vov.. - 6Q rtzac.--,Agqh 9.94 Office of the Star & Banner COUNTY BUILDING, &BOVE TUB OFFICE OF THE REGISTER AND RECORDER. I. The STAn & REPUBLIC/2f 13.txxxn is published at TWO DOLLARS per annum (or Volume of 52 numbers,) payable half-yearly in advance: or TWO DOLLARS & FIFTY CENTS, if not paid until after the expiration of the year. 11. No subscription will bo recolyed for a short er period than six months; nor will the paper be discontinued until all arrearagos are paid, tin kles at the option of the Editor. A failure to notify a discontinuance will bo considered a now en gagement and the paper forwarded accordingly. 111. ADVERTISEMENTS not exceeding a square will be inserted THREE times for $l, and 25 cents for each subsequent insertion—the number of in sertion to be marked,or they will be published till forbid and charged accordingly; longer ones in the same proportion. A reasonable deduction will be made to those who advertise by the year. I V. All Letters and Communications addressed to the Editor by mail must be post-paid, or they will not be attended to. THE GARLAND. .--" With sweetest flowers enrich'd From various gardens cull'd with cam" THE BALLOT BOX. Ircedom's consecrated dower. Casket of a princely gem! Nobler heritage of power Than imperial diadem ! Corner stone on which was reared Liberty's triumphal dome, When her glorious form appeared 'Midst our own green mountain honie! Purchased by RS noble blood As in mortal veins ere run. By the teil of those who stood At the side of Washington;— By the hearts that met the foe On their native battle plain, Where the arm that deals the blow Never needs to strike again! Where the craven that would dare Mar it with polluted breath' Scorned and cursed be his to share The traitor's shame—the traitor's death! Lot his faithless heart be torn From his recreant bosom riven, • And upon the whirlwind borne, To the murrain], be given! Guard it, freemen!—guard it well! Spotless as your maidens' fame! Never let your children tell Of your weakness l —of your shame— That their fathers basely sold What was bought with blood and foil That you bartered right for gold, Here on freedom's 'sacred soll Let your eagle's quenchless eye, Fixed, unerring, sleepless, bright, Watch when danger hovers nigh, From his lofty mountain height, While the stripes and stars shall waive O'er this treasure pure and free, The land's Palladium, it shall save The home and shrine of liberty. From the Metropolis. TAKE THE RUBY WINE AWAY Bring me forth the cup of gold, Chaqed by Druid's hands of old, Filled from yonder fountain's broest, Where the waters are at rest; This for me—ln joyous hour, Thta for mo—in beauty's bower, This for me—in manhood's prime, This for ine—in life's decline. Bring mo forth the humbler horn, Filled by hunter's hnnd et morn. From the crystal sprirg that flows Underneath the blooming rose, Where the violet loves to sip, Where the lily cools her lip; Bring me this—and T will say, Tako•the ruby wino away! Pak° corny tho damning &sued, By the hachanolian quaffed! Take away the liquid death— Serpents nestle in its breath, Terror rides upon its flood, Vice surrounds its brim of blood, Sorrow in its bosom stings, Sorrow buoyed on pleasure's wings. Dip tho bucket in tbo well, Where the trout delights to dwell— Where tbe sparkling water sings, As it bubbles from the springs— Where tho breezes whisper sweet, Where the happy children meet, Draw, and let the draught be mine— 'Pike sway the rosy wine I' maacirAlu.iarsirarDlic3o Fion, iho'Latly's Comp - anion. T ; # a Xt, El El C11:7 . , riy_ nr q, s3r4Tff. The iqcident about to be related,:is one . of the many similar area which ,occurred during the early settlement of America.-- Those who sought a home in the savage wilds, which then covered the land, wedded themselves to n life of peril end hardship. The dangers which contu molly threatened them, called forth all .tho heluic qualities ofthelr natu•e, and their lives wore marked by many a 1014 deed daring and devcv tion. Such deeds should not sink into oblivion, for they belong to the history o our country, and as such, should be recor ded and remembered• We would present a picture to the im agination of the reader. There is a broad and beautiful .stream, with deep, still waters, flowing on between hanks covered by luxuriant foliage; and its bright surface dotted here end there with fairy little isles, where graCeful shrubs and fragrant flowers bud and blossom undisturbed in wild find lonely loveliness. Bright plumed birds; of many varieties, are winging . their way over the quiet water, and the surrounding scene echoes with their tuneful minstrelsy. On the borders of tho river, at the edge of a forest that stretches far away over,hill and dale, stands the rude but, picturesque dwelling of a backwoodsman: with the blue smoke curling up from its lowly roof, and its humble walls glancing out from the green foliage that surrounds them. There are some indications of taste and refinement near the woodman's home, which give a cheerful appearance to that otherwise wild and lonely scene. A. graceful vine cur• tains the lowly window, and many bright flowers, natives of a distant soil, shed their grateful prefume around. Near the door hangs a cage, containing a rare and beauti ful bird, whose song of gladness breaks sweetly upon the stillness of that solitary On it low .seat at the entrance of the dwelling; is seen a young woman, caress ing an infant. She has lost the blooming} loveliness of early youth7---her check is pale, and her brow wears that thoughtful expres sion which is imprinted by the touch of care; yet she - is still beautiful in form and feature, and none may look upon her with. out admiration. As she bends over the child in her arms, her eye fills with the unutterable tenderness and love which are only seen - in the eye ofa mother, and which make. the face ofa beautiful woman almost angelic. Now and then she turns from the child,to send an anxious glance towards the forest,as ifahe watched for the approach of some ono from that :direction. She is momentarily expecting her husband. He left his home at morn; the hour appointed for his return passed away. The shadows of the trees are lengthening in tho rays of the setting sun, and yet he conies not. The fond wife begins to tremble for his safety —a fearful foreboding of evil steals over tier mind, and the dark dren.l of some approach ing calamity haunts tier imagination. She has reason to fear; for that portion of country was, at this time, the theatre of many- a tragic. scene. Sometimes the woodman in penetrating too far into the pat hless.recesses ofthe forest, lost his way, and wandered for days in the dreary wil derness, suffering many miseries, and per ishing at last by the pangs of hunger.— Sometimes a hungry beast of prey would cross the path of the wanderer, and doom him to a dreadful death. Sometimes the wily red man, who yet- lurked dun% these lonely wilds, entrapped the white hunter, and, from a spirit of revenge, or the thirst for blood, sacrificed his victim with the most wanton and barbarous cruelty. As the anxious wife thought of these things, her fears and forebodings became almost insupportable. Hushing the infant to sleep, she carried it into the dwelling, and deposited it in its cradle hed. She then hastened forth again, and wandered along the path that led to the forest, an xiously looking forward the while for her husband. She walked onwarif for some time, fondly hoping to see the object of her search, bat her hopes were vain, and send ing one more searching glance around, and seeing nothing but the gloomy shadows of the trees, she turned with a heavy heart to retrace her steps. As she was proceeding homeward, a sudden fear . for her child whom she had left alone, crossed her mind and caused her to hasten forward. Draw ing nearer to the dwelling, this fear became so intense, that it amounted almost to a conviction of some terrible calamity. 7— Flying,rather than walking, she reached the house, and sprang to thii cradle—it was empty, and the child no where to be seen I With frantic eagerness she rushed to the back doer of the dwelling, which oho had left Closed, and which she now found was open. She was just in time to see a party of Indians making rapidly to the woods. Her heart whispered the fear ful assurance that they bore away its trea. sure. Here was a • trying situation for a timid and helpless woman—her husband afar off— perhaps in the peril—her child —her first born, and only one, torn away by the rude hand of a'stivage 7 —dread night approaching, and no earthly arm to aid! Without pausing for reflection, the moth er flew along, the path which the Indians had taken. Now and then she caught a glimpse, of their forma, as they moved ra pidly through the trees, but as the twilight deepened, and surrounding objects became more distinct, even that slight comfort was denied tier, and she - traced her ' gloomy pathway without knowing whether or not it would bring her nearer the objectof-her pursuit. Yet she paused , not a moment , in indecision but hastened onward through the. increasing darkness, unconscious of th e Uncertainty of her search; and the - Wildness of her exPedition.- She had but one thought —one hope; and that was to be-- .near. her child—to save .it, if it could be saved, .or perish with it, if perish it 'mist. Strong in this determination she pushed forward thoughtless of fatigue and tearless of peril. As the night advanced the' wind rose and sighed among the. trees with a mournful 4ml heart.chilltng sciurftj. The stars, that O.I.urzsiZINGTON 130 WEN, EnITOR PROIS7.=TOR. 4, The liberty to know, to utter, and to argae, freely, to above all other liberties.”—MlLTON exalwrekimuPacus a;•glicio ustvmarbztrt. daranPaut aatta. had hitherto shed a faint light through the branches, were now veiled in black clouds, that seemed to pressago a storm; and ever and anon the shrill croaking of a night-bird, or the prolonged howl of a beast of prey, was borne to the ear of the unhappy wan ,- derer, waking fearful thoughts and warning her (,f the dangers by which she was sur• rounded. Those who have' never reamed in a forest at midnight, can scarcely realize how much that is terrifying is connected with such a journey. At one time, the howl of the hungry wolf will burst an mid. denly and clearly on the ear, that wo can scarcely persuade ourselves that the mon ster is not close at our side—at anothei, the falling of a dee:eyed - branch will pro duce such a loud and fearful sound, that we deem it the fatal plunge which must doom us to deStruction: Now the Wind will come with fitful and moaning cadence, so like tLe human voice, that We for nn instant believe it to he the Wail of' - ati agonized being—and againit will sweep by with a rushing sound like' a troorrof enraged mon sters, bent on a mission of death. Some. times an unseen low-drooping branch Will softly touch the shoulder, congealing the warm current of life with the idea that a spectral hand has suddenly arrested our progress: and again a black and blasted tree, with one or two sore branches pro truding from its side, %.':4l for an instant still the pulsation of the heart, as we be. hold in it a frightful phantom, stretching forth its arms to grasp our shrinking forms. All this, and more, must one fed and ear in a lonely midnight Oilgrimnge through the forest; and all this the mother endured as.she pursued her almost hopeless enter prize. She had travelled far, very far, for the darkness of night . and the intricacies of the wood had scarcely lessened the speed with which she commenced her walk, and she had been many hours on her way.— Weariness was beginning to overcome her —hope was departing from her heart and despair chilling all her energies, whon she discovered afar off through the trees light. It was but a feeble glimmer, yet, oh! how it irradiated the path of the wan derer. The instant she beheld it, hope sprang back to her heart, and . strength invigorated her frame. That faint and far•offray seemed the light of returning happiness, and she watched it as eagerly as the mariner watches the star which guides loin over the ocean's storreY waves. She now hastened onward with red„ot►led energy, and though her steps sometimes faltered, and her heart sunk within her, as the light disappeared behind some inter vening object, she still kept her eve steadi ly in the direction of the beacon ; and soon gained a position where it shone brightly before her, and she could approach-without losing sight of it again. As she drew near she gazed upon the scene which that light revealed, with mingled feelings of aston• ishrr . ient, hope, and fear. There was a large fire built of dried bran ches of trees, and around it lay the dusky forms of five or six Indians, reposing upon the ground. 'choir appearance was savage and fearful in the extreme; each with his painted feathers lighted by the fitful glare of the fire, and hia tomahawk and scalping knife gleaming at his side. Near them were implements of hunting, and around tho fire lay scattered bones and fragments of a recent rude and hasty repast. The whole scene was calculated to strike terror into the henrt of the delicate being who gazed upon it. But Rho scarcely saw the rude savages or their implements of death, for her whole soul was absorbed in contemplating n por. I lion of the eceno which we have not yet described, which riveted her attention with a thrilling , and Magic power. Bound to a tree was the form of her husband; and at his feet on the cold ground, lay her child. The father's face was pale and stained with blood; the infant's was covered with its dress, and its form was motionless as' if chilled by the cold hand of death. How felt the fond wife and mother when that sight of horror met her eye? . Repressing by a mighty effort the shriek olagony that rose to her lips, and conquering, by the strength of a heroic soul, the almost irre sistiblo desire she felt to rush forward, and clasp those dear ones to her aching heart, she stood gazing upon the scene with feel. ings that cannot be described. She saw with a throb of sudden joy that her husband lived, but her heart grew cold again as she watched the motionless form of her child. She longed to-fly to its side and ascertain the truth, for the suspense that preyedupon her spirit was terrible, but again her rest)• lute mind restrained her, and she began to deliberate upon the situation of her husband, and to devise means for releasing him. The light cast by the fire on all things near it, enabled the wife to note the scene distinctly. `She saw with a thankful heart that the savages all slept, and that she could reach the side of her linsband • with. out passing' near enough to wake them; but she also saw that he was bound' by strong cords, which she could not 'hope in, her wearied_ state, to unfasten, and she look. ed about for something to sever - them.— There was nothing save the knives which the Indians. wore in their sides. Looking , .more intently she saw that one Of these had slipped from its place, and lay on the ground by its owner so near, that his; hand almost' touched the hilt. A pang of 'intense fear shot through her frame when she thought of approaching so close to the terrific form of the savage, but another look upon the pate face of the prisoner, re•assured her, and she determined to rescue him or perish in the attempt. Sho could not approach the Wiens without revealing herself to the eyes of her husband, and she feared in that case, an exclamation of surprise would follow her appearance, and rouse the foe from their slumber.. After pondering a moment upon the best mode of proceeding, she determined to steal softly back of the tree, place her hand on the lipeof tho cap tive, whisper a few words of explanation, to implore him, not by the slghtest mur mur to frustrate her plans. With a throb bing heart she commenced her perilous undertaking. Noiselessly she made her way to the tree and accomplished her pur pose. There was no time for .delay, yet one instant the mother turned a look upon her child, yearning to clatip it to her bosnm, but not daring to lift the cloth which con cealed its features, and assure herself whether or not it hoed. A little while before she would have given worlds to he able to do this, but now she felt that to behold it wrapped in the slumber of death, would unnerve her arm, and render her unfit for the further prosecution of her trying task. With firmness that would have done honor to a stoic, she conquered the promptings of natural love and hasten ed away. With a step as noiseless as the falling dew, she glided towards the slum:7 boring savages; as she drew near, her frame trembled so violently, that she could scarcely support herself; and when she put forth her hand to take the knife, the beating of her heart was so audible, she feared it would wake the sleepers, and she preverl her hand convulsively upon it to still its tumultuous throbbings. One terrible instant she thought the eyes of the Indian opened, and glared upon her with fierce and malignant expression, but this was mere fancy for he still slept, and the next moment she was gliding away with the knife firmly grasped in her hand.— With a few raprd strokes she liberated her husband, and then bent down and uncover ed the child. To her unspeakable joy, she found it in a slumber as sweet and peaceful as thcmgh it had been hushed to rest upon its mother's bosom.• With a prayer of gratitude upon her lips she lifted it from its rude resting place, turned to her com panion, and tnotomed the way to their home. With rapid and noiseless steps they hurried away, speeding onward with tremulous vet hopeful hearts. Not n mo ment did the fond mother spare to caress her infiint--not a ward did she utter to greet her husband. 'rho spell of n new found uncertain happmessdiad settled upon her spirit, and she feared to break its thril link charm. For a time, they traveled thus in silenee and darkness, moving ns near as they could judge, in the direction of their home, and anxious to be farther, still farther away from their enemies. At length weariness compelled them to rest awhile and as the dawning day began to shed a trembling light abroad, they crept into n thicket and sought repose. The beams of the rising sun lighted the wanderers on their homeward pathway; and when that sun was sinking to repose, its parting . rnys fell over the woodman's bumble home, revealing a scene of bliss such as seldom visit the abode of man.— How radiant with grateful joy was the face of the fond mother, as she clasped her re. covered treasure to her bosom; how full ofadmiring love was the et e of the rescued husband, ns it rested upon his fair preser ver; and ohl how warm and fervent . was the'prayer breathed in that hour of safety, bearing up to heaven the deep devotion of thankful and happy henna. A SCENE ON THE OHIO RIVER.--A face• tious correspondent of the Boston Morning Post, travelling on the Ohio i iver, thus de scribes a scene that "came off" on board the steamer. It's not exactly fair to make woman, alovaly woman," the butt of merri ment; but the story is irresistible:— "Upen looking around to see what chance there was for amusement on our trip from my fellow passengers, 1 was particularly struck with the appearance of an elderly lady, who seemed very ill . at ease... Every' time steam was allowed . to, escape from the boiler she appeared . to fancy it the pre. lude to a grand explosion, and was evident ly in a stute of continual excitement. As she is to be my heroine, I may as well attempt to describe her, although I shall hardly do her full justice. - She was one of the tallest women ever - saw, but the effect of her height was taken away by her immense breadth. She was. one 'of Mc- Donald Clarke's style of beauties—"with a waist like "a cotton bog and a foot like a Bounder," never did I see - such a - moving mass of flesh encircled by a petticoat. 061 she was very fat. Upon inquiry, I learn. ed that she had been a passenger on the steamboat F—, at the time it was burned a few years before, and narrowly escaped with her life. Only a few weeks had elapsed since the catastrophe of the Ben. Sham& by which some scores of hapless mortals were hurried into eternity through the combined agency of fire - and water. What wonder that the, woman was alarmed at the prospect of a steamboat voy. age! ' . - Alter.we left the landing; the principle' topic.of conversation among the passengera was the numerous accidents whichbad ly happened. Nearly every person was equipped with a life preserver, and some were so cautious se. to hung -them up, In their births Wed and ready for use at a moment's warning. Night came, end all were snugly ensconced in their berths, when there arose the cry of fire! The wood on the bow of the boat had caught tire, and was blazing fiercely up, shining through the glass doors of the social hull and the cabin windows until the whole boat seemed enveloped in a sheet of flame. `alarm. Passengers an instant all was confusion and alarm. Passengers tumbled out ofthelr birth's, , and over one another; some grasped their pre servers—some ran for their baggage— some for their wives—the wise ones kept quiet. Iu the midst of the hubbub, the doors of the ladies' cabin flew \vide open, and out burst our fat lady, dressed all in white, her face "a map whereon terror was drawn in all its shapes," and around her waist a huge life preserver, not inflated. Seizing this by the nipple with both hands, she rushed from one to another exclaiming. in a voice of agony' "blow me up! blow me up!! for God's sake blow me no. body blow me up!.'" Had the old lady ac. tually exploded, I must have done as I did, roll on the floor in a fit of inextinguishable laughter,. with half the witnesses of the scene for my companions. The boat was stopped, the fire got under, and, not the least difficult operation, the fat lady's alarm sub. dued. The next day we landed her at her place of destination, since which time I have never seen I)er, but the recollection of the scene has cost me many a fit of the side ache." ►OD THE dlAll AND BEPUBLWAI(DANNEII. HOME. D! nue. Ltnls :sus sisnecur. There's a diamond in memory's soul circling chain Of lustre which time cannot shroud; It has treasures of light for the midnight of pain, And a bow for adversity's cloud. • This diamond is home, the dear home of ouryouth t Where the mother we idoliz'd dwelt With her beautiful lessons of mercy and truth; Where our father at eventide knelt; Where lived the pure love that will cling to the heart Where ever the weary feet roam; . When the beautiful treasures of mem'ry depart . , Still dearer she cherishes Home. The maiden goes forth in young love's holy faith, Confiding in man for her joy; But her idol is subject to changing and death, A zephyr his love can destroy. And then if neglect or indifference come Like death worms, to eat out her heart; Or the fiend who is crueler far than the tomb Impale her live soul on his dart. If she finds the deep cup full of wormwood and gall That mantled with love's rosy foam: How bitter the testa; that in agony fall As she dwells with the mem'ries of Home. The exile condemned by the fiat or fate A stranger in strange lands to rove, In cottage and palace alike desolate, Seeks rest like the wandering dove. Oh! could be like her, with the offering of peace Return to the dear ark again, Where the lov'd, and the beautiful, radiant with bliss Should bring holy balm fur his pain. . Bright eyes are around him, glad tones in his ear, Earth glowing with radiance and bloom, . Ho turns from them all with a sigh and a tear, They waken sad mem'ries of Home. The rambler may rest in tho halls of the great, Where love sheds big; richest perfume, And beauty is languishing under the weight Of her ripe and luxuriant , bloom. • With the gems of the earth, with the pearls of the son, With the laurel or crown on his brow, He will sigh for his home though a cottage it be And the hearts that would worship him now. As the slender weed nods to - the , zephyr'e light breath, A thrill to his bosom will come, 'Tie the some weed that wav'd its white blooms • o'er the path - •• By the door of his own native Home. • Home—home is the Eden thot lives in the pest, . Its memories are 'erald'd with . life; And the angels that make it so holy and blest Aro mother, and sister, and wife. Yes, home is the shrine where the heart of man dwells . And woman reigns royally there; Her long suffering love is the sceptre that quells Wild passion, and sin, and despair. 'Tie there that man's holiest affections entwine, And oho is onthron'd in their bloom; Oh, woman ! the noblest of empires is thine, Thou queen of the heart cherlsh'd HOMO. How rich is thy realm, and how precious thy lot, Home is unto thee paradise, Thy heart hovers trembling around the dear spot Where its treasure in frail caskets lies; Tho beautiful wreath of pure hearted young girls That twines round ilk() altar stone there; The noble brow'd boys with their clustering curls, And spirits unshackled by care. There's a smile of delight in thy husband's proud eye; - - Oh! what shall induce thee to roam, From the treasures of love:and deep fountains of • joy That live in no bower but Home. From the Philadelphia Lodger. THE SUN. . - Thou San, of this great world,both • - Eyo and soul. , MILTON, This gleams. luminary was worshipped by many nations of antiquity, as a deity, . especially by the Persians,. on account of has benign and powerful infinence in warm- ing, illuminating, and vivilYing the OP•qh; in regulating the seasons, and preserving anunated nature...from .destruction, But the_ knowledge that the ancients had of this "powerful king of day,," Waw vary ,limited, cI)W3 8020 when compared to the wonderful discn c er• ies which science and art have enabled the moderns to make. •ThOugh - Astronomy was• studied at.a very early age- of the the, world. and if we credit Jostphtesi,,by the antediluvians, yet-it WU not till-a recent period, that the magnitudes, the numbers, the distancee,.the dentntiea, and othei phe nomena of the heavenly bodiia have been ascertained. - • - - T. he AIWA distance from the earth ut96,- 000,000 miles; .a distance sogreat; that if a locomotive started from thatiuminery wards the earth when Columbus discovered America, (1432) had travelled 'with greater celerity than the one which brought Presi dent 'Tyler's late message to the Ledger, say thirty: miles. an hour, it _would , not have arrived yet! k cannon ball, at the veloci ty of 500 milis an hour would- require more than 21 years to traverse this space; but "swift winged arrows of light;' perform the journey in 84 mimeo., The sun's distance is obtained - by means of his horizontal parallax, a problem then. retically considered, easily solved;. but is the base line is only the semi-diameter Of the earth,(3,9os miles) the angle of para. lax is difficult to find correctly. ley suggested an excellent method to: find this parallax; by means of the' transits, of Venus across the sun's disc. By the last transit (1,769) the parallak was ascertained to be 84 seconds', which -gives the sun's die lance-as above. Le Place, and other emi nent astronomers, consider this distance so near the truth, that the true distance caw not be less than 94 millions, oratora than 97 millions. ' _ The sun's magnitude is . immense. nut diameter is 890,000 miles, so that he Would not only fill the orbit of the moon, but would extend 200,000 miles beyond it in: every direction. if'1,300,000 globes leech as the earth were put together, the encl. mous heap would only Vas large as the sun! and if a fragment as largess the earth was detached from this "great- sourc e of day," it would be no more missed than a pebble of an ounce weight would be missed from a heap of pebbles weighing 38 tons. The density of the sun is much less than the density of the earth. Its specific gravi ty is not much mere than that of water, whereas the specific gravity_of,the earth% more than five times that of water, so that 329,000 such as the earth would weigh the sun. The sun turns on his axis in 25 days, ten hours: this has been known by: means of dark spots which often appear on his disc.. Some of these spots have been seen so large, that ten- worlds such as we inhabit, .could be placed side by side on one of them.;. The sun, (besides a motion:round the common centre gravity) has .aim a, motion. through absolute space of 69,000 miles an hour. His destination is towards the con- Kenai ion Hercules, carrying the earth. and 28 other worlds, and hundreds of cornets, along with him in his sublime career! • The orbits of all the planets and comet. in the solar , system are hence.continnally changing their ethereal locality, if .I may so express it, and we ourselves, through innumerable ages of .eternity;-will. : never occupy the same spot of God's universe which we occupied an hour ago.. .. We are not yet well informed of thn physical constitution of the sun. Sir Isaac Newton, and the philosophers of -his day, considered him an immense globe of fire or molten matter, in a,:copstant state. of ebullition; but this theory has of late been rejected. The Flerchels and other eminent • astronomers assort tbat the sun is an opaque , body like the earth, diversified with hill and dale, and the abode of millions of *millions of, intelligent beings- 1 that the sun's atmos. phere is about 4,000 miles high, on the ten. of which floats a stratum of luminous clouds, which omit: both light and heat, and .that the dark spots which appear and disappear are portions of the dark surface seen through openings in this:atmosphere. Tha solar inhabitants must- beim organization, different from ours: a human being , weigh. ing on terra firma,l7o pounds,would weigh on the solar orb more than tufo tons, a weight sufficient to crush him. LOBELIA.—On the 4th inst. et, Alrtl. mingion, N. C. a Mr. Driver -administered to himself a powerful dose of this medipme, was seized directly after with spasms, and in fifteen minutes was a corpse. A LIBERAL. Acr.--Caplain Stockfon of the U. S. Nevi , . and one of the most liberal and public spirited, of our cati*ens;lqui : inadq a donation of $4OOO to tlin'Ainetican Whig Society, one of the Literary Apociationa of the College of New Jersay.:—.Pinfnl. AN AMERICAN uoritsta, lmtexsetrtrEn.— Captain Merriman, of the br ig , ins, a rrin4 at this port from litStenzae, states they. Nathaniel Cross, Esq. American ,COns . al at that place, was imprisoned by order n the Governor General .91Cpba, the, ed. Captain M. didnot learn the Ville() a * this extraordipary procteding.-.:Pfili.44 • 11 1799 1 ttlit litor ktix, matrrmenr.i IJ' _ vc!rtmetiken. tsppettted,kft C0nc(itc1,15 1 ,..4 1 4 4 paperit--"W hetet! I, Dapiel, CN - T.qtrtifig migrePrifsenlidioh, I_64tieed'pliJ, 4l 4 o w!re,l Rhode,, iothp . paperi,'ipwl4: l B 69 to,tilfocm jii,vo, 410 taken s hey,ici,;,iiii,:iiitql,Ltiatik, AP, ur P, , PrOilik la OR gsiilol/ 1 1f9iir; that ti::4114. gaga CIOCig work," . . , _ , • , , • A wog A mg,%istp,, Cowie iliould teicairried willtitr4eist sprint.
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