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MONUMENTS of any description are beauti- | The first is that of the patriot Emmet,* the fully expressive of a mourner's loss; but in a melancholy countenance of whom now looks metropolis like our own we find, alas! more forth in marble from the garden of the emblems of the follies of the living than of the church upon the thronging multitudes of the virtues of the dead. New-York has indeed city whose adopted son he was. A man, also, evinced a deficiency of gratitude for the ser- whose intellectual efforts were the pure emavices of many of her best and noblest sons. nations of a mighty, ardent and upright soul. The erection of a statue or an honorary tomb In the front wall of the chapel is a statue, over the remains of the immortal Fulton* erected by order of the State legislature, to would alone add much to her present reputa- the memory of General Montgomery ;t and tion. Since the year 1815 they have remained amidst the old altar tombs, and the weepingin the Livingston vault in Trinity churchyard. willows of the cemetery may be seen monuNo star of honor emblazoned upon his breast, ments to Cooke, and Rochambeau, surrounded and no column, let us repeat, standing above by the graves of many patriotic citizens who his grave, records to him a nation's gratitude. have long since mixed their ashes with the

Time, 'tis true, has brought about many sad | moldering dust. and momentous changes. A large and mag-, Within the church stands an elegant monunificent city has encircled the once vacant-like ment to the memory of John Wells, I a member plots which, in “the days that tried men's of the New-York Bar. He was a ripe scholar, souls,” were devoted to the dead. It has cre- a profound lawyer, an eloquent advocate, a. ated many improvements in and about these firm but temperate politician, a finished gentleold and venerated grounds. In the church- man, and a sincere, generous, and steadfast yard just named we find a monument to the friend. Like the renowned Colden, to whose memory of Lawrence and Ludlow. The pres-memory a mural monument has been erected ent one was erected by the vestry of Trinity in Grace Church, he commanded the confiChurch, and designed by Mr. Upjohn, the dence and attachment of his fellow-citizens. architect of that noble building. The original Small in number as are the monuments of monument was built of brick, and encased | New-York, they recall, nevertheless, to our rewith marble ; but even this memento of their membrance, many examples of duty, and of fame was with apparent indifference allowed their beautiful as well as triumphant results. to crumble. The bodies of these illustrious We undoubtedly miss the society of great and men were first buried in Halifax; from thence good men, but are consoled with the reflecthey were removed to Salem, Massachusetts, tion that they whose lives have been spent in and afterwards interred in Trinity church- useful pursuits, cannot be said to have lived in yard. A monument to Hamilton is adjacent vain. thereto, and in the vestry-room of the church

This column was taken from a quarry at East Chesis a like token to the meinory of the pious, the

ter, and it was moved from the North River, previous to gifted, and the beloved Hobart.

its completion, by being placed on rollers, to which were In the cemetery of Saint Paul's we next find attached five yoke of oxen.

† The wife of General Montgomery was a daughter of several of the prominent monuments which

the Hon. R. R. Livingston, Chancellor of New-York. the great city of New-York is able to boast of. After the death of her husband, she visited the city

Dublin, where the people greatly sympathized with her: * Fulton died on the 15th of February, 1815, at his Lawyer Wells died in 1823, at his residence on Brooklyn residence, No. 1 State-street. His body was followed to Heights Cadwallader D. Colden was for several years the grave by the officers of the national and State govern- | Mayor of this city, a State senator, and a representative

I in the Congress of the United States.

ments.

POWHATTAN AND HIS TRIBE.

[From Childs' Treasury of Knowledge.]

PowHATTAN, the most powerful of the Indian | brown when they are of any age, but they are kings, was Sachem of the tribes in Virginia and born white. Their hair is generally black, but the neighboring territory. He was a bold | few have any beards. The men wear half savage-polite and patriotic. He saw at once their beards shaven, the other half long; for that the whites would soon control his country barbers they use their women, who, with two if they were not destroyed, and he set about shells, will grate away the hair, of any fashion to effect this; but, by the prudence and prow- they please. The women are cut in many ess of Captain John Smith, he was baffled in fashions, agreeable to their years, but ever all his schemes for this purpose.

some part remaineth long. They are very Powhattan was called crafty, insidious and strong, of able body, and full of agility, able cruel, but he was no more so than other patri- to endure, to lie in the woods, under a tree, by otic aboriginals. These sons of the forest loved the fire, in the worst of winter, or in the weeds their country, and they had sagacity enough and grass, in ambuscado, in summer. They to see that it would soon be taken from them are inconstant in everything, but when fear if they did not make a struggle to rid them- constraineth them to keep—crafty, timorous, selves of the new-comers. After the marriage quick of apprehension and very ingenious.of his daughter, Pocahontas, to Mr. Rolfe, Some are of dispositions fearful, some bold, Powhattan lived in peace with the English un- most cautious, all savage; generally covetous til his death. If the Indians are seen through of copper, beads and such like trash. They the medium of taste, they are loathsome; but are soon moved to anger, and so malicious that if we view them as warriors, patriots and phi- they seldom forget an injury. They seldom losophers, they are as brave as those of the steal from one another, lest their conjurers phalanx, and as patriotic as Epaminondas; and should reveal it, and so they are pursued and the stoic of the woods is as indifferent to fate punished. That they are thus feared is cer. as the stoic of schools.

tain, but that any one can reveal their offences Captain Smith's account of the Virginia In- by conjuration, I am doubtful. dians is curious, and unquestionably faithful.* " Their women are careful not to be sus

“ The land is not populous, for the men bepected of dishonesty without the leave of their few ; their far greater number is women and husbands. Each household knoweth their own children. Within sixty miles of Jamestown lands and gardens, and most live of their own there are about some five thousand people, but labors. For their apparel they are sometimes of able men fit for their wars, scarce fifteen covered with the skins of wild beasts, which, hundred. To nourish so many together they in winter, are dressed with the hair, but in have yet no means, because they make so small summer without. The better sort use large a benefit of their land, be it never so fertile. mantles of deer-skins, not much different in Six or seven hundred have been the most hath fashion from the Irish mantles. Some em. been seen together, when they gathered them- broidered with white beads, some with copper selves to have surprised me at Pamaunkee, hav- l others painted after their manner. But the ing but fifteen to withstand the worst of their common sort scarce cover their nakedness, fury. As small as the proportion of ground but with grass, the leaves of trees and such that hath yet been discovered is, in comparison like. We have seen some use mantles made of that yet unknown, the people differ very of turkey feathers, so prettily wrought and much in stature, especially in language, as woven with threads that nothing could be disbefore is expressed. Some being very great, cerned but the feathers. That was exceeding as the Sasquesahanocks; others very little, as

warm and very handsome. But the women the Wighcocomocoes; but generally tall and are always covered about their middles with a straight, of a comely proportion, and of a color skin, and very shameful to be seen bare.* We have taken the liberty to modernize the ortho

They adorn themselves most with copper beads craphy of Captain Smith's text.

and paintings.

“ Their women, some have their legs, hands, near half a yard in length, which crawling and breasts and face, cunningly embroidered with lapping herself about his neck, oftentimes divers works, as beasts, serpents, artificially familiarly, would kiss his lips. Others wear wrought into their flesh with black spots. a dead rat tied by the tail. Some on their In each ear commonly they have three great heads wear the wing of a bird, or some large holes, whereat they hang chains, bracelets or feather with a rattle. Those rattles are somecopper. Some of their men wear, in those what like the shape of a rapier, but less, which holes a small green and yellow-colored snake, they take from the tail of a snake.”

THINGS WORTH KEEPING BY HEART.

Wife, MISTRESS, LADY.- Who marries from FLIRTATION, whether seriously or lightly con-, love, takes a wife ; who marries for the sake sidered, is injurious to a woman as well as of convenience, takes a mistress ; who marries exceedingly unbecoming in her. It is a broad, from consideration, takes a lady. You are unblushing confession, which the individual loved by your wife, regarded by your mistress, makes of her desire to attract the notice of men. tolerated by your lady. You have a wife for [Here is something from an Emperor, which, yourself, a mistress for your house and its being intrinsically good, is none the worse for friends, a lady for the world. Your wife will its authority: he who uttered it was a man agree with you, your mistress will accommo- of the world, a keen observer, a philosopher, date you, your lady will manage you. Your and, as our readers must admit, a true prowife will take care of your household; your phet. mistress, of your house; your lady, of appear | NAPOLEON'S ADVICE TO A Young AMERICAN. ances. If you are sick, your wife will nurse

-You soon depart for the Western, and I for you, your mistress will visit you, and your the Eastern hemisphere. A new career of lady will inquire after your health. You take action is now opened before me, and I hope to a walk with your wife, a ride with your unite my name with new and great ever mistress, and join parties with your lady. I and with the unrivaled greatness of the reYour wife will share your grief, your mistress public; you go to unite yourself once more your money, and your lady your debts. If with a people among whom I behold at once you are dead your wife will shed tears, your the simple manners of the first ages of Rome, mistress lament, and your lady wear mourning. I and the luxury of her decline: where I see the A year after your death marries again your taste, the sensibility and science of Athens, with wife; in six months, your mistress; and in six her factions; and the valor of Sparta, without weeks, or sooner, when mourning is over, your her discipline. As a citizen of the world. I lady.-Mirror.

would address your country in the following INFLUENCE OF GENIUS.— There are authors language: Every man and every nation is in approaching whom we are conscious of an ambitious, and ambition grows with power, access of intellectual strength. A "virtue goes as the blaze of a vertical sun is the most fierce. out” from them. Sometimes a single word, Cherish, therefore, a national strengthspoken by the voice of genius, goes far into strengthen your political institutions-rememthe heart. A hint, a suggestion, an undefined | ber that armies and navies are of the same delicacy of expression, teaches more than we use in the world as the police in London or gather from volumes of less gifted men. Paris, and soldiers are not made, like potters'

WHAT IS BEAUTY ?--We discover great vessels, in a minute-cultivate union, or your beauty in those who are not beautiful, if they Empire will be like a colossus of gold, fallen on possess genuine truthfulness, simplicity, and the earth, broken in pieces, and the prey of foreign sincerity. No deformity is present where van and domestic Saracens. If you are wise, your ity and affectation are absent; and we are uncon republic will be permanent; and, perhaps, scious of the want of charms in those who Washington will be hailed as the founder of a have the power of fascinating us by some glorious and happy Empire, when the name of thing more real and permanent than external Bonaparte shall be obscured by succeeding revolu. attractions and transitory shows.

tions. VOL. I.

15

JENNY LIND.

BY REV. RALPINOYT.

The following sweet poem appeared in the Literary World, under another mitle. We have received it from the author, with his correction, and republish it as appropriate to the return of the “ Nightingale" to this city.

But all fraternal, as above,

Since mercy taught the law of love. So mused the angel bands, when lo,

Came soaring mournfully and slow, Bright in the awful depths afar,

As 't were, a lonely, Wandering Star!

'Tis said, sweet Mercy from above

Came down to teach us how to love, And long she strove with mystic skill

Her holy mission to fulfill. Her angel-pinions knew no rest,

For wafting her to every breast : No cottage-home, nor palace fair,

Nor crowded mart, but she was there. Yet street, and lane, and park, and green,

She haunted still, though all unseen; Still whispering low to every ear,

Help, help to wipe away a tear; Some mourner's blessing to secure,

Oh, soothe the sad, supply the poor! Nor vain her prayer; for tear and sigh

She drew from many a passer-by: Made each reluctant purse to feel

The magic of her sweet appeal, Till every child of sorrow there

Could tell her wing was in the air

Yet could not still her gentle sway

Compel the sordid to obey;
The streams of love to amply pour,

Till duty could demand no more.
How strove she with her heavenly art

To touch the spring of every heart,
And open every portal wide

For sympathy's outflowing tide.
But ah! the generous hearts were few

That helped her hallowed task to do.
Her piteous tale the more she told,

Remoter seemed the hoards of gold; Nor prayer, nor tear, nor Christian name,

Constrained to cancel Mercy's claim. In grief, as saith the further tale,

That love on earth could not prevail, Her radiant wings she heavenward spread,

Breathed a despairing sigh, and sped. Long, the celestial hills among,

In pensive melodies had sung The sister angels, many a lay

Of her, the fairest, far away; Yet mingling oft a joyous strain

For earth, by her made glad again ; Man only coveting to know

Where he a blessing may bestow;
Each rivalling other but to prove

Heroic most in deeds of love.
None now to grasp with selfish might

The widow's and the orphan's right;
None to withhold the hireling's meed,

And stint him in his hour of need; None, for the toil of woman fair,

By day's long sun, and taper's glare, With breaking heart and weary eye,

To grant her only-leave to die; Imploring penury no more

Unkindly spurned from every door;

Was silent each seraphic lyre;

Seemed not a bosom to respire; Intent to mark that wonder's flight,

Up-speeding to the world of light. But rapture thrilled all harps anew,

As nearer still the vision drew, And each discerning, eager eye,

Could Mercy's matchless form descry; A mighty shout shook heaven's dome,

Hail, weary sister!--welcome home! Alas, that mortal wrong should rise,

To sadden een the sinless skies: Safe came the voyager at last,

Yet instant shadows wide o'ercast
The sunny landscapes where the blest

Were wont to find serenest rest.
A tear in heaven! oh, precious gem!

World, for thy fallen diadem,
Couldst thou the regal emblem wear,

And let the jewel glitter there; The pearl from Mercy's eye that fell,

And told the grief she could not tell. Electric love! One stroke of woe,

And furthest heaven felt the blow! All heedless, or of rank, or birth,

Archangel, and the babe of earth, Forth from their haunts by hill and dell,

Swift to a countless throng they swell, Each some immortal balm to pour,

To bid one bosom--sigh no more. August in conclave. The high quest,

Shall Mercy more be Mortal's guest; Or, doth it seem to heavenly ken

How she may move the hearts of men ? Then beautiful, from her repose,

The missionary angel rose. Soft accents, too divinely sweet

For bard of earth to e'er repeat, Raining around in fragrant showers,

As budding trees their ripened flowers. Ah, leave not yon apostate race,

To mourn the forfeit of your grace ; But me with one new power inspire ;

Then pausing, touched her golden lyre, And far the listening ranks along,

Poured a full tide of rapturous song, Till heaven's remotest valley rang

With the sweet song that Mercy sang; That power which thus but angels know,

Grant me on mortals to bestow, And down again to cleave my way

To win them by the mighty sway,

Of love and melody combined,

The heaven of brotherhood to find.
She ceased. And swift approval ran,

Let Mercy strive again with man,
And lend the strains she warbles here,

To melt the heart, and start the tear,
Till rivers of relief shall flow,

For every child of want and woe.
Then joyful sprang the glorious maid,

Aloft, in robes of light arrayed;
Her banner,-Peace on Earth, unfurled,

And sped again to bless the world.
As iey winter yields' to spring,

When southern winds are on the wing;
Or, as in summer's fond embrace

Warm blushes tint fair nature's face;
So nations felt the glow of love,

And pure emotions from above,
As from the happy realms on high

Descending Mercy hovered nigh,
Inclining potently the soul

To fervent charity's control;

And shed her holy influence o'er

The myriad hearts so hard before.
She trode again the terrene sphere,

Dispensing solace far and near;
Imparting oft the gifts of song,

In meet degrees, her course alongi
Till softly on an humble child,

She laid her gentle hand, and smiled,
And said, -Receive, fair sister mine,

The might of Melody divine !
Be thine, with peerless seraph-voice,

To make the sorrowing earth rejoice ;
The chiefest mission still to be,

A glorious Almoner for me!
Then hand in hand they twain advanced,

And earth and air, and sea entranced !
And still, resistless, side by side,

With holy purpose, on they glide,
A mortal, and immortal, pair;

All viewless one, and one all fair,
By love and melody, made brave,

A world to bless, delight, and save.

SPRING.

BY TIOMAS R. WIITNEY.

(With an Engraving.)

Spring is come!
With her footstep free on the mountain side,
O'er the fragrant lea and the prairie wide,
Through the livelong day, with an emerald sheen,
She clotheth her way in a robe of green.

Spring is come!
And the zephyrs mild with her light wings move
Through the forest wild and the youthful grove;
Her incense she breathes over garden and wood;
From herbage and trees start blossom and bud.

Spring is come!
With a morning smile so bland and so sweet,
The husbandman's toil she deigneth to greet;
And he hails at the dawn her silvery train,
As over the lawn it glideth amain.

Spring is come!
And the blackbird's note, with the dove and thrush,
On the mild air float from bough and from bush,
Till the tangled glen and the leafy grove
Are merry again with their songs of love.

Spring is come!
She loosens the streams from their wintry bands,
And her mellow beams seek the golden sands,
Where the glad trout springs and the goldfish ply
In the glance that she flings from her sparkling eye.

Spring is come!
Let us fly, my dear, to the sylvan shade;
From the city drear to the blooming glade:
There, love, we'll repose 'neath the myrtle bough,
And the breathing rose shall adorn thy brow.

THE PEDAGOGUE.

This term, which is often irreverently ap- , occasions when he left his father's house,--to plied to school-teachers of the present day, is places of recreation, instruction, &c.—and also derived from the ancient Greeks. With them to teach him the minor branches of education it was customary to place a boy, as soon as he and manners. The Pedagogue was necessarily left the nursery, in the care of a particular slave, selected from other slaves on account of his suin whose charge the boy remained until the age perior intelligence and habits, because, on him of seventeen or twenty years. The slave so devolved the responsibility of framing the chachosen was denominated “ Pedagogue,” and it racter and developing the mind of the Grecian was his duty to accompany his charge on all youth.

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