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‘* TKni ha ben sic gesagt ?” : **j>’ 1 lie
German in a querulous manner, brushing
more furiously at -the walls os lie spoke.
•’ What 1’! said Ichabod.
** It's-another parley roo,” said Jemima.
“ No, it aint.” returned Ichabod ; “ ther’s
no hair do his face. Look here—sriv, mis
ter 1” : , ‘
“ Ichfcrstek ihn nieht,” etfclaimed-ilie sur
ly German.
“ Darnalion ! if there's any gitfiti’ a word
**ut o’ them at all in English, Jemima ! and,
by hokey, I don’t know what to do. Let’s
go on.”
At length they came to a house with a
courteous Frenchman in it, who could un
derstand them and speak tlieir own lan
guage. He told them they could have the
house on the Ist of November, and that the
rent would be twenty-five dollars per month.
Reckon that’s 100 much—aim it. Jemi
ma ? Couldn’t say fifteen—could you 1”
said Ichabod, turning to his friend.
Ah, tin, sair—twenty-five dollar is too
much low.’’ “ ■
‘• Rather guess it's too high,” said Icha-
Tiod. “You aint got no objections to let us
seo it. have you 1”
“ No, monsieur”
“ Well, I swon ! you talk English raal
good for u parley roo.”
“ O, monsieur, rengainez r.os rompfimrns,”
said the Frenchman with a low bow.
“ Well, that aint so good,” returned Irii
aboJ; “ but howsomever, I reckon this
house is ton high.”
” One story —it is no more t” replied the
Frenchman, shrugging up his shoulders and
raising his eyebrows.
“ No, no,” said Ichabod; “ I mean the
rent is too high.”
” Ah, de rent!—O, no, sair ; it is sheep—
rery sheep,” returned the French landlord.
“ Sheep,” said Tcbabod— * well, any how,
1 guess I aint sheep enough to give it.—
flood morning, mnutiseer; guess we'Ji have
to go furthpr.”
There was a good long bowing match be
tween the Frenchman and the Yankee, for
Ichabod seemed to be determined not to be
outdone in civility ; but be got tired at last,
and said he’d be “ dod denied if he’d break
his neck, bowing, for any parley too.”
At length the Yankee stranger was di
rected to a house which promised to suit his
economical views; ami after a little fur
ther difficulty he found out the landlord,
who was also a Frenchman, and, with ac
customed courtesy, Ichabod and Jemima
were requested to take seats and remain fur
a few moments. Presently the other gen
tleman rose to depart saying as ho left,
” Then, this afternoon the lease will be
ready 1”
“ Dig afternoon, sair—yes, sair,” said the
Frenchman.
“Ah, yes!—now, sair,” he continued,
turning to Ichabod. ;
** Well,” said Ichabod, I reckon I only
jest come to look after that house you’ve got
to let.”
“ Sair, it is just gone out the door!” said
the Frenchman.
“ Hey !” ejaculate ! Ichabod.
“Yes, sair. Ha! ha! yon say funny—
you come to look after. Yes. sair; you
shall look out, and you shall look after toe
house! Ha, ha, ha! Yes, sair. Moiirieur,
I must tell you the gentleman von see go
out the door has lake the house with him,
Ha, ha!—yes, look after! After is a droll
word.”
Ichabod found another house, arid anoth
er old Fienchmnn was the landlord. It was
a poor little shanty, with only two diminu
tive and inconvenient rooms, and yet the
first question the gouty, snuffy old French
man asked of Ichabod, when the application
was made, was—“ Well, sair, what is you
want for de house? It no is for boarding
house ?”
“ No,” said Ichahod.
No, sair; I will not let my house for a
boarding-house, de people are so careless
and so mischievous—dey break, and dey
cut up evety ting! Sair, you no are Yan
kee ?”
“ I’m from down-east,” said Ichabod.
“ Ah, yes ; you no are Yankee?”
” Why, bless you, I’m from way down
cast!” replied the sly Yankee; and the
Frenchman would have sworn that he had
got au answer in the negative.
”Eh,bien! Ido not like Yankee mail
—On ne sail a quelle sauce le mrttre. He
will always have knife, and veettle, weeitie,
resettle —he will cut up all what is come in
his way. 1 will no let my house to Y ankre
man.”
Ichabod didn’t relish this fellow, and left
him. He wandered about almost from one
end of the city to the other, and got at lust
n flue, pleasant,and even commodious house,
for fifteen dollars a month, high up in the
second muneipafity, among those streets
with the classic names, this side of Lafay
ette, Now, we shall see Ichabod in ten
years a rich man.
J Costly Trophy. —We find the follow
ing in one of Mr. Weed’s letters from Eng
land f
The dining litiJl at Chelsea hospital is
hung with trophy colors atid stondanh, from
the Duke of Miu leborough’s victorious bat
tle of Hleniieiin, Vo the inglorious butcheries
ut Urn British army i China. Among these
emblems of British valor, nre the sanguina
ry evidences that England has been fli. war
with almost all the nations of the earth.—
There are three Mauds of American colors,
displayed in the hull. Otic was taken at
Washington, 1 could not learn tire history
sis the other two; but au old veteran, who
heard me inquiring, came up anil remarked
that lie hua'ti.a pensioner, who was in the
fight when ne of them was taken, say—
'• that stand of colors cast most more British
blood than any other stand of colors in the
hall.” There.is nothing very mortifying in
aeeing two or three cajitive American ea
gle*, with ”B Pturibus Unum” in a scroll
suspended from their talons, ptovided-lbeje
is neither dishonor nor cowardice united
with their capture. And, il it were other
wise, I should be indemnified by the reflec
tion that in the way of trophies, we can dis
play ten times the number of British colors,_
flags, cannon, and ships of war: evidences
of American valor and prowess,
mQB©EtL L A M Y ■
THE GROWTH AND POWER OF
THE UNITED STATES,
i Since the complete establishment of the
i American constitutional government, the fu
i tore growth and ultimate power of the (Jni
• ted States have been n problem both with
philosophers and political economists.—
There are two strongly-exciting causes to
this species of speculation. The first to dis
cover the effect of the freest institutions man
: kind lias ever adopted, on the happiness and
! prosperity of the people under their influ
ent** ; ar.d the next to discover the natural
i growth of the only nation which, since the
earliest ages of the world, lias born left un
disturbed in its natural progress. Half a
century has not wholly determined these
problems, beyond a contingency : but it has
furnished us with some elements of the ul
timate result. Those, especially, which re
late to physical grywih and power, may be
regarded as leading to certainties of result,
beyond any disturbing causes, except that
of Divine Providence. The future prospect
is important, in considering our relations
with other nations, and in determining our
j national policy. For this cause we piopose
i to take a biids-eye view of the natural ca
| pabilities of the United States.
| The surface of the United States compre
j bench a space of about two millions two
hundred anJ fifty thousand square miles,
and is about one twentieth of the land surf ace
of the Earth, More than oue half of this
surface lies between the 35th and 45th de
gree of latitude. It is, therefore, in the very
beaitof the temperate zone, whete nature
brings men and fiuits to the highest meas
ure of comparative excellence.
The circumference or border line of the
United States is about nine thousand fee
hundred miles in length. It may be divided
thus:
Boundary in common with Brit*
i jsh N. America, about, 3,700 miles,
i’oundary in common with Mex
ico, 2,300 “
Coast or’the Pacific, 700 “
Coast of the gulf of Mexico, 1,000 “
Coast of the Atlantic, I,SOO “
Total, 0,700
The territory thus enclosed includes also
nearly ten thousand miles of lahc and riv'f
navigation, of which two tliiids is in the val
ley of the Mississippi. The great lakes
make a chain of about two thousand miles ;
the Mississippi two thousand more; the
Missouri two thousand more : the Ohio near
ly one thousand ; and hundreds of minor
streams from the St. Croix to the Sabine,
make up thousands more.
It is important to observe, that this exten
sive country is admitted by geographers of
foreign nations to have the most various
soil, climate, and pioductions, of any coun
try upon the globe. The inevitable conse
quence is, that its capabilities tor population
ami wealth are correspondingly great. No
country can surpass it in the capacity for
production.
Os the whole two millions two hundred
thousand square miles of surface, only about
two bundled and fifty five thousand lie in
the Atlantic slope, and two thirds of the
whole lie in the valley of the Mississippi.—
To estimate rightly the population which,
under the natural and well-known laws of
increase, will arise and be readily maintain
ed on this suiface, it is necessary first to
consider for a moment the arability andfer
tility oftlie Mississippi basin.
The first fact we observe is, tbit the riv
ers of this basin are remarkably long. For
example, the main stream ot the Mississip
pi rises,near latitude 48 degrees, and joins
the gulf of Mexico about 29 degrees—thus
running through about 20 degrees of lati
tude.
The Red river, of Louisiana, is estimated
by Mr. Darby at one thousand miles in
length. The Ohio, on the eastern ride, is
also one thousand, ascending to the heads
of the Monongahcla, and Allegany. The
result ol this is of vast importance. The
rains and melted biiows, which occasion the
annual floods, fall oil distant mountains, and
raise those streams to great heights, pouring
forth a vast volume of water. In propor
tion to the length ot rivers, and their annual
rise, must nrressaiily be the alluvial lands
they feed. This is sufficiently illustrated
by the liver Nile, whose annual floods, com
ing from the distant mountains of Africa,
occasion the fertility of Egypt.
In connexion with this fact, we have an
other of equal consequence : that in this vast
region there is very little space occupied by
mountains, marshes, or lakes, incapable of
production. Almost the whole suiface is
arable. These great facts, taken in connex
ion with its locality in the midst of the tem
perate zone, determine the conclusion, that
this great American basin is capable of pro
ducing more grain, and consequently main
tabling more peoplo than any other equal
space on earth. So far p.s our cultivation
i has extended, the practical result corres-
I ponds with this theory deduced from geo-
I graphical facts.
The question of American population has
i become of great interest to speculators on
the future progress and condition oflhe hu
man family : for, heretofore, the United
States has populated with a rapidity beyond
any conceptions vvliich had been formed
1 from the basis of European statistics. In
the various estimates which have been made
! of the progress of American population,
, there are two, particularly of note. One by
i Darby, in a most excellent work, “ View of
ilit.* United Status;” and the other by Pro
feasot Tucker.
Mi. Derby’s estimate was made before
the census of 1830, and is therefore subject
to two tests:
Estimate. Reality.
1830 14,094.000 12,56G,000
1840 19.335,000 17,063,000
But an important fact is to be noticed.—
The greatest error in Mr. Darby’s estimate
was in the number of slaves, which accoul
ing to his estimate
Would have lieen in 1840, 4,114,000,
But were ir. fact, 2,487,000.
Being a difference of estimate equal to !
more than one half the whole number of
slaves. It is to bo observed that this over
estimate of the growth of the slave popula
tion has pervaded tba calculation of all wri
Urn m mm & w ah tr*
| ters on the subject. They have never al*
i lowed enough for the two ceat slarr-rluhs,
| emancipation and bail fotubticii. Mr. Der
by proceeds to make nri estimate for . ..< !
’ year till 1940, one century from tins time.
The following arc some of the results : •
IS6O, 3:>. 167.000,
1900, 115,000,000,’
1940, 386,000,000.
Professor Tin ker. in his calculations, pub
lished in Hunt’s Merchants’ Magazine, as
sumes that the ratio by winch our popula
tion lias increased will not long continue the
same but will gradually diminish as the
number c.F ireisons increese to the square
mile. This is u mere matter of speculation ;
but when the people have become very
dense, undoubtedly this is ttue ; but Rscach
new State is as fresh and fruitful as the old
est was, this check will nor happen very
soon. It is to lie observed that the in< tease
from 1820 to 18 to was pt r cent., which
dAt i hies in little more than twenty-four yenaa.
This ration on the population extant one
bundled years ago, will give ike oreM-nt ac
tual result. So that this is the i ni •ntm? .
increase of the American population. Pin
fessor Tucker’s calculations give these it
suits :
1900, 80.000,000,
1940. 200.000,000.
Comparing the estimate of Darby and
Tucker, and taking the mean, it may be con
sidered certain that, without Divine interpo
sition to the contraiy, one century vu!l in
crease the population of the United States
to three hundred, million.
It may he interesting to ti v the ulti- J
mate capabilities of the American tet. w ,
Ireland contains eighteen thousand six bun- j
dred miles sqtiate of surface, arid eight mil- j
lions of persons. Notwithstanding this di
versity of population. Ireland has yet a great
deal of waste land. It|isceitain thet the
United States ran contain as great a propor
tional population as Ireland. Take the
same proportion, and it gives the United
States an ultimate capacity of containing
right hundred millions of people, more than
the entire population of the globe! In a
historical point of view', the period may not
be long before that prodigious result is
reached ; for, in history, two or three cen
turies is not a great pillion of time. There
is nothing in all this for the people of the
United Slates to make a boast of; but there
js much for gratitude, and much for courem
phSion. Tho present generation will nev
er see those astonishing results ; but they
are doing what will certainly influence
widely these advancing millions. We do
not believe that pcditical society admits of
much reformation in its old age, which w;is
not attempted in its youth, any more than
an old man is apt to chan ire the habits ot his
life. The foundations we w ish the- vart po
litical society to stand upon, we ought to
have no! only laid, but iuum fimily built op
at this very time. In \rin and we ginw.it
we grow not wisely. The power which tbi >
United States must have to mriUmii a hap
py liberty, is an intelligent moral power
They must do right, and do right intelligent
ly. The great levers of this power ate the
school, the press, and the church. The
school needs to he more elevated, the press
to be purer and bettor. Con we not attain
a higher and better standard ? To a nation
like our own ir.gnorance is death ; the loss
of virtue annihilation. We are trying to
unite interests the most diverse and jarring,
and to bind in one bond of union the hot and
fiery disposition of the man living within the
tropic, with the cold calculating inhabitant
of the Green moimtain ; but men of all cli
mates are not men of one mind—their char
acter is moulded by the things passing
around them : it lakes a stamp ftom the
scenes of early life, an impress from nature.
The Italians, under all their changes of gov
ernment, are continually the same people.
Overcome, trodden down, trampled under
foot, there is an elastic resiliency that forev
er hears them up again. It matters not
vvliat public calamities betide them, or what !
national woes are stored up for them in the
tomb of time, another Volta w ill reveal the
mysteries of nature —another Canova will
breathe the breath of life into the muiLles
ofCartara—anothei Catalina will euchni
all Europe with her song. The san e causes
which determine these things there, arc in
tenfold action here. We have no surely of
continuance, except from the increasing in
telligence of our people.
Tragedy prevented by Farce During
the French Revolution, when a fVantn l ali
ble, on slight provocation, hung any man on
the nearest lamp-po-t M chau, the comic
actor, fell into iiie u it, is of . Ueel parad
ing banditti, who d> toed him to die in hon
or of tin* Cap of Liberty. His a -;!nw* .a
selected, iiis coat taken off, and the lope
about to be put round his neck, when a
butcher boy, who had seen him perform,
came to his assistance, “Madmen! you
know not what you do. You ore going to ‘
bang Punch of the Republic?” (r he (joined ie
Frftocais was at that time called the. The- !
Stic de la Ropubliqiie). Thanks to his ti- I
tic of Punch, bestowed on him by the butch- ‘
er, Michau found himself at liberty, nd i< !
said to have accepted the apologii :■ winch ‘
Hvo hundred ruffians offered • <ol!y, for
their design ofhanging him, ns if tin y had
simply trodden on bis toes. i
A Genius. —There is a genius in Portland,
Main,who, as the tiansceiideutatist would
say, is individuality with duialily and | b.,,d
----ily. His name is Daniel Evans, Hr prints
mourning pieces, makes card melts,exp ,nds
scripture, composes spiritual soi*/aud tern- i
perance ballads, is a professor! of animal i
magnetism, neurology, phrenology and as- i
trology, tells fortunes, extracts eoiW charms
away warts, gives recipes for the compound- |
irgof matchlesssanatives, life piling revivify
ing elixirs .and poor men’s plasters, iaKi •
portraits and miniatures, is n main on the
fiddle, accordion and jew’a-harp, extracts
teeth, defies the world as an inventor of per
petual motions, knows llyle by heart, is ft
caution to Millerism, and cun turn twenty
three somersets without stopping !
Hl-Assorted Marriage. Life has no
wretchedness equal to an ill-assorted mar
riage-.i: is the sepulchre of the heart, haunt- j
ed by the ghost of past affections, and hopes 1
£ou e by forever,
The Unfaithful Servant —A noble Duke
I of Scotland, in one of his’ walks, chanced
[ one day to see a very fine cow. Having
j ai-certiiiried to whom the animal belonged,
f he* went to the owner, Btul offered him 8
handsom price for her. For a time the lat
*ter hesitated, hut at length accepted it, and
promised to drive the cow the next morn
ing.
Not finding it convenient to go himself,
the frirmet sent his boy to drive the cow.—
On approaching the house, the animal ap
peared frightened, and refused to proceed.
At the time, the Duke happened to be walk
: ing at ti short distance, and the hoy, not
l knowing who he was, craved his assistance,
; in hi- Scotch brogue.
“ Heh, mull, come here, trst’ gic’a a ban’
1 wT this beast.”
I The Duke, perceiving the hoy's mistake,
; ptiiMierl his walk, without appearing to un
derstand if. In the maen time, the cow” bc
i hrne slid more unmanageable, upon which
tlic lad, with a tone of apparent distress,
j ‘-tied out, “ Come here, mun. and as sure's
anything, I'll g ; e ye the haufo’ what I get.”
i I*l nfed with the boy’s manner, and es
• • :liv wirh hia generosity, the Duke now
| stepped forward as requested, and lent a
. helping hand.
“ And now,” said the Duke, as they drove
the cow forward, “how much do you think
you will get for this job ?”
“ Oh, l dinna ken,” said the boy, but I’m
sure’o something, for the folk up bye at the
i house are gtiid to a’ bodies.”
As they approached the house, the Duke
j <!;u ted by the hoy, ami, entered by a private
way, called a servant, and putting a sover
| eign into his. hand, bid him give it to the
i boy that diove the cow.
The Duke now returned to the avenue,
and was soor. rejoined by the hoy.
“ Well, and bow much did you get, my
lad ?” inquired tbe Duke.
“A shilling,'’ said the boy, “and here's
hslf o’t t’ ye.”
“ A shilling !” rejoined the Duke, “ only
a shilling ! got no more.”
“ No i dinna,” said tbe hoy with great
earnestness, “as sine’s death, that’s a’l got
and d’ye no think it plenty ?”
“ 1 do not,” said the Duke ; “there must
be some mistake, and as I am acquainted
with tbe Duke, if you’ll return with me, I’ll
g* f you some more money.”
The bov consented, ud back they went.
The Duke tang the bell, and ordered all the
servants to he assembled.
“ Now,” said the Duke to the boy, “point
out to me the person that gave you the shil
ling.”
“It was the chap there, wi’ the white
apron,” said the boy pointing to the bailer.
“Yu:, villian” said the Duke.
Tlu* butler fell upon his knees, and con
fessed the wricked act.
‘• Give the bov the sovereign, and im
mediately leave y bouse,” said the Duke.
The liutler implored.
“No,” said The Di:*u\ “'you are no long
er to be trusted. You htiVe fi*en detected
.a an act of villisny, which renders'Vou unfit
to set ve me. You have lost your shilling,
your situation, and your character. Go, end
henceforth learn that ‘honesty is the best
policy.’ ”
By this time, the boy discovered to his
am aztmiont, his assistant, in the person of
the Duke; and the Duke was so delighted
with the sterling worth and honesty of the
boy, that be ordered l int to be sent to
school, and to be provided for at hij own
expense.
The Furlough. —ln the autumn of 1825
some private affairs called me into the sif
ter kingdom ; and as 1 did not travel, like
Polyphemus, with my eye out, I gatedred a
few samples of Irish character, amongst
which was the following incident :
1 was standing one morning at the win
dow of •* mine Inn,” when my attention was
attracted by a scene tfa* took place beneath,
The Belfast coach was standing nt the floor,
ami on the ‘ oof, in front, srie a solitary out
side p.i-seiigt i, a fine young fellow in tbe
uniform of 1 1• • - Connaught Rangers, Be
low, by the front wheel, stood an old wo
man, seemingly bis mother; a young wo
.man, sister ei sweetheart ; and they were
all earnestly entreating tbe young soldier to
dr sceiid from his seat on the coach.
“ Come Uown will ye, Thady”—the speak
er was the old woman—“ come down now
to your oul.l mother; sure it’s flog ve they
will and strip the flesh off the hones iv ye.
Come down, Thady, dariin.”
“ It’s honor, mother,” was the short reply
of the soldier; and with clenched hands
and set teeth, he took a suffer posture on
the coach.
“ Thady, come down—come down, ye
fool of the world—come along down wid
ye.” The tone of the present appeal was
more impatient an I peremptory than the
last ; and the answer was more promptly
and sternly pronounced : “ It’s honor, bro
ther,” and the body of tbe speaker rose
more rigidlv erect than ever on the roof.
“ O Thady. cutne down, sure it’s me,
your own Kathleen, that bids ye, come
down, or ye’ll break the heart of me, Tha
dy jewel: come down then.” The poor
girl wrung fi. r hands ns she said it, and
c't-u . look up Mi ‘ ‘fiat hud a visible effect
on flip nu . o’ 1 1- ■ ,■ ‘..uiui iuii.ee.
Filet;- , • • .'i rr.f ,in ‘stone, but
i ...- :,.n. i ..a on as bef.ne.
’ !. -is n >r, ii; • r bright, Kathleen,” and
as n to (i. tfi.ni himself from another glance,
no fixed his look steadfastly in front, while
the renewed cnticaties burst from all three
in chorus, with the same answer.
“-Come down, Thady, honey. Thady,
ye fool, come down. O Thady come down
to me.”
honor mother, it's honor, brother,
xronoi ought, tin • • vvii Kathleen.”
Although the poor fellow was a private,
this appeal was so public that 1 did not hes
itate to go down and inqtiiie into the partic
ulars of flie distress. It appeared that he
had been home, on furlough, to visit his lani- |
<ily, and having exceeded, as lie thought, the
term of his leave, he was going to rejoin
his regiment, and to undergo the peuulty of
his neglect. 1 Hiked him when the fur
lough expired ?
“ The first of Match, your honor— had
luek to it of pll the hlaek day* in the world
—and here it is, come sudden on me, like a
shot.”
“ The first of March, wliy my good fel
low, you have a day to spare then—the first
of March will not lie here till to-morrow. —
It is leap year, and February has twenty
nine days.”
Theaoldier was thunder-struck. “Twen
ty-nine days is it ? you’re sartain of that
same. Oh, mother, mother, the devil lly
away wid yere mild almanack—a base crn
tur of a book, to be decaven one, afthsr so
i lone: in the family of us.”
His first impulse was to cut a caper on
tiieroof of the coarb, and throw up bis cap
with a loud hurrah. His second was to
throw himself intothe arms of his Kathleen ;
and the third was to wring my hand off in
acknowledgement.
“ It’s a happy man I am, your honor, for
my word’s saved, and all by your honor’s
manes. Long life to your honor for the
same. May ye live a long hundred—and
lspe-year everyone of them.”
The Romance of the Past. —We have on
our table, the address of the Hot:. George
Robertson delivered othe4lh of July, 1843,
at Camp Madison, Iv"< It is full of inletest
ing historical details, and abounds in wise
remark and just reflection. The orator did
well, however, in going back to the early
days of the West: to the first settlements,
when thick per il surrounded every log but,
when every inhabitant cultivated his field,
or worshipped his God, with arms in his
hands ; and when woman, as well as man,
felt as if she too must sustain even the stur
dier duties oflife. Scene? like there were
often full of romantic incident and wild ad
venture, and sounding to us nunc like fic
tion than truth. The following narration is
one among many refer red to by Judge Rob
ertson, and will not fail to interest many, if
not all our readers ; — Cin. Gaz.
And in “the Blue Lick defeat,” August
tire 20th, 1788, the cormorant of death fed
greedily on the flower of the first settlement
On that darkest of their gloomy days every
settler lost a friend, and nearly every family
a prop. And on that bloody field the Cols.
Todd and Ttigg- ti e chivi Ir.ms Capt. liar
land, and the gallant son of Boone, lay un
distinguished among the promiscuous slain,
all soon mangled by devouring wolves and
vulters, so as nut to lie recognized by their
friends who, three days slier the battle bu
ried the fragments. A few of their crum
bling bones, since collected by their country
men, now lie exposed to the elements, in a
confused pile, on the summit of the bleak
and rocky plain where the heroes fell. We
! cannot now imagine the grief and despon
dence with which the mournful intelligence
of that day’s catastrophe coveted the land.
But the survivors, though wofnlly bereaved,
were not to be discouraged or dismayed.—
f They were resolved never to look back or
faltei in theirfirst and Inst resolve to conquer
tlie wilderness or die in the attempt. Is
rae ‘ God stood by cud sustained the no
ble but forlorn band— fi.i their cause was
his. On the long roll of that days reported
slain were the names of a few who had in
fact been captured, and, after sutviving the
oidcoi of ibe gauntlet, had been pennitted
to live as captives. Among- these was an
excellent husband and father who, with elev
en other captives, had been taken by a tribe,
painted black as the signal of torture and
death to all. The night after the battle,
tin so twelve prisoners were stripped and
placed in n line on a log—lie to whom we
have especially alluded being at one extrem
ity of the devoted row.
The cruel captors, then beginning at the
other end, slaughtered eleven, one by one ;
but when they cairn to tht only survivor,
though they raised him up also and diew
theii bloody knives to strike under each up
lifted arm, they puu.-i<\ mid after a long
pow wow. spared his lit* —why, be never
knew. Foi about’ 0.0 year none of bis
friends, t xc< pting his faithful wife, doubted
lis dentil. She, hoping against reason, still
insisted that he lived and would return to
her. Wooed by another, she from time to
time, postponed the nuptials, declaring that
she could not divest herself of the beliefthat
her husband survived. Her expostulating
friends finally succeeding in their efforts to
stifle lier affectionate instinct, she reluctant
ly yielded, and the nuptial day was fixed.
But just before it dawned the crack of a rifle
was heard near bet lonly cabir:—at the fa
miliar sound, she leaped out, likpa liberated
fawn, ejaculating us sprang—“ that's
John's gun l” It was John’s gun, sure
enough; and, in an instant, site was, once
more, in her lost husband’s arms. But nine
years afterwards, that same husband fell in
“ St. Clair’s defeat”—and the same disap
pointed, but persevering, lover renewed bis
suit—and at last, this widow became bis
wife Thcscenenf theso romantic incidents
was within gunshot of mv natal homestead,
and with that noble wife and matron I was
myself well acquainted.
Over-Education. —At no period of youth
should education he pushed beyond its prop
er limits, or the mind be worked beyond its
powers ; the welfare of the pupil demands
the observance of this rule on the part of the
master as well as the parents, more espe
cially when the child belongs to that class
of strumous children whose intellects are
pretei naturally cute. Unfortunutely, how- !
ever, these are generally the pupils selected
by the masters to do credit to their estab
lishment ; every means are taken to encour
age this premature manifestation of the
mind, and to stimulate the child to renewed
ettei lions ; and tbu3 the health is enfeebled,
aud even life is often sacrificed at a period
of brilliant promise, when the hopes of
friends are buoyed lip by fallacious expec
tations, which a more rational system of ed
ucation might have realized.
Dancing. —“ I am now an old fallow,”
says Cowper, in one of his letters ; “ but I
bad once my dancing days as you have now;
yet I could never find that 1 could learn
half so much of a woman’s real character by
dancing with her, a? conversing with her at
home, when . 1 could observe her behavior
at a table, or at the fiieside, and in all try
ing scenes of domestic life. We are ail
good, when pleased; but she is the good
woman who want* not the fiddls to sweeten
b*r,”
Polar nf the Hvdton Bay Company .—
“ Few among us are aware of the extraor
dinary resources, mid wide-spreading plana,
of this remarkable society, which has exetv
cised, in its barren domains, a steady enter
prising policy, not inferior to that of the
East India Company itself; and now, in Mr.
Fnrnham’s language, occupies and controls
more than one ninth of the soil of the globe.
The great business of this company is the
fur trade, of which it is now nearly the sole
monopolist throughout oft the choicest fur
beating regions of North Ametica, with the
exception of the portion occupied hy the
Russians. The bulk of its empire is se
cured to it hy charter; but it is in rv.’ ra _
sion ofOregon a9 debatable latid.ut t s o _
ulatiotis between Britain and t 1 nited
States. The stock holders areßio.ah; the
management of its affairs in America is car
ried on by • partners,’ so called, but, in point
of fact, agents paid by a proportion of the
net income of the company. These aro
scattered in various posts over the whole ter
ritory between Hudson’s Bay and the Pa
cific. The Governor General resides in.
Yqik Factiff"Y on the former. They are
chiefly Scotchmen; and a greater propor
tion of shrewdness, daring, and commercial
activity, is probably not to he found in the
same number of heuds in the world. Be
fore 1820. this body carried bn a fierce con
test with the Northwest Company, attend
ed with hideous battles of ludians'and half
breeds, arid the binning and sacking each
other’s posts. In 1821, thy two companies
were consolidated, since which, they have
had no British rival, aud have exerted all
•their policy to reptess ittf.inference on the
part of the Americans. In this they seem
to have thoroughly succeeded.
The attempts of the Americans to estab
lish a fur trade of their own, one by one have
ended in disappointment. Their own trap
pers arid hunters prefer the markets of the
company. Its agents seek out the Ameri
cans—so, at least, they complain—out bid
them and unoetsell them, in every point to.
w hich they can penetrate. ‘ Pacific Fur
Company’—the scheme of John Jacob As
tor, com mem morau and by Washington It vino
—those of Captain Wyeth, and many either
American adventurers, have failed agniw-t.
the strength and perseverance of the eld
monopoly. Its traders supply the demand
such as it is, both of Indians and white hun
ters, for European goods over all the mirth
west; for they are so id to sril twenty or
thirty per t enl che ape r than American
yoods; and ‘ there seems a certainty,’ savs
Mr. Farnham, ‘ that the Hudson Bay Com
pany will engross the entire trade of the
North Pacific, as it has that of the* Oregon.
So powerful is this body on the comment.,
that it has actually established a kind or a
game law over a region twice as large as
Europe, regulating the quantity of trapping
to he done in particular distiicts, ana uni
formly diminishing it whenever the returns
show a deficiency in its production of a|ii
mals. It keeps and white* in
order, by putting serious pmcticc the
threat of exclusive dealing. Mr. Farnham
met with an American in Oregon, who in
formed him that in consequence of some of
fence taken, (very unjustly, of course,) ‘the
Hudson Bay Company’ refused, for a num
ber of years, to sell him a shred of cloth ;
and as there are no other traders in the
country, ho was compelled, during their
pleasuie, to wear skins.”
An ingenious Cradle of domestic manvfac-.
lure, made by a gentleman in Mississippi*
and sent as a present to a ftierd residing in
this city. An extract from his letter is as.,
follows :(. ],o. lest or. C< V/
‘‘ The body or ftnrre of the cradle is man
ufactory and out of the shell of what we call
the Fnapfimg Turtle, that weighed 135
pounds, caught by myself, out of my own
wteis. The railing is constructed of the
boms of Bucks, killed with my own rifle, by
my own hands. The rockers are made from
s walnut tiee that grew on my sister’s plan
tation adjoining me. The spring malfrass.
or lining is stuffed with wool from mv own,
sheep. The loose mattrass is also’ filled
with’domestic wool, manufactured and lined
by mv own wife. The pillows are filled
with feathers from our own wild geese, that
have been also manufactured by my own
wife, with her own bands, after having been
previously slain by my own steady atm. —
The pavilion which von will petceivc is to
be thrown over the canopy was likewise
fabricated, fitted and <outlived by rv 1 own
right thrifty, ingenious and very indoMiioua
better heelj Accompanying the cradle is a
whistle, which Was made by a friend resid
ing with me, out of the tusk of ar. alligator*
slain by my own hand, as w ell as a fan mado
aiso by the same friend out of the tail of a
wild turkey killed by me ; cccn:nnsnymg
the whole is the hide of a panther, diessed
after the fashion of the chamois, the animal
having been slain by my own hands, and
with my own trusty rifle. This is for the
stranger to 101 l and roll upon when tired of
his cradle.
“ It has been said for the famous Colonel
Crockett, that be was fotched down upon a
raft, and rocked in a bee gum. The stran
ger, whatever may become bis name here
after, may boast that he was rocked to sleep)
in the shell of a swamp snapping turtle,
lounged ar a panthers hide, was fanned by a
wild Ini key s tail and cm b ; s teeth upon an
alligator’s tusk ! Beat this who can,”
Husbands. —The etymology of lint word
may not be generally known. Tug bead
of a family is called husband from the fact
that he is, or ought to be the band which
unites the house together—or the bond of
union among the family. It is to be regret
ted that all husbands are not house-bands in
reality as well as in name.— Mcr. Jour.
A Pun. —A wag, speaking of the embark
ation of troops, said, “ notwithstanding
many of them leave blooming wives behind,
they go ewny in transports.”
Wide Awake, —“ Come, come, pome,”
said one who was wide awake fp pr.e who
was fast asleep, “ get up, get up ; don’t you
know it’s the early bird that catches the
worm I” “ Seryes the worm right,” says
the grumbling sleeker, “ worms should
get up before the birds do I”