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POETRY. MAY, I feel a newer life in every gale! Thor winds that fan the flowers, And with their welcome breathings fill tlic sail, Tell of serener hours— Of hours that glide unfelt away, Beneath the sky of May. The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls Prom his blue throne of air, And where his whispering voice in music falls, Beauty is budding there; The bright ones of the valley break Their slumbers, and awake. The waving verdure rolls along the plain, And the wide forest weaves, To welcome back its playful mates again, A canopy of leaves; And, from its darkening shadow, floats A gush of trembling notes. Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May; With the light dallying of the west-wind play; And the full-brimming floods, As gladly to their goal they run, Hail the'returning sun.—Pekcival. CHEROKEE HYMNS. J0zyc?a. 1. OVIWCNA ,/JBhB <?,R TeFd6lJUi5 DIi PttrT, TGrOSiT 5 DXBAPCB O’J’VIT. 2. TGT AS Dy\Vh4ro5JT Tcrr<K>wui»5 rat, DI! h>tSB/lWO-J» CPlPA. 3. 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AD <1JLS4?T, ©F.OCF-^. IrO-BBc®.! S- o-s Utoo-RT (pps (p-qx.qi<)®», (pyphteA 7. ^DZ qjtS4(f IfH, BDB 0h>O-CJi. 8. DoSAA 17PZ UBZTTiAA JOVICs J)D q- tts4T; op.oerA, biv^p ^vy Rvi-a oporijp =5(?B-q h>GX&.l<V*. ^yiy^»M)yii (PG,R, lr- OvBBotUZ BGF\1&.B. 9. DB,?Z UXBAGUA**, By©^yFiZ0- D- Bcaojey. adz iwpjisT .so, ?o, raz; $tz AD 0-lp.WT, RF&, JERAT; 1pO-BBot)UZ AD O-IrAST, AD BJ’S, GoSy hDd'VU'T. 10. MJZ (PT’SO- (P(»XfiA4T, ADZ BS- <SJ4 , f E(Vo0T,C.JtAA, (PAAGTA* 7iC=^4oP, iC 0c*W« TBWq SA1 TST AAGFArcSiy 4>1p&,- (PiSr. 11. ADZ TiCS^4oP, (Phnj .ISAE Dd* sstpk rap Jiiftcsiivtaijt, dj Tiwop oeoi- RX, RByZ, TS'VZ, »qw.4 (PTPAA. 12. D4Z (PTPAA DAA BB-IpqAOB, JP- BE OTiB'JpSBR, Gtr BIiBI v m’.I, Drf Bird By- BhqAET. 13. AD IrU q l SS4d’ DotiAAJT' ABJTIiAA, P0, Dtf qdt)ir» KAGT0- Goi-yw* liBGP<»B/tF, <po-bbotUz OtSiy.y* T<r tpa&,4T. ARCHBISHOP SHARPE AND THE ROBBER. It was a custom with Archbishop Sharpe in his journeys, generally to have a saddle horse attending his car riage, that incase of feeling fatigued with sitting, he might take the refresh ment of a ride. In his advanced age, and a few years before his death as he was going in this manner to his epis copal residence, and was got a mile or two in advance of his carriage, a decently dressed good looking young man on horseback came up to him, and with a trembling hand and fanlter- ing tone of voice, presented a pistol to his Grace’s breast, demanding bis money. The archbishop, with great composure turned round, and looking steadfastly at him, desired that he would remove that dangerous weapon and tell him fairly his condition. “Sir, Sir,” cried the youth with great agita tion, “no words, ’tis not a time for words now, your money instantly.”— “Hear me young man.” said the vene- ble prelate, “come on with me. I, you see, am a very old man, and my life is of little consequence; yours seems far otherwise. I am Sharpe, the Archbishop of \ ork; my carriage and servants are behind, but conceal your perturbations and tell me who you are and what money you want, and on the word of my character, I will not injure you, but prove a friend. “Here, take this, (giving him a purse of money) and now tell me how much you want, to make you independent of so dangerous and destructive a course as you are now engaged in.” “Oh, sir,” replied the man, “I detest the business as much as you do; I am— but—but—at home there are creditors who will not wait; fifty pounds, my lord, w ould indeed do what no thought or tongue besides my own can feel or express:” “Well, sir, I take it at your word; and upon my honor if you will compose yourself for a day or two, and then call on me at , what I have now given 3 ou shall be made up that sum; trust me I will not deceive you.” The highwayman looked at him, was silent, and went off; and the time appointed, actually waited on the Archbishop, received the money, and assured his lordship that he hoped his words had left impressions which no inducement could ever efface. Noth ing more transpired of him for a year and a half; when one morning a per son knocked at his Grace’s gate, and with a peculiar earnestness of voice and countenance, desired to see him. The Archbishop ordered the stran ger to be introduced. He had scarce ly entered the room, when his coun tenance changed, his knees tottered, and he sunk almost breathless on the floor. On recovering, he requested an audience in private: this being gran ted, he said, “My lord, you cannot have forgotton the circumstance of relieving a highwayman. God and gratitude will never suffer it to be 0- bliterated from my mind. In me, my Lord, you now behold that once most wretched of mankind: but now by your inexpressible humanity, rendered c- qual, perhaps superor, to millions.— Oh, my lord, ’tis you, that have saved me, body' and soul; ’tis you that have saved a much loved wife, and a little brood of children, whom I loved dear er than my own life. “Here, my lord, is the fifty pounds; but never shall I find language to express what I feel; God is your witness, your deed itself is your glory; and may heaven be your present and everlasting re ward.” The archbishop was refus ing the money: when the gentleman added, ‘,My lord, I was the younger son of a wealthy man; your Grace knew him. I am sure, my name is ; my marriage alienated the affections of my father, who left me to sorrow' and penury. “My distresses—but your grace al ready knows to what extent they drove me. A month since my brother di ed a bachelor, and intestate; his for tune has become mine; and I, spared and preserved by your goodness from an ignominious death,, and now- the most grateful, and the happiest of hu man beings.”—rercy Anecdotes. TURKISH WOMEN. A lady cannot, even in the pres ence of her husband or another female appear unveiled before a physician, or have her pulse felt, except thro’ a muslin sleeve, though, in case of great danger, the law relaxes its se verity, and allows a lady to unveil, to show her eyes, her tongue, or any part whatever of her body. Physic is gen erally practiced by w'omen, who have little science, but great experience. Throughout the empire there are no accoucheurs', women only officiate, w ho are styled Eben Cadium. The pres ence of a man at an accouchment would disgrace a family forever.— From these and other circumstances Turkish ladies generally preserve their chastity inviolable, notwithstand ing w r hat M. Palaiogus and other Eu ropeans have asserted to the contrary. So refined are their notions of delica cy, that ladies who pique themselves upon purity of their manners will not * venture to walk unveiled to their ow n gardens at. all hours, unless it be as certained that no one can intrude up on them. When a lady goes to the hath, she is also accompanied by other ladies of the family, and followed by female slaves aqd eunuchs; and until far in life, does not go to the mosque, the law dispensing with her attendance upon public worship. In fact, women of rank do not often appear in public, because it is unfashionable. None but poor women, therefore, arc generally to be met with in the streets, and are always veiled, and careful to preserve the utmost decen cy of appearance, never speaking to any one. To stare at a w r oman in public, is considered a mark of vulgarity, and to unsult her with an indecent word would subject a man to be seized by the police, and have his brains knock ed out in case of resistance. No Turkish woman keeps a shop or ware house, or sells any thing about the streets; though certain old women who serve the ladies of the harems with trinkets, &c. may be regarded as exceptions. Every family lives a- part. The husband, supposed by ma ny to be an absolute tyrant, cannot e- ven enter his own harem, when a strange lady happens to he on a visit to his wife, without giving the guest time to veil, and prepare to receive him. The sultan himself w : ould not dare to infringe upon this law'. Neither men nor women habitually eat togeth er. The chief amusement of the la dies consists in visiting the public baths, or their near relations; and as their visits are not frequent, they u- sually stay fifteen or twenty days,'and take all their young children and a few slaves with them.—As every fa mily is anxious to have these visits returned, the greater part of the year is often spent in this pleasant w r ay, a- mong those individuals whom they most love. Foreign ladies find it dif ficult to gain admittance into the ha rems, unless they go disguised as mil- Ieners. No one ever entered the se raglio. Though Mahomed himself w r as a frequent companion of the Jews and Pagans, and in the Koran permits mar riage with Christians and Jews, pre judice is too powerful for the law, and fosters an aversion for infidels; so that when, by chance, a Turk con tracts friendship with a foreigner, he is careful to conceal it from his coun trymen. The principal happiness of the Turkish women consists in super intending their domestic economy, in labour, or in educating their children. Those of every rank spend a portion of the day in spinning, sewing, or em broidery; they all nurse their owm children, even the sultanas; and would account it the greatest affliction to he obliged to transfer the performance of this duty to another When sickness compels them k to submit to this, the nurse never quits the house, and her situation is the happiest that can be imagined. She is generally some young slave, who receives her free dom the very day she undertakes the office, and is called “the mother of milk.” Considered thenceforth as one of the family, she is treated with the greatest attention. Children are com monly weaned about the age of twelve or fourteen months. The child’s cra dle is generally very beautifully con structed of w'alnut or hazlc w'ood and ornamented with mother of pearl.— The cradles of the princes of the blood are adorned with gold and jew- e ]s. . BORROWING NEWSPAPERS. In London it is the practice of many persons to hire the reading of newspa pers; & there are carriers who make it their business to purchase the morn- ning papers, and travel from the house of one customer to that of ano ther, where he receives a penny each for allowing him to glance over such of his papers as the customer may wish. And in this way these carriers obtain good livings. The practice is excusable in England, where a single daily newspaper costs between forty and fifty dollars. But it would be ri diculed here; and still, it would be much more honorable than a very gen eral practice which obtains in this country—we mean that of borrowing newspapers. There is nothing which injures the pecuniary interest of pub lishers, or so much annoys their cus tomers, as this beggarly practice.— Newspapers eoine so cheap in this country, that they are within the means ol every industrious family in the community. And yet the borrow ers, when compared with the subscri bers, will stand as three to one.— 1 his subject is brought to our mind al most daily by the complaints of our subscribers; and has now been revived by an occurrence last evening. Step ping into the store of one of our sub scribers to purchase an article, one of his neighbors came in and asked for his paper. “Why,’ replied the sub scriber, ‘your boy came in for it and took it before I had opened it.’ ‘But,’ rejoined the borrower, ‘Mr. sent lor it before I was half through with it.’ ‘Well,’ said the subscriber, 'you can have it if you will go for it; and if you do not find it at Mr. ’s proba bly Mr. has got it by this time.’— The borrower went in pursuit of the paper. ‘Pray,’ we inquired, ‘how many of your neighbours thus borrow your paper?’ ,Four, pretty regular ly,’was the reply. ‘But you do in justice to yourself and the publisher.’ ‘True—1 am sensible of that; hut we must be neighborly—you know, and it would look very mean to refuse to lend so small a thing as a newspaper. Now we beg leave to differ with our customers in this respect.—Of course there are exceptions to gene ral rules—but newspapers should nev er be lent—W’ho (asks the editor of the boston Courier, in a sensible arti cle upon this subject,) who would not laugh at the idea of one half the com munity borrowing coats, hats and shoes from the other, to make a decent ap pearance on particular occasions, and the same time admit that no tailor, hatter or shoemaker could ever hope to thrive among such people? yet it is the same injury to the interest of the p»inter, to make one newspaper serve half a dozen readers, as it would be to the tailor, to make a fine dress coat serve the purposes of so many dandies. ‘We must contrive to do without the expenses of a newspaper, (a mere tri fle in amount) is one of the poorest and most, pitiful resolutions that can be imagined; but is ten times worse when backed by such a reservation as this— for if 1 want to read one I can borrow it.’ What would such people say, if the community generally were to come to the determination to do without the articles which they vend or man ufacture, or without their services in any way? We like to see a more lib cral spirit. All trades, occupations and professions are mutually depend ant on one another; and vve should en courage every one who contributes his means to advance the welfare of our selves or the community.—N. Y. C. Mv. Indian Cam Insects.—Soaking seed corn in a solution of Glauber’s salts has been recommended as a preserva tive against insects and birds, and like wise the mixture is thought to have a stimulating and fertilizing effect, which fowards the growth of the young plants. The proper strength of the solution has no.t, as far as we can learn, been ascertained by experiment. The farmers of Renssalaer county, N. Y. say that ashes ought always to be applied to the top of corn hills im mediately after planting, if it follow sward land, prevent grub larvae from destroying the crop. The same ope ration will have a similar effect if ap plied to the top of potatoe hills. But neither unleached ashes, nor lime in its caustic state should he so placed as to come in contact either with the seed corn or the young plants.— A strong solution of copperas in water will also preserve seed corn from in sects and birds. The ashes or quick lime, however, are probably more useful as manures. The Seven Churches of Jlsia.—Of tlie Seven Churches of the Apoca lypse, founded in Asia by the apostles, hardly a vestige remains. Smyrna, Ephesus, Pergamos, Sardis, Thyatira, Laodicea, and Philadelphia, (see Rev elation, chap, ii and iii.) with all their power and magnificence, have fallen into utter decay; except that the first mentioned city remains a port of com mercial coiBscqucnce. But Ephesus is a mere heap of ruir.s; Pergamos has a population of 1,600 Greeks, among 13,000 Turks; Sardis, once the splen did capital of Lydia, is a few mud huts; Thyatira (now Ak-hissar) has only one miserable Greek church; Laodicea (now Eski-hissar) is a Turk ish village, near masses and scattered fragments of ancient architecture and sculpture; and Philadelphia (now Al lah Slier) has been shaken into dust by wars and earthquakes. M. Alexandre de La Borde, son of the banker of that name, who posses sed an immense fortune and great re pute, before the revolution, is a Mem ber of the French chamber of Depu ties. Roused, lately, by some re marks of another Member, against e- lection-meetings & petitions, he broke into the following strain, referring to his own case: “What means this constant talking of revolution, and reviving rccollec- fe.; tions? Who thinks of renewing past K excesses which every one deplores?— j But, among those to w hom this inten- J tion is attributed, are there no suffer- j ers from that same revolution? I ask, H are there many royalists in this Cham- a her or out of this Chamber, who have lost their father, and half their fami- p ly on the scaffold, for the cause of the P Bourbons; who have lost an income of I l,200,000f. by the revolution—who I have fought five campaigns, and re- j ceived ten wounds for the Royalist ■. cause, and who, as the reward of all t their sacrifices, have asked nothing of j the Bourbons at their return, in order to preserve their independence, & to I ; be able to speak to you at this tribune I* as I do, [bravo, bravo, on the left; pro- ?j found silence on the right?] Let us | grant to the Revolution the praises which its fortunate results merit, at the same time deploring the evils it has caused, and then we shall all a- I gree as to this painful question. Do [1 we not know that we owe to the Re volution the state of prosperity, riches, and glory which France has attained, and even the institutions which now govern us, and wdiicli are its conse quences? Who would w'ish to re store France to wdiat it was forty years ago? Who is the Royalist W'ho : would wish to descend from Austcr- litz to Rosbach, and from the reli- [1 gious tolerance granted by the Char- W ter to St. Barthelemi? Who w'ould ' descend from our present Code to the J! Feudal Law, and her torture; evert f from the late Ministry to Madame Dubarry, the Abbe Teray [prolonged movement in the Assembly?”] Stings of PI asps or Bees.—Sw'eet oil applied immediately cures the sting of w'asps or bees;—and if the sting is left in the w'ound, it should, if possible, be extracted with hair pin cers. Or chalk may be rubbed on the place, or spirits of hartshorn, or so lution of any alkali, as pot-ash, pearl- ash, or salt of tartar, or soda. But the simplest remedy, and sonic w'ho have tried it have assured us that it is effectual, is to rub the part affect ed with a raw r onion.—JV*. E. Farmer. Jin improved method of preparing corn for planting.—Soak the corn in warm water, for thirty-six hours— then, for half a bushel of corn, boil three pails full of water with a half pint of tar, taking care to stir the wa ter until the tar is thoroughly mixed with it. Cool the w'ater until you can hold your hand in it without in convenience; then put the corn into the liquor—keep it in about five mi nutes, stirring it constantly—then put the corn into a basket, and put in as much plaster as wrll adhere to the kernels. Let it remain in the basket twenty-four- hours, when it will be ready for planting. Corn prepared in this w r ay will come up several days- sooner, than that planted in the com mon way. This has been found by experience to be a complete preven-- - tive against the ravages of crow's, w'ire worms, and all other insects. ■ II. Statesman. LAKE SUPERIOR. According to late surveys of the boundary between the United States and Canada, about one thousand riv ers empty themselves into this enor mous inland sea. It is estimated that an elevation of nine feet in the U'aters of the lake, would cause them to flow over into the sources of the Mississip pi, instead of running in their present direction. An earthquake, cuch as was experienced in Chili in 1822, might be attended with tremendous consequences ta that region of coun try.