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No. 29 Vol. Vl.] COjYGRESS—LA FAYETTE. . ““ InthP Senate on Tuesday the 21sf olt the bill appropriating 200,000 dollars and a township of land to General Lafayette, was taken up, and no amendment being propos ed, the question was about to be put, when Mr. Macon remarked that with painful re luctance, he felt himself obliged to oppose the bilj. The ground of the opposition of Mr M. was one of principle—he consider ed General Lafayette, as having been dor ing the revolution, a son adopted into our family. Many native Americans had made great sacrifices and spent their all in the same cause, and to treat the General as others were treated, was all that was to be expected. fMr. Brown, of Ohio, also objected to the bill, and was desirous to know what evi dence had induced the committee to sup pose that the amount proposed was the pro per amount of compensation. He moved to recommit the hill. Mr. Hayoe, of South-Carolina, Chairman oftheCommittee, vindicated, at length, in f a manner, the bill, and the services of La layelte, and made several statements which he supported by documentary evidence. It appeared that the General when he em barked for America, in 1777, possessed an equal to $23,700 which was redu ced by bis losses and sacrifices to a very small sum It also appeared that the Gen era! bad expended in the American service 140,000 dollars. Mr. H. also adverted to othpr samboes ; to his raising and arming a regiment fr<Jm his private funds, and com ing to this country in a vessel chartered by himself and loaded with arms and munitions of war furnished by himself. It was not till 1791 that Congress gave to him his full pay without interest, which wa9 due 12 or 14 years before. Mr. H. also related an inci dent highly honourable !o the character of Gen. Lafayette. Congress made a grant in 1003, of 11520 acres of land to the Gen era!—looo acres of this land was chosen by his agent where New Orleans now stands. A valuable portion of Ibis land was afterward granted to the city of New Oi lcans, by Congress, without recollection of (he preceding grant. This land even then was valued at $50,000, and is now worth 4 or $500,000, being included in the limits of the city. He was assured by eminent couosel he might recover this pro perty in a contest with the city of Now Or leans, but on being informed of the facts he repliecj “ that he would not consent even to inquire into the Validity of his title ; that be cotild not think of entering into litiga tion with any publick body in the U. States, that the property had heeu gratuitously be stowed upou him by the U. Stales, and ii was with (hem to say what had been given and he accompanied these declarations by a positive direction to his agent to relinquish his entry and to make a location elsewhere. Mr. Hnyne then spoke of precedents, and referred to several—to the act making com pensation for the “sacrifices and services” of Baron Steuben; to that which appropri ates, in the language of this hill, “an en tire township of land” for the recompense to'Aroold Henry Dohrman, for similar ser vices—to the act making provision for the daughters of Count de Grasse, and to that providing for the widow ol Alexander Ham cjT'.n. Mr. Ij, referred to the character of the country, and to the interest with which Europe looked to our conduct towards our venerable guest; and concluded by expres sing his conviction that the bill woeid pass - wiilwnore than uoal unanimity. After a few remarks from Mr. Macon, Mr. Brown, .wnd Sir. Smith, the hill was passed by the following vote, the yeas and nays having been called lor by Mr. Noble, of Indiana Yeas. —Messrs. Barbour,Boubgoy,Branch, t Chandler, Clayton, L'e k-rson, Patou, Jack F *oo, Johnson, of Ky Johnston, Lous. Kel- I ly, King, of Ala. Lug, of N. Y Knighi, Lan l.tuaiij Li.iyd of Mass. Lloyd, of Mil. Edwards, |Erlin(, Findlay, Gaillkrd, Hayne, Holme*, ijof M aote, Homes, of MBs. Lowrie, 51‘Leao, rlMi!4, fctitner, Parrott, Seymour, Smith, jCr'all.ot, Taylor, Thomas, Van Buren, Van Williams. K .Vays. —Messrs. Barton, Bell, Brown, ptCobtifMacon, Noble, Itugglcs. So the hill was passed and sent to the b House of Representatives for concurrence. Aur. Intel. * MATERNAL ASSOCIATIONS. The first Maternal Association which we recollect to have heard of, was composed bf members of the Rev. Dr Payson’s church in Portland upwards of ten years ago. teocn after; this, a similar institution was formed in this city, by Ladies belonging to the Old South and Park street churches, of Irhich the late lamented Mrs. Huntington |vas a very active member, and which has Ijonttnned its meeting nntil the present time. 3*he “Maternal Association of Union ifcurch,” (who have published the follow up addfcess,) is recently formed, partly by members of the old institution. We are informed it is contemplated to orm a distinct institution in each of the oth >r churches, which will exhibit the inter esting spectacle of those, who formerly as Jiildren were favoured with the prayers and instructions ot this institution) now as- THE MISSIONARY. (enabling as mothers to bestow similar bles sings on their children. We hope this ex ample will be followed in all our churches. [Boston Recorder. ADDRESS TO MOTHERS. In the vicinity of Philadelphia, there was a piou9 mother, who had the happiness of seeing her children, in very early life, brought to the knowledge of the truth; walking in the fear of the Lord and orna ments in the Christian church. A clergy man who was travelling, heard this circum stance respecting this mother, and wished very much to see her, thinking that there, might be something peculiar in Tier mode of giving religious instruction which rendered it so effectual. He accordingly visited her, and inqnired respecting the manner in which she discharged the duties of a mother in educating her children. The woman re plied that that she did not know that she had been more faithful than any Christian mother would be, in the religious instruc tion of her children. After a little conver sation, she said, “ While ray children were infants on my lap, as I washed them, I rais ed my herrt to God, that he would wash them in that ‘blood that cleanseth from all sin’—as I clothed them in the moruing, I asked my heavenly Father to clothe (hem with the robe of Christ’s righteousness;— as 1 provided them food, I prayed that God would feed their souls with the bread of heaven, and give them to drink the water of life. When 1 have prepared them for the house of God, 1 have plead that their bodies might be fit temples for the Holy Ghost to dwell in,—when they left me for the week-day school, I followed their infant footsteps with a prayer, that their path throngU life might be like that of the just, which shineth more and more unto the per fect day; and as I committed them to the rest of the night, the silent breathing of my soul has been, that their heaveuly Father would take them to his embrace, and fold them in his parental arms.” Here is the influence.of the silent , vnscen exertions of a mother; an influence which will be felt, when those external accom plishments, and fleeting enjoyments, which many labour to give their children, shall he forgotten or remembered only as the means of smoothing a rapid descent to the world of sorrow. In this little story two things strike our attention; that these es forts were made enrfy, and with a reliance on the divine blessing. This mother felt that she received her children from God, and was accountable to Him for (he manner in which she trained (hem up. She knew that her labours would be in vain, unless God should in mercy grant her the aid of His Spirit to sanctify and save the soul; therefore, through all the duties of the day, and all the interesting period of childhood, she looked up to a God who is ever near to those who will call upon Him, and who will listen to their cries- How happy must be that household whose God is the Lord; what heavenly joy beams from every coun tenance, and with what glorious hopes do they look beyond the grave, to that man sion provided for them in their Father’s house; and thrice happy must he that mother, who in the fear of God, and in ref erence to eternity, has thus performed her duty. There are feelings in a mother's bosom, which are known only by a mother—the tie which binds them to their offspring, is oue, compared with whiqh, all other ties are feeble. It to these feelings, that the fact just stated, will speak a language which must be understood; and it must strike a note on this chord that will vibrate through every fibre of the soul. While appeals are often made to him who has lived long in sin, that fall tike the sound of the empty wind upon his ear; and the voice of warn ing, thunders its truths to hearts of ada mant ; the appeal, now made, is to an ear Which is not deaf, to a heart which can feel. The noise and tumult of the active wot Id often drowns the “still small voice” of the gospel, which sounds in the ear of the man of holiness; and worldly wisdom, and strict calculation sometimes lead men to neglect the question, “ What will it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul ?” hut this address is designed for a dif ferent situation in life; for those who do not mingle in the bustle and hurry of the world, who are retired to a more quiet, though not unimportant sphere. In some hour of silent meditation this may fall into the hands of a mother; and the duties it recommends can be performed even while engaged in the common business of the family. It is no fiction of poetry that, “just as the twig is bent, ihe tree’s inclined.” When the mind begins to open, and the attention is first arrested by the objects that surround ns, much depends upon her, who in (hat tender period shall make the first impres sions upon mind, and first directs its at tention. It is then that the mother has an access and an influence, which cannot be at tained at any other period. The first in quiries of the little infant must be answered by her who gave it birth. As it gazes up on those twinkling stars that glitter in the evening sky, and asks, “who made those shining things,” it is a mother’s duty to tell the li*’.le prattler of that great and good Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every oreatare, —Jesus Christ. Ofallthe dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity,'Religion and Morality are indispensable supports. — Washington. MOUNT ZION, (HANCOCK COUNTY, GEORGIA,) MONDAY, JANUARY 17, 1825. Being, who dwells in the heavens, and who is the Father of all our mercies. And as the mind enlarges, the mother tells the lit tle listeber of that Jesus, who lay in a man ger, and died on the cross. And when she softens its pillow for its nightly slumbers, and watching its closing eyes, it is her privi lege to hear her lisp, “Our Father,” and direct it to love that Father whose name it so early speaks. Let Ibis golden opportu nity pass, these days of childhood roll away, and the mind filled only with fabled stories and sportive songs, and the precious immor tal is trained for some other slate than the paradise above. Do you say that you are ignorant, and not capable of giving instruc tion? As your child clings to your bosom, he directs his inquiring countenance to you for some interesting story; you know enough to tell him of some hero or king, and* cannot you tell him of the King of Zion, the Prince of Peace ? And what more could the learned philosopher tell this infant mind ? You are unknown and ob scare you say ? But you are known to your child, and your influence is greater than than that of a legislator or general. Your words are received with confidence, and “ my mother told me so,” is an argument of sufficient weight to convince the child of the most important truths. Here you have an influence which no oth er can have, and can exert it in circum stances the most favourable. It is not to open to a son the stores of science that may qualify him to rank among the learned and the wise of the world, it is not to adorn a daughter with those accomplishments which shall attract the attention of those who crowd the hall of pleasure, or move in the circle of refinement and fashion.— But the object is far more noble, more wor thy the undivided attention of those who live for immortality. That child who now prattles on your knee, or sports around yonr dwelling, may yet tell some perishing heathen of Jesus of Nazareth; may yet be an able soldier in the army of Immanuel, and may plant the standard of the cross on the shores of Green land, or nnder the burning sun of Africa. Look at facts. What first led the pioos and eminently useful John Newton to the knowledge of the truth? The instructions of his mother, given at the early period of four years, fastened upon his conscience, and led hitn to a Saviour. Can you estimate the effect of his labours ? Not till you can compute the usefulness of Buchanan and Scott, who were converted by his instrumentality—’till you can see the full blaze of Ibat light, which the former carried into the heart of heathen India; and witness Ihe domestick comfort and brightening hopes occasioned by the labours of Ihe latter. Who taught young Timo thy, an early labourer in the vineyard of Jestls Christ, the first lessons of religious truth? Who led Samuel, a prophet and a judge in Israel, while he was yet young, to (he house of (he Lord, and dedicated him to the service of the God of Heaven ? A pray ing mother. Though the seed thus sown in childhood, may aot spring up and bring forth fruit while under the maternal eye; yet she must not conclude that it is lost. A clergy man recently met a seaman in the street of a neighbouring city, and pressed upon him the duty of attending to the concerns of his soul. The hardy mariner burst into tears and exclaimed, “ slop, stop, don’t talk to me so, it is just as my mother talked to me when I was a boy.” A mother’s counsel had followed him through all his wander ings, and still the words of her who prayed for him, retained their hold oa his con science. The time has come when it is esteemed a greater honour to be the mother of a Brainerd or a Martyn, than that es a Caesar or Napoleon. And suppose the mothers of these men, whose characters though so widely different, are so universally known, should from their unchanging state, look up on these sons whom they have nourished; what would be the view presented to them? Who would not cooose to have given birth to the Christian heroes? Yet it is not for this short state of existence only, that yon are to train your children. The little group that now clusters around you, are destined for immortality. When the world on which they stand shall have passed away, and its pleasures and its honours shall be forgotten, then they whom you have introduced lo this state of being, will but begin to live. Their characters are now farming for eternity, and you are aiding to form them. Though you may not design it, though you may quiet yourself, that if you can do them no good, you will not do them injury ; yet you exert an influence which is, and will be felt when your heads are laid in the dust. Let then, this appeal to a mother’s feelings be beard; let it coma lo your own bosoms, and ponder it in your hearts Do you know the wav to a throne of mercy, and can you kneel before it, and forget the children of yoar love? Can you watch their Closing eyes, and not commit them to your God? Can you labour that they may enjoy the good things of this fleeting world, and not pray that God would prepare them for that upon which they will soon enter? Can you see them growing up around you without hope, and without God in the tyo*ld? tho’ you may he unable to do more, can you re fuse to pray that He, who io a peculiar manner extends the arms of mercy to those in the morning of life, would take them to His embrace and prepare them for His kingdom. You have seen the band of disease fasten upon them, and have passed days of anxious toil, aod nights of sleepless solicitude to ar rest their malady ; and have cried from a bursting heart, “Oh! spare my child!” You have seen the object of your teoderest affections sinking into the arm9of death, and with a heart re.Dt with anguish, have said with the nobleman, “Come down e’er my child die.” And wheo the last duties of parental affection were performed, and the grave has closed over the child of your bo som, you have perhaps looked hack to the time when it was under your care, and mourned that you thought no more of its immortal part, that you prayed no more for its precious soul. If you have passed through scenes like these, if yon have thus felt, then remem ber those, now in life and health, and im prove the opportunity now g-iven you. The time for your exertion is very short Sood your children will arrive at that pe riod of life, when a mother’s influence will be very feebly felt unless it has been early exerted. Would you find in them a rich source of consolation when your heads will become white with years, and your bodies bending to the grave; then you will now commit them to Him who can sanctify and save the soul. Should you go dowD to the grave aod leave these objects of yonr love in a cold, unfeeling world, what better can you do for them than to secure the friend ship of one who “sticketh closer than a brother,” and whose “ love is stronger than death?” The tender tie which now binds you to them, will soon be dissolved; you cannot resist the stroke which shall tear them from yeur bosom. You may have felt the pang—your heart may have been filled with sorrow, 0 then, if you ever pray ed, if your soul ever went out to your God, in humble petitions, tell Him of your chil dren who koow Him not; when you know what it is to wrestle in secret with the God of Jacob, give him hack iu faith your chil dren. Then in the other world to which yon are going, you may through grace say, “ Lord, here am I, and the children thou hast given me.” Should this paper fall into the hands of a mother who never prayed even for her6elf: she must, she cannot but pray for those to whom she has given life. Prayerless mother! spare, Oh! spare your child. Stop where you now are, on the threshold of eternity, and remember as you gaze oa that couotenance which smiles in your bosom, that you have have never pray ed for its soul which will live for ever. Have you a mother’s feelings, and can you still neglect it ? Ob ! my God, give me poverty, give me pain, leave me friendless and forsaken by the world, but leave me not to the embrace of a prayerless mother! Leave not my soul to the care of one who never raised her weeping eyes to heaven, as she implored its blessing on my head. Are you a mother? andean yen close your eyes upon the scenes of earth, aod re member that you never raised, even in si lent breathings, the desires of your heart to heaven for a child, perhaps your only dar ling? In some lonely hour when the labours of the day are ended, and you have performed the last act of kinduese for your sleeping babes; kneel, if you never have before— kneel before Him who seeth your heart in that sileut hoar, and utter one short prayer, one broken petition for your dear children. THE INTREPID JURYMAN. Extract from a late publication, entitled, “An excursion from Sidmouth (in Devombire) to Chester.” By the Rev. Edmund Butcher. I cannot help congratulating our country upon the inestimable value of trial by jury. I have lately met with a proof of its excel lence, which ought not to be lorgetten. A Judge, on the northwest circuit in Ire land, tried a cause, io which much of the local consequence of a gentleman iu the neighbourhood was implicated. It was the landlord’s prosecution against one of his tenants, for assault and hatterv, commit ted on the person of the prosecutor by the defendant, in rescuiog bis only child, an ia oocent and beautiful girl, from personal vi olation. WbeD the defendant was brought into court, the prosecutor also appeared, and swore to every fact laid down in the indictment. The poor defendant bad no lawyer to tell bis story : he, however, pleaded bis own cause effectually, by ap pealing to the judgement and the heart. The jury found him hoi guilty. The judge was enraged, and told the ju ry they must go back, aod reconsider the matter; addiog, he was astonished at tbeir giving such an infamous verdict.—The ju ry buwed, went back, and io a quarter of an boor returned, when the foreman, a ven erable old man, thus addressed the bench. “ My lord, in compliance with your desire, we went back to our room-, but, as we there found no reason to alter our* opinions or our verdict, we now return it to you, io the same words as before— not guilty We heard joar lordship’* reproof; bat we do [Price S3 50 per ann. not accept it as properly applying to us. Individually, aod io our private capacities, it is true, we are iosiguificant men; we claim nothing, out of (his box, above the common regard, due 19 our humble, yet honest stations; but, my lord, assembled here, as a jury, we cannot be insensible of the great importance of the office we now sustain. We feel glad that we are appoint ed, as you are, by the law and t|p constitu tion : not only to act impartially between the king and his subjects, the offended and the offender, but to form a barrier against the possible influence, prejudice, or corrup tion of the bench; to which we do not wish to offer Ihe smallest degree of disrespect, much lees of insult : we pay it to the res pect which one tribunal should pay to an other, for the common honour of both. This jury did not accuse the bench of par tiality or oppression—no, we looked upon it as the sanctuary of truth aod justice ; still, my lord, we cannot erase from ocr minds the records of oar school books. By them we were taught that kings and judges are but fallible mortals ; and (hut the seat of justice has been polluted by a Tressilian, a Scroggs, and a Jeffreys ” The judge frowned at these words, hut the intrepid juror thus proceeded ; “My lord, lam hut a poor man; yet I am a freeborn sub ject, aod a member of the constitution— nay, I am now higher, for 1 am one of its representatives : I therefore claim, for myself and fellow jurors, liberty of speech.” The judge here resumed his complacen cy, and the orator continued his address. “We have nothing to do, my lord, with yonr private character; in this place it is veiled by your official one ; we know you are only in that of a judge: and, as sucb, we would respect you: you know nothing of us, hut as a jury ; and in that situation, we look to you for reciprocal respect; be cause we know of no - man, however high his titles or his rank, in whom the law or the constitution woold warrant an unpro voked insolt towards that tribunal, in which they have vested Ihe dearest aDd most val uable privileges they possess. We sit here, my lord, sworn to give a verdict accordiug to our consciences, and the best of our judgements, on the evidence before us. We have, in our minds, discharged our du ty a9 honest men. If we have erred, we are accountable, not lo your lordship, nor to the king who appointed yon; hut tou higher power, the King of king 9.” The bench was dumb, the bur silent; as tonishment and applause murmured through the crowd—and the poor man was discharg ed.'—Eng. paper. ANECDOTE OF GEORGE IV. AND DR. PEARSON. From a respectable source we have Ihe following anecdote of George IV. and Dr. Pearson, author of the life of Buchanan.— On a certain occasion, Mr. Pearson, then little known, happening in London, wa9 in vited by one of his Majesty’s chaplains lo officiate on a Sabbath, when it was expect ed the King would not be present. The invitation was accepted, but to the surprise of all, bis majesty entered the chapel to gether with the Royal Family, when (be young man was to preaeh ! His intended sermon was of a very plain and pointed character, and such ao odo as seldom or never entered the royal ear. But Pearson did not feel disposed to alter, curtail, or ex change it for another. The king was very much astonished to hesr such unwonted doctrine, and sent a messenger requiring the attendance of the young preacher. Pearson waited on (he king, who wav pleas ed to inform him that he was much gratifi ed with his discourse, and “farther,” said he, “it is our royal pleasure that you bn appointed to the office of chaplain to the court!” Pearson was surprised at this un expected favour, an object of so much am bition to the English clergy, but with Chris tian meekness and dignity, begged to de cline the honour. The king was astonish ed, and asked his reason for declining that which to any clergyman in his situation would he a very high favour. “1 am sor ry to say to your Majesty that my discharge rag the duties of this office to my king on earth, woold be inconsistent with my duty to my King in heaven.” “ How so F’ asked the king. “ I should be obliged, for exam pie, to attend yonr Majesty in your royal yacht on parties of pleasure during the Sabbath,” was his reply. “ And is it then a profanation of the Sabbath ? My chaplains never told me so,” rejoined the king. Some explanation es the nature and sanctity of (be Sabbath was then entered into,all which appeared new to the. king. When the in terview was concluded, Pearson was dis missed, hut was subsequently sent for, aod when be, entered the royal presence, was addressed by the king as “ Dr. Pearson.” “ Your Majesty mistakes, I have not yet re ceived (bat honour.” “ That boronr,’? replied the king, “ has been conferred upon you,” aod beckoning ton page,he advanced aod presented to Pearson the degree of D. D. which had been obtained from Oxford I “ Yon will henceforward,” the king told bim, “be considered as one of our chap lains,” and at Ihe same time assured him that while in his service, nothing should he required of him Inconsistent with hi* duly