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■ WJffiWfir r pos ra y. From the Saturdav Evening Post. THOUGHTS ON DEATH. H <w frail this life; scaree e’er the cher- i-h* 1 hir.l O ’ ;' >nth hath Wossom’1 into manhooii’s fi.es, Wn.'D 'Lath, relentless, with unsparing haul Nips the fon 1 hope, it withers and expires. O ir* moment born, and ere another’s past From th s precarious, transient life we go, B n hut to lie, vet dying but to live Iu endless pleasures or in endless woe. O d'a h! destroyer of our fondest hopes-- Thou -au'-e of jov and vet of m sery, Who can avert thv ever threat’ning stroke, O who thy presence, ever dreaded, flee? In vam the rich man boasts his pleneteous store; In vain ho trusts him in his wealth to save,— Can sordid treasures bribe thee from his door, Or gold preserve him from the yawning grave? In vain, presummg on exalted rank, The mighty hope that death they ne’er shall see— The man of noble and ignoble birth, All, ail arc equal, in the sight of thee. The starving beggar and the feasting king, Al’ m°et at last w ; thin the silent tomb, The good, the bad, the wealthy and the poor, Await alike the self-obtained doom. SENEX. RELIANCE ON GOD. If thou hast ever felt that all on earth Is “ansient and unstable, that the hopes Which man reposes on h ; »brother man, Ar- oft but bro .en reo<Js; ifthou bast seen, That lif» itself “ is but a vapou ” spring F.om time’s up-heaving ocean—decked, p uhaps, With here and there a rainbow, but full soon To be dissolved and mingled with the vast And fathomless expanse that roll its waves On every side around h :—f thv heart Has deeply felt all this, and thus has learn ed That earth has no secuiytv; then go And place thy trust in God. The bliss of earth Is transient as the coloured light, that beams In morning dew-drops. Yet a little while, And all that earth can'shown f majesty, Of trength or loveliness hall fade away, Like vernal blossoms. From the conquci- ’ors hand The sceptre and the sword shall pass awav, The mighty ones of earth shall lay th"m down In their low beds, and death shall set his seal On beauty’s marble brow, and cold and pale,' Bloomless and voiceless shall the lovelv one? Go to the “ congregation of the dead.” Yea, more than this; the mighty rocks that lift Their solemn forms upon the mountain heights, Like time’s proud citadels, to bear the storms And wreck of ages;—these too shall decay, And Desolation’s ivy hand shall w.eve O’er all that thou canst see,—blot out the sins That shed their glory o’er uncounted worlds, Call in the distant comets from their wild And devious course, and bid them cease to move, And clothe the heavens in darkness, But the power Of God, his goodness and his grace shall he Unchanged, when all the words that he has ma le Have ceased their revolutions. When the suns That bum in yonder sky have poured their last, Their dying glory o’er the realms of sp/aee, Still God shall be the same,—the same in love, In majesty, in mercy:—then rely In faith on him, and thou shalt never find Hope disappointed or reliance vain ARCOLA. DEDICATION HYMN. L. M. 1. 4»KV, S4WU GPAAc?.*, ee<*f°e ?*, V ic (PJiycr -?>y jG@ohT.di < GTP. 2. iis T.Ge^oe.T, l<*y * ta- j>y/i ? v h>A h>H WAriS!” SCsi.A-idi? 3. J90fi TC=jaPri8A4tTi, m yAi, GTP GhSVriET., DtfW IiAjJsjt on«*u K4oEJ. 4. di» oseqAT ?GAr, nwa »a: AD GTP fcFKX GSPeJF, ©hSPotli; Z«V* KVhR. 6. di» RG^ycn-Foia, awyr Diftf Iii- V .l .lixhnivlj <6 G t> A I* oi J or) t* oi A , wlTOR Dh RtSS I-G^l SliiidfcKoi;.! IPhT, DOiriiJoiPoiJ; Dh .IGTP Bf> IvG1’P1T?<»A hAA-q. RHh. MISCELLANY. CHARACTER OF COLUMBUS. From lus life by Washington Irving, just published. A peculiar trail in his rich and va ried character, remains to be noticed; that ardent and enthusiastic imagina tion, which threw a magnificence over Ins whole style of thinking. Herrera intimates, that he had a talent lpr po etry, and some slight traces of it are on record, in the book of prophecies which he presented to the Catholic sovereigns. But his po. tical tem perament is discernible throughout all his w'ritings, and in all his actions. It spread a golden and glorious world a- round him, aud tinged every thing with its own gorgeous,less. It betrayed him into visionary speculations, whi< h subjected him to the sneers and cav illings of men of cooler and safer, but more grovelling minds. Such were the conjectures formed on the coast of Paria, about the form of the earth, and the situation of the terrestrial paradise; about the mines of Ophir. in Hispa iola, and of the Aurea Cher- sonesus, in Veragua; and such were the heroic s heme of a crusade, for the recovery of the holy sepulchre It mingled with his religion, and filled bis mind with solemn and visionary meditations on mystic passages oi scripture, and the shadowy portents of the prophecies. It exalted his of fice in his eyes, and made him con ceive himself an agent sent forth upon a sublime and awful mission subject ed to impulses and supernatural vis ions from the Deity ; such as the voice he imagined spoke to him in comforl amidst the troubles of Hispaniola, and in the silence of the night, ou the dis astrous coast of Veragua. He was decidedly a visionary, but a visionary of an uncommon and suc cessful kind. The manner in which his ardent imagination and mercurial nature were controlled by a power ful judgement and directed by an acute sagacity, is the most extraor dinary feature in his character. Thus governed his imagination, instead of wasting itself in idle soarings, lent wings to his judgement, and bore it a- vvay to conclusions at which common minds could never have arrived; nny which they could not perceive when pointed out. To his intellectual vision it was given, to read in the signs of the times and the reveries of past ages, the in dications of an unknown world, as soothsayers were said to read predic tions in the stars, and to foretel events from the visions of the night. ‘Ilis soul’ observes a Spanish writer, ‘was superior to the age in which lie lived. For him was reserved the great en terprise to plough a sea which had given rise to so many fables, and to decypher the mystery of his time. With all the visionary fervor of his imagination, its fondest dreams fell short of the reality. He died in ig norance of the real grandeur of his discovery. Until his last breath, he entertained the idea, that he had merely opened a new way to the old resorts of opulent commerce, and had discovered some of the wild regions of the east. He supposed Hispaniola to be the ancient Ophir which had been visited by the ships of Solomon, and that Cuba and Terra Firma, u r ere but remote parts of Asia. What visions of glory would have broke upon his mind, could he have known that he had discovered a new continent, equal to the whole of the old world in magnitude, and separa ted by two vast oceans from all of the earth hitherto known by civilized man, and hrnv would his magnanim ous spirit have been consoled, amidst the chills of age and cares of penury, the neglect of a fickle nubli;, and the injustice of an ungrateful king, could he have anticipated the solend d em pires which were spread over the beautiful world he had discovered, and the nations and tongues and lan guages which were to fill its lands with renown, and to revere and bless his name to the latest posterity! THE SILVER SIXPENCE. ‘ Do you see here,” said a ragged little boy to a group of gaily dressed urchins, as he came up from Market- street wharf, in Philadelphia, “doyou see here?—I’ve got a silver sixpence.” They all set up a hearty laugh. “Why, said Jer. Budd,” whose father was a wealthy shipper, “I have six dollars to spend on Christmas, and that fel low is proud of a sixpence.”—Theo dore heard it. and looked thoughtfully at the ground for a moment—then re collecting himself, “six dollars to spend?' mutter d he; “but six pence to keep is better than that.” Theodore kept his sixpence in his pocket, carefully wrapped up for sev eral weeks, when one day his uncle, who kept, a fruit shop at the corner of the alley where he lived, said to him, Theodore, your sixpence don’t grow in your pocket—you should plant it.” The little boy understood him better when he told him, that if he pleased, he might buy some fruit in the market I with it, and stand in his shop and sell it out again. He embraced the offer, | and doubled the money the first day, j and went on until he had ns much fruit as he had room for in his little corner. | His uncle observing the thrifty, and 1 withal, honest, turn of the boy, final-, ly took him into his store as an assis- J lant, and alkivved him to trade in sun dry specified articles on his own ac count. The closest attention to busi ness. the most careful management of uis small funds, and that run of good Iuck, as it is called, which generally runs with those who are saving, indus trious and prudent, enabled him in three or lour years to go into full part nership with iiis uncle, and to extend me business to double its former a- mount. Having trimmed his sails right at first, it had become a kind of second nature with Theodore, to keep what sailors would call close to the wind; and he made headway astonishingly now. Soon alter he was twenty one, ne was able to buy out the whole stock of a dry goods merchant, and to qO into tfiat business on his ow r n ac- ooum entirely. Still he prospered: uecume an importer; changed, finally, ins business lor a wholesale concern; embarked in the India trade; and at tasi. married a fine girl whose fortune was but little inferior to his own, and it was saidafte that concurrence that lie was worth not less than half a mil lion. Theodore now lived in an elegant mansion m Arch street; kept his car riage and every thing in pretty style; yet attended as usual to his business. That be might never lose sight of the oragin of bis good fortune, the silver sixpence was blended with arms upon his carriage.—It formed the seal with which he stamped his letters, and he had one of the coins, he used to say the very identical one he first owned, fastened, upon his desk in the counting room. A thin, squalid figure, one day pre sented itself at his counter, and asked lor employment. He wore a thread bare suit of old black, an old hat, and his shoes were ready to drop from his feet.—In what capacity, asked The odore,do you wish employment? In any capacity, was the reply—but, sir, continued the stranger, wiping a tear from his eyes with his coat sleeve, my father was a merchant; and he bro’t me up to his profession; I should there fore be giad of employment as a clerk. Theodore looked at the man close ly. He thought he saw some linea ment he remembered. What is your name? he asked. The stranger hes itated a moment, hung down his head and replied in a low whisper, Jeremi ah Budd. Ah? said Theodore, recol lecting him instantly, and you have got clear of your six dollars long ago, I fancy, Jeremiah. Yes, said Jeremi ah with a sigh, but I have not forgot the little ragged boy with the silver sixpence. Had I been half as careful of ray thousands as he was of his six pence. I should not have been here friendless and pennyless to-day. There was a half triumphant smile in Theodore's face, as he took the hand of his visitor, which seemed to spring from much self-complacent feeling, but was excusable, because it arose partlv from the consciousness of his own ability to aid one whose imprudence had caused his misfortune but who appeared now to see and con fess his error. He took the applicant into his employ, and in process of time restored him to the business doing world, an active, prudent and valua ble man. The lesson taught in the story is too plain to need a word iu addition. I will simply ask, where is the needy m m who has not spent more money fooiisbly in his life, than would be no- cessary to make him comfortable now? NATURAL HISTORY. The fitness of different animals, by their bodily structure, to the circum stances in which they are found, pre sents an endless subject of curious in quiry and pleasing contemplation.— Thus, the Camel, which lives in san dy deserts, has broad spreading hoot's to support him on the loose soil; and an apparatus in the body by which water is kept for many days, to be used when no moisture can be had.— As this would he useless in the neigh borhood of wells, and as it would be equally so in the desert, where no water is to be found, there can be no doubt that it is intended to assist in journeying across the sands from one watered spot to another. There is a singular and beautiful provision made in this animal’s foot, for enabling it to sustain the fatigues of journeys under the pressure of great weight. Be sides the yielding of the bones and ligaments, or bindings, which gives e- lasticity to the foot of the deer and other animals, there is in the camel s foot, between the horny sole and the bones, a cushion, like a ball, of soft matter, almost fluid, hut in which there is a mass of threads extremely elastic, interwoven with the pulpy substance. The cushion thus easily changes its shape when pressed, yet it has such an elastic spring, that the bones of the foot press on it uninjured by the heavy body which they support, and this huge animal steps as softly as a cat. Nor need we flee to the desert in order to witness an example of skil ful structure in the foot: the Horses limbs display it strikingly. The bones of the foot are not placed directly un der the weight; if they were in the upright position, they would make a firm pillar, and every motiofi would cause a shock. They are placed slanting or oblique, and tied together by an elastic binding on their lower surfaces, so as to form springs as ex act as those which we make of leath er or steel for carriages. Then the flatness of the hoof which stretches out on each side, and the frog coming down in the middle bet ween the quar ters, adds greatly to the elasticity of the machine. Ignorant of this, ill- informed farriers nail the shoe too far back, fixing the quarters, and causing permanent contraction—so that the contracted hoof loses its elasticity; every step is a shock; inflammation & lameness ensue. The Rein-deer inhabits a country covered with snow the greater part of the year. Observe how admirably its hoof is formed for going over that cold and light substance, without sink ing in it, or being frozen. The un der side is covered entirely with hair, of a warm and close texture; and the hoof, altogether, is very broad, acting exactly like the snow-shoes which men have constructed for giving them a larger space to stand on than their feet, and thus to avoid sinking. More over, the deer spreads the hoof as wide as possible when it touches the ground; but, as this breadth would be inconvenient in the air, by occasion ing a greater resistance while he is moving along, no sooner does he lilt the hoof than the two parts into which it is cloven fall together, and so les sen the surface exposed to the air, just as we may recollect the birds do ing with their bodies and wings. The shape and structure of the hoof is al so well adapted to scrape away the snow, and enable the animal to get at the particular kind of moss (or lichen) on which he feeds. This plant, un like others, is in full growth during the winter season: and the rein-deer, accordingly, thrives from its abun dance, notwithstanding the unfavora ble effects of extreme cold upon the animal system. The Theatre Presented as a Nuis ance!!.—The Grand Jury of Erie County, in their late Presentment, dated the 6th inst. represent “that the conduct of the last Theatrical Company, who played in Buffalo vil lage, was, in the opinion of this Grand Jury, immoral and disgraceful. It is in evidence that a quarrel and fight was had on the stage behind the scenes: and f-rom the disorderly con duct of those who attended the per formances, the necessity of a strong oolice was apparent. We condemn in the most pointed manner, such dis orderly proceedings, and present them as public nuisance.” A MISER. On Saturday week died at Canning*! ton, near Bridge water s the Rev. Ro-| bert Eyton, B. A. aged 84. Altjio* he died possessed of nearly 10,000/, I his life was marked by nothing more than his frugality, or rather stinginess. He resided in a house of his own at Cannington, and kept no servant, but performed all the menial duties him self! His horse was turned oyt at! night to graze on the hedges by the road side, and every market day car ried him to town; on that day, his gen eral practice was (if not invited any where to dinner) to buy a penny loaf, and then go to the butter market and taste the contents of several baskets, and this constituted his riical for the day; sometimes, however, he made his visits to the cheese market for the same purpose. He used to repair fill 1iis wardrpbe, and would receive the most trifling cast-off garment from a- ny person who would bestow it on him. His death was the consequence of a broken thigh, and during his illness he employed no less than ten surgeons, discharging them immediately after their first visit. He has been fre quently known, after medicines have been sent to him by his medical men, to return them with a requsst. that he might have credit given him for them in his account. When taken to his room after break ing his thigh, it presented a scene which baffles description; his bedding consisted of a bed and sheet, the co lour of which was scarcely distin guishable from that of the ground, and in a corner of the room was a collec tion of filth, the proceeds of the swee pings ofhis room, which took place once a week. He has never been known to buy any other joint of meat than a breast of mutton, which was hung up in his chimney corner to dry, and a slice cut off each day as it was wanted. He bequeathed the bulk of his property among his. relations, some of whom visited him during his illness. Death From Fright.—On the 4th ult. Mrs. Susan Chapin, wife of Mr. Ezra Chapin, of Winhall, Vermont, went about three quarters of a mile to visit a sick neighbor, and not re turning that evening nor the next mor ning, Mr. C. went to the house where she had visited, and learnt that she had left there in time to reach hdme before dark the evening previous.— An alarm was made, and after a care ful search, she was fouiid a corpse by the side of the road about half way home. The night was blustering, but not extremely cold. When found, she was not so cold as to be in any consid erable degree stiffened, and probably had been dead only three or four hours, there are circumstances, (says a cor respondent of the Brattleborough Messenger) which- led most persons acquainted with them, to a conclusion that by a fit or a fright, she either became so entirely lost, or deranged, as not to be able to extricate herself from her distressing situation. In go ing home she would have to pass thro’ a neck of woods which connected two large forests, which is supposed to be a kind of run way for some wolves which frequent this part of the coun try; this neck is about 100 rods, from her home. Here it. is supposed she was frightened, either from what she imagined, or heard, or saw—in this place one of her shoes, and near it her apron was found—then further backward her handkerchief, and still further her cloak hanging on the fence —then still back beyond her body, her other shoe. There were no marks of violence, either of man or beast, upon her. It was evident from the state of her clothes, as well as her knees and the outside of her fingers, that she had crept much during the night; as it •appeared she crept with her hands clenched, her knuckles being severe ly bruised. In this distressing, unex pected, and almost mysterious manner, Mrs. Chapin came to her death. Mr. C. is deprived of the wife of his youth, with eight children, the oldest about 18, and seven of them daughters, who more particularly require a mother’s care.—Hampshire Gat. Stupidity.—“I believe the jury have been inoculated for stupidity,” said a Lawyer, “That may be,” said bis opponent, “but the bar are of opinion that you have had it the natural w’ay.” P CHEROKEE ALPHABET, Neatly printed and for sale at this Office. owy Dh «zj.