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— POE FRY. THE WOUNDED EAGLE BT MRS. HEManS. Fn<r 1 "! this i* not thv sp^ Prr ! Wa rior-bird, what seek’*! t h° n ,' prc ' ■\V»rrefore bv the fountain’s brink P *hthv rova 1 pinion 'in' ? W'ln^eforn on th" v'oM’- b"d j, » t thou thu : th" droopin'? hra • TVni that hold’s! th** blast in scorn, Thou, that wcai’ t the wings of mom. F.an-M w it thou not arV? Look noon thin- own bright skies! p- \ thv glance!—the fierv sun Tlv re his pride of place hath won, .ft o-! the mountain 'ark is there. Arl sweet sound hath fiH’ l the a-r. Hast thou left the realm on high? —Oil it can be but to (lie! Eagle! Eagle! thou hast how’1 E* thine empire oW the cloud . Th u that ha 1st ethereal birth: Thou hast stoop’d too near to earth, And the hunter’s shaft hath found thee, An-' the toils of death hath bound thee. —Wherefore didst thou leave thy place, C "nature of a kingly race? Wert thou weary of thv throne? Was the skv’s dominion lone? Chill and lone it well might he, Y >t that mighty wing was free! New the chain iso’erit cast, Fr : n Ihy heart the blood flows fast, —W > lor gifted souls on high! Is not such their destiny? SACRAMENTAL, C. P. RL 1. G«y TG?V» RZ<$, cj^yz d/i Rtsz h.sedvvr;—- S3W.X R.4 ^®h>, (ptp o^-a-wies, CI1I1XAP. 2. (PFT ViT MIT Z-V* lpEC.-Tac^I"', SS i>y4T, ■U'trz tfFopr.i^, 0>r-?PKZCeZ, ./ID aAS4T. 3. “ JiD DB Dy©tb TGP.-ePM^'A; T!ry: TIeS; DFoiWLJI Eh9*. trtV 0 D<T DJWotd T0Viy4T. J> 4. “jin dr nyys (pTt?c= Tec-e; TG.IW^t-o® .1.” “ GotV Ii\Ji-H R'? P'S,” SO J C54<!'T. “ n<r tgop.i«'P'«)j: Tcs:iM4ar, t (-?vPt?y; DT/l» Soty-aT SGP V(i,UofI’-'.ti'F, Twiyzi'dSp'tSia.” 6. DPAWIU GTP .4D A’lPlVdl.iop, lrU S^yiT’J GI.TR F.hP-R ZC=A, SCAiZ AlrZy^JoP. MISCELLANY. my hands show I am your wife—-but ul the same time let your heart know singleness in matters of moment.-—1 am uWare of the kind of society in which you have lately indulged. Tell me, Edward, for Heaven s sake tell me!—we arc poor—we are reduced! we are ruined!—is it not so?” Edward had not a word for his wife; but a man’s tears are more awful than his words. ‘‘Well, be it so, Edward! Our chil dren may sutler from our fall, but it will redouble my exertion for them.— And as for myself, you do not know me il you think that circumstances lessen my feelings for you. A wOman's love is like the plant which shows its strength the more it is trodden on.— Arouse yourself my husband—it is true, your father, has cast you off, and you are indebted to him in a serious sum —but he is not all the world!—only consider you wife in that light.”—A slight tap was now heard at the door, and Mrs. F. went to ascertain the cause;she returned to her bus! and: “Mary is at (he door—she says you al ways kissed her before she went to bed? ” ‘My child—rny child,’ said the fa ther; ‘God bless you—1 am not well’ Mary: Nay, do not speak to me to night; go to rest now—give me one of your pretty smiles in the morning, and your father will be happy again.’ Mr. F. too was persuaded by his affectionate partner to retire; hut sleep and rest were not for him—his wife and his children had once given him happy dreams—but now, the ru in he had brought upon them was an awakening reality. When the light of the morning ap peared above the line of the opposite house, Mr. F. arose. ‘Where are you going Edward?’— said his wife. ‘I have been consider- he replied, calmly, and I am de to do. The distress 1 have this mo ment caused was premeditated on ni) part. It hat hud its full effect. A mortal gels Lo vice by single steps, and many think the victim must re turn by degrees.* I know Edward's disposition; <»d that with him a single leap is suffment. That leap he has taken. He s again in my memory as the favorite >f Ins poor mother—the laughing eyei young pet of a—pshaw— of an old loo!; for why am I crying.’ Little May had insensibly diawn herself towalds the old philosopher, and without uttering a word, pressed 'm feet, render this city of easier access, ijtiiough me accumulation on tile robis of the ediliees caused the destruction of the upper parts of the buildings, ■oome of the ancient inhabitants who had escaped the dreadful calamity, appear to have returned, and excav-* ated in so.ne parts, but were forced to leave their city immersed in hope less ruin, and devoted to oblivion for many ages. The. decomposition of the volcanic matter, which took place in the course of time, produced a rich soil peculiarly favorable to the cultivation of vines, which, trained up his hand and put her handkerchief to the steins of poplars planted in groves his eyes.—-The boy also now left his for thatpurposfe, hang in graceful-fes- parent, walked up to his grandfather, toons, & produce a beautifully pictur- and leaning his elbow on the old man s esque effect. Aftera lapse of fifteen knees, and turning up his round cheek, said, ‘then you wont take papa away?’ GAMBLING; OR, Raixi and sunshine. “ As we turn our backs From our companion, into his grave, S . Ins familiars to Ins buried fortunes . Smiok ail away.” “Wny do you keep me for so long a time .it the door?” s id Edward F. S assionately to his wife. The night u.i passed, but its colu wind entered the House, as Mrs. F. with sorrowful lioart, undid the lock. . ‘ It is late Edward; and I could not keep from slumbering.' tie said nothing in return to this: flung liLnself into a chair, & intently gazed on l ie fire; His son dimed upon his knees, and putting his arms around the fritter’s neck, whispered, papa, what has mamma been crying for?—Mr. F. started—shook of his boy, and said with violence, ‘got to bed, sir; w'hat business has your mother to let jou be up at this hour?’ The poor child s le ver lip pouted; but he was, at this time, loo much frightened to cry. His sister silently took him up: and when lie had reached his cot, his warm Heart discharged itself of its noisy gr’ef. The mother heard his crying a i l went, to him; but she soon return ed to the parlour. She leaned upon frer husband and thus addressed him: ‘Edward, I will not upbraid you on account of your harshness to me—hut r im ilore of you riot to net in this man Bar bMore your children. You are nv E Hvnrd, as vou used tobe! These h invy eyes tell of wretehedness, as of had ‘No! you little impudent rascal but 1 11 take you away; and when your mother comes for you, I will treat her so well, that I’ll make your father fol low after.” Thus came happiness at the heels of ruin.—If husbands of ener apprecia ted the exquisite and heaven like af fection of their wives, many happier •firesides would be seen. One in life and one in mind, ought to be the mot to of every married pair. And fathers would many rimes, heck improvidence, if they were to make use of affection and kindness, rather than prejudice & strictness. termined to try my father. He lov ed me when I was a boy—was proud of me. It is true, I have acted dis honorably by him. Yesterday I spoke harshly ofhirn; but I did not then know myself. Your dear affection my wife, has completely altered me. I never can forget my ill treatment towards you; but I will make up for it—1 will —indeed I will—Nay, do not—do not grieve in this way—this is worse to me than all—your young ones, my vv.fe—I will be back soon.’ The children appeared in the break fast robin. M .ry was ready with her smiie, and the boy was anxious for the notice of his father. After a short space of time, Mr. F. returned. ‘Why so pale, my husband! will your parent not assist you.’ We must indeed sink, my love! He will not assist me. lie upbraid ed me: I did not, I could not answer him a word. He spoke kindly of you and your little ones, but be has cast us off forever.’ The distressed man had scarcely said this, when a person rudely came in. The purport of lus visit was soon perceived. In the name of Fs father he took possession of the property, and iie had the power to make F. a pris oner. ‘You shall not take papa away,’ said the little son, at the same time kick ing at the officer. ‘Mamma,’ whispered Mary, must my fattier go to prison—wont they let us go too?” ‘Here comes my authority,’ said the deputy sheriff. The elder Mr. F. doggedly placed himself in a chair. •Vou shall not take my papa away.’ cried out the boy to his grandfather. ‘ Whatever may have been ray con duct sir,’ said the miserable Edward ‘this is unkind for you. I have not a single feeling for myself, but my wife —my children—you have no right thus to harrass them with your pres ence.’ •Nay husband,’ responded Mrs. F. ‘think not of me. Your father cannot distress me I have not known you Ed ward from your childhood as he has done, hut he shall see how I can din to you —can he be proud of you in your poverty, lie has forgotten your youth ful days—he has lost sight of his own thoughtless years The old gentleman directed his law agent to leave the room. He then slowly, yet nervously answered thus ‘Madam, f have not forgot my own thoughtless days. I have not forgot ten that I once had a wife as amiable and noble minded as yourself—and I have not forgotten that your husband washer favorite child. An old man hides his sorrows; but let not the world therefore think him unfeeling— well us of had hours. You wrong ijae—you wrong yourself, thus to let 1 especially as that world taught him so pcii to the depth of about eighteen RUINS OF POMPEII. Pompeii stands at the foot of Vesuvius, which rises with inijestic grandeur m the midst of a plain, called by the an cients Campania. Its walls were once washed by the waves but the sea has since retired to some distance. Placed on an insulated elevation, formed of the lava, and by some thought the summit of a voleauo, on the borders of a sea celebrated for the beauty of its shores, at the entrance of a fertile plain, and watered by a pure stream, Pompeii offered a posi tion, strong in military point of view, and favorable to commerce: nor was i<s situation less enchanting Loin be ing surrounded by villas, which, like so many gems, adorned the neighbor ing declivities of Vesuvius. The Pompeians in the midst of their tran quil existence, in the month of Feb ruary, A. D. G3, weie surprised by a terrible earthquake and eruption, which caused considerable damage. As soon ns the inhabitants bad recov ered from their consternation, they began to clear away the rui-.s, and to repair the damage sustained by the edifices; a fact that is evident from the quantity of parts wanting in many of the buildings, even at, this time. Their architectural taste, however, seems to have become materially cor rupt, and purer details are covered by stuccoes, composed in a barbarous style, After an interval of sixteen years, during which several shocks were experienced—on the night of the 33d of August, A. D. 79, a vol ume of smoke and ashes issued from tlie mouth of the crater of Vesuvius, with a tremendous explosion: after rising to a certain height, it extended itself iike a lofty pine, and assuming a variety of colors, fell and covered the suriounding country with desola tion and dismay. The inhabitants, terrified by repeated shocks, and breathing an atmosphere no longer fit to support life, sought refuge in flight, but were suffocated by the ashes, op pressed by flames of fire, overwhelm ed by failing ediliees. Some skele tons which have been found, shew the futility of the attempt in many instan ces:—here a master seeks for safety, and is arrested at the threshold of his door by a shower of ashes; he carries in his hand keys, coins, and precious ornaments, and is followed by a slave bearing vessels of silver and bronze;— there we discover the skeletons of a group of females, one of whom is a- dorned with gold trinkets—and the impressions of some of the forms re main traced upon the ashes! At length, after four days of impenetra ble darkness, light re-appeared, but sombre, as when an eclipse obscures 'he brilliancy of the sun’s rays Herculaneum, which lies about nine miles distant was. destroyed at the same time; but being imbedded in a compact volcanic matter, it is cover ed so as to render its excavation a matter, it is covered so as to render its excavation a matter of extreme difficulty; and its being situate under two modern villages and several pal aces, precludes the possibility of con tinuing the researches alreaijy begun. The lighter ashes which cover Pom enluries.acountryman.ashe was turn' ing up the ground, accidentally found a bronze figure. This discovery ex cited the attention of the learned, and the government immediately appro priated to itself the right of further researches, which, however, it did not commence till the year 1748, a- bout eight years after the first discov ery. The excavations were prosecuted with little energy till the arrival of the French, who cleared away the greater part of that which is now o- pen. The return of the King suspend ed the works for a time, but they were resumed, though with less ac tivity. This is to be regretted, as the progress of excavation is so slow that the present generation will reap, comparatively, few advantages from the discoveries. It has been remarked that Pompeii bears a strong resemblance to modern Italian towns, and that in point of gen eral appearenee, it is superior to them. More than 500 feet of the town wall have been completely cleared. It is from eighteen to twenty feet high, twelve feet thick, and is fortified at short intervals, with square towers. In the main street, whi< h passes in f ont of the temple of Isis, the portico of the Theatre has been discovered, and near the same spot, ten feet be low the level of the street, was found human skeleton, - and immediately beneath it a large collection of gold and silver medals in the finest state of preservation, and chiefly belonging to the reign of Dornitian. • Beneath a suberb portico in the street of the tombs a number of skel etons have been discovered; among which, are those of a female and sev eral children. Among the bones were found several ear-ings, and three finger-rings. Amon • the vases which were discovered, there were two having a small quantity of water at the bottom. The water was limped and tasteless in the one; and in the other it was of a brownish tinge, and had the taste of lie.—Christian Guar dian. F om the Juvenile Miscellany. THE AMERICAN TRAVELLER Few men have done so much in a short life as John Ledyard. When he was a small boy, he built a canoe with his own hands, and descended Connecticut river, alone and unassist ed. He enlisted as a soldier, at Gi braitar, and afterwards, in the humble character of coporal of the marines he sailed round the world with the cel ebrated Captain Cook. After his re turn to England, he formed the bold design of traversing the northern parts of Europe and Asia, crossing Bher ing’s Straits, and examining the whole of North America, from east to west Sir Joseph Bankes, famous for his generosity to men of enterprise, fur nished him with money for the under taking- He expended nearlj all of it in purchasing sea stores and these most unluckily, were all seized by custom officer, on account of some ar tides which the English law forbade to be exported. Poor Ledyard was now in utter poverty; but he was resolute man, and he would not be discouraged. With only ten guineas in his purse, he attempted to walk over the greatest part of three continents He walked through Denmark and Sweden, and attempted to cross the Gulf of Bothnia, on his way to Sibe ria; but when he reached the middle of that island sea, he found the wat er was not frozen, and he was obliged to foot it back to Stockholm. He then travelled round the head of the gulf, and descended to St. Petersburgh.- Dere he was soon discovered to be man of talents and activity, and though he was without, money and absolutely destitute of stockings & shoes, Jie was treated with great attention. ^The Portuguese ambassador invited him to dine, and was so much pleased with him, that he used his influence to ob* tain for him a free passage in the go vernment wagons, then going to Irk utsk in Siberia, at the command of the Empress Katheriuc. He went from this place to Vakutz; and there a- waited the opening of Spring, full of the animating hope of completing . is wearisome journey. But misfortunes seemed to follow him wherever he went. The Empress could not be lieve that any man in his senses .was ti a veiling through the ice and snows of uncivilized Siberia, merely for the sake of seeing the country, the people, &c. She imagined that be was an English spy, sent there merely for the purpose of prying into the state of her mpire and her government. She therefore employed two Russian sol* dieFs.io seize him and convey him out of her dominions. Taken he knew not why—obliged to go off' without hist clothes, his money, or his papers—he was seated in one of the strange look- sledges used in those northern de serts, and carried through Tartary and White Russia, to the frontiers of Po land. Covered with dirty rans, worn out with hardships, sick almost unto death, without friends aqd without money, he begged hi3 way to Connings- burgh, in Prussia. In this hour of deep distress, he? found a person willing to take bis draft for five guineas, on the Royal Society of England. With this as sistance, he arrived in the land of our forelathers. He immediately applied to his ever rjeady friend, Sir Joseph Bankes, for employment. Sir Joseph, knowing 'hat nothing suited him better than perilous adventures, told him that a company had just, been formed, for the purpose of penetrating into the interior of Africa, and discovering the source of the river Niger. Burning sands, savage negroes, venomous ser pents, all the frightful animals of the torrid zone, could not alarm the intre pid soul of Ledyard. He immediate ly expressed his desire to go. When the map W'as spread before him, and his dangerous journey pointed out, he promptly exclaimed, “ I will go to morrow morning.” The gentleman smiled at his eagerness, and gladly entrusted him with an expedition in which suffering and peril were cer tain, and success extremely doubtful. He left London on the 30th of June, fV&8, and arrived at Grand Cairo, on the 19th of August. There lie spent Ins time to great advantage, in search ing lor, and deciphering the various wonders of that ancient, and once H learned laud. His letters from Egypt ^ were delightful. They showed much M enthusiasm, united with the most pa- ffient and laborious exertion. The company formed great hopes concerning his discoveries in Senaar, and awaited letters from that country with much anxiety. But, alas, he never reached there. He was seized with a violent illness at Cairo; died; and was decently buried beside the English, who had ended their days in that celebrated city. We should never read accounts of great or good men, without learning some profitable lesson. If we cannot, like Ledyard, defend Gibraltar, sail round the world with Captain Cook; project trading voyages to the North west coast; study Egyptian hieroglyph ics; and traverse the dreary north ern zone, we can at least, learn from him the important lesson of persever ance. The boy who perseveringly pores over a hard lesson, and who will not give up an intrioate problem, un til he has studied it out, forms a habit, which, in after life, will make him a great man; and he who resolutely struggles against his own indolence, violent temper,■'or any other bad pro pensity, will most assuredly be a good one. and, Mortality fifty ~ 2.—M. Chateaunenf, af> years ago nowin Europe ter investigating the subject "with much care, considers the following facts as sufficiently established :-Fifty years ago one half of thfe children born in Europe died in the first ten years; now only 38 in 100. Fifty years ago 74 person's in 100 died from birth to 50 y.ears, now only. 66 la 100. Fifty years ago only 18 persons in 100 arrived at the age of 60; now 26 in 100. Fifty years ago there was one death annually in 32 individuals; now there is only one death in 40 individu als. Mr. Pitkin’s work on the Civil His tory of the U. States’ Government, is in the press and will be published in the course of the ensuing summer —N. Y Observer*