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lic teacher should for a moment let the | poorhouses. We were much grati- ladies and children. The number of passengreat thought depart from him, that fied to learn some weeks ago that the gers on board, deck and cabin united, was between four and five hundred. I had almost the seed sown by him, whether good or managers of the Alms House of this finished my breakfast, when the pilot rung his bad, will bring forth fruit an hundred city, have determined to raise silk by bell for the engineer to put the machinery in fold, after its kind. the labour of a part of the disabled motion. The boat having just shoved off, I paupers. Such an application of the was in the act of raising my cup to my lip, the labour of persons supported by public I heard an explosion, resembling the discharge tingling of the pilot bell yet on my ear, when charity is especially happy, for it does of a small piece of artillery-the report was not interfere with any established busi- perhaps louder than usual in such cases-for ness by which the more industrious an exclamation was half uttered by me to the and economical poor support them-effect that the gun was well loaded, when the rushing sound of steam, and the rattling of selves. glass in some of the cabin windows checked my speech, and told too well what had occurred. I almost involuntarily bent my head and body down to the floor-a vague idea seemed boiler might burst, and that, by assuming this to shoot across my mind that more than one posture, the destroying matter would pass over without touching me. The general cry of " a boiler has burst" resounded from one end of the table to the other; and, as if by a simultaneous movement, all started on their feet. Then commenced a general race to the ladies' cabin, which lay more towards the stern of the boat. All regard to order or deference to sex should be first and furthest removed from the seemed to be lost in the struggle for which dreaded boilers. The danger had already passed away. I remained standing by the chair on which I had been previously sitting. Only one

The Committee on Finance in the Senate, have reported in favour of the existing state of the currency, and of the United States Bank-and against all new schemes.

A meeting of the "Democratic members of the legislature" of this state has been held, and a committee appointed to prepare an address expressive of their opinion in favour of the re-election of President Jackson. Perhaps this may keep some of the politicians quiet a while longer. We hear nothing as to Mr. Adams' intentions, but if there is to be a contested election, we should prefer having him as the opposing candidate, for in such case all the political pieces that were Monday-The U. S. Gazette constereotyped before would do again with- tains a communication from an antiout the expense of altering the names. New Yorker. Such open hostility to a No, it would not! for the word admin-nation with which Philadelphia is not istration (to which, by the way, being an early Jacksonman we are not yet entirely reconciled)-this word would have to change sides.

The following remarks on the freedom of the press are copied from the National Gazette-and might be published at any time in this country, with a certainty that they would apply to some recent occasion. There is very little freedom of the press here.

Every reflecting person conversant with

at war, deserves the severest punish-
ment: The writer ought to be forced
to stand in Broadway with his eyes
open, on a windy day.

Messrs. Pollock and Abadie adver-
tise a school in which "good society"
will be provided for the pupils.

It has rained "something as black as ink" in Union county, Kentucky. When it dried it looked like ashes and powder." It afterwards snowed black. It will be recollected that Kentucky is

a slave state.

The conduct of the executive in reference to

human nature and human history, knows that
the mass of a community may be excited, by
sudden alarms of selfishness, or impulses of
passion, to proceedings at war with reason,
the duel, will form a new era in the history of
justice, and ultimate advantage, and likely
our Navy and Army; and, bold and stern as
to be regretted by themselves, when they theless be fully sanctioned by the moral sense
the decision may at first appear, it will never-
have become again sedately deliberative. It is
of the public. It is a measure that has been
then for their good that individuals of their
number, who escape the general excitement, long and loudly called for. It will now be vi-
should be tolerated in the declaration of disgorously prosecuted: it is to be extended to
sent, and in decorous remonstrance. We say

nothing of the freedom of the press, because,

whenever it is really used,-that is, on occasions of great public or private sensation-of a partial or general tumult of opinion,-it seems to be the most obnoxious and perilous of all the liberties. In such conjunctures, those who may toast it at public dinners, or boast in florid harangues, of the felicity of Americans in possessing it exclusively, resemble somewhat the famous rovers, the Barbarossas, who were the friends of the sea, but the enemies of all that sailed upon the wide waters. An editor has then scarcely any refuge except dead silence or full chorus. He must lie snug in port, or bear down with the friends of the sea," upon all whom they please to consider as necessary antagonists and natural prey.

every duel in which any person holding an
office in our military or naval service shall be

engaged. This will go far towards it, if it
does not entirely exterminate from the camp
and navy this guilty and foolish custom. Our
government has the power, and we are glad to
see it has the independence and virtue, to
stamp with opprobrium a practice which,
though it has no foundation in reason or com-
mon sense, has nevertheless tyrannized over
the life and better faith of thousands.-Ameri-
can Spectator.

STEAM BOAT HELEN M'GREGOR.
[THE following description of the dreadful ac-
cident, we copy from the Washington Tele-
graph, omitting some particulars too horrible
to be repeated.]

On the morning of the 24th of February, the
Helen M Gregor stopped at Memphis to de-
liver freight and land a number of passengers,
who resided in that section of Tennessee. The

Saturday-Mr. Spencer, from the committee to whom the subject of silk in the United States was referred, reports to Congress that 8 pounds of time occupied in so doing could not have excocoons from the American silk-worm ceeded three-quarters of an hour. When the will produce as much silk as 12 boat landed, I went ashore to see a gentleman pounds from the French or Italian- with whom I had some business. I found him on the beach; and, after a short conversation, that every state in the union is adapt-returned to the boat. I recollect looking at my ed to the culture-that we imported watch as I passed the gangway. It was half last year 8 millions of dollars in silk. past eight o'clock. A great number of persons A correspondent of the Albany Argus being that part of the upper deck situated im were standing on what is called the boiler deck, adds, that the town of Mansfield pro mediately over the boilers. It was crowded to duced $25,000 in silk last year;-that excess, and presented one dense mass of human one fringe maker in Philadelphia, conbodies. In a few minutes we sat down to sumes $20,000 worth a year. He rebreakfast in the cabin. The table, although commends the subject to farmers with completely filled, there being upwards of sixty extending the whole length of the cabin, was large families, and to overseers of cabin passengers, among whom were several

person or two staid in the cabin with me,

As

yet, not more than half a minute had elapsed since the explosion; but, in that brief space, how had the scene changed! In that "drop of time" what confusion, distress, and dismay! An instant before, and all were in the quiet repose of security-another, and they were over

whelmed with alarm and consternation. It is but justice to say, that in this scene of terror the ladies exhibited a degree of firmness worthy of all praise. No screaming, no fainting; their fears, when uttered, were for their husbands and children, not for themselves.

I advanced from my position to one of the cabin doors, for the purpose of inquiring who were injured, when, just as I reached it, a man entered at the opposite one, both his hands covering his face, and exclaiming "Oh God! Oh God! I am lost! I am ruined!" He imme

diately began to tear off his clothes. When stripped, he presented a most shocking and afflicting spectacle; his face was entirely black -his body without a particle of skin. He had been flayed alive. He gave me his name, and place of abode-then sunk in a state of exhaustion and agony on the floor. I assisted in placing him on a mattress taken from one of the births, and covered him with blankets. He complained of heat and cold as at once oppressing him. He bore his torments with a manly fortitude, yet a convulsive shriek would occasionally burst from him. His wife, his children, were his constant theme; it was hard to die without seeing them-"it was hard to go without bidding them one farewell!" Oil and cotton were applied to his wounds; but he soon became insensible to earthly misery. Before I had done attending to him, the whole floor of the cabin

was covered with unfortunate sufferers. Some bore up under the horrors of their situation with a degree of resolution amounting to heroism. Others were wholly overcome by the sense of pain, the suddenness of the fatal disaster, and the near approach of death, which even to them was evident-whose pangs they already felt. Some implored us, as an act of humanity, to complete the work of destruction, and free them from present suffering. One entreated the presence of a clergyman to pray

by him, declaring he was not fit to die. 1 inquired; none could be had. On every side were to be heard groans and mingled exclamations of grief and despair.

To add to the confusion, persons were every moment running about to learn the fate of their

friends and relatives; fathers, sons, brothers
for, in this scene of unmixed calamity, it was

impossible to say who were saved, or who had perished. The countenances of many were so much disfigured, as to be past recognition. My attention, after some time, was particularly drawn towards a poor fellow who lay unnoticed on the floor, without uttering a single word of complaint. He was at a little distance removed from the rest. He was not much scalded, but one of his thighs was broken, and a principal artery had been severed, from which the blood was gushing rapidly. He betrayed no displeasure at the apparent neglect with which he was treated-he was perfectly calm. I spoke to him; he said "he was very weak; he felt himself going-it would soon be over." A gentleman ran for one of the physicians; he came, and declared that, if expedition were used, he might be preserved by amputating the limb; but that, to effect this, it would be necessary to remove him from the boat. Unfortunately the boat was not sufficiently near to run a plank ashore. We were obliged to wait until it could be close hauled. I stood by him calling for help: we placed him on a mattress, and bore him to the guards; there we were detained some time, from the cause I have mentioned. Never did any thing appear to me so slow as the movements of those engaged in hauling

the boat.

I knew, and he knew, that delay was death -that life was fast ebbing. I could not take my gaze from his face-there all was coolness and resignation. No word or gesture indicative of impatience escaped him. He perceived, by my loud, and, perhaps, angry tone of voice, how much I was excited by what I thought the barbarous slowness of those around; he begged me not to take so much trouble; that they were doing their best. At length we got him on shore-it was too late-he was too much exhausted, and died immediately after the amputation.

So soon as I was relieved from attending on those in the cabin, I went to examine that part of the boat where the boiler had burst. It was a complete wreck-a picture of destruction. It bore ample testimony of the tremendous force of that power which the ingenuity of man has brought to his aid. The steam had given every thing a whitish hue-the boilers were displaced-the deck had fallen down-the machinery was broken and disordered. Bricks, dirt, and rubbish, were scattered about. Close by the bowsprit was a large rent, through which, I was told, the boiler, after exploding, had passed out, carrying one or two men in its mouth. Several dead bodies were lying around; their fate had been an enviable one compared with that of others-they could scarcely have been conscious of a pang ere they had ceased to be. On the starboard wheel-house lay a human body, in which life was not yet extinct, though, apparently, there was no sensibility remaining. The body must have been thrown from the boiler deck, a distance of thirty feet.

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Several died from inhaling the steam or gas, whose skin was almost uninjured.

The number of lives lost, will, in all probability, never be distinctly known. Many were seen flung into the river, most of whom sunk to rise no more. Could the survivors have been kept together until the list of passengers was called, the precise loss would have been ascertained; that, however, though it had been attempted, would, under the circumstances, have been next to impossible.

Judging from the crowd which I saw on the boiler deck immediately before the explosion, and the statement which I received as to the number of those who succeeded in swimming out after they were cast into the river, I am inclined to think that between forty and fifty must have perished.

The cabin passengers escaped owing to the peculiar construction of the boat. Just behind the boilers were several large iron posts, supporting, I think, the boiler deck; across each post was a large circular plate of iron, of

between one and two inches in thickness. One

of those posts was placed exactly opposite the head of the boiler which burst, being the second one on the starboard side. Against this plate the head struck and penetrated to the depth of an inch, then broke and flew off at an angle, entering a cotton bale to the depth of a foot. The boiler head was in point blank range with the breakfast table in the cabin, and had it not been obstructed by the iron post must have made a clear sweep of those who were seated at the table.

To render any satisfactory account of the cause which produced the explosion, can hardly be expected from one who possesses no scientific or practical knowledge on the subject, and who previously thereto was paying no attention to the management of the boat. The captain appeared to be very active and diligent in attending to his duty. He was on the boiler deck when the explosion occurred; was materially injured by that event; and must have been ignorant of the mismanagement, if any there was.

From the engineer alone could the true explanation be afforded; and, if indeed it was really attributable to negligence, it can scarcely be supposed he will lay the blame on himself. If I might venture a suggestion in relation thereto, I would assign the following causes: That the water in the starboard boil ers had become low, in consequence of that side of the boat resting upon the ground during our stay at Memphis; that, though the fires were kept up some time before we shoved off, that the head which burst had been cracked for a considerable time; that the boiler was extremely heated, and the water, thrown in when the boat was again in motion, was,at once converted into steam, and the Aues not being sufficiently large to carry it off as quickly as it was generated, nor the boiler head of a strength capable of resisting its action, the explosion

was a natural result.

I assume this proposition to be correctthat, in every case where a boiler bursts, it is fair to infer that it proceeded from neglect, until the contrary shall be proved.

A Cabin Passenger on board the Helen M Gregor. Washington City, 26th March, 1830..

SIR HARRY HIGHFLYER:

A Suicide's Last Carouse. (Concluded from page 100.)

The guests were all assembled, and Laurent announced that dinner was served.

"Let Mr. Maxwell know," said Sir Harry. "Mr. Maxwell, Sare, beg you shall not wait for him. He go home for something he forget, but shall return before the soup be remove."' A knock at once announced the return of Mr. Maxwell, so that no delay occurred.

"

Sir Harry Highflyer, as is well known, was one of the most agreeable table-companions of the day. He was a man of ready and pleasant wit; and, whatever may have been his faults at other times and in other places, (and numerous and grave indeed they were,) he was faultless at the head of his own table. Never the retailer of other men's stories, and seldom the hero of his own, he entertained a mortal aversion for your mere story-teller. "The original sin," he used to say, "has entailed a curse on all the pleasures of life, and storytelling is the curse of conviviality. The nonsense of the moment is a thousand times preferable to the most exquisite piece of wit, ready cut and dried for the occasion, that ever was uttered, or the best ready-made story that was ever told." He held noise to be subversive of mirth (of cheerfulness it certainly is), instead of an assistant to, or an evidence of, it: and, strange as it may appear, he could not endure a coarse joke, or an obscene story. "Let us," he once said, "let us show some consideration for the necessities of our inferiors: let us abandon to tinkers such incentives to mirth-the poor devils require some

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thing as a relish to their beer; we shall lose nothing by the surrender; for, for my part, I can't fancy that they go well with the elegant, delicate flavour of fine wine." To do Sir Harry justice, he was not a beast.

The dinner went off pretty much in the same way as dinners of the kind generally do. But some circumstances occurred, of too remarkable a character to pass without mention. It is true that, with the exception of Mr. Maxwell, they made no very deep impression on any one present; yet, at one or two of those circumstances, not one of the party but felt, more or less acutely, what might, not inaptly, be termed a momentary shock of astonishment. No one could be a fairer talker than Sir Harry: he allowed opportunity to every one for taking his share in the conversation; he never, as it were, elbowed himself in; but availed himself adroitly, and apparently without effort, of the first opening. Upon this occasion, however, he talked through every one that attempted to speak; he talked almost incessantly; and, indeed, seemed to be uneasy when he was constrained even to a short interval of silence. He spoke, too, in a loud, overpowering tone of voice, altogether contrary to his usual habit; and his gaiety, ordinarily so distinguished by its suavity and its subordination to the dictates of good taste, was boisterous in the extreme, and sought to maintain itself by a recourse to expedients tho most common-place. Again, it was observed that, oftener than once, he filled a bumper, drank it off, and filled again before he passed the wine.

There was some question about arranging a Vauxhall party for the following evening, and Mr. Maurice B-, not perceiving that their host was whispering Laurent, who had just entered the room with a message to him, turned round and abruptly inquired," Highflyer, where shall you be to-morrow night?" Sir Harry, turning suddenly at the question, fixed his eyes (which seemed to distend to twice their natural size) on the speaker, set his teeth firmly together, and uttered a short, convulsive, fiend-like laugh, as his only reply; at the same time grasping Laurent by the fleshy part of the arm. A death-like silence ensued; not a soul present but felt a thrill of horror! Lord Dashmore, indeed, who was raising his glass to his lips, involuntarily threw it upwards with such force, that it struck the ceiling and fell in fragments to the ground. Poor Laurent, sinking almost on his knees, while tears of agony were forced from his eyes, naturally and pathetically cried out in his own language, "Mais, mon Dieu! Monsieur, vous me faites mal-vous me faites mal, vous dis-je." Sir Harry relinquished his hold, drew his hand across his forehead, filled a bumper, carelessly reproached Colonel D, who was assisting him in the duties of the table, with exposing the bottles to an attack of the cramp for want of motion, and, quite contrary to his custom, volunteered to sing a song. All this occurred in infinitely less time than it has occupied to describe it; and notwithstanding the sensation was powerful, yet so rapidly had the scene which occasioned it passed, that it was extinct before the next bumper went round.

Sir Harry became-gayer? no-more boisterous than before.

Sir Charles F remarked that they were thirteen at table! "Then one amongst us is booked for within the year," said Colonel D—, laughingly.

"A hundred guineas to five, I am the man," said Sir Harry.

"Done "exclaimed Lord Dashmore, at the same time drawing out his pocket-book for the purpose of entering the bet: "and in a twelvemonth and a day, I shall wait upon you for a cool hundred-for you'll lose."

"Tis no bet, Dashmore," said Sir Harry, with a bitter smile, which no one but Maxwell noticed; "'tis no bet, so don't book it: no man is justified in making a bet when he knows himself sure of winning.”

It was growing late. Some one looked at his watch and observed that it was almost time

to break up. "Don't think of leaving me yet," said Sir Harry-"for God's sake.' And he rang for more wine, together with anchovy toasts, broiled bones, and other provocatives to drinking. To most present, the form of his appeal seemed odd; to Maxwell it appeared awful!

But the last, and most striking occurrence, of the night, is now to be related. Sir Harry, it has already been said, exhibited manifest signs of impatience at even the short intervals of silence to which the give-and-take of conversation occasionally subjected him. They threw him back upon his own reflections. A question being put to Colonel D-respecting the storming of Badajoz, he described just so much of it as had come immediately under his own observation (for he had been engaged in it); and with so much force, vivacity, and picturesque effect was his short narrative imbued, that it engrossed the attention of all present. It could not have occupied longer than three minutes; yet, when the Colonel had ceased speaking, it was observed that Sir Harry was leaning with his elbow on the table and his forehead in his hand. "The Baronet's off," said some one, and laughed. Sir Harry started at the sound, mechanically filled his glass, and sent the wine on.- What the deuce is the matter with you, Highflyer?" exclaimed another; " your cravat is covered with blood!"-" Nothing"-replied he, putting his handkerchief to his mouth-" Nothing-a scratch-nothing-nothing-fill-fill, and send the wine about."-His appearance was ghastly: his features were distorted, his face was deadly pale, and the blood was streaming from his nether lip, which in the intensity of mental agony he had unconsciously bitten nearly through!

I have not seen the Baronet so much cut," whispered Colonel D to Lord Dashmore, who was sitting next to him, "since the hard bout we had at Melton last year. Let's be off."

As the party retired, the successive "Good night" of each fell upon Sir Harry's ear like a death-knell! It struck like an ice-bolt to his heart! He was a man of "unquestionable courage," as we have seen, but he could not stand it; and as the three or four last were preparing to leave the room, he cut short their valedictions by hastily saying, "That'll do, that'll do." Maxwell was the last to retire. Sir Harry grasped his hand, and held it firmly till he heard the street door close upon the rest. "Now you may go, Tom; those are mere friends of the hour, but you and I have been friends from children. You knew my poor father, and he loved you. There"-and he shook his hand warmly-" there--now goGood night; Heaven bless you, Tom, Heaven bless you. Go-go." Maxwell, as he went out, said to Laurent, "It is probable your master will not ring for you very early to-morrow; be sure you suffer no one to approach him till I come.'

"Ma parole, Sare, I sall not be ver' glad to go to him ver' soon-cndeed he make de blood come out to my arm. I take him for wild cat."

then approached the dressing-table; took the | letters he had written in the morning, and the phial of laudanum, from the drawer wherein he had deposited them; and having spread out the former in such a manner that they could not fail to be seen by any one who should come few seconds. He then uncorked the phialinto the room the next day-he paused for a transfixed, for nearly a minute-staggered toswallowed its contents-stood motionless, as if wards a sofa-and fell senseless on it.

Now if any one should say that Mr. Maxwell, with the suspicions he entertained, or, Harry's intention, acted unwarrantably-heartrather, the knowledge he possessed of Sir lessly-wickedly-in leaving him to carry it him is that-perhaps he had very good reasons into execution, the only defence I can offer for speedily as possible from the odious charge of for acting as he did. But to relieve him as conniving at so horrible a deed, it will be as well at once to explain what those reasons

were.

Although the friendly intercourse which had
hitherto subsisted between these gentlemen
had ceased for nearly a twelvemonth prior to
the period in question, Maxwell, nevertheless,
ceedings of the son of his benefactor. He was
with considerable anxiety watched the pro-
aware of the ruinous modes of raising money
mained in his possession which he could either
resorted to by Sir Harry, whilst any thing re-
of the distressing facts that not only even
mortgage or sell; and he was now also aware
those means were exhausted, but that Sir
Harry was inextricably in debt. It happened
one morning that, being with his solicitor upon
business of his own, that gentleman put into
his hands certain papers left for inspection
documents connected with a transfer of some
with him by one of his clients. They were
part of Sir Harry's property to a person from
whom he had long been in the habit of raising
the supplies. Maxwell presently perceived,
what his solicitor intended he should be in-
fraud had been practised upon his inconside-
formed of, that, in that transaction, an obvious
mine into other transactions of a similar kind;
rate friend. This discovery led him to exa-
and the result of his various investigations was
a conviction that a vast portion of the property
obtained from Sir Harry by mal-practices of a
might fairly be recovered, since it had been
much graver complexion than the mere infrac
tion of the Usury Laws.

Having, after several consultations with
his solicitor, decided as to the course to be
adopted, he resolved, in spite of their late es-
trangement, to pay a visit to his quondam
friend, and communicate the pleasing intelli-
gence to him. On his way thither he met Mr.
Leslie, who told him of the dinner-party for
that day. "I'm glad of it," said Maxwell," for
I have something to tell him which will give a
zest to his wine." But scarcely had he enter-
ed the Baronet's dressing-room-(Sir Harry's
astonishment at his visit, and his manner of
receiving him, have already been described)
when he was attacked by one of those vague-
undefinable-unaccountable apprehensions of
approaching evil which every one, perhaps,
has, at some time or other, experienced. Why,
he scarcely knew; but he at once determined
till the following day and still less could he
to delay the communication he had to make
tell why, at the same instant he resolved upon
not quitting Sir Harry for the rest of that af
ternoon. It was upon taking this latter resolu-
tion that he requested permission to send for
his things to dress there.

They were mistaken who thought that Sir Harry was cut-in plain English, drunk: excepting Maxwell-whose situation throughout the evening, by the by, had not been the most enviable-he was the only sober man of the party. The prodigious quantity of wine he had swallowed produced no more effect upon him, in the way of intoxication, than if it had been water: he carried an antidote to it in his mind. Left to himself, he filled a large goblet with claret, which he took off at a draught.gency, where He then desired Laurent to give him a taper, told him he had no occasion for his attendance that night, shook him by the hand, (which condescension the poor fellow conceived to be intended as a set-off against the gripe he had received,) walked steadily into his dressing room, and locked and bolted the door. He

The rest is soon told.
We know very well that in cases of emer-
we suddenly find ourselves
thrown unassisted upon our own resources, and
feel that something must be done, our thoughts
succeed each other with such amazing rapidity
that we seem to jump at conclusions without
any intermediate train of reasoning. But it is
not so; the process does take place; the dif-
ference is, our thoughts express themselves, if

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I may so say, in pictures instead of words. If any one who has found himself so situated will take the trouble to recollect his sensations at words, but that a variety of pictures,-scenes the time, he will find that he did not think in and that by a sort of instinct he pounced upon of various modes of action, presented themselves almost simultaneously to his mind's eye, the right one. This is something of what is usually understood by that rare quality called presence of mind :-a commodity which a certain worthy gentleman once declared never prise, but had time to turn the matter over in failed him, provided he were not taken by surhis head.

window; nor did he rush into the drawingMaxwell did not throw the poison out at bind Sir Harry hand and foot; nor did he reroom, with his face pale and his hair standing on-end; nor did he call upon the company to monstrate with him upon the folly as well as the wickedness of terminating his own existence; hor did he even betray the slightest hint intention. He knew his man; and he was conthat he was aware of his entertaining such an scious, therefore, that his interference in any manner, though it might delay, would not prevent the act; he perceived, too, that he was day, in a state of mind to listen to his edifying not then, nor likely to be, for the rest of that taking one means of self-destruction out of the expostulations, and he felt convinced, that by hands of a man desperate and resolved like him, he should only be forcing him to the adoption of some other. But he took a much wiser chemist's, whose address he found on the label course than any of those. He drove to the which was put into a small bottle of precisely of the phial, and procured a composing draught, the same appearance as the more mischievous one he had removed. He then returned the dressing-room, placed the mixture where to street, walked leisurely up-stairs into he knew it would be sought for, descended, and took his seat at the dinner-table as quietly as if nothing in the world had happened.

by a side-door the baronet had neglected to By eight o'clock the next morning Maxwell was in Sir Harry's room, which he entered sleep, from which he did not awake till three fasten. He found his friend in a profound o'clock of the same afternoon. It were needless to relate all that passed upon this occasion. Suffice it, that having explained to Sir Harry the hopes he entertained of recovering for him a large portion of his property, Maxwell found no difficulty whatever in persuading him to withdraw immediately from London, and to retire to a small place of his near the town of in Wales, till, by the exercise of a rigid economy, he might be able to relieve himself from his embarrassments. That he, a gay man of the town, should so readily have adopted a suggestion which seemed to imply the entire life, will appear the less extraordinary when it abandonment of the habits of his whole former is mentioned that he has been heard to declare, that he would endure starvation, beggary, ter the horrors of that last carouse. misery in any shape, rather than again encoun

-

MOVING PANORAMA.

[From Arnott's Physics.]

"It is remarkable," says Dr. Arnott, "when the imagination is once excited by some beauhint produces clear and strong impressions. tiful or striking view, how readily any visual One day in the cosmorama, a school-boy visiter exclaimed that he saw a monstrous tiger coming from its den among the rocks;it was a kitten belonging to the attendant, paintings. And another young spectator was which by accident had strayed among the heard calling that he saw a horse galloping up ing slowly along the canvass. the mountain side;-it was a minute fly crawlthis department a very fine field yet open to There is in the exercise of ingenuity, for the contempla

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dential, led to his final settlement amongst a
people who have long manifested an affection-
ate attachment to him, and now sincerely la-
ment the loss of their" guide, philosopher, and
friend." No visitation of death has for many
years occasioned such an excitement of feeling,
in Ongar and its vicinity, as that which con-
signed the venerable Isaac Taylor to the silent
tomb. When the melancholy intelligence was
publicly announced, all seemed, more or less,
personally affected by it; and all were prompt
to shed blessings on his memory. At his bu-
rial, no fewer than thirty unfeigned mourners
composed the funeral train, which was farther
augmented by a very large crowd, of both
townspeople and villagers, whom respect for
the deceased had attracted to his obsequies.
Numbers, too, of his congregation, testified
their affectionate esteem, by instantly assum-
ing the "sable garb of woe," or going into
mourning, as it is termed, on his account.
Though there was no reason to expect that the
complaint, which at length terminated his ex-
istence, could be effectually counteracted or
remedied, yet the blow of death was unlooked
for at the time when it was given; as Mr. Tay-
lor had walked about the town, and paid seve-
ral casual visits on the day previous to that of
his decease. His last public discourse was, we
learn, of a deeply interesting and affectionate
character. It seemed almost like a prognostic
of the event which shortly after removed the
aged pilgrim of Christ to his everlasting rest.
The lamp of his earthly affections burned
brightly to the last, and was extinguished for
a moment, only to be instantaneously relumed
at the throne of the Eternal.

tous course of philosophical lectures at his own house, to which he invited the attendance of his friends." There is something almost af fecting in the consideration that, even at his advanced age, he lost not that eager desire to communicate knowledge, to quicken the germ of youthful thought, which had characterized him through life. It is rare to meet with so venerable a philosophical experimenter. But, indeed, it was essential to his happiness that he should be ever promoting the cause of practical usefulness. This was the end he ever kept in view, whether in the parlour or in the pulpit. His style of preaching was somewhat peculiar, and unadapted to what are termed popular audiences. He was an admirer of many of the old divines, and was quite willing to sacrifice the merit of elegance to that of impressive force. He hence exhibited a quaint and sententious kind of diction, in which, however, was embraced much solid and valuable thought. He was very figurative, though by no means florid. He drew his illustrations "from the most simple images in nature, and the most familiar occurrences in human life."

tion of pictures representing motion or progressive events, may be made the occasion of mental excitement the most varied and intense. For instance, there are few scenes on earth calculated to awaken more interesting reflections on the condition of human nature than that beheld by a person who sails along the river Thames from London to the sea, a distance of about sixty miles, through the wonders which on every side there crowd on the sight the forest of ships from all parts of the world-the glorious monuments of industry, of philanthropy, of science-the marks of the riches, the high civilization, and the happiness of the people. Now this scene was last year, in one of our theatres, strikingly pourtrayed by what was called a moving panorama of the southern bank of the Thames. It was a very long painting, of which a part only was seen at a time gliding slowly across the stage, and the impression made on the spectators was, that of their viewing the realities while sailing down the river in a steam-boat. In the same manner the whole coast of Britain might be most interestingly represented-or any other coast, or any line of road, or even a line of balloon flight. There was another moving panorama exhibited about the same time at Spring Gardens, aiming at an object of still greater difficulty, viz. to depict a course of human life; and the history chosen was that of the latter part of Bonaparte's career. Scenes representing the principal events were, in succession, and apparently on the same canvass, made to glide across the field of view, so designed that the real motion of the picture gave to the spectator the feeling of the events being only then in progress, and with the accompaniments, of clear narration and suitable music they produced on those who viewed them the most complete illusion. The story began with the blow struck at Bonaparte's ambition in the battle of Trafalgar, and to mark how complete-mesticated character, his years generally pass-loquial, though constantly bestudded with well

ly, by representations of various moments and situations of the battle, the spectators were in imagination made present to it. The author of this work may mention, that on the occasion of his visiting the exhibition, a young man seeing a party of British preparing to board an enemy's ship, started from his seat with a hurra, and seemed quite surprised when he found that he was not really in the battle. To the first views there succeeded many others, similarly introduced and explained, in each of which the hero himself apppeared: there were, his defeat at Waterloo-his subsequent flight -his delivery of himself to the British Admiral-his appearing at the gangway of the Bellerophon to thousands of spectators, waiting in boats around, while he was in Plymouth harbour, previous to his departure for ever from the shores of Europe-his house and habits during his exile, with various views of St. Helena; and last of all, that solemn procession, in which the bier, with his lifeless corpse, appeared moving slowly on its way to the grave under the willow-tree. The exhibition now spoken of might have been made much better in all respects, yet in its mediocrity it served to prove how admirably adapted such unions of painting, music, and narration, or poetry, are to affect the mind, and therefore to become the means of conveying most impressive lessons of historical fact, and moral principle."

REV. ISAAC TAYLOR.

THIS amiable man, and very useful writer, died December 12th, 1829, at Ongar, in Essex, in the 71st year of his age. For thirty-two years he had presided over the independent church and congregation of that place, and previously to his establishment there, he had sustained a similar charge at Colchester. Before his removal to Ongar, exertions were made to secure his pastoral service at Plaistow, in Essex; but from some cause or other, the negotiations for that purpose failed, and a conjunction of circumstances, which he ever regarded as provi

We regret our inability to furnish an accurate chronological sketch of those events in Mr. T.'s life, which may be termed the epochs of his existence. This may, however, be the less necessary, since, from his thoroughly doed away in undisturbed uniformity.

Any father would have derived honour from the eminence of two such writers as Jane Taylor* and Isaac Taylor, junior, But Mr. T. may stand on his own merits as an author, and claim, at least, an eulogium which it would be happy for the world if many writers of more splendid talents were ambitious to deserve. He set all the energies of his soul at work to do good, and appears never to have written a page in which he lost sight of that object. This is praise indeed, which the ladylike array of fine words, and the bijouterie of spangled sentences were well neglected to attain. We are far from saying that he could not write with elegance, for he often, indisputably, did; but this is by no means the general characteristic of his style, which is plain, homely, and col

conceived metaphors, gushing up like fantastical brooks amid tracts of useful arable land, in places where one would not expect to find them. He stops not at the most whimsical and ludicrous expressions for his ideas, if he can thereby give force to his meaning. After delineating, in his valuable work, "Self Cultivation recommended;" the features of an indo

Mr. T., and nearly all his children, were accustomed to use the burin as well as the pen, and Boydell's fine illustrations of Holy Writ, consisting of a series of 100 copperplate engravings, were designed by his son Isaac, and executed (we believe entirely) by himself and family. Some of these plates have been considered, by competent judges, fully equal, both in design and workmanship, to many of Mar- The writer of this notice hopes to be partin's most admired compositions. With re- doned, for a brief digression relative to Miss J. spect to his domestic life, we learn, that he was Taylor, which may be interesting, at least, to a rigid economist of time, and quite an enthu- some readers. He was residing, a few years siast in his love of order and punctuality. If back, for a short time at Olney, in Buckingfive minutes ever elapsed between the proper hamshire, and in the course of a ramble one period of dinner and that of its being ready, he afternoon, through Weston Park, he at length would, on sitting down, say, "Now I have lost reached the recess, now universally named five minutes, and Mrs. Taylor has lost five mi- "Cowper's Alcove;" which, with the beautiful nutes, and these (enumerating the rest of the avenue opposite to it in the distance, that poet family) have each lost five minutes; and, (sup- so charmingly describes in his "Task." Before posing there were six in company) so we have sitting down, the writer's eye happened to lost a whole half hour by the want of punctuali-glance upon the back of the seat, where it has ty." This way of calculating the time lost, used sometimes to astonish the poor cook, who did not altogether understand such nice computations. He was, we are told by a fair friend who was slightly acquainted with him, a "social and instructive companion: his conversation was habitually distinguished by the introduction of remarks of a useful tendency, containing much point, and expressed in his native simplicity of manner." He was ever a strong advocate for liberal and enlightened education; and being a great favourite of the young, he took advantage of his influence to press upon them the improvement of their minds, and the unceasing acquisition of knowledge. Nor did he confine himself merely to pointing out the road, and directing them to walk in it. He extended a helping hand to all who were willing to labour for themselves; and, indeed, statedly devoted some hours to the instruction of a few young friends, in whose mental advancement he took a kind interest. This feature of his character is still further heightened by the fact, that "only a short time previous to his death, he commenced the delivery of a gratui

become customary for visiters to inscribe their
names, and his delight at noticing the follow-
ing couplet, in pencil, may be easily imagined
by all who are admirers of Miss T.'s writings:
Where Cowper wrote, what feebler hand shall
try?-
Yet to his lov'd remains we breathe a sigh.

Jane Taylor, Ongar.

There was considerable pleasure in the thought, that a kindred spirit to Cowper's had been here to muse over his memory. These two celebrated writers had much in common. They were both keen satirists, but their manner was different. The lady abounded in laughing raillery, and she rather aimed at particular points of character; he, too, exhibited much gaiety, but not in his satire, which was mostly directed against general principles. This is not, however, the place (even if it were neces sary) to balance their respective merits. If it be said, that Jane Taylor could not have written "The Task," the counterpart of this assertion may incontrovertibly be, that Cowper could never have produced "Display."

lent and careless mind, he says, "A lost character this. Intellectuality is frozen up. The mind dozes and snores, or if at all aroused, it is to set itself a-kimbo against instruction, and, finally, to resist and resent every attempt to communicate useful or honourable emulation." Many similar quaintnesses are to be found both in the work just quoted and in its companion, "Advice to the Teens." We mention them to illustrate the original character of the man; by no means to depreciate the sterling excellence of his little volumes. He was evidently, from the minutia of particulars which his preceptive instructions comprehend, a very acute observer of human life. It is not asserted that he made any new discoveries; but he obtained a clearer view than many others of the innumerable causes which tend to modify and to form the character; and there are few of these influences which he has not enumerated in the above mentioned works. He wrote, besides, several small volumes, entitled, " Scenes in all the Four Quarters of the Globe, intended for little tarry-at-home Travellers;" these are of course intended merely for children. They are lively and attractive. Mr. T.'s works exclusively on theological topics were very few. The only one to which our memory instantaneously refers us, is, "The Balance of Criminality," in which the subject of the guilt incurred by spiritual unbelief is investigated.

BIRDS.

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY.

Thrice happy Bird, I, too, have seen
Much of the vanities of men;

And, sick of having seen 'em,
Would cheerfully these limbs resign
For such a pair of wings as thine,
And such a head between 'em.
Cowper, to the Jackdaw.

THE SWALLOW.

SWALLOW, why homeward turn'd thy joyful wing?

In a far land I heard the voice of spring; I found myself that moment on the way; My wings, my wings, they had not power to stay.

SKYLARKS.

What hand lets fly the Skylark from his rest? -That which detains his mate upon the nest; Love sends him soaring to the fields above; She broods below, all bound with cords of love.

THE CUCKOO.

Why art thou always welcome, lonely bird? -The heart grows young again when I am heard ;

Nor in my double note the magic lies, But in the fields and woods, the streams and skies.

THE REDBREAST.

Familiar warbler, wherefore art thou come? -To sing to thee when all beside are dumb; Pray let your little children drop a crumb.

THE SPARROW.

Sparrow, the gun is levell'd; quit that wall. -Without the will of Heaven I cannot fall.

THE RINGDOVE.

Art thou the bird that saw the waters cease? -Yes, and brought home the olive branch of peace;

Thenceforth, I haunt the woods of thickest green,

Pleased to be often heard and seldom seen,

THE NIGHTINGALE.

Minstrel, what makes thy song so sad, yet sweet?

-Love, love, where agony and rapture meet; Oh! 'tis the dream of happiness, to feign Sorrow in joy, and court a thorn for pain.*

THE WATER WAGTAIL.

What art thou made of,-air, or light, or dew? -I have not time to tell you, if I knew;

It is an ancient, but of course a figurative saying, that the nightingale leans his breast on the point of a thorn while singing.

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This is my charter to the boundless skies,"Stoop not to earth, on pain no more to rise."

THE WOODLARK.

Thy notes are silenced, and thy pinions mew'd;
Say, drooping minstrel, both shall be renew'd!
-Voice will return, I cannot choose but sing;
Yet liberty alone can plume my wing:
Oh! give me that:-I cannot, will not, fly
Within a cage less ample than the sky;
Then shalt thou hear, as if an angel sung,
Unseen in air, heaven's music from my tongue.
Oh! give me that I cannot rest at ease
On meaner perches than the forest trees;
There, in thy walk, while evening shadows
roll,

My song shall melt into thy very soul;
But, till thou let thy captive bird depart,
The sweetness of my strains shall wring thy

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[From the Lady's Magazine.]

Mother's Reward to Children.-Mothers, can you not teach your children the art of doing good? It is only to aid, by your examnoblest faculties of your children-the affecple as well as precepts, the development of the tions, reason, conscience; while, you repress, as much as possible, the selfishness of animal instinct-of appetite. Begin early. You have the key of their affections-open their little hearts only to sweet impressions of love, which is benevolence. Never hire them with money to perform their tasks of any kind. If you have managed them rightly, they will do your requirements for you because they love you. Give gifts to your children as often as you think best; but never pay them for being good. Let the consciousness that they have done good, have gained knowledge, and that you approve their conduct, be their reward.

the purpose of witnessing its machinery. ImaA lady lately visited a school of infants, for gino her surprise at the following exhibitionSchool-mistress (unfolding an umbrella)– "What is this, my dear?" "An umbrella, Ma'am." "How many kingdoms does it contain?" "Three." "What are they?" "Animal, mineral, and vegetable." "Name the animal." "Walebone." "The mineral.""The brass." "The vegetable." "The cotton." [Kingdoms! Fudge!]

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