11 v©Willral i=llMi UOVY.LI7M,4IB WEDNESDAY , ItPTEMBEII 10, 1845 TOR NORTH Basses Cirritt.—ln another column, we insert a letter from the Philadelphia:, correspondent of the Washington Union, giving an interesting descripr lion of the North Branch Canal,—the vast amount of business it will transact, and the extensive markets it pa open for the mineral wealth of Pennsylvania. The writer is evidently well aware of the magnitude and ins ..rtanee of thl work. [For the Bradford Reporter.] Basses. EDS.—Your correspondent Benevole must tun . ver y high opinion of his eloquence, to suppose that I am to be frightened away from lawful enjoyments, by such an address as that in your paper of the 20th ult. It is'essy to call hard names ; but the world is too old to be scared intrit the doctrine of total abstinence in thisway. It may be will for those who want the means of a gen tlemanly life to avoid both brandy and cigars; or if one is tea weak to keep himself within the bounds of tempo• mice, he may as well choose the safer course,—but my hberties are not to be abridged. Benevole talks of evil spirits: I know two kinds of them; the one poor liquors. which I never touch;' the other called the blues, which a single stilling will always put to flight. Thus armed I am not afraid to walk in any street that he can name. I am at a loaf's to understand why your correspondent shouW ulttress me alone: Can he have so little =pain unee:with this borough and neighborhood to iuppose that one can be just singled out to beer his lecture I He must be singularly misinformed as to the progress of the so-called temperance cause, if he is thus mistaken.— Young men are not so ready to give up their liberties as he may suppose. Reason, I trust, we ,shall always be gill to bear: but vituperation and caricature we cannot treat with much respect. Very truly yours, [For the Bradford Reporter.] The Fourth of July. The gloriouiTatarth, when liberty threw off her swad dling clottd sprung a Hercules from the cradle of , existence in this new world, and proclaimed in thunder tones, to the despots upon an hundred thrones, in the i old, that here, the tree of liberty should flourish , and its heavenly fruits gladden her nonspr ever.—The day, the , occasion, always carries my mind back amid the dread scenes of the revolution, when foeman met foeman, steel I, steel upon the battle field, and unprotected innocence net her fate from the gory tomahawk of the red man. I leave the battle-field - , to linger a few moments, around the continental congress! Men of iron nerve are . there; rues who fell the responsibility of the awful trust committed to their charge—no noise, no impetuous out break of feeling, bat the deep dread calm, which proceeds the bursting forth of rivers of fire from some mighty vol cano, which are destined to overwhelm countries, and rock kingdom's to their centres. .110 w changed the scene! The demagogue occupies the place of the sage-- -and revelry and mirth, that of fear and trembling. The, days that tried men's souls have passed away—the gib meatsrolled in blood " are no more, and the millions are now enjoying the boon such scenes have bequeathed them. M. A. G. SPRINGFIELD, Pa. IFrom the Democratic Review.] The Boy and his Angel. lip SI:JW44! '' Oh, mother, I've been with an angel to-day ! I was out all alone, in the forest at play, Chasing after the butterflies, watching the bees ; - And hearing the woodpecker tapping the trees ; Sa I played, and I played, till, so weary I grew, 1 sat down to rest in the shade of a yew, While the birds sang so sweetly highup on its top, 1 held my breath, mother, for fear they would stop ! Thus a long while I sat, looking up the sky, And watching the clouds that went Many by, When I heard a'voice calling just over my head, That sounded as if' come, oh brother!' it said; And there, right up over the top of the tree, Oh mother, an angel was beck'ning to me ! i •'And'brother!' once more, ' come, oh brother!' he cried! And Reason light pinions close down by my side! And mother, oh, never was being so bright As the one which then beamed on my wondering sight ; His fact was as fair as that delicate shell, . His hair down his shoulders. in•long ringlets fell. While the eyes testing on me, so melting with love, Ware as soft and as mild as the eyes of a dove ! Aed renthow dear mother I felt not afraid, As he Meld es my brow he•mreaaingly laid, An d lildsPeed Be softly And gently to me, Come, brother, the angels are waiting for thee !' Atd then on my forehead he tenderly pressed duds itisies,- o h mother, they thrilled thro' my breast, As swiftly as lightning leaps down from on high, When the chariot of God rolls along the black sky! While his breath, floating round me, as soft as the breeze Thst played round me and rustled the trees ; At int on ty bead a deep blessing he poured, Then plumed his bright pinions and upward he soared ! And up, up he went, through the blue sky, so far, He seemed to float there like a glittering star, Set still my eyes followed his radiant flight, Tin, lon from the num, he passed from my sight! Theo,Oh, how I feared, as I caught the last gleam Of his nnishing form, it was only a dream ! When soft voices whispered once more from the trees Tome, brother, the angels are waiting for thee!" • • Oh pile gre w th a t =other, and heavy her beast, " Far she knew her fair boy from this world most depart ! Thu his bright locks moat fade in the dust of the tomb, Ere the autumn wind withered the summer's rich bloom! O h , how his young footsteps she watched day by' day, As his delicate form wasted slowly away, Tin the soft light of heaven seemed shed o'er Lls fare, And he crept up to die in her loving embrace ! "Oh chap me, deer mother; close, odor, to your breast, ,fln that gentle pillow vain let me flit I Let toe once more gaze op to that dear loving eye, . And then, oh, methinks. can wildiegly die Now his s Emotes, mother ! oh quickly f for see 'The bright, blessed angels= `waiting floe me !' r o h, wild w 8.5 the anguish that swept then' ter bread, . • . ~ •,"1 ;•.,: •;':,.: ' i L.' % -, 14. • , : ... i., ; ,',...., J . , ?,;;".! :?-.. ,i...;,,, .--:.•,,,:',-- -..11 L", ,, 1 IT,;."I .1 :; ; !:',.,..'.;.' ','.., '' ••',.., -. , 5.S ',..". t....,; , .. fr .; ,s 4 ~.. •;„ ~ .1,.., -e , . •.!;i1; 7 1:; : ii1.1 i ' ASS 1U 1 - i. TA 0 . 1. I ' "i'. " .i . :', , 41..:,.4... , - , .07: 1,,,,,, - , - ;.,“ 1,1 ,9,. , .._} t .., , r'''..l i.::6 ,‘...``` ii -- - -- ; - ,0.7 ..,, ;..0., ..., ;1. 1,, , ,;-;7,,i ! ..,..C; ...,..;,....- ~.. --- ..—.- _ . .. . . , . . . . . . . . . . . ' , . .. . . ? . . . . . ... . . ' : .e. ; '...; , %r .f,L.li , - •..., - •:. $ -. .. . . F .• . ....... _ ui.‘,.. .. „,,.:....,...., -J.' _...... . . . .. . . . .. .. . .. . , As the long, frantic kiss on his pale lips she pressed ! And felt the vain search of his soft, pleading eye. As it strove to meet he?sr ere the fair boy could die, "I'llee you not; mother, for darkness and night ' Are hiding your dear loving face from my sight,— But I hear your low sobbings—dear mother, good-bye! The angels are ready to bear me on high! I will wait for you there,—but oh, tarry not long, Least grief at yciur absence should sadden my song!" He teased, and his bands meekly clasped on his breast, While his sweet face sank down on his pillow of rest, Then, closing his eyes now all rayless and dim, Went up with the angels that waited for him ! [Correspondence of the Washington Union.) PHILADELPIIIi, Aug. 27, 1845. Meeting the other day, in this city with some friends from . the interior of the State, who had been brought here to aid in the elec tion of officers and in the organization of the North Branch Canal ,Company, I have been i led to some reflections upon the internal im provements of Pennsylvania, and their impor tance in a national point of view. I may fairly claim, en passant, that this Slate is entitled to the credit of being a leader in the great march of public improvement which has taken place in this country ; for more than eighty years since, while a mere province of the crown of England, were the first movements made to introduce the system within her borders. It is an interesting his torical fact, not generally known, that applica tion was made to the provincial legislature of Pennsylvania for authority to open a commu nication, by water, between the Schuylkill and Susquehanna rivers, and a survey made of the route as early as the year 1762. In 1791, the I I Schuylkill and Susquehanna," now known as the triton " canal," was commenced. and one of the western sections completed and opened for navigation in 1794. There are numerous enactments to be found, showing that our legislators were awake to the impor tance of the subject of internal improvement prior to the year 1800. David Rittenhouse, the Pennsylvania " farmer boy," and practical mechanic of riper years, who learned to read Newton's " Principle " in what he termed his I" idle hours," and who was as justly entitled to the credit of discovering the method of fluxions as either Newton or Leibnitz,—David Rittenhouse assisted in surveying a none very nearl the same .1, that occupied me pre ' s , •llt lEnirrJ7:ll.( lilt. between NilladcliAlla and ' Pittsburg, He reported •• the whole distance of a navigation by water between the two places to be 420 miles, and a portage of eigh teen miles at Conemaugh." This excellent man and eminent philosopher died as early as 1796. JrTEYI& It was not, boa ever, until the 4th day of July, 1.826—a fit day to commence so glorious an enterprise—that our State entered upon what is commonly termed our present system of internal improvements ; which, for extent, magnitude, and utility. will stand. when com pleted, wholly unrivalled in moilerd times.— Between six and seven hundred miles of these canals, and nearly two hundred miles of rail way, have already been finished and opened by the State ! In this estimate I include none of the numerous works of companies and indi viduals: But she found hersell,itnto or three years since. unable to go on with the exten sive projects she had undertaken. They had been so located as to penetrate all those por tions of the commoncralth, which, from their known fertility. or great mineral wealth, seem ed to require such aid in the development of their resources ; and thus.many (by some it is tho't too many) lines were commenced at once. When the State was obliged to suspend. mea sures were immediately taken for carrying out the unfinished works; by invoking individual enterprise and capital. The Erie Extension canal, connected with the Beaver Division, unites the Ohio river, at the town of Bearer. with Lake Erie, at the ex cellent harbor of Erie; in. a distance of 135 miles. That portion called the Beaver Divis ion (thirty miles) had been completed by the State, and a comparatively small amount of work remained unfinished on the Erie Eaten ' 'ion. This was taken hold of by some enter l i - prising capitalists, and the whole line is now in profitable operation. The Wiconisco feed er, also unfinished, has been undertaken by a company, who, like those engaged in the Erie Improvement, will no doubt reap a rich reward for their expenditure. This feeder is twelve miles in length, and unites the Lykens Valley railroad, trout the coal region. with the Penn sylvania canal at Duncan 's island, on the Sus qttehanna. Still more recently, the unfinished portion of the line on the North Branch of the St.;quehatina has become the object of in dividual enterprise, and will open. in point of mineral wealth, one of the richest regions of the State—ay. I had almost said, of the world. •And it is not more rich in mineral wealth than in its hardy, industrious, and sterling democra cy. Of this last enterprise, and its great pub lic utility. I had intended inore particularly to speak when I embarked on the subject of canals in this letter. An inspection of the map will show the Tide-water canal, commencing at Havre de Grace, on the Chesapeake bay, and ending at Columbia, on the Susquehanna river—a dis tance of forty-five miles. Here it connects with the central division' of the Pennsylvania canal, which continues up the river to Dun can's island. . At this place it branches off, up the Juniata,-to Pittsburg, in one direction, and ascends the valley of the Susquehanna in an other. - The latter is the route we are a pre sent considering. It is completed up the North. Branch of the Susquehanna to Pittston, eight miles above Wilkesbarre. in the beauti ful and classic vale of Wyoming. From Pittston to the northern boundary line of Penn- sylvania. it is more than two-thirds finished—, almost three millions of, dollars having .been expended upon the works : this distance is ninety &ilea. 't'hence optticChemurig river to Elmira, New York, is some fifteen miles further, • also unfinished. At Elmira, is the Chemung canal, constructed by .the State of New York, running (o the &Linable. The PUBLISHED EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD. COUNTY, PA., BY , E., S. GOODRICH ,i3c :SON. ". kid ABOLO.Bi OF DENUNCtATIOfi V.SY *FR." lake itself is then navigated about forty miles, and connected from near Geiaeva with that great work of De Win Clinton, the Erie canal, at Montezuma. So that, it will be perceived, when the section.between,Pittston and Elmira shall be finished, there will be, thromgh the heart of the two great States of Pennsylvania and New. York, a completed uninterrupted line of internal navigation between Chesapeake bay and Lake Erie, Lake Ontario, Lake Chore Plain, and their tributaries; or.• as I ;night ;say, between the Chesapeake and the whole Western teorld I . „ Now, as exhibiting a most striking view of the rapid progress our country is making , in the race-of general prosperity, let us trace again ; ,the line of internal improvements I have point- , ed out, and mark. in detail, its numerous con-, nexions, and the immense space over, which. they spread, like arteries in the human frame. diffusing life. and energy., throughuut • a great and prosperous country. • . . From Havre de Grace, on the bay, up the valley of the Susquehanna. to the northern boundary line. of Pennsylvania, is some three hundred -miles. - From this to Lake Erie, through the Seneca lake and the Erie canal'. is two hundred and sixty miles more—making, in round numbers, a line of communication be tween Chesapeake : - ay and Lake Erie, five hundred and sixty miles in length I Intersect ing and lateral to this line, on our way north ward from the bay, we have, first, at Colum bia. the railway to Philadelphia, eighty-one miles in length. 'ben, at-Middletown, we find the Union canal connected with the Schuylkill river at Reading, eighty-two miles. From Reading, the Schuylkill navigation, ex tending some sixty miles further, makes the line complete from the Susquehanna river to Philadelphia. To resume our route : From Middletown. up the valley of the Susquehanna, we Next have, at Harrisburg, the railway through a part of the fine old county of Lancas ter. to the city of Lancaster, thirty-five miles. Crossing to the other side of the Susquehanna from Harrjsburg, is the Cumberland Valley railway (partly finished) to Chambersburg, fifty miles. Still upward, at Duncan's island, , is the line extending up the Juniata. and acrossl the Alleghany to Pittsburg, two hundred ai,d • fifty-eight miles. At Northumberland diverges, the West Branch canal, running almost to the , ' geographical more ot the State, seventy-three • miles. A t W ilkesharre we meet with the' . works of the Lehigh Navigation Company, which. crossing the Dela%% are river at Easton, unite with the newly improved Morris canal, and make the chat() perfect from Wilkesbarre. on the North Branch of the Susquehanna. to the city of New York, one hundred and nine ty-four miles. At Towanda, Bradford county, a railway some twenty miles in length pene trates a rich bituminous coalfield, with eaten-' sive beds of iron ore intermingled, like those at Pittsburg. At the State line, near Athens, crossing the line Of navigation we have been pursuing, is the New York and Erie railway, four hundred and forty-six miles. This point is about eget-distant between the two extremi ties of that great work—Dunkirk, on Lake Erie, and Tappan bay, on Hudson river. At Elmira there is a connexion, by canal and rail way. with the bituminous coalfields of Tioga county, - Pennsylvania, fifty miles. From El mira. our route proceeds by the Chemung ca nal, (which should be enlarged to accommo date the immense trade that will crowd through it when the remainder of the line is completed) to the Seneca lake, twenty-three milesr This deep, narrow lake, stretches some forty miles thi - ough a beautiful country, precisely in the requisite direction ; and boats are easily trans ported upon it to its outlet at Geneva ; thence, partly through this outlet, and partly through an artificial route. (which is also connected with Cayuga lake.) to Montezuma, on the Erie canal. From Montezuma to Albany is two hundred and five miles—to Buffalo, one hundred and fifty-nine miles. These two distances make up the whole line of the Erie canal, connecting Lake Eriemnd the Hudson ; and may also be embraced in the lateral and minute survey we are taking. Between Albany • and Buffalo (not overlooking the fact that Albany is united to Boston by an excellent line of railways) we first meet, nine miles from Albany, on our way northward, the Champlain canal, extending to Whitehall. on Lake Champlain, seventy-six miles. Then at Rome, the Black Ricer canal unites with the Erie--running eighty-six miles into the northern interior of New York. At Syracuse. the Oswego canal diverges to Lake Ontario. thirty-six miles. Passing Montezu ma, the point where the route to Chesapeake hay unites with the Erie canal—we next, at Rochester, tinil the Genessee Valley canal, extending to Olean point, on the Allegheny ri ver, one hundred and twenty-two miles. W hen we arrive at Lake Erie, the almost endless na vigation of the treat northern lakes is before us. We can reach the ocean through the Golf of St. Lawrence, or proceed inland to the Gulf of Mexico ! W here, in all the wide world beside, can such an exhibition be 'found 1 Where, a coun try so interlaced with such an extent of artifi cial internal navigation: I Then consider the commercial, agriculture), and political improve ment in the social Condition of the-people, which mtist inevitably follow such privileges! Anthill these are bet ' part of the public im provements of two Slates of the American re public, whose national existence bears date within the last century"! Many of the eiirtous, growling, foreign tourists,descrihe us as a vain glorious people:. if success intoxicates; sure ly•iye'may:bp:pattloried a feW airs in witness ing the rapid . advancctitir tonsity has Mide iii all 'the elemente'pf wealth 'and inducements In prosperity. ' ' • ' • • I fiiiieleiferellied so tub' on'ihis subject, that 1 hesitate arminwhiai - going hiCk ,to de tails again, in 'retard, to this North' Branch ea; iml4the startingteint Tfie State nf Penusitriniegiikto pant, who have utidertaken'thitilork,' nom* fifteen - indes br canal already finished and operation, from the 'month ef tilortien b ri Mech . to Pittston. Tel this is added thelittiainitti portion of the line (ninety miles) two thirds finished—.over two and a-half. millions of,dol lan having been expended tiptin it. ,An ex clusive right to the.valley of the Susquehanna for canal,or railway,.purposes, is another part of their extensive , privileges.. The legislature reserved, the right to resume the work, at , the end of forty years, on paying the company at the rate of seven per cent. interest per annum, together with the principal expended in com pleting it. - Being a link in the great chain of internal navigation I haveattempted to describe. and the -only one which is unfinished—leading also through some. of the finest anthracite and bituthinouccoal regions in the world. directly to .a populous and thriving country where fuel is scarce, and .yearly becoming more so—it can ; hardly be otherwise than a profitable in vestment of capital. as-well as a most valuable public improvement. As a Pennsylvania de mocrat, I should have much preferred that the work bad been completed by the State. if she had the means. rather than it sbould have fallen into the , hands of a corporation ; although 1 have long been persuaded that corporate privi leges for the purpose of creating a public high way. was :the least objectionable form the spirit of monopoly could assume—if. indeed, such a creation can be called a monopoly, in any proper sense of the term. ,AFrom the L adies ' National Magazine for Aug.] -The Young Rebel: _ • A 'TALE OF THE CAROLINAS. BY 1. MILTON SANDERS In a small farm house, towrrds the close of the year 1780, sat an old man, his wife and only son. The face of the father appeared troubled : at times ha looked thoughtfully on the floor, and then he would gaze long and wistfully at hisson, a fine manly youth of twen ty. At length he said, •• David, this is disastrous news front Camden, God knows what-will become of the country now,! Congress needs every arm that is capa ble—alt me. I wish-this old wound I got in the French war had not lamed toe—but for it, I should he now shouldering my musket and marching to defend my •country." Bath the son and wife looked. up at these words. The old lady ceased knitting and ga zed enquiringly at her boy, and it was evident. from the expression of her face. that patriotism and motherly affection were at variance in her bosom. The son, however, after encountering his father's for a moment, turned confusedly away. The old man's brow darkened, and he said warmly. •' David, David, why do you linger about the village when your country needs your ser vices so much ?—why, son, I am ashamed of you! Twice before this have I spoken to you upon this subject. but you appear to have no spirit! What! will you see us trampled upon by the brutal mercenaries of Britian, and still lie here supinely ? Fur shame David, fur shame! I will not call you my son. Long since you ought to have been, in the army !" •• Joshua, Joshua," interposed the old moth er, " David is but a youth ; then do not speak to him so harshly. tie cannot yet feel what , you feel, who have fought so often against our country's enemies—Joshua, he is but a boy." •• A boy, indeed, Deborah ! such boys as David have already gained imperishable laurels since the war commenced. I could name r host of them !—why, were it not fur the boys of this land where would be our army, which. I dare say, is one quarter composed of boys of David's age.'? The old man was excited, and it was the first unkind word that he had ever used to his boy. David arose and left the house. Ile walked Some distance apparently in deep thought. . •• %V hat will not women do?" heat last mut tered—" here I have been lingering about the village when I should have been off long ago. And for what I—why to meet a pretty girl. and to ,listen to her musical voice ; but now I will be myself again!—what did he call me ? was it not corciard ? Now by heavens, I will learn him, that lie has a son who possesses the spir it of his father. Away then with love, for I feel that tam called up to act, and no longer dream Ere a fortnight.my father shall hear of me, or else 1 lose my life striving for it." And with this resolution he turned about and retraced his steps. • .'hen he reached home he sought the sta ble, saddled his horse, and mounting bim. struck into a gallop, which continued for sev eral miles. - At length he stopped and looked up at the windoWs of a farm-house, half hid between clustering trees, This was the resi dence of Mary .Bunker„. the mistress of his heart, the lights showed that the family had not retired, and he resolved to pay her a visit before his departure. She was alone when' he entered. and a few words acquainted her whli his determination. She burst into tears. " Nay ! Mary," lie said. " you must not un- • man me. At first I resolved to leave you with out a farewell, : for I knew how much you dreaded my. taking an active part in thts stru,g gle. But I could pot be so cruel, as to desert you withouta word," ".1 will compose myself." said the fair girl. with an effort to smile- " I know I have been wrong to persuade you to stay : but you can not imagine the anxieties 1 suffer on account of.my brothers, and I could not bear to have you too encounter their tenger. But since this dreadful defeat at Camden I feel that ev ery man is, wanted by, our country . Goo*. dearest, and Gud be witli you. ,My prayers shill attend YoU. night and dip- ,I:Dayid.Preased the now weeping girl to his nosieliedaliasty kiss at the sound of ap proaching fooleMps, wrung herhatitf.'stid was gonp.... The next day he left the' neighborhoOd Of pis father's house, mired with a musket and Stogy 11is.destination was 01 1 1 3 '06i camp; then far to thittiotih= Vitt tie, the intervening •couniri-was fill;- itttriikllie'enemy.lus 'knew there would be' address tittaitell• io eteet,bis fur: pose. Defoe his departure he sa*a I feri? of his old playmates, who Promised to follow him as soon as possible. ' ' • Night found Win near a s.hlitely fiarm-hootik to which he proceeded boldly in pursuit of al lodging. At - first the- occupant • received him coldly, but la chance expression consin- Cing David that his host was a tory; he effectt ed the Caine political creed, and was irnmedi, ately warmly welcomed,. The royaliskprodu-: ced his eider after supper, nd insisted that-Da yid should join him bolds potations g this .the young manilid, taking care, however, not to indulge too freely,, while the farnfesf, ed to 'kd what he supposed a new recruit' frir his party. drank wtthout stint arid becinie more and more communicative.. To his horror, Di vid soon learned that a' riarly of• loyalists, led by a Major Wilson,•celebrated for his torYism . and ruthlessness, were to start early the ensu ing day on an expedition to seize and hang the two Bunkers, who had-made themselves par ticularly obnoxious to the royalist leaders.. Da vid, knew enough ofthis-partizawwarfare iti be assured, that no mercy would be shown to his friends ; he also knew enough of the character of the major to suspect that some strong per sonal motive had led to the planning of so dis tant an expedition, when there were others as ' in viting nearer home. He accordingly set himself to discover from his 'half inebriated companion ilin'truth. Nor was it long before success crowned his adroit cross-examination. Why, you see." said the host. " I believe there's a little revenge for a slight received from-these fellows' sister: mixed up with the major's desire to catch the Bunkers. The girl is very pretty, they say. and the major. when she was down here on a visit last year—be: fore the war—wanted to marry her, but she would have nothing to say to him. Ever since. he has avowed to make her rue the day. You may depend upon it that lie will have her on his own terms now—thank .Heaven ! there's no law any , longer to prevent any honest loyal ist from doing as he pleases to those rascally rebels. But yonder is the major now." sud denly said hie hust, starting up, "-I will intro duce you to him at once—a merry fellow you'll find him. Lord love you he's as brave as a two." David though horrified at the diabolical plot Le had heard. saw the necessity o f dis sembling in (triter to learn further of the tories' plans, and find means. if possible, to circum vent them. He arose, therefore. and shook the Major's hand' warmly, pledged him imme diately in a brimmer ; and soon contrived to make the royalist believe that he was aniious to join a troop and take part against the rebels. This induced the major to be unusually civil, for he wished to secure so athletic - a recruit himself. It was not long before a bargain had been concluded between the two—David refu sed to sign the agreement that night. he pre tended that several other of his friends were disaffected and desirous of joining ;the loyal. ists ; and his object, he.said was to secure a commission for himself by inducing them to to join. This tempting bait took ; the major promised him a command an his troop, in case of success, and David signified his intention of setting forth, after he had taken a few hours rest, in order to lose no time in gatherink to gether his recruits. The dread of discovery had been constantly before our hero during the management of this negotiation, for his person was well known to many of the major's troop, and if any of them had come up, his feigned name would not ; have protected him from detection. He wished to get off that night as he had proposed ; but to this neither his host nor the major -would hear and he was forced to hear, on rising, that the . . . major had been gene some hours, and was al- ready on his way to the Bunkers,. with his troops Dissembling his anxiety. David par took of a hasty breakfast, and mounting his horse, rode slowly away. But when out of sight of the house he struck into a fierce. gallop, which he continued till he cam; in sight of • a cross road where was a tavern. Here he stopped and learnin g that the royalists had taken the high road, be turned aside into a narrow and more circuitous one.. •• It is my only chance to avoid them," hi said, again dashing into a gallop. - . Pray God, I may .reach the settlement in tune to collect a few of our lads and macch to the Bunkers. There is no other hope now . Night had fallen, as they expected, before the tories were able to reach • the vicinity of the house they were in scotch of. At length, how ever. after a silent march through the woods, it broke upon their their view.' . A light was burn ing in one of the windows,, and when they arri ved close 'to the premises, lively notes of a, violin reached their ears, proving that the bitith ,- were not aware of their presence, but enjoy -ng themselves in imagined, security. • "Now men," whispered' the leader of the 'to ries, " when I give the word, fire a volley at the, house by Way of introducir ourselves: we will then suriofind the place awl enter it.", • At that instant the deep ibay of a ,dot in their ears, and u.large in: l istilf sprang from un der the house and rushed I r the major. " Fire !" he Fried. .; . 'Twenty guns broke upoilikeit } illness alike niebt—the dog fell—every , pane f glass in the front of the house was shiv'eieit'iritt the lodes yelled like savages. In an. instant the light in the house was extinguished , --the violin.as quick. Iv ceased. and a noise was I heard at ,the door.: the 'cries immediately ma de a rush at it., But it was already barred. and b i tang made of strung, oak, plank, resisted all the tir efforts. A title cracked from one of the upper windows, andl one of the tortes fen desperately wounded. A re n other port succeeded and .another tory fell, and Major %V liven was now fully aware. that afOtil I Burtherii were at home anti wide, awake,: A. shed, tamed the rain from d i re front : oldie house, and underneath tins, the dories, shielding them selves from the fire of the' Hunkers, went to work at ttie defer. •Sitspect!itigvertich:.resistanee' .a.-ptehrips, from his: knowleldgmcf.their oeltartm-, ter—one of the men had br i ottglifan .sixfpletth, which he commenced lienit - g at the door, and Seam cut it to pieced,' Tretleti' deSpenito battle ensued.' The;two Vieottiera wain riotietfol Men.' and as courageous as the. wete,strongl*.and El =I MI now with, clUbs and rifles- they; ,disptztedffie r t a trance or the Whole tory force. The door being small they st mil their ground-fo t itakau hour, feeling during that lime -some. of ,thestr i wbe, had temerity to enter firat,,het finally numbers overcame them, and they . were fi eng upon the floor and bound.;.Thp,toriea. inflamed . talmati• ness at the great resistance whiah — had been made, and at their ownlosses, pow seized the candler . and slater, and ;nimfe ..p3eparations ,to • hang the tivi brothers befure eye.. The 'ropes were a'ready lied around ..the necks of the. victims, wheedle major addressed,his-rmnt .• Now, friende, as soon ae these villains are dead, we will set fire , to,.the house—dm - old woman there ," he, laid:: With a -brutal; laugh, .• may be left inside:—bitilth'e. young Ame--I re serve for myself."_. . 1 Hist" crieil . Mie'efthitheiviri a loud voice: The major ceased, and , tbey heard isvoice -ant: side the house. Although die •words were spo-- ken Inw, the listeners , distinctly beard; when .1 say . fire.. give it_tn, - A man with a.blanched . 'cht:elt..,izow„rnshed among - Mein, excleaiming ? — • ~ The "yard ie frill of men t" • • • ..• 1 . Fire ! ' cried asleep voice 'from the yard= a general volley succeeded, and lid 'lathe aim been directed in the door:. that se'aeral Of the tories fell, either dead or desperately wounded. In turn the tories retreated up stairs, when ill .vid our hero rushed into the room which they had. ust left, and cut the ropes which bound the Bunkers and their mother and sister. May, God Almighty bless you for this !" cried one of the Bunkers. . The two men sprang,up,. seized. their rifles which had been left in the room, and . prepared to retaliate the trea:ment which they hadlystre entre(); ' Long and desperate was the battle. . The to. vies fought for life ; the whigs'for revenge. But at length the latter triumphet.'though not until their enemies • had been almost, exterminated. The, major fell by: the arm of our hero who sought hint out in the hottest of the fight, and engaged him single handed. • No language of ours can express The einotiotut of David as hepressed his . betrothed, bride to ,his bosom ; his heart went up in thankful ness to Heaven for hie timely arrival, when he thought that a delay of half an hour longer would have consigned her to a fate worse than death. 'l'he gratitude of her brothers were expressed 'hi many words, but lier's was ii lentand tearful, yet oh ! how much niore grati fying: .• I almost called you a coward, son David," said his father to him, when they met. "but you are a chip of the old block, lona - --1 did wrong, Dehotalt, he is a boy to be proud of—is he not? You may founder one of my horses every day you do such a,tleed---it beats anything 1 ever saw in the old french war:: , , David's gallantry In this act drew around him, in a few weeks, more than a score of hardy young followers, who fought with him to the close of the last war, *halt he returned and was happily married to the heroine of our story. low to Treat a Wl:e. It is not every husband who kno,we how, to treat a wife.. The following adinirable lesson on the subject should . be carefully read end treasured in the'memory of every husband, and of every one who contemplites emitting that relation. If rightly improved, it may serve to avert many of the troubles of life.—change the clouds to sunshine, and render its whole course - smooth and placid. We know not the , origin of the article ; but that it is a good-one—an excellent one, we are quite sure. First. get, a wife. Secondly, be patient.— , You may h are great irials and perplexities in your business with the world but do not therefore carry to your home a clouded or con tracted brow. Your wife may have had trials. which, though of less magnitude, may have been as hard to bear. ' Do not increase her difficulties. A kind conciliating word, a ten der look, will do wonders in chasing from bet brow all clouds of gloom. You encounter Your difficulties in - the open air, fanned- by • heaven'scool breezes ; hut your wife is often shut in from these healthful influences. and her health fails, and her spirits lose their elev. icily. But oh! hearwith her f. ehe has trial' and sorrows to which you ate a stranger.. bin which your tenderness can deprive of all their anguish,• Notice kindly her little attentions and efforts to promote your comfort. Do not take them all as a matter of course, and pass - them by, at the same titne being- very sure to observe any omission of 'what you may con. sider her dety'in you.' DO not treat her with indifference, if you would not sear and palsy her heart, which. watered by kindness; would, to the latest day of your existiuce, throb with sincere and constant affection. c• Somelimes yield your wishes to hem. '•She has•:preferenres as strong as you. and it may be just as trying to her to yield her cheie as to you. Do you find It hard to yield,..ome lbws? Think you it is not difficult for het to give up alscpwa? . you•never yield to het wishes. there is:danger, that.she will think you are seltfeli, ind rare , only for yourself., and with such feelings She cannel love you as she might: Ag'a~ti: ° show ynunielf manly. so that your ! wife' eanfsiok and tert'tliat you that she esn'eotifide In ,your jUdgment 7 ". iIiNTS FOE haCtiELOALS:r•AIIeIIIIOIIIS.'IO a IR- Ay whose society is, sought a.genileman. are justly iindeesitiutt niatrititonv.. ,11 the pet:Mix:4 titre_ lartnight,,abinit he nicans.,not origi. wiling with him.. .ir they are tins; oidahle, of :iMught and occiisinricil by the lody, herself, the, kind ;Mention nl'a OcnileinirOnnif he '.ascribed to mere ciinetesy . .:: WfiCO takila au - Sei tine and rimer puffin thelnittet, when he visite. entitle, Willi's, and, ;114'014 "all: wheri lie'^ailorts ,and - dieri i lhere"s 'tiff-Mistake': lie to pop'the'question, , ts or get away. ll -: . ...rairitty. ,„ , Piiiolis6o—rjeiniiij.wliriAja member of glinjr.eatt,T i '" • • - K theintief 'oreenitti , is is `a roranion sub-' siantiie;ogreeing tvith self intertsf, and in gov 6tned.b3loght ikillais a dni-onderotood.'' Ell ' EZI2.IMII Lea
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