white sheet, and -had time, as the room gradually filled, to look about us. Besides the -students, Lee pointed out to me several able professional gentlemen, -advanced in life, who were attracted by the celebrity of the lecturer; -among others, Abernethy and Sir Astley Cooper. Shortly after we had taken -our seats, a slender, melancholy-looking young man, dressed in deep -mourning, entered the circle in which we were seated, and took his place -on the vacant bench at my side. He bowed reservedly to my companions as -he passed them, but immediately on sitting down became absorbed in deep -sadness. My friends returned his salute, but did not appear inclined -to break into his abstraction. At the precise moment that the lecture -was announced to be delivered, the tall form of the eminent surgeon was -seen descending the alley of crowded seats to his chair. The lights in -the various parts of the room were raised suddenly, throwing a glare on -all around; and one of the skeletons, to which an accidental jar had -been given, vibrated slowly forward and backward, while the other hung -perfectly motionless from its cord. In his short and sententious manner, -he opened the subject of the lecture, which was the cause, effect, and -treatment of that scourge of our country—consumption. His remarks were -singularly lucid and clear, even to me, a layman. After having gone -rapidly through the pathology of the disease, consuming perhaps some -twenty minutes of time, he said,—“We will now, gentlemen, proceed to -demonstration upon the subject itself.” I shall not readily forget the -scene that followed. As he slowly turned up the wristbands of his shirt -sleeves, and bent over to select an instrument from the case at his -side, he motioned to an assistant to withdraw the sheet that covered the -corpse. Resuming his erect position, the long knife glittering in his -hand, the sheet was slowly drawn off, exhibiting the emaciated features -of an aged woman, her white hair parted smoothly in the middle of her -forehead, passing around to the back of the head, beneath the plain white -muslin cap. The silence which always arrests even the most frivolous in -the presence of the dead, momentarily checked the busy hum of whispers -around me, when I heard a gasp—a choking—a rattling in the throat, at -my side; and the next instant, the young man sitting next to me, rose -to his feet, threw his arms wildly upwards, and shrieking in a tone of -agony, that caused every man’s heart in that assembly, momentarily to -stop—“_My m-o-t-h-e-r!_”—plunged prostrate and stiff, head foremost upon -those in front of him. All was instant consternation and confusion;—there -was one present who knew him, but to the majority of the students, he -was as much a stranger as he was to my friends. He was from one of the -adjoining parishes of London, and two weeks before, had lost his mother, -to whom he was much attached, and by fatal mischance, that mother lay -extended before him, upon the demonstrator’s table. He was immediately -raised, but entirely stiff and insensible, and carried into an adjoining -room;—sufficient animation was at length restored to enable him to -stand, but he stared vacantly about him, the great beads of sweat -trickling down his forehead, without a particle of mind or memory. The -lecture was of course closed, and the lifeless corse again entrusted to -hands to replace it in its tomb. The young man, on the following day, was -brought sufficiently to himself to have memory present the scene again to -his mind, and fell almost immediately into a raging fever, accompanied -with fierce and violent delirium; his fever gradually abated, and his -delirium at intervals; but when I left London for the continent, three -months after, he was rapidly sinking under the disease which carried off -his mother—happily in a state of helpless and senseless idiocy; and in -a very short time after, death relieved him from his misery. The whole -scene was so thrilling and painful, that, connecting it in some measure -with my introduction to Lee, his presence always recalled it to my -memory. - - - - -THE RESURRECTIONISTS. - - -As we returned to our lodgings, our conversation naturally turned upon -the agitating event that we had just witnessed, and the extreme caution -necessary in the procuring of subjects for anatomical examination. Lee -related an occurrence that had happened to Dr. ——, a gentleman of high -standing in South Carolina. - -Shortly after the American revolution, he visited Europe for the purpose -of pursuing his medical studies, and was received into the family of -the same distinguished gentleman, whom we had just heard lecture, -then beginning to rise to eminence and notice; an advantage which was -necessarily confined to a very few. In one of the dark and stormy nights -of December, Mr. Hunter and his wife having been called to the bedside -of a dying relative in the country, as Dr. —— was quietly sitting at the -parlour fire, absorbed in his studies, he was aroused by a hurried ring -at the street door, and rising, went to answer it himself. Upon opening -the door, a hackney coach, with its half-drowned horses, presented itself -at the side of the walk, and two men, in slouched hats and heavy sailor -coals dripping with water, standing upon the steps, inquired in a low -tone if he wanted a subject. Being answered in the affirmative, they -opened the carriage door, lifted out the body, which was enveloped in a -sack, and having carried it up stairs to the dissecting-room, which was -in the garret, received the two guineas which they had demanded, and -withdrew. The affair was not unusual, and Dr. —— resuming his book, soon -forgot the transaction. About eleven o’clock, while still absorbed in -his studies, he heard a violent female shriek in the entry, and the next -instant the servant maid, dashing open the door, fell senseless upon the -carpet at his feet, the candlestick which she held, rolling some distance -as it fell. - -Perceiving that the cause of alarm, whatever it might be, was without, -he caught up the candlestick, and, jumping over her prostrate form, -rushed into the hall where an object met his view which might well -have tried the nerves of the strongest man. Standing half-way down the -stair-case, was a fierce, grim-looking man, perfectly naked, his eyes -glaring wildly and fearfully from beneath a coarse shock of dark hair, -which, nearly concealing a narrow forehead, partially impeded a small -stream of blood trickling down the side of the face, from a deep scratch -in the temple. In one hand he grasped a sharp long belt-knife, such as -is used by riggers and sailors, the other holding on by the bannister, -as he somewhat bent over to meet the gaze of the Doctor rushing into the -entry. The truth flashed across the mind of Dr. —— in an instant, and -with admirable presence of mind, he made one spring, catching the man -by the wrist which held the knife, in a way that effectually prevented -his using it. “In the name of God! where am I?” demanded the man in a -horror-stricken voice, “am I to be murdered?” “Silence!—not a whisper,” -sternly answered Dr. ——, looking him steadily in the eyes—“Silence—and -your life is safe.”—Wrenching the knife from his hand, he pulled him by -the arm passively along into the yard, and hurrying through the gate, -first ran with him through one alley, then into another, and finally -rapidly through a third, till coming to an outlet upon one of the narrow -and unfrequented streets, he gave him a violent push,—retracing his steps -again on the wings of the wind, pulling too, and doubly locking the gate -behind him, leaving the object of his alarm perfectly bewildered and -perplexed, and entirely ignorant of the place from whence he had been so -summarily ejected. The precaution and presence of mind of Dr. ——, most -probably saved the house of Mr. Hunter from being torn down and sacked -by the mob, which would have been instantly collected around it, had the -aggrieved party known where to have led them to wreak his vengeance. - -After a few days, inquiry was carefully and cautiously made through the -police, and it was ascertained that three men answering the description -of the resurrectionists and their victim had been drinking deeply -through the afternoon, in one of the low dens in the neighbourhood of -Wapping; that one had sunk into a stupid state of intoxication, and had, -in that situation, been stripped and placed in a sack by his companions, -a knife having been previously placed in his hand that he might relieve -himself from his confinement upon his return to sensibility; and that in -addition to the poor wretch’s clothes, they had realized the two guineas -for his body. - -It is certainly painful, that the requirements of suffering humanity -should make the occasional violation of the grave indispensably -necessary. Whether the spirit, released from its confinement, lies in the -limbo of the fathers, the purgatory of the Catholics, awaiting the great -day of doom; whether called from a life of virtue, all time and distance -annihilated, it sweeps free and unconstrained in heavenly delight through -the myriads and myriads of worlds, rolling in the vast sublimity of -space; whether summoned from a course of evil, it shudders in regions of -darkness and desolation, or writhes in agony amid flaming atmospheres; -or whether its germ of life remains torpid, as in the wheat taken from -the Egyptian pyramids, thousands of years existent, but apparently not -sentient, must, of course, be to us but the wild theories of imagination, -and so remain until that judgment, predicted by the holy Revelation, -shall sweep away the darkness with which, in inscrutable and awful -wisdom, the Almighty has enveloped us. - -But that the spirit can look with other than indifference, if not -loathing, on the perishing exuviæ of its chrysalis existence, which, to -its retrospective gaze, presents little other than a tasking house of -base necessities, a chained prison of cruel disappointments, even to our -human reason, clogged as it is with bars and contradictions, appears -hardly to admit the opportunity of question, and of consequence to that -spirit its disposition can but be a matter of indifference. Still, to -the surviving friends, whose affection cannot separate mind from matter, -those forms lying in the still and silent tomb, retain all their dear -associations, and surely it most gravely becomes the members of that -profession, which, next to the altar, stands foremost in benevolence, -that the deepest prudence should be exercised in this gloomy rite -required by the living from the dead. - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER. - - -(Constitution and Guerriere.) - -No. I. - -The sun became more and more powerful as it ascended towards the -meridian, and was reflected with effulgent intensity from the -mirror-surface of the river. As we bent over the side and looked far down -into the deep vault reflected from above, and saw our gallant little -yacht, with her white sails and dark hull, suspended with even minute -tracery over it, we could almost imagine ourselves with the Ancient -Mariner, “in a painted ship upon a painted ocean.”—The white sandbanks -quivered and palpitated in the sultry glare, and the atmosphere of the -adjoining swamps hung over them in a light blue vapour; the deadly -miasma, their usual covering, dissipated in the fervent heat; while -the silence was unbroken, save by the occasional scream of the gull, -as it wheeled about in pursuit of its prey, or the quick alarmed cry -of the kingfisher, hastily leaving some dead branch upon the shore to -wing its way farther from the object of its terror. The black boy, in -perfect negro elysium, lay stretched fast asleep, with his arm resting -upon one of the dogs, in the blazing sun on the forecastle, while we -ourselves, reclined upon the cushions, with our refreshments before us, -indolently puffed our cigars under the awning, Old Kennedy, perched upon -the taffrail, coxswain fashion, with the tiller between his legs. While -thus enjoying ourselves, like true disciples of Epicurus, the guitar was -taken from its case in the cabin, and accompanied by the rich tones of -Walter Lee: “Here’s a health to thee, Mary,” in compliment to our kind -hostess, swept over the still surface of the river, till, dissipated in -the distance, and anon the “Wild Huntsman,” and “Here’s a health to all -good lassies,” shouted at the pitch of three deep bass voices, bounded -over the banks, penetrating the deep forest, causing the wild game to -spring from their coverts in consternation at such unusual disturbance -of its noontide stillness. “We bade dull care be gone, and daft the -time away.” Old Kennedy, seated at the tiller, his grey hair smoothed -down on one side, and almost falling into his eyes, his cheek distended -with a huge quid of tobacco, which gave an habitual drag to a mouth -whose expression indicated surly honesty and resolution, was a perfect -portrait of many an old quartermaster, still in the service; while -his scrupulously clean shirt, with its blue collar open at the neck, -discovering a rugged throat, encircled by a ring of grey hairs, and his -white canvass trowsers, as tight at the hips as they were egregiously -large at the ancles, indicated the rig in which he had turned up, for the -last thirty years, to Sunday muster. The old seaman had seen a great deal -of service, having entered the navy at the opening of the difficulties -with the Barbary powers, and had been engaged in several of the signal -naval actions which followed in the subsequent war with Great Britain. -Previous to that time, he had been in the employ of Tom’s father, who was -an extensive shipping merchant at Alexandria, and now, in his old age, -influenced by an attachment for the son, who had built a snug cottage for -him on his estate, and, vested with the full control of the yacht, he had -been induced to come down to spend the remainder of his days on the banks -of the Potomac, enjoying the pension awarded by government for the loss -of his arm. - -I had previously had the hint given me, that a little adroit management -would set him to spinning a yarn which would suit my fancy. So, watching -a good opportunity, knowing that the old man had been with Hull in his -fight with the Guerriere, I successfully gave a kick to the ball by -remarking, “You felt rather uncomfortable, Kennedy, did you not, as -you were bearing down on the Guerriere, taking broadside and broadside -from her, without returning a shot. You had time to think of your sins, -my good fellow, as conscience had you at the gangway?” “Well, sir,” -replied he, deliberately rolling his tobacco from one side of his mouth -to the other, squirting the juice through his front teeth with true -nautical grace—“Well, sir, that ere was the first frigate action as ever -I was engaged in, and I am free to confess, I overhauled the log of my -conscience to see how it stood, so it mought be I was called to muster -in the other world in a hurry; but I don’t think any of his shipmates -will say that Old Bill Kennedy did his duty any the worse that day, -because he thought of his God, as he has many a time since at quarters. -There’s them as says the chaplain is paid for the religion of the ship, -and it’s none of the sailor’s business; but I never seen no harm in -an honest seaman’s thinking for himself. Howsomever, I don’t know the -man who can stand by his gun at such time, tackle cast loose, decks -sanded, matches lighted, arm-chests thrown open, yards slung, marines -in the gangways, powder-boys passing ammunition buckets, ship as still -as death, officers in their iron-bound boarding caps, cutlashes hanging -by lanyards at their wrists, standing like statues at divisions, enemy -may-be bearing down on the weather-quarter—I say, I doesn’t know the man -at sich time, as won’t take a fresh bite of his quid, and give a hitch to -the waistbands of his trowsers, as he takes a squint at the enemy through -the port as he bears down. And as you say at that particular time, the -Guerriere (as is French for soger) was wearing and manœuvering, and -throwing her old iron into us, broadside and broadside, like as I have -seen them Italians in Naples throw sugar-plums at each other in Carnival -time.—Afore she was through, tho’, she found it was no sugar-plum work, -so far as Old Ironsides was consarned. You obsarve, when we first made -her out, we seen she was a large ship close hauled on the starboard -tack; so we gave chase, and when within three miles of her, took in all -our light sails, hauled courses up, beat to quarters and got ready for -action. She wore and manœuvered for some time, endeavouring to rake, but -not making it out, bore up under her jib, and topsails, and gallantly -waited for us. Well, sir—as we walked down to her, there stands the old -man, (Hull) his swabs on his shoulders, dressed as fine in his yellow -nankin vest and breeches, as if he was going ashore on leave—there he -stands, one leg inside the hammock nettings, taking snuff out of his -vest pocket, watching her manœuvres, as she blazed away like a house -a-fire, just as cool as if he was only receiving complimentary salutes. -She burnt her brimstone, and was noisy—but never a gun fires we. Old -Ironsides poked her nose steady right down for her, carrying a bank of -foam under her bows like a feather-bed cast loose. Well, as we neared -her, and she wears first a-star-board, and then a-larboard, giving us a -regular broadside at every tack, her shot first falls short, but as we -shortened the distance, some of them begins to come aboard—first among -the rigging, and cuts away some of the stuff aloft, for them Englishmen -didn’t larn to fire low till we larnt ’em. First they comes in aloft, -but by-and-by, in comes one—lower—crash—through the bulwarks, making the -splinters fly like carpenter’s chips,—then another, taking a gouge out -of the main-mast; and pretty soon agin—‘_chit_’—I recollects the sound -of that ere shot well—‘chit’—another dashed past my ear, and glancing on -a gun-carriage, trips up the heels of three as good men as ever walked -the decks of that ere ship; and all this while, never a gun fires we; but -continues steadily eating our way right down on to his quarter, the old -man standing in the hammock nettings, watching her movements as if she -was merely playing for his amusement. Well, as we came within carronade -distance, them shot was coming on board rather faster than mere fun, -and some of the young sailors begins to grumble, and by-and-by, the old -men-of-wars-men growled too, and worked rusty—cause why—they sees the -enemy’s mischief, and nothing done by us to aggravate them in return. -Says Bill Vinton, the vent-holder, to me, ‘I say, Kennedy,’ says he, -‘what’s the use—if this here’s the way they fights frigates, dam’me! but -I’d rather be at it with the Turks agin, on their own decks as we was -at Tripoli. It’s like a Dutch bargain—all on one side. I expects the -next thing, they’ll order pipe down, and man the side-ropes for that ere -Englishman to come aboard and call the muster-roll.’ ‘Avast a bit,’ says -I; ‘never you fear the old man. No English press-gang comes on board this -ship—old Blow-hard knows what he’s about.’ - -“Well, by-and-by Mr. Morris, our first lieutenant, who all the while had -been walking up and down the quarter-deck, his trumpet under his arm, and -his eyes glistening like a school-boy’s just let out to play; by-and-by -_he_ begins to look sour, ’ticularly when he sees his favourite coxswain -of the first cutter carried by a shot through the opposite port. So he -first looks hard at the Old Man, and then walks up to him, and says by -way of a hint, in a low tone, ‘The ship is ready for action, sir, and -the men are getting impatient;’—the Old Man never turns, but keeps his -eye steadily on the enemy, while he replies, ‘Are—you—all ready, Mr. -Morris?’—‘All ready, sir,’—says the lieutenant—‘Don’t fire a gun till -I give the orders, Mr. Morris,’—says the old man. Presently up comes -a midshipman from the main-deck, touches his hat—‘First division all -ready, sir,—the second lieutenant reports the enemy’s shot have hurt -his men, and he can with difficulty restrain them from returning their -fire;’—‘Tell him to wait for orders, Mr. Morris,’ says the old man -again—never turning his head. Well—just, you see, as the young gentleman -turned to go below, and another shot carries off Mr. Bush, lieutenant -of marines—just as we begins to run into their smoke, and even the old -gun-boat men, as had been with Decatur and Somers, begins to stare, up -jumps the old man in the air, slaps his hand on his thigh with a report -like a pistol, and roars out in a voice that reached the gunners in the -magazines—‘Now, Mr. Morris, give it to them,—now give it to them—fore -and aft—round and grape—give it to ’em, sir—give it to ’em,’ and the -words was scarce out of his mouth, before our whole broadside glanced -at half pistol shot—the old ship trembling from her keel to her trucks, -like an aspen, at the roar of her own batteries—instantly shooting ahead -and doubling across his bows, we gave him the other with three cheers, -and then at it we went—regular hammer and tongs. You would a thought -you were in a thunder storm in the tropics, from the continual roar -and flash of the batteries. In ten minutes, his mizen-mast went by the -board. ‘Hurrah!’ shouts the old man; ‘hurrah, boys, we’ve made a brig of -her.—Fire low, never mind their top hamper! hurrah! we’ll make a sloop -of her before we’ve done.’ In ten minutes more over went her main-mast, -carrying twenty men overboard as it went; and sure enough, sir, in thirty -minutes, that ere Englishman was a sheer hulk, smooth as a canoe, not a -spar standing but his bowsprit; and his decks so completely swept by our -grape and cannister, that there was barely hands enough left to haul down -the colours, as they had bravely nailed to the stump of their main-mast. -‘I say, Kennedy,’ says the vent-holder to me, lying across the gun after -she struck, looking out at the wrack through the port, and his nose was -as black as a nigger’s from the powder flashing under it—‘I say, I wonder -how that ere Englishman likes the smell of the old man’s snuff.’” - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER - - -(Sailors Ashore.—Hornet and Peacock.) - -No. II. - -“Well—well—sailors, is queer animals any how—and always ready for a -fight or frolic—and, so far as I sees, it don’t much matter which. Now, -there was Captain ——, he was a Lieutenant then;—I was up in a draft of -men, with him to the lakes in the war, and as there was no canals nor -steamboats in them days, they marched us up sojer fashion. As we marched -along the road, there was nothing but skylarking and frolic the whole -time,—never a cow lying in the road but the lads must ride, nor a pig, -but they must have a pull at his tail. I recollects, once’t, as we was -passing a farm yard, Jim Albro, as was alongside of me—what does Jim do, -but jumps over the fence and catches a goose out of the pond, and was -clearing with it under his arm, but the farmer, too quick for him, grabs -his musket out of his door, and levelling at Jim, roars out to drop the -goose. Jim catches the goose’s neck tight in his hand, as it spraddles -under his arm, and then turning his head over his shoulder, cries out, -‘_You fire_,—I’ll wring his neck off.’ And so Jim would have got off with -the goose, but one of the officers seeing what was going on, orders Jim -to drop the goose, and have a care how he aggravates the honest farmers -in that ere sort of a way; for, ‘By the powers!’ said he, ‘Mister Jim -Albro—this isn’t the first time, and if I hear of the like agin from -you,—but your back and the boatswain’s mate shall scrape an acquaintance -the first moment we come within the smell of a tarred ratlin.’ - -“It was wrong, to be sure, for Bill to take the man’s goose, seeing as -how it was none of his; but there was one affair that same day, as the -lads turned up to, and though a steady man, I’m free to confess I had a -hand in’t. Why, what do you think sir, but as we what was bound for to -fight the battles of our country—what do you think, but as we comes to -one of them big gates they has on the roads, but the feller as keeps it, -damme, sir, what does he do? but makes all fast, and swear that we shan’t -go through without paying! I’m free to confess, sir, that that ere gate -went off its hinges a little quicker than the chain of our best bower -ever run through the hawse hole. A cummudgeonly son of a land lubber,—as -if, because we didn’t wear long-tail coats, and high-heel boots, we was -to pay like horses and oxen! If the miserable scamp hadn’t’ve vanished -like a streak into the woods, we’d have paid him out of his own tar -bucket, and rolled him over in the feathers of one of his wife’s own -beds. But, d’ye see, that wasn’t the end of it. Them ere lawyers gets -hold of it—and it was the first time any of them land-shirks ever came -athwart my hawse. - -“When we gets to the next town, up comes a constable to the midshipman, -supposing as how he was in command of the draft—up comes the constable, -and says, says he, ‘Capting, I arrests you for a salt and battery, in -behalf of these here men, as has committed it,’ meaning, you understand, -the affair of the gate. Well, the midshipman, all ripe for frolic and fun -himself, pulls a long face, and says gruffly, that his men hadn’t been -engaged in no salt, or no battery; but that they was ready at all times -to fight for their country, and asks him whereaway that same English -battery lay, as he would answer for the lads’ salting it quick enough. -Then the lawyer as was standing with his hands behind him, up and tells -him that ‘it’s for a trespass in the case.’ ‘Oh! a trespass in the -gate—you mean,’ says the midshipman; but just then the lieutenant comes -up to see what’s the muss, and bids me put on my jacket, for d’ye see, I -had squared off to measure the constable for a pair of black eyes—hang me -if the feller didn’t turn as white as a sheet. ‘Put on your jacket, sir,’ -says he, ‘and leave the man alone;’ and then turning to the midshipman, -‘Mr. ——, take the men down to the tavern and splice the main-brace, while -I walk up to the justice’s with the gentle man to settle this affair. -And, hark’ee, ye rascals,’ says he, ‘don’t disgrace the name of blue -jacket in this quiet village, but behave yourselves till I return.’ Well, -he and the lawyer walks up to the justice’s, and there they three takes a -glass of wine together, and that’s the last we hearn of that ere business. - -“There agin, when we took the Peacock;—you all knows about that ere -action; it was what I calls short and sweet. Fifteen minutes from the -first gun, he was cut almost entirely to pieces, his main-mast gone by -the board, six feet of water in the hold, and his flag flying in the -fore-rigging, as a signal of distress. The sea was running so heavy, as -to wash the muzzles of our guns, as we run down. We exchanged broadsides -at half pistol shot, and then, as he wore to rake us, we received his -other broadside, running him close in upon the starboard quarter, and a -drunken sailor never hugged a post closer, nor we did that brig, till -we had hammered day-light out of her. A queer thing is war, though, -and I can’t say as I was ever satisfied as to its desarts, though I’ve -often turned the thing over in my mind in mid-watch since. There was we, -what was stowing our round shot into that ere brig, as if she had been -short of kenteledge, and doing all we could to sweep, with our grape and -cannister, every thing living, from her decks,—there was we, fifteen -minutes after, working as hard as we could pull to, to keep her above -water, while we saved her wounded, and the prisoners, like as she had -been an unfortunate wrack, foundering at sea. But all wouldn’t do—down -she went, carrying thirteen of her own wounded, besides some of our own -brave lads, as was exerting themselves to save them, and mighty near did -Bill Kennedy come to being one of the number, and having a big D marked -agin his name, on the purser’s book, at that same time. The moment she -showed signals of distress, all our boats was put in requisition to -transport the prisoners and wounded to the Hornet. I was in the second -cutter, with midshipman C——; he was a little fellow then, tho’ he’s a -captain now. Well, we stowed her as full as she could stow, and I was -holding on by the boat-hook in the bows, jist ready to push off, when -midshipman C——, jumps aboard agin, and runs back to call a couple of the -Englishmen, as was squared off at each other, at the foot of the main -hatch ladder, settling some old grudge—(for d’ye see, sir, all discypline -is over the moment a ship strikes)—he runs back to tell them to clear -themselves—for the ship was sinking,—but before he could reach it, she -rolls heavily, sways for an instant from side to side, gives a heavy -lurch, and then, down she goes head foremost, carrying them fellers as -was squared off agin each other, and her own wounded, besides four or -five of our own brave lads, right down in the vortex. Our boat spun -round and round like a top, for a moment, and then swept clear, but the -midshipman barely saved himself, by springing into an empty chest as -was floating by, and there he was dancing about in the heavy sea, like a -gull in the surf, and it was nigh on two hours afore we picked him up; -but the little fellow was jist as cool and unconsarned, as if he was in a -canoe on a fish-pond. The next day we opens a subscription, and furnishes -all the British seamen with two shirts, and a blue jacket and trowsers -each,—cause why—d’ye see, they’d lost all their traps in their ship when -she went down.” - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER. - - -(Perry’s Victory on Lake Erie.) - -No. III. - -“But,” says I, “Kennedy—I think you said your draft was bound for the -lakes—which did you go to, Ontario, or Erie?” “I was on both, sir,” says -he, “afore the war was over; and we got as much accustomed to poking our -flying jib-boom into the trees on them shores, as if the sticks was first -cousins—which, seeing as how the ships was built in the woods, wouldn’t -be much of a wonder. Part of that ere draft staid down on Ontario, with -the old commodore, as was watching Sir James, and part was sent up to -Erie. I went up to Erie and joined the Lawrence, Commodore Oliver H. -Perry—and I hopes that old Bill Kennedy needn’t be called a braggart, if -he says he did his part in showing off as handsome a fight on that same -fresh-water pond, as has ever been done by an equal force on blue water. -Our gallant young commodore, made as tight a fight of it as it has ever -been my luck to be engaged in; and seeing as how half of his men was -down with fever and ager, and not one in a dozen knew the difference -between the smell of gunpowder and oil of turpentine, blow me! but I -think it was about as well done. - -“You see our squadron was lying in a bay, as they calls Put-in-Bay—and -when the enemy first hove in sight, it was in the morning, about seven -o’clock. I knows that that was the time, because I had just been made -Quarter-Master, by Captain Perry, and was the first as seen them through -my glass. They was in the nor’-west, bearing down: as soon as we made -them out to be the enemy’s fleet, up went the signal to get under way; -our ship, the Lawrence, in course taking the lead. Well, as we was -working slowly to windward to clear some small islands—one of ’em was -Snake Island—I hearn Captain Perry come up to the master, and ask him in -a low voice, whether he thought he should be able to work out to windward -in time to get the weather-gage of the enemy; but the master said as how -the wind was sou’-west, and light, and he didn’t think he could. ‘Then,’ -said the commodore, aloud, ‘wear ship, sir, and go to leeward, for I am -determined to fight them to-day,’—but just then, the wind came round to -the south’ard and east’erd, and we retained the weather-gage, and slowly -bore down upon the enemy. They did all they could to get the wind, but -not succeeding, hove into line, heading westward, and gallantly waited -for us as we came down. - -“There lay their squadron, all light sails taken in, just like a boxer, -with his sleeves rolled up, and handkercher tied about his loins, ready -to make a regular stand-up fight, and there wasn’t a braver man, nor -better sailor, in the British navy, nor that same Barclay, whose broad -pennant floated in the van of that squadron. - -“Pretty soon, up runs our motto-flag, the dying words of our hero -Lawrence—‘_Don’t give up the ship_,’ and floats proudly from our main, -and then the general order was passed down the line by trumpet, ‘_Each -ship, lay your enemy alongside_’—and if you ever seen a flock of wild -geese flying south’erd in the fall of the year, you’ll have some idee -of us, as we went down into action. The men was full of spirit, and -panting for a fight, and even them as was so sick, as to be hardly able -to stand, insisted upon taking their places at the guns. I recollects one -in particular—he was a carpenter’s mate, a steady man, from Newport—he -crawls up when we beat to quarters, and seats himself upon the head of -one of the pumps, with the sounding-rod in his hand, looking as yellow -as if he had just been dragged out of a North Carolina cypress swamp: -but one of the officers comes up to him as he was sitting there, and -says—‘You are too sick to be here, my man,—there’s no use of your being -exposed for nothing—you had better go below.’ ‘If you please, sir,’ says -the poor fellow, ‘if I can do nothing else, I can save the time of a -better man, and sit here and sound the pump.’ Well, sir, as we bore -down, the English occasionally tried our distance by a shot, and when -we was within about a mile of ’em, one comes ricochetting across the -water, bounds over the bulwarks, and takes that man’s head as clean off -his shoulders, as if it had been done with his own broad-axe. I have -hearn say, that ‘every bullet has its billet,’ and that is sartin, that -it’s no use to dodge a shot, for if you are destined to fall by a shot, -you will sartin fall by that same shot; and I bears in mind, that an -English sailor, one of our prisoners, told me that in a ship of their’n a -feller, as skulked in the cable-tier, during an action with the French, -was found dead with a spent forty-two resting on his neck. The ball had -come in at the starn-port—struck one of the beams for’ard, and tumbled -right in upon him, breaking his neck, as he lay snugly coiled away in the -cable-tier. No, no—misfortins and cannon shot is very much alike—there’s -no dodging—every man must stand up to his work, and take his chance—if -they miss, he is ready when they pipes to grog—if they hit, the purser’s -book is squared, and no more charges is scored agin him. - -“But as I was saying, it wasn’t long before we begun to make our -carronades tell, and then at it we went, hot and heavy, the Lawrence -taking the lead, engaging the Detroit, and every vessel as she came up, -obeying orders and laying her enemy alongside, in right good arnest, -except the Niagara. She hung back—damn her—with her jib brailed up, and -her main-topsail to the mast—consequence was, the Charlotte, as was her -opponent, avails herself of her distance—runs up close under the starn -of the Detroit, and both ships pours in their combined fire into our -ship the Lawrence. I hearn the master myself, and afterwards two or -three of the other officers, go up to the Commodore during the action, -and call his attention to the Niagara, and complain of her treacherous -or cowardly conduct. Well, them two ships gin it to us hot and heavy, -and in three minutes we was so enveloped in smoke, that we only aimed -at the flashes of their guns, for we might as well have tried to trace -a flock of ducks in the thickest fog on the coast of Labrador, as their -spars or hulls. I was working at one of the for’ard guns, and as after -she was loaded, the captain of the piece stood waiting with the trigger -lanyard in his finger, ready to pull, one of the officers calls out, ‘I -say, sir, why don’t you fire?’ ‘I want to make her tell, sir,’ says the -gunner,—‘I am waiting for their flash,—there it is’—and as he pulled -trigger, a cannon shot came through the port, and dashed him to pieces -between us, covering me and the officer all over with his brains. Their -fire was awful; the whole of the shot of the two heaviest ships in the -squadron pouring into us nigh on two hours without stopping. Our brig -became a complete slaughter-house—the guns dismounted—carriages knocked -to pieces—some of our ports knocked into one—hammock-netting shot clean -away—iron stancheons twisted like wire—and a devilish deal more day-light -than canvass in our bolt ropes—the wounded pouring down so fast into -the cockpit, that the surgeons didn’t pretend to do more than apply -tourniquets to stop the bleeding; and many of the men came back to the -guns in that condition; while others was killed in the hands of the -surgeons. One shot came through the cockpit, jist over the surgeon’s -head, and killed midshipman Laub, who was coming up on deck, with a -tourniquet at his shoulder, and another killed a seaman who had already -lost both arms. Our guns was nearly all dismounted; and finally, there -was but one that could be brought to bear; and so completely was the -crew disabled, that the commodore had to work at it with his own hands. -The men became almost furious with despair, as they found themselves -made the target for the whole squadron; and the wounded complained -bitterly of the conduct of the Niagara, as they lay dying on the decks, -and in the cockpit. Two shots passed through the magazine—one knocked -the lantern to pieces, and sent the lighted wick upon the floor; and if -the gunner hadn’t have jumped on it with his feet, before it caught the -loose powder—my eyes! but that ere ship and every thing on board would -have gone into the air like a sheaf of sky-rockets, and them as was on -board, never would have know’d which side whipped. Out of one hundred -men that went into action, eighty-three were either killed or wounded, -and every officer was killed or hurt except the Commodore. Our Lieutenant -of marines, lieutenant Brooks—him as was called the Boston Apollo—the -handsomest man in the sarvice, was cut nearly in two by a cannon shot, -and died before the close of the action. - -“It was nigh on all up with us. The men was real grit though, and even -the wounded, cried, ‘Blow her up,’ rather than strike. Well, as things -stood, there was an end of the Lawrence, so far as fighting went,—and our -Commodore says, says he,—‘Lieutenant Yarnall, the American flag must not -be pulled down over my head this day, while life remains in my body: I -will go on board that ship and bring her myself into action—and I will -leave it to you to pull down the Lawrence’s flag, if there is no help for -it.’ So we got our barge alongside, by the blessing of Heaven, not so -much injured but what she’d float, and off we pushed for the Niagara—the -Commodore standing with his motto flag under his arm; but as soon as the -enemy caught sight of us, they delivered a whole broadside directly at -the boat—and then peppered away so briskly, that the water all around us -bubbled like a duck-pond in a thunder shower. There Perry stood, erect -and proud, in the starn sheets—his pistols strapped in his belt, and his -sword in his hand—his eyes bent upon the Niagara,—as if he’d jump the -distance,—never heeding the shot flying around him like hail. The men -begged him to sit down—they entreated him with tears in their eyes—but it -was not until I dragged him down by main force,—the men declaring that -they would lay upon their oars and be taken—that he consented. - -“There’s them as says the Niagara _wouldn’t_ come down, and there’s them -as says she _couldn’t_—all _I_ knows is, that when our gallant young -Commodore took the quarter-deck, she walked down into the thickest of it -quick enough—my eyes! how we did give it to ’em, blazing away from both -sides at once. We ran in between the Detroit and Charlotte, our guns -crammed to the muzzle, and delivered both of our broadsides into them at -the same time—grape, cannister and all,—raking the others as we passed; -and the Niagara lads showed it wasn’t no fault of their’n, that they -hadn’t come earlier to their work. I never know’d guns sarved smarter, -than they sarved their’n, till the end of the action—nor with better -effect. We soon silenced the enemy, and run up the stars again on the -Lawrence as she lay a complete wrack, shattered and cut up among them, -for all the world like a dead whale surrounded by shirks. They struck one -after another, much like you may have seen the flags of a fleet run down -after the evening gun; and as the firing ceased, and the heavy smoke bank -rolled off to leeward, shiver my timbers! but it was a sight for a Yankee -tar to see the striped bunting slapping triumphantly in the breeze over -the British jacks at their gaffs. - -“If there’s any man, tho’, as says that their Commodore wasn’t a man -every inch of him, aye! and as good a seaman, too, as ever walked a -caulked plank, there’s one here, and his name’s Bill Kennedy, as will -tell him, that he’s a know-nothing, and talks of a better man nor -himself. Aye—aye—scrape the crown off his buttons, and he might mess -with Decatur and Lawrence, and splice the main-brace with Stewart and -Hull, and they be proud of his company. He was badly cut up, tho’, and -I have hear’n tell, that when he got home to England, he wouldn’t go -for to see the lady what he’d engaged to marry, but sent her word by a -friend—I don’t know who that friend was—but suppose it was his first -lieutenant, in course,—he sends her word that he wouldn’t hold her to her -engagement—cause why, says he, ‘I’m all cut to pieces, and an’t the man I -was, when she engaged for to be my wife.’ Well, what d’ye think the noble -girl says, when she hearn this;—‘Tell him,’ says she, ‘as long as there’s -enough of him left to hold his soul, I will be his.’—I say, Master Tom, -that’s most up to the Virginny gals. Well—well—there never was but one, -as would have said as much for Bill Kennedy, and she, poor Sue—she -married curly-headed Bob, captain of the main-top in the Hornet,—in a -pet, and was sorry when it was too late. She was a good girl, though—and -I’ve lent her and her young ones a hand once’t or twice since in the -breakers.” - - - - -OLD KENNEDY, THE QUARTER-MASTER. - - -(Chesapeake and Shannon—Boat Fight on Lake Ontario.) - -No. IV. - -“Well, Mr. Kennedy,” says Lee, “you have told us of your victories,—have -you always been victorious—have you always had the luck on your -side,—where did you lose your arm?” The old man took a long and -deliberate survey of the horizon ahead of us, apparently not well -pleased with a dark cloud just beginning to lift itself above its edge; -but whatever inferences he drew from it he kept to himself, and having -relieved his mouth from the quid, and replenished the vacuum by a fresh -bite of the pig-tail, he leisurely turned to us again, and replied with -some emphasis—‘Them as fights the English, fights men—and though it’s -been my luck to be taken twice by them, once’t in the unlucky Chesapeake, -and once’t on the lakes, and though I owes the loss of my flipper to a -musket marked G.R., I hopes I bears them no more grudge than becomes a -true yankee sailor. Now, speaking of that, I’ve always obsarved, since -the war, when our ships is in the same port, that however much we -always fights, when we falls in with each other, that the moment the -English or Americans gets into a muss with the French, or the Dutch, or -the Spaniards, that we makes common cause, and tumbles in and helps one -another—but I’m blest! but that Chesapeake business was a bad affair. -They took the ship;—let them have the credit of it, say I;—but no great -credit neither; for half the men was foreigners in a state of mutiny, -and none of the men know’d their officers. I hearn Captain Lawrence say -himself, after he was carried below, that when he ordered the bugle-man -to sound, to repel boarders, the cursed Portuguese was so frightened, or -treacherous, that no sound came from the bugle, though his cheeks swelled -as if in the act; and I hearn a British officer say to one of our’n, -that Captain Lawrence owed his death to his wearing a white cravat into -action, and that a sharp-shooter in their tops picked him off, knowing as -how, that no common man would be so dressed. I don’t complain of their -getting the best of it, for that’s the fortune of war; but they behaved -badly after the colours was hauled down. They fired down the hatches, -and“—lifting his hat, and exhibiting a seam that measured his head from -the crown to the ear—”I received this here slash from the cutlash of a -drunken sailor, for my share, as I came up the main-hatch, after she -surrendered—My eyes! all the stars in heaven was dancing before me as -I tumbled back senseless on the gun-deck below; and when they brought -the ship into Halifax, she smelt more like a slaughter-house nor a -Christian man-of-war. Howsomever, they whipt us, and there’s an end of -the matter—only I wish’t our gallant Lawrence might have died before the -colours came down, and been spared the pain of seeing his ship in the -hands of the enemy. It was what we old sailors expected, though. She was -an unlucky ship, and that disgraceful affair between her and the Leopard, -was enough to take the luck out of any ship. Now if it had been “Old -Ironsides,”[1] or the “Old Wagon,”[2] I’m blessed! but the guns would -have gone off themselves, had the whole crew mutinied and refused to come -to quarters, when they heard the roar of the British cannon—aye, aye, -Old Ironsides’ bull-dogs have barked at John Bull often enough, aye, and -always held him by the nose, too, when they growled—but the Chesapeake’s -colours was hauled down, while the Shannon’s was flying.—That’s enough—we -had to knock under—let them have the credit of it, say I.—They’d little -cause, except in that ere fight, to crow over the Yankee blue jackets. -They whipt us, and there’s an end of the matter, and be damned to -’em.—But that ain’t answering your question, as how I lost my larboard -flipper. It wasn’t in that ere unfortunate ship, altho’ if it would have -saved the honour of the flag, Bill Kennedy would willingly have given -his head and his arms too—but it was under Old Chauncey on Lake Ontario. -It was in a boat expedition on that ’ere lake, that I first got a loose -sleeve to my jacket, besides being made a pris’ner into the bargain. You -see, Sir James was shut up in Kingston, and beyond the harbour there -was a long bay or inlet setting up some three or four miles. Now, the -Commodore thought it mought be, there was more of his ships in that -same bay; so he orders Lieutenant ——, him as the English called the -‘Dare-devil Yankee,’—the same as went in with a barge the year before -and burned a heavy armed schooner on the stocks, with all their stores, -and came away by the light of it—at—at—I misremember the place—he orders -him to proceed up the bay to reconniter—to see whether there was any of -the enemy’s ships at anchor there—to get all the information he could of -his movements, and to bring off a prisoner if he could catch one—that -the Commodore mought overhaul him at his leisure. So the lieutenant -takes a yawl as we had captured some days before, having Sir James’s -own flag painted upon her bows, with midshipman Hart, and eight of us -men, and pulls leisurely along shore, till we made the entrance of the -bay. It was a bright summer afternoon, and the water was as calm as -the Captain’s hand-basin—not a ripple to be seen. Well, the entrance -was narrow, and somewhat obstructed by small islands; but we soon got -through them, never seeing two heavy English men-of-war barges, as was -snugly stowed in the bushes; but about three miles up, we spies a raft of -timber, with two men on it. We gave way, and before long got up abreast -of it. When we got close aboard the raft, the lieutenant hailing one -of the men, calls him to the side nearest the boat, and says—‘My man, -what are you lying here for, doing nothing—the wind and tide are both in -your favour—don’t you know we are waiting down at Kingston for this here -timber for his Majesty’s sarvice—what are you idling away your time for -here?’ The feller first looks at Sir James’s flag painted upon the bows -of the yawl; and then at the lieutenant, and then again at the flag—and -then at the lieutenant—and then opens his eyes, and looks mighty scarey, -without saying anything, with his mouth wide open,—‘I say,’ says the -Lieutenant agin, ‘I say, you feller with the ragged breeches, do you mean -to swallow my boat—why don’t you answer—what the devil are you doing -here?’ The feller scratches his head, and then stammers, ‘I—I—_I_ know -_you_—you are him as burnt Mr. Peter’s schooner last year.’ ‘Well,’ says -the Lieutenant, ‘what are you going to do with this here timber.’ ‘I’m -carrying it down for a raising,’ says he. ‘What!’ says the Lieutenant, -‘do you use ship’s knees and transom beams for house raising in this part -of the country? It won’t do, my man. Bear a hand, my lads, and pile all -the boards and light stuff in the centre, and we’ll make a bonfire in -honour of his most sacred Majesty.’ So we set fire to it, and took the -spokesman on board the yawl,—towing the other man in their skiff astarn, -intending to release them both when we had got all the information that -we wanted out of them. We returned slowly down the bay again, the blazing -raft making a great smoke; but as we neared the outlet, what does we see, -but them two heavy barges pulling down to cut us off. We had to run some -distance nearly parallel with them, an island intervening—so we every -moment came nearer to them, and soon within speaking distance. The men -gave way hearty—in fear of an English prison, but as we came nearer each -other, some of the officers in the English boats recognises Lieutenant -——, cause why—they had been prisoners with us—and hails him—“G——,” says -they, ‘you must submit, it’s no use for you to resist, we are four to -your one. Come, old feller, don’t make any unnecessary trouble, but give -up—you’ve got to knock under.’ The Lieutenant said nothing,—but he was a -particular man, and had his own notions upon the subject, for, bidding -the men give way, he coolly draws sight upon the spokesman with his -rifle, and most sartin, as he was a dead shot, there would have been a -vacant commission in His Majesty’s Navy, hadn’t the raftsman, who was -frightened out of his wits, caught hold of him by the tails of his coat -and dragged him down into the bottom of the boat. The Lieutenant drops -his rifle, and catches the feller by his legs and shoulders and heaves -him clear of the boat towards the skiff—while we men, dropping our oars, -gave them a volley with our muskets, and then laid down to it again. We -had taken them by surprise, but as we dashed along ahead, they returned -our fire with interest, peppering some of our lads and killing Midshipman -Hart outright, who merely uttered an exclamation as his oar flew up above -his head, and he fell dead in the bottom of the boat. Well, we see’d -the headmost barge all ready, lying on her oars and waiting for us, and -as there was no running the gauntlet past her fire, we made for another -opening from the bay as didn’t appear to be obstructed, but as we nears -it, and just begins to breathe free, three boats full of lobsters, of -red-coats, shoots right across, and closes the entrance effectually on -that side. We was in a regular rat-trap. We had been seen and watched -from the moment we had got inside of the bay, burning the raft and all. -‘Well, my lads,’ says the Lieutenant, ‘this will never do—we must go -about—hug the shore close, and try to push by the barges.’ So about we -went, but as we neared the shore, there was a party of them ’ere riflemen -in their leggins and hunting-shirts, all ready for us, waiting just as -cool and unconsarned as if we was a parcel of Christmas turkies, put up -for them to shoot at. ‘Umph,’ says the Lieutenant again, ‘’twon’t do -for them fellers to be cracking their coach-whips at us neither—we’ve -nothing to do for it, my boys, but to try our luck, such as it is, with -the barges.’ So as we pulled dead for the entrance of the bay, they lay -on their oars, all ready for us, and as we came up, they poured such a -deadly fire into that ere yawl as I never seed before or since. There -was nineteen wounds among eight of us. The Lieutenant was the only one -unhurt, though his hat was riddled through and through, and his clothes -hung about him in tatters. How he was presarved, is a miracle, for he was -standing all the while in the starn-sheets, the most exposed of any on -board. They kept firing away, as if they intended to finish the business, -and gin no quarter, the men doing what little they could to pull at the -oars; but a boat of wounded and dying men couldn’t make much headway. Our -men was true Yankee lads, tho’—and no flinching. - -“There was one man named Patterson, as pulled on the same thwart with -me, and of all the men I’ve ever sailed with, he showed most of what -I calls real grit. At their first volley, he gets a shot through his -thigh, shattering the bone so that it hung twisted over on one side, but -he pulls away at his oar as if nothing had happened. Presently another -passes through his lungs, and comes out at his back—still he pulls away, -and didn’t give in;—at last, a third takes him through the throat, and -passes out back of his neck;—then, and not till then, did he call out to -the lieutenant—‘Mr. G—, I’m killed, sir;—I’m dead;—I can’t do no more.’ -So the lieutenant says—‘Throw your oar overboard, Patterson, and slide -down into the bottom of the boat, and make yourself as comfortable as you -can.’ Well—what does Patterson do, as he lays in the bottom of the boat -bleeding to death, what does he do but lifts his arm over the gunwale, -and shaking his fist, cry, ‘Come on, damn ye, one at a time, and I’m -enough for ye as I am.’ Aye, aye, Patterson was what I calls real grit. -He was a good, quiet, steady man, too, on board ship; always clean and -ac_tyv_e, and cheerful in obeying orders. Howsomever, his time had come, -and in course there was an end of his boat duty in this world. - -“Well—they continued to fire into us as fast as they could load, cause -why, they was aggravated that so small a force should have fired into -them; but the lieutenant takes off his hat and makes a low bow, to let -them know as how he had surrendered, and then directs me to hold up an -oar’s blade; but they takes no notice of neither, and still peppered -away; but just as we concludes that they didn’t intend to give no -quarter, but meant to extarminate us outright, they slacks firing, and, -taking a long circuit, as if we’d have been a torpedo, or some other -dangerous combustible, pulled up aboard. There wasn’t much for them to -be afeard on though, for with the exception of the lieutenant, who was -untouched, there was nothing in the boat but dead and wounded men. -They took us in tow, and carried us down to Kingston, and mighty savage -was Sir James;—he said that it was unpardonable that so small a force -should have attempted resistance, and he and the lieutenant getting -high, and becoming aggravated by something as was said between them, -Sir James claps him in a state-room under arrest, and keeps him there -under a sentry, with a drawn baggonet, for nigh on two months. After -that he sends the lieutenant to Quebec, and then to England, where he -remained till the close of the war; but them of us men as didn’t die of -our wounds was kept down in Montreal, until——” Here the old man broke -off abruptly, and taking another long look at the horizon, said, “If I -a’nt much mistaken, Master Tom, there’s something a-brewing ahead there, -as will make this here craft wake up, as if she was at the little end -of a funnel, with a harricane pouring through the other—and if I knows -the smell of a Potomac thundergust, we’ll have it full blast here before -we’re many minutes older.” - -[1] Frigate Constitution. - -[2] Frigate United States. - - - - -LEE’S PARTISAN LEGION. - - -Old Kennedy quietly proceeded to make the necessary preparations to -encounter the tempest. His peacoat was got out of the locker, and tightly -buttoned about him, and his tarpaulin well secured by its lanyard to -his button-hole. The mainsail and foresail were stowed and secured, and -nothing but the jib, the bonnet of which was reefed down, was allowed to -remain spread upon our dark and graceful schooner. - -The cloud in the horizon began to extend itself, increasing and -gradually rising and covering the sky, and the old man’s prediction was -evidently about to be fulfilled. A dead calm lay upon the river, and a -preternatural stillness clothed in a sort of stupor the whole face of -nature around us; while low muttering rolls of thunder from the dark -cloud, and the frequent, sudden, crinkling lightning, glittering across -its surface, warned us that we were about to encounter one of those -violent and terrible thunder-storms which not unfrequently occur in this -part of the country. - -The distant muttering in the horizon rapidly became louder, and the -perfect stillness of the forest was broken. The melancholy sighs of the -coming blast increased to wails,—the boughs of the trees rubbed against -each other with a slow, see-saw motion, and, as the storm increased, -grated with a harsh and continued groaning. The lightning became quick -and incessant, and blindingly vivid, and the dark gloom of the forest -was rendered still darker by its rapid glare. The river itself soon was -lashed into foam behind us, and in a few moments more, accompanied by -huge clouds of dust, the tempest came roaring upon us. The cultivated -fields and cheerful plantations which were but now smiling in quietness -and repose, on the other side of the river, were now instantly shut out -by the deep gloom. As the gust struck the schooner, she checked for a -moment as if in surprise, and then shot forward with the speed of an -arrow from the bow, swept on in the furious tempest as if she had been a -gossamer or feather, enveloped in dust and darkness, the rain and hail -hissing as it drove onwards, and the terrific thunder, now like whole -broadsides of artillery, now quick and incessant peals of musquetry, -roaring with frightful violence around her, while the deep black forest, -lit up by the blue lightning, bellowed incessantly with the hollow -echoes. As we swept forward with frantic swiftness, a quivering white -flash struck the top of an immense oak, and ere the crashing, deafening -roar of the thunder followed, it was torn and splintered, shivered and -burning, hurled on by the blast. - -As soon as the squall struck us, we ensconced ourselves below, in full -confidence of our safety with Old Kennedy at the helm; and a fine subject -would the old seaman have been for a painter, as he sat amid the fury of -the storm, stern and erect, the tiller under the stump of his left arm, -and the jib-sheets with one turn around the cleet in his right hand—the -usual surly expression of his countenance increased into grim defiance, -as he steadily and unmovingly kept his eyes fixed into the gloom ahead. -At one time we darted by a sloop at anchor, which had let go every thing -by the run, her sails over her side in the water, on which, if the yacht -had struck, she would have been crumpled up like a broken egg-shell; but -thanks to our old Quartermaster’s care, we dashed by in the gloom, his -eyes never even for a moment turning on her as we passed. - -The storm swept us on in its fury for some time, when it gradually abated -in violence, and began to subside. The heavy clouds, flying higher and -higher in detached masses in the heavens, by and bye lifted themselves in -the western sky, and through the ragged intervals the setting sun poured -his last rays over the dripping forest, bronzing the dark sides of our -little schooner as he sunk and disappeared beneath the horizon. As the -evening wore on, a star here and there discovered itself struggling amid -the scud flying over it, and presently the moon shone out with her broad -and silver light, and every vestige of the storm had disappeared. - -As we glided gaily on, with a fresh, fine breeze, towards our cottage -home past the deep forest, the silence was broken by a long, melancholy -howl, which I supposed was that of a solitary wolf, but Lee said that -it was more probably from some one of the large breed of dogs which -are found on most of the plantations. Lee’s mind was of a sad and -pensive, although not at all of a gloomy cast; and like most men of -that character, he required strong excitement to arouse him; but when -aroused, of all delightful companions that I have ever met, he was the -man. The excitement of the storm had been sufficient stimulus, and giving -the reins to his wild spirits and excited feelings, he entertained us -with an incessant stream of anecdote and adventure. The howl of the -wolf had recalled to mind an incident in the life of his ancestor, -Lieutenant-Colonel Lee, and in connection, he related it with many other -adventures of the celebrated Partisan Legion. I will not attempt to use -his beautiful and spirit-stirring language, but will confine myself to -a few disjointed anecdotes, of the many which he related of the dashing -corps, as they happen to recur to my memory. - -The Legion, intended to act independently or conjointly with the main -army, as circumstances might require, was composed of three companies -of infantry, and three troops of cavalry, amounting in all to three -hundred and fifty men, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Lee, who, -every inch a soldier, had won for himself in the Southern campaigns, -and particularly in the masterly retreat of Green, before Cornwallis, -the honourable distinction of being called “the eye of the Southern -army.” He was Green’s confidential adviser and constant friend:—a stern -disciplinarian, he was nevertheless beloved by his officers and men, and -so careful was he of the interests of the latter, that while the rest of -the army were suffering, the Legion by his exertions was always retained -in the highest state of personal appearance and discipline. The horses -were powerful and kept in high condition;—indeed Lee has been accused of -being more careful for their safety than for that of his men. The cavalry -in the British army mounted on inferior horses, could not stand a moment -before them; and armed with their long heavy sabres, Lee’s troopers were -considered full match for double the force of the enemy. - -The Legion infantry were well equipped, and thoroughly disciplined men, -and acted in unison with the cavalry. They were commanded by Captain -Michael Rudolph, a man of small stature, but of the most determined -and daring courage, and of great physical strength. He always led in -person the “forlorn hope,” when the Legion’s services were required in -the storm of posts, and he was so completely the idol of his men, that -it was only necessary that he should be detailed on duty of the most -desperate character, that the infantry, to a man, were anxious to be -engaged in it. The leading captain of the cavalry, James Armstrong, was -almost precisely his counterpart in person, in strength, in undaunted -courage and heroic daring, beloved by his men, ahead of whom he was -always found in the charge. O’Neal, also of the cavalry, was a bold and -gallant man, who fought his way up from the ranks; for no carpet knight -had consideration in the corps. In an early part of his career, he came -near cutting off in the bud, Cornwallis’ favourite cavalry officer, -Lieutenant-Colonel Tarleton; for this officer, whatever his merits or -demerits, endeavoured to enter a window at which O’Neal was posted, when -the latter, dropping his carabine, snapped it within an inch of his head, -but the piece missing fire, Tarleton very coolly looked up at him with a -smile, and said, “You have missed it for this time, my lad,” and wheeling -his horse, joined the rest of his troop, who were on the retreat. - -It were perhaps difficult to select the brave from a body of men who -were all brave, but it is not invidious to say, that there was not a -man of more fearless courage in the corps than Lieutenant Manning of -the Legion infantry. At the battle of Eutaw, commanding his platoon to -charge, he rushed on in his usual reckless manner, without stopping or -looking behind him, until he was brought up by a large stone house, into -which the Royal York Volunteers under Lieutenant-Colonel Cruger, were -retiring. The British were on all sides, and no American soldier within -two hundred yards of him. Without a moment’s hesitation, he threw himself -upon a British officer, and seizing him by the collar, wrested his sword -from his grasp, exclaiming, in a harsh voice, “You are my prisoner, sir.” -Interposing him between the enemy and himself, as a shield from the heavy -fire pouring from the windows, he then very coolly and deliberately -backed out of danger: the prisoner, who was not deemed by his brother -officers a prodigy of valour, pompously enumerating his rank and titles, -which Manning occasionally interrupted with, “You are right—you are -right—you’re just the man, sir,—you shall preserve _me_ from danger, and -rest assured I’ll take good care of _you_.” - -Manning had retreated some distance from the house, when he saw his -friend Captain Joyett, of the Virginia line, engaged in single combat -with a British officer. The American was armed with his sword, while the -Briton was defending himself with a bayonet. As the American approached, -the Englishman made a thrust with the bayonet, which Joyett successfully -parried with his sword, when both of them dropping the arms which they -could not wield in so close an encounter, simultaneously clinched, and -being men of great and nearly equal bodily strength, they were soon -engaged in a desperate and deadly struggle. While thus engaged, an -English grenadier seeing the danger of his officer, ran up and with his -bayonet made a lounge, which luckily missing Joyett’s body, passed only -through the skirts of his coat, but the bayonet becoming entangled in -the folds, upon its withdrawal dragged both of the combatants together -to the ground. The soldier having disengaged it, was about deliberately -to transfix Joyett by a second thrust, when Manning, seeing the danger -of his friend, without being sufficiently near in the crisis to assist -him, called out as he hurried up in an authoritative tone, “You would -not murder the gentleman, you brute!”—The grenadier supposing himself -addressed by one of his own officers, suspended the contemplated blow -and turned towards the speaker, but before he could recover from his -surprise, Manning cut him across the eyes with his sword, while Joyett -disengaging himself from his opponent, snatched up the musket, and -with one blow laid him dead with the butt;—the valiant prisoner whom -Manning had dragged along, and who invariably asserted that he had been -captured by “Joyett, a huge Virginian,”—instead of Manning, who was a -small man—standing a horror-struck spectator of the tragedy. An equally -brave man was Sergeant Ord, of Manning’s company;—in the surprise of -the British at Georgetown, when a company of the Legion infantry had -captured a house with its enclosures, the enemy made an attempt to -regain it; the commanding officer calling out to his men, “Rush on, my -brave fellows—they are only militia, and have no bayonets;”—Ord placing -himself in front of the gate as they attempted to enter, laid six of -them in succession, dead at his feet, accompanying each thrust with—“Oh! -no bayonets here—none to be sure!”—following up his strokes with such -rapidity that the party were obliged to give up the attempt and retire. - -But perhaps there could have been no two characters in the corps more -the perfect antipodes of each other, than the two surgeons of the -cavalry, Irvine and Skinner, for while Irvine was entirely regardless -of his person, and frequently found engaged sword in hand, in the -thickest of the fight, where his duty by no means called him, Skinner -was as invariably found in the rear, cherishing his loved person from -the threatened danger. Indeed he was a complete counterpart of old -Falstaff;—the same fat and rotund person—the same lover of good cheer -and good wine—and entertaining the same aversion to exposing his dear -body to the danger of missiles or cuts;—not only was he a source of fun -in himself, “but he was the cause of it in others.” He asserted that his -business was in the rear—to cure men, not to kill them; and when Irvine -was wounded at the charge of Quinby’s bridge, he refused to touch him, -until he had dressed the hurts of the meanest of the soldiers, saying -that Matthew Irvine was served perfectly right, and had no business to be -engaged out of his vocation. At the night alarm at Ninety-six, Colonel -Lee, hastening forward to ascertain the cause, met the Doctor in full -retreat, and stopping him, addressed him, with—“Where so fast, Doctor—not -frightened I hope,”—“No, Colonel,” replied Skinner—“not frightened—but I -confess, most infernally alarmed.” His eccentricities extended not alone -to his acts, but to every thing about him. Among other peculiarities, -he wore his beard long, and unshorn, and upon being asked by a brother -officer why he did so, he replied, that “that was a secret between Heaven -and himself, which no human impertinence should ever penetrate.” Like -Falstaff, and with similar success, he considered himself the admired -of the fair sex,—“Ay!” said he, to Captain Carns, of the infantry, “Ay, -Carns, I have an _eye_!” Yet Skinner was by no means a man to be trifled -with, for he was not devoid of a certain sort of courage, as he had -proved in half a dozen duels, in one of which he had killed his man. When -asked how it was, that he was so careful of his person in action, when he -had shown so plainly that he was not deficient in courage,—he replied, -“That he considered it very arrogant in a surgeon, whose business it was -to cure, to be aping the demeanour and duty of a commissioned officer, -and that he was no more indisposed to die than other gentlemen, but -that he had an utter aversion to the noise and tumult of battle,—that -it stunned and stupified him.” On one occasion, when the Legion was -passing through a narrow defile, the centre was alarmed by the drums -of the infantry beating to arms in front,—Skinner, with the full sense -of what was due to himself, whirled about, and giving his horse a short -turn by the bridle, brought him down on his back in the middle of the -defile, completely blocking it up, and preventing either egress or -ingress—relief or retreat. The infantry and cavalry which had passed the -gorge, immediately deployed on the hill in front, while the remainder -of the Legion, galloping up, were completely severed by this singular -and unexpected obstruction, until Captain Egglestone dismounting some -of his strongest troopers, succeeded in dragging the horse out of the -defile by main force. It turned out that the alarm was false, otherwise -the doctor’s terror might have caused the destruction of one-half of the -corps. - -But to recur to the incident brought to mind by the howling of the wolf. -When the Legion was on its march to form a junction with Marion, on the -little Pedee, it one night encamped in a large field on the southern -side of a stream, with the main road in front. The night passed on very -quietly, until about two or three in the morning, when the officer of -the day reported that a strange noise had been heard by the picquet in -front, on the great road, resembling the noise of men moving through -the adjoining swamp. While he was yet speaking, the sentinel in that -quarter fired his piece, which was immediately followed by the bugle -calling in the horse patroles, the invariable custom upon the approach -of an enemy. The drums instantly beat to arms, and the troops arranged -for defence. The sentries on being questioned, all concurred in the -same account, “and one patrol of horse asserted that they had heard -horsemen concealing with the greatest care their advance.” Lee was in -great perplexity, for he knew that he was not within striking distance -of any large body of the enemy, and that Marion was at least two days -distance in advance; but soon a sentinel in another direction fired, and -the same report was brought in from him; and it was apparent, however -unaccountable, that the enemy were present. A rapid change in the -formation of the troops was made to meet the attack in this quarter, -but it was hardly accomplished before the fire of a third sentinel in a -different direction, communicated the intelligence of danger from another -quarter. Feelings of intense anxiety were now aroused, and preparations -were made for a general assault, as soon as light should allow it to be -made. The picquets and sentinels held their stations, the horse patrols -were called in, and the corps changed its position in silence, and with -precision upon every new communication, with the combined object of -keeping the fires between them and the enemy, and the horse in the rear -of the infantry. - -While thus engaged, another and rapid discharge by the sentinels, on the -line of the great road, plainly indicated that the enemy were in force, -and that with full understanding of their object, they had surrounded -them. It was also evident that there must be a large body of the enemy, -from their covering so large a segment of the circle around them. It was -equally apparent that they could expect no aid from any quarter, and -relying upon themselves, the corps awaited in extreme anxiety, the scene -which the day was to usher upon them. - -Lee passed along the line of infantry and cavalry, in a low tone urging -upon them the necessity of profound silence, reminding them that in -the approaching contest they must sustain their high reputation, and -expressing his confidence, that with their accustomed bravery, they -would be able to cut their way through all opposing obstacles, and reach -the Pedee. His address was answered by whispers of applause, and having -formed the cavalry and infantry into two columns, he awaited anxiously -the break of day, to give the signal for action. It soon appeared, and -the columns advanced on the great road; infantry in front, baggage in -the centre, and cavalry in the rear. As soon as the head of the column -reached the road, the van officer proceeding a few hundred yards received -the same account that had been given from the sentinel that had fired -last. - -The enigma remained unexplained, and no enemy being in view, there could -be but little doubt that the attack was to be from ambushment, and the -column moved slowly on, expecting every moment to receive their fire. -But the van officer’s attention having been accidentally attracted, he -examined, and found along the road, the tracks of a large pack of wolves. -The mystery was now solved; it was evident that the supposed enemy was -no other than the pack of wild beasts, which, turned from their route -by the fire of the sentinels, had passed still from point to point in a -wide circuit, bent upon the attainment of their object. A quantity of -provisions had been stored some time previously on their line of march, -but having become spoiled, it was abandoned in the vicinity of the -night’s encampment, and the wolves had been disturbed by the videts, in -the nightly progress to their regale. The agitation instantly subsided, -and wit and merriment flashed on all sides, “every one appearing anxious -to shift the derision from himself upon his neighbour, the commandant -himself coming in for his share; and as it was the interest of the many -to fix the stigma on the few, the corps unanimously charged the officer -of the day, the guards, the patrols and picquets, with gross stupidity, -hard bordering upon cowardice:” nevertheless, they were none the less -relieved by the happy termination of an adventure attended by so many -circumstances naturally alarming, and it long passed as an excellent joke -in the Legion, under the title of the “Wolf reconnoitre.” - -The music sounded merrily, and the column marched on, elate with the -fun and novelty of the adventure, and of the buglers none blew a more -cheery strain than little Jack Ellis the bugler of Armstrong’s troop. -He was a fine boy, small and intelligent, as well as young and handsome, -and a general favourite in the Legion. Poor little fellow! he met his -death under circumstances peculiarly tragic and cruel, not long after. -When the Southern army, under Green, was slowly making its masterly -retreat before Cornwallis, the Legion formed part of the rear-guard, and -was consequently almost continually in sight of the van of the enemy, -commanded by Brigadier-General O’Hara. The duty devolving upon it, -severe in the day, was extremely so in the night, for numerous patrols -and picquets were constantly required to be on the alert, to prevent -the enemy from taking advantage of the darkness to get near the main -army by circuitous routes, so that one half of the troops of the rear -guard were alternately put on duty day and night, and the men were not -able to get more than six hours sleep out of the forty-eight. But the -men were in fine spirits, notwithstanding the great fatigue to which -they were subjected. They usually, at the break of day, hurried on, to -gain as great a distance in advance as possible, that they might secure -their breakfast, the only meal during the rapid and hazardous retreat. -One drizzly and cold morning, the officers and dragoons, in pursuance of -this custom, had hurried on to the front, and just got their corn cakes -and meat on the coals, when a countryman, mounted on a small and meagre -pony, came galloping up, and hastily asking for the commanding officer, -he informed him that the British column, leaving the main line of march, -were moving obliquely in a different direction, and that, discovering the -manœuvre from a field where he was burning brush, he had run home, caught -the first horse he could lay his hands upon, and hurried along with the -information. Unwilling to believe the report of the countryman, although -he could not well doubt it, and reluctant to disturb so materially the -comfort of the men, as to deprive them of the breakfast for which they -were waiting with keen appetites, Lee ordered Captain Armstrong to take -one section of horse, accompanied by the countryman, to return on the -route, and having reconnoitred, to make his report. - -Circumstances, however, strengthening him in the belief that the -information of the countryman was correct, he took a squadron of cavalry, -and followed on to the support of Armstrong, whom he overtook at no great -distance ahead. Perceiving no sign of the enemy, he again concluded that -the countryman was mistaken. He therefore directed Armstrong to take the -guide and three dragoons, and to advance still further on the road, while -he returned with the squadron to finish their breakfast. The countryman -mounted on his sorry nag, protested against being thus left to take care -of himself, asserting that though the dragoons on their spirited and -powerful horses were sure of safety, if pursued—he, on his jaded hack, -was equally sure of being taken. Lee acknowledged the danger of the -friendly guide, dismounted the little bugler, and giving the countryman -his horse, he placed Ellis upon the hack, sending him on in front to -report to the commanding officer. After having returned a short distance, -the squadron entered the woods, on the road side, and the dragoons -leisurely proceeded to finish their breakfast—but they had hardly got it -out of their haversacks, when a firing of musketry was heard, and almost -immediately after the clatter of horses’ hoofs coming on at full gallop. -The next moment, Armstrong, with his dragoons and the countryman came in -sight, pursued by a troop of Tarleton’s dragoons, at the top of their -speed. - -Lee saw Armstrong with his small party well in front and hard in hand, -and felt no anxiety about them, as he knew that their horses were so -superior to those of the enemy that they were perfectly safe, but the -danger of the bugler, who could be but little ahead, immediately caused -him serious uneasiness. Wishing however, to let the British squadron -get as far from support as possible, he continued in the woods for a -few moments, intending to interpose in time to save the boy. Having -let them get a sufficient distance, and assuring himself that there -was nothing coming up to their support, he put the squadron in motion -and appeared on the road, but only in time to see the enraged dragoons -overtake and sabre the poor little suppliant, as he in vain implored -for quarter. Infuriated at the sight, he gave orders to charge, and the -English officer had barely time to form, when Lee’s squadron was upon -them like a whirlwind—killing, prostrating, and unhorsing almost the -whole of the force in an instant, while the captain, and the few left -unhurt endeavoured to escape. Ordering Lieutenant Lewis to follow on in -pursuit, with strict orders to give no quarter, an order dictated by the -sanguinary act that they had just witnessed, he placed the dying boy in -the arms of two of the dragoons, directing them to proceed onwards to the -camp, and immediately after pushed on to the support of Lewis, whom he -soon met returning with the English captain and several of his dragoons, -prisoners—the officer unhurt, but the men severely cut in the face, neck, -and shoulders. Reprimanding Lewis on the spot for disobedience of orders, -he peremptorily charged the British officer with the atrocity that they -had just witnessed, and ordered him to prepare for instant death. The -officer urged that he had in vain endeavoured to save the boy, that his -dragoons were intoxicated, and would not obey his orders, and he begged -that he might not be sacrificed, stating that in the slaughter of Lt. -Col. Buford’s command, he had used his greatest exertions, and succeeded -in saving the lives of many of the Americans. This, in some measure -mollified Lee, but just then overtaking the speechless and dying boy, -expiring in the arms of the soldiers, his bright and handsome face, -changed in the ghastly agony of death, he returned with unrelenting -sternness to his first decision and informed the Englishman that he -should execute him in the next vale through which they were to pass, and -furnishing him with a pencil and paper, desired him to make such note -as he wished to his friends, which he pledged him his word should be -sent to the British General. The ill-fated soldier proceeded to write, -when the British van approaching in sight, the prisoner was sent on -to Col. Williams in front, who, ignorant of the murder, and of Lee’s -determination to make an example of him, in his turn, forwarded him on -to head quarters—thus luckily saving his life. Eighteen of the British -dragoons fell in the charge, and were buried by Cornwallis as he came -up, but the American’s had time to do no more than lay the body of the -poor little bugler in the woods on the side of the road, trusting to -the charity of the country people to inter it, when they were obliged -to resume their retreat. It should be borne in mind that Lee’s humane -disposition could only be excited to such summary vengeance by the -cruel and unwarrantable murder that they had just witnessed, and by the -frequent acts of atrocity which had been repeatedly enacted by this same -corps. - -Perhaps the fated destiny which frequently appears to await the -soldier, hanging over him like a shield while he passes through the -most desperate danger, until the appointed hour arrives, was never -more apparent than in the case of Lt. Col. Webster, of the British army -in this same retreat. When the rear of the American army, composed as -has been observed principally by the Legion, had passed the Reedy Fork, -the British van under the command of Webster, endeavoured to ford the -river and bring them into action, a point which Cornwallis was anxious -to attain, but which was entirely foreign to the plan of Greene, whose -object was to wear out his pursuers. Under the cover of a dense fog, -the British had attained a short distance of the Legion before they -were discovered. They made their appearance on the opposite bank of the -river, and after halting a few moments, descended the hill and approached -the water, but receiving a heavy fire of musketry and rifles, they fell -back and quickly reascending, were again rallied on the margin of the -bank. Col. Webster rode up, calling upon the soldiers in a loud voice -to follow, and rushing down the hill, at their head, amid a galling -fire poured from the Legion troops, he plunged into the water. In the -woods occupied by the riflemen, was an old log schoolhouse, a little -to the right of the ford. The mud stuffed between the logs had mostly -fallen out, and the apertures admitted the use of rifles with ease. -In this house Lee had posted five and twenty select marksmen from the -mountain militia, with orders to forego engaging in the general action, -and directions to hold themselves in reserve for any particular object -which might present. “The attention of this party being attracted by -Webster, as he plunged into the water, they singled him out as their -mark. The stream being deep, and the bottom rugged, he advanced slowly, -the soldiers, some of them, holding on by his stirrup-leathers,—and one -by one they discharged their rifles at him, each man sure of knocking -him over, and, having re-loaded, eight or nine of them, emptied their -guns at him a second time, yet strange to relate, neither horse nor rider -received a single ball. The twenty-five marksmen were celebrated for -their superior skill, and it was a common amusement for them to place an -apple on the end of a ramrod and hold it out at arm’s length, as a mark -for their comrades to fire at, when many balls would pass through the -apple, yet the British officer, mounted on a stout horse, slowly moving -through a deep water course, was singled out and fired at thirty-two or -three times successively, and yet remained untouched, and succeeded in -effecting a lodgment on the bank, where he formed his troops under a -heavy fire.” This gallant officer, and polished gentleman, the favourite -of Cornwallis, subsequently fell at the battle of Guilford Court-House, -not more regretted by his brother soldiers, than admired by those of the -American army. - -There is nothing more true, than that in war as in love, much depends -upon accident, and an alarm is frequently conveyed and a victory won, by -circumstances entirely the act of chance. As a case in point. In the -retreat of the British after the battle of Monks’ Corner, Lt. Col. Stuart -ordered all the arms belonging to the dead and wounded to be collected, -and when the retreating enemy had marched on, they were set fire to -by the rear guard. As many of the muskets were loaded, an irregular -discharge followed, resembling the desultory fire which usually precedes -a battle. The retreating army immediately supposed, that Greene was up -and had commenced an attack on their rear—and the dismay and confusion -was so great, that the wagoners cut the traces of their horses and -galloped off, leaving the wagons on the route. The followers of the army -fled in like manner, and the terror was rapidly increasing, when the -cessation of the firing quelled the alarm. - -But the most exciting incident that our fellow voyager related, and one -which would well merit the attention of the painter, was the spirited -affair at Quinby’s Bridge. When the British army in their turn were -retreating, Sumpter, Marion and Lee frequently were able to act in -concert. The 19th British Regiment, Lt. Col. Coates, having become -isolated at Monks’ Corner, Marion and Lee determined to fall upon it, and -cut it off by surprise before it could obtain relief. The British officer -having taken the precaution to secure the bridge across the Cooper river -by a strong detachment, it became necessary for them to make a long -circuit, through the deep sands in the hottest part of the summer, before -they could form a junction with Sumpter, whose aid was required in the -intended attack. The junction was not effected until evening, and the -attack was necessarily deferred until the following morning; but about -midnight the whole sky becoming illuminated by a great conflagration, -it was evident that the enemy had taken the alarm. They had set fire to -the church to destroy the stores, and had decamped in silence. By the -neglect of the militia, who had deserted a bridge at which they were -stationed, the enemy had been able to draw off, and obtain a considerable -distance in advance, before their retreat was discovered. Lee immediately -followed on with the cavalry in pursuit of the main body, but was -unable to come up with it, until he had arrived in the neighbourhood of -Quinby’s Bridge, about eighteen miles from Monks’ Corner. Upon his first -approach, he discovered the baggage of the regiment under a rear guard -of about one hundred men, advancing along a narrow road, the margin of -which was bordered by a deep swamp on both sides. As soon as the cavalry -came in view, the British officer formed his men across the road, which -they had hardly effected, when the charge was sounded, and the Legion -cavalry rushed upon them with drawn swords at full gallop. The voice of -the British officer was distinctly heard: “Front rank,—bayonets—second -rank,—fire!”—and as no discharge immediately followed, the cavalry -officers felt extreme solicitude, lest its reservation was meant to -make it the more fatal on their near approach, for on the narrow road, -and in the close column in which they were rushing on, a well-directed -fire would have emptied half of their saddles—but happily the soldiers, -alarmed by the formidable appearance of the cavalry, threw down their -arms and supplicated for quarter, which the cavalry were most happy to -grant them. The prisoners being secured, the main body of the cavalry -pushed on under Armstrong for the bridge, which was still about three -miles in front, in the hope of cutting off the enemy before they should -succeed in reaching it. As Armstrong came in sight, he found that Coates -had passed the bridge, and that he was indolently reposing on the -opposite side of the river, awaiting his rear guard and baggage. He had, -by way of precaution, taken up the planks from the bridge, letting them -lie loosely on the sleepers, intending as soon as the rear should have -crossed, to destroy it. Seeing the enemy with the bridge thus interposed, -which he knew was contrary to the commandant’s anticipations, Armstrong -drew up, and sent back word to Lee, who was still with the prisoners, -requesting orders, never communicating the fact that the bridge was -interposed. Lee’s adjutant soon came galloping back with the laconic -answer:—“The order of the day, sir, is to fall upon the enemy, without -regard to consequences.” - -The gallant Armstrong for a moment leaned forward in his saddle, -towards the adjutant, as if thunder-struck, with this reflection on his -courage,—in the next his sword glanced like a streak of light around -his head, his noble horse leapt with a snort clear of the ground, as -the spur-rowels were buried to the gaffs in his sides, and in another -shouting in a voice of thunder—“Legion cavalry, charge!” at the head of -his section, he cleared the bridge, the horses throwing off the loose -planks in every direction, the next instant driving the soldiers headlong -from the howitzer which they had mounted at the other end to defend it, -he was cutting and slashing in the very centre of the British regiment, -which, taken completely by surprise, threw down their arms, retreating -in every direction. The horses of Armstrong’s section had thrown off the -planks as they cleared the bridge, leaving a yawning chasm, beneath which -the deep black stream was rushing turbidly onwards; but Lt. Carrington, -at the head of his section, took the leap and closed with Armstrong, -engaged in a desperate personal encounter with Lt. Col. Coates, who had -had barely time to throw himself with a few of his officers behind some -baggage-wagons, where they were parrying the sabre cuts made by the -dragoons at their heads. Most of the soldiers, alarmed at the sudden -attack, had abandoned their officers, and were running across the fields, -to shelter themselves in a neighbouring farm-house. Lee, by this time, -had himself got up to the bridge, where O’Neal, with the third section -had halted, the chasm having been so much enlarged by Carrington’s horses -throwing off additional planks, that his horses would not take the leap, -and seeing the howitzer abandoned, and the whole regiment dispersed, -except the few officers who were defending themselves with their swords, -while they called upon the flying soldiers for assistance, he proceeded -to recover and replace the planks. The river was deep in mud, and still -deeper in water, so that the dragoons could neither get a footing to -re-place the planks, nor a firm spot from which they might swim their -horses to the aid of their comrades. Seeing this posture of affairs, -some of the bravest of the British soldiers began to hurry back to the -assistance of their officers, and Armstrong and Carrington, being unable -to sustain with only one troop of dragoons, so unequal a combat, they -abandoned the contest, forcing their way down the great road, into the -woods on the margin of the stream, in the effort to rejoin the corps. -Relieved from the immediate danger, Coates hastened back to the bridge, -and opened a fire from the deserted howitzer upon Lee and the soldiers, -who were fruitlessly striving to repair the bridge, and being armed only -with their sabres, which the chasm made perfectly useless, as they could -not reach the enemy across it, they were also forced to give up the -attempt, and retire without the range of the fire from the gun. - -Marion shortly after coming up, in conjunction with Lee marched some -distance down the banks, where they were enabled to ford the stream, -and effect a passage. In the edge of the evening, they reached the -farm-house, but found that Coates had fortified himself within it, with -his howitzer, and was thus impregnable to cavalry. “While halting in -front, Armstrong and Carrington came up with their shattered sections. -Neither of the officers were hurt, but many of the bravest dragoons were -killed, and still more wounded. Some of their finest fellows—men, who -had passed through the whole war esteemed and admired, had fallen in -this honourable but unsuccessful attempt.” Being without artillery, and -within striking distance of Charleston, they were obliged, fatigued as -they were, to commence their retreat. Placing the wounded in the easiest -posture for conveyance, and laying the dead on the pommels of their -saddles, the Legion counter-marched fifteen miles; at its close, burying -in sadness and grief in one common sepulchre the bodies of those that had -fallen. - -These anecdotes of the Legion are but a few of the many stirring and -spirited narrations with which Lee whiled away the time, as we glided -along on our return up the river. His own observations and adventures -in travelling over the world were not wanting for our amusement, for, -with a mind well prepared for its enjoyment, he had passed the years -that had intervened, since I last saw him, in travelling leisurely over -Europe and the East. With the true philosophy of life, calling all men -brothers, and restrained by no narrow prejudices of country or habit, he -had entered eagerly into the manners and participated in the amusements -of those around him. First after the hounds in England, he shouted “tally -ho!” with all the enthusiasm of the veriest sportsman in the hunt; while -his voice was heard equally loud and jovial in the wild and half frantic -chorus of the drinking and smoking students of Germany. He scrupled not -to wear his beard long, and partake of the hard black loaf in the cabin -of the Russian boor, while, with equal equanimity he wore his turban, and -smoked his chiboque cross-legged in the caffarets of Turkey. He climbed -the huge pyramids, and their dark and silent chambers echoed the sounds -of his voice, as he called on Cheops, Isis and Orus; and, kneeling in the -gorgeous mosque of Omar, he worshipped the true God, while the muzzeim -from its minarets was proclaiming, that Mahomet was his prophet. He had -luxuriated amid the never-dying works of the great masters at Florence, -and, lulled by the harmonious chaunt of the gondolier, had swept over -the moonlit lagoons of Venice. He had whirled in all the gaiety of -living Paris, and measured with careful steps the silent streets of dead -Herculaneum and Pompeii. He had stood amid the awful stillness on the -glittering ice-covered summits of Mont Blanc, and looked fearlessly -down into the great roaring caverns of fire boiling in the crater of -Vesuvius—but now there was a sadness about his heart which rarely lighted -up, and, as I have observed, it was only under momentary excitement that -he blazed into brilliant entertainment. - -As the fresh breeze wafted us swiftly onwards, Venus, mid the stars -trembling in unnumbered myriads, rivalled with her silvery rays the great -round-orbed moon, sailing joyously in her career high in the heavens -above us,—and soon the bright beacon on the plantation shore, lighted for -our guidance, shone steadily over the dark water, and ere long we were -all quietly seated at the supper-table, with our beautiful hostess at its -head,—again in Tom’s cottage on the banks of the Potomac. - - NOTE.—The incidents related in the above article are derived - from “Lee’s Southern Campaigns” and “Col. Gardner’s Military - Anecdotes,” where, if he has not already perused them, the - reader will find much to interest and amuse him. - - - - -HUDSON RIVER. - - -Here we are met again, all booted and spurred, and ready for another -journey. Come, let us make the most of our time on this mundane sphere, -for verily we are but two of the automata of the great moving panorama -which is so rapidly hastening o’er its surface—two of the unnumbered -millions who, lifted from our cradles, are hurrying with like equal haste -towards the great dark curtain of the future, where, drawing its gloomy -folds aside, we shall pass behind and disappear for ever. Therefore -let us hasten; for though some of us complacently imagine that we are -bound on our own special road and chosen journey, yet, surely we are but -travelling the path which has been marked out for us by an all-seeing -Providence; and though, like soldiers, we may be marching, as we suppose, -to good billets and snug quarters, yet perhaps, before the day’s route -be closed, we shall be plunged into the centre of the battle-field, with -sad curtailment of our history. Tempus fugit! Therefore let us hasten, -for, in a few short years, some modern Hamlet o’er our tomb-stones thus -shall moralize: “Here be two fellows tucked up right cosily in their -last quarters, ‘at their heads a grass-green turf, and at their heels a -stone.’ Humph! for all their stillness, I warrant me, they’ve strutted -their mimic stage, and flaunted with the best; they’ve had their ups and -downs, their whims and fancies, their schemes and projects, their loves -and hates,—have been elated with vast imaginings, and depressed to the -very ocean’s depths; and now their little day and generation passed, -they’re settled to their rest. The school-boy astride on one’s memento, -with muddy heels kicks out his epitaph, while the other’s name is barely -visible among the thistle’s aspiring tops,—yet both alike have rendered, -with the whole human family, the same brief epitome of history. ‘They -laughed—they groaned—they wept—and here they are,’ for such are but the -features of bright, confiding youth, stern manhood’s trials, and imbecile -old age.” And this same sage Hamlet’s right; therefore, without more ado, -let us get us on our travels. - -So, here we are in the Jerseys. Now _westward_ shall lie our -course. Here come the cars. Quick—jump in—here is a good seat, -close by the old gentleman in the India-rubber cape. Ding, -ding—ding, ding. There goes the bell. Shwist, shwist. We are off. -Clank—jirk—click—click—clickety—click—click. Here we go. We fly over the -bridges, and through the tunnels; the rail fences spin by us in ribands; -the mile-stones play leap-frog; the abutments dash by us. Screech! the -cattle jump like mad out of our way. Already at Jersey City? We paddle -across. Ay, here we are, just in time, on board the “Swallow.” What a -pandemonium of racket, and noise, and confusion! Steam yelling, bells -ringing, boys and negroes bawling, porters and hackmen hurrying.—“Get out -of my way, you dirty little baboon, with your papers.”—“Thank you, madam, -no oranges.”—“All aboard.”—Tinkle, tinkle.—The walking-beam rises, the -heavy wheels splash.—We shoot out into the stream.—We make a graceful -curve, and, simultaneously with five other steamers, stretch like -race-horses up the majestic Hudson. - -How beautifully the Narrows and the Ocean open to our view, and the -noble bay, studded with its islands, and fortresses, and men-of-war, -“tall, high admirals,” with frowning batteries and chequered sides. In -what graceful amity float the nations’ emblems—the Tricolour, the Red -Cross, the Black Eagle, the Stars and Stripes. But we take the lead. Fire -up—fire up, engineer,—her namesake cuts the air not more swiftly than -our fleet boat her element. Still as a mirror lies the tranquil water. -The dark pallisades above us, with fringed and picturesque outline, are -reflected on its polished surface; and the lordly sloops, see how lazily -they roll and pitch on the long undulating swell made by our progress, -their scarlet pennons quivering on its surface as it regains its -smoothness. - -How rich and verdant extend thy shores, delightful river! Oh! kindly -spirit—Crayon, Diedrick, Irving, whate’er we call thee,—with what -delightful Indian summer of rustic story, of dreamy legend, hast thou -invested them? Lo! as we slide along, what moving panorama presents -itself? Phlegmatic Mynheers, in sleepy Elysium, evolve huge smoke-wreaths -of the fragrant weed as they watch thy placid stream. Blooming Katrinas, -budding like roses out of their boddices, coquette with adoring -Ichabods,—sturdy, broad-breeched beaux, sound “boot and saddle.” -Roaring Broms dash along on old Gun-powders. Headless horsemen thunder -onwards through Haunted hollows—heads on saddle-bow. Dancing, laughing -negroes—irate, rubicund trumpeters—huge Dutch merry-makings—groaning -feasts, and loafing, hen-pecked Rips, pass in review before us. And now, -as we open the Tappan Zee, see! see Old Hendrick,—see the old fellow in -his scarlet cloak, his gallant hanger, cocked-hat, and many-buttoned -breeches—see how the huge clouds of smoke, encircling his nose, float -upwards, as, seated on his lofty poop, he sluggishly lays his course. -See the old Dutchman—no—stop! stop!—’tis but a creature of thy fantasy, -floating in the setting sunlight. Oh! historian of Columbus, with thy -fellow-spirit, him of the “North Star,” and the “Evening Wind,” gently, -yet sorrowfully you float above the miasma clouds of gain, that in their -poisonous wreaths envelope your countrymen. In the evening twilight thy -beacon, Stony Point, throws far its streaming rays o’er the darkening -scenery, different, I ween, when mid midnight mist and stillness, mid -cannon-blaze and roar, “Mad Anthony’s” attacking columns simultaneously -struck the flag-staff in thy centre. The sparks stream rocket-like from -our chimneys, as we enter your dark embrace, ye Highlands! Hark! the roll -of the drum, as we round the bend—thy beautiful plateau, West Point, with -its gallant spirits, is above us. Success to thee, school of the brave! -Engineers for her hours of peace, soldiers in war to lead her armies, -dost thou furnish to thy country—brave, enduring men. When fell thy sons -other than in the battle’s front? when in the fiercest danger were they -found recreant? Aye, well may Echo answer “When?” - -The thunder of thy bowling balls, Old Hudson, we hear as we pass the -gorges of the Catskill. Hyde Park, thou glancest by us—the villas of the -Rensselaers and Livingstons flit ’mid their green trees,—thy cottages, -oh Kinderhook—the Overslaugh—rush by us, and now we are at Albany. -Albany, Rochester, Utica, by smoaking steam-car, we are delivered from -you. Auburn, we breathe among thy shady walks—and now, for a moment, -Buffalo, we rest with thee. All hail to thee, thou city of the Bison -Bull! Great caravansera and resting-place of coming nations! Byzantium -of the future—hail! As on a quay shall meet hereafter, through the -Lawrence and the Oregon, the hardy seamen of the Atlantic and Pacific, -the Otaheitean and the fair-haired Swede; while the bronzed trapper, the -savage Blackfoot, the greasy Esquimaux, and half-civilized voyageur, -shall mingle with astonishment and admiration on thy busy marts. Hail! -hail! to thee, thou city of the desert lord, all hail! - - - - -NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE. - -(August 14th, 1814.) - - -Hostler! bring up the horses, we will cross to the Canadian shore, and -ride leisurely o’er its battlegrounds. Tighten the girths, John. Take up -another hole. So—never mind the stirrup. Jump—I’m in my saddle. Are you -ready?—_Allons._ Well broken is that grey of yours, he has a good long -trot—how easy it makes your rise in the saddle, and how graceful is the -gait. But here we are at the Ferry. Now, we cross thy stream, Niagara! -Now, we stand on British ground! Generous and gallant blood has deeply -stained its soil! Observe these crumbling works—the old stone fort facing -the river—the remains of ramparts and trenches—here a bastion—further on, -a redoubt—there again lines and earthworks, forming a continuous circle -of defence, but all now fast sinking to their original level. These are, -or rather were, the fortress and defences of “Fort Erie.” When some -years since I rode over the ground with our kind and excellent friend, -the Major, I listened with great interest to his narration of the part -of the campaign acted upon this spot and the adjoining country. I will -repeat it to you as we ride over it. Jump your horse upon this decaying -mound—it was a bastion. - -Standing on this bastion, “Here,” said the Major, “we had thrown up our -lines, making the defences as strong as practicable. The British had -also erected formidable works about half a mile in front, (the forest -intervening,) composed of a large stone battery on their left, and two -strong redoubts, from which they kept up an incessant discharge of shot -and shells for several successive days, which was returned by us with -equal vigour. At length a shell from their batteries having fallen upon -it, blew up one of our small magazines, but with trifling injury to the -rest of the defences. They greatly miscalculated the damage, and were -elated with their success, and General Gaines received secret information -that they intended to carry the works by storm on the following night. -That night, said the Major, I shall not soon forget. It set in intensely -dark and cloudy, extremely favourable to the design of the enemy. Every -thing was put in the fullest state of preparation to receive them. The -men enthusiastically awaiting the attack, were ordered to lie on their -arms. Extended along the lines, and manning the fort and bastion, our -little army, in perfect silence, awaited their coming. - -The forest had been cleared about three hundred yards in front of -our works—beyond that were, as you see, the woods. As the night -wore on, we listened with earnestness to every sound. A little -after midnight, we heard on the dry leaves the stealthy sound of -footsteps—pat—patter—patter. We listened—they came nearer. A short, -sharp challenge: “Who goes there?” issued from that farther redoubt. The -footsteps ceased, as if irresolute to advance or recede, and all was -still. Another quick challenge—a rattle of the musket, as it fell into -the hollow of the hand,—followed the reply:—“Picquet guard, forced in -by the enemy’s advance”—“Back, guard! back to your posts instantly, or -we will fire upon you,” rung the stern voice of our commanding officer. -The footsteps of the stragglers slowly receded, and entire stillness -again obtained. It was as profound as the darkness, not even the hum -of an insect rose upon the ear. We laid our heads upon the ramparts, -and listened with all our faculties. We listened. Perhaps half an hour -elapsed, when we imagined we heard the dead, heavy sound of a large -body of men—tramp—tramp—tramp—advancing through the pitchy darkness. A -few moments passed—a brisk scattering fire, and the picquets came in -in beautiful order, under the brave subaltern in command. The measured -tread of disciplined troops became apparent. Every sense was stretched -to the utmost in expectancy—every eye endeavoured to fathom the darkness -in front, when, from Towson’s battery, that towards the river, glanced -a volley of musquetry, and in another instant, the whole line of the -works, bastion, redoubt, and rampart, streamed forth one living sheet -of flame. Two eighteens, mounted where we stand, were filled to the -muzzle with grape, cannister, and bags of musket-bullets—imagine their -havoc. The enemy came on with loud shouts and undaunted bravery. By the -continued glare of our discharges, we could see dense dark masses of men, -moving in columns to three separate points of attack upon our works. -Our artillery and musketry poured on them as they advanced a continual -stream of fire, rolling and glancing from angles, bastions, and redoubts. -Repulsed—they were re-formed by their officers, and brought again to the -charge, to be again repulsed. At such times, hours fly like minutes. A -life appears concentrated to a moment. We had been engaged perhaps an -hour—perhaps three, when I heard in that bastion of the Fort, a hundred -feet from me, above the uproar, a quick, furious struggle, as if of men -engaged in fierce death-fight; a clashing of bayonets, and sharp pistol -shots, mixed with heavy blows, and short quick breathing, such as you may -have heard men make in violent exertion—in cutting wood with axes, or -other severe manual labour. The conflict, though fierce, was short—the -assailants were repelled. Those that gained a footing were bayonetted, or -thrown back over the parapet. In a few moments, I heard again the same -fierce struggle, and again followed the like result and stillness—if -stillness could be said to exist under continual roar of musketry and -artillery. A third time it rose, sudden and desperate; it ceased, and -presently a clear loud voice rose high above the battle from the bastion: -“Stop firing in front there, you are firing on your friends.” An instant -cessation followed. We were deceived. In another moment, the voice of -an officer with startling energy replied: “Aye, aye, we’ll stop: give -it them, men, give it them!”—and the firing, renewed, was continued -with redoubled fury. The head of the centre column, composed of eight -hundred picked men, the veterans of Egypt, led by Lieut. Col. Drummond -in person, after three several assaults, had gained possession of the -bastion, and by that ruse, endeavoured to cause a cessation of the fire—a -result that might have been fatal to us, had not the deception been so -soon discerned. But the prize was of little value, as the bastion was -commanded by the interior of the works, and the men, under cover of the -walls of an adjoining barrack, poured into the gorge that led from it, -a continued storm of musketry. The firing continued with unabated fury. -The enemy, repulsed with great loss in every attack, was unsuccessful -on every point save that bastion, the possession of which they still -retained—when I heard a groaning roll and shake of the earth, and -instantly the bastion, bodies of men, timber, guns, earth and stones, -were blown up in the air like a volcano, making every thing in the glare -as clear as noon-day. A descending timber dashed one of my artillerymen -to pieces within a foot of my shoulder. Profound darkness and silence -followed. Naught but the groans of the wounded and dying were heard. -As if by mutual consent, the fighting ceased, and the enemy withdrew, -repulsed on every side, save from the parapet which they purchased for -their grave. A large quantity of fixed ammunition had been placed in -the lower part, and a stray wad falling upon it, had blown them all up -together. My duty required that I should immediately repair the bastion, -and most horrible was the sight—bodies burnt and mutilated—some of them -still pulsating with life, among them Lieut. Colonel Drummond, the leader -of the attack. There he lay in the morning light, stark and stiff, -extended on the rampart, a ball having passed through his breast. History -mourns, that his courage assumed the character of ferocity. His war-cry -of “No quarter to the damned Yankees,” his own death-warrant, was long -remembered against his countrymen. The enemy did not resume the attack, -but retiring to their entrenched camp, strengthened their works, and -prepared to make their approach by regular advances. - -But come, spur on, we have far to ride—spur on. Here we are upon their -works. Here is the stone water-battery, and there the two strong -redoubts, and back of them the remains of their lines, and deep -entrenchments. These are the works which were carried in the memorable -and desperate sortie of Fort Erie. The right by Davis and Miller; the -left by Porter and his volunteers. Here, on the left, quoth the Major, -fell my gallant, my accomplished friend, Lieut. Col. Wood, at the head of -his column. He was one of the most brilliant officers in the service, and -as beautiful as a girl. I often gazed with astonishment at the desperate -daring that characterised him in action; here he fell; he was bayonetted -to death on the ground, on this spot“—and the Major’s voice quivered, -and he turned his face from me, for the cruel death of his dear friend -was too much for his manhood. His ashes sleep amid the Highlands of the -Hudson, beneath their monument, near the flag-staff at West Point. Peace -to his gallant spirit! The stars of his country can wave over no braver -of her sons. - - - - -BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE. - - -We cross thy tranquil plains, Oh! Chippewa. -Scott—Ripley—Towson—Hindman—brave soldiers; long will this battle-ground -your names remember. And thou too, Riall! brave Englishman, foeman wert -thou worthy of warriors’ steel. But far different music has resounded -through these continuous woods than the wild bird’s carol, the hum of -insects, and the waving of the breeze that now so gently greets our -ear. Ay! yonder it is—yonder is the white house. There, said the Major, -as General Scott, making a forward movement with his brigade in the -afternoon of the 25th of July, 1814, came in view of it, we saw the -court-yard filled with British officers, their horses held by orderlies -and servants in attendance. As soon as we became visible to them, -their bugles sounded to saddle, and in a few moments they were mounted -and soon disappeared through the woods at full gallop, twenty bugles -ringing the alarm from different parts of the forest. All vanished as -if swallowed by the earth, save an elegant veteran officer, who reined -up just out of musket shot, and took a leisurely survey of our numbers. -Having apparently satisfied himself of our force, he raised the plumed -hat from his head, and bowing gracefully to our cortege, put spurs to -his horse and disappeared with the rest. From the occupant of the house -we gathered that we were about a mile distant from a strong body of the -enemy, posted in the rising ground just beyond the woods in our front. -General Scott, turning to one of his escort, said, “Be kind enough, sir, -to return to Major General Brown; inform him that I have fallen in with -the enemy’s advance, posted in force at ‘_Lundy’s Lane_,’ and that in one -half hour, I shall have joined battle.” “Order up Ripley with the second -brigade,—direct Porter to get his volunteers immediately under arms,” -was the brief reply of Major General Brown to my message, and the aids -were instantly in their saddles, conveying the orders. As I galloped back -through the woods, continued the Major, the cannon shot screaming by me, -tearing the trees and sending the rail fences in the air in their course, -warned me that the contest had begun.—But we are on the battle-ground. -There, said the Major, upon the verge of that sloping hill, parallel with -the road, and through the grave-yard towards the Niagara, was drawn up -the British line under General Riall, in force three times greater than -our brigade—his right covered with a powerful battery of nine pieces of -artillery, two of them brass twenty-fours. - -The _Eleventh_ and _Twenty-second_ regiments first leaving the wood, -deployed upon the open ground with the coolness and regularity of a -review,—and were soon engaged furiously in action; the fire from the -enemy’s line and from the batteries, which completely commanded the -position, opening upon them with tremendous effect. Towson, having -hurried up with his guns on the left, in vain endeavoured to attain -sufficient elevation to return the fire of their battery. The destruction -on our side was very great;—the two regiments fought with consummate -bravery. They were severely cut up, their ammunition became exhausted, -and their officers nearly all of them having been killed and wounded, -they were withdrawn from action,—the few officers remaining unhurt -throwing themselves into the _Ninth_, which now came into action, led by -the gallant Colonel Leavenworth. - -The brunt of the battle now came upon them, and they alone sustained it -for some time, fighting with unflinching bravery, until their numbers -were reduced to one-half by the fire of the enemy. At this juncture, -General Scott galloped up with the intention of charging up the hill; -but finding them so much weakened, altered his intention, entreating -them to hold their ground until the reinforcements, which were hastening -up, should come to their assistance. A momentary cessation of the -action ensued, while additional forces hurried up to the aid of each -army—Ripley’s brigade, Hindman’s artillery, and Porter’s volunteers, -on the part of the Americans, and a strong reinforcement under General -Drummond on that of the British. Hindman’s artillery were attached -to that of Towson, and soon made themselves heard. Porter’s brigade -displayed on the left, while Ripley formed on the skirts of the wood -to the right of Scott’s brigade. The engagement was soon renewed, with -augmented vigour; General Drummond taking command in person, with his -fresh troops in the front line of the enemy. Colonel Jesup, who had at -the commencement of the action been posted on the right, succeeded, after -a gallant contest, in turning the left flank of the enemy, and came in -upon his reserve, “burdened with prisoners, making himself visible to his -own army, amid the darkness, in a blaze of fire,” completely destroying -all before him. The fight raged for some time with great fury, but it -became apparent, uselessly to the Americans, if the enemy retained -possession of the battery, manifestly the key of the position. - -I was standing at the side of Colonel Miller, said the Major, when -General Brown rode up and inquired, whether he could storm the battery -with his regiment, while General Ripley supported him with the younger -regiment, the _Twenty-third_. Miller, amid the uproar and confusion, -deliberately surveyed the position, then quietly turning with infinite -coolness replied, “_I’ll try, sir._” I think I see him now, said the -Major, as drawing up his gigantic figure to its full height, he turned to -his regiment, drilled to the precision of a piece of mechanism, I hear -his deep lion tones—“_Twenty-first_—attention!—form into column. You -will advance up the hill to the storm of the battery—at the word ‘halt,’ -you will deliver your fire at the port-lights of the artillerymen, -and immediately carry the guns at the point of the bayonet.—Support -arms—double quick—march!” Machinery could not have moved with more -compactness than that gallant regiment followed the fearless stride -of its leader. Supported by the _Twenty-third_, the dark mass moved -up the hill like one body,—the lurid light glittering and flickering -on their bayonets, as the combined fire of the enemy’s artillery and -infantry opened murderously upon them. They flinched not—they faltered -not—the stern deep voices of the officers, as the deadly cannon-shot -cut yawning chasms through them, alone was heard. “Close up—steady, -men—steady.” Within a hundred yards of the summit, the loud “Halt” -was followed by a volley—sharp, instantaneous, as a clap of thunder. -Another moment, rushing under the white smoke, a short furious struggle -with the bayonet, and the artillerymen were swept like chaff from their -guns. Another fierce struggle—the enemy’s line was forced down the side -of the hill, and the victory was ours—the position entirely in our -hands—their own pieces turned and playing upon them in their retreat. -It was bought at cruel price—most of the officers being either killed -or wounded. The whole tide of the battle now turned to this point. -The result of the conflict depended entirely upon the ability of the -victorious party to retain it. Major Hindman was ordered up, and posted -his forces at the side of the captured cannon, while the American line -correspondingly advanced. Stung with mortification, the brave General -Drummond concentrated his forces, to retake by a desperate charge the -position. The interval amid the darkness was alone filled by the roar of -the cataracts, and the groans of the wounded. He advanced with strong -reinforcements, outflanking each side of the American line. We were -only able, in the murky darkness, to ascertain their approach by their -heavy tread. “They halted within twenty paces—poured in a rapid fire and -prepared for the rush.” Directed by the blaze, our men returned it with -deadly effect, and after a desperate struggle, the dense column recoiled. -Another interval of darkness and silence, and again a most furious and -desperate charge was made by the British, throwing the whole weight of -their attack upon the American centre. The gallant _Twenty-first_, which -composed it, receiving them with undaunted firmness—while the fire from -our lines was “dreadfully effective,” Hindman’s artillery served with -the most perfect coolness and effect. Staggering, they again recoiled. -During this second attack, General Scott in person, his shattered brigade -now consolidated into a single battalion, made two determined charges -upon the right and left flank of the enemy, and in these he received the -scars which his countrymen now see upon his manly front. Our men were -now almost worn down with fatigue, dying with thirst, for which they -could gain no relief. The British, with fresh reinforcements—their men -recruited and rested—after the interval of another hour, made their third -and final effort to regain the position. They advanced—delivered their -fire as before—and although it was returned with the same deadly effect, -they steadily pressed forward. The _Twenty-first_ again sustained the -shock, and both lines were soon engaged in a “conflict, obstinate and -dreadful beyond description.” The right and left of the American line -fell back for a moment, but were immediately rallied by their officers. -“So desperate did the battle now become, that many battalions on both -sides were forced back,” the men engaged in indiscriminate melée, fought -hand to hand, and with muskets clubbed; and “so terrific was the conflict -where the cannon were stationed, that Major Hindman had to engage them -over his guns and gun-carriages, and finally to spike two of his pieces, -under the apprehension that they would fall into the hands of the enemy.” -General Ripley at length made a most desperate and determined charge upon -both of the enemy’s flanks—they wavered—recoiled—gave way—and the centre -soon following, they relinquished the fight and made a final retreat. -The annals of warfare on this continent have never shown more desperate -fighting. Bayonets were repeatedly crossed, and after the action, many -of the men were found mutually transfixed. The British force engaged -was about five thousand men;—the American thirty-five hundred: the -combined loss in killed and wounded, seventeen hundred and twenty-two, -officers and men. The battle commenced at half-past four o’clock in the -afternoon, and did not terminate till midnight. We were so mingled, said -the Major, and so great the confusion in the darkness, that as I was -sitting with a group of officers in the earlier part of the night, on -horseback, a British soldier came up to us, and recovering his musket, -under the supposition that he was addressing one of his own officers, -said, “Colonel Gordon will be much obliged, sir, if you will march up -the three hundred men in the road to his assistance immediately, as he -is very hard pressed.” I called him nearer, and pressing his musket down -over my holsters, made him prisoner. “What have I done, sir,” said the -astonished man, “what have I done?” and to convince British officers, as -he supposed, of his loyalty, exclaimed, “Hurrah for the King, and damn -the Yankees.” As he was marched to the rear, the poor fellow was cut down -by a grape shot. In another part of the field, an American aid pulled -up suddenly on a body of men under full march. In reply to his demand, -“What regiment is that?” he was answered, “The Royal Scots.” With great -presence of mind, he replied, “Halt! Royal Scots’, till further orders,” -and then turning his horse’s head, galloped from their dangerous -proximity. It was a horrid conflict. Humanity sighs over the slaughter of -the brave men that fell in it. - -But here we are, at the grave-yard, with its drooping willows and -flowering locusts. Still—still—and quiet now. No armed men disturb -its calmness and repose—no ponderous artillery wheels rudely cut -its consecrated mounds—no ruffian jest—no savage execration—no moan -of anguish, break now upon its hallowed silence. The long grass and -blossoming heather waive green alike over the graves of friend and enemy. -The marble tells the story of the few—the many, their very parents know -not their resting place. See this broken wooden slab—it has rotted off -even with the ground, and lies face downwards, the earthworm burrowing -under it, in this neglected corner. Pull the grass aside; turn it over -with your foot. What, the nearly effaced inscription? - - “Sacred - TO THE MEMORY OF - CAPT’N —— BROWN, - OF THE - 21st Regiment - WHO DIED OF WOUNDS RECEIVED IN ACTION, - WITH THE ENEMY, ON THE - 25TH OF JULY, 1814.” - -And this is honour! This is fame! Why, brave man! e’en now, I read -the tribute to thy bravery in the bulletin of the action. Thou had’st -comrades—father, mother, sisters—to mourn thy loss—and _now_, the -stranger’s foot carelessly spurns thy frail memento; nor father, mother, -sisters, nor human hand can point to the spot where rest thy ashes. Peace -to thy manes! brave countrymen, where’er they sleep. - -See from this point how gently and gracefully undulates the battle-field; -the woods bowing to the evening breeze, as the soft sunlight pours -through their branches show not the gashes of rude cannon shot—the -plain, loaded and bending with the yellow harvest, betrays no human -gore—yon hill scathed, scorched and blackened with cannon flame, the very -resting place of the deadly battery, shows no relic of the fierce death -struggle, as covered with the fragrant clover and wild blue-bell, the bee -in monotonous hum banquets o’er it. Nought mars the serenity of nature -as she smiles upon us. Yet, burnt in common funeral pyre, the ashes of -those brave men, of friend and foe, there mingle in the bosom whence they -issued. The frenzied passion passed, the furious conflict o’er, they -have lain down in quiet, and like young children, sleep gently, sweetly, -in the lap of that common mother who shelters with like protection the -little field mouse from its gambols, and the turbaned Sultan sinking amid -his prostrate millions. Shades of my gallant countrymen! Shades of their -daring foes—farewell. Ne’er had warriors more glorious death-couch,—the -eternal Cataracts roar your requiem. - - The reader’s attention is requested to the more detailed - account of this action in the Appendix. The inscription on the - tablet is given from recollection, and it is possible that the - number of the Regiment may not be the one to which this officer - belonged. - - - - -LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA. - - -The Sun of Morning hurls himself in blazing splendour o’er thy crystal -waters, beautiful Horicon, as we float upon thy placid bosom, not -as of yore, in feathery canoe, but in gaily-coloured bark, drawn by -Steam Spirit, as he vainly strives to break his fiery prison. See, how -he puffs and pants in the fierce embrace of the glowing element; in -furious efforts dragging us onward with frantic swiftness, e’en as the -frightened steed, the vehicle wildly bounding after him. As the valve -of safety opens, hear the shriek of mad delight, with which exultingly -he proclaims his freedom;—now, the iron portal closed, how like Sampson -in the Prison Mill, struggling, giant-like, he again applies him to his -toil. Imprisoned Spirit! there is no help for thee. Sweat thou must, and -pant, and groan, till, like thy fellow-labourer, man, released from fire -fetter, as he of earth, resolved to pure ether, thou shalt float again -free and delighted in the clear elements above! - -Ho! brother spirit, tarry, tarry—wait thou a little ’till I join -thee,—then, how gallantly we’ll ride! Couched on summer clouds, lazily -we’ll float: or, glancing on sun rays, shoot swift as thought, ’mid the -bright worlds rolling in sublimity above us. We’ll bathe in the Moon’s -cold splendour, fan in the sultry heat of crimson Mars, slide upon -Saturn’s eternal snows, or joyously gambolling along the Milky Way, we’ll -chase the starry Serpent to his den. Ho! brother spirit;—but, we must -bide our time—madly now in wild career, thou sweep’st the placid lake -from under us. - -But whom have we here? A sturdy hunter in homespun clad, with his long -rifle—his broad-chested hounds in quiet, sleeping at his feet; our -fellow-passenger, ’till landed on some mountain side, he follows his -sylvan war. Clear animal health and vigour shine from each lineament—with -what open, unsuspicious manhood—what boundless freedom he comports -himself. Ha! what is it, hound? What is it? Why dost shake thy pendant -ears and gaze so keenly in the distance—and why that plaintive howl? Ay, -ay, hunter, thy practised eye hath caught it. On yon wooded island to the -windward—a noble buck with graceful form and branching antlers. He sees -us not, but the dog’s quick senses have caught his scent upon the passing -wind. Still, boy, still! Pilot, put her a little more under the island. -Hunter, lend me thy rifle—launch the canoe. Come, hunter—peace—peace—keep -the dogs on board; paddle for yonder point—now we shoot upon the pebbly -beach—now make her fast to this dead log. We’ll steal gently through -the woods and come upon him unawares. Softly—press those vines away; -whist—avoid the rustling of the branches; here, creep through these -bushes—tread lightly on the fallen leaves—you’ll mire upon that swampy -bottom. Hush—hush—tread softly—that crackling branch! He lifts his -head—he looks uneasily about him—stand quiet. Now he browses again; get -a little nearer—we are within distance. I’ll try him—click. Back go the -antlers—the cocking of the rifle has alarmed him—he’s off! Here goes, hit -or miss—crack—he jumps ten feet in the air. I’ve missed him—he bounds -onward—no—yes—by Jove! he’s down—he’s up again—he plunges forward—he -falls again—he rises—falls—he struggles to his knees—he——falls. Hurrah! -he’s ours—quick—quick—thy _couteau de chasse_, we’ll make sure of him. -Stop—stop. Poor deer! and _I_ have murdered thee, for my _sport_ have -murdered thee—have taken from thee the precious boon of life—with cruelty -have broken the silver chord, which the beggar’s blunt knife can sever, -but not the jewelled fingers of the monarch again rejoin. There—there, -thou liest, true to the Great Master’s picture— - - “The big round tears course down thy innocent nose in piteous chase, - And thy smooth leathern sides pant almost to bursting.” - -Thy life blood flows apace—e’en now thy large soft eye dims in the sleep -of death—and _I_ have slain thee. Thou had’st nought other enemy than the -gaunt coward wolf, or fanged serpent; him, with light leaping bounds, -thou laugh’st to scorn, as his long howl struck on thy quick ear; and the -sullen rattler, with many blows of thy tiny polished hoof thou dash’st -to pieces, ere from his deadly coil, his flattened head, with glistening -tongue and protruded fangs, could reach thee. Oh! I shame me of my -miscreant fellowship. E’en the poisonous serpent, with quick vibrating -tail, did give thee warning—_I_ stole upon thee unawares. Hunter! take -again thy weapon; for thee—’tis thy vocation—perhaps ’tis well—the game -is thine. I entreat of thee, let not my innocent victim again reproach -my eyesight. So! here is the canoe—we again embark—we rock against the -steamer’s side—and now again rush onward in our swift career. Islands -glide by us in countless numbers. The frightened trout scales in quick -alarm from the splashing waterwheels, while echo, mocking their watery -clamour, wakes the old mountains from their sleepy stillness, who again, -like drowsy giants, relapse into repose as we leave them far behind us. - -_Ticonderoga_, we approach thy shore. Ay—true to appointment—here are -the horses. Mount—on we go, over hillock and valley, through brake, -through brier, through mud, through water, through swamp, through mire; -we gallop over the broad green peninsula—leap the entrenchments—thread -the lines. Here is the citadel—descend the moat; the wild dank weeds -and furze o’ertop our heads. Ay—here’s a chasm—a breach in the ancient -walls; spur up—spur up; now we draw rein within the very centre of -the blackened ruins. How lovely the view, from the soft undulating -promontory—the lake bathing its sides; Horicon’s mountains o’erlooking -it on this—the stalwart yeomen of the verdant State, free as the winds, -on that! Oh! Ticonderoga, midst these uncultivated wilds—these silent -mountains—various and eventful hath been thy history. - -Ho! Old Time—how calmly strok’st thou thy long greybeard, as seated on -the broken ruins, thou ponderest their past! Come! come, old father! -ascend this crumbling battlement—lean on my shoulder—I, _as yet_, am -straightest—I will hold thy scythe. Now point to me the drama which past -generations have acted upon this green peninsula. - -What do I see? I see the savage life—the light canoe floating on the blue -lake—painted warriors spearing the salmon, chasing the deer upon the -plain, dragging the surly bear in triumph,—I see the swift paddle chase—I -hear the laugh of children—the voice of patient squaws—the distant -yell as rounding the point, the returning braves bemoan the dead left -on the war-path, and as the shades of evening close, the sun in golden -radiance retiring o’er the mountains, I see them congregate in wigwams -in the cove.—The blue smoke rises gently o’er the tree tops, and all is -still—quiet and serenity obtain—the whip-poor-will, and cricket, amid the -drowsy hum of insect life, keep melancholy cadence. - -“Stranger! venture not near them—the peace is treacherous. No civilized -challenge shall give thee warning, but the cruel war-shriek wildly ring -o’er the insensate brain as the light tomahawk trembles in thy cloven -skull.” - -Wild mist rolls onward—I hear sounds of distant music—the mellow horn—the -clashing cymbals break from its midst. Ah! it rises. A gallant army, in -proud array, with flags and banners—bright glittering arms, and ponderous -artillery. With alacrity they effect their landing. They fraternise with -the red-skinned warriors. Their military lines run round like magic. I -feel, e’en where we stand, huge walls, grim towers rise, and bastions -springing up around us—the spotless drapeau blanc, high o’er our heads, -floats in the breeze—wild chansons of love, of war, of la belle France, -mix with mirth and revelry. - -“Stranger, ’tis the quick ‘_Qui Vive_’ that doth arrest thy footstep.” - -Ay—now, Old Time, the mystic curtain again rolls upwards. What do I -see?—Red-coated soldiers advancing in proud battalia through the forest -glades, the sunbeams dancing on their bayonets. I hear the sound of -bugles—the clamorous roll of drums, the groaning jar and creak of -heavy-wheeled artillery. Spread along the lines, covered with sharp -abattis and water moat, I see the impatient Gaul, with savage ally in -ambushment, await their coming—they advance with desperate valour,—they -ford the ditch, they hew the sharpened trees with axes. In vain—the -balls like hail, from unseen foes murderously destroy them—their leader -falls—hark! the bugle with melancholy wail sounds their retreat. - -Again, Old Time, an interval—again red-coated soldiers! again groaning -artillery! Look up!—the drapeau blanc has vanished—the meteor flag -streams proudly from the flag-staff. - -“Stranger, ’tis the Anglo-Saxon’s rough challenge that gruffly breaks -upon thy ear.” - -Long peace and silence—Old Father, now obtain—the sentry sleeps upon his -post—women and children play upon the ramparts—but, hark! what is it -far in the distance that I hear! the sound of battle! the fusilade of -musketry—the roar of cannon! I see Bunker’s Hill from light barricade -sweep down her thousands—I see hurrying forward the hardy husbandman with -hastily caught musket—the robed divine—the youth—the old man—cheered on -by mothers—sisters—tender wives,—to strike - - “For their altars and their fires, - God, and their native homes.” - -I see new Nation’s symbol—Stars and Stripes—and watch, now in the -midnight darkness through the fortress moat—how advance that fearless -band of men—Lo! in silence they penetrate the fortress’ centre. Hark! -what voice rouses the astonished officer, as starting from his slumbers, -he meets, close at his throat, the bayonet’s threatening point. -“Surrender!” “To whom?” “The Great Jehovah, and the Continental Congress!” - -Now floats the spangled banner proudly o’er the citadel—patriotic men -assemble—armies make temporary resting place—invalid soldiers breathe the -health-restoring air, and age wears on. Ha!—was that a meteor flashing -from Defiance Mountain summit? And there, another?—Plunge! plunge! Cannon -shot! screaming, yelling, bounding i’ th’ very centre of the fortress. - -“’Tis the Englishman with his artillery.” - -Quick, quick!—St. Clair, withdraw the army—the position is no longer -tenable. Strike not that flag!—palsied be the hand that so degrades -the flag of Freedom—let it shake defiance to the last! Quick, the -magazine—the train—Ha, hah! Ætna, Vesuvius like, the explosion. - -Hallo! Old Time!—Ho! thou of the scythe!—What! hast gone? Am I!—ay, I am -alone! Nought but the blackened ruins, and the crumbling ramparts, in -silence surrounding me. - - - - -MONTREAL. - - -Now, in steam palace, we shoot in swift career o’er thy tranquil surface, -Lake Champlain—thy rolling mountains, in wavy outline, accompanying us in -our rapid progress. Vast primeval forests sleep in stillness along thy -borders—their sylvan patriarchs, reigning for centuries, untouched by -woodman’s axe, stretch proudly their far-reaching branches, ’till ancient -Time, pointing with extended finger the wild spirit of the winds breathes -on them as he passes, and they succumb with sullen uproar, long with mock -semblance retaining form and length, as if deriding the puny offspring -shooting up around them; bestowing sore fall, I ween, and tumble on -adventurous hunter, as stumbling through the undergrowth he plunges -prostrate o’er them. - -Forests immense cover the mountains, the gorges, valleys, reigning in -stern solitude and silence, save where the fierce fire-god, serpent-like, -pursues his flaming journey. There, followed by wreathing smoke columns, -forward he leaps, with fiery tongue licking up acres—while the waterpools -hissing in mist, join in his escort, and the wild game, with frantic -swiftness, strive to escape the hot destruction of his embraces. With -steady, noiseless progress, the white villages appear and disappear -beside us. Rouse’s skeleton Tower looms largely in the distance;—now ’tis -passed. - -Thy military works, and crimson flag, Isle Aux Noix,—town of St. Johns, -Richelieu, La Prairie,—we pass ye all; and advancing in soft summer -atmosphere, Chambly, we behold thy mountain ramparts filling the -far distance. St. Lawrence, majestic river, stretched like sheet of -polished steel, as far as eye can reach, we stand upon thy level shores. -Rapid—wide, rushing expanse of waters, with what glorious brightness -thou look’st upon thy verdant shores, covered with continuous lines of -snow-white cottages, and listenest to the soft music of the religious -bells of the kind-hearted, cheerful habitans—as, with rude painted -cross upon their door posts, they scare away the fiend, and joyously -intercommune, in honest simple neighbourhood. La Chine—we speed o’er thy -surface, with race-horse swiftness, and now _Montreal_,—beautiful—most -beautiful,—couched at the foot of emerald mountain, liest thou upon the -river’s margin, thy spires, roofs, cupolas, glittering in the sunbeams -with silver radiance, and thy grand cathedral chimes floating onwards -till lost in dreamy distance. We land upon thy granite quay—measure -the extended esplanade—now climb thy narrow streets and alleys. Almost -we think we tread one of thy antique cities, ancient France,—alleys -narrow, dark and gloomy courts, grim inhospitable walls,—in place -of airy casement, gratings and chained iron portals,—military -barracks,—nunneries,—prisons,—fantastic churches, and Notre Dame’s -cloud-piercing towers, in huge architectural pile, looming high above -all. Noisy, chattering habitans, in variegated waist-belts, and -clattering sabots, rotund dark-robed priests, lank voyageurs—red-coated -soldiers, and haughty officers,—jostle each other on the narrow -trottoir—but, mark! the sullen, down-cast Indian, in blanket robed, with -gaudy feathers and shining ornaments, his patient squaw, straight as an -arrow, her piercing-eyed papoose clinging to her shoulders, silently -following him, in noiseless moccasins, moves along the _kennel_. Verily, -poor forest child, it hath been written, and Moslem-like, thou to thy -destiny must bow—the fire-water and the Christian will it—fold thee -closer in thy blanket robe, and—die. See yon Indian girl, standing at -the corner—with what classic grace the blue fold drapery thrown o’er her -head, descends her shoulders, as, fawn-like, she stands, avoiding the -rude passer’s stare. - -Hardy ponies, in light calash, dash through the narrow streets, of -passengers’ safety regardless; or, tugging at great trucks, strive, -in renewed exertion, to vociferous cries and exclamations of the -volatile Canadian. How well these Englishmen sit their horses. See that -gentleman—with what delicate hand he reins the fiery blood that treads -as if on feathers beneath him—and how picturesque appear, amid the motley -throng, these red-coated soldiers. - -Picturesque! I like them not—they indicate a subjugated people. -Come! here stands one at the Champ de Mars—how martially he deports -himself—his exactly poised musket, and his brazen ornaments—how bright! -Inscribed upon his gorget are the actions which have signalized -his regiment,—“Badajos”—“Salamanca”—“Vittoria”—“Waterloo.” We will -address him. Soldier, your regiment was at Salamanca,—“_S-i-r_.” By -the inscription on your gorget, your regiment distinguished itself at -Salamanca—“scaled the imminent deadly breach” at “Badajos”—stood the -Cuirassiers wild charge amid the sulphurous smoke at Waterloo?—“Don’t -know, indeed, s-i-r.” And is this the gallant soldier! Why, for years, -under the menace of thy sergeant, thou hast scoured that gorget to -regulation brightness—for years hast marched under thy regimental colours -emblazoned with those characters, and still in ignorance, need’st a -Champoillion to decipher them. ’Tis well. Thou art the machine, indeed, -that they require.—Verily, thy daily wage of sixpence, and thy ration, -are full compensation for thy service. - -Listen! The masses hurrying forward in the western hemisphere—whether -to happiness and equality,—or furious license and bloody anarchy—with -joyous shouts, and cries of freedom, arouse the echo. Dost hear above -hoarse cries of “bread,” and mob hurrah’s—confused sounds—low muttering -thunder—the rend and clank of chains that o’er the broad Atlantic roll -from old Europe? ’Tis the chariot wheels of Liberty, as charging onwards -she sweeps away rust-covered chains, and feudal bands, like maze of -cobwebs, from her path. Hear! The Nations cry for Constitutions—the -monarchs hurrying with ghastly smiles _grant_ their request—the people -would _take_ them else. Therefore prepare thee, for wilt thou or thy -rulers—the time surely approaches. Expand thy mind—cultivate thy -intelligence—study thy God—so that when the hour arrives, in the first -wild bounds of freedom, as the desert steed thou dash not thyself to -pieces; nor, like the frantic Gaul, bursting from imprisonment of ages, -gore thyself with thine own broken fetters, rushing on to deeds of blood -and frenzy that cause humanity to shudder. Ponder it, soldier! fare thee -well. - - - - -THE NUN. - - -Now as we pass, look up! How minute appears the colossal statue of -Our Lady in its niche on the vast front of the cathedral. And the -nunneries—self-constituted prisons for those whom God hath born to -freedom—how like birds of evil omen they do congregate. Here is that -of the Grey Order. Ring at the gateway—we will enter. Here we pass the -court-yard; how still, how gloomy, and how prison-like! This is their -hospital. Piteous collection! The blind, the halt, the maimed, the -hideously deformed—consumption—palsy—the wrecks of fevers! See! with what -continued torture that wretched being writhes in her fixed position. Oh! -this is the small spark of good amid the black brands of evil. These -orphan children are kindly cared for, but where the child-like joy and -mirthful freedom! With what stealthy step the officials move about their -duties along the silent corridors! and,—aye! here is the chapel, with -its gilded altars, its ornaments, its embroideries, its bleeding hearts, -its sacred symbols. See with what gentleness the “_Lady_” performs the -servile duties of the sanctuary! with what humility she bends before -the altar. Oh! how beautiful that cheek of tint of Indian shell; those -dark romantic eyes, with their long pensile lashes; that nose of Grecian -outline; the small vermilion mouth; the throat and neck of snow, and the -glossy raven tresses escaping in rich luxuriance from the plaited coif -as they fall upon her sloping shoulders. Mournful seems her devotion—now -rising she stands before the Mater Dolorosa; now wistfully gazes down -the dark long corridor, in sorrowful meditation. Hush! be silent. I will -steal gently near her. Lady! Turn not—’tis thy kind spirit whispers—art -thou content? Does thy young active soul find employ congenial in these -gloomy mysteries? Does thy springing, youthful heart, sympathize in these -cold formalities—this company of grim-visaged saints and bearded martyrs -with joy enchain thee? Does the passionate imagination and deep feeling -flashing in those dark eyes—the already hectic kindling of that cheek, -look with pleasure to long years—a life of cold monotonous routine—of -nightly vigils—fastings—of painful mortifications? Lady! listen. They -chain thy soul. Break thou away. Quick in thy youth, fly from them, -fly. One moment. Speak not. See’st thou yon cottage peering from its -green shades and gravelled walks—its parterres of the myrtle and the -lily, its diamond lattice enwreathed and almost hidden in the embrace of -sweet-smelling honeysuckles and clustering roses—and its interior with -its simple yet delicate refinements? See’st thou in snowy dishabille -the lovely woman? with what heart-felt glee the frolicking, half-naked -child, with chubby arms, almost suffocates in its little embrace her -neck, its golden ringlets mingling like streams of light ’mid her dark -tresses,—with what ecstasy she enfolds him in her embraces, with maternal -lips pressing in exquisite delight the plump alabaster shoulders? Lady, -such scenes, not gloomy walls, invite thee—nay ’tis not the voice of -the Tempter—’tis not, as they will tell thee, the poisonous breath of -the many-coloured serpent stealing o’er thy senses. Let bearded men, -wrecked on their own fierce lawless passions, seek these dark cells, -these painful vigils, these unmeaning mortifications. They are not for -thee. The world awaits thy coming. The pawing steed, throwing the white -froth flakes o’er his broad chest, impatiently awaits thee. Fly, dear -lady, fly—the joyous, carrolling birds, the dew-spangled meadows, cry, -Come. The green, green trees—the bubbling water-falls—the soft summer -breezes—the rosy tinted East—the gorgeous drapery of the West—cry to -thee, Come. The voice of thy lover, frantic at thy self-sacrifice—the -voice of him who in the fragrant orange bower encircled thy slender -waist, whilst, with heightened colour and down-cast eyes, thou listen’d -to his rapid vows—the voice of him, who with thy glossy raven tresses -floating on his shoulder, and thy warm, sweet breath, mingling with his, -lavished soul, existence, all, on thee,—in agony cries, Dearest, dearest, -come. Nay, nay, ’tis but for _thy_ happiness,—I leave thee—exclaim not—I -am gone. - - - - -CATARACTS OF NIAGARA. - - -Now—on, on—over the Chute, and down the Rapid—leaping the Saults—through -the rivers, over the islands—we glide—we glide—we rush—we fly. Ho! Ariel, -beautiful spirit, riding on thy rainbow—shoot not thy silver arrows at -us as we pass. Tricksy spirit—fare thee well—now far in the distance, -fare—thee—well! Ha! ha!—Old frolic Puck—sweating, panting, holding thy -lubbard sides—we race—we race—we pass thee too—in vain thou strugglest -to o’ertake us. Farewell—farewell. Go pinch the housemaids—tickle with -straws the snoring herdsmen—tumble about the dusty mows—sprinkle sweet -hay before the ruminating cattle—clutch by the tail the cunning fox, -as stealthily he crawls within the hen-roost—and anon rub thy hands in -glee o’er the embers on the capacious kitchen hearth, and on all-fours -cut antics with the glowering cat, as with bowed back and shining eyes -she watches thee i’ th’ corner—peer into the kettles and into the -jars—see whether the barm rises—whether the yeast doth work; till with -clash—clatter—the metal lid slips from thy fingers on the hearth-stone, -and villain-like, thou shoot’st up the chimney, with “Ho! ho! ho!” -laughing at the sleepy yeoman, as half covered, with oaken cudgel -grasped, shivering, he peers through the door-crack the cause o’ th’ -uproar. Farewell, farewell, mirthful goblin—farewell, farewell. Ontario, -we waft across thy surface. Queenstown, thy sanguinary heights, crowned -with brave Briton’s monument, we pass, and now the rising mist-wreaths -warn us of thy approach, Niagara. Huzza! huzza! now for a bath under the -roaring Cataract. In what wild chaos of waters the clam’rous rapids, as -if from the horizon, rush down upon us—jumping, leaping, boiling, in -fierce confusion; and this frail bridge, how it groans and shakes in -the torrent’s sweep! A slip from Mahomet’s sword edge o’er the awful -Hades, would not consign us to more inevitable destruction, than would -a treacherous plank or rotten beam from this shaking platform. We tread -the deep green woods of Goat Island, their mossy trunks covered with -love-marks of Orlandos and Rosalinds; and, amid the roar, descend the -great Ferry stair-case—stop a moment at this landing—step out. How the -solid earth shakes—jars and vibrates! How the wild winds rush by us, as -the huge fluid arch stretches over with continuous plunge—and see that -group of wild-flowers—scarlet, green, and purple—smiling in beauty beyond -the reach of human hand, glistening in moisture midst the very spray in -the rock cleft. But—haste—haste! Here is the boatman. Leap in—leap in! -Now how, in our little cockle-shell bark, we whirl and sport in the -eddies, o’er the fathomless depths below, like wing-borne insects playing -over the abyss. - -We land—ascend the heights—we pass the sentry. At the tiring-house. -We robe ourselves for the enterprise—tarpaulin coats—hats bound with -old rope—trowsers of tow cloth—shoes of cowhide—ha! ha! But quick, -descend the long spiral stair-case. Now, Guide—we follow. Beware you -fall not on these sharp, slippery rocks. We approach. The Table Rock -hangs over us. In grandeur the solid fluid mass falls precipitate. -Prepare. Turn as you enter—hold down your head—repress your breath: -are you ready? Rush! We are beneath the yawning chasm—soaked in an -instant. Like furious rainstorm, and wind, and tempest all combined, -this wild, frightful roar. What? Scream louder, louder. Hold firm by -the guide—a slip from this narrow ledge—and—whew—splash—dead in our -faces—almost suffocated. Turn to the dripping rock wall, and catch your -breath till the wind rush again lifts the watery curtain. Slimy eels -glide by—darkness deep above—dim light strives to reach us through the -cataract sheets. We are at the extreme verge. Guide—guide—ha?—what -indicates that motion of thy lips—closer—close in my ear. “Termination -rock.” Turn—turn—splash—swash—drenched—suffocated—return, return. We see -again the light. Rush! We stand once more in the clear open sunlight. -Whew!—puff—dripping—dripping—a shower-bath worthy of old Neptune. How -delightfully our nerves spring under its exhilarating influence. Take -care—again these slippery stones. Beware! beware! Here we ascend again -the stair-case. In the attiring-room. Towels—brushes—Christians once more. - -Come—come! Now to the Table Rock. See with what treacherous glitter -the wide Niagara stretches in perfect smoothness far towards Chippewa, -till, descending upon us, it shoots the rapids o’er their rocky beds -like things of life, and with wild rush around the island, sweeps -resistless o’er the awful cataracts, a roaring hurricane of waters. Give -me your hand—lean forward—look into the abyss—careful. Evil spirits -take us at advantage at such times, and whisper us to leap forward. How -lashed in milky whiteness the huge gulf boils and foams as the waters -plunge fractured, disjointed, tumbling in masses—and the wild birds, -how fearlessly they skim amid the white mist rising from its surface. -How the earth shudders and trembles around us. You are already dizzy. -Come back from the edge. How awful—how terribly sublime! How tame—how -useless, helpless description! Would that I, with voice of inspiration, -could command language adequate to pourtray the grandeur of the scene -under stern Winter’s reign! Transcendantly beautiful once I saw it! A -thaw and rain, followed by sudden chill and cold, had clothed all the -forest—every hedge and shrub, with transparent coat of ice. Gnarled -oaks, from massive trunk to their extremest twigs, became huge crystal -chandeliers. The ever-green pines and hemlocks, with long lancing -branches,—great emeralds; lithe willows, sweeping, glassy cascades; the -wild vines, stiff in silvery trellices between them; the undergrowth, -with scarlet, blue and purple berries, candied fruits. The pools of -frozen water at their feet, dark sheets of adamant; and ever and anon, -as the north wind passed o’er them, the forest was Golconda, Araby—one -Ind of radiant gems, quivering with diamonds, rubies, sapphires, in -glittering splendour; pearls, emeralds, hyacinths, chrysolites, falling -in showers, as fractured from their crackling branches, they strewed the -snowy bed stretched smooth around them. That wide, smooth river, far -above the Rapids, ice-chained, a solid snow-white bed, gleaming in the -midday sun. Yon tower, misshapen giant phantom, ice god, in frozen shroud -and winding-sheet, firmly fixed ’mid the swift running waters:—huge -stalactite icicles, Winter’s hoary beard, hanging in fantastic curtains -from each rock ledge—pinnacle—projection; while on the black rapids, the -vast ice-fields breaking in masses, piled in wild confusion, grinding -and swaying on their treacherous holds, till gathering momentum, with -slide and plunge—submerged, they swept onward ’mid the wild roar of the -cataracts, which, with stern, resistless power, held their terrific -course. Those huge sheets, those watery arches, those green beryl masses, -plunging in resistless fury, unabated vastness, with desperate leaps into -the foaming abyss below, the spray falling in silver showers, pierced -by the sun’s rays dancing around them in countless rainbows; while the -ice avalanches, breaking from their grasps on the surrounding rocks and -precipices, with booming plunge and uproar, fell crashing,—buried in -the dark whirlpools, boiling in the fathomless depths below. The dark -river, in torrents of copperas-hue, whirling in eddies, rushing o’er -its deep rocky bed—in savage contrast with the snow-covered precipices -that chained it to its course. Deep, resistless sweep of waters! black -as despair—Sadoc here were to thee the waters of Oblivion—here that -Lethe, which, till other worlds received thee, should blot existence from -keenest memory. - -The voice of the Unseen addressed the afflicted Patriarch from the -whirlwind’s midst—us does it warn from this chained whirlwind of the -waters. Sublime, terrible, indescribable, as is this scene by human -tongue, how tamely all its grandeur sinks beneath the catastrophe, which -the being of future ages shall survey,—or would, if with eagle’s wings -he could soar high in the clouds above it,—when the narrow rock-belt -which Niagara for by-gone centuries has been slowly wearing, severed, the -light tract alluvial crumbling—the whole chain of inland oceans—Huron, -Erie, Michigan, with awful wildness and destruction, sweep in second -deluge o’er this outlet—the adamantine rocks sinking like snow-wreaths -from their beds—all principalities, kingdoms, states—whate’er they -shall be—between the Atlantic and the Alleghanies, the Labrador and -Mexico—swept from existence, and in their place a heaving surge—wild -waste of waters. Fool! revolve this scene terrific in thy heart—ponder it -well—then, if thou canst, say, indeed, there is no God! Thy life, at best -a flickering taper, shall soon meet extinguishment. Then shall there be -an eternity to convince thee. - - - - -MOUNT HOLYOKE. - - -Here we are in the middle of the month of August. The “world” have long -since fled the hot walls and blazing pavements of old Gotham, and even -the very school-boys are let loose from their pale-faced pedagogues, to -frolic like young colts in the country. Come, let us not alone remain in -the sweltering city. Throw a few things in your carpet-bag—ay, that is -sufficient. Make me the guide. We will leave Saratoga and Rockaway to -their flirtations—another field is before us. Now, Eastward ho! shall lie -our course. Distance and time are left behind us—already we are ensconced -at the Mansion House in this most lovely of villages, “Northampton the -beautiful.” - -Well does it deserve the name. Come one moment to the corner of this -piazza. Look down the long avenues. See the symmetrical verdant arches, -formed by the boughs of the antique elms, bending toward each other in -loving fraternity; and see the snow-white houses at their feet, their -court-yards smiling with flowers; and see the still more smiling faces -that glance behind their transparent windows. That will do—you have -stared long enough at the demure beauty behind the green blinds. Look -this way, and witness the refined taste exhibited in the graceful -cottages, as they stand in relief against the dark back-ground of the -forest,—the Grecian column, the Gothic arch, the Italian verandah, -cottage and temple, all spread around you like the city of your dreams. -Truly it seems, as it mostly is, the abode of retired gentlemen—a very -Decameron sort of a place in this working-day world of ours. But, allons! -Are we not Americans? _Why_ should we rest? To breakfast—behold a regular -Yankee feast. Snow-white bread, and golden butter,—chickens that one -short hour since dreamed of bins of corn and acres of oats on their -roosts in the lofty barn,—steaks, pies, tea, preserves, the well-browned -cakes, and last, not least, the sparkling amber cider. Blessings on the -heart of the nice looking damsel at the coffee urn, with her red cheeks -and neat check apron. But, egad! my dear friend—prudence! hold up—we have -to ascend the mountain, and you will not find the feast that you are -stowing away with such Dalgetty industry, likely to improve your wind. -That last hot roll lengthens our ascent just one quarter of an hour. -There! the horses are neighing, and impatiently champing the bit at the -door. Are you ready? Come then. Look out, lest that fiery devil throw -you on the bosom of our common mother, earth!—your bones would find her -a step-dame—those flaming nostrils are sworn enemies to your long spur -gaffs. But here we go! How balmy and delightful the cool air of the -morning!—the verdant grass rises gracefully—the wild flower shakes its -tiny bells, and drinks the dewy diamond glittering on its lips, as it -waves gently o’er them. The rich yellow sun mocks the trees, as it rolls -out their broad shadows on the velvet turf beneath—while from knoll and -waving mullen stalk, the meadow-lark, with outstretched neck and piercing -eye, utters his sweet notes in almost delirious rapture. We clear the -broad meadows. Our very horses, with ears erect, gather speed with every -bound, and seem ready to cry ha! ha! We are the fabled centaurs of old. - -See! see!—the heavy morning mist, rising in huge volumes, reluctantly -bares the forest on the mountain side,—it curls and breaks in vast -masses,—it slowly rolls off to the eastward. Aye! there he stands—there -stands old _Holyoke_, with his cragged coronal of rocks, a gigantic -Titan, bidding defiance to time and tempest. Gallop—gallop! we are within -two hundred feet of the summit. This precipice, its dark sides frowning -and grim, the velvet moss, and little clustres of scarlet and yellow -flowers peeping from its crevices, where the ripling brooklet scatters -its mimic showers over them, wreathed fantastically with vines and -gnarled branches from its clefts,—we must climb on foot. Rest a moment. -How perfectly still the dense forest extends around us. Nought breaks the -silence, save the querulous cry of the cat-bird, as it hops from branch -to branch,—the mimic bark of the squirrel, or the distant hollow tap of -the woodpecker. Now, a little more climbing—take care of those loose -stones—a few steps additional ascent—give me your hand—spring!—here we -are on the rocky platform of its summit. Is not the scene magnificent? -We stand in the centre of an amphitheatre two hundred miles in diameter. -See! at the base of the mountain curls, like a huge serpent, the -Connecticut, its sinuosities cutting the smooth plains with all sorts -of grotesque figures,—now making a circuit around a peninsula of miles, -across whose neck a child might throw a stone,—here stretching straight -as an arrow for a like distance,—and there again returning like a hare -upon its course. See the verdant valleys extending around us, rich with -the labour of good old New England’s sons, and far in the distance—the -blue smoky distance—rising in majesty, God’s land-marks, the mountains. -See the beautiful plains, the prairies beneath us, one great carpet of -cultivation,—the fields of grain, the yellow wheat, the verdant maize, -the flocks, the herds, the meadow, the woodland, forming beautiful -and defined figures in its texture, while the villages in glistening -whiteness, are scattered, like patches of snow, in every part of the -landscape; and hark! in that indistinct and mellow music we hear the -bell slowly tolling from yonder slender spire. Oh! for a Ruysdael, or a -Rubens, to do justice to the picture. - -Surely God did not intend that we should sweat and pant in cities when -he places such scenes before us. How like the fierce giants of old -the lofty mountains encircle it, as a land of enchantment. See! see! -the clouds, as they scud along in the heavens, how they throw their -broad shadows, chasing each other on the plains below. Imagine them -squadrons, charging in desperate and bloody battle. But no—widows and -orphans’ tears follow not _their_ encounters—rather the smiles of the -honest, hard-handed yeoman, as he foresees his wains groaning with the -anticipated harvests—his swelling stacks—his crowded granaries. Here, for -the present, let us recline on the broad and moss-covered rocks, while -with the untutored Indian, its rightful owner, in silent admiration, we -worship the Great Spirit, whose finger moves not, save in beauty, in -harmony and majesty. - - - - -WHITE MOUNTAINS. - - -“Knock! knock! knock!” W-e-l-l. “Thump! thump! thump!” Who’s there? -What do you want? “Passengers for the White Mountains, Sir, time to get -up,—stage ready.” Is it possible? three o’clock already? W-e-l-l, I’ll -get up. Call the gentleman in the next room. Well, my friend, how are -you, after your trip of yesterday to Mount Holyoke?—a little stiff in -the knees and ancles, eh!—but come, the stage is at the door. Waiter, -hold the light. How forlorn look the heavy muddy vehicle, and half-waked -horses by the dim light of the stage lamps. That’s right, my good fellow; -throw those carpet-bags in the inside. Shut the door. All ready. Driver, -go ahead! “Aye, aye, sir.” Hey!—Tchk! tchk!—Crack! crack! crack! off we -go. The steady clatter of the horses’ hoofs, the jingling of the harness, -the occasional roll, as we pass over the boards of some bridge, and -the intejectional whistle of the driver as he encourages them, are the -only things that break the silence for the next hour. The morning light -begins to dawn. Whom have we here? Only two fellow travellers. An honest, -clean-looking countryman, snugly fixed in one corner, with his night-cap -pulled over his eyes, and his mouth wide open, as if admiring the melody -that his nose in bugle strain is enacting just above it; and opposite to -him a gross fat man, of rubicund visage, his eyes ensconced in goggles. -See! he nods—and nods—and nods, and now his head bobs forward into his -neighbour’s lap. How foolishly he looks, as he awakes to consciousness. -It is broad day-light. Let us get up with the driver on the outside, and -enjoy our cigars and the scenery together. - -Here we go, through the Connecticut River Valley, famous for its scenery -and its legends—the region of bright eyes and strong arms—the land of -quiltings and huskings—of house-raisings and militia trainings, and the -home of savory roast pigs and stuffed turkeys, of fat geese, of apple -sauce, and pumpkin pies; the Ultima Thule to the Yankee’s imagination. -Now we are at Deerfield. While they are about our breakfast, we will run -across the road, and see the old Williams Mansion. A hundred years since, -it was surrounded by Indians, and its occupant, the clergyman, with his -family, carried off captives to Canada. Here is the very hole cut in -the front door by their tomahawks, and here the hacks of the hatchets. -Through this hole they ran their rifles, and fired into the house, -killing a man confined to his bed by sickness, and here is the ball -lodging to this day in the side of the wall—and this occurred one hundred -years ago! Say you, that the people that treasure up these legends, and -retain these memorials untouched, have no poetry in their souls? But -there goes the stageman’s horn! Our breakfast finished, we resume our -places at the side of the good-natured driver, and on we roll. We pass -Brattleboro’, snugly ensconced in its mountain eyrie, and Hanover, with -its broad parade, its flourishing colleges, and its inhabitants that -never die,—save from old age. - -With teams of six and eight horses, we speed over hill, over dale, over -mountain, over valley, ascending and descending the mountains in full -run; our gallant horses almost with human instinct, guiding themselves. -Snorting leaders, swerve not aside in your career—linch-pins, do your -duty—traces and breeching, hold on toughly, or “happy men be our dole.” -Hah! Wild Amonoosac, we greet thy indeed wild roar.—How it sweeps -the fallen timber in its boiling eddies! The huge logs slide dancing -onwards with the velocity of the canoes of the Indian; or caught by -envious projection, or uplifting rock, form dams and cascades, till the -increasing and cumbrous masses, gathering momentum, plunge forward, -sweeping all before them,—and—but whist! Step into the shade of this -tree—look into the dark pool beneath those gnarled roots—how beautifully -the gold and purple colours glitter—how motionlessly still is the -head—how slight and tremulous the movement of that fin—the wavy motion -of the tail. A two pounder, as I am a Christian! Whist! whist! See that -dragon-fly, gently sailing o’er the surface—he rests a moment on it. -Watch! the head slowly turns—the fins move decidedly—ay—now—one rapid -whirl of the tail—an electric leap to the surface—Poor fly, thy history -is written; and well for thee, thou greedy trout, that no barbed hook -suspends thee in mid air—struggling in beauty, though in death, the prize -of exulting angler. And thou, too, art there, savage _Mount Franconia_, -with thy fantastic and human outline! Old Man of the Mountain!—with what -grim stoicism thou lookest down upon the busy miners, as with picks and -powder-blast they rive the sullen mineral from thy vitals. Ay! watch -thou by the lurid glare the sweating, half-naked forgemen, as they feed -with thy forests the roaring furnaces. Watch the molten ore, slowly -running in glittering streams, with fiery showers of scintillations into -the dark earth-troughs below; while with ceaseless din, the ponderous -trip-hammers, and clanking machinery, break the till now Sabbath -stillness of thy dwelling place. But fare thee well, thou imperturbable -old man; fare thee well, for now, we enter the dense continuous forest, -through which the busy hand of man has with unwearied industry cut the -avenue. How deliciously the aroma of the gigantic pines, mingles with -the pure elastic air of the mountains. See the thick undergrowth; the -dogwood with its snowy blossoms—the scarlet sumac—the waving green -briar, profuse with delicate roses,—the crimson raspberry, loaded with -its fruit—the yellow sensitive plant—the dancing blue-bell; and, rising -through the entangled mass of verdure and beauty, see the luxuriant wild -grape, and clinging ivy, joyously climbing the patriarchs of the forest, -encircling their trunks, and hanging their branches in graceful festoons -and umbrageous bowers.—No human foot, save with the aid of pioneer, can -penetrate its matted wildness—nought save those huge patriarchs rising -above it as they grow old and die, and fall with crashing uproar, as into -flowery sepulchre, intrude upon its solitude. Then, indeed, in heavy -booming plunge and rush, they seem to wildly sing, like their painted -children, their death song. But hark!—whence that wild and dissonant -shriek, that rings upon the ear? Ah—yonder, erect and motionless, he sits -upon the towering oak with haughty eye and talons of iron, screaming his -call of warning to his partner, slowly circling in graceful curves high, -high in the blue ether above him. Ay! proud bird, our nation’s emblem, -would that thy wild scream could warn from us, the accursed spirit of -Mammon, which, spreading like an incubus, blights and destroys with its -mildew the virtues and energies of her sons. - -But see, where, as the dense forest stretches onward, the casual spark -dropped by the hand of the woodman, spreading into flame, and gathering -in mighty volumes of fire, has swept onwards in its roaring, crackling, -destroying progress, leaving nought behind it, save these grim and -blackened skeletons, and dead plains of ashes. See what darkness and -desolation, and apparent annihilation, extend around you—but yet, -silently and quietly, ere long, shall the germ of life which can never -die, rise from these ashes, and verdure and beauty reign again, as was -their wont. Even so the solitary mourner, when death strikes down at -his side his dearest ones, stands helplessly encircled by solitude and -desolation; but soon all-pervading benevolence causes the green germ -of the soul to rise from the ashes, and his heart again expands with -tenderness and sympathy. - -The scene of desolation is passed! and now, lest the Lord of fire should -reign uncontrolled, lo! where the spirit of the whirlwind has swept in -his wild tornado. Lo! far as your vision can command the circle—where, -rushing from the mountain gorges his chariots have whirled along in their -fierce career of destruction. In mid height, the lofty trees are snapped -like pipe-stems, and prone like the field of grain laid by the hand of -the reaper, huge trunks with the moss of centuries,—not here and there -one solitary,—but for miles, the whole vast forest—prostrate, never again -to rise. - -But speed! speed! the mountain passes are before us! See—see their -huge walls tower in chaotic wildness above us. Rocks on rocks—ledge on -ledge—cliff on cliff—plunged upon each other in frantic disorder. See— - - “See the giant snouted crags, ho! ho! - How they snort, how they blow.” - -See the huge rock ramparts shooting their wild peaks and jagged pinnacles -upwards, piercing the very sky above us! their frowning and gashed sides -trickling and discoloured with the corroding minerals in their bowels; -the stunted pines and evergreens clinging like dwarf shrubs in their -crevices. Take heed! beware you fall not. See the huge slides—they have -swept whole torrents of rocks, of earth, in promiscuous destruction, from -their summits, upon the valley below—the rivers filled, and turned from -their courses, in their path,—the very forest itself—the loftiest trees -torn up, their branches, their trunks, their upturned roots ground and -intermixed with rock and earth, and splintered timber, swept on in wild, -inextricable confusion—and here! where starting from their slumbers, the -devoted family rushed naked and horror-stricken to meet it in mid career. -Ay! hold on by the sides of the steep precipice—cling to the ledge as -the wild wind rushes by in furious gust—a slip were your passport to -eternity. Look down! How awful the precipice, thousands of feet below -you—how the blood curdles and rushes back upon the heart, as you imagine -the fatal plunge. Well might the Puritans of old, deem these ghastly -deserts the abode and haunts of the evil one. - -But, on—on—how toilsome the ascent.—That was a fearful blast; hold -tightly the wild roots in thy grasp as it passes. Long since have we -passed the region of vegetation: the dry and arid moss clinging to rock -and stone, is alone around us. Ay! drink of that spring—but beware its -icy coldness—nor winter, nor summer, alters its temperature. Behold, in -the clefts and gorges below, the never-melting snow-wreaths. The flaming -suns of summer pass over, and leave them undiminished. Courage! we climb, -we climb. The witches of the Brocken ne’er had such wild chaos for their -orgies. Courage, my friend! We ascend—we ascend—we reach the top—now -panting—breathless—exhausted, we throw ourselves upon the extreme summit. - -Gather your faculties—press hard your throbbing heart. Catch a view of -the scene of grandeur around you, before the wild clouds, like dense -volumes of steam, enclose us in their embrace, shutting it from our -vision;—mountains—mountains—rolling off as far as eye can reach in -untiring vastness—a huge sea of mountains held motionless in mid career. -How sublime! how grand! what awful solitude! what chilling, stern, -inexorable silence! It seems as if an expectant world were awaiting in -palpitating stillness the visible advent of the Almighty—mountain and -valley in expectant awe. Oh! man—strutting in thy little sphere, thinkest -thou that adoration is confined alone to thy cushioned seats—thy aisles -of marble; that for devotion, the Almighty looks to nought but thee? -Why, look thou there!—beneath—around—millions—millions—millions of -acres teeming with life, yet hushed in silence to thy ear—each grain -the integer and composite of a world—the minutest portion, a study—a -wonder in itself—lie before thee in awful adoration of their Almighty -Founder. Well did the Seers of old go into the mountains to worship. -Oh! my brother-man—thou that dost toil, and groan, and labour, in -continual conflict with what appears to thee unrelenting fate—thou to -whom the brow-sweat appears to bring nought but the bitter bread, and -contumely, and shame;—thou on whom the Sysiphean rock of misfortune seems -remorselessly to recoil—ascend thou hither. Here, on this mountain-peak, -nor King, nor Emperor are thy superior. Here, thou _art_ a man. Stand -thou here; and while with thy faculties thou canst command, in instant -comprehension, the scene sublime before thee, elevate thee in thy -self-respect, and calmly, bravely throw thyself into the all-sheltering -arms of Him, who watches with like benevolence and protection, the young -bird in its grassy nest, and the majestic spheres, chiming eternal music -in their circling courses! - - - - -BASS FISHING OFF NEWPORT. - - -Here we are at Newport—what a little gem of an island—rising like emerald -on sapphire, from the surrounding ocean. Neither at Potter’s nor at -Whitfield’s, will we take our abode. We will walk up to the Mall. Ay, -here, with its green blinds and scrupulously clean piazza, is old Mrs. -E——’s, and they are at tea already. Come, take your seat at table. - -With what serene dignity and kindness the old lady, in her nice plaited -cap, her spotless kerchief, and russet poplin dress, her pin ball, with -its silver chain, hanging at her waist—presides at the board—crowded -with every imaginable homely delicacy—from the preserved peach and -crullers made by herself, to the green candied limes brought home by her -grandson from his last West India voyage. See the antique furniture, -with its elaborate carving, the mahogany-framed looking-glasses; and, -in the corner, on the round stand, the large Bible, carefully covered -with baize, surmounted with the silver spectacles. No place this for -swearing, duel-fighting, be-whiskered heroes; but just the thing for -quiet, sober folk, like you and me. What sayest thou, Scipio, thou ebon -angel,—that the ebb sets at five i’ the morning, and that old Davy Swan, -the fisherman, will be ready for us at the Long Wharf at that hour? Well, -get yourself ready and go along with us. Call us in season. Ay, that -will do—the roll of those eyes—the display of that ivory, to say nothing -of the scratch of that head, and the sudden displacement of that leg, -sufficiently evince thy delight. - -So, so,—here we are, punctual to the hour. Ay, yonder he is in his broad -strong fishing-boat; yonder is old Davy Swan, as he was twenty years -ago; the same tall, gaunt figure, the same stoop in the shoulders, -bronzed visage, and twinkling grey eyes; the same wrinkles at the side -of his mouth, though deeper; the same long, lank hair, but now the sable -silvered; the same—the same that he was in the days of my boyhood. He -sees us. Now he stretches up to the wharf. Jump in—jump in. Be careful, -thou son of Ethiopia, or thy basket will be overboard—sad disappointment -to our sea-whet appetites some few brief hours hence. All in. We slide -gently from the wharf. The light air in the inner harbour here barely -gives us headway. Look down into the deep, still water—clear as crystal; -see the long sea-weed wave below; see the lithe eels, coursing and -whipping their paths through its entangled beds; and see our boat, with -its green and yellow sides—its long flaunting pennant—its symmetrical -white sails, suspended, as if in mid-air, on its transparent surface. - -How still and tranquil lies the quiet town, as the sun gilds its white -steeples; and how comfortable look the old family mansions rising from -the green trees. How beautifully the yellow sun casts his shadows on the -undulating surface of the island, green and verdant—the flocks of sheep, -and browsing cattle, grouped here and there upon its smooth pastures. And -see, how yonder alike he gilds the land of the brave, the chivalrous, -the unfortunate Miantonimoh. We float past Fort Wolcott. Its grass-grown -ramparts, surmounted with dark ordnance, and its fields cheerful with -white-washed cottages and magazines. - -Ay! now it breezes a little—now we gather headway—and now we pass the -cutter. See her long, taper, raking masts, her taut stays and shrouds; -and hear, as the stripes and stars are run up to her gaff, the short -roll of the drum, the “beat to quarters.” Hah! Davy,—old fellow, dost -remember that note last war? How many times, at midnight, we’ve sprang -from our beds as that short, quick “rub-a-dub” warned us of the approach -of the blockading frigates, as they neared the town. But, no, no,—forgive -me, old tar,—I recollect, indeed, thou then wast captain of thy gun, -on board the dashing _Essex_. Ay! well now do I remember, brave old -sailor, thy conduct in her last desperate battle. Eighteen men hadst thou -killed at thy single gun. I think I see thee now, as grimed with powder, -spattered with blood, thou didst advance, through fire and smoke, and -approach thy saturnine commander on the quarter-deck. I hear thy brief, -business-like request, “A fresh crew for Number Three, Second Division. -All my men are killed!” And the short, stern response, “Where is your -officer?” “_Dead_,—swept overboard by cannon shot.” And well can I see -the momentary play of anguish round his mouth, as, resuming his hurried -walk, he gloomily replies, “I have no more men—you must fight your gun -yourself!” Ay—and as thy proud ship a helpless target lay, for twice -superior force, I hear poor Ripley, thy brave comrade, severed almost in -twain by cannon shot, crying, with short farewell—“Messmates, I am no -longer of use to myself or country,” as he throws himself, his life-blood -gushing, overboard. - -But now the wind freshens—the smooth surface darkens—the sails belly out -in tension, and the white ripples gather under our bows. We round the -point: Fort Adams, we pass thy massive walls, thy grim “forty-two’s” -glaring like wild beasts, chained, ready to leap upon us from their -casements. Ay—now we run outside—now it freshens—now it breezes—she -begins to dance like a feather. There it comes stronger! see the white -caps! There she goes—scuppers under—swash—swash—swash—we jump from wave -to wave, as we run parallel with the shore, our pennant streaming proudly -behind us. Here it comes, strong and steady—there she takes it—gunwale -under—luff, old fellow! luff up, Davy! or you’ll give us all wet jackets. -Ay! that will do—she’s in the wind’s eye. How the waves tumble in upon -the land—see the Spouting Rock—see the column of white foam thrown up, -as repulsed, the waves roll out again from the rocky cavern. We near -the Dumplings—and, round to! round to! here are the lobster-pots—haul -in—tumble them in the bottom of the boat—ay—there’s bait enough. Now we -lay our course across to Beaver Light—we slide, we dash along—springing -from wave to wave—dash—dash—no barnacles on her bottom at this rate, -Davy. Ay, here we are—a quick run—a good quick run. Anchor her just -outside the surf—ay, that will do—give her a good swing—let her ride -free—she rolls like a barrel on these long waves. Look to your footing, -boys—steady—steady. Now, then, for it. Davy, you and Scip will have as -much as you can do to bait for us—all ready. Here goes then—a good long -throw—that’s it—my sinker is just inside the surf. What!—already! I’ve -got him—pull in, pull in—see, my line vibrates like a fiddle-string!—pull -away—here he is—_Tautaug_—three-pounder. Lie you there—ay, slap away, -beauty, you have done for ever with your native element. There, again—off -with him. Again—again—again. This is fun to us, but death to you, -ye disciples of St. Anthony! Give me a good large bait this time, -Scipio—that will do—now, whis-whis-whis-te—that’s a clean, long throw. -By Jupiter! you have got a bite with a vengeance. Careful—give him more -line—let it run—play him—ease—ease the line around the thole-pin; he’ll -take all the skin of your fingers else. Pull away gently—there he runs. -Careful, or you lose him—play him a little—he begins to tire—steady, -steady—draw away—now he shoots wildly this way—look out! there he goes -under the boat; here he is again. Steady—quick, Davy, the net;—I’ve got -it under him—now then, in with him. Bass! twenty pounds, by all the -steel-yards in the old Brick Market! Ay, there they have got hold of -me; a pull like a young shark; let it run—the whole line is out—quick, -quick—take a turn round the thole-pin—snap! There, Davy! there goes -your best line, sinker, hooks and all. Give me the other line. Ah, -ha!—again—again—again. This is sport. One—two—three——nine Bass, and -thirty Tautaug. So—the tide won’t serve here any longer; we will stretch -across to Brenton’s Reef, on the other side. Up anchor, hoist away the -jib. Here we go, again coursing o’er the blue water. How the wind lulls. -Whew—whew—whew—blow wind, blow! Put her a little more before it; that -will do. Hallo, you, Scipio! wake up—wake up. Here we are, close on the -reef—give her plenty of cable. Let her just swing clear, to lay our -sinkers on the rocks. That will do. How the surges swell, and roar, and, -recoiling, rush again boiling on the rocks. So—so, they don’t bite well -here to-day. The tide comes in too strong flood; well, we can’t complain, -we have had good sport even as it is. Come, Africa, bear a hand; let’s -see what you have got in that big basket. Come, turn out, turn out. Ham, -chicken, smoked salmon, bread and butter; and in that black bottle?—ay, -good old brown stout? Pass them along—pass them along, and wo be unto -thee, old fellow, if thy commissariat falls short. - - - - -BRENTON’S REEF. - - -With what sullen and continuous roar the ocean waves heave in upon this -inhospitable reef. See, as they recede, how the long slimy rock-weed -hangs dripping, and how deeply the returning surge buries it again. Oh, -never shall I forget the scene upon this horrid reef, witnessed in my -boyhood. A dark portentous day in autumn, was followed in the evening -by a terrific storm. Low, muttering thunder, which had been growling -in the distant horizon, as the night set in, grew louder. The perfect -stillness which had obtained, as if in preparation, was broken by long -moaning sighs; the lightning became quick and incessant, and ere long, -the tempest, like an unchained demon, came bounding in from Ocean. The -lightning intensely vivid, accompanied by crashing and terrific thunder, -illuminated the surrounding coast with glittering splendour; the islands, -the rocks, and yon beacon tower, now exposed to brightness, surpassing -noon-day, and now plunged into blackest darkness. The ocean appeared a -sea of molten fire. Rain—hail—dashed hissing by, and mid the screaming -of the blast, and the torrents rushing from the skies, the huge waves -plunged, and roared, and lashed in milky whiteness, broke mast high -upon these horrid rocks. While the fishermen in their cottages were -thanking their stars that they were snug and safe on shore, we heard in -the temporary lulls of the howling storm, signal guns of distress. The -neighbouring inhabitants, myself among the number, were soon upon that -point, and by the glittering flashes within musket shot of the shore, -discerned a Spanish ship on the very ridge of the frightful reef—the -stumps of her masts alone remaining—the surf running and breaking in a -continual deluge over her, while in her fore shrouds were congregated -the unhappy crew. She was so near to us, that we could almost see the -expression of agony in their countenances, as, with extended hands they -piteously shrieked for help. Their situation was hopeless. We could do -nothing for them. No whale-boat could have lived for a moment, the surf -rolled in with such resistless violence. We could only listen in silent -horror. We heard the very grinding of her timbers, as shock on shock -hastened her dissolution; and amid the fury of the storm, and their -frantic cries for aid, never shall I forget, in the momentary lulls, the -sickening continuous wail of a young boy lashed in the mid-rigging,—his -supplicating exclamation, “Ai Jesus!—Ai Jesus!” Often, years after, in -my dreams, did I hear those plaintive cries, and see that young boy’s -face turned imploringly to Heaven, while that “Ai Jesus!—Ai Jesus!” -rang wildly in my ears. But a short time could human fabric sustain the -ceaseless plunge of the foaming elements. By the lightning flashes, we -could see the number of the sufferers lessen, as relaxing their hold, -they dropped off exhausted one by one—swept into the rocky caverns -below; until, a longer interval of darkness—a more intense flash of -lightning—and all had disappeared. Nought was left but the white foam as -it rushed tumultuously boiling and coursing over the long reef before -us. It was so brief—so hurried—the appearance of our fellow-creatures in -their agony, and their disappearance so sudden, that it seemed a feverish -dream. But the dead, mutilated bodies—ceroons of indigo and tobacco—and -broken planks, swept along the shore on the following morning, convinced -us of its sad reality. - -The corse of the young boy, ungashed by the ragged rocks, I found, and -caused it to be buried apart from the rest in the church-yard, for it -appeared, as if there was in his childish helplessness, a claim upon -me for protection. That expression of agony I ne’er heard since—save -once: and that—but Davy, we have had all the sport we are like to have -to-day—get up the anchor, and we will fan along up to the harbour. So—let -her jibe—now put her before it—ay—that will do.—As I was saying. Shortly -after the close of the last war, buoyant with youth and hope, I made, -what was then not so common as now, the tour of Europe—lingering long in -Old Spain, fascinated with the romantic character of the countrymen of -Cervantes—of the gallant Moors—of the Alhambra and the Cid. It chanced -one evening, strolling about the streets of Madrid in pursuance of -adventure, that, passing through one of the most unfrequented squares, -I was attracted by lights shining through the long Gothic windows of a -large chapel or cathedral. I approached, and entering with some curiosity -found it entirely silent. No living soul was present within its walls. -The lofty chancel and altars were shrouded in mourning. By the wax -candles on the altars, I could see the fretted arches—the shrines and -monuments along the walls—and the family banners wreathed in gloomy -festoons above them. I wandered about, alone and uninterrupted. Nought -moved, save the old blood-stained flags, as they fitfully waived to and -fro in the wind. I gazed around me in admiration on the rich shrines -and their appropriate pictures. Here, with her offerings of flowers, -the wax candles, burning bright and clear, was the Madonna, her lovely -countenance beaming with celestial sweetness, as she looked down upon the -infant Saviour nestling in her arms—the Baptist standing at her knee, -pressing the plump little foot to his lips—and there, John in the island -of Patmos—his emaciated limbs staring from their scanty covering of -sackcloth—and his gaunt features glowing with inspiration, as from among -the cloud of scattered grey hair, and venerable beard, with upturned -face, he received from the flame-encircled trumpet above him, the Holy -Revelation. - -Here, armed cap-à-pied, the chivalrous Knights of the Temple consigned -their slain brother to his rocky sepulchre, as with grim, stern, averted -countenances they watched the fierce conflict and assault of the daring -Infidel upon their Holy City—and there, the cross of Constantine richly -emblazoned on its altar, was the _Crucifixion_, the Saviour extended -on the cross—the thieves on each side of him—the head just bowed—and -the awful “_It is finished!_” announced to the nations in frightful -phenomena. The sun turned to blood, throwing a lurid and unnatural -glare on the assembled multitude—the war-horses, riderless, rearing -and plunging with distended nostrils—rolling in convulsions the solid -mountains;—the affrighted soldiery, horror-stricken, wildly lifting their -hands to ward off the toppling crag, which, torn from its foundation by -the earthquake, was in another instant to grind them to powder—while -the Roman centurion, with curling lip, holding tighter in his grasp the -crimson flag, the “_S. P. Q. R._” shaking fiercely in the wild wind, -seemed to deride the coward Jew, even in that dread moment, with his -abject slavery—and here was San Sebastian, his eyes streaming with martyr -tears—and the tinkling of a small bell struck upon my ear:—boys clad in -scarlet, swung their censers to and fro, and the incense floated high -above them to the vaulted arches. - -A train of monks, in purple robes embroidered with white crosses, -appeared in procession, slowly advancing on the tesselated pavement, -bearing on tressels, covered with dark pall, a corse, by the muffled -outline, of manly stature. Two female figures; grave servitors, with deep -reverence supporting them, followed close the dead. The deep thunder -tones of the huge organ, swept upward as they entered, wild, grand, -and terrible, as if touched by no earthly hand: scarce audible sounds -floating from the smallest pipes would catch the ear—then bursts, like -the roaring whirlwind, pouring in the whole mass of trumpets, rolling, -and rising, and falling,—the most exquisite symphonies floating in the -intervals, until fainter, fainter, the heart sickened in efforts to -catch its tones. Dead silence followed:—the corse was deposited in the -chancel—the dark black pall was slowly withdrawn, and the noble figure of -a cavalier in the bloom of manhood, pallid in death, lay exposed before -us. Clad in sable velvet, his rapier rested on his extended body, the -jewelled cross-hilt reverently enclosed in his clasped hands, as they -met upon his broad chest, while the luxuriant raven hair, parted on the -high forehead, the dark arched eye-brow, and the glossy moustache curling -on the lip, added deeper pallor, to what appeared deep, deep sleep. The -servitors withdrew, and the mother and the daughter advanced to the last -sight of him that was so generous, so kind, so beautiful—their all. The -thick veil, thrown hastily aside, discovered the furrowed, time-worn, -grief-worn features of the mother, convulsively writhe and work, as, -sinking at its head, her lips pressed in uncontrollable agony the damp -cold white forehead. The sister, clad in robes of purest whiteness, her -golden ringlets dishevelled and floating around her, and in their rich -luxuriance, almost hiding her graceful form, bent o’er him; and as her -gaze met not the answering smile of kindness and protection, to which -from infancy it was wont, but the stern, calm, sharpened features, -in their icy stillness; then, as with frantic sobs, her exquisitely -feminine, almost childish countenance, streaming with tears, was lifted -upwards, and her hands wringing with anguish,—then uttered in deep -convulsive bitterness, that “_Ai Jesus!_” in smothered tones, again -struck upon my startled ear. Long silence followed, unbroken save by -sobs, as, sunk by its side, they embraced the still, unconscious ashes. -Slowly the deep grave voices of the monks rose in solemn tones, and as -their mournful chant sank into deep bass, at intervals was it taken -up by a single female voice in the choir, which, high above the organ -tones, with surpassing sweetness, ascended higher, higher, until every -nook in the lofty arches above, appeared filled and overflowing with the -rich melody: then, descending lower—lower—lower—the imagination wildly -sought it in the passing wind. The monks drew near with uplifted and -extended hands, muttering in low tones their benediction; then crossing -themselves, encircling the corse on bended knees, with eyes lifted up to -heaven, uttered, in loud voices— - - “Ora pro illo—mater miserecordiæ,” - “Salvator Hominum—Ora pro illo”—— - -“_Ora pro illo_,” again rose like a startled spirit from the choir, in -that single female voice, rising with an intensity that made the old -walls re-echo the petition—and then, descending like the fluttering of a -wounded bird, it became less—less—and all was still. - -After a brief interval, leaning in apparent stupor upon the arms of the -affectionate retainers, the ladies slowly withdrawing, passed again the -chancel’s entrance, and the sacred procession raising the body with -melancholy chant, bore it to the lower part of the chapel. I heard the -clank of iron, as the rusty portal of the family sepulchre reluctant -turned upon its hinges;—and then rested from its human journey, that -corse forever. I made inquiries, but could learn nought about the actors -in the scene, other than that they were strangers,—a noble family from -the Havana;—that the father—invalid—had died in crossing the sea—and the -usual story of Spanish love, and jealousy, and revenge, had consigned -the son and brother, in the bloom of his days, by duel, to his grave; -and subsequently, that the mother and sister had closed the history of -the family, dying, broken-hearted, in the convent to which they had -retired. But, here we are, at the wharf. Our rapid journey approaches -now its termination. A few short hours, and we shall again be merged -in the ceaseless din of the city; the fair and tranquil face of nature -change for the anxious countenances of our fellow-men; the joyous carol -of the birds, the soft forest breeze, and the sea-beach ripple, for paved -streets and our daily round of duty and of labour. We have found “a -world beyond Verona’s walls.” Perhaps at future time we may again travel -it together. Till then, thanking you for your “right good and jollie” -company. Farewell! - - - - -OLD TRINITY STEEPLE. - -BROADWAY NEAR THE BOWLING-GREEN. - - -(Ground covered with ice—Furious storm of snow and sleet. Two gentlemen -becloaked and bemuffled, hurrying in different directions, come in full -contact, and mutually recoiling hasten to make apology.) - -“My dear Sir—a thousand pardons.”—“No, indeed Sir, ’twas I—I was the -offending party.”—“No, I assure you—I”—eh!—is it?—it is!—my old friend -the reader.—Why, my dear friend—you came upon me as if you had been -discharged from a Catapult—a Paixhan shot was nothing to you? But where -so fast in the fury of the storm—Not to Union Square! Heavens! Man, you -will never reach there living—Why in this horrid cold the spirits of -Nova-Zembla and Mont-Blanc are dancing in ecstacy about the fountains -in the Park, and the very cabs are frozen on their axles! Never think -of it. Come—come with me to my rooms hard by in State-street, and -on the word of a bachelor and a gentleman, I’ll promise to make you -comfortable. Come, take my arm—Whew! how this North-Wester sweeps around -the Battery. Here we are—This is the house—A real aristocratic old -mansion; is it not?—Enter, my dear friend—Run up the stairs—Holloa! -ho! Scip!—Scipio—Africanus—Angel of Darkness—come forth—come forth—Ay! -here you are. And you, too, shaggy old Neptune, your eyes sparkling with -delight, and your long tongue hanging out over your white teeth—down—you -old rascal—down sir—down. Now, is not this snug and comfortable—a good -roaring fire of hickory—none of your sullen red-hot anthracite for me. -How the cold wind howls through the leafless trees upon the Battery,—Draw -the curtains—Scip!—Come, bear a hand, take the reader’s hat and coat. -Invest him with the wadded damask dressing gown that Tom sent home -from Cairo—and the Turkish slippers—So—so—Now bring me mine; place the -well-stuffed easy chairs; roll the round table up between us—bring in -the lights. Now, reader, at your elbow, lo! provision for your wants, -material and mental—genuine old Farquhar and amber Golden Sherry—the -Chateaux I got years since from Lynch; and just opened is that box of -genuine Regalias, only smell! “Fabrica de Tabacos—Calle-a-Leon—En la -Habana, No. 14.” Is it not Arabia’s perfume! Ha! give me your smoking -Spaniard in his sombrero—e’er any a half-naked Bedouin of them all;—or -if indeed you do prefer it, there stands the Chiboque coiled up in -the corner, and the metaphysical German’s meer-schaum on the shelf. -There are biscuit and anchovies, and olives, “old Cheshire,” and other -inviting things for your wants physical, and for your mental, lo! uncut -and damp from the publishers with the regular new book smell—the North -American—Old Blackwood—the Quarterly—the Edinburgh Review—Diedrich in -his high back chair, the Sporting and other Maga’s, and by a slight -curve of thy vertebræ cervical, behold shining through yon glazed -doors—glowing in gold, dross to the gold within; the great master Bard of -England—Cervantes—the chosen spirits of Italia and Gaul—Irving—worthy to -be called Washington—Bryant—sweet poet—and Halleck, genuine son of the -voyagers in the Mayflower—and of literature much other goodly store. - -Now, Scip! Lord of the Gold Coast—throw more wood upon the fire—Ay! that -will do—my good old faithful servant—that will do—now take that pepper -and salt head of thine down to the kitchen hearth, there to retail thy -legend and goblin story, or ensconce thee in the corner at thy will—Ah! -hah, old Neptune—snug in thy place upon the hearth rug—thy nose lying -between thy outstretched paws as thou lookest intently in the fire—Bless -thine honest heart!—thinking, I warrant me, of the beautiful child whom -thou didst leap the Battery bridge to save. How bravely thou didst bear -the little sufferer up on the fast rushing tide. The grateful father -would have bought thee for thy weight in gold, as thou didst lie panting -and half exhausted—but look not so wistfully my dog—a sack of diamonds -could not purchase thee—no—never do we part till death steps in between -us—and, by my faith, an’ thou goest first, thou shalt have Christian -burial. - -Now, dear reader, as thou reclinest comfortably in that big arm chair, -thy feet in Ottoman slippers resting on the fender, the blue smoke of -thy cigar wreathing and curling around thy nose, as it ascends in placid -clouds, and floats in misty wreaths above thy forehead—the glass of -Chateaux, like a ruby resting upon its slender stem, light, quivering at -thy elbow, and that open Blackwood upon thy knee—dost not—confess it—dost -not feel more kind and charitable, than if, with benumbed fingers, thou -wert following a frozen visage to thy distant mansion, in the great -city’s far purlieus— - -But, heaven guard us! how savagely the tempest roars and howls around -the chimney tops—Good angels preserve the poor mariner as he ascends -the ice-clad rigging—lays out upon the slippery yard—and handles with -frost-benumbed fingers the rigid canvass folds. Ah! I recollect it was -in just such a night as this, a few years since—years that have rolled -past into retrograde eternity, that I was seated in that same arm chair, -in the same bachelor independence, the fire burning just as brightly—the -curtains as snugly drawn—my beautiful Flora looking down with the same -sweetness from her frame above the mantel—my snow white Venus between the -piers—the Gladiator stretching forth his arm in just such proud defiance -from his pedestal—my Rembrandt—Claude—and Rubens flickering in softness -in the firelight—the Fornarina and St. Cecilia with vase of incense -clasped, and upturned eyes of deep devotion, hanging in the same placid -stillness between their silken tassels, and that Æolian harp chiming just -such wild and fitful strains—’twas in just such a cold and inhospitable -night, that, sitting with my legs extended upon the fender, I fell into a -train of rather melancholy musings. - -The clock of St. Paul’s slowly doled out the hour of midnight, and -it seemed as if in the responsive, al-l’-s-w-e-l-l of the watchman, -rendered indistinct by the distance, the spirit of the hour was -bewailing in plaintive tones the annihilation of its being. Time’s -brazen voice announced to unheeding thousands—“Ye are rushing on -eternity.” I thought of my friends who had dropped off one by one, -from around me,—youth and old age had alike sunk into the abyss of -death—consumption—fever—palsy—had done their work; the slight ripple of -their exit had subsided, and all was still—as quiet and as beautiful as -if they had never been. Among others, was poor Louisa S——, in the prime -of her youth, and the bloom of her beauty. But one short week—she was -the pride of her friends, the idol of her husband;—in another, the slow -toll of the village bell announced her funeral. I shall never forget -the scene. The soft yellow light of the declining sun was streaming -through the lofty elms which bordered the rustic grave-yard, painting -their broad shadows on the velvet turf, as the procession of mourners -slowly wended their way among the mounds which covered the decaying -remnants of mortality. Leaning upon a tomb-stone near the fresh dug -grave, I had awaited its arrival. The bier was placed upon the ground—the -coffin-lid was thrown open, and friends looked for the last time upon -the beautiful face, pallid and sharp in death. Her dark hair was parted -upon her forehead,—but the dampness of death had deprived it of its -lustre, and her soft eyes were closed in the slumber from whence they -were never again to wake. I gazed long and painfully upon that face -which appeared to repose only in serene and tranquil sleep, while the -sobbing group reached forward to catch a last and parting glimpse of it -in its loveliness. Oh! I could not realize that the lovely form was still -forever—that those lips were to remain closed, till the day, when amid -whirlwinds and fire, they were to plead her cause before the Almighty. -The coffin-lid was replaced in silence—a suppressed whisper from the -sexton—a harsh grating of the cords, and the gaping pit received its -prey. While the clergyman in his deep and gloomy voice, was pronouncing -the burial service of the dead, I looked around upon the uncovered -group,—the mother and sister in unrestrained sobs, gave vent to their -anguish, but the husband stood, his eyes fixed upon the grave in deep and -silent agony. He moved not, but when the dead heavy clamp of earth and -stones fell upon the coffin, which contained the remains of all that was -dear to him, he gave a gasp, as if he had received a death wound—but that -was all;—the thick, convulsive breathing, and the swollen arteries upon -his temples, showed that his was the bitterness of despair. Ere long, his -wasted form beneath its own green hillock, rested at her side. - -I had sat some time, thinking “of all the miseries that this world is -heir to,” when gradually, my room became mazy, the tongs and fender were -blended into one—the fire slowly disappeared, and, to my utter horror and -astonishment, I found myself swinging upon the weather-cock of Trinity -Church steeple.—How I came there, I could not tell, but there I was. Far, -far below me, I saw the long rows of lamps in Broadway and the adjoining -streets, shining in lines of fire; while here and there the glimmer of -those upon the carriages, as they rolled along, resembled the ignis fatui -in their ghostly revels upon the morass. The bay lay in the distance, -glittering in the moonlight, a sea of silver, the islands and fortresses -like huge monsters resting upon its bosom. All nature appeared at rest. -An instant, and but an instant, I gazed in wild delight upon the scene; -but as the novelty vanished, the dreadful reality of my situation became -apparent. I looked above me—the stars were trembling in the realms of -space. I looked below, and shuddered at the distance—I tried to believe -that I was in a dream—but that relief was denied me. I grew wild with -fear—I madly called for help—I screamed—I yelled in desperation. Alas! -my voice could not be heard one half the distance to earth. I called -on angels—Heaven, to assist me,—but the cold wind alone answered, as -it rushed around the steeple in its whistle of contempt. As my animal -spirits were exhausted, I became more calm. I perceived that the slender -iron upon which the weather-cock was fixed was slowly bending with the -weight of my body, already benumbed with cold. Although it was madness, -I ventured a descent. Moving with extreme caution, I clasped the spire -in my arms—I slid down inch by inch. The cold sweat poured off my brow, -and the blood curdling in my veins, rushed back in thick and suffocating -throbs upon my heart. I grasped the steeple tighter in my agony—my nails -were clenched in the wood—but in vain; slip—slip—the steeple enlarged -as I descended—my hold relaxed—the flat palms of my hands pressed the -sides, as I slid down with frightful rapidity. Could I but catch the -ledge below! I succeeded—I clutched it in my bleeding fingers—for a -moment I thought that I was safe, but I swung over the immense height -in an instant; the wind dashed me from side to side like a feather. I -strove to touch the sides of the steeple with my knees—I could not reach -it—my strength began to fail—I felt the muscles of my fingers growing -weaker. The blackness of despair came over me. My fingers slid from the -ledge—down—down I plunged—one dash upon the roof, and I was stretched -motionless upon the pavement. - -A crowd collected around me. I heard them commiserating my fate. They -looked at me, and then at the steeple, as if measuring the distance from -whence I had fallen; but they offered me no assistance. They dispersed—I -slowly raised myself on my feet—all was cold and still as the grave. -Regions of ice—an immense transparent mirror, extended on every side -around me. The cold, smooth plain, was only measured by the horizon. -I found myself on skates;—I rushed along, outstripping the winds,—I -ascended mountains of ice,—I descended like a meteor—Russia, with her -frozen torrents,—Siberia with its eternal snows, were behind me,—miles -and degrees were nothing—on I rushed,—Iceland vanished,—with the speed of -a thunderbolt I passed Spitzbergen,—days, weeks expired, but still I sped -forward, without fatigue, without exhaustion. How delightfully I glided -along—no effort—no exertion—all was still, cold, and brilliant. I neared -the pole,—the explorers were slowly wending their tedious way,—they -hailed me, but I could not stop,—I was out of sight in an instant. I saw -an immense object swinging to and fro in the distance—it was the great -and mighty pendulum. As I neared it, a confused noise of voices broke -upon my ear,—mathematical terms echoed and re-echoed each other, like the -hum of a bee-hive. I was surrounded with winged chronometers, barometers -and magnets—plus, (+) minus (-) and the roots (√ √) were flying around me -in every direction, jostling each other without mercy. Great long-legged -compasses with knowing look were gravely listening to the measured tick -of prim chronometers, and groups of angles and parallelograms watched -the variations of the needle. Every instrument of science appeared -collected in solemn conclave, for great and mighty purpose,—but soon all -was hubbub and confusion. The compasses and Gunther’s scale had come to -blows. Angles and triangles, oblongs and cones, formed a ring around -them. Little cylinders and circles came rolling in from every quarter -to see the fun, and bottle-holding squares and cubes stood stoutly at -their champions’ sides, while electric jars mounted on a neighbouring -dial, in highest glee, spirited forth whole streams of snapping sparks -to incite them in the contest. The scale was down, and the compass -bestrode him in proud defiance; but the bottle-holders interfering, all -was instant uproar and confusion, and the fight soon became one common -melée. Pins flew about, and springs and wheels went whizzing through the -throng, but amid the tumult, suddenly appeared a huge electrical machine, -grinding wrathfully along, and soon the field was cleared, and nought was -seen save here and there some limping figure hobbling off in desperate -precipitation. But amid the uproar, the giant pendulum still swung -forward and backward with the noiseless motion of the incubus;—I neared -it and saw that the top of the huge rod was riveted by the pole star, -which shone with the intensity of the diamond. But—but— - -I saw the ship approaching among the distant icebergs—the great lordly -icebergs,—how they rolled and roared and ground against each other in -the heavy surge!—their huge sides now shining great sheets of silver—now -glancing with the deep blue of the precious sapphire, now quivering -in the sun’s rays, with all the hues of the grass-green emerald and -blazing ruby,—ha! I saw her—I saw the gallant ship threading her way -among them, as their castellated sides towered mountain-like above her. -I made one spring—one gallant spring—and catching by her top-mast, slid -down in safety to her decks. Her sails were spread widely to the winds -and recklessly we ploughed our course onward through the icy flood;—but -now her speed diminished—now we scarcely moved. The rudder creaked -lazily from side to side, and the long pennant supinely resting on the -shrouds, languidly lifted itself as if to peer into the dark flood, -and then serpent-like, settled itself again to its repose. A sullen -distant roar began to break upon my ear,—it increased,—our before quiet -bark, hastening, rushed onwards as if ashamed of her dull reverie; but -still there was no wind—the sea was smooth and placid, but the swelling -surge was thrown forward from her bows, by the increasing velocity -with which we dashed along. The rushing noise of waters increased, and -sounded like distant thunder; the white surges showed themselves in the -distance, leaping and jumping with frightful violence. I approached -the captain;—his gloomy brow—the ghastly paleness of the crew, as with -folded arms they stood looking in the distance, alarmed me. I eagerly -asked the cause of the appearances before me,—he answered not,—he stood -immoveable as a statue:—but, in a cold unearthly voice, a scar-marked -sailor groaned, “We are food for the Maelstroom!”—Can we not, I -franticly exclaimed—oh! can we not escape? Bend every sail—ply every -oar,—“Too late—too late,” echoed again the gloomy voice—“our doom is -sealed;”—and the finger of the speaker pointed to a dark fiendish figure -at the helm, who, with a low hellish laugh, was steering for the midst. -The raging waves boiled and roared around us,—our fated ship plunged -forward—a steady resistless power sucked us in,—on we were hurried to -our frightful goal. The whale—the leviathan, swept by us—their immense -bodies were thrown almost entirely in the air,—their blood stained the -foaming brine—they roared like mad bulls. The zigzag lightning in the -black canopy above us, was reflected in fiery showers from the spray—the -crashing thunder mingled with the yells of the struggling monsters—their -efforts were vain—more power had infants in giants’ hands,—the devouring -whirlpool claimed us for its own. On we were borne in unresisting -weakness—faster and faster,—circle after circle disappeared,—we were on -the edge of the furious watery tunnel,—we were buried in its depths,—the -long arms of the loathsome polypi stretched forward to seize us in their -foul embrace—but an unseen hand raised me. - -Green woods—gardens, fountains, and grottoes were around me. Beautiful -flowers—roses—hyacinths, and lilies clustering in immense beds, covered -the ground with one great gem’d and emerald carpet. The gorgeous tulip, -the amaranthus and moss rose vied with each other in fragrant rivalry, -and the modest little violet, claimed protection in the embraces of the -myrtle. Fountains poured mimic cataracts into their marble basins, or, -spouting from the mouths of sphinxes and lions, ascended in crystal -streams, irrigating with copious showers the party-coloured beds beneath. -The long vistas were shaded with the magnolia and flowering almond, while -snow-white statues watched the beautiful picture of happiness around. -Birds of variegated colour and splendid plumage were flying from tree to -tree, and it appeared as if in their sweet notes, and the fragrance of -the flowers, nature was offering up her incense to the Creator. - -I was invigorated with new life—I ran from alley to alley—delicious -fruits tempted my taste—the perfumes of Arabia floated in the earthly -paradise,—music floated around,—trains of beautiful girls moved in -graceful ballets before me,—their slender forms were clad in snow-white -robes,—their girdles gemmed with diamonds—their alabaster necks twined -with wreaths of roses.—A joyous laugh burst from them, as they danced—now -in circles—now advancing—now retreating. The circle opened,—a veiled -figure was in the midst,—I approached—the fairies disappeared,—the veil -was slowly lifted,—one moment—my Cora!—we were alone,—we wandered from -bower to bower—her small white hand with electric touch, was within my -delighted grasp,—her golden ringlets mingled with my raven locks—her -dark eyes melted into mine. I fell upon my knee—a cold and grizzly -skeleton met my embrace—the groups of houris were changed into bands of -shrivelled hags;—in place of wreaths of roses, their shrivelled necks -were covered with the deadly nightshade and dark mandragora—forked adders -and serpents twined upon their long and bony arms,—I shuddered,—I was -chained in horror to the spot,—they seized me—they dragged me downward -to the dank and noisome vault.—’Twas light as day—but ’twas a strange -light—a greenish haze—sickly and poisonous as if the deadly miasma of the -fens had turned to flame. The dead men with burning lamps were sitting -on their coffins,—their chins resting upon their drawn up knees, and as -I passed along the extended rows, their eyes all turned and followed me, -as the eyes of portraits from the canvass. Ha! what cadaverous unearthly -stare met me at every turn;—I looked on all sides to avoid them, but -still, where’er I turned, the ghastly muffled faces with their blanched -lips, and deep sunken eyes livid in their sockets, surveyed me with -frightful interest,—and that fierce old hag—how she preceded me—step -by step—her finger pointing forward, while her Medusa head was turned -triumphantly over her shoulder, with its infernal leer upon my cowering -form.—Worlds would I have given to have been out from among the ghastly -crew—but a spell was on me—and I hurriedly made the circuit of the -vault, like a wild beast in his cage. But the old knight, sitting grim -and ghastly as if by constraint, in the lone corner, his long grizzly -beard flowing o’er his winding-sheet,—O! how his cold grey eye glanced -at his long two handed sword before him, as I passed, as if to clutch -it,—I plucked the old greybeard for very ire—ha! what a malignant and -discordant yell did then salute my horror-struck senses,—I gave one bound -of terror—and burst the prison door—and—and— - -My noble white charger leaped clear of the earth, as he felt my -weight in the saddle,—I was at the head of an immense army—my bold -cuirassiers formed a moving mass of iron around me. The bugle sounded -the signal for engagement;—peal after peal of musketry flashed from -the dark masses,—the rattling reverberating roar rolled from right to -left,—the gaping throats of the cannon, announced in broad flashes, -the departure of their messengers upon the journey of death. On we -rushed—battalion on battalion,—we stormed the redoubt,—“Charge,” I -shouted,—“Charge the villains—men of the fifth legion—follow your -leader—hurrah—they bear back.”—I seized the standard from a fallen -soldier,—I planted it upon the blood-stained parapet—horrible -confusion!—the trenches were choked with dead—Hah! brave comrade -beware!—his bayonet is at thy shoulder—’tis buried in thy heart.—I will -revenge thee!—I dashed upon him,—we fought like tigers,—we rolled upon -the ground,—I seized my dagger—the bright steel glittered—thousands of -deep hoarse voices wildly roared—“The mine—the mine—beware—beware!” -Flash—roar—bodies—earth—rocks—horses—tumbrils,—all descending, covered -me—and—and - -I awoke—the fender and fire-irons upset with horrid din and clatter—the -table, its lights and tea-set hurled around—and myself with might and -main striving with mighty effort to get from beneath the prostrate wreck -which in my terror I had dragged above me.—Old Neptune, aghast, howling -in consternation, from the corner, while a group of fellow-boarders, half -dead with laughter and amazement, were staring through the open door in -wonder at such unusual uproar from the lodger in quiet “No. VI.” - - - - -LONG ISLAND SOUND. - - -But hark! Old Scipio is fast asleep and snoring like Falstaff behind -the arras. Now that old negro is as assuredly dreaming of witches, or -wrecks, or pirates, or ghosts, that have been seen flitting about the -burying-grounds and country church-yards at midnight, as he sits there. -He is somewhere between eighty and one hundred, he does not exactly know -which; but as your negro keeps no family record, it is safe to allow a -lee-way of some ten years in the calculation of his nativity. Of his -genealogy though, he is quite sure, for he proves beyond a doubt, that -he is the son of Job, who was the son of Pomp, who was the son of Caleb, -who was the son of Cæsar, who was the son of Cudjoe, who was caught in -Africa. His whole life has been passed in and about the shores of Long -Island Sound, and he is not only a veritable chronicle of the military -adventures that have been enacted upon its borders in the American wars, -but his head is a complete storehouse, stuffed to overflowing with all -sorts of legendary lore, of wrecks, of pirates, of murders and fights, -and deeds unholy—of massacres, bombardments and burnings, all jumbled -up in such inexplicable confusion, history and legend, truth and -fiction, that it is almost impossible to divide the one from the other. -Sometimes in the cold winter nights, when the storm is howling, as it -does now, I put him upon the track, and upon my word, the influence of -his gossip told in drowsy under tone is such, that I find it a matter of -serious question, whether the most monstrous things in the way of the -supernatural, are by any means matter of wonderment; and fully concede, -that men may have been seen walking about with their heads under their -arms, vanishing in smoke upon being addressed—that old fishermen have -sculled about the creeks and bays in their coffins, after they were dead -and buried—that gibbets are of necessity surrounded by ghosts, and that -prophecies and predictions, and witchcraft are, and must be true as holy -writ. - -Indeed, with all the sad realities of life about me, I find it refreshing -to have my soul let loose occasionally, to wander forth, to frolic and -gambol, and stare, without any conventional rule, or let, or hindrance -to restrain it. In how many adventures has that good old negro, quietly -sleeping in the corner, been my guide and pilot. In our shooting, and -fishing and sailing excursions, the shores of the Sound became as -familiar to us as our own firesides, and the dark black rocks, with their -round and kelp covered sides as the faces of old friends and acquaintance. - -At a little village upon its western borders I passed my school-boy -days, and there it was that the old negro, formerly a slave, but long -liberated and in part supported by my family, had his hut. There it was -that under his influence I thoroughly contracted the love of adventure -which, in the retrospect still throws a sort of world of my own around -me. All sport, whether in winter or summer, night or day, rain or shine, -was alike to me the same, and sooth to say, if sundry floorings, for -truant days had been administered to Old Scip instead of me, the scale -of justice had not unduly preponderated; for his boats, and rods, and -nets, to say nothing of his musket which had belonged to a Hessian, and -the long bell-mouthed French fusee were always sedulously and invitingly -placed at my control. The old negro was sure to meet me as I bounded -from the school-room with advice of how the tides would serve, and how -the game would lie, and his words winding up his information in a low -confidential under-tone still ring upon my ear, “P’rhaps young massa like -to go wid old nigger.” - -His snug little hut down at the Creek side was covered and patched and -thatched with all the experiments of years to add to its warmth and -comfort. Its gables and chimney surmounted with little weather-cocks -and windmills spinning most furiously at every whiff of wind, its sides -covered with muskrat and loon skins nailed up to dry, and fishing rods -and spears of all sizes and dimensions piled against them, the ducks -and geese paddling about the threshold and his great fat hog grunting in -loving proximity to the door way, while its interior was garnished with -pots and kettles, and other culinary utensils; the trusty old musket -hanging on its hooks above the chimney place; the fish nets and bird -decoys lying in the corners, and the white-washed walls garnished and -covered with pictures, and coloured prints of the most negro taste indigo -and scarlet,—naval fights—men hanging on gibbets,—monstrous apparitions -which had been seen—lamentable ballads, and old Satan himself in -veritable semblance, tail, horns and claws, precisely as he had appeared -in the year Anno Domini, 1763; and under the little square mahogany -framed fly specked looking-glass, his Satanic Majesty again in full -scarlet uniform as British Colonel with a party of ladies and gentlemen -playing cards, his tail quietly curled around one of the legs of his arm -chair, and the horse hoof ill disguised by the great rose upon his shoe. -But Scip’ was safe against all such diabolic influence, for he had the -charmed horse shoe firmly nailed over the entrance of his door. - -Oh! how often have I silently climbed out of my window and stealthily -crept down the ladder which passed it, long and long before the dawn, -with my fowling piece upon my shoulder, and by the fitful moonlight -wended, half scared, my way through the rustic roads and lanes, leaping -the fences, saturated to the middle with the night-dew from the long -wet grass, the stars twinkling in the heavens, as the wild scudding -clouds passed o’er them, and nothing to break the perfect stillness. How -often at such times have I stopped and stared at some suspicious object -looming up before me, till, mustering courage, I have cocked my piece and -advancing at a trail, discovered in the object of my terror, a dozing -horse, or patient ox, or cow quietly ruminating at the road side. - -How often have I sprung suddenly aside, my hair standing on end, as a -stealthy fox or prowling dog rushed by me into the bushes, and felt -my blood tingle to my very fingers’ ends, as some bird of prey raised -himself with an uneasy scream and settled again upon the tree tops, as I -passed beneath. How I used to screw my courage up, as with long strides -and studiously averted eyes, I hurried past the dreaded grave yard; and -as I came upon the borders of the winding creek, and walked splashing -through its ponds and shallows, how would I crouch and scan through the -dim light to catch a glimpse of some stray flock of ducks or teal, that -might be feeding upon its sedges. How would I bend and stoop as I saw -them delightfully huddled in a cluster, till getting near I would find an -envious bend of long distance to be measured before I could get a shot. -How patiently would I creep along—and stop—and crouch—and stop, till -getting near, and nearer—a sudden slump into some unseen bog or ditch -would be followed by a quick “quack”—“quack”—and off they’d go—far out -of reach of shot or call. But all would be forgotten when I reached the -old Negro’s hut. There a hot corn cake and broiled fish or bird, was -always on the coals to stay my appetite—and then off we’d sally to the -Bar to lie in wait for the wild fowl as they came over it at day break. -The snipe in little clouds would start up with their sharp “pewhit” -before us, as we measured the broad hard flats left damp and smooth -by the receding tide; the Kildare with querulous cry would wing away -his flight, and the great gaunt cranes, looming, spectre-like, in the -moonlight, sluggishly stalking onwards, would clumsily lift their long -legs in silence as we advanced, and fan themselves a little farther from -our proximity. - -Arriving, we would lay ourselves down, and on the stones await the -breaking of the dawn, when the wild-fowl feeding within the bay arise -and fly to the south-ward over it. Dark objects, one after another, -would glide by us, and in silence take their places along the bar, bent -on the same sport that we were awaiting, and nothing would break the -stillness save the gentle wash and ripple of the waves upon the sands, -or the uneasy and discordant cry of the oldwives, feeding on the long -sedge within the wide-extended bay. The stars would ere long begin to -fade, the east grow grey, then streaked with light, and every sportsman’s -piece be cocked with eager expectation. A flash—a puff of smoke at the -extreme end, showed that a flock had risen, and simultaneously birds -would be seen tumbling headlong. As the astonished flock glanced along -the bar—flash—flash—puff—bang, would meet them, their numbers thinning -at each discharge, till passing along the whole line of sportsmen, -they would be almost annihilated; or wildly dashing through some wider -interval in the chain of gunners, they would cross the bar and escape -in safety. Then as the light increased followed the excitement; the -birds getting up in dense flocks, all bent in one direction, a complete -feu-de-joie saluted them—flash—flash—flash—the reports creeping slowly -after, the wild-fowl tumbling headlong, some into the water, and some -upon the sportsmen; while here a gunner, dropping his piece, might be -seen rushing in up to his neck recklessly after his victim, and there -some staunch dog’s nose just above the surface, unweariedly pursuing the -wing-broken sufferer, which still fluttered forward at his near approach. -Ah, ha! that—that was sport. Hundreds of wild-fowl, from the little -graceful teal to the great fishy loon and red-head brant, were the fruits -of the morning’s adventure. And what a contrast the sparkling eyes and -glowing faces of the elated sportsmen to the city’s pale and care-worn -countenances. They were a true democracy, white man, and black, and -half-breed, the squire and the ploughman, all met in like equality. - -Among the sportsmen on the bar at the season that I have just described, -there was always found a tall, gaunt, and extremely taciturn old Indian, -who passed among the people by the name of “Pequot.” His hut was about a -mile beyond Scipio’s, on the same creek, and like him, he obtained his -support mainly by the fruits of his hunting and fishing. Now and then, in -the harvest, or when the game was scarce, he would assist the farmers in -their lighter work, receiving, with neither thanks nor stipulation, such -recompense as they saw fit to make; and sometimes, in the cold depths -of winter, he would appear, and silently sitting at their firesides, -receive, as a sort of right, his trencher at their tables. He was so kind -in his assistance, and so inoffensive to all around him, that he was -always sure of welcome. But there was a marked feature in his character, -and one most unusual to the Indian’s nature, which was his dislike, -almost to loathing, of ardent spirits. He was a great deal at Scipio’s -hut, and I was strongly struck (boy as I was) with the harmony which -subsisted between two characters so apparently dissimilar—the sullen, -almost haughty Indian, and the light-hearted, laughter-loving negro; but -there was a sort of common sympathy—of oppression, I suppose—between -them, for they always assisted one another; and sometimes I have known -them gone for days together in their fishing expeditions on the Sound. -All the information that Scipio could give me about him, was that he had -been the same ever since he had known him, that he was supposed to have -come in from some of the Western tribes, and that from his haunting a -great deal about a neighbouring swamp, where the gallant tribe of Pequots -had, long years before, been massacred by fire and sword, the people -had given him the name of Pequot. Whatever he was, he was a noble old -Indian; the poetry of the character was left, while contact with the -whites, and the kind teachings of the Moravians had hewn away the sterner -features of the savage. I remember that I used to look at him, with all a -boy’s enthusiasm, admiring him with a mingled sense of sympathy and awe. -Even old Scip showed him habitual deference, for there was a melancholy -dignity about him; and his words, short and sententious, were delivered -with scrupulous exactness. I recollect once being completely taken aback -by the display of a sudden burst of feeling, which completely let me into -his ideal claims and imaginary pretensions. - -There was a good-natured old Indian, by the name of Pamanack, belonging -to one of the tribes which still clung to Long Island, in the vicinity of -Montaukett, who occasionally made his appearance off old Scip’s hut, in -the Sound, in his periogue, accompanied by some half dozen long-legged, -straight-haired, copper-coloured youths, his descendants. They every now -and then came cruising along the various fishing-grounds, and always, -when in the vicinity of Scip, the old Indian would pay him a visit, -and receive a return for the hospitality paid to the black man, when, -in his similar excursions, he got as far eastward as Montaukett. On the -particular occasion to which I have alluded, old Pamanack had drank more -than was good for him, when the Pequot presented himself silently at the -door of Scipio’s hut, and leaning upon his long ducking-gun, looked in -upon the group. After a few words of recognition passed between them, -Pamanack held out his black bottle, and invited the visiter to drink. -Pequot drew himself up to his extreme height, and for a moment there was -a mingled expression of loathing, abhorrence, and ferocity, flashing -from his countenance that showed that his whole Indian’s nature was -in a blaze; but it was only momentary, for in another, the expression -vanished from his countenance, the habitual melancholy resumed its place -upon his features, and the words fell slowly, almost musically, from his -lips:—“The fire water—the fire water—ay, the same—the Indian and his -deadly enemy.” Then looking steadily at Pamanack, as he held the bottle -still towards him:—“Pequot will not drink. Why should Pamanack swallow -the white man’s poison, and with his own hands dig his grave? - -“Pamanack is not alone! His squaw watches at the door of his wigwam, -as she looks out upon the long waves of the ocean tumbling in upon the -shores of Montaukett. His young men gather about him and catch the -tautug from its huge beetling rocks, and tread out the quahog from -its muddy bed. His old men still linger on the sandy beach, and their -scalp-locks float wildly in the fresh sea-breeze. Pamanack has yet a -home:—but Pequot—he is the last of his race. He stands on the high hills -of Tashaway, and he sees no smoke but that from the wigwams of the Long -Knives. He moves in silence along the plains of Pequonnuck,—but the -fences of the pale faces obstruct his progress. His canoe dances at the -side of the dripping rocks,—but the cheating white men paddle up to his -side. His feet sink in the ploughed field,—but it is not the corn of the -red man. His squaw has rolled her last log, and lies cold in her blanket. -His young men,—the fire water and fire dust have consumed them. Pequot -looks around for his people—where are they? The black snake and muskrat -shoot through the water as his moccasin treads the swamp, where their -bones lie, deep covered from the hate of their enemies. Pequot is the -last of his race! Pamanack is good, but the heart of Pequot is heavy. -He cannot drink the fire water, for his young men have sunk from its -deadly poison, as the mist-wreath in the midday sun. The good Moravians -have told him that it is bad—and Pequot will drink no more—for his race -is nearly run. Pequot will sit on the high rocks of Sasco, and his robe -shall fall from his shoulders as his broad chest waits the death-arrow -of the Great Spirit. There will he sit and smoke in silence as he looks -down upon the deserted hunting-grounds of his fathers. Pequot’s heart is -heavy,—Pequot will not drink.” As he finished the last words, he abruptly -turned, and was soon far distant on the sands, moving towards the high -hill of which he had spoken. The Great Spirit was kind to him, for a few -years after he was found stark and stiff, frozen to death on the very -rocks to which he had alluded. As for old Pamanack, he did not appear to -hold the fire water in such utter abhorrence; for, taking a long swig at -the bottle, his eye following the retiring form of the Pequot, he slowly -muttered, “Nigger drink—white man drink—why no Indian drink too?” - -But the Sound! the Sound! Oh! how many delightful reminiscences does the -name bring to my recollection. The Sound! with its white sand banks, -and its wooded shores—its far broad bosom, covered with fleets of sails -scudding along in the swift breeze in the open day, and its dark waves -rolling and sweeping in whole streams of phosphorescent fire from their -plunging bows as they dash through it in the darkness of midnight. -The Sound! redolent with military story. The Sound! overflowing with -supernatural legend and antiquated history. Oh! reader, if you had been -cruising along its shores from infancy, as I have, if you had grown up -among its legends, and luxuriated in its wild associations,—if you had -spent whole days on its broad sand beaches, watching the gulls as they -sailed above you, or the snipe as they ran along on the smooth hard -flats,—if you had lain on the white frozen snows on its shore in the -still nights of mid-winter, your gun by your side, gazing till your soul -was lost in the blue spangled vault, as it hung in serene and tranquil -grandeur above you, your mind, in unconscious adoration, breathing whole -volumes of gratitude and admiration to the great God that gave you -faculties to enjoy its sublimity; and in the stillness, unbroken save by -the cry of the loon as he raised himself from the smooth water, seen in -every sail moving in silence between you and the horizon the “Phantom -Ship,” or some daring bucaneer, and in every distant splash heard a deed -of darkness and mystery, then could you enter into my feelings. - -Oh! to me its black rocks and promontories, and islands, are as familiar -as the faces of a family. Are there not the “Brothers,” unnatural that -they are, who, living centuries together, never to one another have -as yet spoken a kindly word,—and the great savage “Executioners,” and -“Throgs,” and “Sands,” and “Etons,” all throwing hospitable lights from -their high beacon towers, far forward, to guide the wandering mariner; -and the “Devil’s Stepping-stones,” o’er which he bounded when driven -from Connecticut; and the great rocks too, inside of Flushing bay on -which he descended, shivering them from top to bottom as he fell. And -are there not the “Norwalk Islands,” with their pines—“Old Sasco,” -with her rocks,—“Fairweather,” with the wild bird’s eggs deep buried -in her sands,—and the far-famed fishing-banks off the “Middle ground.” -Ay! and is it not from the fierce boiling whirlpools of the “Gate” “to -Gardiners,” and the lone beacon tower of “Old Montaukett,” one continuous -ground of thrilling lore and bold adventure. In her waters the “Fire -ship” glared amid the darkness, her phantom crew, like red hot statues, -standing at their quarters, as rushing onwards, in the furious storm, -she passed the shuddering mariner, leaving, comet like, long streams of -flame behind. Beneath her sands the red-shirted bucaneers did hide their -ill-gotten, blood-bespotted treasure. Ay! and ’twas on her broad bosom -that, with iron-seared conscience sailed that pirate, fierce and bold, -old Robert Kidd; and to this very day his golden hoards, with magic mark -and sign, still crowd her wooded shores. - -Hah! ha! how, were he waking, old Scipio’s eyes would upward roll -their whites, if he did but hear that name so dread and grim. If, from -very eagerness, he could utter forth his words, he would give whole -chapters—ay—one from his own family history—for Kidd’s men caught old -Cudjoe, his great ancestor, clamming on the beach off Sasco, and without -more ado carried him aboard. As the old negro was sulky, they tumbled -his well-filled basket into the galley’s tank, and incontinently were -about to run him up to dangle at their long yard-arm, when Kidd, who -was taking his morning “drink of tobacco” on his poop, roared out, -in voice of thunder, “Ho! Scroggs—boatswain—dost hang a black-a-moor -at my yard-arm, where so many gentlemen have danced on nothing?—In -the foul devil’s name, scuttle the goggled-eyed fiend to the sharks -overboard,”—and overboard he went, but diving like a duck, he escaped -their firelocks’ quick discharge, and reached the shore in safety. - -Ay! and his deep buried treasures! Where went the gold dust from the -coast of Guinea?—the gems from Madagascar?—where the dollars and -doubloons pirated from the Spanish galleons?—the broken plate and -crucifixes from the shores of Panama?—and where the good yellow gold, -stamped with the visage of his most gracious majesty?—where! where, but -on the haunted borders of this very Sound. Why, the very school-boys, -playing in the woods upon its shores, know when the earth doth hollow -sound beneath their feet, that Kidd’s treasure’s buried there. Do they -disturb it? No—not they—they know too well the fierce and restless spirit -that guards the iron pot. Didst ever hear the brave old ballad—“_As -he sail’d, as he sail’d?_” It’s a glorious old ballad—it’s a true old -ballad—and a time-honoured old ballad—it gives his veritable history. It -has been printed in black letter, and sung time out of mind. It has been -chanted by the old tars in sultry calms of the tropics, and the greasy -whalers have kept time to it over their trying kettles on the smooth -Pacific. It has been sung amid the icebergs of Greenland, and heard on -the coast of New Holland; the spicy breezes of Ceylon have borne it among -the sleeping tigers in their jungles, and the Hottentots have pulled -tighter their breech-cloths as they have listened to its tones. The -Chinese, and the Turks, and the Dutchmen, and the Danes, and every thing -human within the smell of salt water, have heard it,—ay! and that too in -the rich manly tones of the English and American sailors. Ho! Scip!—wake -from out thy corner, and give us the old ballad. Shades of red-capped -bucaneers!—fierce negro slavers!—spirits of the gallant men who fought -the British on her shores!—desperate old Kidd in person!—we conjure -you—we conjure you—arise and hover around us, whilst we chaunt the lay. -Ho! Scipio!—the old ballad, as it stood smoke-blacked, and grimed upon -thy cabin’s walls—ay! that is it—and in tones which chimed well in unison -with the dreary storm and howling blast without. - - -“YE LAMENTABLE BALLAD, AND YE TRUE HISTORIE OF CAPTAINE ROBERT KIDD, WHO -WAS HANGED IN CHAINS AT EXECUTION DOCK, FOR PIRACY AND MURDER ON YE HIGH -SEAS.” - -[Sidenote: He calleth upon the captains:] - - You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, hear our cries, - You captains bold and brave, hear our cries, - You captains brave and bold, tho’ you seem uncontroll’d, - Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls, lose your souls, - Don’t for the sake of gold lose your souls. - -[Sidenote: He stateth his name and acknowledgeth his wickedness:] - - My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - My name was Robert Kidd, when I sail’d, - My name was Robert Kidd, God’s laws I did forbid, - And so wickedly I did, when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He beareth witness to the good counsel of his parents:] - - My parents taught me well, when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - My parents taught me well, when I sail’d, - My parents taught me well to shun the gates of hell, - But against them I rebell’d when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He curseth his father and his mother dear:] - - I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - I cursed my father dear, when I sail’d, - I cursed my father dear and her that did me bear, - And so wickedly did swear, when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And blasphemeth against God:] - - I made a solemn vow when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - I made a solemn vow when I sail’d, - I made a solemn vow, to God I would not bow, - Nor myself one prayer allow, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He burieth the Good Book in sand:] - - I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d, when I sail’d, - I’d a Bible in my hand when I sail’d, - I’d a Bible in my hand by my father’s great command, - And I sunk it in the sand, when I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And murdereth William Moore:] - - I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I murdered William Moore, as I sail’d, - I murdered William Moore, and left him in his gore, - Not many leagues from shore as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And also cruelly killeth the gunner.] - - And being cruel still, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - And being cruel still, as I sail’d, - And being cruel still, my gunner I did kill, - And his precious blood did spill, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: His mate, being about to die, repenteth and warneth him in his -career.] - - My mate was sick and died as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - My mate was sick and died as I sail’d, - My mate was sick and died, which me much terrified, - When he called me to his bedside as I sail’d. - - And unto me he did say, see me die, see me die, - And unto me did say see me die, - And unto me did say, take warning now by me, - There comes a reckoning day, you must die. - - You cannot then withstand, when you die, when you die, - You cannot then withstand when you die, - You cannot then withstand the judgments of God’s hand, - But bound then in iron bands, you must die. - -[Sidenote: He falleth sick, and promiseth repentance, but forgetteth his -vows.] - - I was sick and nigh to death, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I was sick and nigh to death as I sail’d, - And I was sick and nigh to death, and I vowed at every breath - To walk in wisdom’s ways as I sail’d. - - I thought I was undone as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I thought I was undone as I sail’d, - I thought I was undone and my wicked glass had run, - But health did soon return as I sail’d. - - My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - My repentance lasted not, as I sail’d, - My repentance lasted not, my vows I soon forgot, - Damnation’s my just lot, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He steereth thro’ _Long Island_ and other Sounds.] - - I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I steer’d from Sound to Sound, as I sail’d, - I steer’d from Sound to Sound, and many ships I found - And most of them I burn’d as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He chaseth three ships of France.] - - I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships from France, as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships from France, to them I did advance, - And took them all by chance, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: And also three ships of Spain.] - - I spy’d three ships of Spain, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships of Spain as I sail’d, - I spy’d three ships of Spain, I fired on them amain, - Till most of them were slain, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He boasteth of his treasure.] - - I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - I’d ninety bars of gold, as I sail’d, - I’d ninety bars of gold, and dollars manifold, - With riches uncontroll’d, as I sail’d. - -[Sidenote: He spyeth fourteen ships in pursuit, and surrendereth.] - - Then fourteen ships I saw, as I sail’d, as I sail’d, - Then fourteen ships I saw as I sail’d, - Then fourteen ships I saw and brave men they are, - Ah! they were too much for me as I sail’d. - - - Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die, I must die, - Thus being o’ertaken at last, I must die, - Thus being o’ertaken at last, and into prison cast, - And sentence being pass’d, I must die. - -[Sidenote: He biddeth farewell to the seas, and the raging main.] - - Farewell the raging sea, I must die, I must die, - Farewell the raging main, I must die, - Farewell the raging main, to Turkey, France, and Spain, - I ne’er shall see you again, I must die. - -[Sidenote: He exhorteth the young and old to take counsel from his fate:] - - To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die, and must die, - To Newgate now I’m cast, and must die, - To Newgate I am cast, with a sad and heavy heart, - To receive my just desert, I must die. - - To Execution Dock I must go, I must go, - To Execution Dock I must go, - To Execution Dock will many thousands flock, - But I must bear the shock, I must die. - - Come all you young and old, see me die, see me die, - Come all young and old, see me die, - Come all you young and old, you’re welcome to my gold, - For by it I’ve lost my soul, and must die. - -[Sidenote: And declareth that he must go to hell, and be punished for his -wickedness.] - - Take warning now by me, for I must die, for I must die, - Take warning now by me, for I must die, - Take warning now by me, and shun bad company, - Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die, - Lest you come to hell with me, for I must die. - - - - -GREEN-WOOD CEMETERY. - - [To the untiring exertions of Major D. B. Douglass, Messrs. - Joseph A. Perry, Henry E. Pierrepont, Gerrit G. Van Wagenen, - and a few other liberal minded gentlemen, the public are - indebted for the design and completion of this beautiful place - of repose for the dead. It is anticipated that ten miles of - avenue will be completed during the coming summer, and when the - whole is laid out, according to the proposed plan, that there - will be fifteen miles of picturesque road within its precincts. - Part of the battle of Long Island in the Revolution was fought - upon its grounds, and it is intended at no distant day, to - remove the remains of those that perished in the Prison Ships - to the Cemetery, where they will sleep undisturbed beneath an - appropriate monument. The views from Mount Washington, and - other eminences, within its precincts, embrace the entire - bay and harbour of New-York, with their islands and forts: - the cities of New-York and Brooklyn; the shores of the North - and East Rivers; New-Jersey, Staten Island, the Quarantine; - unnumbered towns and villages sprinkled over the wide expanse - of the surrounding country, and the margin of the broad - Atlantic, from Sandy Hook, to a distance far beyond the - Rockaway Pavilion. The fine old forest which covers the greater - part of the grounds, shrouding and almost concealing from - sight, several beautiful lakes and sheets of water suggested - the name, with which it has been consecrated, the Green-Wood - Cemetery.] - - -WHERE, THEN, IS DEATH!—and my own voice startled me from my reverie -as, leaning on my saddle-bow on the summit of Mount Washington in the -Greenwood Cemetery, I asked—_Where, then, is death!_ The golden sun of a -delicious summer’s afternoon was streaming o’er the undulating hills of -Staten Island lighting more brilliantly the snow-white villas and emerald -lawns:—the Lazaretto—its fleet gay with the flags of all the nations, was -nestling like a fairy city at its feet:—the noble bay before me was one -great polished mirror—motionless vessels with white sails and drooping -pennants, resting on its surface, like souls upon the ocean of Eternity, -and every thing around was bright and still and beautiful as I asked -myself the question—_Where, then, is death!_ - -The islands with their military works lay calm and motionless upon -the waters—the grim artillery, like sleeping tigers crouched upon the -ramparts and the castle’s walls—but the glistening of the sentry’s -polished musket, and the sudden clamorous roll of drums showed me, -that—_not there was death_. - -I turned.—The great fierce city extending as far as eye could reach—the -sky fretted with her turrets and her spires—her thousand smokes rising -and mingling with the o’erhanging-clouds;—as she rose above her bed of -waters, with hoarse continuous roar, cried to me—“_Look not here, not -here—for death!_” Her sister city, with her towers and cupolas—her grassy -esplanades surmounted with verdant trees and far extending colonnades -embowered in shrubbery,—from her high terraced walls, re-echoed the -hollow roar—“_Not here for death!_” - -The island lay extended far before me—its farms and towns—its modest -spires—its granaries—its verdant meadows—its rich cultivated fields—its -woods—its lawns—all wrapped in silence, but still its whisper softly -reached me—“_Not here—not here—is death!_”—E’en the great distant -ocean, closed only from my view by the far-reaching horizon, in sullen -continuous murmurs moaned—“_Not here is death!_” - -Where, then, I cried—_where, then, is death?_ I looked above me, and the -blue vault hung pure and motionless—light fleecy clouds like angels on -their journeys, alone resting on its cerulean tint,—around, the evening -breeze played calm and gently,—and beneath the flowers and leaves were -quivering with delight, while the incessant hum of insect life, arising -from the earth with ceaseless voice, still cried—“_No—no—not here is -death!_” - -Ah! said I, this beautiful world shall be forever, and there is—there -is no death—but even as I spoke, a warning voice struck with deep -solemnity upon my startled ear,—“Man that is born of woman, hath but a -short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down -like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in -one stay.”—And as I turned, the funeral procession—its minister and its -mourners passed onward in their journey with the silent dead. - -I looked after the retiring group, and again from beyond the coppice -which intervened, heard rising in the same deep solemn tones,—“Write, -from henceforth, blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith -the spirit, for they rest from their labours,”—and my soul cowered within -itself like a guilty thing, as it said—Amen. - -I looked again upon the scene before me and sighed,—e’en such is human -reason. That gorgeous sun shall set—the gay villas and verdant lawns,—the -crowded shipping,—the beautiful bay with all that rest upon its bosom, -shall soon be wrapt in darkness,—the gleaming watch-light disappear from -yon tall battlement, as the bugle sounds its warning note,—the great -fierce city be stilled in silence, while the beating hearts within her -midnight shroud, like seconds, answer her tolling bells upon the dial of -eternity,—and the insect myriads—the flowers and leaves—ay!—the great -heavens themselves, shall from the darkness cry—“_This is the portraiture -of death!_”—for the darkness and the silence are all that man can realize -of death. - -The hardy Northman with trembling finger points to the mouldering frame -work of humanity, and shudders as he cries—“_Lo! there is death!_”—and -the polished Greek smiles delightedly on the faultless statue of -the lovely woman with the infant sleeping on her breast, as he also -cries—“_Lo! there is death!_”—yet both alike with reverence do lay their -final offering before his gloomy shrine.—The squalid Esquimaux scoops -out the cavern in the never melting snows, for the frozen form whose -conflicts with the grizzly bear and shuddering cold are done—and the -mild Hindoo, with affection, feeds the funeral pyre, and as the fragrant -column does arise, cries—“Soul of my brother—immortal soul, ascend!”—The -red man, in the far distant prairie’s lonely wilds, pillows the head of -the warrior-chief upon his slain desert steed within its mound, while the -bronzed pioneer, throwing aside his axe and rifle, hastily dashes away -the tear as he inhumes beneath its flowery bed his scar-marked comrade’s -form. - -The secluded village hamlet, with pious care, within the quiet grove, -encloses a resting-place for its silent few, disappearing at long -intervals;—and here those great living cities have chosen this silent -city for their dead, falling like the forest leaves in autumn. - -For the great army, who must ere long, march forth to ground their arms -before the grim and ghastly Conqueror, ’twere difficult to find more -beautiful and lovely resting place. E’en the sad mourner lingers as -he beholds its broad and lovely lawns, stretched out in calm serenity -before him;—its sylvan waters in their glassy stillness; its antique -elms, arching with extended branches the long secluded lanes; its deep -romantic glens; its rolling mounds, and all its varied scenery, ere with -a softened sadness he turns him to his desolate and melancholy home. Oh! -spirits of our departed ones! We know that you have gone forth from your -human habitations, and that we shall behold your loved forms no more -forever. Oh! therefore will we lay your deserted temples within this -consecrated ground, and, in imagination, fondly see you sleeping still in -tranquillity beneath its green and silent sward. - -But lo! where upon the broad and verdant lawn, the loose clods and dark -black mould heaped carelessly aside, the narrow pit awaits, ere it -close again from light, its tenant in his dark and narrow house. The -sorrowing group collect around, and the pall slowly drawn aside, one -moment more exhibits to the loved ones, the pallid countenance of him -about to be hidden from their sight forever. The weeping widow, in her -dark habiliments, leans upon the arm of the stern, sad brother, her -little ones clinging to her raiment in mingled awe and admiration of -the scene before them. “Ashes to ashes”—how she writhes in anguish, as -the heavy clods fall with hollow unpitying jar upon the coffin lid—how -like a lifeless thing she hangs upon the supporting arm in which her -countenance is buried in agony unutterable; and see the little ones, -their faces streaming with wondering tears, clasping her hands; how in -happy ignorance, they innocently, with fond endearing names, still call -upon him to arise. - -But the narrow grave is filled—the mourning group have gone—the -evening shadows fall—the declining sun sinks beneath his gorgeous -bed in the horizon, and in the thickening twilight, the dead lies in -his mound—alone. The night advances—the stars arise, and the joyous -constellations roll high onward in their majestic journeys in the -o’erhanging heavens—but beneath—the tenant of the fresh filled grave, -lies motionless and still. The morning sun appears, the dew, like -diamonds, glitters on every leaf and blade of grass—the birds joyously -carol, and the merry lark, upon the very mound itself, sends forth his -cheerful note—but all is hushed, in silence, to the tenant who in his -unbroken slumber sleeps within. The Autumn comes, and the falling leaves -whirl withered from the tree tops, and rustle in the wind—the Winter, -and the smooth broad plain lies covered with its pure and spotless cloak -of driven snow, and the lowly mound is hid from sight, and shows not, in -the broad midday sun, nor e’en at midnight, when the silver moon sailing -onwards in her chaste journey turns the icicles into glittering gems, -on the o’erhanging branches as they bend protectingly towards it. The -Spring breathes warmly, and the little mound lies green again—and now -the mother bending o’er it, lifts the rose and twines the myrtle, while -the little ones in joyous glee from the surrounding meadows, bring the -wild flowers and scatter them in unison upon its borders. Oh! then!—were -consciousness within—then would the glad tenant smile. - -But let him, whose tears as yet fall not for any dear one beneath its -sod, ascend again with me the Mount, and with retrospective gaze behold -the living drama, which has passed before it. The great world around—the -stage—lies still the same; but the actors, all—all have passed onwards to -their final rest. Into the still gleaming past bend your attentive gaze. -Lo, the features of the scenery are still the same—the bay’s unruffled -bosom, and the islands; but no sail now floats upon its surface, no -gilded spires in the distance loom, nor does the busy hum of man reach -us, as listening we stand—nought we see but the far forest covering -the main and islands, even to the waters. The coward wolf howls in yon -distant glen—the partridge drums upon the tree tops—and the graceful deer -e’en at our sides browses in conscious safety. Yon light dot moving upon -the water?—’tis the painted Indian paddling his canoe. Yon smoke curling -on the shore beneath us?—it is the Indian’s wigwam—The joyous laugh -arising among the trees? It is his squaw and black-eyed children—the -Indian reigns the lord—reigns free and uncontrolled. - -But look again upon the waters floats a huge and clumsy galliot—its -gay and gaudy streamers flaunting in the breeze; how the poor savages -congregated on yonder point, gaze in wonder as it passes—’tis the Great -Spirit, and the quaint figure with the plumed hat, and scarlet hose -glistening with countless buttons, on its poop—some demi-god!—and as she -onward moves, behold the weather-worn seamen’s faces in her rigging, how -anxiously they return the gaze.—The forest children muster courage—they -follow in their light canoes.—The galliot nears the Manahattoes—they -ascend her sides—hawks, bells and rings, and beads, and the hot strong -drink are theirs;—their land—it is the white man’s.—See with what -confidence he ensconces himself upon the island’s borders—in his grasp, -he has the fish—the furs—the game—the poor confiding Indian gives him -all—and—behold the embryo city’s fixed! - -But see!—Is that the Dutch boor’s cabin at our feet?—Is that the -Indian seated on the threshold, while the Dutchman lolls lazily -within!—Where—where then is the Indian’s wigwam?—gone! - -Look up again—a stately fleet moves o’er the bay, in line of battle -drawn; the military music loudly sounds—dark cannon frown from within -the gaping ports, and crews with lighted matches stand prepared—they -near the Manahattoes, and—and—the Orange flag descends—the Dragon and -St. George floats from the flag-staff o’er the little town. Who is the -fair-haired man that drinks with the Dutchman at his cottage door, while -the poor Indian stands submissively aside?—“It is the Briton.”—I hear -the laugh of youth—sure ’tis the Indian’s black eyed brood?—“’Tis the -Englishman’s yellow haired, blue eyed children.”—Alas! alas! poor forest -wanderer—nor squaw—nor child—nor wigwam, shall here be more for thee. -Farewell—farewell. - -The little town swells to a goodly city—the forests fall around—the -farms stretch out their borders—wains creak and groan with harvest -wealth—lordly shipping floats on the rivers—the fair haired race -increase—roads mark the country—and the deer and game, scared, fly the -haunts of men.—Hah!—the same flag floats not at the Manahattoes!—now, -’tis Stars and Stripes—See!—crowding across the river men in dark -masses—cannon—muniments of war—in boats—on rafts—in desperate haste. -Trenches and ramparts creep like serpents on the earth—horsemen scour the -country—divisions—regiments—take position, and stalwart yeomen hurrying -forward, join in the ranks of Liberty!—Hear! hear the wild confusion—the -jar of wheels—the harsh shrill shriek of trumpets and the incessant roll -of drums—the rattling musketry—the sudden blaze and boom of cannon—it -is the roar of battle—it is the battle field!—Hear! hear the distant -cry—“St. George and merry England.”—“Our Country and Liberty.”—Ah! o’er -this very ground, the conflict passes—See! the vengeful Briton prostrate -falls beneath the deadly rifle—while the yeomen masses fade beneath the -howling cannon shot—and hark! how from amid the sulphurous cloud the -wild “hurrah” drowns e’en the dread artillery. - -The smoke clouds lazily creep from off the surface—the battle’s o’er and -the red-cross banner floats again upon the island of Manahattoes.—And now -again—the Stripes and Stars stream gently in the breeze. - -The past is gone—the future stands before us. Ay! here upon this very -spot, once rife with death, yonder cities shall lay their slain for -centuries to come—their slain, falling in the awful contest with the -stern warrior, against whom human strength is nought, and human conflict -vain. Years shall sweep on in steady tide, and these broad fields be -whitened with countless sepulchres—the mounds, covered with graves where -affection still shall plant the flower and trail the vine—in the deep -valleys, and romantic glens to receive their ne’er returning tenants; the -sculptured vaults still shall roll ope their marble fronts—beneath the -massive pyramid’s firm-fixed base, the Martyrs of the Prisons find their -final resting-place—and on this spot the stately column shooting high in -air, to future generations tell, the bloody story of yon battle-field. - -All here shall rest;—the old man—his silver hairs in quiet, and the -wailing babe in sweet repose—the strong from fierce conflict with fiery -disease, and bowing submissively, the poor pallid invalid—the old—the -young—the strong—the beautiful—all—here shall rest in deep and motionless -repose. - -Oh! Being!—Infinite and Glorious—UNSEEN—shrouded from our vision in -the vast and awful mists of immeasurable Eternity—CREATOR—throned in -splendour inconceivable, mid millions and countless myriads of worlds, -which still rushing into being at thy thought, course their majestic -circles, chiming in obedient grandeur glorious hymns of praise—God -of Wisdom,—thou that hast caused the ethereal spark to momentarily -light frail tenements of clay,—grant, that in the terrors of the awful -Judgment, they may meet the splendours of the opening heavens with -steadfast gaze, and relying on the Redeemer’s mediation, in boundless -ecstacy, still cry—WHERE—WHERE THEN IS DEATH! - -[Illustration] - - - - -APPENDIX. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - Note to the RESURRECTIONISTS.—Ghost in the Grave Yard. - - ” ” OLD KENNEDY, No. I.—Lieutenant Somers. - - ” ” OLD KENNEDY, No. III.—“The Parting Blessing.” - - ” ” OLD KENNEDY, No. IV.—Explosion at Craney Island. - - ” ” HUDSON RIVER.—Military Academy at West-Point. - - ” ” NIGHT ATTACK ON FORT ERIE.—⎧ The Dying Soldier. - ⎩ The Officer’s Sabre. - - ⎧ Detailed Statement of the Battle. - ⎪ Rainbow of the Cataract. - ⎪ The Day after the Battle. - ” ” LUNDY’S LANE.—⎨ The two Sergeants. - ⎪ Death of Captain Hull. - ⎪ Scott’s Brigade. - ⎩ Death of Captain Spencer. - - ” ” MONTREAL.—Military Insignia. - - ” ” LAKE GEORGE.—Attack on Fort Ticonderoga. - - ” ” BASS FISHING.—⎧ Crew of the Essex frigate. - ⎩ Mutiny on board the Essex. - - ” ” LONG ISLAND SOUND.—New-England Traditions. - - - - -APPENDIX. - - -_Note to the Resurrectionists._—GHOST IN THE GRAVE YARD.—In New-England, -most of the burying-grounds as they are called, are at some distance -from the villages, and generally neglected and rude in their appearance, -frequently overgrown with wild, dank weeds, and surrounded by rough -stone walls.—Dr. W., a physician, whose extensive practice gave him a -large circuit of country to ride over, relates that returning late one -night from visiting a patient who was dangerously ill, his attention was -attracted by a human figure clad in white, perched upon the top of the -stone wall of one of these rustic cemeteries.—The moon was shining cold -and clear, and he drew up his horse for a moment, and gazed steadily at -the object, supposing that he was labouring under an optical illusion, -but it remained immoveable and he was convinced, however singular the -position and the hour, that his eyesight had not deceived him. Being -a man of strong nerves, he determined to examine it, whether human or -supernatural, more closely, and leaping his horse up the bank of the road -he proceeded along the side of the fence towards the object. It remained -perfectly motionless until he came opposite and within a few feet, when -it vanished from the fence, and in another instant, with a piercing -shriek, was clinging round his neck upon the horse.—This was too much, -for even the Doctor’s philosophy, and relieving himself with a violent -exertion from the grasp, he flung the figure from him, and putting -spurs to his horse galloped into the village at full speed, a torrent -of ghostly lore and diablerie pouring through his mind as he dashed -along. Arousing the occupants of the nearest house, they returned to the -scene of the adventure, where they found the object of his terror,—a -poor female maniac who had escaped from confinement in a neighbouring -alms-house, wandering among the tombs. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Old Kennedy, No. I._—CAPT. SOMERS.[3]—The name of Somers, the -twin brother in arms of Decatur, shines brightly on the History of -American Naval Warfare; and the last desperate action which terminated -his short and brilliant career with his life, is stamped in colours so -indelible, that nothing but the destroying finger of Time can efface it -from its pages. After severe and continued fighting before Tripoli, the -Turkish flotilla withdrew within the mole, and could not be induced to -venture themselves beyond the guns of the Tripolitan Battery. The ketch -Intrepid was fitted out as a fire-ship, filled to the decks with barrels -of gunpowder, shells, pitch, and other combustible materials; and Capt. -Somers, with a volunteer crew, undertook the hazardous, almost desperate, -task, of navigating her, in the darkness of night, into the middle of the -Turkish flotilla, when the train was to be fired, and they were to make -their escape, as they best could in her boats. - -Lieutenants Wadsworth and Israel were the only officers allowed to join -expedition, which was comprised of a small crew of picked men. The -Intrepid was escorted as far as was prudent by three vessels of the -squadron, who hove to, to avoid suspicion, and to be ready to pick up the -boats upon their return: the Constitution, under easy sail in the offing. - -Many a brave heart could almost hear its own pulsations in those vessels, -as she became more and more indistinct, and gradually disappeared in the -distance. They watched for some time with intense anxiety, when a heavy -cannonade was opened from the Turkish batteries, which, by its flashes, -discovered the ketch determinedly progressing on her deadly errand. She -was slowly and surely making for the entrance of the mole, when the whole -atmosphere suddenly blazed as if into open day; the mast with all its -sails shot high up in the air; shells whizzed, rocket like, exploding in -every direction; a deafening roar followed and all sunk again into the -deepest pitchy darkness. The Americans waited—waited—in anxious—at last -sickening suspense. Their companions came not—the hours rolled on—no boat -hailed—no oar splashed in the surrounding darkness. The East grew grey -with the dawn—the sun shone brightly above the horizon, nought but a few -shattered vessels lying near the shore—the flotilla—the batteries—and -the minarets of Tripoli, gilded by the morning sunbeams, met their gaze. -Those noble spirits had written their history. Whether consigned to -eternity by a shot of the enemy, prematurely exploding the magazine, -or from the firing of the train by their own hands, must always remain -untold and unknown. - -[3] The U. S. Brig Somers, in which the late daring mutiny was suppressed -by the prompt and decided measures of Lt. Alexander Slidell McKenzie, was -named after this hero of the Tripolitan war. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Old Kennedy. No. III._—“THE PARTING BLESSING.”—An officer of -the Lawrence engaged in this desperate action informed the writer, that -he observed, in the latter part of the battle, the captain of one of the -guns, who was a perfect sailor, and remarkable for his neatness and fine -personal appearance, ineffectually endeavouring to work his gun himself, -after all its crew had fallen. He was badly wounded by a grape shot in -the leg; and although in that situation, he was supporting himself on -the other, while he struggled at the tackle to bring the piece to bear. -The officer told him that he had better leave the gun, and join one of -the others, or, as he was badly wounded, go below. “No—no, sir,”—said -the brave tar,—“I’ve loaded her, and if I’ve got to go below, it shan’t -be before _I give ’em a parting blessing_!” The officer then himself -assisted him in running the gun out of the port. The sailor, taking a -good and deliberate aim, discharged her into the British ship, and then -dragged himself down to the cockpit, fully satisfied with the parting -compliment that he had paid the enemy. General Jackson, during his -administration, granted the man a pension. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Old Kennedy. No. IV._—EXPLOSION AT CRANEY ISLAND.—One of the -oldest of the surgeons now in the navy, who was present when the British -were defeated in their attempt to cut out the Constellation at Craney’s -Island, in Hampton Roads, in the last war, relates the following anecdote. - -The fire of the Americans was so heavy, that the British flotilla was -soon obliged to retire, a number of their boats having been disabled -by the cannon shot—one, in particular, having been cut in two, sunk, -leaving the men struggling in the water for their lives. It was thought -that it contained an officer of rank, as the other boats hurried to her -assistance, and evinced much agitation until the individual alluded to -was saved. But to let the doctor tell his own story:— - -“Well, they retreated, and we made prisoners of those whose boats having -been cut up, were struggling in the water. Among others, there was a fine -looking fellow, a petty officer, who had been wounded by the same shot -that had sunk the boat; so I got him up to the hospital-tent, and cut off -his leg above the knee, and having made him comfortable, (!) walked out -upon the beach, with my assistant for a stroll. We had not gone far, when -we were both thrown upon our backs by a violent shock which momentarily -stunned us. On recovering ourselves, we observed the air filled with -cotton descending like feathers. We did not know how to account for the -phenomenon, till, advancing some distance farther, we found a soldier -lying apparently dead, with his musket by his side. I stooped down, and -found that the man was wounded in the head, a splinter having lodged -just over the temple. As I drew out the splinter, he raised himself, and -stared stupidly about him. I asked him what he was doing there?—“I’m -standing ground over the tent, sir,” he replied. What tent?—“Why sir, -the tent that had the gunpowder in it.” How came it to blow up—what set -it on fire?—“I don’t know, sir.” Did nobody come along this way?—“Yes, -sir; a man came along with a cigar in his mouth, and asked if he might -go in out of the sun; I told him, yes!—and he went in, and sat himself -down—and that is the last that I recollect, until I found you standing -over me here.” Upon going a few hundred feet farther, we found a part, -and still farther on, the remainder of the body of the unfortunate man, -who ignorantly had been the cause of the explosion, as well as his own -death. He was so completely blackened and burnt that it would have been -impossible, from his colour, to have distinguished him from a negro.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Hudson River._—MILITARY ACADEMY AT WEST-POINT.—West-Point, -with her majestic scenery—her savage mountains—the river winding at -their feet—her military ruins rising among the forest-trees—her fine -architectural edifices—her flag proudly floating from its staff against -the back-ground of pure blue ether—her bright and elastic youth, in all -“the pomp and circumstance of war”—now marching on the broad and verdant -plain, in glittering battalion—now as cavalry, spurring their snorting -horses in close squadron—now with light artillery hidden in the smoke -of their rapid evolutions—now calculating amid the bray of mortars, the -curving course of bombs—measuring the ricochetting shot bounding from -the howitzers—amid the roar of heavy cannon, watching the balls as they -shiver the distant targets.—West-Point, enveloped in its spicy mountain -breezes—West-Point—its romantic walks—its melodious birds, warbling in -ecstacy among its trees—its heroic monuments—its revolutionary relics—its -associations, past and present—is, to the tourist, poetry—but to the -cadet—sober, sober prose. Incessant study—severe drilling—arduous -examinations—alike amid the sultry heats of summer, and intense cold of -winter, mark the four years of his stay, with a continual round of labour -and application:—application so severe that health frequently gives way -under the trial. None but the most robust and hardy in constitution, can -sustain the fatigue and labour. But few, nursed in the lap of wealth, are -willing to undergo its hardships; yet, though the far greater part of -the number are from what are called the hardy, certainly not the opulent -part of the community; under the cry of aristocracy, the Academy is made -a standing mark for the attacks of the radicals in the Federal and State -legislatures. Of all the places of public instruction in the country—in a -national point of view—it is the most important; for while it furnishes -to the army a corps of officers acknowledgedly unsurpassed in military -and scientific attainments by that of any service in Europe—officers, -whose names are synonymous with modesty and honour, it is of incalculable -importance in furnishing to the country, commanders and instructors -for the militia in time of war, and engineers for the constant plans -of public improvement in peace. West-Point proudly boasts that not one -of her sons has ever disgraced himself, or his country, in the face of -the enemy. She can, with equal pride, point to almost every work of -importance in the country, and say, “There too, is their handywork.” -While the noble works of defence on the frontiers and sea-board bear -testimony to the talent and science of Totten, Thayer, and other -gentlemen of the corps of engineers, the railroads, aqueducts and canals -of the States bear equal witness to the energies of Douglass, McNeill, -Whistler, and other officers, who have entered the walks of private life. - -Well would it be in this disorganizing age, if, instead of prostrating -this, every State had within her borders a similar institution as a -nucleus of order, discipline, and obedience. The following extract of -a letter from an officer who stands high in the service, may not be -uninteresting to the reader. - - February 16, 1843. - - “I send you herewith a part of the information which you - required in your last letter. The Military Academy is a great - honour to the country, and is so understood abroad. I have - frequently heard foreign officers express their opinion, - that it was equal to any institution in Europe, and I was - particularly gratified when I was abroad, to find the English - officers so jealous of it. They seemed to understand very - distinctly, that, although the policy of the country prevented - our sustaining a standing army, that we had yet kept up with - the age in military science; and stood ready prepared with a - body of officers, well educated in scientific knowledge, to - supply a large army for efficient and vigorous operations. - - “The whole number of graduates at the Academy since its - foundation, is 1167. Of this number there have died in service, - 168. There have been killed in battle, 24. Of those wounded in - service, there is no record. The number of those who have died - since 1837, is 1 major, 17 captains, 21 first lieutenants, and - 9 second lieutenants. - - “The rank of those killed since 1837, was 1 lieutenant-colonel, - 2 captains, 3 first lieutenants, and 2 second lieutenants. - The rank of those killed previous to that time can only be - ascertained by great care in revising the Registers. The - enemies of the Academy have charged, that men have been - educated and resigned without performing service in the army. - This is not so. Besides, the term of service in the Academy, - where they are liable at any time to be called upon and sent to - the extremes of the Union, they are obliged by law, to serve - four years after they have graduated, and in fact, they seldom - do resign, unless they are treated unfairly by government, and - the proportion of resignations of officers appointed from - civil life, is much greater than from those that have graduated - at the Academy. A large number of resignations took place in - 1836, which was attributable to high salaries offered for civil - engineers, and to the general disgust which pervaded the army, - upon the constitution of two regiments of dragoons, when the - appointments were made almost exclusively from civilians, and - officers of long-standing and arduous service in the army found - themselves outranked by men of no experience, and who had done - no service. You can have no idea of the injustice which was - done on that occasion. The ambition of many of the officers was - broken down, and they retired in disgust.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Fort Erie._—THE DYING SOLDIER.—“On the day preceding the -night attack,” said the Major, “while the enemy were throwing an -incessant discharge of shot and shells into our works, I observed at a -little distance beyond me a group of people collected on the banquette -of the rampart; I approached and found that one of the militia had -been mortally wounded by a cannot shot, and that, supported by his -comrades, he was dictating with his dying breath his last words to his -family. “Tell them,” said he, “that—that—I d-i-e-d l-i-k-e a b-r-a-v-e -m-a-n—fig-h—fig-h-t—” and here his breath failed him, and he sunk nearly -away—but rousing himself again with a desperate exertion—”b-r-a-v-e -m-a-n—fight-in-g for—for—my c-o-u-n-try,”—and he expired with the words -upon his lips.” - - * * * * * - -_Night Attack on Fort Erie._—THE OFFICER’S SABRE.—The writer saw in the -possession of Major ——, a beautiful scimitar-shaped sabre, with polished -steel scabbard; the number of the regiment, (119th, he thinks,) embossed -on its blade, which one of the soldiers picked up and brought in from -among the scattered arms and dead bodies in front of the works on the -following morning. The white leathern belt was cut in two, probably -by a grape shot or musket ball, and saturated with blood. Whether its -unfortunate owner was killed, or wounded only, of course could not be -known. It was a mute and interesting witness of that night’s carnage—and -had undoubtedly belonged to some officer who had been in Egypt, and had -relinquished the straight European sabre, for this favourite weapon of -the Mameluke. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Attack on Fort Erie, and Battle of Lundy’s Lane._—These two -articles elicited the following reply from the pen of an officer of the -U. S. army, who has, alas! since it was written, fallen before the hand -of the grim tyrant, whose blow never falls but in death. The authenticity -of the statement can be relied upon, as the documents from whence it -was derived, were the papers of Major-General Brown, and other high -officers engaged in the campaign. It is proper to observe, that in the -rambling sketch of a tourist, where a mere cursory description was all -that was aimed at, the apparent injustice done to that gallant officer -and eminently skilful soldier, Major-General Brown, (who certainly ought -to have been placed more prominently in the foreground,) was entirely -unintentional. The officer alluded to was under the impression that -Colonel Wood’s remains were never recovered, and that consequently the -monument erected to his memory at West-Point does not rest upon them. -Much of the material of the two articles (eliciting these comments) was -derived from conversations with another highly accomplished and now -retired officer of the U. S. army; and as they were published without his -knowledge, the writer inserts the following reply made to the strictures -at the time: - - ... “Deeming that ‘a local habitation and a name’ may be - affixed to my friend the ‘Major,’ and that he may be considered - responsible for inaccuracies for which others alone are - accountable, I hasten to say, that in the description of the - battle at Lundy’s Lane, (with the exception of some of the - personal anecdotes,) the title is retained merely as a _nom de - guerre_ to carry the reader through the different phases of - the action. The description of the night attack on Fort Erie, - as well as that of the character and personal appearance of - Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, is, however, almost literally that - given at the fireside of my friend. The information received - from the British camp on the following morning, through a - flag, was, as near as could be ascertained, that Colonel - Wood had been bayonetted to death on the ground; and my - impression was that his body had been subsequently identified - and returned. But as your correspondent, apparently a brother - officer, speaks so decidedly, I presume he is correct. Far - more agreeable to me would it have been to have remained under - the delusion, that the bones of that gallant and accomplished - soldier slept under the green plateau of West Point, than the - supposition that even now they may be restlessly whirling in - some dark cavern of the cataracts. The account of the battle at - Lundy’s Lane was compiled from one of the earlier editions of - Brackenridge’s History of the Late War, (I think the third,) - the only written authority that I had upon the subject, and - from conclusions drawn from rambles and casual conversations - on the battle-ground. In how far a rough sketch, which was all - that was aimed at, has been conveyed from that authority, the - reader, as well as your correspondent, can best determine by - referring to the history alluded to.” The desperate bayonet - charge is thus described in that work, fourth edition, p. - 269-270. - - ... “The enemy’s artillery occupied a hill which was the key - to the whole position, and it would be in vain to hope for - victory while they were permitted to retain it. Addressing - himself to Colonel Miller, he inquired whether he could - storm the batteries at the head of the twenty-first, while - he would himself support him with the younger regiment, the - twenty-third? To this the wary, but intrepid veteran replied, - in an unaffected phrase, ‘I’ll try, sir;’[4] words which were - afterwards given as the motto of his regiment. - - ... “The twenty-third was formed in close column under its - commander, Major McFarland, and the first regiment, under - Colonel Nicholas, was left to keep the infantry in check. The - two regiments moved on to one of the most perilous charges - ever attempted; the whole of the artillery opened upon them as - they advanced, supported by a powerful line of infantry. The - twenty-first advanced steadily to its purpose; the twenty-third - faltered on receiving the deadly fire of the enemy, but was - soon rallied by the personal exertions of General Ripley. When - within a hundred yards of the summit, they received another - dreadful discharge, by which Major McFarland was killed, and - the command devolved on Major Brooks. To the amazement of the - British, the intrepid Miller firmly advanced, until within a - few paces of their line, when he impetuously charged upon the - artillery, which, after a short but desperate resistance, - yielded their whole battery, and the American line was in a - moment formed in the rear upon the ground previously occupied - by the British infantry. In carrying the larger pieces, the - twenty-first suffered severely; Lieutenant Cilley, after an - unexampled effort, fell wounded by the side of the piece which - he took: there were but few of the officers of this regiment - who were not either killed or wounded. - - “So far as I can recollect, the personal narrative of my friend - was as follows: Miller, quietly surveying the battery, coolly - replied—‘I’ll try, sir;’ then turning to his regiment, drilled - to beautiful precision, said, ‘Attention, twenty-first.’ He - directed them as they rushed up the hill, to deliver their fire - at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and to immediately - carry the guns at the point of the bayonet. In a very short - time they moved on to the charge, delivered their fire as - directed, and after a furious struggle of a few moments over - the cannon, the battery was in their possession. The words of - caution of the officers, ‘Close up—steady, men—steady,’ I have - heard indifferently ascribed to them at this charge, and at - the desperate sortie from Fort Erie. I am thus particular with - regard to the detail of this transaction, not that I think your - correspondent, any more than myself, regards it as of much - moment, but lest my friend should be considered responsible for - words which he did not utter. - - ... “To show with what secresy the arrangements were made - for the sortie, it is believed that the enemy was in utter - ignorance of the movement. To confirm him in error, a - succession of trusty spies were sent to him in the character - of deserters up to the close of day of the 16th; and so little - did the army know of what were General Brown’s plans for that - day, that even if an officer had gone over to the enemy, the - information he could have given must have been favourable to - the meditated enterprise, as no one had been consulted but - General Porter, and the engineers Colonels McRae and Wood. - - “At nine o’clock in the evening of the 16th, the - general-in-chief called his assistant adjutant-general, Major - Jones, and after explaining concisely his object, ordered - him to see the officers whom the General named and direct - them to his tent. The officers General Brown had selected - to have the honour of leading commands on the 17th came; he - explained to them his views and determinations, and enjoyed - much satisfaction at seeing that his confidence had not been - misplaced. They left him to prepare for the duty assigned to - them on the succeeding day. At twelve o’clock the last agent - was sent to the enemy in the character of a deserter, and - aided, by disclosing all he knew, to confirm him in security. - - “The letter, of which the following is an extract, was written - by General Brown to the Department of War early in the morning - of the 25th July, 1814: - - “‘As General Gaines informed me that the Commodore was in - port, and as he did not know when the fleet would sail, or - when the guns and troops that I had been expecting would even - leave Sackett’s Harbour, I have thought it proper to change my - position with a view to other objects.’ - - “General Scott, with the first brigade, Towson’s artillery, - all the dragoons and mounted men, was accordingly put in - march towards Queenston. He was particularly instructed to - report if the enemy appeared, and to call for assistance if - that was necessary. Having command of the dragoons, he would - have, it was supposed, the means of intelligence. On General - Scott’s arrival near the Falls, he learned that the enemy was - in force directly in his front, a narrow piece of woods alone - intercepting his view of them. Waiting only to despatch this - information, but not to receive any in return, the General - advanced upon him. - - “Hearing the report of cannon and small arms, General Brown - at once concluded that a battle had commenced between the - advance of his army and the enemy, and without waiting for - information from General Scott, ordered the second brigade - and all the artillery to march as rapidly as possible to his - support, and directed Colonel Gardner to remain and see this - order executed. He then rode with his aids-de-camp, and Major - McRee, with all speed towards the scene of action. As he - approached the Falls, about a mile from Chippeway, he met Major - Jones, who had accompanied General Scott, bearing a message - from him, advising General Brown that he had met the enemy. - From the information given by Major Jones, it was concluded to - order up General Porter’s command, and Major Jones was sent - with this order. Advancing a little further, General Brown - met Major Wood, of the engineers, who also had accompanied - General Scott. He reported that the conflict between General - Scott and the enemy was close and desperate, and urged that - reinforcements should be hurried forward. The reinforcements - were now marching with all possible rapidity. The Major-General - was accompanied by Major Wood to the field of battle. Upon - his arrival, he found that General Scott had passed the wood, - and engaged the enemy upon the Queenston road and the ground - to the left of it, with the 9th, 11th, and 22d regiments, and - Towson’s artillery. The 25th had been detached to the right - to be governed by circumstances. Apprehending these troops to - be much exhausted, notwithstanding the good front they showed, - and knowing that they had suffered severely in the contest, - General Brown determined to form and interpose a new line - with the advancing troops, and thus disengage General Scott, - and hold his brigade in reserve. By this time Captains Biddle - and Ritchie’s companies of artillery had come into action. - The head of General Ripley’s column was nearly up with the - right of General Scott’s line. At this moment the enemy fell - back, in consequence, it was believed, of the arrival of fresh - troops, which they could see and begin to feel. At the moment - the enemy broke, General Scott’s brigade gave a general huzza, - that cheered the whole line. General Ripley was ordered to - pass his line and display his column in front. The movement - was commenced in obedience to the order. Majors McRee and Wood - had rapidly reconnoitered the enemy and his position. McRee - reported that he appeared to have taken up a new position with - his line, and with his artillery, to have occupied a height - which gave him great advantages it being the key of the whole - position. To secure the victory, it was necessary to carry - this height, and seize his artillery. McRee was ordered by the - Major-General to conduct Ripley’s command on the Queenstown - road, with a view to that object, and prepare the 21st regiment - under Colonel Miller for the duty. - - “The second brigade immediately advanced on the Queenston - road. Gen. Brown, with his aids-de-camp and Major Wood passing - to the left of the second brigade in front of the first, - approached the enemy’s artillery, and observed an extended - line of infantry formed for its support. A detachment of the - first regiment of infantry, under command of Col. Nicolas, - which arrived that day, and was attached to neither of the - brigades, but had marched to the field of battle in the rear - of the second, was ordered promptly to break off to the - left, and form a line facing the enemy on the height, with a - view of drawing his fire and attracting his attention, while - Col. Miller advanced with the bayonet upon his left flank to - carry his artillery. As the first regiment, led by Major Wood - and commanded by Col. Nicolas, approached its position, the - commanding General rode to Col. Miller, and ordered him to - charge and carry the enemy’s artillery with the bayonet. He - replied in a tone of great promptness and good humour—‘It shall - be done, Sir.’ - - “At this moment the first regiment gave way under the fire - of the enemy; but Col. Miller, without regard to this - circumstance, advanced steadily to his object, and carried - the height and the cannon in a style rarely equalled—never - excelled. At this point of time when Col. Miller moved, the 23d - regiment was on his right, a little in the rear. Gen. Ripley - led this regiment: it had some severe fighting, and in a degree - gave way, but was promptly re-formed, and brought upon the - right of the 21st, with which were connected a detachment of - the 17th and 19th. - - “Gen. Ripley being now with his brigade, formed a line, (the - enemy having been driven from his commanding ground) with the - captured cannon, nine pieces in the rear. The first regiment - having been rallied, was brought into line by Lt. Col. Nicolas - on the left of the second brigade; and Gen. Porter coming up - at this time, occupied with his command the extreme left. Our - artillery formed the right between the 21st and 23d regiments. - Having given to Col. Miller orders to storm the heights and - carry the cannon as he advanced, Gen. Brown moved from his - right flank to the rear of his left. Maj. Wood and Capt. - Spencer met him on the Queenston road; turning down that road, - he passed directly in the rear of the 23rd, as they advanced - to the support of Col. Miller. The shouts of the American - soldiers on the heights at this moment, assured him of Col. - Miller’s success, and he hastened toward the place, designing - to turn from the Queenston road towards the heights up Lundy’s - Lane. In the act of doing so, Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer, who - were about a horse’s length before him, were near riding upon - a body of the enemy; and nothing prevented them from doing it - but an officer exclaiming before them, “They are the Yankees.” - The exclamation halted the three American officers, and upon - looking down the road they saw a line of British infantry drawn - up in front of the western fence of the road with its right - resting upon Lundy’s Lane. - - “The British officer had, at the moment he gave this alarm, - discovered Maj. Jesup. The Major had, as before observed, at - the commencement of the action, been ordered by Gen. Scott to - take ground to his right. - - “He had succeeded in turning the enemy’s left, had captured - Gen. Riall and several other officers, and sent them to camp, - and then, feeling and searching his way silently towards where - the battle was raging, had brought his regiment, the 25th, - after a little comparative loss, up to the eastern fence at - the Queenston road, a little to the north of Lundy’s Lane. - The moment the British gave Jesup notice of having discovered - him, Jesup ordered his command to fire upon the enemy’s line. - The lines could not have been more then four rods apart—Jesup - behind the south fence, the British in front of the north. - The slaughter was dreadful; the enemy fled down the Queenston - road at the third or fourth fire. As the firing ceased, - the Major-General approached Major Jesup, advised him that - Col. Miller had carried the enemy’s artillery, and received - information of the capture of Gen. Riall. - - “The enemy having rallied his broken forces and received - reinforcements, was now discovered in good order and in great - force. The commanding General, doubting the correctness of the - information, and to ascertain the truth, passed in person with - his suite in front of our line. He could no longer doubt, as a - more extended line than he had yet seen during the engagement - was near, and advancing upon us. Capt. Spencer, without saying - a word, put spurs to his horse, and rode directly up to the - advancing line, then, turning towards the enemy’s right, - inquired in a strong and firm voice, ‘What regiment is that?’ - and was as promptly answered, ‘The Royal Scots, Sir.’ - - “General Brown and suite then threw themselves behind our - troops without loss of time, and waited the attack. The enemy - advanced slowly and firmly upon us: perfect silence was - observed throughout both armies until the lines approached to - within four to six rods. Our troops had levelled their pieces - and the artillery was prepared,—the order to fire was given. - Most awful was its effect. The lines closed in part before the - enemy was broken. He then retired precipitately, the American - army following him. The field was covered with the slain, but - not an enemy capable of marching was to be seen. We dressed our - men upon the ground we occupied. Gen. Brown was not disposed - to leave it in the dark, knowing it was the best in the - neigbourhood. His intention, then, was to maintain it until - day should dawn, and to be governed by circumstances. - - “Our gallant and accomplished foe did not give us much time - for deliberation. He showed himself within twenty minutes, - apparently undismayed and in good order.” - -[4] The twenty-first carried the celebrated ‘_I’ll try, Sir_,’ inscribed -upon their buttons during the remainder of the war. - -Extract of a private letter from the writer of the above article, dated -January 15, 1841. - - ... “As to the fate of the gallant and accomplished Wood.—You - supposed a flag from the enemy reported he had been bayoneted - to death on the ground—like enough, but how did the enemy - recognise his body. Gen. Porter thinks he fell at the close of - the action at battery No. 1, but I never heard that any one saw - him fall.—His body never was recovered. Those of Gibson and - Davis, the leaders of the two other columns in Gen. Porter’s - command, were. - - “Soon after the war, McRee, one of the best military engineers - this country ever produced, threw up his commission in disgust - and died of the cholera at St. Louis. - - “From the time I lost sight of Gen. Scott in my narrative until - after the change referred to at the end of the narrative, Gen. - Scott with three of his battalions had been held in reserve. - The commander-in-chief now rode in person to Gen. Scott, and - ordered him to advance. That officer was prepared and expected - the call.—As Scott advanced toward Ripley’s left, Gen. Brown - passed to the left to speak with Gen. Porter and see the - condition and countenance of his militia, who, at that moment, - were thrown into some confusion under a most galling and deadly - fire from the enemy: they were, however, kept to their duty by - the exertions of their gallant chiefs, and most nobly sustained - the conflict. The enemy was repulsed and again driven out of - sight. But a short time, however, had elapsed, when he was - once more distinctly seen, in great force, advancing upon our - main line under the command of Ripley and Porter. The direction - that Scott had given his column would have enabled him in five - minutes, to have formed a line in the rear of the enemy’s - right, and thus have brought him between two fires. But in a - moment most unexpected, a flank fire from a party of the enemy, - concealed upon our left, falling upon the centre of Scott’s - command, when in open column, blasted our proud expectations. - His column was severed in two; one part passing to the rear, - the other by the right flank of platoons towards the main line. - About this period Gen. Brown received his first wound, a musket - ball passing through his right thigh and _carrying away his - watch seal_, a few minutes after Capt. Spencer received his - mortal wound.... - - “This was the last desperate effort made by the enemy to regain - his position and artillery.... - - “Porter’s volunteers were not excelled by the regulars - during this charge. They were soon precipitated by their - heroic commander upon the enemy’s line, which they broke and - dispersed, making many prisoners. The enemy now seemed to be - effectually routed; they disappeared.... - - “At the commencement of the action, Col. Jesup was detached - to the left of the enemy, with the discretionary order, to be - governed by circumstances.—The commander of the British forces - had committed a fault by leaving a road unguarded on his left. - Col. Jesup, taking advantage of this, threw himself promptly - into the rear of the enemy, where he was enabled to operate - with brilliant enterprise and the happiest effect. The capture - of Gen. Riall, with a large escort of officers of rank, was - part of the trophies of his intrepidity and skill. It is not, - we venture to assert, bestowing on him too much praise to say, - that to his achievements, more than to those of any other - individual, is to be attributed the preservation of the first - brigade from utter annihilation. - - “Among the officers captured by Col. Jesup, was Capt. Loring, - one of General Drummond’s aid-de-camps, who had been despatched - from the front line to order up the reserve, with a view to - fall on Scott with the concentrated force of the whole army - and overwhelm him at a single effort. Nor would it have been - possible to prevent this catastrophe, had the reserve arrived - in time; the force with which General Scott would have been - obliged to contend being nearly quadruple that of his own. By - the fortunate capture, however, of the British aid-de-camp, - before the completion of the service on which he had been - ordered, the enemy’s reserve was not brought into action until - the arrival of Gen. Ripley’s brigade, which prevented the - disaster that must otherwise have ensued, and achieved, in the - end, one of the most honourable victories that ever shed lustre - upon the arms of a nation....” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—RAINBOW OF THE CATARACT.—The afternoon of the -action presented one of those delicious summer scenes in which all -nature appears to be breathing in harmony and beauty.—As General Scott’s -brigade came in view, and halted in the vicinity of the cataracts, the -mist rising from the falls, was thrown in upon the land, arching the -American force with a vivid and gorgeous rainbow, the left resting on the -cataract, and the right lost in the forest. Its brilliance and beauty was -such, that it excited not only the enthusiasm of the officers, but even -the camp followers were filled with admiration. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.—“I rode to the -battle-ground about day-light on the following morning, without -witnessing the presence of a single British officer or soldier. The -dead had not been removed through the night, and such a scene of -carnage I never before beheld.—Red coats, blue, and grey, promiscuously -intermingled, _in many places three deep_, and around the hill where the -enemy’s artillery was carried by Colonel Miller, the carcasses of sixty -or seventy horses added to the horror of the scene.”—_Private Letter of -an Officer._ - -The dead were collected and burnt in funeral piles, made of rails, on the -field where they had fallen. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE TWO SERGEANTS.—For several days after the -action, the country people found the bodies of soldiers who had straggled -off into the woods, and died of their wounds.—At some distance from -the field of battle, and entirely alone, were found the bodies of two -sergeants, American and English, transfixed by each other’s bayonets, -lying across each other, where they had fallen in deadly duel. It is -rare that individual combat takes place under such circumstances in the -absence of spectators to cheer on the combatants by their approval, and -this incident conveys some idea of the desperation which characterised -the general contest on that night. Yet in this lonely and brief tragedy, -these two men were enacting parts, which to them were as momentous as the -furious conflict of the masses in the distance. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPTAIN HULL.—Captain Hull, a son of -General Hull, whose unfortunate surrender at Detroit created so much -odium, fell in this battle. He led his men into the midst of the heaviest -fire of the enemy, and after they were almost if not all destroyed, -plunged sword in hand into the centre of the British column, fighting -with the utmost desperation until he was literally impaled upon their -bayonets. - -In the pocket of this gallant and generous young officer, was found a -letter, avowing his determination to signalize the name or to fall in the -attempt. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—SCOTT’S BRIGADE.—Part of Gen. Scott’s command -were dressed in grey—(probably the fatigue dress)—at the battle of -Chippewa. An English company officer relates, that—“Advancing at the head -of my men, I saw a body of Americans drawn up, dressed in grey uniform. -Supposing them to be militia, I directed my men to fire, and immediately -charge bayonet.—What was my surprise, to find as the smoke of our fire -lifted from the ground, that instead of flying in consternation from our -destructive discharge, the supposed militia were coming down upon us at -‘double quick’—at the charge. In two minutes I stood alone, my men having -given way, without waiting to meet the shock.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPT. SPENCER.—Capt. Spencer, -aid-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Brown, a son of the Hon. Ambrose Spencer, was -only eighteen years of age at the time that he closed his brief career. -He was directed by Gen. Brown to carry an order to another part of the -field, and to avoid a more circuitous route, he chivalrously galloped -down, exposed to the heavy fire in the front of the line, eliciting -the admiration of both armies, but before he reached the point of his -destination, two balls passed through his body, and he rolled from his -saddle. - -The following letter to Gen. Armstrong, Secretary of War, will show in -what estimation he was held by Gen. Brown:— - - Copy of a letter from Major Gen. Brown, to Gen. Armstrong, - Secretary of War. - - “HEAD QUARTERS, FORT ERIE, 20th September, 1814. - - “SIR—Among the officers lost to this army, in the battle of - Niagara Falls, was my aid-de-camp, Captain Ambrose Spencer, who - being mortally wounded, was obliged to be left in the hands - of the enemy. By flags from the British army, I was shortly - afterwards assured of his convalescence, and an offer was made - me by Lieutenant General Drummond, to exchange him for his own - aid, Captain Loring, then a prisoner of war with us. However - singular this proposition appeared, as Captain Loring was not - wounded, nor had received the slightest injury, I was willing - to comply with it on Captain Spencer’s account. But as I knew - his wounds were severe, I first sent to ascertain the fact of - his being then living. My messenger, with a flag, was detained, - nor even once permitted to see Captain Spencer, though in his - immediate vicinity. - - “The evidence I wished to acquire failed; but my regard for - Captain Spencer, would not permit me longer to delay, and I - informed General Drummond, that his aid should be exchanged, - even for the _body_ of mine. This offer was, no doubt, gladly - accepted, and the _corpse_ of Captain Spencer sent to the - American shore.” - - * * * * * - -_Note to MONTREAL._—The custom of emblazoning on the flags, and other -military insignia of the regiments, the actions in which they have -signalized themselves, obtaining in the British and other European -services, is not now allowed in that of the United States, on the score -of its aristocratic tendency! Although, perhaps, in the instance alluded -to, the stupidity of the individual prevented him from understanding -their meaning; still, to the more intelligent of the soldiers, they are -no doubt a great incentive to uphold the honour of the regiment. - - * * * * * - -_Note to LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA._—This important position, situated -on Lake Champlain near the foot of the Horicon, (called by the English, -Lake George, and by the French, St. Sacrament,) was first fortified by -the French, and was the point from which they made so many incursions, -in conjunction with the Indians, upon the English settlements. Lord -Abercrombie led an army of nearly 16,000 men against it in the year -1658; but was defeated with a loss of 2000 men, and one of his most -distinguished officers, Lord Howe, who fell at the head of one of the -advance columns. In the following year it surrendered to General Amherst, -who led a force of nearly equal number against it. Its surprise and -capture by Ethan Allen at the commencement of our revolution, is, we -presume, familiar to every American, as also the fact of Burgoyne’s -getting heavy cannon upon the neighbouring mountain which had heretofore -been considered impracticable, and from which the works were entirely -commanded. The necessary withdrawal of the army by St. Clair, after -blowing up the works, is as related in the text. - - * * * * * - -_Note to Bass Fishing._—CREW OF THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—In the bloody and -heroic defence of the Essex, in which, out of a crew of two hundred and -fifty-five men, one hundred and fifty-three were killed and wounded! a -number of instances of individual daring and devotion are recorded of -the common sailors. Besides the act of Ripley, which is mentioned in the -text, one man received a cannon ball through his body, and exclaimed in -the agonies of death—“Never mind, shipmates, I die for free trade and -sailor’s rights.” Another expired inciting his shipmates to “fight for -liberty!”—and another, Benjamin Hazen, having dressed himself in a clean -shirt and jacket, threw himself overboard, declaring, that “he would -never be incarcerated in an English prison.” An old man-of-war’s-man -who was in her, informed the writer, that her sides were so decayed by -exposure to the climate in which she had been cruizing, that the dust -flew like smoke from every shot that came through the bulwarks, and that -at the close of the action, when the Essex was lying perfectly helpless, -a target for the two heavy British ships, riddled by every ball from -their long guns, without the ability to return a single shot—he was -near the quarter-deck and heard Commodore Porter walking up and down -with hurried steps, repeatedly strike his breast and exclaim, in great -apparent agony—“My Heaven!—is there no shot for me!” - - * * * * * - -_Note to Bass Fishing._—MUTINY ON BOARD THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—While the -Essex was lying at the Marquesas Islands, recruiting and refreshing her -crew from one of the long and arduous cruises in the Pacific, Commodore -Porter was informed through a servant of one of the officers, that -a mutiny had been planned, and was on the eve of consummation. That -it was the intention of the mutineers to rise upon the officers—take -possession of the ship—and, after having remained as long as they found -agreeable at the island, to hoist the black flag and “cruize on their -own account.”—Having satisfied himself of the truth of the information, -Commodore Porter ascended to the quarter-deck, and ordered all the crew -to be summoned aft. Waiting till the last man had come from below, he -informed them that he understood that a mutiny was on foot, and that he -had summoned them for the purpose of inquiring into its truth.—“Those -men who are in favour of standing by the ship and her officers,” said -the commodore, “will go over to the starboard side—those who are against -them will remain where they are.” The crew, to a man, moved over to the -starboard side. The ship was still as the grave. Fixing his eyes on -them steadily and sternly for a few moments—the commodore said—“Robert -White—step out.” The man obeyed, standing pale and agitated—guilt stamped -on every lineament of his countenance—in front of his comrades. The -commodore looked at him a moment—then seizing a cutlass from the nearest -rack, said, in a suppressed voice, but in tones so deep that they rung -like a knell upon the ears of the guilty among the crew—“Villain!—you -are the ringleader of this mutiny—jump overboard!” The man dropt on his -knees, imploring for mercy—saying that he could not swim. “Then drown, -you scoundrel!” said the commodore, springing towards him to cut him -down—“overboard instantly!”—and the man jumped over the side of the -ship. He then turned to the trembling crew, and addressed them with much -feeling—the tears standing upon his bronzed cheek as he spoke. He asked -them what he had done, that his ship should be disgraced by a mutiny. -He asked whether he had ever dishonoured the flag—whether he had ever -treated them with other than kindness—whether they had ever been wanting -for any thing to their comfort, that discipline and the rules of the -service would allow—and which it was in his power to give. At the close -of his address, he said—“Men!—before I came on deck, I laid a train to -the magazine!—and I would have blown all on board into eternity, before -my ship should have been disgraced by a successful mutiny—I never would -have survived the dishonour of my ship!—go to your duty.” The men were -much affected by the commodore’s address, and immediately returned to -their duty, showing every sign of contrition. They were a good crew, but -had been seduced by the allurements of the islands, and the plausible -representations of a villain. That they did their duty to their flag, it -is only necessary to say—that the same crew fought the ship afterwards -against the Phebe, and Cherub, in the harbour of Valparaiso, where, -though the American flag descended—it descended in a blaze of glory which -will long shine on the pages of history. But mark the sequel of this -mutiny—and let those who, _in the calm security of their firesides_, -are so severe upon the course of conduct pursued by officers in such -critical situations, see how much innocent blood would have been saved, -if White had been cut down instantly, or hung at the yard arm. As he -went overboard, he succeeded in reaching a canoe floating at a little -distance and paddled ashore. Some few months afterwards, when Lieutenant -Gamble of the Marines was at the islands, in charge of one of the large -prizes, short handed and in distress, this same White, at the head of -a party of natives, attacked the ship, killed two of the officers and -a number of the men, and it was with great difficulty that she was -prevented from falling into their hands. The blood of those innocent men, -and the lives of two meritorious officers would have been spared, if the -wretch had been put to instant death—as was the commodore’s intention. -It will be recollected, that the Essex, in getting under way, out of the -harbour of Valparaiso, carried away her foretop-mast in a squall, and -being thus unmanageable, came to anchor in the supposed protection of a -neutral port—nevertheless the Phebe, frigate, and Cherub, sloop-of-war, -attacked her in this position—the former with her long guns, selecting -her distance—cutting her up at her leisure—while the Essex, armed only -with carronades, lay perfectly helpless—her shot falling short of the -Phebe, although they reached the Cherub, which was forced to get out -of their range. “I was standing,” said my informant, then a midshipman -only fourteen years old, “I was standing at the side of one of our bow -chasers, (the only long guns we had,) which we had run aft out of the -stern port—when the Phebe bore up, and ran under our stern to rake us. -As she came within half-pistol shot (!) she gave us her whole broadside -at the same instant.—I recollect it well!” said the officer—“for as I -saw the flash, I involuntarily closed my eyes—expecting that she would -have blown us out of the water—and she certainly would have sunk us on -the spot, but firing too high, her shot cut our masts and rigging all to -pieces, doing little injury to the hull. Singular as it may seem, the -discharge of our one gun caused more slaughter than the whole of their -broadside, for while we had but one man wounded, the shot from our gun -killed two of the men at the wheel of the Phebe, and glancing with a -deep gouge on the main-mast, mortally wounded her first Lieutenant, who -died on the following day.” - - * * * * * - -_Long Island Sound._—NEW ENGLAND TRADITIONS.—There are few countries -where traditions and legends are handed down from generation to -generation with more fidelity than in New England, more particularly -along the sea-coast and the shores of the Sound. The “fire ship” is -supposed even now by the old fishermen to be seen cruising occasionally -in the vicinity of Block Island in the furious storms of thunder and -lightning. The tradition is, that she was taken by pirates—all hands -murdered, and abandoned after being set on fire by the bucaneers. Some -accounts state that a large white horse which was on board, was left -near the foremast to perish in the flames—and in storms of peculiarly -terrific violence that she may be seen, rushing along enveloped in fire, -the horse stamping and pawing at the heel of the foremast, her phantom -crew assembled at quarters. In the early part of the last century, a ship -came ashore a few miles beyond Newport, on one of the beaches—all sails -set—the table prepared for dinner, but the food untouched, and no living -thing on board of her. It was never ascertained what had become of her -crew—but it was supposed that she had been abandoned in some moment of -alarm, and that they all perished, although the vessel arrived in safety. - -The phantom horse will recall to mind a real incident, which occurred -not long since in the conflagration of one of the large steamboats on -Lake Erie. A fine race horse was on board, and secured, as is usual, -forward. Of course his safety was not looked to, while all were making -vain efforts to save themselves from their horrible fate. As the flames -came near him he succeeded in tearing himself loose from his fastenings, -rushing franticly through the fire and smoke fore and aft, trampling down -the unfortunate victims that were in his way, adding still more horror -to a scene which imagination can hardly realize, until frenzied with the -pain and agony of the fire, he plunged overboard and perished. - -But the favourite and most cherished traditions are those relating to -hidden treasure. The writer well recollects one to which his attention -was attracted in his childhood. Mr. ——, inhabiting one of those fine -old mansions in Newport, which had been built fifty years before, by -an English gentleman of fortune, where taste and caprice had been -indulged to the extreme, and where closets, and beaufets, and cellars, -and pantries, appeared to meet one at every turn, was engaged late one -winter’s night writing in his study, when he found it necessary to -replenish his fire with fuel. The servants having retired, he took a -candle and went himself to the cellar to procure it, and as he passed -the vault called the “wine cellar,” his attention was attracted by a -light streaming through the key-hole of the door. He stopped a moment and -called out supposing that some of the family were in the apartment—but -instantly the light vanished. He stepped up to the door and endeavoured -to open it, but found to his surprise that it was fastened,—a thing -that was unusual as the door constantly stood ajar. Calling out again, -“who’s there?” without receiving any answer, he placed his foot against -the door, and forced it open, when a sight met his eyes, which for a -moment chained him to the spot. In the centre of the cellar in a deep -grave which had been already dug, and leaning upon his spade, was a -brawny negro, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, and the -sweat trickling down his glistening black visage, while on the pile of -earth made from the excavation, stood another negro, a drawn sword in -one hand, a lantern with the light just extinguished in the other, and -an open bible with two hazle rods across it, lying at his feet—these -swart labourers the moment that the door was thrown open, making the most -earnest signs for silence. As soon as Mr. —— could command his voice, he -demanded the meaning of what he saw and what they were about. They both -simultaneously then declared that the charm was broken by his voice. One -of the worthies, who was the groom of the family, had dreamed five nights -in succession, that old Mr. E—— the builder of the house, had buried -a bootful (!) of gold in that cellar—and on comparing notes with his -brother dreamer, he found that his visions also pointed to treasure in -the old house, and they had proceeded secundem artem to its attainment, -both vehemently declaring that they intended to give part of the treasure -to Mr. ——. Of course, the door being opened, the strange negro was -required to add the darkness of his visage to that of night, while the -groom was on pain of instant dismission, together with the threat of the -ridicule of the whole town, directed to fill up the grave, and thereafter -to let the buried treasure sleep where its owner had seen fit to deposit -it. - - - - -NEW WORKS, - -AND - -=New Editions of Established Books,= - -PUBLISHED BY - -_D. 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His style -is clear, flowing and transparent; his sentiments, of which his style is -an easy and natural medium, are common to him with his readers.” - - -SOUTHEY’S POETICAL WORKS. - -The complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey, Esq., LL.D. The ten volume -London edition in one elegant royal 8vo. volume, with a fine portrait and -vignette. $3 50. - -☞ This edition, which the author has arranged and revised with the same -care as if it were intended for posthumous publication, includes many -pieces which either have never before been collected, or have hitherto -remained unpublished. - -Preliminary notices are affixed to the long poems,—the whole of the notes -retained,—and such additional ones incorporated as the author, since the -first publication, has seen occasion to insert. - - _Contents._ - - _Joan of Arc._ - _Juvenile and Minor Poems._ - _Thalaba the Destroyer._ - _Madoc._ - _Ballads and Metrical Tales._ - _The Curse of Kehama._ - _Roderick the last of the Goths._ - _The Poet’s Pilgrimage to Waterloo._ - _Lay of the Laureate._ - _Vision of Judgment, &c._ - -“At the age of sixty-three I have undertaken to collect and edit my -poetical works, with the last corrections that I can expect to bestow -upon them. They have obtained a reputation equal to my wishes.... Thus to -collect and revise them is a duty which I owe to that part of the public -by whom they have been auspiciously received, and to those who will take -a lively concern in my good name when I shall have departed.”—_Extract -from Author’s Preface._ - - -THE BOOK OF THE NAVY; - -Comprising a general History of the American Marine, and particular -accounts of all the most celebrated Naval Battles, from the Declaration -of Independence to the present time, compiled from the best authorities. -By John Frost, Professor of Belles Lettres in the High School of -Philadelphia. With an Appendix, containing Naval Songs, Anecdotes, -&c. Embellished with numerous original Engravings and Portraits of -distinguished Naval Commanders. Complete in one handsome volume octavo. -$1 50. - - -PICTORIAL LIFE OF NAPOLEON. - -History of Napoleon Bonaparte, translated from the French of M. Laurent -de L’Ardeche, with five hundred spirited illustrations, after designs by -Horace Vernet, and twenty original portraits engraved in the best style. -Complete in two handsome volumes, octavo, about 500 pages each. $4 00. - - -PICTORIAL ROBINSON CRUSOE. - -The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel De Foe. With -a Memoir of the Author, and an Essay on his Writings, illustrated -with nearly 500 spirited Engravings, by the celebrated French artist -Grandville, forming one elegant volume, octavo, of 500 pages. $1 75. - - -PICTORIAL VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. - -The Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver Goldsmith. Elegantly illustrated with -200 hundred Engravings, making a beautiful volume, octavo, of 350 pages. -$1 25. - - -THE AMERICAN IN EGYPT; WITH RAMBLES THROUGH Arabia-Petræa and the Holy -Land, during the years 1839-40. - -By James Ewing Cooley. Illustrated with numerous Steel Engravings, also -Etchings and Designs by Johnston,—one handsome volume octavo, of 610 -pages. - -No other volume extant can give the reader so true a picture of what he -would be likely to see and meet in Egypt. No other book is more practical -and plain in its picture of precisely what the traveller himself will -meet. Other writers have one account to give of their journey on paper, -and another to relate in conversation. Mr. Cooley has but one story for -the fireside circle and the printed page.—_Brother Jonathan._ - - -THE DAUGHTERS OF ENGLAND: - -Their Position in Society, Character, and Responsibilities. By Mrs. -Ellis, author of “The Women of England.” Complete in one handsome volume -12mo. 75 cents. - - -GEMS FROM TRAVELLERS. - -Illustrative of various passages in the Holy Scriptures, with nearly 100 -Engravings. Among the authorities quoted will be found the following -distinguished names: Haimer, Laborde, Lane, Madden, Clarke, Pocoke, -Chandler Malcom, Hartley, Russel, Jowitt, Carne, Shaw, Morier, Neibuhr, -Bruce, Calmet, H. Belzoni, Lord Lindsay, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. $1 00. - - -SPIRITUAL CHRISTIANITY. - -Lectures on Spiritual Christianity. By Isaac Taylor, author of “Spiritual -Despotism,” &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. $0 75. - - - - -NEW WORKS & NEW EDITIONS. - - -The undersigned have the pleasure of presenting to you a copy of -their Catalogue of important Publications in the several departments -of Literature. They would particularly direct your attention to -that admirable series of devotional works by BISHOP PATRICK, BISHOP -WILSON, DOCTOR SUTTON and others, which have received the unqualified -commendation of the Church. In a letter received from BISHOP WHITTINGHAM, -he says, “I had forgotten to express my _very great satisfaction_ at your -commencement of a series of devotional works, lately re-published in -Oxford and London.” Again, BISHOP DOANE says of this, “I write to express -my thanks to you for reprints of the Oxford books; first, for reprinting -such books, and secondly, in such a style I sincerely hope you may be -encouraged to go on, and give them all to us. You will dignify the art -of printing, and you will do great service to the best interests of the -country.” The undersigned also beg to refer to their beautiful edition of -the Poetical Works of SOUTHEY, also to that excellent series of “Tales -for the People and their Children,” by MARY HOWITT and others, and to -that extensive series of popular works for general reading, uniting an -interesting style with soundness of Christian principle, such as the -works of ARCHBISHOP MAGEE, GUIZOT, JOHN ANGELL JAMES, MISS SINCLAIR, REV. -ROBERT PHILIP, REV. AUGUSTUS WM. HARE, JNO. PYE SMITH, FREDERICK AUGUSTUS -SCHLEGEL, ISAAC TAYLOR, DR. W. C. TAYLOR, REV. DR. SPRAGUE, &c. &c. They -also publish those very popular Voyages and Travels by REV. H. SOUTHGATE, -of the Episcopal Mission, and FITCH W. TAYLOR, together with the Memoirs -of GENERAL ALEXANDER HAMILTON by his son; and will continue to publish -standard and popular works, and trust to merit a continuance of public -favour. - - D. APPLETON & Co. - _Emporium for Standard Literature_, - 200 BROADWAY, NEW-YORK. - -☞ D. A. & Co.’s Catalogue of English Books (critical and explanatory) -will shortly be ready for delivery. - - -SCHLEGEL’S PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY, - -The Philosophy of History, in a course of Lectures delivered at Vienna, -by FREDERICK VON SCHLEGEL, translated from the German, with a Memoir of -the author, by J. B. ROBERTSON. Handsomely printed on fine paper. 2 vols. -12mo. - -“To do a mere reviewer’s justice to such a work would require many -numbers of our journal. It is quite unnecessary to do more than direct -attention to a production which, beyond all others, has contributed -to exalt and purify modern science and literature—a work to which, in -the eloquent words of a great man, ‘we owe the attempts at least to -turn philosophy’s eye inward on the soul, and to compound the most -sacred elements of its spiritual powers with the ingredients of human -knowledge.’”—_Literary Gazette._ - - -THE NATURAL HISTORY OF SOCIETY, IN THE BARBAROUS AND CIVILISED STATE. - -An Essay towards discovering the Origin and Course of Human Improvement. -By W. COOKE TAYLOR, LL.D., &c., of Trinity College, Dublin. Handsomely -printed on fine paper. 2 vols. 12 mo. - -“A most able work, the design of which is to determine from an -examination of the various forms in which society has been formed, what -was the origin of civilization, and under what circumstances those -attributes of humanity, which in one country become the foundation of -social happiness, and in another perverted to the production of general -misery. For this purpose the author has separately examined the principal -elements by which society, under all its aspects, is held together, and -traced each to its source in human nature. He has then directed attention -to the development of these principles, and pointed out the circumstances -by which they were perfected on the one hand, or corrupted on the other.” - -“We perceive by the preface that the work has had throughout, the -superintendence of the very learned Archbishop Whately.”—_New-York -American._ - - -CARLYLE ON HISTORY AND HEROES. - -HERO, HERO-WORSHIP, AND THE HEROIC IN HISTORY. - -Six Lectures, reported with, emendations and additions. - -By THOMAS CARLYLE, author of the “French Revolution,” “Sartor Resartus,” -&c. - -Contents—The Hero as Divinity, Odin, Paganism, Scandinavian Mythology, -The Hero as Prophet, Mahomet, Islam; The Hero as Poet, Dante, Shakspeare; -The Hero as Priest, Luther, Reformation, Knox, Puritanism; The Hero as -Man of Letters, Johnson, Rousseau, Burns; The Hero as King, Cromwell, -Napoleon, Modern Revolutionism. - -1 vol. 12mo., beautifully printed on fine white paper. - - -THOUGHTS IN PAST YEARS: - -A beautiful collection of Poetry, chiefly Devotional. By the Author of -the Cathedral. 1 vol. royal 16mo. elegantly printed. - - -MEDITATIONS ON THE SACRAMENT. - -Godly Meditations upon the most Holy Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. By -CHRISTOPHER SUTTON, DD., late Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. royal 16mo., -elegantly ornamented. - - -LEARN TO DIE. - -Disce Mori, Learn to Die, a Religious Discourse, moving every Christian -man to enter into a serious remembrance of his end. By CHRISTOPHER -SUTTON, DD., sometime Prebend of Westminster. 1 vol. 16mo, elegantly -ornamented. - - -SACRA PRIVATA: THE Private Meditations, Devotions and Prayers - -Of the Right Rev. T. Wilson, D.D., Lord Bishop of Soder and Man. First -complete edition. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. First -complete edition. - - -A Discourse Concerning Prayer - -And the Frequenting Daily Public Prayers. By SIMON PATRICK, D.D., -sometime Lord Bishop of Ely. Edited by FRANCIS E. PAGET, M.A., Chaplain -to the Lord Bishop of Oxford. 1 vol. royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. - - -HEART’S EASE: Or a Remedy against all Troubles; WITH A Consolatory -Discourse, - -Particularly addressed to those who have lost their friends and dear -relations. By SIMON PATRICK, DD., sometime Lord Bishop of Ely. 1 vol. -royal 16mo., elegantly ornamented. - - -SCRIPTURE and GEOLOGY. - -On the Relation between the Holy Scriptures and some parts of Geological -Science. By JOHN PYE SMITH, DD., author of the Scripture Testimony of the -Messiah, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -TOUR THROUGH TURKEY and PERSIA. - -Narrative of a Tour through Armenia, Kurdistan, Persia, and Mesopotamia, -with an Introduction and Occasional Observations upon the Condition of -Mohammedanism and Christianity in those countries. By the REV. HORATIO -SOUTHGATE, Missionary of the American Episcopal Church. 2 vols. 12mo. -plates. - - -Magee on Atonement and Sacrifice. - -Discourses and Dissertations on the Scriptural Doctrines of Atonement -and Sacrifice, and on the Principal Arguments advanced, and the Mode -of Reasoning employed, by the Opponents of those Doctrines, as held by -the Established Church. By the late Most Rev. WILLIAM MAGEE, D. D., -Archbishop of Dublin. 2 vols, royal 8vo., beautifully printed. - - -SOUTHEY’S POETICAL WORKS. - -The complete collected edition of the Poetical Works of ROBERT SOUTHEY, -Esq., LL.D. edited by himself. Printed verbatim from the ten volume -London edition. Illustrated with a fine portrait and vignette. 1 vol. -royal 8vo. - -“The beauties of Mr. Southey’s Poetry are such that this collected -edition can hardly fail to find a place in the Library of every person -fond of elegant literature.”—_Eclectic Review._ - -“Southey’s principal Poems have been long before the world, extensively -read, and highly appreciated. Their appearing in a uniform edition, with -the author’s final corrections, will afford unfeigned pleasure to those -who are married to immortal verse.”—_Literary Gazette._ - -“This edition of the works of Southey is a credit to the press of our -country.”—_N. A. Review._ - - -GUIZOT’S HISTORY of CIVILIZATION. - -General History of Civilization in Europe, from the Fall of the Roman -Empire to the French Revolution. Translated from the French of M. GUIZOT, -Professor of History to la Faculté des Lettres of Paris, and Minister of -Public Instruction. 2d American, from the last London edition. 1 vol. -12mo. - - -BICKERSTETH’S COMPLETE WORKS. - -The Works of the REV. EDWARD BICKERSTETH, Rector of Manton, -Hertfordshire, containing Scripture, Help, Treatise on Prayer, the -Christian Hearer, the Chief concerns of Man for Time and Eternity, -Treatise on the Lord’s Supper, and the Christian Student. 1 vol. 8vo. - - -THE LIFE OF ALEXANDER HAMILTON. - -Edited by his son, JOHN C. HAMILTON. 2 vols. royal 8vo. - -“We cordially recommend the perusal and diligent study of these volumes, -exhibiting, as they do, much valuable matter relative to the Revolution, -the establishment of the Federal Constitution, and other important events -in the annals of our country.”—_New York Review._ - - -SCOTLAND and the SCOTCH; OR, THE WESTERN CIRCUIT. - -By CATHERINE SINCLAIR, author of Modern Accomplishments, Modern Society, -&c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -SHETLAND and the SHETLANDERS; OR, THE NORTHERN CIRCUIT. - -By CATHERINE SINCLAIR, author of Scotland and the Scotch, Holiday House, -&c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -THE METROPOLITAN PULPIT; - -Or Sketches of the most Popular Preachers in London. By the author of -Random Recollections, The Great Metropolis, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -HARE’S PAROCHIAL SERMONS. - -Sermons to a Country Congregation. By AUGUSTUS WILLIAM HARE, A.M., late -Fellow of New College and Rector of Alton Barnes. 1 vol. royal 8vo. - -“Any one who can be pleased with delicacy of thought expressed in the -most simple language—any one who can feel the charm of finding practical -duties elucidated and enforced by apt and varied illustrations—will be -delighted with this volume, which presents us with the workings of a -pious and highly gifted mind.”—_Quarterly Review._ - - -Williams’s Missionary Enterprises. - -A Narrative of Missionary Enterprises and Triumphs in the South Seas, -with Remarks upon the Natural History of the Islands, Origin, Language, -Tradition and Usages of the Inhabitants. By the REV. JOHN WILLIAMS, of -the London Missionary Society. Numerous plates. 1 vol. large 12mo. - - -THE FLAG SHIP: Or, a Voyage Round the World, - -In the United States Frigate Columbia attended by her consort, the Sloop -of War John Adams, and bearing the broad pennant of Commodore George C. -Read. By Fitch W. Taylor, Chaplain to the Squadron. 2 vols. 12mo. plates. - - -ELLA V ——: Or the July Tour. By one of the Party. 1 vol. 12mo. - -“He can form a moral on a glass of champagne.”—Le Roy. - - -Missionary’s Farewell. - -By the REV. JOHN WILLIAMS, author of Missionary Enterprises, &c. 1 vol. -18mo. - - -SACRED CHOIR. - -A Collection of Church Music. Edited by GEORGE KINGSLEY, author of Social -Choir, &c. - -“This collection is pronounced by the most eminent professors to be -superior to any published in the country.” - - -Physical Theory of Another Life. - -By ISAAC TAYLOR, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm. Third edition. -1 vol. 12mo. - - -HOME EDUCATION. - -By ISAAC TAYLOR, author of Natural History of Enthusiasm, &c. &c. Second -Edition. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Limitations of Human Responsibility. - -By FRANCIS WAYLAND, D.D. Second edition. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -The Principles of Diagnosis. - -By MARSHALL HALL, M.D. F.R.S., &c. Second edition, with many -improvements, by DR. JOHN A. SWETT. 1 vol. 8vo. - - -=WORKS BY THE REV. ROBERT PHILIP.= - - -THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF DR. MILNE, MISSIONARY TO CHINA. - -Illustrated by Biographical Annals of Asiatic Missions from Primitive to -Protestant Times, intended as a Guide to Missionary Spirit. By ROBERT -PHILIP. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -THE LIFE AND TIMES OF JOHN BUNYAN, - -Author of the Pilgrim’s Progress. By ROBERT PHILIP. With a fine portrait. -1 vol. 12mo. - - -LADY’S CLOSET LIBRARY, AS FOLLOWS: - - -THE MARYS; - -Or Beauty of Female Holiness. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -THE MARTHAS; - -Or Varieties of Female Piety. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -THE LYDIAS; - -Or Development of Female Character. By ROBERT PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -DEVOTIONAL AND EXPERIMENTAL GUIDES, - -By ROBERT PHILIP. With an Introductory Essay by REV. ALBERT BARNES. 2 -vols. 12mo. Containing - - Guide to the Perplexed. - Do do Devotional. - Do do Thoughtful. - Do do Doubting. - Do do Conscientious. - Do do Redemption. - - -YOUNG MAN’S CLOSET LIBRARY. - -By ROBERT PHILIP With an Introductory Essay by REV. ALBERT BARNES. 1 vol. -12mo. - - -LOVE OF THE SPIRIT, - -Traced in his Work: a Companion to the Experimental Guides. By ROBERT -PHILIP. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -_Shortly will be Published_, - -THE HANNAHS. - -Being a continuation of the Lady’s Closet Library, forming the Maternal -portion of the series. - - -=WORKS BY THE REV. JOHN A. JAMES.= - - -Pastoral Addresses: - -By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. With an Introduction by the REV. WM. ADAMS. 1 -vol. 18mo. - -Contents.—The increased Holiness of the Church. Spirituality of Mind. -Heavenly Mindedness. Assurance of Hope. Practical Religion wisest in -every thing. How to spend a Profitable Sabbath. Christian Obligations. -Life of Faith. Influence of Older Christians. The Spirit of Prayer. -Private Prayer. Self-Examination. - - -THE YOUNG MAN FROM HOME. - -In a series of Letters, especially directed for the Moral Advancement of -Youth. By the REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. Fifth edition. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -The Anxious Enquirer after Salvation - -Directed and Encouraged. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -The Christian Professor. - -Addressed in a series of Counsels and Cautions to the Members of -Christian Churches. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -Happiness, its Nature and Sources. - -By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. - - -THE WIDOW DIRECTED - -To the Widow’s God. By REV. JOHN ANGELL JAMES. - - -DISCOURSES ON THE NERVOUS SYSTEM. - -Select Discourses on the Functions of the Nervous System, in opposition -to Phrenology, Materialism and Atheism; to which is prefixed a Lecture -on the Diversities of the Human Character, arising from Physiological -Peculiarities. By JOHN AUGUSTINE SMITH, M.D. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Thoughts in Affliction. - -By the REV. A. S. THELWALL A.M. To which is added _Bereaved Parents -Consoled_, by JOHN THORNTON, with _Sacred Poetry_. 1 vol. 32mo. - - -=WORKS BY THE REV. DR. SPRAGUE.= - - -True and False Religion. - -Lectures illustrating the Contrast between True Christianity and various -other systems. By WILLIAM B. SPRAGUE, D.D. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Lectures on Revivals - -In Religion. By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. With an Introductory Essay by LEONARD -WOODS, D.D. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Letters to a Daughter, - -On Practical Subjects. By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. Fourth edition, revised and -enlarged. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -Lectures to Young People. - -By W. B. SPRAGUE, D.D. With an Introductory Address by SAMUEL MILLER, -D.D. Fourth edition. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -MY SON’S MANUAL. - -Comprising a Summary View of the Studies, Accomplishments, and Principles -of Conduct, best suited for Promoting Respectability and Success in Life. -Elegantly engraved frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -MY DAUGHTER’S MANUAL. - -Comprising a Summary View of Female Studies, Accomplishments and -Principles of Conduct. Beautiful frontispiece. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -GRIFFIN’S REMAINS: - -Remains of the Rev. Edmund D. Griffin. Compiled by FRANCIS GRIFFIN. With -a Memoir by REV. DR. MCVICAR. 2 vols, 8vo. - - -HODGE ON THE STEAM-ENGINE. - -The Steam Engine, its Origin and Gradual Improvement from the time of -Hero to the present day, as adapted to Manufactures, Locomotion and -Navigation. Illustrated with forty-eight plates in full detail, numerous -wood cuts, &c. By PAUL R. HODGE, C. E. 1 vol. folio of plates and -letter-press in 8vo. - -“In this work the best Western and Eastern machinery, as applied to -navigation, together with the most approved locomotive engines in this -country and Europe, are given in detail, forming the most valuable work -for the practical man ever published.” - - - - -APPLETON’S TALES FOR THE PEOPLE - -=And their Children.= - -The greatest care is taken in selecting the works of which the collection -is composed, so that nothing either mediocre in talent, or immoral in -tendency, is admitted. Each volume is printed in the finest paper, is -illustrated with an elegant frontispiece, and is bound in a superior -manner, tastefully ornamented. - -The following have already appeared uniform in size and style: - - -=WHO SHALL BE GREATEST?= A Tale: by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. - -“The great moral lesson inculcated by this book is indicated by its -title; and while it is prominent enough through the whole volume, it -comes out at the close with most impressive effect. We need not say it -is a lesson which every human being is the wiser and the better for -learning. We cordially recommend the work to all who would desire to form -a sober and rational estimate of the world’s enjoyments.”—_Albany Evening -Journal._ - - -=SOWING AND REAPING=: or What will Come of It? by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. -18mo., plates. - -“We commenced it with the intention of just looking it over for the -purpose of writing a cursory notice; but we began to read, and so we -went on to the finis. It is very interesting: the characters are full of -individuality.”—_New-Bedford Mercury._ - - -=STRIVE AND THRIVE=: a Tale by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. - -“The mere announcement of the name of the authoress, will doubtless -bring any of her productions to the immediate notice of the public; but -Strive and Thrive is not a book for children only, but can be read with -pleasure and advantage by those of a more mature age. It fully sustains -the reputation of its predecessors. The style is easy and flowing, the -language chaste and beautiful, and the incidents of the tale calculated -to keep up the interest to the end.”—_New-York Courier & Enquirer._ - - -=HOPE ON, HOPE EVER=: or the Boyhood of Felix Law: by MARY HOWITT. 1 vol. -18mo. - -“A very neat volume with the above title, and the farther annunciation -that it may be called Tales for the People and their Children, has been -written by Mary Howitt, whose name is so favourably known to the reading -community.” - -“This volume like all others that emanate from the pen of this lady, -is extremely interesting; the characters are naturally drawn, while -the feeling and passion displayed, give the work a higher rank than is -usually allotted to Nursery Tales.”—_Commercial Advertiser._ - - -=THE LOOKING GLASS FOR THE MIND=: or Intellectual Mirror, being an -elegant collection of the most delightful little stories and interesting -tales: chiefly translated from that much admired work L’ami des Enfans; -with numerous wood cuts—the twentieth edition. 1 vol. 18mo. - -The stories here collected are of a most interesting character, since -virtue is constantly represented as the fountain of happiness, and vice -as the source of every evil—as a useful and instructive Looking Glass, we -recommend it for the instruction of every youth, whether Miss or Master; -it is a _mirror_ that will not flatter them or lead them into error; it -displays the follies and improper pursuits of youthful hearts, points -out the dangerous paths they sometimes tread, and clears the way to the -_temple of honour and fame_. - - -=THE SETTLERS AT HOME=: by HARRIET MARTINEAU. 1 vol. 18mo. - -“The circumstances under which this little volume, for the amusement -of children, has been produced, give an additional charm to its truth, -simplicity, and feeling. The tale, though in one passage sorrowful enough -to moisten many a pair of eyes, is full of interest and character. The -latter, we may add, is as much appreciated by children as the former; and -they will take as lively an interest in Ailwin’s ignorant and unselfish -fidelity and her stalwart arms, and in Roger Redfurn the gipsy boy’s -gleams of better nature, as in the developement of the main incident of -the book, a disastrous flood which spread devastation over the Isle of -Axholme two hundred years ago.”—_Athenæum._ - -“The early tales of Miss Martineau, written to inculcate and illustrate, -by practical examples, the truths of political economy, will survive -her later and more controversial works. So in this little story of -the History and ill-treatment of some Dutch settlers, in the fens -of Lincolnshire—during the wars of the Parliament because they were -strangers, and because, moreover, they interfered with the wild and -ague-shaken gunners and fishermen of the fens,—we see again the same -shrewdness of observation—the same real interest in the welfare of the -humble classes—the same sagacity, and occasional natural pathos, which -rendered the politico-economical tracts so attractive, in despite of -their name and subject.”—_New-York American._ - - -=EARLY FRIENDSHIP=: a Tale by MRS. COPLEY. 1 vol. 18mo., plates. - -In introducing the name of a new writer to this series of popular -works, the publishers cannot but express their desire that all who have -purchased previous volumes, will buy this, being assured it will commend -itself to the reader so that the name of Mrs. Copley will soon, like the -name of _Howitt_, be a passport to the notice and favour of the whole -reading community. - - -=FAMILY SECRETS=: or Hints to those who would make Home Happy, by Mrs. -ELLIS, author of “The Women of England,” “Poetry of Life,” etc. - -“The tendency of this book is one of the best and noblest. The scenes -and characters are, it is believed, portraits. Aiming as it does at the -correction of a too prevalent vice—it is expected that the Family Secrets -will command amongst the serious and thinking part of the community as -extensive a popularity as Nicholas Nickleby does in its peculiar circle.” - - -=PAST DAYS=; a Story for Children. By ESTHER WHITLOCK. Square 18mo. - -“It is a delightful, instructive little book; and if the child, when -she closes the volume, find her ‘eyes red with weeping,’ let her not be -ashamed; one old enough to be her grandfather, caught the same disease -from the same source.”—_Philadelphia United States Gazette._ - - -HAZEN’S SYMBOLICAL SPELLING-BOOK. - -The Symbolical Spelling Book, in two parts. By EDWARD HAZEN. Containing -288 engravings, printed on good paper. - -“This work is already introduced into upwards of one thousand different -schools, and pronounced to be one of the best works published.” - - -Lafever’s Modern Architecture. - -Beauties of Modern Architecture; consisting of Forty-eight Plates of -Original Designs, with Plans, Elevations and Sections, also a Dictionary -of Technical Terms, the whole forming a complete Manual for the Practical -Business Man. By M. LAFEVER, Architect. 1 vol. large 8vo. half bound. - - -Lafever’s Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction. - -The Modern Practice of Stair-Case and Hand-Rail Construction, practically -explained in a series of Designs. By M. LAFEVER, Architect. With Plans -and Elevations for Ornamental Villas. Fifteen plates. 1 vol. large 8vo. - - -Keightly’s Mythology for Schools. - -The Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy, designed for the use of -Schools. By THOMAS KEIGHTLY. Numerous wood cut illustrations. 1 vol. -18mo. half bound. - - -POLYMICRIAN NEW TESTAMENT. - -Numerous References, Maps, &c. 1 vol. 18mo. - - -A GIFT FROM FAIRY-LAND. - -By J. K. PAULDING, Esq. Illustrated with one hundred unique original -plates by Chapman. Elegantly bound. 1 vol. 12mo. - - -☞ _Preparing for Publication._ - - -LEARN TO LIVE. - -Disce Vivere, Learn to Live; wherein is shown that the Life of Christ -is, and ought to be, an express Pattern for imitation unto the life of a -Christian. 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Translated by SARAH AUSTEN. - - - - -_Recently Published._ - - -The Sacred Choir: - -A COLLECTION OF CHURCH MUSIC. - -Consisting of Selections from the most distinguished authors, among whom -are the names of HAYDN, MOZART, BEETHOVEN, PERGOLESSI, &c. &c.; with -several pieces of Music by the author; also a Progressive Elementary -System of Instruction for Pupils. By GEORGE KINGSLEY, author of the -Social Choir, &c. &c. Fourth edition. - -☞ The following are among the many favourable opinions expressed of this -work. - - _From L. Meignen, Professor of Music, Philadelphia._ - - “G. Kingsley, - - “Sir,—I have carefully perused the copy of your new work, and - it is with the greatest pleasure that I now tell you that I - have been highly gratified with the reading of many of its - pieces. The harmony throughout is full, effective and correct; - the melodies are well selected and well adapted; and I have no - doubt, that when known and appreciated, this work will be found - in the library of every choir whose director feels, as many do, - the want of a complete reformation in that department of music. - Believe me, dear sir, - - “Yours respectfully, - - “L. Meignen.” - - _From Mr. B. Denman, President of the David Sacred - Music Society, Philadelphia, to George Kingsley._ - - “Dear sir,—Having examined your ‘Sacred Choir,’ I feel much - pleasure in recommending it as the very best collection of - Church Music I have ever seen. It combines the beauties of - other books of the kind, with some decided improvements in - selection, arrangement and composition, and commends itself - to the choir, the parlour and social circle. Wishing you the - success your valuable and well-arranged work merits, I am, sir, - - “Yours respectfully.” - - _From the Committee of the Choir of Yale College._ - - “Sir,—We have been using for some time past your new - publication in the choir with which we are connected. We take - pleasure in stating to you our entire satisfaction with the - manner in which it has been compiled and harmonized, and would - willingly recommend it to any of the associations desiring a - collection of Sacred Music of a sterling character and original - matter. The melodies are quite varied and of an unusually - pleasing character; and uniting, as they do, the devotional - with the pleasing, we have no hesitation in giving them our - preference to any other collection of a similar character at - present in use among the churches.” - - _From Three Leaders of Choirs._ - - “Mr. George Kingsley. - - “Sir—We have examined the ‘Sacred Choir’ enough to lead us to - appreciate the work as the best publication of Sacred Music - extant. It is beautifully printed and substantially bound, - conferring credit on the publishers. We bespeak for the ‘Sacred - Music Choir’ an extensive circulation. - - Sincerely yours, - - “O. S. Bowdoin. - “E. O. Goodwin. - “D. Ingraham.” - - - - -EMPORIUM FOR STANDARD LITERATURE, - -English and American. - - -D. 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