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■ gt>ror’3r. kmsgi <fWm? THK Dl iXIST. The prorri- of hi* youth was bright, Amt fortune tent her Mime ; Amt genius like a burning light, illum’d liis path the while: Amt friendship wove a burnish'd chain, And hound it round his brow, And dearly whs he I >v and again By her who heard his vow. He lov’d and was belov’d 1 ween, By one as young as he, ~l'hc tidiest maid that on the green ►Spotted in maiden glee. One glance of her tweet eyes of blue, Was worth an age of bliss ; And O! they smiled on him too true For such a world as this. lie hud a mother, and her joy H as centred all in <>iie, The ‘pirit of her noble boy Was, of her world, the sun. And though the winter of her age Came o’er the wreck of years, His -mile could all her grief assuage, And dry her flowing tears. The birds were sporting in the grove, ’’l’was in the month ot May, When to Matilda and to love He gave is ham! away. The (lowers a sweeter fragrance threw, The heart age could not dim, Rich as the fountains of the dew J- W ith blessings teem ‘d tor him. I saw him stand amid them all, And pay his plighted vow— • I saw him when love’s e uonal Bloom'd freshly on his brow. 1 Saw him in hi? love-lit bower, When all was bright and gay Alas! that e-ver caine tin linin’ That s.vf.p t its bloom away. Twas on n summer’s eve like this, He wander’d far ulona; But first he stole a parting kiss From her his chosen one. And as, in whispers, tremblingly, lie said, “My love farewell!” I saw a tear bedim his rye— I saw his bosom swell. $ He went—but ne’er return’d again— He went at Honor s call, To shed liis blood like crimson rain— Ingloriously to full He fell! —and at the cottage now, Down on the village green, % AVith hollow cheek and dewy brow Is young Matilda seen. And nightly, by the pale moon's beam, She wanders to his rest— And still fecal’s the cruel dream That wrings her bleeding breast. He sleeps! am! near him gently sleeps His aged mother dear; /Matilda only lives, and keeps Her weeping vigils here. HOME. Breathes there a man with soul so dead, Who never to hitnself hath said’ This is my own, mv native land ! W hose heart hath ne’er within him hum and, As home his footsteps he hath tarnd, From wandering on a foreign strand ! If *i h there breathe, go mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though Ids titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power aud pelf, The wretch concentred all in self, Living shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from w hence lie sprung, Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung Ley of ike Last Minst re!. MS'CSUAHTs The following is extracted from Gra ham’s descriptive sketches of Vet mont. The spirit manifested is such as no li beral man can condemn though the act itself might have went too fat—still it is an excellent story, and believed to be a true one, and will furnish amusement to most persons who have not before seen it*—JV’t’Zes’ liegistcr. u The farmer, in question w*e a plain pious man, regular in tin; dis charge of his duty both to God and his neighbor; but, unluckily,lie hap pened to live near one with whom he was not inclined to cultivate ei ther civil or friendly terms. This troublesome personage was no oth er than a monstrous overgrown he hear that descended from the moun tains, trod down and destroyed the corn fields, and carried olf whatev er he laid his paws upon. The plundered sufferer watched him in vain, the ferocious and cunning an imal ever finding methods to elude his utmost vigilance ; and at last it had learned its cue so thoroughly, as only to commit its depredations on the Lord’s day, when it knew, from experience, the coast was clear. Wearied out with these oft repeat ed trespasses, the good man resolv ed,on the next Sunday, to stay in the fields, where with his gun he concealed himself. The bear came according to custom, he fired and shot it dead. The explosion threw the whole congregation (for it was about the hour oi the people’s as sembling to worship) into conster nation. The cause was enquired uitoi as spon as the pastor, deacon “ and clikto became accjuainj^dwith it, they called a special meeting of • the church and cited, the offending brother before them, to shew cause, if any he bad, tvhy he should not I he excommunicated out of Christ’s Church, for liis dating impiety. — In vain did he urge from the scrip tures themselves that it was lawful to do good on the sabbath day, he pleaded before judges determined to condemn him ; and the righteous parson, elders and church, viva vein- agreed to drive him out from amongst them as polluted and ac curst. Accordingly he was enjoin ed, (as is customary on such occa sions,) on the next Sunday to at tend his excommunication in the church. He did attend—but not entirely satisfied with the justice of the sentence, and too much of a sol dier to be scandalized in so public a manner for an action which he conceived to be his duty, he resolv ed to have recourse to stratagem ; he therefore went to the appoint ment with his gun, loaded with a brace of halls, his sword and cat ridge box by his side, and his knap sack on his back, with six days pro vision in it. Service was about half over when he entered the sanctuary. He mar ched leisurely into a corner and took his position. As soon as the benediction was ended the holy par son began his excommunication, but scarce had he pronounced the words w offending brother,” when the hon- j est veteran cocked and levelled his i weapon of destruction, at the same time erving with a loud voice, “ pro ceed if you dare, —proceed and you are a dead man !” At this unex pected attack, the astonished cler gvman shrunk behind his desk, and his opponent with great deliberation recovered his arms. Some mo- ments elapsed before the parson had courage to peep from his eccle siastical battery ; when finding the old hero had come to rest, he tre m blingly reached the order to the el dest deacon desiring him to read it. The deacon, with stammering i accents, and eyes staring with af iright, began as he was command ed', but no sooner had he done so, than the devoted victim again le velled his piece, and more vehe mently than before exclaimed, “ de sist and march—l will not live in shame—desist and march I sav, or you are dead men !” Little need had he to repeat his threats —the man of God leaped from his desk and escaped ; the deacon, elders, and congregation followed in equal ttepidation, the greatest confusion prevailed, the women with shrieks and cries, sought their homes ; and the victorwas left undisturbed mas ter of the field and of the church too, the doors of which he calmly locked, put the keys in his pocket, and sent them with his respects to the pastor. He then marched home with all the honors of war, lived thirteen years afterwards, and died a brother in full communion ; decla ring to the last, (amongst his in mates,) that he never tasted so great a dainty before.” CAUSE OF THE AMERICAS REVOLUTION. From Tudor’s “ Life of James Otis.” When president Adams was min ister at the court of St. James, he often saw his countryman, Benj’n West,the late president of the royal academy. Mr. West one day ask ed Mr. Adams, if he should like to take a walk with him, and see the cause of the American revolu tion. The minister having known something of this matter/ smilec at the proposal, but told him that he should be glad to see the cause of that revolution, and to take a walk with his friend West, any where. The next morning he cal led with agreement, and took Mr. Adams into Hyde Park to a spot near Serpentine river where he gave him the following narrative, she king came to the throne a young man surroufided by flattering courtiers ; one of whose frequent topics it was, to declaim against the meanness of his palace, which was wholly unworthy a monarch'of such a country as England,—They saic that there was not a sovereign in Europe who was lodged so poorlv, that his dingy, old, brick palace of St. James, looked like a stable, ant that he ought to build a palace sui ted to his kingdom. The king was fond of architecture, and wouk therefore more readily listen to Mich suggestions, which were in fact all true. This spot that you | see here was selected for the site, between this and this point, which were marked out. The king tip plied to the minister* on the sub ject, they inquired what sum would be wanted by his majesty, who said that he would begin with a million ; —they stated the expenses oi the war, and the poverty of the treasu ry, but that his majesty’s wishes should betaken into full considera tion. Some time afterwards the king was informed, that the wants of the treasury weie too urgent to admit of a supply from their present means, but that a revenue might be raised in America “to supply all the king’s wishes. This sugges tion was followed up, and the king was in this way first led to consid er, and then to consent, to the scheme for taxirtg the colonies. — Mr. West always acquitted the king of all blame in the measures con nected with the American war; but asserted, that he was from first to last kept in ignorance of the true state of the Question, and of the sit- A 1 uation of the colonies, and constant ly deceived by the misrepresenta tions of those about him. Though it is unquestionably true, that the king was led unwarily into the dis pute with the colonies, and that the cles’gn of taxing them was planned by others, yet he interested himself in it very deeply, and seemed to consider the struggle as a personal concern of his own. His character was naturally firm, in this case it became obstinate; and he yielded with the utmost reluctance his hold over the colonies. The loss of this power however was soon found to be a mutual advantage to both countries, and perhaps served to cure him of any wish to imitate the arbitrary views ot the Stuarts. Iron Church. —The following is extracted from the Christian Ob server for April 1823. We had not before known that such large portions of Churches had been built of iron “ St George’s Church is an object of considerable architectural inter est for its taste, and as having been nearly the first cast iron church erected in the kingdom. The whole of the frame-work of the windows, doors,pillars, groins, roof, and pulpit, and ornamental enrich ments, are of cast iron. The length of the church is 119 feet ;the breclth 47. It is ornamented with a splen did cast window of stained glass The tower, raised to the height of 96 feet, and standing on a hill, the site of an ancient sea beacon, is ele vated 345 feet above high-water mark, and commands one of the finest views in the kingdom, com* prehending the town and shipping of Liverpool, the estuaro of the Mersey, the level surface of Lanca shire, as far as the eve can trace the prospect, with the craggy hills of Walls towards the west, and towards the northeast the distant mountains of Cumberland and Westmoreland. The contemplative Christian, viewing so many of our churches thus characteristically si tuated, will be inclined to see in them an apt emblem of what the mi nisters of Christ themselves should ever be, u guides and way-marks in the path to bliss ;” or in still, more authoritative language, “ cities set upon a hill which cannot be hid.” .ts Costly Subject. —A surgeon in England, desirous of having a subject for the benefit of his pupils, agreed with some of the alt-night people to procure him one. At about half past 11 at night, a subject was accordingly brought, and placed in the parlour for the night. The surgeon retired to rest, and early on the following morn ing he went to the parlour for the pur pose of removing his purchase to the dissecting room. The bag was there, but the subject had left, most uncour teously, taking with him plate to the amount of 40/. THE VIRTUE OF PHILOSOPHY. “ Does! thou veil to he angry for llie gourd ?” Or to fret at any of the petty acci dents of life ? T hou discontented mortal, undoubted descendant of Jonah, why dost thou suffer a cloud to gather on thy brow, because there is a little one no biger than a mail's hand rising in the sky! Be serene thyself, and it will import thee little whether it rains or blows. Os all the vile habits that of fret fulness is the least tolerable.— Many offensive things which vul gar people do, are sometimes laid aside, and their neighbours are occasionally freed from annoy.— But fretfulness is a king of perpet ual motion excited no less by a creaking than by a fit of the gout. It is a voracious monster, and feeds upon minute as well as vast vex ation. Let us strive therefore to pluck off this blister from the heart, and even in the hottest and most oppressive days of lile, care not whether the shelter of a “ gourd be extended over us or taken away. On a review of what I have thus far written, I believe there is no occasion to look so far back as the history oi an ancient paophet for an instance of anger employed up on ti i lies.—ls I should lift the win dow sash of my study, I should discover whole companions fretting and fuming for the “ gourd.” Walking in a studious mood by the side of a neighbor’s garden fence, I observed him stamping upon the ground with much disor der, that I concluded he was in convulsions, or practising a dance of. St. Vitus. Humanity urged me towards him, and I medidated medical,rather than moral aid.— But to my eager question of “ what aileth thee ?” he replied to iny astonishment that the bugs had blighted all his cucumbers , and was not that enough to make a man mad i I endeavored to compose his perturbed spirits, and quoted to him Seneca on tranquility ot mind, and part of one of Basil’s Homilies, but all in vain.—l re tired. The Laij Preacher. The author of “ The Emerald Isle,” in a speech at a meeting of the Catholics of Dublin, thus per sonifies Bigotry;— “ She has no head, and cannot think—no heart, and cannot feel! W hen she moves, it is wrath—when she pauses, it is amid ruin—her prayers are curses—her God is a Demon—her communion is death —her vengeance is eternity ! her Decalogue is written in the blood ot her victims—and if she stoops fora moment in her infernal flight, it is upon some kindred rock, to w het her vulture fang for keener rapine, and replume her wing for a more sanguinary desolation !” Slander. —Against slander there is no detence. Hell cannot boast so toul a fiend : nor man deplore so tell a foe ; it stabs with a word, with a ned—with a shrug—with a look—with a smile: It is the. pesti lence waiding in darkness, spread ing contagion far and wide, which the most wary traveller cannot avoid; It is the heart-searching dagger of the dark Assassin : It is the poisoned arrow whose wound is incurable : It is the mortal sting of the deadly adder Murder , is its employment. Innocence its prey— and Ruin its sport. The Tear —A tear is what? ’Tis the overflowing of the cup of sensibil ity —the index of a soul fraught with feeling—the aliment of a heart droop ing in solitude—with the base, ’tis the arms ot warfare against the innocence of loveliness, simplicity and beauty ; with woman, ’tis the shield of defence against the wily and insidious —her weapon of defence to the cold, the obdurate, the unfeeling; with the pa rent, ‘tis the blessing of age on the off spring of youthful vigour and affec tion ; with the child, ’(is the support ing staff of filial piety; with friends, ’tis the token of tiie communion of souls to the afflicted, ’tis the adminis tering angel of consolation—the bairn ot Gilead to the wounded spirit—the dew of sympathy to the withering flow ers of sorrow. From a Peunsi/loania Paper. Las Friday week bein de 4t dav ob dis mont, a grate many ladies and gen tlemen ob kolor met at Paxton Creek, long side de pike pond, where we kotcli a deblislt big snapper. Arter some time he wur roast and skin’d will some good ham, de hole bein wash down wid whiskey ami lasses —ilovt name it. l)e brocession den move up to de brick-kill where Mass Zeck, deliber de folloin orashun. Ladies and Gentleman*—As it is sposen dis respeckable conneckshun bab neber kno what dis day wur made lur, I guess lie better pay strick atten sliun tiif I tell um. In dese present time, dare be so many people dat lib in ignorance and all sort ob destruc tion, dat de Lord liesell harly kno what he make him lor, an unless you lain somethin consarnin dis day in ginral, or de worl in particklar, you will be no better dan some ob de wites over yantler. Ladies and Gentlemen—-You all hab hear about one Hroder Jonatan, who transport dis kolony once afore arterwards. Wen he cum here he fight the Injin olf dis lan, a ful lake pe aceablc possession heself, alter SUt . lose hescallup an git roast miid, |;i’ yon. snapper you kotch. Deiihe*,,! coin, an punkin, an buck-wheat f Ur | own eatin, much as he want, an be ~! to grow as fat as de possum in and,. ji"‘ stubble: Butde king ob Englin,lij.fl hear ob dis gude luck, cum ober i n T, boat an ax uin to go babes— J 0 | lat swear he tarnation clear ob any Slic l ting. Den de king lif up he f 00 t an kick uni, and Jonatan he kick back V bofe got in grips, and tie king hap,’!!! to git lick’d. Arter dis, he promi’ L‘ on lie honor neber to cross de agin, and so he wallnp home. J ()tu taa wur so grad on occashun oh ,|jj fight, he soon get mighty drunk which happen as I say afore, on de 4t day of i!is moot, an for dat bressed happily we all had a right to take frolick e lV> since. Ladies and Gentlemen—Dig is ( | f , lan ob freedom and distinction. p;[, (V ry man an woman hab a right to do ,| r bes for heself. Nobody liub any rite to put us in limbo for debt, only mi ml de back step—don't let um kotch veil stealin. As de harbest will soon be here now at dis present time, hope y ou all go to work an take care yourself. Keep tis upper lip, an dat is all 1 | ia [| to say. I)e kumpany den sat down in a par pendiclar line, de ladies on de tense wen dese louses wur drunk an mud! fun— De 4lli ob July —wonder why he so long comin ebery time—guess cans he so good. Song—Twas in de mont ob July, In de year ob ’Bl Cornwallis he surrender, To Ginral VVasbiiitiiu. President Buyer of Uayti-—’ Take care boy—l guess hekno a little. Song —Unit to de Chief, n in. 11. Crawford —Like to see de breed cross—lndian squaw, he nigger, big childer an two at once.* Clear de track as John Darnel say when he saw de big brack ram comin tumpin. Song —Du uce to de gal uiidde yellow shawl or. De Suskehanna riber —de lan ob de cat-fish and eel. 5 ague shake. Slabery —May de planter ob de sout neber hab he boot black, he coat brush, he head comb, he face wash or he nose clean. Go way white man, Ell bun you vvid a chunk. 2 grunt. De corkus legislater— Leake at both ends—hope he hole de water next time, no catchee no habee. Tune—Go to de HeL.il and shake youself, Cum back agin and beliabe youself. * De sea sarpent *—When he cum he cum—when tie cum he no cum. Bose eyes shut. John Binns —Box de compass—-eat poke-bery —hang he frien an cheat oie G tongue out. De stepping mill —Hope he inven tor take first ride on him hesef. Six Curse. De Pirates —on de sea unsafe—on de lan uusartain. Song—Vou know what happen arter dat, John Kutty my Jo. ‘Clipse an Sir Harry —He run as taster as eber he could tor he soul. 8 Horse luff. De fair seek —more water an less paint. Song—Oh weep for de hour, When to Missey Dinah’s bow’r In a berry dark night Mr. Sambo come. De president of de day now gib de signal for no more toase, on suspicion ob de genteman gettin noisy aqd de la dies on defense ginnin to cus an hollo, so Bill Cuff, he ax pennishin to sing a song an deliber de follovvin, all <lc kompany keepin step. Eat de meat, say your prayer, To make you able, Winegar shoes an papir stocking Stan back—take care, Reuben Reed, Reuben Reed, Front step—hack step, On de head de wool he grow Brake down get ober dt. I went down de bay shore, Dare i saw ole Granny Grace, She look as ugly in de lace, As when 1 hab half a pint ; Reuben Reed, &tc. I look on de mantle piece, I saw a monkey face, Shinin in a lookiu glass; Turn about, half roun : Reuben Reed, 6lc. Old aunt Kate, old aunt Kate, What you got for supper, Cold milk and bunch ol faggot; Cold ham and little rabbit; Reuben Reed,kc. I went don n to sea shore, Dare 1 hear de crabs a knockin ; Ketch de lady roun de wait, Ami ask he how de Juba taste; Reuben Reed, &c. Sambo had a son born, Jus like he daddy O, Bow he shin crack he toe, De double step to Juba O ; Reuben Reed, Reuben Reed, front step—back step, On de head de wool he grow, Brake down get oler dut. A self-conceited coxcomb was inti' o, ducing an acquaintance to a larg e company, whose physiognomy was not very prepossessing; thinking to be extremely clever, lie thus addressed the company, who rose at his entrance 1 “ I have the honor to introduce <y° a Mr.———, who is not so'great a foul a* 1 he looks to he.” The voung man if’ mediately added “ Therein consist* the difference between my friend and me.”