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viuftwra* s §llt§ lpp% The admirers of the productions of Sellcck Osborn, Esq. will be pleased with lle following elegant little illu sion, which was occasioned by his see ing two young ladies frolicking in a garden, and was found next day de posited in a bed of flowers : it par takes highly of that tenderness and sentiment so conspicuous in his lyric writings. Host on Statesman . Sweet playful sisters —tw ins of joy • Pure hearts with guileless pleasure beating; May fate withhold unhlcst alloy, Nor cloud the morn of youth so fleet ing : While pleased T see those cherub forms Thus gambol innocently sportive, I breathe a prayer that no rude storms May make their budding hopes ab ortive. Happy the favour’d youths for whom, Alone those lips shall smile so sprightly ! For them life’s gayest flowers shall bloom, I For them will gladness beam most brightly. Life's a dull dance ! but stepp’d with vou, ’Twould move to notes of livelier measure; And heavy care would alter too, Or take the silken wings of pleasure! Who that enjoy’d your cherub smiles, W ould care a figtor fortune’s frown ing? W ho would not covet cares and toils, Which you with such rewards were crowning ? grief's hard frost descends on man, The genial stream of life congealing, You smiling charmers, only can Restore the frozen heart to feeling. The Fjirest Rose is Far Air a'. BY J. G. TEIICIVAL. The morn is blinking o’er the hills With soften’d light and colours gay; Through grove and valley sweetly trills The mciotiy of early day ; The dewy roses blooming fair Glitter aiound her father's ha’, Rut still my Alary is not there— The fairest rose is far awa\ The cooling zephyrs gently blow Along the dew-bespangled mead — In every field the oxen low r The careless shepherd tunes his reed — And while the roses blossom lair, My lute with softly dying fa’ Laments that Mary is not there — The fairest rose is far awa’. The thrush is singing on the hills And charms the groves that wave around, And thro’ the vale the winding rills Awake a softly murmuring sound ; The robin tunes his mellow throat W here glittering roses sweetly blow, But grieves that Mary hears him not — The fairest rose is far awa’. “Why breathe thy melody in vain Thou lovely songster of the morn— Why pour thy ever-varying strain Amid the sprays of yonder thorn r Do not the roses blooming fair, At morning’s dawn or evening's fa', Tell thee of one that is not there— The fairest rose that’s far awa’ ? ms FROM HUNTER'S NARRATIVE. INDIAN ELOQUENCE. The Speech of Tecumseh among the Usages, to induce them to unite and take up the tomahawk against the settlers, is a striking specimen of Indian Eloquence. It is thus mentioned by Mr. Hunter:- “ When the Ossages and distin guished strangers had assembled, Te-cum-seh arose, and after a pause of some minutes, in which he sur veyed his audience in a very dig nified, though respectfully complai sant and sympathizing manner, he commenced as follows: Brothers —We all belong to one family ; we arc all children of the Great Spirit; we walk in the same path ; slake our thirst at the same spring; and now, affairs of the greatest concern, lead us to smoke the pipe aiound the same council hie! Brothers —We are friends ; we must assist each other to bear cur burdens. The blood of many of our fathers and brothers has run like w ater on the ground, to satisfy the avarice ot the white men. We ourselves are threatened with a great evil; nothing will pacify them hut the destruction of ail the red men. Brothers —When the white men first set foot on our grounds, they were hungry; they had no place on which to spread their blankets, or kindle their fires. They were fee ble ; they could do nothing lor themselves. Our fathers commis erated their distress, and shared I freely with them whatever the Great Spirit had given his red chil dren. They gave them food when hungry’, medicine when sick, spread 1 skins for them to sleep on, and gave them grounds that they’ might hunt and raise corn. Brothers, the white people are like poisonous serpents ; when chilled, they are feeble and harmless ; but invigorate them with warmth, and they sting their bene factors to death. The white people came among us feeble ; and now we have made them strong, they wish to kill us, or drive us back as they would wolves and panthers. I; Brothers —The white men arc not friends to the Indians : at first they only asked for land sufficient for a wigwam , now, nothing will satisfy them but the whole of our hunting grounds from the rising to the set ting sun. Brothers —The white men want more than our hunting grounds— they wish to kill our warriors ; they would even kill our old men, women, and little ones. Brothers —Many winters ago, there was no land—the sun did not vise and set: 5U w3 darkness.— The Great Spiridmade all things.— j He gave the white people a home beyond the great waters. He sup plied these grounds with game, and gave them to his red children, and he gave them strength and courage to defend them. Brothers —My people wish for peace ; the red men all wish for peace, but where the white people are, there is no rest for them, ex cept it be on the bosom of our mo ther. Brothers —The white men despise and cheat the Indians; they abuse and insult them ; they do not think the led men sufficiently good to live, The red men have borne many and great injuries; they ought to suffer them no longer. They will not; they are determined on ven geance ; they have taken up the to mahawk , they will make it fat with blood—they will drink the blood ot the white people. Brothers —My people are brave and numerous, but the white people are too strong for them alone. I wish you to take up the tomahawk with them. If we all unite, we will cause the rivers to stain the great waters with their blood. Brothers —ls you do not unite with us, they will first destroy us, and then you will fail an easy prey to them. They have destroyed ma ny nations of red men, because they were not united, because they were not friends to each other. Brothers —The white people send runners amongst us; they wish to make us enemies that they may sweep over, and desolate our hunt ing grounds, like devastating winds, or rushing uatei s. Brothers —Our Great Father, over j the great waters, is angry with the! white people, our enemies. He will i stud his brave warriors against them ; he will send us rifles, and whatever else wc want —he is our friend, and we are his children. Brothers —Who are the white men that we should fear them ? They cannot run fast and are good marks to shoot at: they are only men ; our fathers have killed many of them : we are not squaws, anti we will stain the earth red with their blood. Brothers —The Great Spirit is augry with our enemies—he speaks in thunder, and the earth swallows up villages, and drinks up the Mis sissippi. The great waters will co ver their low lands ; their corn can not grow, and the Great Spirit will sweep those who escape to the hills, from the earth, with his terrible breath. Brothers —We must be united; we must smoke the same pipe ; we must fight each other’s battles ; and more than all, we must love the Great Spirit; he is for us, he will destroy our enemies, and make all his red children happy.” GINEVRA, AND ANTONIO UON \ DIN EL LI. Constant Imports, strengthened by a long lapse ojejune, have put ail end to the doubts that been enter tained of me truth of the foliating do ry. Antonio Rondinelli became ena moured of Ginevra Regil.Amiori,ami persevered in his courtship lor four years, notwithstanding great opposi tion from her father, who, on no condi tion would agree to give her to him in marriage, ller father was pleased to choose a youth of the family of Ago lonti, named Francesco, as being, per haps, some richer than the other, al though the inclination ol the girl lit tle concurred in it. W hen the father of Ginevra hud concluded this alliance with Francisco Agolanti, who gave her the ring, the passion ot love increased in Rondiiiel'i, then, a young man in the flower of youth, in proportion as the hope of possessing her failed him, anl not having been . ble to obtain his beloved he swore never to marry any other; and never lost sight ot her at festivals, churches, and in assemblies. On the breaking out of the great mortality in the year 1400, which was in many cities in Italy, and principal ly in Florence, Ginevra also tell sick, and whether it was the plague or some other disease, hysterical affections as sailed her to such a degree, that medi cines having no effect, and the good care of the physicians, and the assidu ities employed by her husband and mother-in-law, being of no avail, she became entirely devoid of pulse, and senseless, so $s to be believed by all the bystanders absolutely dead ; the disease of hysterics being unknown, which, in succeeding times occasioned great mistakes, and among them, oth er living women to be buried as dead, who afterwards have been forced by necessity ?.y dic-fin their graves. The tears of her husband were great as well as the sorrow ot those who knew her, on account of the excellent disposition she possessed, among her other endowments. The funeral was settled for the same day, the law per haps not there existing, but since es tablished, that (he dead should he kept as at present, twenty-four hours above ground. Antonio Rondinelli heard the event and grew ill through grief, it not appearing to him possible that envi ous deatn should so soon have snatch ed her from life. At the twenty-se cond hour she was taken to be buried, in the tomb of her family, accompa nied by the priests of the cathedral, to the church-yard of the same, and it is certain that this sepulchre is point ed out even in our day. “There was great talk through Flor ence of the death of this young wo man in the flower of youth, and not many months married. ‘Alien some hours of the nigjit had passed, which was at the time df full moon, Ginevra revived, or was somewhat relieved from the trance or lethargy, and hav ing opened her eyes as awaking from a deep sleep, and recovering her strength, came to herself, although much weakened by the disease and by hunger. The moon being up, she knew bv r a fissure near her in the stone of the sepulchre, that she was in a burying place, anil bound and shackled like a corpse, so that with that little strength which had returned to her,she tore part of the white vestment she had on, and taking courage, and re-; commending herself to God, she raised 1 herself first a little so as to sit, then crawling and supporting herself, she ascended from the tomb by the steps which led to the little stone, and by trying and trying again, she succeed ed in overturning part of that from above which was not built, and then bv creeping got ouf. The fear of dy ing in earnest, and her great terror, joined with a coldness produced by S the season, and badly clothed, furnish |rd no better expedient than to take | that way, which now, from this event, ;is called the way of death ; and she went in a very languid state, to the house of her husband, Angolanti, which stood in the line of the Adimar ni, now the way of the Cabzajob, but she went by the back way, and by the lane which still exists. When she rapped at the door, her husband, who stood melancholy at the fire, looked out and seeing that figure so unex pected, and hearing her hoarse and languishing voice, he trembled with fear, and terrified, made the sign of the cross, believing it was her spirit, he drove her away, promising that the following morning he would have her assisted with masses and prayers. Ginevra wept, and lamenting and sobbing, she eudeavored before she fainted in the street, to betake herself to the house of her father, Bernardo Amieri, who was not at home. Her mother answered from the window,and lo the sounds of lamentation, interrup ted too by reason of the cold, which seized on her trembling limbs, being frightened, said nothing else than goia peace blessed spirit; with the intention of laying her, Ginevra, still more lan guid, her voice almost extinguished and quite weary, not knowing what else to do, took the road, resting her self by the way, towards the house ofi an uncle of her’s near bv ; and this too was in vain, for she had no other re ception than a go in peace, and the Joel shut hastily m ncr la”' 1 - obliged to stop and lie down upon the ground, under tbe little terrace oi St. Bartholomew, thinking that she should there have to die. At which time, she bethought herself of her first lover, to whom she should have been married, contrasted v ith the present repulses and abhorrence winch she so keenly felt; and although itap- Dcarcd <o her a long w ay to the habita tion of Rondinelli, yet crawling along site got to the end of it, and rapped at thehoujfe of Antonio. Certainly Ron dinclli was tin* most courageous and intrepid, at sight of h tho?e whom slio hid gone to; for, t-kidg her woo she was that was covered in that v 0 1 he was not terrified in beholding her, j though breathless, and with a weak,; low voice; but having recognized her! by degrees, had her carried quickly in - ; to the house, and wrapped in warm! clothes and laid in a bed temperately! warm. He did not flatter himself, j however, that she would live, but used; every means to put off that crisis which) he saw impending. In this state of, things, it cannot be known which was | greater, his joy after having wept her; as dead, or'his grief to see her expi ring.—Me sat motionless beside her, keeping the people ol the house occu pied in attending her : the warm but, penetrating temperature of the bed, by degrees, brought her to herself, so that, timid and bashful, she was able to re commend her honor and her future fame to her former lover, if, indeed, there was any hope of her surviving.— She related t3 him, in the best way she could, and mostly by what had happened. Meantime, tiie best cor dials were not wanting, so that she had to protest, weeping that in the person of Antonia, were combined the love, the compassion, the courage, which on that night, had forsaken her mother, her husband and her uncle. As the conversation, hitherto diffi cult, and in an under voice, became by degrees somewhat more easy to her, she begged Antonio, that for every rea son, he would go and close the tomb: —and principally, that it might not be the me ms of making others, less fortu nate than herself, fall or stumble. Al ready eggs, drink and nourishing broth, were prepared for her, and when he went to the church-yard, he provided other, though Somewhat late restora tives. lie made his mother lie down beside her for that night, and kept a maid servant to watch and attend her. Four days had not passed when she announced that she was cured. And as it Oulioved her seriously to think of tier future state, she at length resolved, and resolving, determined never to re turn to her husband ; and if the worst should happen to become a nun, rather than cohabit with him, it being of no use to him to appeal to the tribunals, for this reason, that it appeared that death dissolves the band oi matrimony: and, in fact, who would have ever put it out of the head of her relations, who all rejected her, that she had really died ? And it appeared to herself a miraculous thing, that she again lived, in this state of things, her former hus -1 band Agolanti sold her clothes and or i naments as no longer useful, all which Rondinelli bought to reclotlie her with. M eanwhile having entered into anew marriage with him, under the hand of a notary, and her nearest relations, who were engaged in obtaining masses to be said for her soul, as it appeared to them she required, not knowing or not guessing the least of it, she went out on Sunday morning together with her new mother-in-law and a maid ser vant. Antonio following a distance behind them and all going to mass, she was recollected by some persons.— Siie was also met by her mother,and all making a circle around her and inter rogating her, her final answer was, that she being by the physicians, the eccle siastics, and by all the bystanders jud ged dead, and as such placed in the tomb ; that she had after several hours, found herself alive, although treated and abhorred as dead: and that, having wonderfully made her way to the hou ses of her husband, her father, her un cle, she was received by none except by Antonio, from whom the power of love took away all fear, and by receiv ing her, and succouring her with res toratives, had a great hand in her pres ent resurrection. And certainly if it had not been for Antonio, that which had not really happened on the morn ing before, must have succeeded in that woful night, when there was no less cause of dying than on the former.— Finally, when she had returned from church and had dined, she was cited by the Vicar, by a messenger from the Bishop’s palace. Francesco was there present, who could say nothing in con tradiction of her recital; wherefore in the presence of her, of Francesco, and of Rondinelli, the sentence w as not on ly, that she should remain the wife of Rondinelli, but that Angolanti should i also restore to her her portion, which was done—for so it was that through the ignorance of hysterical affections, then existing in the faculties, Ginevra was beiicVtil real!) dead, and a, culouslv resuscitated. Emporium. DISCOVERIES IN AFRICA. We understand that re<ercflr ; in Africa, of a very, interesting nature, are about to be published by Mr. Waklcch, a German w! has recently arrived in England from India having previously tra velled through Ainca, from Lgy; t to the Cape of Good Hope. It ap pears that at the foot of the Moun •tains of the Moon, he found an i. scribed pillar, erected by Komar j consul, about the period of the reign of Vespasian. He found v. ! level on the top of these mountain -1 nearly 400 miles broad, on which he : discovered a temple of the highest I antiquity and in fine preservation’ i and still used for religious purpo * ses by the inhabitants. South of the | level, he passed a decent of 25 day’s I journey, and, when advanced about ! nine days, he found a skeleton of a ; man with a telescope slung on his i shoulder, marked with name or. • Harris: and also a chronometer made by Marchant. .1 here were also two other skeletons ; and itwa? supposed the owners perished fov want of water. —Out of four Eu ropean companions who accompa nied Mr. Waldech, only one of them survived the hardships of the journey* Lend. Invest. “ I can quit u>hen I choose .” These few words have perhaps done more mischief in the world than can be conceived. Youths, just entering the threshold of life with the bright anticipations of their friends, allured by the syren Pleasure , with the sparkling cup in her hand, although sensible of the dark abyss yawning at their feet, too often stifle the disagreeable monitions of conscience and friendc, with this sophistical and false con solation, u I can quit when I choose.” Alaa ! link by link, is the chain forging, which soon is to bind such unfortunate youths, and bid defiance to their noblest resolu tions. Too true was the assertion of Lord Bacon, that u all the crimes on the earth do not destroy so many of the human race, nor alien ate so much property, as drunk enness.” It expels reason—drowns the memory—is the beggar’s com panion—and the true and only cause of the vast increase of crime in the world. There is certainly no character which appears so des picable and distrusting as that of a drunkard ; he displays every little spot in his soul in its utmost defor mity. When once the youth be comes a devotee at the shrine of’ Bacchus, and fond of his libations, it is time for him to think. Let him not lull his consience with the delusive idea of “ quiting when lie chooses,” but take a noble and firm stand, from that moment to cease indulging in his cup, and shun those cemeteries of morals and reputation with which our city unhappily abounds. Drunkenness, that fell, destroyer of mind and morals, has elided the exhortation of the preach er—the pen of the moralist—the warn of the physician—the plead ings of wife and children with tears in their eyes—the rernonstration of of the parent —and the yawning of the grave —but all will not do. It has reached an awful, and alarming height—it daily increases. It is known to require an extraordinary and noble firmness of heart to resist its blandishment and allurements. Is it then the temptation you are so easily to withstand, and the habit you are to “quit when you choose:’” Ah ! no—my dear young friends hearken to mv advice; when the seductive goblet is offered to your lips, think not you will once more sip the liquid cup, because you “ can quit it when you choose,” but con sider that that cup may probably be the one that will establish that habit with you, which you will never be able thereafter, to conquer, and dash the proffered cup with in dignation to die ground. During the recent electioneering contest m Massachusetts, Dr. Eustia was represented to be a moderate Cal vinist, which probably had the effect of securing him some votes among persons of that religious persuasion. Mi. Otis, (his opponent,) meeting him one morning on the Mall, after th usual friendly salutation inquired — “ Pray Doctor, how long have you bet*!) a moderate calvinist The Go vernor elect replied—“ I cannot say that I am yet entirely satisfied upon all tho Jive points, but on the important subject of election, l have r:o long*', any doubts.’’