^rQ_4i.o ~~~J~~a~fiJ~s EDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 17. 1847 [Far the Bradford - Reporttr4 The Earth. 1:1= I've oft imagined Earth's enormous form, As that of some unique and living thing; Her breath, the sweeping and portentous storm; Her smile. the gemal -radiance of spring; per blush. the summer; mild look, autumn brown, Atid deriding winter—her terrific frown. - neep-toned volcanoes, but the different tongues, In ss .h,d, speaks - to - neighboring orbs of dame: A common ettlirt of her mighty lungs EmlNasltes, the slight convulsions of her frame; Ironand ma.vive rock, her bMies, and reins, And wandering rivers 7 but her gushing veins. ner robe, the grass, with snowy flowers entwined, At' buttoned by the mountains vast, and lone; the broad belt with n hich her waist's confined, bhwirroz verdure of the torrid zone, • Bev:rid cridh diamond drops of radiant dew, {.,,1 the brand ocean—but her mantle blue. ,lie: `react. the region of perennial snow; net's. the arctic circle, Vright and 'fair; Her kilo . ; the extreme, am! dazzling polar glow; The Aurora Borealis—butiher hair— and pompous Mono after fame, As merely Mae : • rawly • . o'er her frame. :`PRI,LFI FLO. Pa. [From the New York OhserTer.] etures On the Antiquities. of Egypt. • BT MR. GLiDl3O7.li. • Nr3II2IER I. 'chic I:owlet - ruin, is well known to the Amer an alir Cu .5111 for several ear in and a fin_ has earnestly devoted a great art. 1 his life, and with distinguished success, 30 cx . hionailon of the wonderful antiquities .iintry, delivered the first of his coarse z . tt vo , i , phatire with the NOW 'York lii.itoriral Soriety. in ,'l.ime4 II city, on Nlonday t-vett la•t. Mr. G:nition ha. just returned from with a wa•tt amount of Infor ,,rt. , ! , •rtt.,l front recent explorations and riot learned and successful in. .tr•l ;!, o p— nt his Lecture, Mr: Gliddon to IN former lerturee, and to the fart If 1.n% 1110 re-:Wiled a tenth edition, afford- nintritt-tz ,vidence of an increasing, public ,u,,t in Evptian Antiquities, and to his ,T rt :..tatt-d in the Pro.peetus.) recent a..!, io oht3in from the Savans of Europe. Intalu.ule r-sults of their recent examina an I disenveries. Ihe information so =II under the hieroglyphic's 'of Egypt v,ti ;low dearly revealed. _ Those hierogl y ph the year IS4 were tra?slated, and it was .!,. powsr of any intelligent man with the of the Dictionary and Grammar of Cham iii•ei, and die works of De acv and Rock :• read these characters in words and seri and understand them. If a lanzuage .cti•-•1 from amid the crumblimAuins of Tem - 7,1 Monuments, from a Papyrus-torn and ii•••••i. and coeval wutiethe tunics of Abraham limes, a lattomago from the land Of .Prle3t- .aalccts might not be perfectly clear, it we I not know what was said in every word, we 1')l:• to know what in such cases was not L Egypt the land of darkness was r lon- Ll irk.. That long calumniated and ahus:iti -o ; d e , who; notwithstanding, their present de :-Irracy and depres-ion, have sent the' signs imprrQsions of their wisdom and greatness --Tir-Art 5000 centuries and the Western Ocean. now know, as they once were by their hie • vphirs and Illonumenv—we see their la nd manuscripts' explained and by pictures made so iafelliaible.lhat there tie no rational possibility of doubt as to r •Igniirati.m. We can read the names-of and Dynasties. know their Gods. • tit , M, and by what such Telll - , irre yr, vied. All of unportanre in re the (undies of the Kings is revealed ; ilie Priesthood are made known. ' l "rr, •od the ferieturer, pointinE,t to two-mum ,. hri• two 0r0.,q6, their namis written upon was a priest of Osiris, the of .Ain unit. Udell. the eminent Eitgli';thflieroloftist. with the whole Pharaonic fano ti hit h will he found the names of the el the Grand Admiral, and of the !tolls in the nut,. of Joseph. and representaticf's now, prevented to and d twig [ick 3.000 yei,iri before e disc o ver t he scenes and occupations ' Itfe arming the Egy pions ; we see • , t1 ceremonies ; t ou have their songs anthem with winch thev offered the ids, and the dirge which sad. :N.: coat pan that consigned the body to You behold the mechanic employ e,: hi: work, the warrior, the smith, the rei•cila. the painter, even the veterinary sur ;,e, and barber, and the youth changing his • meat and sharing in preparation for compa• see'some engaged in raising a Colas ethers making brick like the Hebrew And among these monuments, and in ; 4 ' 14 4. all the various utensils and ornaments ezm, even the inkstand, jewelry, smelling bot i*"• a nd dolls for the play of infancy, are . 471 ' among them. Every variety, almost, of / ;.t•its found in the tombs of Egypt Pqme" tutates, nuts, beans, pease, barley, have been in these tombs, retaining their, vegetable e mblematic of the resurrection of those by t r)ta they were once planted. Even the vaned duck, or the beef—exists and attests to Occidentals, across the oceans of Time arid the Atlantic, that the ancients of Egypt in common with us the appetites and a:s of humanity, We find in many; the .4tt of those who slumber in these- final rtaarditions there produced with scientific art, as abs welcome us ; and on the side..of the or sareophag,us are represented in" hiero THE I RADFORD REPORTER glyphics the travels of the soul, not only the life present. but the wanderings and perils of that which is to come and thus primeval Egypt stands, in 1846, revealed to us in her hieroglyphics, her pictures with explanations beneath, her sculpture, and heti. various wonder ful and illustrative memorials. If in any case we do not clearly understand the hieroglyph ics, we can know the event to which they re fer—the Deity to whom prayers were address. ed—the king who reigned—and thus ascertain what the hieroglyphics do not say, if not what they precisely express. And are these things of no interest to modern enlightenment and civilization ? Let the premature graves of Champollion and others whose lives have been sacrificed in these, discoVeries—let the vast sums expended by France in the publication of their great works answer. Cast your eyes on the inscription. , , pass your hand through the leaves of this Dictionary (Champollion's,) con sider the labor and science at this Moment en gaged among the learned of Europe in reveal'. ing the wonders of this ancient and remarkable people, before you pronounce these things to he of no value. Who could examine the monu ments and writings left by this wonderful peo ple without sensibility—a people contempora ry with Moses and A'waham. in regard to whom such remarkable events are recorded in the Scriptures.—who can look upon their re mains and ruins without various and thrilling emotions. So -h is the country to which 'twen ty-three years of mt, life have been devoted.— With modern Egypt I must be supposed to he well acquainted. But new light . has recently been thrown upon the chronology of Egypt. derived froin'three new elements, the .• Papy. rus of Turin." known as the hiStoric canon found in 1924 by Champollion. a' oong other Egyptian records in the museum of that city_ the sculpture on the .• Aticestra ! Hall of Car , nac." and the •• Tablet of Abydos." Mon sieur Prisse has with great difficulty and peril secured the .• Ancestrae Hall of Carnac." (a s-call chapel by the side of the Temple of Car. nac, nine feet long and twelve hi g h, and rover ed on al' sides with hieroglyphics of the an cient Egt ptian'kings,) and it now enriches one of the museums of Paris. The Papyrus of Turin has been decyphered by the labors of Lepsius, aided by Mr. Birch and the Chevalier Bunsen, and is now publish ed, containing a list of the Egyptian Kings !ruin the mystic age to the Ratnessides of the nineteenth dynasty, about, 14 or 1500 years before Christ. The length of each reign and dynast•: are given. It is shown by the learned Barruchi that from Nlenes there must have reigned over Egypt to the time of Cambyses 4500 Kings-119 befoi:e the Exodus of the Hebrews. And this dedUction-from the Canon, or Papyrus of Turin is confirmed by the Ao cestrial Hall of Carnac and by the Tablet of Ahydos and other meMbrials. Lepsius has found 400 Cartouches or emblems or signs for Kings. ,On the Tablet of Abvdos there is a great hiatus of several centuries about the time of the shepherd kings, but this is well nigh sup plied Roof the Hall of Carnac and other re-; cord:. Chevalier Bunsen, whose science as well as eminent yirtues. Mr. Gliddon paid a warm tri= bute, and whose work is not yet published in English, has divided Egyptian History into three grand periods: the OLD. MIDDLE and NEW. The first embraces 1,070 years. the first twelve dynasties of Minetho and during this age. were all the Pyramids and Labyrinth constructed.— The second includes the time of the Hykabos or Shepherd Kings, and the events mentioned in the Scriptural History and the term-of 930 years. The third extended from Aames the Founder of the 18th Theban Dynasty to Cam bases 11 l years. Add to the advent Christ 525 years, and you have the age of Menes placed before our Saviour 3.643 years. It was admitted. differs from the ordinary chro nology. but Mr. Glidtion expressed the opin ion. that since so great di.mrepancies exist al ready in what is termed Biblical Chronologies. the recent discoveries present rams which al fortis a general element such as has not hither. to been known for (:dtronologicat inquiries and rah-Minims. Indeed we might reasonably conclude that chronology was no more tanght i n t h e B i bl e t h an geology—and that the former should he deemed wgeneral science to compre hend the records of all nations before it can at lain to accuracy. Some writers carry back the time of Menes still farther—Mr. Henry 01 Parts in 5.393 years. before Christ, and Bockh of Berlin to 5.702-698 years before our as stoned date. for the et ration. Mr. Glidtlon trusted that many difficult matters in chronolo gy would beAully explained in a great forth coming work by Venel of Geneva, and in the mein nine the audience were referred to a re cent puhlication—an essay on Primeval Hist°. tory by the Rev..). Kenrick of-London. In t'ie commencement of his second Lecture. Mr. Gliddon :illuded to the vast and varied avenues, which through the efforts of the learn ed of Europe, were opening to the new light recently thrown upon antiquity and by mean. of which, a prospective way might be opened to the Historian of the progress o; Nations.— For the first time in this city, he had now the honor of presenting the new elements of Egyp tian Archeology—the great and recent disco veries by which we had become acquainted with the writings and thoughts of the Ancient Egyptians. The interpretation of the inscrip tions on the Rosetta stone constituted the start ing point of hieroglyphical discovery. This stone, which was dtscovered by a French offi cer in 1799 and which by the fortunes of war, on the capture of the " Egyptienne," a French vessel, in the harbor of Alexandria in 1802. fell into the hands of the English, and was de posited in the British Museum, was incompara bly the moat important mOnoment of - Antiquity —it afforded the moat important Text that ever fell into the hands of the Disciple of Ancient Egyptian Learning. It was.a piece of Basalt about three feet long and two feet five inches broad, mutilated at the top and one side, and bearing three inscriptions—the first, the an cient hieroglyphic—the second, the enchorial or demotic or popular Egyptian, and the third, PUBLISHIID EVERY WEDNESDAY, AT TOWANDA, BRADFORD COUNTY, P : ~ BY E. S. GOODRICH & SON. IMEMMEI " REOARDLESS OF DENUNCIATION FROM ANY QUARTER." the ancient Greek. It is an edict promulgated on the coronation of Ptolemy Epiphanes which occurred at Memphis 196 years B. C. Mr. Glidden proceeded to explain how through the. instrumentality of the Rosetta atone, we had in the course of twenty years, come to a know ledge of.all the ancient writings and inscrip tions of Egypt. By the labors of Professor Porson and Dr. Heyne. the Greek inscription was first translated. In the 5311 and 54th lines of this inscription it was found ordered " that the present decree shall be engraved on a stela what modifications of opinion on Egyptian in quiries have been introduced by the labors of Lepsius, Bunsen, Birch. and others; among whom I .must specially mention Maurice Swartz, who has just published the first half of the first volume of his great work on ancient Egypt, some idea of the extent of which in , y be derived from the fact that the part published contains 2182 quarto pages, a monument of research and learning at which the builder of the great pyramid might lift his astonished head. The few Egyptian words preserved by Greek writers derive explanation from hiero glyphical research. Aristides (A. D. 120) mentions the difficulty of marking in Greek the Egyptian pronunciation of the name of the god Canopus, because the sound turned round as it were in a circle. But the roots of this word are Cahi. country. and Noub, gold. The name of the god was Nubei, golden. and the city (the now lost Canopus at the mouth of the Nile) was called after him Cala Noub. This explains the word Chub. :ix. 5, which an swers to Cahi Noub. or Golden City. It is a question of interest whether we have any documents or inscriptions as far back as the reign of Menes, . the founder of the first Egyptian dynasty. The only instances in which his name occurs are in the hieroglyphics on the Ramessium, and in the hieratic charac ters on the papyrus of Turin, on a gold neck lace and ear-rings belonging to Dr. Abbott, of Cairo, and on a sarcophagus and scaribmus in of hard stone, in sacred character, (i. e. hiero glyphical) in writing of the country (i. e. en chorial or demotic) and in Greek letters. It was found that groups of characters in the De motic and Hieroglyphical inscriptions corre• sponded in their number to the oft repeated name Ptol:my in the Greek, and these charac ters in hieroglyphics were enclosed by an oval line, which it is now well understood, always circumscribes the name of a King. The cen tral character of this oval (which contained eight characters) (and called by Champollion a cartouche) is a recumbent Lioness, called by the Egyptians Labodi, which Dr. Young first suggested was used phonetically answering to the letter L and that the three preceding char acters must be P T 0 and the (our succeeding ones M E I S. thus discovering the Phonetic value of the signs and supplying the key to great eubsequer.t discoveries. In 1822 and 1824 Chainpollion more fully developed and more clearly demonstrated that if the language of hieroglyphics teas originally entirely pictorial or ideographic. it became. in order to represent foreign objects or names phonetic or made a sign to represent a sound. We learn from Clement of Alexandria that in 196 A. D., pictorial signs were used so that Greek could be translated in hieroglyyhical characters—that is they caught die sounds of the Greek and gave a pictorial representation of these sounds. In all hieroglyphics the reading is in the direction towards which the head of the animals introduced, The Egyptian hieroglyphics were found sculptured on monuments—also in what was termed the plain style, cut as intaglios, or writ. ten on manuscript—and in a third form called Linear, in use prior to the 18th dynasty. The Hieratic or sacredotal character was introduc ed at the commencement of that dynasty, and the Demotic or enchorial was found in use some 700 years before the Christian era. In deed. it is reckoned, that some 3000 years elapsed after the existence of the Linear mode before it was merged in the sacredotal. After explaining with some particularity and minute ness the hieroglyphic method of writing, the learned Lecturer observed, that the Coptic tongue, in which the Christian Liturgies of Egypt were written, was derived from the languages of various nations. (Arabs, Greeks, Lybians, Persians, Romans.) and shed but a very partial light upon the ancient hieroglvpi cal writtngs. Many of its current words were imposed upon a partial foundation of the an cient sacred tongue spoken when the hiero glyphics were invented. This sacred tongue was not in popular use during the Pharaonic dominion, but preserved by the Priests. In this ancient sacred tongue, and the hieratic, derived from it, all the hieroglyphics are writ ten. The few roots of this most ancier.t lan guage of Egyklike those of the Arabic and Hebrew, it was suggested were resolvable into Sana'crit. The craniological researches of Dr. Morton confirm the opinion of the Asiatic ori gin of the Ancient Egyptians and in the ancient language of Egypt (which appears to have consisted of not. more than 500 roots,) 400 may be traced to Asia. And what is curious is, that these were expressed by 15 articula tions, the same with the original alphabetic sounds of the Greek and Hebrew. Philology and History go together. The antique genealogy of words sheds light upon the very cradle and consecrates the history of nations. The History of Languages is in an important sense the History of Nations—mark ing their homes, their families, and leaving on the quicksands,of their varying changes some indications and impressions of their character and progress. Who that has thus followed out the early philology and the earliest indi cations of language has not observed the net work which is thrown over them where histo ry is silent, where Time has crumbled the most of monuments to the dust; and who does not feel that his only guide in these ob scure regions must be comparative philology and ethnography ? During the last four years. the cabinet of Clot Bei ; the four latter being of uncertain origin. Contemporaneous morn 'pent. commence with the 3d dynasty, 250 years later than Menes. At this period (3400 years, according to Bunsen. before Christ) the alphabet of fifteen characters was used. and we infer that writing was known in the time of Menes. In the fourth dynasty we find the sign of the reed and the inkstan d, and this was before the time Of Abraham. Near the conclusion of his lecture. Mr. Gild don paid a very just tribute to Ls:pains, (whom he left a few months ago.) who after exploring . Egypt. and penetrating Africa as far as the 13th parallel of north latitude, has returned to Ber lin with 1300 magnificent drawings, and innu merable vketches, :besides 500 papyri and two ship loads of sculptured specimens and other memorials and rely!' sof antiquity: He has ac ted under the patkinage of the King of Prussia, and in examining and arranging these treasures, and in publishing his works, lie has the labors of a life before him. Allusion was also made to the arrow-Beaded inscriptions on the ancient Persian monuments. the decyphering of the names of Darius and Artaxerxes—of Cyrus and Nahuchadonozar.antid the ruins of Nineveh and Babylon—of the Queen of Sheba, on monuments in Southern Arabia; and to the Biblical discoveries of Land and the Cartha ginian resuscitations of De Saulcq, and the Chinese vindicatiens of the distinguished Pau- Mier. Even the Tomb of Alexander the Great had been discovered at Alexandria—that city, memorable as founded by Alexander. visited by (:sear, and taken in our day by Napoleon. THE ORIGIN OF prtzems—A FABLE.—When Prometheus had animated his plastic image with a spark of heavenly fire, and funned a man, Jupiter was displeased and said . , •• This man of thine shall die daily. arid be one-half his life-time before thee, without sense or thought, till he depart forever." And, when evening came.•the new-created mortal bowed down Lis heat) and sank to sleep. But once the muses, Jupiter's gentle daughters. four.d him slumbering, arid gazed on the closed eves of the lifeless on.• with love and compassion. Poor being said the- ; •• lovely and youthful as Apollo ! Must Ire, then, vvhetiev er he seeks rest, thus bid farewell to earth and heaven, and lie shrouded in the dark night of the shades?" tt Let us," said Calliope, the boldest of the sisters, tt pierce his darkness, and present loin gifts. and give him a more beautiful earth and glonpsea of Olympus, till our stern lather al lows kiln to enjoy again the light of day." Then the goddesses who grace Olympus touched the sleeping mortal—the ; sublime muse of Poeiry with her trump, the deity of Music woh her flute. Thalia with her magic wand. Urania with ter globe, Erato with love's dart, even Melpomene with her dagger, and the others. Ola sudden the dead corpse warm ed into life, for the God of Dreams came and created around him a new heaven and a new earth, and gave them to him ; bold and grace ftil shapes played around him, and he rose and stood among them ; fruits changed to buds, and buds to hlossoms, yet continued fruits. atAl the youth itself grew. younger ; the earth losefier steadfastness. and the innuntain-tops boti z ri to the breeze of sunset ; a ruse-thorn, in the shape of Melpomene's dagger. grazed 100 breast and the blood-drops were changed into roses, white or red ; the sighs of a flute inspired even hap piness with tinging desire, and breathed from distant skies into his inmost heart. The slum bering mortal smiled and wept in rapture.— Then Apollo waked him with his rays, least the mortal should look on the itnmortals. A FEAT.—Not long mince, some half dozen of the Congoes brought here in the Pons." while engaged in clearing away brush on a farm on Bushrod Island, started an enormous snake. As if apprised of the Congo predelic non for spake meat, his snakeship went off at full speed for the covert of his house, but the Congoes, as determined to have him.as he was to get away, raised a deafening veil and started in chase. The snake run in (Ice direction of the house, in the vicinity of which there wait a large bug-a-bug hill, which had been lung aban don,tl by its builders. The snake reached this mound and had succeeded in getting one half its length in a hole in its side. when one of the Congoes, to whose feet hunger and hope and a desire for a delicious repast had given wings, reached the place. Quick as lightning the Congo seized him by the tail. and a severe struggle and trial of strength ensued, the snake trying with all his might to pull his person in, and the Congo trying with all his might to pull the snakes person out.- They were pretty nearly balanced, and the struggle would have lasted some time,had not a cutlass been brought to the contest. The snake was despatched, and, when measured, was found to be fourteen feet long. It was of the boa species. The mound which lie attempted to enter was after wards dug down, and was found to contain one hundred and fifty snake's eggs, measuring one bushel and a half. They were without doubt, the eggs of the snake which was killed. We need not, say it was. a high, day for the Congoes. It was indeed to them.," feast of fat things. FATHER'S CARE FOR HIS SON.--Beatlliful and becoming in the eyes of the, paternal God is the unwearied attachments of the parent to his child ! Alas ! how little does the unthinking spirit of youth know of the extent of its devo tedness. There sits the forward. fretful and indolent boy. The care that keeps perpetual watch over his moral and physical safety. he misnames unjust restriction. The foresight that denies itself many s comfort to provide for his future wants, he denounces as a sordid avarice. He turns from his father's face in coldness or in anger. Boy ! boy ! the cloud upon that toil worn brow has been placed there by anxiety, not for self, but for an impa. tient. peevish son, whose pillow he would gladly strew with roses, though thorns should thicken round his own. Even at the moment when his arm is raised to inflict chastisement on thy folly, thou shouldstifi;d and bless thy parent. The heart loathe hand that cor rects thy errors ; and not worlds would he use the rod of reproof, did he not perceive the necessity of crushing his own feeling, to savb thee from thyself. The Death of Duroe, BY T. J. HEADLEY. Napoleon's greatest misfortune, that which wounded him deepest, was the death of his friend Duroc. As he made slain effort to break the enemy's ranks, and rode again to the ad vanced posts to direct the movements of his army, one of'his escorts was suddenly struck dealJ by his side. Turning to Duroc. he said. " Duroc, late is determined to have one of us to-day." Soon after, as he was riding with hie suite in a rapid trot •along the road, a can non ball smote a tree beside hint, and glancing struck Gen. Kirgener dead, and tore out the entrails of Duroc. Napoleon was ahead at the time, and his suite four abreast, behind him.— The cloud of dust their rapid movements raised around them. prevented him from knowing at first who was struck. But when it was told that Kirgener was killed and Duroc wounded. he dismounted and gazed long and sternly on the battery from which the shot had been fired ; then turned towards the cottage into whicb the wounded marshal had been carried. Duroc was grand marshal of the palace and a bosom friend of the Emperor. Of a noble and generous character, of unshaken integrity and patriotism, and firm as steel in the hour of danger, he was beloved by all who knew him. There wall a gentleness about him arrepurity of feelingithe life of a ramp could never de stroy. Napoleon loved him—for through all the changes of his tumultuous life, he had ever found his affection and truth the same—and it was with an anzigus heart and-sail countenance he entered the InVely 'cottage where he lay.— His eyes were titled with tears as he-asked if there was hope. Mien told that there was none, he advanced to the bedside tvithout say ing a word. The dying marshal seized him by the hand aid said, Mv. whole life has been consecrated to your service, and now my only regret is. that I ran no longer be useful to you." Duroc!" replied Napoleon, with a voice choked with grief, "there is another life—there you tvill await me. and we shall meet (wain." •• Yes. sir," replied the faint ing sufferer... but thirty years shall pass - away, when t ou %till have triumphed over your enes mies, and realized all the hopes of our coun try. I have endeavored to he an honest man I have nothing with which to reproach myself." Be then added, with faltering voire, I have a daughter—your 3kesty will be alai* to her." Napoleon grasped his right hand, and sitting down by the bedside, and leaning his head on his left hand. remamed with closed eyes a quarter of an hour in profound silence. Duiroc first - spoke. Seeing how deeply Bona parte was moved, he exclaimed, .Rh! sire, leave me; this spectacle pains you." The stricken Emperor rose: and leaning on the arms of Eis equery arid M rshal Sault• he left the apartment, saying in heart-breaking tones as he went, "Farewell then myfriend!" The hot pursuit he had directed a moment before was forgotten—victories, trophies, pri soners-and all, sunk into utter worthlessness, and as at the battle of Aspern, when Lannes was brought to him mortally wounded, he for got even his army, and the great interests at stake. He ordered his tent to he pitched near the cottage in whirl) his friend was dying, and entering it, passed the night all alone in Incon solable grief. The Imperial Guard formed their protecting squares, as usual, around him, and the fierce tumult of battle gave way to one of the most touching scenes in history. Twi light was deepening over the field, and the heavy tread of the ranks going to bivouacs, the low rumbling of artillery wagon t i ff the distance, and all the subdued, yet confused sounds of a mighty host about sinking to repose, rose on the evening air, imparting still greater solem nity to the hour. Napoleon, with his great coat wrapped about him, his elbows on his knees, and his forehead resting on his hands. sat apart, from all, buried in the profoundest melancholy. His most intimate friends dare not approach him, and his favorite officers stood fit groups at a distance, gazing anxious ly on - that silent tent. But immense conse quences' were hangirg on the movements of the next -morning—a powerful enemy was near, with their array yet unbroken—and they at length ventured- to approach and ask for or ders. But the broken-hearted chieftain only shook his head; exclaiming, Everything to ravel !" and still kept his mournful attitude. Oh. how overwhelming was the grief that could so master that stern heart 2 The mag nificent spectacle of the day that had passed, the glorious victory lie had won, were remem bered no more. and he saw on'y his dying friend befole him. No sobs escaped him, but silent and motionless he sat, his pallid face buried in his hands, and his noble heart wrung with agony. Darkness drew her curtain over the scene, and the stars Caine out one after an other upon the sky, and, at length the Inman rose above the hills, bathing in her soft beams the tented host, while the flames from burning villages in the dist.dice, shed a lurid light through the gloom—and all was 'sad. mourn ful. yet sublime. There was a dark cottage, with the sentinels at the door, in which Duroc lay dying, and there, ton, was the solitary tent of-Napoleon, and within the bowed form of the Emperor. Around it, at a distance, stood the squares of the old Guard, and nearer by, a silent group of Chieftains. and over all. lay the moonlight. Thoge brave soldiers filled with grief Mace their beloved chief borne down with such sorrow, stood for a long time silent and tearful. At length to break the mournful si lence, and to express the sympa:hy they might not speak, the bands struck up a requiem , for the dying marshal. The melancholy strains arose and fell in prolonged echoes over the field, and swept in softened cadences on the ear of the fainting warrior—but still Napoleon moved not. They then changed the measure to a triumphant strain, and the thrilling trum pets breathed forth the most joyful notes. till the heavens rung with the melody. Such bursts of music had welcomed Napoleon 84 he returned flushed with victory, till his eyes kindled in exultation ; but now they fell on a dull and listless ear. It ceased, anal again the mournlul requiem tilled all thg air. But no tion. could arouse him from his aermilaroz re flections—los friend lay dying'. and the heart h•• loved more than his life, was throbbing its last pulsations. •• What a theme for a painter, and what a' eultny on Napoleon was that scene. That no ble heart, which-the enmity of the wnrhl could not shake—nor the terrors of a battle-field move from its calm repose—nor even the hatred anti insults of hts, as last victorious, enemies hum ble—here sunk irr the moment of victory be fore the tole of affection. What military chieftain ever mourned thus on the field of viciorv, and what soldiers ever loved a leader ?".. Womes:.—Woinen are better than men.--- What sacrifices are they not capable of mak ing; how onvelfish are they in their affections ; how abiding is their love ! They enchant us by their beauty, and charm us by their conver sation. They add grace and a softer coloring to fife, and assist us to bear with Its asperities. In our youth they are our instructors, in sor row our comforters : in sickness the sweet be guilers of our misery. Whatever, is rough in us they refine. Whatever of ruggedness there is in our nature they polish or remove. They are the only divinities on'earth. Alas. that so many of them are fallen d vinitiPs. But who is it that makes them so Who is it that takes advantaoe of their weakness, when that week ne-s should be their best claim to protection Let hint answer who abuses them. • Among the various beautiful traits of their beautiful naittres, , ,,lrtt of maternal love should be noticed win peculiar admiration. I have heard of women hatars, and ant told that such a class of beings do exist. But surely they who hold the sex lightly, and who are • accus tomed to speak to them in toetriff' of reproach, ran never have been spectators of the watchful tenderness, the anxious solicitude, displayed in a thousand tosching incidents, of a mother for a Holt]. They ran never have witnessed the self sac rificing devotion to her offspring, her patient and even cheerful performance of the many fa borintis othres of educational training, or their tongues would falter in the utterance of one word of detraction. Clinsou oy ScexE.—lt is too common art opittiou that change of scene is the best resto rative of an unhappy mind. With some tern perarnents it may succeed, hut surely not with all ; and yet, how universally is the remedy suggested for rlmost every species of mental ailment. nothwithstanding it being so seldom productive of the effects attributed to it. What lasting, amelioration or our condition can be ra tionally expected from yielding to what is but the mere impulse of the niornent—a sensation of restlessness, arising from desire to escape from ourselves and our own thoughts, which is mistaken fur an aversion to the places and objects that have been the unconscious witnes ses of our sufferings. From whatever source our uncomfortable feeling.; may arise, they would, perhaps, he alleviated or subdued, by a little firmness or determination on our part and this, if we chose, could be easily summon ed to our aid at home. instead of setting out on our travels to seek for consolation we know not where. And to the really unhappy, alas ! to imagine that a deep and heart-felt grief can 'either be eradicated, or even assuaged, by change of place or scene, is but to mock a sor- I row. the intensity of which we are incapableof comprehending. SACREDNESS OF TEARS. --There is a sacred ness in tears. They are not the mark of weak . - nese. but of power. They speak more elo quently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers ofoverwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love. Oh ! speak not harsh of the stricken one—weeping in silence I Dr ak not the deep solemnity by rude laughter, or intrusive footsteps. Scoff not if the stern heart of manhood is sometimes melted to tears of sympathy—they are what help tmelevate him above the brute: I love to see tears of affection. They are painful tokens, but awful pleasure ! If there were none on earth to shed a tear for me. I should be loth to live ; and if no one might weep over my grave,. I could never diein peace.—Dr. Johnson. ELnQVENT EXTRACT.—The light of the lamp was dying away in the socket. the midnight clock swung heavily aloft, and its brazen tones sounded loudly on the frozen air. It was the hour. disembodied spirits walk. and when mur derers, like the stealthy wolfe, prowl for their prey. The lonely watcher shuddered as he heard a slight noise at the door. Big drops stood on his pale brow—the door opened gen e.y, and in came—a strange cat. CHARITY.-A 'clergyman addressed hie peo ple a few Sabbaths since as follows :—'• lsaid to you, my dear hearer!, on the day whin we last lifted a collection, that philanthropy was the love of our species. From the amount ob tained, at that time, 1 fear. that you understood One to say SPECIE. I,trust your contributions Of te•dev will serve to show that you are no longer laboring, under that mistake." . . - A Conntryman took-tits seat at a hotel table opposite a gentleman who was indulging in a bottle of wine. Supposing the wine to be common property, our unsophisticated country friend helped himself to It, with the other geu tletnan's glass. " That's cool !" exclaimed the owner of the wine. incli2nantly. Yes," reptcif the ether, ••I should think there was ice in it '•' FUNNY Tumns.—A 1103 E. so sharp that it cuts acquaintance. A stocking so coarsely knit that tho ankles protrude. Pantaloons so large that they are taken for shirts. Meneo wise that the wisdom of Solomon is foolishness to them. AMmovous.—•• Your honor warrrigl.t and I was wrong, as your honor is very apt to be.'.' said a distinguished counsellor in Court the tub er day to the presiding judge. arL'Alar.~•M' Loa,
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