ttffi3a1
MY mtOTIIEIt'S GHAVK.
Beneath tho chancel's hallow'd etbne,
Exposed to every rustic treat,
To fow, save rustic mourners, known,
My brother, is thy lowly bed.
Few words, upon the rough Stone graven,
Thy name thy birth thy youth declare
Thy innocence thy hopes of Hcavon
In eimplcst phrass recorded 'there.
No 'scutcheons shine, no banners wave,
In mockery o'er my Brother's Grave.
No sound of human toil or strife
To death's lono dwrlling speaks of life,
Nor breaks tho silenco still and deep
Where thou, beneath thy burial stone,
Art laid in that unstartlcd sleep
The living eye hu h never knovni.
The lonely sexton's footstep falls
In dismal echoes on the "walls,
As, slowly -pacing through the aisle,
Ho sweeps th' unholy dust away,
And cobwebs, which must not defile
Those windows on tho Sabbath day;
And, passing through tho central nave,
Treads lightly en tuy Brother's Grave.
But when the sweet toned Sabbath chime,
Pouting its music on the breeze,
Proclaim the well known holy timo
Of prayer, and thanks, and bended knees;
When rustic crowds devoutly meet,
And lips and hearts to God are given,
And souls enjoy oblivion sweet
Of earthly ills, in thoughts of Heaven
What voico of calm nnd solemn tono
Is heard ubove the burial 6tonct
What form in priestly meek array
Bcsido the altar kneels to pray"
What holy hands are lifted up
To bless the tarramcntal cupl
Full well I know that reverend form,
And if a voice should reach tho dead,
Those tones would reach thee, though the worm,
My brother, makes thy breast his bed;
That Sire, who thy existence gave,
Now stands beside thy lowly Grave.
THE THREE SPIRITS.
BY O. SLOANE, ESQ..
My uncle was a prodigious story-teller
" I don't mean that he indulged in a pro
nensitv to fibbinir but like the Sultana of
t 9 Vrf
tho "Arabian Nights," his brain was a re
servoir of talcs that seemed perfectly incx
hausliblc. Judging of his forehead by
craniofogical rules, I could not fancy them
to be his invention and yet how else could
he come by them? to the best ofniy
Isnowlctlge he never read any thing but
"Carey's Book of Roads," for he was a
prodigious traveller. But whencesoever
the tales came, he was in great requisition
with us, who formed tho younger part of
Ms establishment, particularly in the long
winter evenings. Like the Sultana alicady
TiHtided to, ho was sure to find aDinarzade
at his elbow, to jog his memory when it
happened to slumber.
Suppose us all seated round the Christ
mas fire; tho wood blazes, the hearth is
"clean swept, and the servant retires witl
the things. In a great arm-chair sits my
aunt, half-dozing over her knitting; on the
opposite ide is my uncle, his little bright
eyes twinkling with good humor and pene
tration; and around is a formidable array of
us, his seven nephews and neiccs, a hand
some legacy, as he used to say, from his
deceased brother,
According to his usual wont at this part
of the evening, the pipe was in my uncle's
mouth; this, as it was a custom, I Was' nev
er disposed to find fault with; but; when,
as on the present occasion, he indulged in
a second pipe, I must honestly own it en
croached not a little on my patience. But
there was no help for it; to all our cntroa
ties, not to say grumblings, was a laugh of
these little bright eyes, and a "puff! puff!"
till he fairly puffed out pipe the second
'And now." said mv uncle, "1 am
ready for you. I'll tell you a true story
as true as if it were in print and it hap
pencil lo myself."
Tell! tell! tell!" cried the seven
ojngcr voices in chorus.-
"Will! will! will!" responded my tin
"To. And thus he began
"t was travelling to Southampton by
the mail, The ground was co'veTcd with
arrow, trie whul blew a hurricane, and the
night was so intonsely cold,- that when the
coach slopped at Alton, where they allow
cd a few niinutos' space for rcfreshmout,
mv lmibs were almost frozen. You may
c sily suppose I was glad to find myself
(Wore a good fire, and a well-spread table.
Yet there was noVmuch to- bn'ast of in the
tr,'rn either; it was a low, old-fashioned
pl.ce, with n'woll-saiidod floor, and in ono
cirner was that horror of horrors, to my
fancya Dutch clock. I don't know why,
I at Inevor could abide thfc compbtmd of
brass and wood and the prosont fellow
waa particularly disagreeable to mo, Above
tho dial-plate was a littlo figure of a Sara
cen, with huge goggling eyes, that rolled
to and fio by the action of tho watch-work
EES
within"; 'what's worse, he squinted' most a-
bominabl. For all that, I ditl'nt neglect
my supper; on the contrary, I was busily
; employed discussing a vecond tumbler of
hot brandy and water, when tho guard came
in with his usual 'Ready, sir.'
'Directly," saidj, filling up a third gob
let.
"The horn sounded 'Ta-ra-ra!'
"Confound it,' said I, 'tho brandy is so
hot.'
"Ta-ra-ra,' said tho horn again.
"You may wait,' said I, rather waspish-
ly, as a man who was loath to leave good
liquor.
Another flourish of the detestable horn.
'The clatter of horses' feet on tho hard
ground followed, and tho waiter bustling
in, somewhat superflously informed mc
that the coach had gone. I never boie a
disappointment better in mv life. "With
out a single remark which, indeed, would
have been useless I ordered a bowl of
punch to be brought in, and fresh wood to
be heaped upon the fire. i hero was noth
ing left for it, but to make myself comforta
ble and comfortable I was, never more so
in my life, except for tho ticking of that
horrible Dutchman, .and the squinting of
the little rrogglc-cyed Saracen.
'I wish the fellow who made it was at
the devil,' quoth I.
'Tick, tick, tick,' replied the Dutchman.
A death-watch couldn't have been half so
unplcaiant.
'Tick, tick, tick roll, roll; roll.'
'There was something ominous in the
sound; and as the wind howled about the
chimneys, and the hail pattorcdgainstthc
windows, I began to feel fir3t odd then
cold then alarmed: for the more I listened
the more singular was tho 'tick, tick,' of
the Dutchman. It was evident the clock
was talking to me, and I really thought I
began to understand his language. In the
midst of my terror a whimsical thought
came over me, and I couldn't help holding
up the punch-bowl to Mcinheer, and ex
claiming 'You must bo thirsty after so
much talking; suppose you drink"'
At this moment, there was a fierc; gust
of wind that seemed to shake the house to
its very foundation, and the spirit of the
clock for there certainly was a spirit in
it groaned heavily. 'Tick, tick, tick'-
and the Saracen rolled his eyes as if he were
mad. But the dead pause that followed
was still more awful, and the voice of tiie
clock in the silence sounded yet more sol
emnly. On a sudden the ticking ceased,
and the eyes stood still; a loud whizzing of
wheels followed, and in the next moment
the clock fell to tho ground and was shiver
ed to pieces like so much glass. Amidst
the shower of flying atoms up stalled three
strange heings, that like the beasts in the
imcalvn&c. set lancifaire atdctiancc. J he
fnsl waa a indefinable compound of the
eagle and the human being. The second
had the appearance of a man of gigantic
stature, with a lofty brow, upon which sat
ilntnrmination. while the muscles of his
chest and arms swelled with restless cnei-
bv. J no tuiru wore mc lunii oi v uuuo,
.... , r -r irH....n
p&cts have described her when sjie rose
from the foam of the sea.
"I am tho Past,' said, or rather scream
ed tho eagle figure, and his eyes glistened,
and his talons shot out from their covering,
ns if about to sloon and seize me. 'Iain
the Past; how hast thou used me?'
"I am tho PrtESKJiT,' said the second fig
ure, sternlv. 'Use me wisely, treat me
kindly, and thou shalt have no need to fear
the beak and talons of my brother. Look,
the world is full of briars; tako this axe,
and hew thysolf a way through them.
The' earth is stern and niggard; tako this
spade, and compel her bounty.'
"I am the Fimmn,' said tho third spirit,
in a tone so sweet and musical, that, while
I listened, all fear departed from me, and
the heart within me kindled. 'Follow me
continued tho beautiful spirit, 'and I will
lead you tc- the Islands of the Blest; sec,
how calmly the waters glide, feel how soft
ly the winds blow; follow me, poor crea
ture of clay, and bo happy,
And I did follow her who could havo
resisted tho fascination of that voice?
Strango to say, tho storm had passed off,
and a warm summer moon was glowinj
upon tho midnight waters. In tho ndxt
moment, wc wore in har litllo skiff, witir
tho light breeze filling our sails', and tho sea
sparkling about us. She stood at tho bows
chanting a melody of moro than mortal
sweetness; and as tho sound touched tho
waters, the dolphin? gathered around us as
of old at tho uritiu of Anon. I was tmut-
terably 'happy; the world with Its cold real
ities was nothing now to nic; I thought not
of it; I thought not of them; my wltolc'soul
was given up to tho syren whoso song,
whilo it relaxed tho muscles, filled my
heart with an unknown pleasure. Oh, that
this voyago could have ended but with lifo
itselP. but in tho midst of my languid en
joyment, the clouds gathered, the thunder
rolled, the waves rose, and the winds burst
from their caverns in tho distant north. It
was a fearful hurricane. At tho first threat
of the angry elements, tho beautiful spitit
spread her wings and vanished with a la
mentable cry. In the next moment I found
myself struggling with the furious billows,
which rising mountains high, flung mo on
tho point of a sharp rock, standing out like
a solitary light-house in the middle of the
pathless ocean. There I lay upon the crag
beaten by the winds and rain, and unable
to move a limb. Then came a fearful rush-
ing of winds, and the eagle spirit fell upon
mc with his cruel talons and struck his beak
into my side. I was, as Prometheus of
old, nailed to a rock, and condemned to be
tho everlasting prey of the bird of Jove. I
could not die; his thirst exhausted not the
current in my veins; his hunger still found
a liver to iceu upon. iigni went, auu mc
day came, but still it was the same and
again the stars rose, and still his claws
were in my flesh, and his beak was at my
heart. There was no respite none none
none. J lie moon grew out, anu again
young, as if she had renewed her youth
in the magic kettle of the Colchian witch
yet still I writhed upon mv rock. Tho
summer solstice biought its scorching sun,
the winter solstice, rainc on tho wings of
the tempest yet still I writhed upon my
rock. Comets passed away and returned
in their path of centuries yet still I writh
ed upon my rock. The earth itself grew
old, and brought forth shrubs instead of
oaks; the milk of her teeming bosom the
springs ami rivers that should have fed
the green leaf and the fruit, had dried up
yet f till I writhed upon my rock
At last the trumpet soUnded to call the
dead and the living before the throne of
judgment. At the first summons the ocean
shrunk back like a guilty thing, the planets
stood still, and the affrighted earth was mo
tinnlcss. At the second, tho grave yielded
up its dead, and in the air was a sound of
wailing and lamentation, and tho -shrieks
of millions who dreaded to meet the last ac
count. A third time the trumpet sounded
and whirr, whirr, whirr mv old friend
the Dutchman struck seven, and the Sara
cen squinted, as I thought, very significant'
ly upon me. The trumpet was the horn
of the early coach, which awoke me just
in time to resume my journey, that had
boon delayed by the punch'howl.
'Children never forget "The Thro
Spirits "
FORT FREELAND.
On the 28th July, 1779, James Watt, an
aged man, left Frecland's Fort about day
light to look for his sheep, and proceeded
but a short distance towards the cree
when an Indian named John Montour, who
was laying in ambush, suddenly sprang
upon him and attempted to drag him oft'
but Watt resisted and hallooed loudly for
assistance. The Indian felled him witl
his tomahawk and attempted to scalp him
and Was wounded in the back by a rifle ball
from the fort, when he fled. At the sam
time two young men who wero out ran in
I One stopped, just as he entered the gate
to look back, and was shot in the forehead
The other pulled him in and shut tho gate
Thus the attack commenced.
The yells of the savages wore now hear
in every direction, and tho Indians and re
fugcos to the number of 300, commanded
by Capt. John McDonald, made a general
attack upon tho fort. Tho efficient men in
tho fort did not exceed 25. After some fi
ring the British hoisted a white flag, an
terms of capitulation wero entered into
bout one o'clock; by which tho able bodied
mon, 22 in number, became prisoners of
war, and tho old infirm men, and women
and ehihlien, GO or (50, wero permitted to
inarch down to' the interior under tho pro
tection of a flag
After the surrender of the fort, on thosamc
day, a corqpany of 33 men, commande
by Capt. Campbolton, came up wilh tho in
tendon of assisting the defenders of tho fort
attacked the refugees and Indians, butwer
defeated with the loss of eleven men killed
among whom wero Captains Hawkins
Boone and Samuel Dougherty, continental
ofllccH. Capt, John Dougherty, Win.
Hood, rind Major McMahori,' crossed the
creek, and inqiiircdfof the women who were
prisoners, the number of tho enemy, and
were informed hundreds; when they imme
diately turned and made good their retreat.
This band was composed of as bravo men
as any country could boast, and tlioqo who
survived took an active pnrt'in the skirmish
es which followed during the remainder of
tho war. Many of their descendants reside
in this neighbourhood, and no doubt inherit
much of tho courage and lotc of liberty
liich distinguished their fathers in the
hour that tried men's souls.
The first night after the surrender of the
fort the prisoners were confined in an ash
house near Muncy. One of ihcin, a man
amcd HcnryGilfillan, hadtaltempted toe-
scape after the surrcndcr,nnd was on the
second floor of the building when Old Mon
tour came in and pointed his gun at him,
:is if about to shoot. He was followed by
Old Catrecn, who exclaimed to Gilfillan,
Ah! you debil, you tschot mc." Frightcn-
cd until his knees knocked together, ho re
plied, "No, I never shot any body." "You
lie, you debil; I got mv wrift cut by yon,"
and she waved her tomahawk' as" if about
to hurl it at his head. " I've a good mind
to scalp you," she continued, after looking
at him until she thought him freightcricd
suliiciently not to attempt running away a
gain. It is said that such was the fright
he received aUhis timd.'that for years he
could not divest himself of the idea that the
rustling of tho leaves as ho passed though
the woods was the noise of the tread of the
Indian in pursuit.
On the march one of the Montour's sc-
rcted himself behind a large tree, and as
Mr. Vincent,' Sr, one of the captives
came opposite, raised lus tomahawk and
gave the Iirdian yell, and then marched on
with an inward chuckle, as if pleased with
the alarm he occasioned.
Tho captives of which the late Bethuel
Vincent was one were taken through the
upper part of this state to the Tioga river,
thence into lho Gcnncssec country, from
there to Niagara, and from thence to Low
er Canada. The country through which
they passed was one vast wilderness, and
they did not sec awhile man's dwelling af
ter they left Lycoming creek until they arri
ved at Fort Niagara. A little beef without
salt roasted on the end of a slick, was their
chief article of food. They were treated
as well'as they had reason to expect, and
ntich better than many others in similar
situations. They remained prisoners m
Canada about three years.
On their return to this county they found
it very dilhcult to commence larmmg
Their houses, fences, and farming utensils
were all destroyed, and every thing prescn
ted a dreary as-pect. The settlement did
not flourish for two or three years, after
which it assumed a new face, and increase!1
in population very rapidly. North'briun.
RELIGION IN WOMAN.
How often have young men propounded
to themselves snd others the question, what
is the first quality to bo sought for in the
choice of a wife? and how diverse have
been tue answers to this most important
interrogatory! Tho gay and thoughtless
will point you to beauty, wealth, accom
plishments: others, who look beyond the
tinsel of tho exterior, regard amiability and
feeling as the brightest jewels of thefemal
character : others, who have searched dec
per into the springs of human action, and
know well the fountains whence flow tho
purest and most endearing happiness, will
give the only true answer to tho inquiry
viz: a strong christian faith, sentiments
and practice.
Religion is every where lovoly, but in
woman peculiarly so. It makes her but
little lower than tho angels. It purifies her
heart, elevates her feelings and sentiments
hallows her affections, sheds light on her
understanding, and imparts dignity and
pathos to her whole character. Nor does
its influence end here:
'It beams in tho glance of tho eye,
It sits on tho lip liko a smile,
It chocks tho ungracious reply,
It enraptures but cannot beguile."
Woman, from her very nature, is desli
nod to drink dcoporfrom the cup of sorrow
and suffering than the other sex. Her tri
als aro chiefly of lho heart and coiifeoqncnlly
tho hardest to bo borne. Sho is seldom
perhaps, able to contend with those form
dable evils and temptations which rouse al
the energies ofour nature to repel their at
tack, but is besot (from tho timo sho merges
into womanhood) by a thousand petty tri
als and annoyances, which, whilo'they seem
too insignificant to require much effort to
resist, are at the same time, most difficult to
i , i
overcome. Kcngion aione can iiisarm tncse
trials, and eilablo her to preserve that
equanimity and peace of mind so essential
to happiness. It is her talisman. To it
she flies in the hour of disappointment and
sorrow, and from it never fails to derive '
consolation and support. Yet how few in
their selection of a partner for life, regard
this most important qualification. How
few think to penetrate into tho secret cham
bers of the soul, to see what is there hidden
withi'i so fair an exterior; if there the ves- -tal
lamp sheds its clear and constant ray.
External attractions may lead us captive for
time, feeling may send a thrill of exquisite
joy through the heart of the recipient; tal
ent may call forth unbounded admiration ;
but if religion make no part of the charac
ter, the keystone to the arch h wanting,
and the fabric will ere long crumble and
fall.
It should bo remembered that life is not
all sunshine. Bright as tho world may be
before us, we canuotUvc long without en
countering many sorrows, and disappoint
ments, and troubles. They are sent by a
kind Providence to sever the cords which
bind us too closely to earth; to turn our
thoughts inward upon ourselves, and up
ward to Heaven. While our bark glides
calmly on a summer's sea; with the blue
sky above and bright waters around us these
blandishments may satisfy the heart but
let us be overtaken by the storm and the
tempesl, and where is tho support thoy
yield! Let darkness ruler your dwelling,
and the pleasure you derive from them is
forgotten, and you look in vain to the samo
source for relief Let death invade y.our
social circle, and lay his ruthless hand on
our fust born, shrouding all around you in
darkness and gloom, and where do you look
for a ray of hope? It is under circumstances
like these that religion transforms a wife'
into a ministering angel. She will bind
up your bleeding heart, lead you to the
fountain of living waters and change glo'bm
ml despondency into light and cheerfulness.
as the sun in setting, lights up every hill
top, and tree, and cottage, so religion gilds
with its heavenly beams every feeling, en
joyment, and occupation.
Most persons, on entering the married
state (particularly in youth,) fancy it a con
dition of unmingled joy and pleasure that
they arc within a charmed circle, the bounds
of which no sorrow or troubles can pass.
riioy forget the new and immense respon
sibilities that arc incurred and the trialrf
which must necessarily accompany them.
Not that these should deter any one from
taking this most important stop, for it is the
high road to improvement and happiness.
What aro the boasted pleasures of intel
lect compared with those of affection?
The latter are as truly heaven-born and
immortal, they aro the earliest developed
in our nature, and the last touched by the
finger of decay. Woman! thy empire is
tho hkart, and he who would know the
capacity of the human soul for happiness,
must yield himself to thy sway.
Tenderness of Conscience. The tender
conscience is like tho apple of a man's: eye
the least dust that gathors into it afi'-ns
it. There is no surer and belter way to
know whether our consciences are dead
and stupid, than to observe what impres
sion small sins (as thoy are improperly
named) make upon them: if wo aio not ve
ry careful to avoid all appearance of evil,
and to shun whatever looks liko sin, if wo
are not much troubled at tho vanity of our
thoughts and words, at tho rising up of sin
ful motives & desires in us, as we have been'
formerly, we may then conclude that our
hearts aro hardened, and our consciences
aro stupificd; for a tender conscience will'
no more allow of, what aro called email
sins than ofgrcat sins.
A quaint old author denounces oysters
as being ungodly, uncharitable and unpro
fitable meat; ungodly, because thoy arc ea
ten withontgraco; uncharitable because they
leave nothing but shell, and unprofitable
becauso they must swim in wine.
THE SLANDERER
His heart is gall his tonguo is fire
His soul tnobato for generous Ire,
HU swnid too keen for noble use;
His shield and buckler is aiilse.
Couplimbntaky. The common defini
tion of man is false, ho is not a reasoning
animal, tho best you can predict of him is,
that ho is an animal capable of reasoning.