Stair 44; tiattlettriatit ititststrt. VOL. 6--NO. 26.] PRIZE POEM. FROM TIIE GETTYSBURG WREATH THE DYING STUDENT. By Oliver Ormsby McClean. Gettysburg. "On! dearest Eugene, tape that lattice wide, And let this gloricus evening's sunlight glow On me once more, before toy tile's low title Shall on Tiint•'s strand r. river ct.ase to flow. There—that will do. Alt, lovely closing day— How mournfully your beams around me play! "I always lov'il to gaze arm the sun When sinking 'n.•aih you mountain,' to his rest, II: sets so peac:fully when he hash done His daily duty, and seems to be drest With holier radiance, more softly bright, Than when hr's clothed with norning,noontide light •`And e'en when I was but a sporting boy s I'd steal away up to the hill's steep brow, And watch with pleasure and enraptured joy, A scene like th!4l view so fondly now; I thought that Coil's own glory from it shone, Ai.d that the sun was his eternal throne. "And now, when I do feel dvath's chilling power, Cold, pres.tug on this let hl.• heart, Thankful I am, that tit nu.-1 a ratio hour I'm eall'd from tins mortaHy to part; Alp soul perhap. would loathe to take it 4 Amid the gloom :out darkovAs of the night. "Conn• hither, En;-tie—sit by my bed side, My best belov'tl, mine only-- faithrul friend, For like n brother thou did'st kindly chide Me for my errors, didst ass.istanee lend In trouble, and didst often me protect From consequences of mine on•n neglect "'Alt! how would I have fared in this sad world, Where sordid selfish interest sways roan's breast, And where malicious envy's darts are burl'd Against the innocent, and where ( - wrest The virtuous pine, had not in kindness hear 'n You for in) stay, support, defender giv'n. '•Oft had I earth's delusive dreams believed, And trusted their vain, empty, pompous show, Had not your own experience undeceived, And pityingly waro'd me not to throw My stake for happiness and peace of life, On things nought but deceit—with mis'ry rife. "And I do thank Thee-for this kindness, though I never could sufficient thanks iturn, I cannot show them, though I feel and know That mighty flames of gratitude stronz burn Upon my bosom's altar. where I bring Friendship's fair, pure, unsullied offering. --"And was it then for this, for this that I Vas born, and came amongst my fellow men, "To act with them this little while, then die! Just from the dust, so soon to dust again! What have I done? Alas! my few short years Have gone, and passed away in hopes and fears. "'I heard of something can't! "immortal fame," Which would man's memory from Lethe save— Of something, which would I obtain, my name WOuld not de'scend forgotten to the grave. With eagerness I ask'd for it; my sight Was pointed to*Scientia's dizzy height. "And then joined with those who came t' ascend The rugged steep; firmly I trod my way, With speed, tali - or below me I saw wend On toiling equn4 of former day; I vie w'd the enOrce, and the look inspired, And with freshl'ardor my ambition fired. •'So went I On, not thinking that the flame Of Mind which shone within one would consume And waste this tenement of clay, this frame, That the tire heated whilst it did Uutill vitality was sapp'd, strength sped, And le.alth with its attending blessings fled. "This body now confused, in ruin lies, And sense will soon desert this dreary head, The ice of death soon glaze these languid eyes, This tongue be still soon with the silent dead; What will it int'rest, how please me then Had I been best, the wisest among men? "What have I gain'd? What profit that the lore Of ancient, by-gone days is treasur'd here? That hidden wisdom of dark Grecia's shore Is brought to light. that Science bath made clear To me the movements of those worlds on high, That wheel their poturrous masses through the sky "Ah! what said I? Why whither do I stray? Bring here my Bible, Eugene—let we see What its divine and sacred pages say, 'Pertaining to man's immortality. Yes—trite—oh! thanks my Saviour be to thee— Thanks, praises, through a blest eternity. "Let this poor body perish, let the earth Receive its gross production—yea, let all These sickly members whence they took their birth Return, and pay the penance of the fall, Give them a dwelling in the low cold tomb, O'er which the thistle or the rose may bloom. "But I've a spirit, a ne'er dying soul, That needs not mark the hasty flight of time, Destin'd while everlasting ages roll T' exist and act in a far purer clime Than this foul region, where unclogg'd by sin, It will drink holy, heav'nly knowledge in. "And think'st thou not, Eugene, that in that land That better world, the spirit's native place, Its powers here open'il shall still more expand, That it shall run an ever- bright'ning race, Shall like the sun in dazzling splendor burn, Move on like it, but move not to return. "Oh! then, 'twat not in vain I liv'd, and made This tenement a martyr to the mind, Ilad I consented, Eugene, to degrade My better part, like of hers or mrinhir..?. 1110 •i?::4l,er'., • il,! 1. !I V I'd break “roogn tills weak "mortal coil," and on the wings Of angels bonkaway, departure take From these deMing, sublunary things, And speed me on away, far distant, far Beyond the confines of this dim, dull star. "My immortal part feels strong enough to stand And battle with the ghastly phantom, Death; But this frail body—was that his cold hand • • Upon my bosom? I V.haf so steals my breath? Thou know'st Fm chaiu'd; were but these fetters off, Base tyrant, I'd defy—would at thee scoff. "But I will triumph over thee, there's one Who combated with thee e'en in thy den, Who has through its Cimmerian terrors gone, Has stood unmov'd before thy horrid ken, Upon whose body even thou could'st not Place one corrupting or defiling spot. "Yes, my Redeemer, in My strength, I'll go Through his dark dmuains safe, secure; thy rod And staffshall comfort me, my faith I know Rests on th' unchanging promises of God; They shall like sunlight on the darkness beam, Shall on sepulchral midnightshed their gleam. "My Eugene, dear, I fetl I'm sinking fast; Come hold me up, and let this feeble glance Greet yon now paling orb, and let his last Expiring rays fall on this countenance. Sun, time of thy departure hash well met That in which my life's planet's doomed to set. "Gone down in death's chill night, it will no more, As thou to-morrow may'st, on life arise, Brighter than here it will ascend to soar, And move in Ilefiv'n's serene, unclouded skies. With purified, increased refulgence reign In the ascendant not to wane again. "Then farewell Sim—oh! F.Ytgene.friend, (idiot! My blood is freezing—there-- hum iced it roll'd Into my heart.' What hides rrufrom my tacit', My hand no longer feels you! 117 u d did fold Me 'gainst so closely!—Mother, dear! Sweet sister— Irhere —I conic—bright ones—oh! hear!" • Death! 14 it so! Hast thou, my brother, gone then from below! Dead' Phanks to C 'tin it'd an endless sleep— On! then, Horatio, for thee I'll not weep; Pll sorrow not as one who hath no hope, But faith like thine shall cheer and hold me lip Through life's remaieing journey, till I come To thee in thine eternal, heavenly Immo. There our immortal spirits, bricht Mid fair, Shall traverse vernal lands, inhale the air That angels breathe, visit those worlds unknown Of which so many wkhes rose within thine ow■ Ecstatic bosom. and see and adore That Saviour who God's curses for us bore. 'll place this mouhrring body in the ground, And let the Rummer flowers spring up around It. and the light soft wing'd autumnal gale Pass by it, or the tempest o'er it wail— And calmly wait, till God shall raise me where My spirit, blest with thine, shall know no care. AN AMUSING TREAT !No. xv. ] JAPHET, IN SEARCH OP A FATIMA. [Ki-Continued from No. 23.] Mortified at the intelligence which over threw my hopes and castle buildings, I seized my hat, descended the st , iirs, and quitted tile house, in my hurry and confu sion quite forgetting to call the servants to her ladyship's assistance. Fortunately, I perceived the Misses Fairfax close to the iron railing of the garden. I crossed the road, wished them good b'ye, and told them that I thought Lady Menlstrom looked very ill, and they had better go in to her. I then threw myself into the first hackney coach, and drove home. I found Timothy had arrived bel;ire me, and I initiated all that had passed. "You will never be able to go there again," observed Timothy, "and depend upon it, she will be your enemy through life. I wish you had not said any thing to her." "What is done rannot be undone; hut recollect that it she can talk, I can talk also." "Will she not be afraiol" 'Yes openly, she will; but open attacks can he parried." "Very true." "But it will be as well to pacify her, if I can. I will write to her." I set down and wrote as follows: "MY DEAR LADY MAI.LFTRoat.-1 am so astonished and alarmed at the situation I put von in, by my impertinence and folly, that 1 hardly know how to apologise. The fro is, that looking over sonic of my father's old letters, I found many from Warrender, in which he spoke of an affor with a young lady, and I read the name as your maiden name,and also discovered where the offspring was to be found. On reexamination, for your innocence was too evident at our mee ting to admit of a doubt, I find that the name, although something like yours, is spell rery deferently, and that I must have been led into an unpardonable error. What can I say, except that I throw myself on your . mercy? I dare not appear before you again. I leave town to.morrow, but if you can pard my folly and impertinence, al low me tar pay my respects when London is full again, and time shall have softened down your just anger. W rite me one line to that eflect,and yoy will relieve the burdened con science of "1 ours most truly, "J. NEWLAND." "There, Tim," said I, as I finished rea ding it over, "take that as a stop to the old Cerberus. She may think it prudent, as I have talked of letters, to believe me and make friends. 1 will not trust her, never theless." Tim went away, and very soon returned with an answer. "Tou aro a foolish macl•cnp,nnd i ought to ..hart my door z!gait:•t Nom you hove half 1 ..0;k...1 in , — Tod! v v ..; ~;:: (G. im.; al( (1:(.1 'oelore you make an assertion. As for forgiving you, I shall think of it, and when you return to town, you may call and receive 'my sen tence. Cecilia was quite frightened, poor dear girl, what a d'ear affectionate child she is!—she is a treasure to me, and I don't think I ever could part with her. She sends her regards. 1,1 "Yours, "C• MAELSTROM." "Come, Timothy, at all events this is better than 1 expected—but now I'll tell you what I propose to do. Harcourt was with me yesterday, and he wishes me to go down with him to—, There will he the assizes, and the county ball, and a great deal of gaiety, and I have an idea that it is just as well to beat the country as the town. I dine with old Masterston on Friday. On Saturday I will go down and . see Fleta, and on Tuesday or Wednesday I will start with E 7 ROBERT wzierm lannLETor, Enztron, PIMBLICIEMP. AND PROPRIETOR. " I WISH NO OTHER HERALD, NO OTHER SPEAKER OF MY LIVING ACTIONS, TO KEEP MINE HONOR FROM CORRIIPTION."-SIUASS. (112f.T Z' Val CU 9 poop al cco-ywcarto az:a.rp221431:111121 3 anag. Harcourt to his father's, where he has promised me a hearty welcome. Was there any thing at Coleman street?" "Yes sir, Mr. lying said that ho had just received a letter from your correspondent, and that he wished to know if the little girl was well; I told him that she was. Mr. lying laid the letter down on the desk, and I read the post mark, Dublin." "Dublin," replied I. "1 should like to find out who Melchior," is—and so I will as soon as I can." "Well, sir, I have not finished my story." Mr. lying said, "My correspondent wishes to know whether the education of the little girl is attended to?" 'Yes,' replied 1, 'it is.' Is she at school?" 'Yes' she has been at school ever since we have been in London.' W here is she at school?" enquired he. Now, sir, as I never was asked that ques tion by him byline, I did not know whether 1 ought to give an answer, so I replied, 'that I did not knew,' You know whether she is in London or riot, do you not?" '•Ilow should I?" replied „ "master had put her to school before I put on his liveries." "Does he never go to see her?" enquired he. "I suppose so," said I. "Theo you really know nothing a limit ii7—then look you, my lad, I am anxious to find out where she is at school, and the name of the people, and if You will find out the direction for me, it will be money in your pocket, that's all." "Um," replied I, "but how much?" "Why, more than you think for, my man, is will be a ten pound note." "That alters the case," replied 1; "now I think again, I have an idea that I do remember seeing her address on a letter my master wrote to her." "Aye," replied Mr. lying, "it's astonishing how money sharpens the memory. I'll keep to my bargain; give me the address,and here's the ten.pound note." "I'm a'raid that my master will be angry," said 1, as it I did not much like to tell him: "Your master will never know any thing about it, and you may serve a long time before he gives you a ten pound note above your wages." "That's very true,' said 1, "service is no inheritance. Well, then, give me the money, and I'll write it down[.' " "And did you give it?" interrupted I. "Stop a moment, sir, and you shall hear. I wrote down the address of that large scoot at Kensington. which we pass when we go to Mr. A uhry White's." "What, that tremendeous large board with yellow let ters--M i s. Let—what is it?" "Mrs. 1 4i ipsconibe's seminary— I always read the board every time I go up and down. I gave him the address, Miss Johnson, at M rs. Lipscombe't, seminary, Kensington. Well--and here's the ten•pound note, sir, which I think 1 have fairly earned.,' "Fairly earned, Tim?" "Yes, fairly earnef'; for it's all fair to cheat those who would cheat you." "I cannot altr.ether agree with you on that point, Tim, bat it certainly is no more than they deserve; hut this is matter for re. flection. Why should Melchior wish to find out her address without my knowledge depend upon it, there is something wrong." "That's what I said to myself coming home; and I made up my mind, that, for some reason or another, he wishes to re gain possession of her." "I entertain tl'e same idea, Timothy, and lam glad you have disappointed him. I will take care that they shall not find her out, now that I am upon my guard." "But, sir, I wish to draw one good moral from this circumstance; which is—that if you had been served by any common fhot man,your interest would, in all probability, have been sacrificed to the ten•pound note; and that not only in this instance but in many others. I did a very wise thing in taking my present situation." "I am but too well aware of that, Tim, my dear fellow," said 1, extending my hand, "depend upon it, that if I rise, you dn. You know me well enough by this time." "Yes, I do, Japhet, and had rather serve you than the first nobleman in the land. I'm going to purchase a watch with this ten-pound note, and I never shall look at it without remembering the advantage ofkeep. ing a watch over my tongue." I proved the will of Major Carhonnell, in which there was no difficulty; and then I sat down to consider in what way I might best husband my resources. The house was in good repair, and well furnished. At the time I lived with the major, we had our drawing-room, and his bed• room, and anoth er room equally large, used as his dressing. room, on the first floor. The second floor was appropriated to me, and the sitting-room was used as a dining-room 11W at home, which wits but s• - . 14 • • lyisereent Was let as a sl.np, ai dred pounds per We ii . door for entrance, and the kitchens and attics. I resolved to retain only the first floor, and let the remainder- of the house; and I very soon got a tenant at sixty pound per annum. The attics were appropriated to Timothy and the servants belonging to the lodger. Of this tenant, I shall speak hereafter. . After having disposed of what was of no service to me, I found that, 'deducting the thousand pounds paid into the banker's, for Lord Windermear, I had a little above three thousand pounds in ready money, and what to do with this I could not well decide. I applied to Mr. Masterton, stating the exact amount of my finances, on the day, that I dined with him, and he- replied, "You have two good tenants, bringing you in one hundred and sixty pounds per annum; if this money is put out on mortgage, i can pro mre fiveyou per cent., which will be .one. hun- dred and fifty pounds per annum. Now, the question io , do you think that you can live upon three hundred and ten pounds per annum? You have no rent to pay,andishould think that, as you are not at any great ex pense for a servant, that you might, with economy, do very well. Recollect, that if your money is lent on mortgage, you will not be able to obtain it at a moment's warn ing. So reflect well before you decide." I consulted with Timothy, and agreed to lend the money, reserving about two hun dred pounds to go on with, until I should receive my rents and interest. On the Friday I went to dine wi.h ritasterton, and narrated what had passed between me and -Lady Maelstrom. He was very much diverted. and laughed immoderately. "Up on rny.filith, Mr. Newland, hut you have a singular species of madness; you first attack Lord Windermear, then a bishop, and, to crown all, you attack a dowager peeress. I must acknowledge, that if you do not find !lit your parents, it will not be for want of enquiry. Altogether, you are a most singular diameter, your history is most singular, and your good fortune is equally so. You have made more friends before you have come to age, than most people do in th e i r whole liv es . You commence the world with nothing, and here you are, with almost a competence—have paid off a loan of one thousand pounds, which was not re quired—and are moving in the best society. Now the only drawback I perceive in all this is, that you are in society under false colours, have made people suppose that you are possessed of a large fortune." "It was not exactly my assertion; sir." "No, I grant, not exactly: but you have been a party to it, and I cannot allow that there is any difference. Now, do you mean to allow this supposition to remain uncon• t radicted?" "I hardly know whit to say, sir; if I were to state that I have nothing but a bare com petence, it will be only injurious to the memory orMajor Carbonell. All the world will suppose that he has ruined me, and that I had the fortune; whereas, on the contrary. it is to him that I am indebted for my pres ent favourable position." "That may be very true, Mr. Newland; but if I am to consider you as my protege, and I may add, pmtege of Lord Windermear, I must make you quite honest-1 will be no party to fraud in any shape. Are you pre pared to resign your borrowed plumes, and appear before the world as you really arer "There is but one inducement, sir, for me to ‘s ish that the world may still deceive themselves. I may be thrown out of soci• ety, and lose the opportunity of discovering my pa rrents." "And pray, Mr. Newland, which do you think is more likely to tend to the discovery, a general knowledge that you are a found• ling in search of your parents, or your pre sent method, of taxing every body on sus. picion. If your parents wish to reclaim you, they will then have their eyes directed towards you,from your position beirt known; arid I will add, there are few parents who would not be proud of you as a son. You will have the patronage of Lord Winder mear, which will always secure you a posi tion in society, and the good wishes of all, although I grant, that such worldly people as Lady Maelstrom may strike your name off their porter's list. You will, moreover have the satisfaction of knowing that the friends which you make have not been made under false colours and appearances, and a still further satisfaction, arising from a good concience." "I am convinced, sir, and I think you for your advice. I will now be guided by you in every thing." "Give me your hand, my good lad, I now will be your friend to the utmost of my power." "I only wish, sir," replied I, much affec ted, "that you were also my father." "Thank you for the wish, as it implies that you have a good opinion of me. What do you mean to do?" "I have promised my friend Mr. Har court to go down with him to his father's." “Welly "And before I go I will undeceive him." "You are light; you will then find wheth er he is a friend to you, or to your supposed ten thousand pounds per annum. 1 have been reflecting, and I am not aware that any thing else can be done at present than acknowledging to the world who you really are, which is more likely to tend to the dis covery ofyour parents than any other means, but at the same time I shall not be i‘ii-• • luwvers have among my frate - w % —i. , y, I shoil out t be your e Coq' I=HEEIII „t _ history is known; those trtu , cm you are those whose acquaintanri'o. , - - Ivienaship is not worth having; it will taiinti , ,i;:,y_oor flat= terers, and you will not .ahem o'; your hav ing been honest; in tire i,t is the best policy, even in a wotkit . , itr.t of view. Come to me as often its 7oti rdoase, I am al- ways at home to yui , . 1i! always your friend.” Such was the rr•s - Iv 'Elmer' with' Mr. Masterton, whir " —fated to Tim. othy as soon as I re. "Well, Japhet, I think you et, aid a real, friend in Mr. Masterton, and i :Ira glad that you have decided upon - ,;l,llowing his advice. As for me, 1 am no' utnl';•r false colours, 1 am in my right sttuati.r... ;lad wish no more." In pursuance :)f iv:iy promise to Mr.' Alas tenon, 1 called .trpiq'i Harcourt the next morning, add atler my intention to go down for a day or two into the country, to see a little girl who was under my care, I said to him, "Harcourt, as long as we were only town acquaintances, mixing in society, and under no peculiar obligation to each other, I did not think it worth while to un deceive you on a point in which Major Car bonell was deceived himself, and has deceiv. ed others; but now that you have offered to introduce me into the bosom of your family, I cannot allow you to remain in error. It is generally supposed that I am about to enter into a large property when I come of low; now, so fir from that being the cane, have nothing in the world but a bare compe• fence, and the friendship of Lord, Winder mea r. In fact, lam n deserted child, ignor ant of my parents, and most anxious to dis cover them, as 1 have every reason to sup pose that 1 am of no mean birdi. I tell you this candidly, and unless you renew the invitation, shall consider that. it has nut been given." Harcourt remained a short time without answering. "You really have astonished me, Newland; but," continued he, extend ding his hand, "I admire—l respect you, and I feel that I shall like you better. With ten thousand pounds a year, you were above me—now we are but equals. I, no n younger brother, have but a bare compe tence, as well as you; and as for parents— fi,r the benefit I now derive from them, I might as well have none. Not but. my father is a worthy, fine old gentleman, but the estates are entailed; he is obliged to keep up his position in society, and he has a large family to provide for, and he can do no more. You have indeed an uncommon moral courage to have made this confession. Do you wish it to be kept a secret'?" "On the contrary, I wish the truth to be known." I am glad that you say so, as I have mentioned you as a young man of large for- tune to my lather, but I feel convinced when I tell him this conversation, he will be much more pleased in taking you by the hand, than it you were to come down and propose to one of my sisters. I repeat the invita tion with double the pleasure that I gave it at first." "I thank you, Harcourt," replied I; "some day I will tell you more. -1 must not expect, however, that every body will prove them selves as noble in ideas as yourself." "Perhaps not, but never mind that. On Friday next, then, we start." "Agreed." I shook hands and left him. The behaviour of Hamlin was certainly a good encouragement,and, had I been waver ing in my promise to Mr. Masterton would have encouraged me to proceed. I return. ed home with a light heart and a pleasing satisfaction, from the conviction that I had done right. The next morning I set off for—, and, as it was a long while since I had seen Fleta, our meeting was a source of delight on both sides. I found her very much grown and improved. She was ap proaching her fifteenth year, as near as we could guess—of course her exact age was a mystery. Her mind was equally expand. ed. Her mistress praised her docility and application, and wished to know whether I intended that she should be taught music and drawing, for both of which she had shown a decided taste. To this I immedi• li ately consented,and Fleta hung on my shoul der and embraced me for the indulgence. She was now fast approaching to woman• hood, and my feelings towards her were more intense than ever. I took the chain of coral and gold beads form her neck, tel. ling her that I must put it into a secure place, as much depended.upon it. She was curious to know why, but I would not enter into the subject at. that time. One caution I gave her, in case by any chance, her re treat should be discovered by the compan ions of Melchior, which was, that without I myselfcame, she was on no account to leave the school, even if a letter from me was produced, requesting her to come, un less that letter was delivered by Timothy. I gave the same directions to her mistress, paid up her schooling and expenses, and then left her, promising not to be so long be fore I saw her again. On my return to town I deposited the necklace with Ma. IVI asterton, who locked it up carefully in his iron safe. [TO BE CONTINUED.] THE MEDLEY "A MINGI.MD MAW; edir4.7::s.C" 1. bri , -Ittor %Curid than this. i 5 )410,.er wc:rld than this, sweet hope tis giveg, le rays of pure unsullied bliss, Shine on, and rippling waters kiss, ?hat have their source in Heaven: There is a holier clime than ours, Whore no rude storms are driven Across our path, to blight the flowers, Or crush the hopes of aunny hours,— For this pure clime Is Heaven. There wearied, broken spirits; rest, At peace, secure, forgiven; No more by anguish sore oppressed; They have a home among the blest, Forever firm in Heaven. Then, when life's fountains cease to play, And being's link is riven, Oh! may our spirits soar away, And bathe in glory's brightest ray Around the throne of Heaven! FROM THE CARLISLE HERALD. A SCENE AT A feeble light in yon low cottage shone, Like some benignant star whose aid is gives' To ~guide the lonely pilgrim to his bow. Or lead some erring spirit back to I heard a sound of sorrow. - Like distant music cm • I loved it, for Li- And shed • It w- [WHOLE NO. 286. I heard its accents on the midnight air, Aud felt their deep solemnity and power. Her infant sonlay folded in her, arms, As some fair rose-bud of the richest hue, Which greets the morning with its blushing charms, And droops at ev'ning, on the stem it grew. 'Twas in the closing agony of death, A tear-drop glittered in his little eye, And as he caught at each successive breath, It seemed as though he did not wish to die. One struggle more—the little babe was dead, The tear had frozen in his light-blue eve; A guardian angel hovered round his head, And lead the utilledg'd spirit to the atty. Sept. 10, 1535. MONTALIART4 LIST OF CHURCHES IN NEW YORK.-'—A" New York paper—the Sunday Times—preN gents a list of the various places xtf publki worship, with the several locations and res pect ive Pastors, in that city. From this statement, it would seem, there are in the city of New York—Presbyterian Churches, 25; Episcopalians, 29; Reformed Dutch, 18; Baptist, 17; Lutlieran,l2; Roman Catholic, 8; Methodist Episcopal, 12; Independent Methodist, 8, Congregationalist, 2, Uni versalist, 3; Unitarian, 2; "Christian;" 1;' Jewish Synagogues,3; German Reformed, Mariner's, 1; Moravian, 1; New Jerusalem, I; Orthodox Friends,l; Hickeites, 3. To• tal places of worship, 145. A goodly num ber, if they are alt and always adequately filled. STEAM CATERIA.OE3 ON Mc A DAMEZED ROADS.-It is stated ;in a London paper, that a steam-carriage, on Mr. Gurney's prig. ciple, lately went from London to Reading,. 90 miles, in three hours and fifteen minutes. It returned to London, with twenty passon gers,in three hours and twenty-two minutes., It will be recollected that this was upon e common Macadamized road. BREACII OF PROXISE.--liliss L. J. Moore, of Springfield (Mass.) has recovered ofJona than M, Boles $5OO, for breach of marriage promise. The New York Star says—Miss Lydia laid her charges at $3OOO, and would have obtained more than the $5OO, had it not been shown that during the aforesaid engagement, she had been flirting with oth er boys besides Jonathan. • SECRETARY OF MICHIOAN.—The Globe of this morning announces the following ap pointment by the President: JOHN S. HORNER, of Virginia, Secretary of the Territory of Michigan, Charles Sha ler, of Pennsylvania, having declined the appointment. The Globe learns that Mr. Horner hds accepted the appointment, and that he is now on his way to Detroit. The Globe gives as a reason for the President's neglect, in these important times to Michigan, to ap point a Governor of the Territory; the re fusal of the Senate to confirm the nomina tion of Mr. Gilpin, and the understanding that the Territory was about to change it:; form of Government, and that the peoplo were not desirous of having a new Govern or appointed for so short a period as that which would intervene before they wore admitted into the Union, when they could choose their own Governer.—[Balt. Pat. 1111PORTANT TO LANDLORDS..—Judge Wil liams decided a case in Dedham, Massachu setts, of considerable importance to those who leas farms. It appears, that a tenant had errected a fence, the cost of which was to be deducted out of the rent; and also had made a quantity of manure, both of which were attached by , a creditor of the ten. and removed. The Judge decided that Me fence, if intended to be a permanent one, be longed to the land; and that the manure which is made on a farm, in the ordinary way, belongs to the farm, &c. LYCOMING COUNTY. JaRSEY SHORE, Pa Sept. B.—The meet ing held in Williamsport, on Thursday eve ning last, by the friends of Ritner and Re. form, was decidedly the largest political meeting ever convened in the county! It was principally composed of the Farmers, • Mechanics, and Workingmen—the ho.. and sinew of the county. Among,tl‘ri: l 7 assembly we perceiver? cnE of the and most respect:AlL .17;r.tbit‘totg county, who Imo t i more than* :in miles , .11 proceedm , • ineetiu; , „,w1 i.l, until recently, rank:. nrirc-; and most ardent suppoiliA ' Wolf. 'The ticket which was adopted by th meeting is a good one, and will no doubt r ceive the unanimous and cordial support ct all the friends of a reformation in the admin=q istration of our state Government. Thel . gentlemen who compose it, are intelligent; honest and capable..—Lycoming Free Frew ARICANBA9. — From a statement in the! last Arkansas Gazette, showing theis:o4l tion of the several counties in that .TerZ ry, (with the exception of two,not yel h . from,) it appears that the wholikno..4 inhabitants in the Territory an*glia-tii-In 809. It is supposed that the rieki the two . counties not ineltidediWil/ number to about 53,000. # taken, shows an increaael: within the last two= ` * -- slave poptilati there OP"
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers