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THE LATE DUEL.

FROM the subjoined official document, it will be perceived that ALL the naval officers concerned in the recent murderous duel, have been dismissed the service of the United States. Our venerable and paternal President has acted on this occasion with the energy, decision, and correct moral perception which characterizes him. The influence of this example will be felt throughout the nation. Not only has public justice in the particular case been vindicated, at least so far as the government of the Union can reach the culprits, but a beacon has been held up to future offenders, warning them, that ruin and disgrace are the inevitable consequences of such criminality. In pursuing the course he has adopted in this instance, President Jackson has shown that he properly appreciates his constitutional obligation to see the laws faithfully executed; and that those who violate them need expect nothing from him but strict and inflexible justice. The prompt and unequivocal manner in which the amiable and excellent citizen at the head of the Naval Department has submitted this matter to the President, entitles him to the grateful regard and esteem of an injured community.-American Sentinel.

(COPY.)

Navy Department, March 30th, 1830. Sir, It has been proved to my satisfaction, that Lieutenants EDMUND BYRNE, and HAMPTON WESTCOTT, passed Midshipman CHARLES H. DURYEE, and Midshipman CHARLES G. HUNTER, of the Navy of the United States, were recently concerned in a DUEL, which took place between the last named officer and WILLIAM MILLER, jr. of Philadelphia, which resulted fatally to the latter. I respectfully recommend to you, that the names of the said officers, EDMUND BYRNE, HAMPTON WESTCOTT, CHARLES H. DURYEE, and CHARLES G. HUNTER, be erased from the list of officers of the Navy of the United States.

I am, very respectfully, &c.

JOHN BRANCH.

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CASTLEREAGH AND BYRON.

[From the Daily Chronicle.]

THE political character and conduct of the late Marquess of Londonderry, during the long period through which he was a leading member of the British government, were constantly attacked, both in and out of Parliament, with unrelenting severity. Perhaps no statesman, in any country, ever combated more unrelenting antagonists. Yet, during his life, and while the animosity of his assailants was naturally exacerbated by his steady and successful defiance, the purity of his private life shielded him from personal reproach. In the House of Commons, where he spoke more frequently than almost any other man (perhaps Fox is the only exception) who ever sat there, the most zealous of the opposition bore frequent testimony to the excellence of his temper and the courtesy of his deportment. Mr. Whitbread, displaying on all occasions, an absolute detestation of his political system, once gravely complained to the Speaker and the House, that it was impossible to assail the minister in such terms as justice called for, so uniformly winning was his personal conduct. Even fiercer enemies were silenced by his melancholy death. His mind broke down under the cares and toils of a most embarrassing and laborious post, and the horrors of a diseased imagination drove him to suicide.

His public life was of course reviewed by writers of all parties, and scanned with becoming freedom; but even they who censured with most asperity lamented the calamity which had led to his dreadful end. Even Hunt and

Cobbett were ashamed to scoff. Lord Byron alone found food for merriment, and, in one of those poems which criticism is stigmatized for condemning, because their author is no more, sneered at him as the "carotid-arterycutting Castlereagh." We are not disposed to justify Hunt for revealing the vices of one who was for a time his intimate companion, and from whom he had received favours; but when held up to contempt by Byron's admiring biographer, as a malignant reviler of the dead, the line that we have just quoted might have served him as an effectual retort.

Byron yet lives in his works; of which no one, expecting to be read in decent society, will venture to say that a large portion has not been written in absolute scorn of all that the world holds sacred. While his name retains its popularity, it is the critic's duty to speak with as much freedom of his character as of his productions.

LIEUTENANT LUFF.

All you that are fond of wine,
Or any other stuff,
Take warning by the dismal fate
Of one Lieutenant Luff.
A sober man he might have been
Except in one regard-
He did not like soft water,

So he took to drinking hard.
Said he, let others fancy slops,
And talk in praise of tea,
But I am no Bohemian,

So do not like BoheaIf wine's a poison so is tea,

Though in another shape;
What matter whether one is killed
By canister or grape ?
According to this kind of taste
Did he indulge his drouth,
And being fond of port, he made
A port-hole of his mouth!
A single pint he might have sipped,
And not been out of sorts;
In geologic phrase, the rock

He split upon was quartz.
To "hold the mirror up to vice".
With him was hard, alas!
The worse for wine he often was,
But not "before a glass!"
No kind and prudent friend he had
To bid him drink no more;
The only chequers in his course
Were at a tavern door!

Full soon the sad effects of this
His frame began to show,
For that old enemy the gout
Had taken him in toe,
And joined with this an evil came
Of quite another sort,

For while he drank, himself his purse
Was getting" something short."
For want of cash he soon had pawned
One half that he possessed,
And drinking showed him duplicates
Beforehand of the rest.

So now his creditors resolved
To seize on his assets,
For why, they found that his half pay
Did not half pay his debts.
But Luff contrived a novel mode
His creditors to chouse,
For his own execution he

Put into his own house!
A pistol to the muzzle charged,
He took devoid of fear,'
Said he, "this barrel is my last,
So now for my last bier."
Against his lungs he aimed the slugs,
And not against his brain;
So he blew out his lights, and none
Could blow them in again!
A jury for the verdict met,

And gave it in these terms"We find as how as certain slugs Has sent him to the worms.”

FIVE DOLLARS REWARD. We are requested by a subscriber to offer a reward of five dollars for an intelligible explanation of the following lines, cut from a country paper. The poem from which they are extracted is entitled "Light and Sound." The author of course is not to be allowed to explain.-N. Y. Com. Adv.

OCEAN.

O'er field of waves from shrubless beach,
While idlers judge "the sail,"
Some anxious eyes intently reach-
To fall at answer'd hail!

Then ocean's swell is up! Wild flies
The scar'd gull's meaning scream,
That watery world adventure plies,
Outvieth fancy's dream.

My Early Days-An Extract.-Having arrived at what was considered a suitable age, I made my appearance with eighty-two others at Cambridge, as a candidate for admission to the literary arena. In the course of my examination in Greek, which branch was conducted by the professor of theology, with his usual abili ty, I came to the phrase, in Anacreon, "ugron udor," which I translated moisture, but the learned professor immediately corrected me by substituting "wet water." I felt a strong inclination to ask if the astute professor's researches in antiquity had made him acquainted with any species of water that was not wet; but checked myself, and was passed to the professor of mathematics, who asked me abruptly, how much is twice two? to which I answered, after some hesitation," four." Question second followed like a flash of lightning, "how do you prove that?" This was what cockneys call a settler." After pondering some time, I was obliged to "give it up," and was told, that "twice two made four by the repeated addition of one!" Upon hearing this unexpected elucidation of one of the mysteries of mathematics, I felt an embryo grin distorting the muscles of my countenance. If, however, I was startled by the new ideas I had received in the outset, I was again sorely puzzled at some of the recitations. While the class were struggling through the Abbe Millot's Universal History, the tutor asked one day, "did Cato die?" to which the student, after hastily counting the centuries that had elapsed since the time of Julius Cæsar, and finding it amounted to about nineteen, answered boldly, "yes, sir," taking it for granted that such a staunch friend of republics as Cato, would, if he were alive, have emigrated to the United States, and taken an active part in politics; but it seems he was "clean wrong," for the profound and accurate tutor immediately interrupted him with "no he did not, he killed himself."

EARLY PRINTING IN THE UNITED STATES.

The first printing press in North America was set up in 1639, by Stephen Day, at Cambridge, in Massachusetts.

In 1687, printing was begun near Philadel phia, by William Bradford."

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The Boston News Letter," a weekly paper, was the first newspaper printed in the United States. It was published at Boston, by Bartholomew Green, in the year 1704. This paper was continued by Green and his successors, until 1776, when the British evacuated Boston.

On the 21st December, 1719, the first number of the "Boston Gazette" was published at Boston, by John Franklin.

On the 2d of December, 1719, the first number of the "American Weekly Mercury" was published at Philadelphia, by Andrew Bradford.

In 1721, the "New England Courant" was begun, at Boston, by James Franklin, the brother of Dr. Franklin. This was the fourth paper published in North America.

In 1725, the "New York Gazette" was established in the city of New York, by William Bradford.

In 1726, the first printing was done in Vir.ginia by William Parks.

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In 1728, the Universal Instructor in all Arts and Sciences, and Pennsylvania Gazette," was printed at Philadelphia, being the second paper in this state. It survived until 1823 or 1824, and was then the oldest paper in this Union.

In 1730, Thomas Whitmarsh published a newspaper at Charleston, being the first in either of the Carolinas.

In November, 1733, the first number of the "New York Weekly Journal" was published by John Peter Zenges. It was encouraged by the citizens of New York, as a medium through which they might publish strictures on the government. Zenges was shortly afterwards imprisoned, under a warrant from the Governor and Council, for 35 weeks. Andrew Hamilton, an eminent lawyer of Philadelphia, defended him, and he was acquitted.

In 1740, a printing office was established at Annapolis, in Maryland, by Jonas Green.

On the 1st of January, 1741, the first number of the "General Magazine and Historical Chronicle," was published at Philadelphia, by Dr. Franklin. This was the first literary journal published in the United States.

The "American Magazine and Historical Chronicle" was first published at Boston, 1743, by Rogers & Fowle, being only twelve years after the commencement of the Gentleman's Magazine, the first similar publication in London.

In 1755, the "Connecticut Gazette," the first newspaper in that state, was published at New Haven. In the same year, James Davis published, at Newbern, the first newspaper in North Carolina.

In 1756, the "New Hampshire Gazette" was commenced at Portsmouth, by Daniel Fowle: this paper still survives, and is the oldest now published in New England.

In 1762, the "Providence Gazette" was published in Rhode Island; and in the same year, a German newspaper, "Der Wochentliche Philadelphische Staatsbote," was published in Philadelphia.

In 1763, the "Georgia Gazette," the first newspaper printed in that state, was published at Savannah, by James Johnston: this was the only newspaper published in Georgia before the revolution.

The "Pittsburgh Gazette" was first published, on the 29th of July, 1786, by John Scull, and was the first paper printed west of the Alleghany mountains.

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The Kentucky Gazette" was commenced, by Mr. Bradford, in the beginning of 1787, and was the second paper west of the mountains.

The first printing press north of the Ohio river, was set up in Cincinnati, in 1793.

ONCE UPON A TIME. SUNNY locks of brightest hue Once around my temples grew,Laugh not, Lady! for 'tis true; Laugh not, Lady! for with thee Time may deal despitefully; Time, if long he lead thee here, May subdue that mirthful cheer;" Round those laughing lips and eyes Time may write sad histories; Deep indent that even brow, Change those locks, so sunny now, To as dark and dull a shade, As on mine his touch hath laid. Lady! yes, these locks of mine Cluster'd once, with golden shine, Temples, neck, and shoulders round,' Richly gushing if unbound, If from band and bodkin free, Half way downward to the knee. Some there were took fond delight, Sporting with those tresses bright, To enring with living gold

Fingers now beneath the mould,
(Wo is me!) grown icy cold.

One dear hand hath smooth'd them too,
Since they lost the sunny hue,
Since their bright abundance fell
Under the destroying spell.
One dear hand! the tenderest
Ever nurse-child rock'd to rest,
Ever wiped away its tears.
Even those of later years
From a cheek untimely hollow,
Bitter drops that still may follow,
Where's the hand will wipe away?
Hers I kiss'd--(Ah! dismal day,).
Pale as on the shroud it lay.
Then, methought, youth's latest gleam
Departed from me like a dream-
Still, though lost their sunny tone,
Glossy brown these tresses shone,
Here and there, in wave and ring
Golden threads still glittering;
And (from band and bodkin free)
Still they flow'd luxuriantly.
Careful days, and wakeful nights,
Early trench'd on young delights.
Then of ills, an endless train,
Wasting languor, wearying pain,
Fev'rish thought that racks the brain,
Crowding all on summer's prime,
Made me old before my time.

So a dull, unlovely hue
O'er the sunny tresses grew,
Thinn'd their rich abundance too,
Not a thread of golden light,
In the sunshine glancing bright.
Now again, a shining streak
'Gins the dusky cloud to break ;-
Here and there a glittering thread
Lights the ringlets, dark and dead,-
Glittering light!-but pale and cold-
Glittering thread!—but not of gold.
Silent warning! silvery streak!
Not unheeded dost thou speak.
Not with feelings light and vain—
Not with fond regretful pain,
Look I on the token sent

To announce the day far spent ;-
Dark and troubled hath it been-
Sore misused! and yet between
Gracious gleams of peace and grace
Shining from a better place.
Brighten-brighten, blessed light!
Fast approach the shades of night,-
When they quite enclose me round,
May my lamp be burning found!

COTTAGE POETRY.*

C.

WE like the idea of Cottage Poetry, and it is a kind and benevolent heart only which could have thought of such a title, or written poetry of such a character. The little cheap collection before us has also many of the characteristics which render simple, pastoral poetry agreeable, and several of the pieces might be said to deserve a better place, could they have a better than one in which they are to be found by men of pure and humble minds. The following lines will show how gently our cottage poet plays his oaten pipe.

"The labours of the early day
With richest gain my toil repay;
Both health and appetite I feel,
Best sweeteners of the frugal meal:
With strength restored, I then renew
My duties and my pleasures too:
That duties pleasures are to me,
How grateful, Lord, I ought to be!
"What pure delight, what treasures yield
The grove, the garden, and the field!

* By the Author of "Old Friends in a New Dress." To which is added, a Supplement to "Old Friends in a New Dress," containing twelve additional fables, London:-Smith, Elder, and Co. 1829.

The birds that hail the break of day,
The fragrance of the new mown hay,
The beauties of the varied flowers,
Shining o'er all the beds and bowers,
All tend to raise my thoughts to Thee:
How grateful, Lord, I ought to be!
"And when my daily task is done,
While gazing on the setting Sun,
As its mild radiance fades away,
Hope lingers on its parting ray;
Hope and reliance that to cheer
From day to day, from year to year,
The morrow shall its rising see;
How grateful, Lord, I ought to be!
"O, may I not presumptuous seem,
Attempting too sublime a theme,
But may I, like the obedient Sun,
My earthly course of duty done,
Sink gently into life's decline,
And every thought be wholly thine!
That I dare hope to rise with Thee,
How grateful, Lord, I ought to be!

HYMN.

Our God, our Father, hear.

BY THOMAS PRINGLE.

WHEN morn awakes our hearts,
To pour the matin prayer;
When toil-worn day departs,
And gives a pause to care;
When those our souls love best
Kneel with us, in thy fear,
To ask thy peace and rest-
Our God, our Father, hear!
When worldly snares without,
And evil thoughts within,
Of grace would raise a doubt,
Or lure us back to sin;
When human strength proves frail,
And will but half sincere:
When faith begins to fail-
Our God, our Father, hear!
When in our cup of mirth

The drop of trembling falls,
And the frail props of earth

Are crumbling round our walls: When back we gaze with grief,

And forward glance with fear; When faileth man's relief

Our God, our Father, hear! And when Death's awful hand Unbars the gates of Time, Eternity's dim land

Disclosing, dread, sublime; When flesh and spirit quake Before THEE to appearOh, then, for Jesus' sake,

Our God, our Father, hear!

nearly five hundred members. A portion of Literary Union.-This body has increased to the house in Waterloo-place is already opened, and regularly attended by the society. The objects of the Literary Union are extensive, and will be of singular utility to all who are attached to mental pursuits, or to the company of literary men and artists. A library, a nuseum, soirées, and branch clubs, are among the objects contemplated in the scheme; which is not confined merely to eating, drinking, and reading newspapers. A little time will develop its objects, and show it to be of the highest importance to the classes which it more immediately embraces. Viscount Torrington, John Gibson Lockhart, Esq. T. Barnes, Esq. and Sir George Staunton, Bart. have been added to the committee.

Communications should be addressed to "E. Littell for the Literary Port Folio,"-and subscriptions will be thankfully received by E. Littell & Brother, corner of Chestnut and Seventh streets, Philadelphia. Subscriptions are also received by Thomas C. Clarke, N.W. corner of Chestnut and Seventh streets.

Wanted-to solicit subscriptions for this work, a suitable person. Apply to E. Littell Brother.

No. 15.

PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, APRIL 15,

Terms.-Published every Thursday by E. Littell & concerning supper and bed-to say nothing of

Brother, corner of Chestnut and Seventh Streets, Philadelphia. It will contain four handsome engravings every year. Price Two Dollars and a Half a year, payable in advance.

Agents who procure and forward payment for four subscribers, shall receive the fifth copy for one year; and so in proportion for a larger number.

RED GAP INN. PA

I REMEMBER Well how strongly my boyish feelings were excited at reading the narrative of Raymond's escape from the murderous innkeeper, in Lewis's romance of "The Monk." His version of the story has nearly faded from my memory; but the circumstances upon which he founded it are said to have occurred in Ireland, and, wild and improbable as they are, you shall have them, verbatim, as they are related upon the spot; and, moreover, I am not to blame if you think fit to believe them, inasmuch as I give up my authority-and Lord Lyndhurst himself could ask no more. My informant's name is Catherine Flynn.

As you go from Kilcullen Bridge to Carlow, about three miles on your road there stands, and barely stands, a ruined house. The situation has nothing particularly striking about it; the country is open and thinly cultivated, and a faint outline of hills is visible in the distance.

a bottle of good old wine, then to be found in
every inn in Ireland. This feat accomplished,
away he stalked to his own apartment-jack-
boots, silver-headed riding-whip, cloak and all
-followed close by a terrier dog, who had
been lying at the kitchen fire when he came
in, but who now kept sniffing and smelling at
his heels every step of the way up stairs.

When he had reached his room, and had
disencumbered himself of his heavy riding
gear, the dog at once leaped upon him with a
cry of joy; and he immediately recognised an
old favourite, whom he had lost in Dublin a
year or two before; wondering, at the same
time, how he had got so far into the country,
and why he had not known him before.
When the landlord entered the room with sup-
per, the traveller claimed his dog, and express-
ed his determination to bring him on with him
to Cork, whither he was bound. The host
made not the slightest objection, merely ob-
serving, that he had bought him from a Dublin
carrier, who, he supposed, had found him in
the streets. That point settled, the traveller
dismissed his landlord for the night, with di-
rections to cause him to be called betimes in
the morning: the man smiled darkly, and
withdrew.

1830.

see if there was any private entrance, looked to the priming of his pistols, and then stood prepared to abide by whatever might come, and to sell his life as dearly as he could.

The dog watched him intently until his preparations were completed; and then, having assured himself that his movements were observed by his master, he jumped once more on the fatal bed; then, after lying down for an instant, as if in imitation of the usual posture of a person composing himself to sleep, he suddenly changed his mind, as it were, sprang hastily to the floor, and stood, with eyes fixed and ears erect, in an attitude of most intense attention, watching the bed itself, and nothing else. The traveller, in the mean time, never stirred from the spot, though his eyes naturally followed those of the dog; and for a time every thing was as still as the grave, and not a stir nor a breath brake the stillness of the 100m, or interrupted the silence of the mute pair. At last a slight rustling sound was heard in the direction of the bed: the dog, with ears cocked and tail slightly moving, looked up at his master, as if to make sure that he was attentive, and in an instant the bed was seen descending swiftly and stealthily through the yawning floor, while a strong light flashed upward into the room. Not a seThe traveller made himself as comfortable cond was to be lost. The traveller dashed as he could, with the aid of a good supper and open the window, and leaped into the yard, Some 70 or 80 years ago, it was a substan- a cheerful fire, not forgetting his lost-and-found followed by his faithful companion. Another tial-looking inn: the proprietor was a farmer, companion, until, after some time, finding that moment, and, without giving himself any as well as an innkeeper; and although no par- the wine ran low, and that a certain dispositrouble on the score of a saddle, he was on the ticular or satisfactory reason could be assigned tion to trace castles and abbeys in the glow-back of his horse, as fast a hunter as any in for it, beyond vague and uncertain rumours, ing recesses of the burning turf, was creephe was by no means a favourite with his neighing over him—that is to say, in plain English, bours. He had little, indeed, of the Boniface about him; dark, sullen, and down-looking, he never appeared, even to a guest, unless when specially called for, much less to a thirsty brother farmer or labourer, passing his heavy, old-fashioned door, to ask him to taste his home-brewed ale or usquebaugh; yet the man was well to pass in the world, and with the aid of three or four hulking sons, and a heartbroken drudge of a wife, managed his farm and his inn, so as to pay his way at fair and market, and "hold his own," as the saying is, in the country. For all that, there were those who did not stick to say that more travellers went to his inn at night than ever left it in the morning; and one or two who remembered him in his early days, before he had learned to mask the evil traits of his character by sullenness and reserve, would not have taken the broad lands of the Geraldines of Leinster to pass a night in the best bed-room in his house; -no, no-they would rather take chance in the Bog of Allen, for that matter.

A severe storm, however, compelled a traveller to halt there one evening, although he had originally intended to get further on his journey, before he put up for the night. Not that he had any suspicion of the place; on the contrary, he thought it rather a comfortable, quiet-looking concern; and, turning from the lowering, inhospitable sky, and wishing the pitiless driving sleet good night, he rode into the inn-yard, saying in his own mind, "I may go further, and fare worse." Now I am of a very different opinion.

It was late in the evening, and late in the year-no matter about dates, I am not particular. So the traveller (who, being a merciful man, was merciful to his beast,) having seen his horse fed, and carefully laid up for the night, thought it high time to look after himself, as to both his outward and inward man. Accordingly, throwing his saddle bags over his arm, he walked into the inn-kitchen, in those days the most comfortable winter apartment in the house, to thaw himself at the huge fire, and give the customary mandates

catching himself nodding over the fire-he
thought it best to transfer his somnolency to a
well-curtained bed that stood invitingly in a
recess of the room.

As he proceeded to undress, the anxiety and
agitation of his dog attracted his attention,
and at last fairly aroused him, sleepy as he was,
though he could in no way account for it. The
animal ran backward and forward from him to
the bed, and as he laid aside each article of
clothing, fetched it to him again, with the
most intelligent and beseeching gestures; and
when, to satisfy the poor creature, as well as
to discover, if possible, what he wanted and
meant, he resumed some portion of his dress,
nothing could equal his joy. Strange suspi
cions began to flash across the traveller's
mind; he ran over every circumstance, even
the minutest, which had occurred since he en-
tered the inn; and now that his attention was
excited, it did strike him that, after making
every allowance for boorishness, and rusticity,
and sullenness of temper, there was more of
the gaoler than of the innkeeper in the bearing
and deportment of his silent host: he remem-
bered, too, how heavily the miserable-looking,
haggard wife had sighed, while she looked at
his own burly figure as he stood by the fire, as
though she sorrowed over a victim whom she
could not save; and, lastly, and above all, he
pondered on the ominous smile with which
the innkeeper received his directions to be
awakened early in the morning.

Meanwhile the indefatigable dog was busied in pulling off the bed clothes as well as his strength would permit; and when his master went to his assistance, what was his horror at seeing, beneath clean sheets and well-arranged blankets, a bed and mattress literally dyed with dark-red stains of blood! Though a man of peaceful habits, he knew as little of fear as most people, and the exigency of the moment roused every energy of his mind: he deliberately locked the door, examined the walls to

In most parts of Ireland, peat, or as we call it, turf, is used for fuel.

Leinster, and scouring away for life and death on the road to Kilcullen, followed by a train as pitiless as that which hurried from Kirk Alloway after poor Tam O'Shanter.

You may be sure he spared neither whip, spur, nor horseflesh; and, thanks to Providence and a good steed, he reached Kilcullen in safety. The authorities secured the villanous host and his accomplice sons, and the infuriated peasantry gave the fatal inn and its bloody secrets to the flames.

-There is the story; and if it be true, I can only say that I wish I knew where I could get one of the breed of the traveller's terrier, for love or money.

THE PARTHIAN CONVERT. A Tale of the Primitive Christians.

BY MISS AGNES STRICKLAND.

In the household of Caius Pompeius, a wealthy Roman tribune of patrician family, was a young and beautiful Parthian slave, named Apame, who had recently been presented to his daughter Lucia Pompeia by one of his centurions, into whose possession she had fallen towards the close of the last campaign against her country.

Apame abandoned herself to despair-wept incessantly, and refused to perform any of the offices assigned to her by her mistress, whose sweet and gentle temper prevented her from having recourse to any of the violent measures generally resorted to by the haughty and inperious Roman ladies, to enforce obedience from their refractory slaves.

Pompeia perceived that slavery was a new and bitter draught to the unhappy Parthian, and compassionately attributing her intractability to the recklessness of despair, occasioned by a sudden and violent wrench from all the fond ties of kindred and of country, she allowed her to indulge unmolested in the first over. flowings of a sorrow so natural, and at the same time, so acute.

Had the noble Roman lady been a convert to that divine religion of universal love and mercy, which enjoins all those who are influenced by its spirit to rejoice with those that do rejoice

PHILADELPHIA PORT FOLIO: A WEEKLY JOURNAL

fice, which was far from unpleasing to the ac-
complished Greek.

and to weep with them that weep, she would
have done more she would have made herself
acquainted with the nature of that mortal grief
under which she saw her slave suffering, and
The mild and pleasing manners of Theron
kindly poured the oil and wine of consolation
endeared him, in no slight degree, to his amia-
into the wounded heart of the forlorn stranger joy the principles of the Christian faith, the
ble pupil, whose opening mind imbibed with
--she would have taken the desolate and af-knowledge of which his devout preceptor con-
flicted one to her bosom, and been to her as a
sister.
sidered it as his first and most important duty
to inculcate.

But the conduct of the very best and purest among those, to whom the light of the gospel has never been as a lamp to guide their feet to the paths of true holiness, must be of necessity imperfect; for of themselves they are not aware, that even a cup of cold water offered to a fainting traveller in the spirit of charity, is more acceptable in the sight of God, than whole hecatombs of sacrifices and burnt offerings.

Pompeia was generous, high minded, and sweet tempered, and free from all the grosser vices which at that period were so prevailing among even the highest orders of Roman females; but being ignorant of that which maketh wise unto eternal life, her character contained a portion of earthly alloy, more than sufficient to outweigh the sterling gold in its composition. Thus is it ever with man in his natural unassisted state,

"Some flow'rets of Eden he still may inherit, But the trail of the serpent is over them all." Young, beautiful, noble, and admired, Pompeia was unacquainted with sorrow; and believed that enjoyment was the sole end and purpose of her existence. She received the unbounded adulation of a flattering world with pleasure; and happy herself in the undisturbed possession of all those blessings from which Apame had been so rudely torn, absorbed in the rapturous feelings of conjugal bliss, and the first sweet joys of a youthful mother, the darling of a fond father, and the pride of affectionate brethren, she had no thoughts beyond the centre of her own delights,-no sympathies to bestow on her unfortunate slave, whose fate appeared more intolerable from the comparison which she daily drew between her destiny and that of her mistress.

In the family of the tribune were other slaves of various nations, on whom the yoke sat lightly; and these, for the most part, led a gay and happy life, and when their easy toils were ended, for they were kept almost as much for state as for service, they concluded every day with songs, dances, and games; but they of fered not to associate with their unfortunate fellow captive in these pleasures-for they had no desire to alleviate her wo or to be saddened with her sorrows,-and she was the stricken deer of the herd, left by the rest to weep unpitied and alone.

There was, however, one person who looked with tender compassion on the disconsolate Parthian, and endeavoured to speak peace to her afflicted spirit; and this was a young Greek, named Theron, who, though a slave equally with herself, held a post of no slight importance in the family of the tribune; for he was the preceptor of his youngest son, Lucius; his great learning having recommended him to Pompeius as a proper person to conduct the education of this beloved boy, the most promising of them all.

Theron was the son of a Greek philosopher, to whom the name of Christianity was as foolishness; but his mother, wiser in her simplicity and singleness of heart than the learned, had been one of St. Paul's converts, and had carefully instructed her only child in the pure and holy doctrines of that saving faith, through which alone salvation is offered to the children of men. After the death of his parents, The ron had been exposed to many vicissitudes, and being at length taken by pirates while on a voyage to Alexandria, he had by them been sold as a slave; and after passing through the bands of a variety of masters, he was finally purchased by the tribune Caius Pompeius, and appointed by him to the above mentioned of

name, can conceive the feelings of holy glad-
None but a Christian in spirit, as well as
flowed, when he beheld his young and ardent
ness with which the heart of Theron over-
proselyte kneel for the first time in prayer to
the only true God, in the name of his glorified
Redeemer.

"Is not this a brand plucked from the burn-
ing?" he mentally exclaimed," and shall I re-
friends, when it has pleased my heavenly Fa-
gret the loss of liberty, of country, and of
this sweet boy? And who knoweth whether
ther to make me the messenger of salvation to
who will also receive with joy the glad tidings
there be not others in this benighted house,
which I have been sent from afar to declare
unto them?"

wiser than the wayward child, whom its deceitful nurse beguiles of its present sorrow, with vain promises of fairer toys and more dethou, indeed, that the anguish of a fond and licious sweets, than those of which it bewails the loss," said Apame, weeping. "Deemest that thou hadst been, like myself, acquainted faithful wife is to be thus cheated? I thought with grief; but now I perceive that thou didst never know the sickness of the heart, in its sore yearnings after the dear lost objects of its love."

A shade of prevailing sadness, for a moyoung Greek, as he replied, "Country and ment, clouded the expressive features of the friends have been removed from me, and the cup of love has been dashed from my lips when bitterness of exile and bondage in those days, it flowed the sweetest, and I have proved the when I had vainly prepared myself to pluck the golden fruits of those hopes, whose deluall this, and to say, 'Surely the light afflictions yet have I learned to see the hand of God in sive flowers had bloomed so brightly for me; of this present time are not to be reckoned in that shall be revealed to those that love his comparison with the eternal weight of glory name;' and for my own exceeding joy hath he clare his name to a people that sit in darkness called me into a strange land, that I might deand the shadow of death."

per

"Thou speakest strange things," said Apame; "doth not Mithra reveal his glory to this their homage to idols of wood and stone, to his verse people, who blindly prefer rendering pure and natural worship, as full as brightly as he doth in mine own fair land, where every

mighty name, and his sacred fires are burning first issuing forth from his golden tabernacles, and every head is bowed in reverence at his on every altar?"

"Those fires, that adoration, Apame, are stone," returned Theron; equally idolatrous with the homage which the Romans offer to their images of wood and worship is alike erring, that is not directed to "for every act of the only true God, the Lord and giver of life."

It was not, however, to the proud tribune, or to his admired and beautiful daughter, nor yet to their light-hearted and luxurious household, that Theron in the first instance applied himself, for well he knew that his heavenly ful, while he was received with joy by the Master was rejected by the rich and powerpoor and destitute and sorrow-laden, having arly sent to heal the broken-hearted and to expressly declared, that he was more peculipreach deliverance to the captives. Apame was at first inaccessible to his endea-face is turned to the east to adore him at his vours to win her confidence; for, unaccustomnevolence, she mistook the motives that ined to the offices of pure and disinterested beoccasions, in the soothing language of the tenduced her fellow captive to address her, on all derest sympathy. But when at length he succeeded in convincing her that friendship, simply friendship, was all he sought of her, and she had relieved her overburdened heart by revealing to him the cause of her excessive afburst of passionate grief, she told him she was fiction, he ceased to wonder. Then, with a a wife, and though of lowly birth herself, he to whom she was wedded was a prince among her own people, whose love for her had induced him to reject even a royal alliance for her sake. ther, that during the absence of Salamenes in This refusal had so much exasperated his fathe defence of his country, he had contrived she should be treacherously betrayed into the hands of the Romans, by whom she had been present lot of bondage, in which it was imposcarried to the imperial city, and placed in her ing her beloved husband again: and here she sible for her to cherish a hope of ever beholdwept more abundantly than before. Nor could hers, while he bade her be of comfort,-since, Theron refrain from mingling his tears with doubtless, the things that appeared to her so bitter, and hard to be borne, were meant for her eventual happiness.

"How can that be ?" demanded the young slave, torn from my country and my parents, Parthian, passionately, "when I am a wretched and worse, far worse, bereaved of him with my lord, my life, my husband, my princely Sawhom even slavery would have been sweetlamenes!

"

Theron, like his blessed Master, would not
press too heavily on a bruised reed, and he pa-
itself unrepressed: but when in the middle of
tiently allowed her long pent up grief to vent
the wild eloquence of her affliction, she ex-
claimed, "Who shall restore to me those
things, the loss of which renders my life a bur-
replied-
den too heavy to be borne?" He soothingly

permitted them to be removed from thee,
"He who hath for his own wise purposes
Apame,-he, even he, can give thee better
things than those."

"Thou dealest with me as though I were no

The young Parthian pointed to the sun, then in his meridian splendour, and performed her accustomed obeisance.

shouldest thus transfer to the creature, the ho"Alas! alas!" said Theron, "that thou zling beams thine eye veils itself in darkness, mighty, that refulgent orb, before whose dazmage which is due to the Creator alone. That superior glory of the Almighty Lord of the is but a feeble spark in comparison with the universe, who fills heaven and earth,-the darkness, nor diminution of its splendour,brightness of his presence, which knows no day and night, morning, noon, and evening, are the same with him, for they are the emaof his government." nations of his power, and the beautiful effects

greatness you so eloquently describe?" asked
"But how will you convince me that Mithra
is not the supreme ruler of the universe, whose
Apame thoughtfully.

call the sun, never, on any occasion, deviates
Theron," how it happens that Mithra, as you
"I would in return demand of you," replied
rising, meridian, and setting?"
from his regular course,
tions observes stated times and seasons for his
but in all his evolu-

Apame.
"It is his divine pleasure so to do," replied

formed and fitted him for his own especial pur-
"Say rather," resumed Theron, "that it is
worthy indeed of the Almighty power that cre-
the pleasure of a mightier than he, who hath
poses,
of which he is a stupendous instrument,
among his works, subjected him to certain im-
ated him, and, having appointed him his place
chine on principles which enables it to perform
like as a skilful mechanist constructs a ma-
certain operations, from which it cannot vary.
mutable laws, from which he cannot vary

"Your reasoning is forcible," said Apame, "but still I am not convinced."

"Yet seven days," replied Theron, "and you shall see the face of your god partially obscured, and darkened by the shadow of a meaner luminary, to which you render no homage." For Theron who was deeply versed in the science of astronomy, was aware, from certain calculations, that a visible eclipse of the sun would take place at that time; and so far from making a mystery, or assuming an adventitious importance in the eyes of his unenlightened fellow captive, on account of his foreknowledge of an event which he knew would appear to her as something not less than miraculous, he explained the natural causes from whence it would proceed, as far as he was able, and endeavoured to make her comprehend the nature of the solar and planetary system, as far as they were then understood.

(To be continued.)

CAUTIONS FOR THE SEASON. THE vernal equinox is past; spring will, ere long, make its approach, and nature hold her festival. Poets delight to celebrate the advent of gentle spring, the wind-winged emblem of hope, and love, and youth, and gladness. We would not mar such a fair picture by ill-timed shading. Let it remain to be enjoyed by all who have a taste for natural beauties, and are blessed at the same time with the buoyancy of health and constitutional vigour. We would, however, that it should be temperately enjoyed by even this description of persons. Our province leads us not to turn away ungraciously or ungratefully from the rich stores of the seasons, which a bountiful Providence spreads before us, but rather to prolong the pleasure by a temperate and discriminating

use.

The sluggish movements and pale shrunk skin, induced by wintry cold, are now succeeded by the light bounding step, carnation tint, and sparkling eye. The tendencies of all animated nature, even to the vegetable creation, are expansive-parts of the body, before, in a measure, torpid, are now excited-the senses are more acute, the feelings and intellect more susceptible of varied and energetic display. All the sympathies between organs are now doubly active. The great changes of temperature, and in the direction and force of the winds at this season, in which one day differs from another as greatly as summer is at variance with winter, are attended by corresponding mutations in the activity of the functions of the living body. The skin, warmed and excited to perspiration in the noontide sun, will, without due precaution, be chilled, and have its pores suddenly closed by the keen, cold air of the evening and night. The hurried breathing and circulation, by the active exercises of a vernal day, are often causes of painful palpitations, pains in the side and headaches, especially when they coincide with a sudden obstruction to perspiration. The sensibilities of the digestive organs being increased, the full diet of winter will, if persisted in, give rise to fever, and aid in evolving inflammation of the lungs or of the liver, or rouse into action latent irritations of the skin. In fine, there is a general tendency to perturbation in the vital movements of the animal economy. Every part is prone to be excited, and to transmit its disturbances to other parts. Is the skin obstructed in its office, it makes the throat, lungs, and muscles suffer-as we see in sore throats, coughs, pleurisies, spitting of blood, and rheumatism. Let the stomach be overtasked, and the complaints of the dyspeptic are redoubled-flushed cheeks and sickheadache become his constant companions. The person who has suffered from intermittent fever during the preceding autumn, is now in danger of a return of the disease. Gout and apoplexy, excessive mental excitement, and madness itself, not unfrequently mark the vernal equinox. Scrofula, little troublesome during the winter, now breaks out with renewed violence-the glands, or small round bodies

along the neck, on each side, become enlarged and painful, and if neglected they ulcerate. Discases of the skin, whether tetter or others, are also troublesome at this time, and give their possessor most unpleasant notice of the rousing of sensibilities, which had been, in a measure, dormant through the winter.

This may strike the reader as a dark catalogue, and a most startling and painful contrast with the highly coloured and enchanting accounts of the poets. We hope it may arrest his attention, and guide him to profitable musings on the risks to which he is exposed. No one can boast his entire immunity from dan ger, and consequent freedom from the necessity of precautions. These we shall give with plainness and brevity. They consist mainly in attention to clothing, exercise, and diet. No sudden, or for a length of time yet to come, any diminution of the winter clothing should be attempted. Excercise should be moderate -less than could have been safely taken in a clear winter's day; nor ought the person to be long exposed to the sun. If, from any unforeseen or unavoidable cause, great bodily exertion have been used, so as to induce perspiration and fatigue,-rest in the open air, or remaining stationary in passages or cold rooms, or going out the same evening or night must be carefully avoided. Any feeling of chilliness or aching of the limbs at night, ought to be met by a warm foot bath, frictions with flannel or a flesh brush, and a draught of simple warm herb tea, or even hot water.

Increase of thirst, feverish heat, pains of the head, or palpitation, with a sensation of languor or uneasiness, are best obviated by a reduction of the usual quantity of food-and a substitution, almost entire, of vegetable for animal substances. Liquors of all kinds, distilled, vinous, or malt, are to be specially abstained from. The experience of their toleration during the winter will be most deceptive, if taken as a guide during the spring. Even the use of coffee and tea must, in many cases, be discontinued-the former especially, if the person be subject to palpitations of the heart, or diseases of the skin.

People afflicted with the latter, are thought to have their blood in an impure state, and to be under the necessity of having recourse to various depurative syrups, decoctions, and what not. They are fine game for nostrum makers and venders, and become ready dupes of such characters. We profess, indeed, to have ourselves some purifying and alterative beverages, in the virtues of which we place great reliance. Before introducing them to notice, we must, however, beg pardon of those persons labouring under scrofulous and cutaneous affections to whom they are in a peculiar manner beneficial, for the two notable drawbacks to our winning their approbation and confidence. The first is, that these drinks cost little or nothing-the second, that they are of good taste, and with healing virtues so unequivocally sanctioned by the wise and experi enced of all ages and countries, as neither to require nor claim any puffing notice or lying eulogy. They are not of the class of those marvellous agents which are pompously introduced to public notice, as hurting nobody, and curing every body; which an infant might swallow with impunity, and the most desperate leper take, with the full assurance of his being cleansed from all impurities as entirely as the Syrian of old, after bathing, by the prophet's command, in the waters of the Jordan. Not to keep the reader any longer in suspense, the elixir of life and the genuine restorative are, first, pure water; and second, milk, either pure as obtained from the cow, or diluted with water, or its component parts separated, as in butter-milk or whey. Copious potations of water, at this season, will be found the very best purifier of the blood and remover of all peccant matter; while milk, as an article of diet, with good light bread, baked on the preceding day, or vegetables, may be regarded as the grand cordial and true tonie. This is, in

many countries, the food of the robust ploughman and hardy mountaineer, whose spirits are strung in a very different key to what the sipper of wine and cordial, the bibber of beer and porter, or the tippler of ardent spirits, can boast of. Let us hope, in conclusion, that the eulogists of panaceas, and balms, and balsams, of patent pills and powders, the lovers of wonderful cures, and searchers after the incredible, will have patience with us, this once, for proffering the language of nature and common sense, even though so sadly at variance with their prejudices and interests. The people at large are still credulous enough for all their purposes of deception; and, in despite of our poor efforts, will furnish them, we greatly fear, with a rich harvest in time to coine, as they have always done in times past.

[Journal of Health.

Constantinople.-This celebrated metropolis, the Anthusa, or blooming maiden, of the Greeks, and the Ummedanja, or mother of the universe, as it is styled by the Turks, has been visited with the horrors of nine and twenty sieges. The subsequent enumeration of their successive occurrence, cannot fail to possess something more than a transient interest in the eyes

of our readers.

B. C. 477. Besieged by Pausanias after the battle of Platea.

410. By Alcibiades, in the beginning of the fifth century, anno 410 or 411. 347. By Leo, Philip's general. A.D. 197. By the Emperor Septimius Severus. 313. By Maximius Cæsar.

315. By Constantine the Great.
616. By Chosroes of Persia, under Hera-
clius, Emperor of the East.

626. By the Chachan of the Avari, an ally
of Chosroes.

656. By Moawia, the general of Ali, an
Arab sovereign.

669. By lesid, a son of Moawia.
674. By Sofian Ben-Auf, one of Moawia's
generals.

719. By two sons of Caliph Merwan, when
Anthemios was emperor.

744. By Solyman, a son of Caliph Abdol-
melek.

764. By Paganos, the kral of the Bulga-
rians, under Constantine V.
786. By Harun-al-Rashid, under Leo IV.
798. By Abdolmelek, a general of Harun-
al-Rashid.

811. By Krumus, the despot of the Slavo-
nians.

820. By Thomas, the Slavonian, under Michael the Stammerer.

886. By the Russians, under Ascold and Dir.

914. By Simeon, kral of the Bulgarians. 1048. By Tornicius, the rebel, under Michael Monomachos.

1081. By Alexius Comnenus, on Good Friday.

1204. By the Crusaders, on the 12th of April.

1261. By Michael Palæologus, on the 25th
of July.

1396. By Bajazet, the lightning-flash. The
first Ottoman siege.
1402. By the saine.

1414. By Musa, a son of Bajazet.

1422. By Amurath II. a son of Mahomet I. 1453, 29th of May. By Mahomet II." the conqueror of Constantinople," against whose victorious host, Phranza tells us, Constantine Dragofes Palæologus, the last Greek emperor, rushed forth, exclaiming, "I would rather die than live;" and shortly afterwards, perceiving himself deserted by his recreant followers, and crying aloud, "Is there no Christian hand to smite off my aching head?" met a glorious death, though doomed to fall by the ci

metar of an infidel.

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