^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,