II
y 337. wma:az?Di
FM
A Warning Cry.
HT 'MISS SIIERrDL7 CARET
A Toiling - from the morning gray
-4 Toiling, toiling through the day,
c =l
l ' . '; Till the spirit faints away, ....
7:1 Bound, in triple iron,. bound ! -
ilk'''si By the taper's famished light,
'failing, - wiling through the night,
'Ti!l the dimmed and aching sight
:Sees hat shadows gathering round—
m•ll VI tie lip's warm hue is g0ne—
,..9 TII the brew is pale and wan—
Fr I
r Till the pitying sun looks on—
it, Gasping slaves in stupor cast;—
..
- Toiling through the hours pain,
V- -
L Taxing !land, and heart, and brain,
:r :re —and scarcely Lreod—to gain!
ri ,.' Shall this—shall this every last?
Shall the spoi!er seize by stealth,
Youth, and hope, and strength, and health?
Natu're's.dory—nature's wealth— •
Shall they L—shall they ever he—
Youth and hope, an April beam I
strength, delusion? health, a dream?
Age,—a fearful ghastly theme—
Pain, and grief, and penuryl x
Thou who i•eest ! thou who hearest !
Thou the mourner's heart who cheerest !
Thou who veiled in clouds appearest
swift, and terrible and strong!
UntO thee; with stony eye, '
'Bloodless cheek, and boding cry,
Docmcd to toil, and toil—or inc.,
Want aucaleth. "Lord, how lung .'"
Ve, whose '''.confidence " is gold,
roliacious. crafty, bold—
\llA the laborer's hire withhold—
Who the fruits of toil deny—
Il'hu the starving Poor distress,
Who the weak, the old, oppress—
Treruhle'l they shall have redress,
Lu ! their groans are heard on high!
Tremble ! tremble! well you may—
Godless tyrant of a day—
Trampling on your fellow-clay
' Trampling human hearts to dust !
Vengeance is the Lords ! ben-are !
lie %%ill list the poor man's prayer,
Rine the crushed, and chase despair!
Tyrants, wo ! THE Loan IS JtST
The Flag of Liberty.,
Oh! proudest symbol on the seas! -
Young benne': of my native land.;
Oa ecery shore, ori eceiy breeze,
Thy star and staiiless fulds are fann'd.
On thee the fires of Heels shine,
And Andes. ice reflected gleams, •
Thyshadow paints the poplar brine,
ajAll Indian gulfs, all tropic streams.
rrpt:',l Egypt, startled in her fen,
Beholds thee fluttering on thftNile,
pi And fearless tribes of naked men
Hail thee froth far Tahiti's Isle.
Where'er oppression's flag shall dare
To carry new distress and wrong,
Thy radiant heraldry shall bear
A token earth bath looked for long.'
•
A token of the dawning day
To all who yet in bondage droop,
When crowns and chains must melt away,
And man to man disdain to,stoop.
A taken of the freeman's right
To rule the land their valor won ;
is title, justice—and the fight;
His fit regalia, sword and gun. • -
le hues of heaven's prophetic bow
Less beauteous then shall seem than thine
kod less of peaceful hope bestow ,
Than thy more fair, fulfilling sign.
Oh flag of promise! unto us
Thy stars foretell our country's fame,
it crimsoned stripes, translated thus,
Give promise to our foes, of shame.
Woman's Love.
True and faithful as I've found thee,
Kind and tender as thou Art,,,
There are tendrils twining.round thee:
• Springing:from a warmer heart.
Fondly be ats thy bosom, dearest.
Each pulsation true to . me,
Sweetly soft the smile thou wearest,
Tender every look frbm thee.
Still there is a bOsom got wing
. •
With a stonier love than thine,
Still a fuller stream is flociing
From this swelling heart of mine.
titrong tho be thy heart's emotion,
Tho' tby passions wildlyglow,
Oh! there is a deep devotion
Wofnan's heart alone may know.
6 weet it is that " thinking of me "
Drives away each broody ill;
B ut remember while you love me,
Tho u art loved more fondly still.
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The Trapper.
A LEGEND OF THE WEST
On the shores of the Hudson, in
times long since passed away, an isola
ted being lived, bearing the name of
Nick Wolsey. His solitary home was
ip the valley of the highlands, about a
mile from the river's bank, and his oc
cupation consisted in hunting and trap
ping, and trading for furs with the lir
dians. He was tall and gaunt, with a
peculiarly stern and even melancholy
expression of feature, and, from his
lonely, gloomy habits, seemed to claim
no kith or kindred with any living crea
ture. The only companion of his
hours was a grizzly deerhound, whose
speed and strength often overmatched
the fleetest buck—and once he closed
with a silver panther, and despiite the
monster's , furious struggle tore the wind
ptpe from his throat. ,Crouched be
fore the fire, in the log cabin, he would
watch each move and gesture of his
master, and be as ready as his 'shadow
to obey his beck and look.
year had come and gone, and
still found no change in the trapper's
home.
One day a party • of Indians of the
Mohawk tribe approached his dwelling
and proffered skin's in exchange for the
white man's lire water and gunpowder,
Among them was a gad of singular beau
. iv, and tv,th her Nick %Vol:4er became
suddenly and deeply enamored. As he
looked at her full, round and faultless
form. his eves flashed with the fire- in
his veins, and the volcano of passion
burns through each fibre of his frame.
No sootier was this feeling engendered,
than he strove to win the brawny skin
—as many a fair one has been won—
by pouring gifts into her lap—and long
before a cessation of his profuseness
took place. dozens of strings of bead , :
were twined round her fair arms and
neck, and rings and baubles of all kinds
bedizened her person. Then the whis
key flask was ()tiered gratuitously to
the company, and Nick's suit progress
ed With the brightness and velocity of
a sky-rocket. In a short time a de
mand was made for the red man's daugli
ter, accompanied by a present of a
hatchet and knife to the father and a
willing consent obtained.
A chief, whose fiery
g lance showed
the effect of the potent dram, bent his
brow, and winged au arrow perpendicu
lady to the clouds—and as it drove in
to the earth quivering with the force,
directed the trapper to remain by the
side of the weapon. Then he shotone
some hundred yards in a direct line,
and then the expectant bride was con
' ducted to the spot where it fell by the
father and her friends. A third Was
then driven to the ground, a few feet
from where she stood, and the chief,
who acted as priest in the ceremony,
addressed Nick Wolsey, by saying
as he again pointed ,an arrow up
warth—
• If my white brother would win the
bird, he must catch her ere she gains
her nest ;" and drawing his b9w, the
arrow twanged from the string, and
away rushed the trapper at the signal.
For a brief second the coqUette seemed
resolved to reach the goal which won!"
have freed her from her plighted faith ;
but stopping suddenly in her rapid path,
she turned on her heel, and threw her
self with a ringing laugh, into Nick's
outstretched arms.
.A shout of triumph announced the
success of his suit ; and to all, save one,
the cothpletion appeared to give great
satisfaction. This was an Indian youth,
an undeclared lover of the trapper's
brio. In secret he had worshiped the
idol of his affection, trusting that time
would enable him to gain the prize, and
When his hope seemed ripening, he saw
her thus suddenly lost to him and lost
forever.
"May the Great Spirit strengthen
my arm !" said he, dashing forward,
with all his savage nature roused with
in him—and like a tiger springing up
onihis prey, he
,was -about burying his
knife between the shoulders of the un•
suspecting trapper, when backwards he
went to the earth as if a whistling bul
let had rushed through his brain, in the
strong grip of Nick's deer-bound.
Holloa!" exclaimed the trapper,
releasing his wife from an embrace re
sembling a grizzly bear in tenderness,
Why, what's this about, eh ?"
The drawn knife in the fallen Indian's
grasp. and his ferocious aspect revealed
the causes cf the dog's unexpected at
tack, who continued to pin-him firmly
to the ground in his torturing hold.
" Art jealous, man ?" said Nick,
laughing and bestowing a kick of no
gentleforce . on his prostrate enemy.—
Art jealous . ?" And attng him from
Regardless of Denunciation from any Quarter. —Gov. l°
- 0 ATER
OLZMU2', 9 eIQO
. 7aLMOM LZa 11:046ck
the earth, and snatching the blade from
him, he culled him, among the jibes
and jeers of his tribe, far away from the
scene of his discomfiture.
Months rolled away. The maple
leaf wore the brown tint of searching
autumn, and Nick Wolsey.was a rough
but doming father. Upon returning
from examining his traps, late one even
ing., he was somewhat astonished, and
not a little vexed, at his wife's neglect
ing to meet him, according to his won
ted custom, some short distance from
the log cabin.
" Where is .Minamee, I wonder,"
said. he, striding towards the door—
and as he reached the threshhold,he
-
stumbled heavily against something
laid across it. Upon stooping to as.
certain the cause he discovered the life.
less body of his faithful dog.
Alinainee," he shouted with sten
torian lungs. Sea and earth how
did this happen Minatnee, I say !"
" Hush !" exclaimed a voice in a
low whisper, " hush you'll wake my
N Wake your child !" repeated he,
nestling her infant to her bosom, as he
threw open , the door, " Wake your
thezentenee was unfinished. Fell hor
ror petrified hint with the sight that
presented itself ; his lower jaw drop
ped and his eyes seemed read.; to start
from their sockets—the warm blood
curdled in his veins, and the checked
pulse ceased its throbbing. t,•;itting, be
fore the hearth upon the floor, there
was the young mother bearing marks
of cruel violence and her disordered
dress, and pressing to her brePst the
headless trunk Of her infant. Pale was
her countenance—and the.fixed, glassy
stare betokened madness in•all its hor
rid form.
Say," screamed the trapper, rush
ing to the side of his demented wile—
,. say how—who has done this ?"
God of Heaven ?" exclaimed he—
she's • daft—gone !" and
scarcely less so himself the s.trong bold
hunter howled in his misery.
, For days he was unable to learn the
particulars of des terrible catastrophe.
At length a change took }!ace in the
benighted reason of his wife—but like
the remaining spark in the charred em
ber, it was the last effort of the mind
ere death expunged its miseries.
It appeared that-at sunset, Minamee
was preparing- to set out to meet her
husband, after rolling her little charge
in a Buffalo skin, and laying him on
his bed when a long shadow of a man
was cast suddenly into the entrance,
and as quickly disappeared. Irk:deer
hound sprung from the floor on which
he had been lying ; as he leaped to the
door-way, followed by his mistress, the
sharp crack of a rifle was heard, and
the noble animal fell dead at her feet.—
In an instant afterwards the form of an
Indian, whom Minamee at once recog
nized as the foiled assassin at her mar
riage, bounded into the cabin, and de
spite the mother's furious struggle,
clutched her child from his couch, and
brandishing his knife with savage yells,
severed his head from his body.
"There," pitching the headless
corpse towards the frantic mother, " is
my revenge. Blood to the red man's
wrong is as water to lire. I am satis
ged. Farewell." And turning upon
his heel, he quitted the spot like one
who had accomplished a noble deed,
and with a slow and haughty footfall.
The hitherto happy and contented
home of the trapper was now desolated.
It was a lon g, long time since tears had
fallen fret?' Nick's eyes ; but as he
watched the siulting moments of his
dying wife, they chased each other
down his; forrowed cheeks instreams,
and shelved the flood-gates tis heart
were open. As the sun rose;the spirit
of Minamee fled.
" Revenge!" exclaimed the trapper.
rising from the side of the dead hotly
of his wife. over which "he mourned for
hours. " l'll have such revenge that
in tale and story none can equal. I'll
be more bloody than the panther--more
cruel than the beast or savage,, of any
kind or • time. Revenge !" centiuued
he. with a convulsive laugh ; " the
white man's vengeance shall at least
match the red."
Mounting his Pmall, but but fleet
steed, caught from the wild praiiie, the
trapper turned his head towards the
west, and driving his heels into his
flanks, gallopped, like
,one reckless of
life and limb, to the valley of the Mo
hawk. There, as he anticipated, he
found the tribe from whom his Indian
wife had been chosen. Brief was the
horrid tale of his wrongs. and•as brief
were his demands for justice.
Give me t '? said the trapper. " the
murderer, and let me deal with him as
I list."
The chiefs listened with that seem
ing- apathy with which they listened to
every relation whether of good:or
evil ; and continued to send volumes of
smoke, curling upwards from their lips,
as they sat in a circle about the fire,
without a perceptible emotion of any
kind. At length the elder said, after a
lung silence, my white brother says
well. Let it be so. Deal with him as
you list. Take him hence."
The consent obtained, a howl of
savage delight burst from the trapper's
breast, as he pounced like a gallant ti
ger upon his victim—" You're mine,"
clutchtna the rernoreless wretch by the
throat, and lifting him from the earth
in his brawny grasp like a weak puny
child. " You're mine !" repeated he ;
" and as ye giive no Mercy. none shall
be given ve."
iddina long, narrow strips of un
tanned hide round the shoulders, arms
and wrists of the prisoner, he bound
them ti,ght to his holy, and fixing one
cud to his rude stirrup, threw himself
upon his horse to ri:traee his steps at a
siow and leisurely pace. The trapper
appeared even to select the path with
care, so that the prisoner might not be
injured by break or brier on their pro
,gress.
In silence—without one word being
spoken in that tong, long night—they
contintwd on throuoli waste and wild.
The unruffled Iltidson reflected 'the
clear rays of the moon, bright s,nd un
broken as a mirror. The refreshing
mists robed along the sides of the high
lands in graceful folds, and nothing
broke on the ear but the wash of waters
and the melancholy note of the w hip
poor- will. Just as the first tinge of
light streaked the east, the trapper ar
rived at the door of his cabin ; and se
curing his prisoner beyond the chance of
escape, to the trunk of a primeval ‘vd
low hard by. be at once began the task
of his unparalleled, unheard of re-
With a hatchet he cut long and stout
branches front the willow, and tying
them firmiy together with pieces of
dried skin,forined a sort of rough strong
b.nsket, resembling a lare cradle.—
\' hen this was complete lie threw his
helpless' captive into it, at lenoth and
with his lace upwards, and, passing
strips of hide through the apertures of
the cradle from his feet to his neck,
hound him fast, that not even a sinew
might he moved, Then taking the
copse of wife—ill fated Mipamee I he
placed it face to face with his prism r.
The horrified wretch clenched and grit
ted his teeth as the body pressed upon
his; hut no groan escaped his lips.—
Ilis eves revealed the an
guish of his soul, still he would not
speak. In a few minutes the living
and the dead were lashed together.—
The breathing man and putrid corpse,
festering corruption were as one.—
When so much of the horrid work was
finished, the trapper stood with folded
arms, with a fiendish smile, surveyed
the advancement of his task.
" And now to complete it," said he.
lifting the load lightly in his arms, and_
placing it long ways on the back of his
horse, tethered on the green sward.—
The animal snuffed the air, and would
have plumed from his burden, had not
the well known voice of his master
quieted him. Still he stood with fiery
eye-balls and dilated nostrils, ready to
fly from his own shadow, as he smelt
the offensive stench issuing from the
cradle. Girding it in the same fashion
as the bodies were bound together round
the loins ribs and neck of the horse, he
so contrived to fix it that neither jolt
nor jar could move it from the firm po
sition.
Now my eagle of the rock," said
the trapper, addressing his horse, '•my
untamed unicorn, You shall, for the first
rime since you left the prairie grass,
feel the effects of the lash. and taking a
punishing switch in bis hand, lie struck
the animal sharp, until wrought In i
pitch of fury and pain. Flakes'of foam
dew from his mouth, and streams of
perspiration rolled from every pore in
the skin.
Leaping in the air like a stricken nag,
he strove to snap the bond which held
him, and at length with one terrific
plunge and cry of .terror. broke away
with the speed of thought, and sWrpt
through forest, swamp and wild, with
madness in every stride. On, on he
went. The flood was passed, the
prairie gained ; still On Ite went. A
wild, piercing shriek broke on the un
bounded waste, and lent ,new fear to the
maddened horse. On, on he went.—
The noon-tioe sun darted his rays, un
broken by ,leaf or bough,upon the fleet
ing overloaded steed : but still his gal
lop Was • unslackened. His skimming
shadow became gigantic in the falling
light ; and still he continued on. The
pale moon tipped the thin fleecy clouds
with her silver light—and yet his speed
was unabated.
'Tis said—but even in a whisper—
by the hunters of the far west, that /the
horse may still be seen scouring the
plains, where the foot fall of man is
seldom heard, with the load of the liv
ing and of the dead.
Yankee Courtship.
Jonathan Dunbar saw Prudence
Feastalf at a meeting.—Jonathan sidled
up to Prudence arter meeting, and she
kind a sidled off. He Went-closer and
axed her it she would accept the crook
o' his elbow. She resolved, she could,
and plumped her arm right round his'n.
Jonathan felt all overish, and said he
liked the text, " Seek and ye shall find,"
was puny gond readin. Prudence
hinted that " Ask and ye shall receive,"
was better ; Jonathan thought so too,
but this axing was a puzzler. A fellow
was apt to get into a snarl when he ax
ed, and snarlin warn% no fun. Pru
dence guessed strawberries and cream
were slick. Jonathan thought they
warn't so slick as Pro's lips. Now
don't," said Pru, and she guvJonathan's
arm an involuntary hug.—He was a
leetle started. but thought his farm want
ed some female help to look arter the
house. Pru knew how to make rale
good bread. " Now don't," said Pro.
" If 'should," said Jonathan—" Now
don't." said Pru. 'Maybe you wouldn't'
—and Jonathan shuck all over, and
Prudence replied, "If you be coming
that game, you'd better tell feyther."
" That's just what I . want," said Jona
th in ; and in three weeks Jonathan and
Prudence were "my old man" "and my
old woman."
THE SCHOOLMASTER.--There is 110
office higher than that of a teacher of
youth, for there is nothing on earth so
precious as the mind, soul, and charac
ter of the child.No office should be more
respect. The first minds•in the comuni
ty should be encouraged to assume it.
Parents should do all but impoverish
themselves-, to induce such to become
the guardians and guides of their chil
dren. To this good all their shoW and
luxury should be sacrificed. Here
they should be lavish, whilst they
straighten themselves in everything else.
They should wear the cheapest clothes,
live on the plainest food, if they can in
no other way secure to their families the
best instruction. They should have no .
anxiety to accumulate property for their
eltili'lren, provided they can place them
under influences which will awaken their
faculties, inspire them with pure and
high principles, and fit them to bear a
manly, useful, and honorable part in the
world. No kagunge can express the
cruelty or folly of that economy, which,
to leave a fortune to a child, starves his
intellect and impoverishes his heart.—
Channing.
Natural Attraction.
I don't like to be left alone with a
gal, it's plaggy apt to set me soft saw
derin' and a courtin'. There is a sort
of natural attraction like in 'this world.
Two ships in a calm are sure to get
along side of each other if there is no
wind, and they have nothing to-do but
to look at each other: miff does it.—
Well, even the tongs and the shovel
won't stand along ; they are sure to
get on the s saine side of the fire, and be
sociable ; one of 'm has loadstone, and
draws t'other,, that's certain.. If that's
the case with hard hearted things, like
oak and iron, what is it with tender
hearted things like humans ? Shut me
up in a- 'sarvetory with a hansum gal
of a rainy day, see if I don't think she
is the prettiest flower in I am
glathit is the dinner bell, for I aint rea
dy to marry yet, and when I am, I
guess I most - get a gall where I got my
boss, in old Connecticut, and that state
takes the shine off all creation for geese,,
gals and onions, that's a fact.—Sant
Slick in En.-land.
FIRESIDE CHEERFELNESS.--Culti
rate a cheerful spirit. Cheerfulness is
the twin sister of gratitude. They are
born together. They walk baud in
hand through life, and the death of the
,one breaks the heart of the other.—
Gratitude is the homage which the
heart gives to God for his goodness.—
Cheerfulness the external manifestation
of his }liaise.
FOR A COLD AND IMARSENgSS.-13oil
a middling sized turnip, lay it in amp
mon saucer, and pout on it three table
spoonsful of common -molasses—the
juice of the turnip is extracted and
forms a syrup, which will he found
very efLaCious in removing the hoarse
ness and sore throat of a common cold:
EW:t fa. evocatiaota cask
The First Prayer in Congress.
The subjoined extract of'a character
istic letter from John Adams, describ
ing a Beene in the Ist Congress in ,
Philadelphia, in September, 1774.
shews very cleaily oti what power the
mighty men of old rested their cause.—
Mr. Adams thus writes to a friend at
the time :
%V hen the Congress met, Mr. Cash
ing made a motion that it should' be
opened with prayer.. It was opposed
by Mr. Jay of New York, -and Mr.,
Rutledge of South Carolina, because we
were so divided in religioussentiments,
some Episcopalians, some Quakers,
some Atiabaptists.!iome Presbyterians,
and some Congreptionalists, - that we
could not join in thesame act of wor
ship. Mr. Sanwa" Adams arose and
said that he was no bigot, and could
hear a prayer from any gentleman of
piety and virtue who was at the Barrie
time a friend to his country. He was
a stranger in Philadelphia, but he had
heard that Mr. Duche, (Dushay, they
pronounced it,) deserved that character,
and therefore moved that Mr. Duche,
an Episcopal Clergyman, might be
desired to read prayers to the Congress
to-morrow morning. The motion was
seconded, and passed in the affirmative.
Mr. Randolph, our President, waited
on . Mr. Duche, and received for an
swer, that if his health would perrnit
he certainly would. Accordingly, next
morning he appeared with his clerk.
and in his pontificals, and 'read several
prayers ins the established form, and
then read the collect for the 7th day of
September:which was the thirty,fifth
Psalm. You must remember, this was
the next morning after we had heard
the rumor of the horrible cannonade of
Boston. It seemed as if Heaven had
ordained that Psalm to be read on that
morning.
After this, Mr. Duche, unexpected
ly to every body, struck out into an ex
traordinary prayer, which filled the
bosom of every man present. I Must
confess I never heard a better prayer,
or oneso well pronounced. Episcopa
lian as he is, Dr. Cooper himself never
prayed with such fervor, such ardor,
such correctness and pathos, and in
language. so eloquent and sublime, for
America, for Congress,' for the Pro
vince of the Massachusetts Bay,'es-pe
cially the town of Boston. It has had
an excellent effect on every body here.
I must beg you to read the Psalm. .If
there is any faith in the sortes,Virgili
anw, or sortes liomericw, or especially
the sortes Bibliep, it would be thought
providential."
Here was a scene worthy of the
painter's art. - It was in Carpenter's
Hall in Philadelphia, a building which
(we learn by a recent article,) still sur
vives in its original condition, though
now sacrilegiously converted we be
lieve, into an auction market for the
sale of chairs and tables, that the forty.
four individuals met to whom this ser
vice. was read.
Washington was kneeling there, and
Henry, and Randolph, and Rutledge.
and Lee, and Jay. and by their •sides
stood., bowed in reverence, the Puritan
patriots of New England, who at that
moment had reason to believe that an
armed soldiery was wasting their hum-
Me households. It was •believed that
Boston had been bombarded and de
stroyed. They prayed fervently "'for
America, for the Congress, for the Pro.
vince of Massachusetts Bay, and espe
cially for the town of Boston ;" and
who .c.in realize the emotions with
which they turned imploringly to Hea
ven for divine interposition and aid ?
"It was enough," says Mr. Adams,
"to melt a heart of stone. I saw tears
gush into the eyes of the old, grave,
pacif. c Quakers of Philadelphia."—
Newark Daily rldv.
Eastern Anecdote.
As a woman was walking, a man
looked at her and followed her.
Why do you follow me ?" she
asked
Because J have fallen in lotte with
you," he replied,.
Why are you in love with me, e
?"
said she. -.141y sister is much hand
somer she is coming after me; go and
make love to her."
The man turned hack, and saw a wo
man with an ugly face. Being greatly
displeased, he'lturned to the first one;
and said. - -
IV by did you tell me a.falsehOOd?",
Neither did Noll speak the truth.".
.
replied she•; " for tivou were really;
in love with me, why * did you leave me
to look upon my sister ?" .
..There.is much good sense in there-
mark, Sayi an e c ange. and ifS spore
tr,irls weri , as' sons hie
,as there
would he less incol sUtiev: •
111
MN - CIO