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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 gentlemar 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 bar*barous 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 flues 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

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. Max. well, 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 the 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, rous 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-endeed 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 into the room the next day-he paused for a few seconds. He then uncorked the phialswallowed its contents-stood motionless, as if transfixed, for nearly a minute-staggered towards a sofa-and fell senseless on it.

Now if any one should say that Mr. Maxwell, with the suspicions he entertained, or, rather, the knowledge he possessed of Sir Harry's intention, acted unwarrantably-heartlessly-wickedly-in leaving him to carry it into execution, the only defence I can offer for him is that perhaps he had very good reasons for acting as he did. But to relieve him as speedily as possible from the odious charge of 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, with considerable anxiety watched the proceedings of the son of his benefactor. He was aware of the ruinous modes of raising money resorted to by Sir Harry, whilst any thing remained in his possession which he could either mortgage or sell; and he was now also aware of the distressing facts that not only even 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 with him by one of his clients. They were documents connected with a transfer of some 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 informed of, that, in that transaction, an obvious fraud had been practised upon his inconsiderate friend. This discovery led him to examine into other transactions of a similar kind; and the result of his various investigations was a conviction that a vast portion of the property might fairly be recovered, since it had been obtained from Sir Harry by mal-practices of a much graver complexion than the mere infraction 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 estrangement, 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 vagueundefinable-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 to delay the communication he had to make till the following day and still less could he 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 resolution that he requested permission to send for his things to dress there.

The rest is soon told.

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 we suddenly find ourselves 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

We know very well that in cases of emer

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

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 the time, he will find that he did not think in words, but that a variety of pictures,-scenes of various modes of action, presented them. selves almost simultaneously to his mind's eye, and that by a sort of instinct he pounced upon 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 failed him, provided he were not taken by surprise, but had time to turn the matter over in his head.

Maxwell did not throw the poison out at window; nor did he rush into the drawingroom, with his face pale and his hair standing on-end; nor did he call upon the company to bind Sir Harry hand and foot; nor did he remonstrate with him upon the folly as well as the wickedness of terminating his own existence; nor did he even betray the slightest hint that he was aware of his entertaining such an intention. He knew his man; and he was conscious, therefore, that his interference in any manner, though it might delay, would not prevent the act; he perceived, too, that he was not then, nor likely to be, for the rest of that day, in a state of mind to listen to his edifying expostulations, and he felt convinced, that by taking one means of self-destruction out of the 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 course than any of those. He drove to the chemist's, whose address he found on the labelof the phial, and procured a composing draught, which was put into a small bottle of precisely the same appearance as the more mischievous one he had removed. He then returned to street, walked leisurely up-stairs into the dressing-room, placed the mixture where 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 eight o'clock the next morning Maxwell was in Sir Harry's room, which he entered by a side-door the baronet had neglected to fasten. He found his friend in a profound sleep, from which he did not awake till three 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 abandonment of the habits of his whole former life, will appear the less extraordinary when it is mentioned that he has been heard to declare, that he would endure starvation, beggary, misery in any shape, rather than again encounter the horrors of that last carouse.

MOVING PANORAMA.

[From Arnott's Physics.]

"It is remarkable," says Dr. Arnott, "when the imagination is once excited by some beantiful or striking view, how readily any visual hint produces clear and strong impressions. 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, which by accident had strayed among the paintings. And another young spectator was heard calling that he saw a horse galloping up the mountain side;-it was a minute fly crawling slowly along the canvass. There is in this department a very fine field yet open to the exercise of ingenuity, for the contempla

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

tous course of philosophical lectures at his own house, to which he invited the attendance of his friends." There is something almost affecting 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 inental 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 indus try, 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 de-brightly to the last, and was extinguished for signed that the real motion of the picture gave to the spectator the feeling of the events being only then in progress, and with the accompa niments, 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

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a moment, only to be instantaneously relumed
at the throne of the Eternal.

We regret our inability to furnish an accu-
rate 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 do-

ed away in undisturbed uniformity.

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 Martin's most admired compositions. With re

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,spect to his domestic life, we learn, that he was
his defeat at Waterloo-his subsequent flight a rigid economist of time, and quite an enthu
-his delivery of himself to the British Admi- siast in his love of order and punctuality. If
ral-his appearing at the gangway of the Bel- five minutes ever elapsed between the proper
lerophon to thousands of spectators, waiting in period of dinner and that of its being ready, he
boats around, while he was in Plymouth har- would, on sitting down, say, "Now I have lost
bour, previous to his departure for ever from five minutes, and Mrs. Taylor has lost five mi-
the shores of Europe-his house and habits nutes, and these (enumerating the rest of the
during his exile, with various views of St. family) have each lost five minutes; and, (sup-
Helena; and last of all, that solemn proces- posing there were six in company) so we have
sion, in which the bier, with his lifeless corpse, lost a whole half hour by the want of punctuali-
appeared moving slowly on its way to the ty." This way of calculating the time lost, used
grave under the willow-tree. The exhibition sometimes to astonish the poor cook, who did
now spoken of might have been made much not altogether understand such nice computa-
better in all respects, yet in its mediocrity it tions. He was, we are told by a fair friend who
served to prove how admirably adapted such was slightly acquainted with him, a "social
unions of painting, music, and narration, or and instructive companion: his conversation
poetry, are to affect the mind, and therefore to was habitually distinguished by the introduc-
become the means of conveying most impres- tion of remarks of a useful tendency, contain-
sive lessons of historical fact, and moral prin- ing much point, and expressed in his native
ciple."
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
THIS amiable man, and very useful writer, them the improvement of their minds, and the
died December 12th, 1829, at Ongar, in Essex, unceasing acquisition of knowledge. Nor did
in the 71st year of his age. For thirty-two years he confine himself merely to pointing out the
he had presided over the independent church road, and directing thein to walk in it. He ex-
and congregation of that place, and previously tended a helping hand to all who were willing
to his establishment there, he had sustained a to labour for themselves; and, indeed, statedly
similar charge at Colchester. Before his re- devoted some hours to the instruction of a few
moval to Ongar, exertions were made to se- young friends, in whose mental advancement
cure his pastoral service at Plaistow, in Essex; he took a kind interest. This feature of his
but from some cause or other, the negotiations character is still further heightened by the
for that purpose failed, and a conjunction of cir-fact, that "only a short time previous to his
cumstances, which he ever regarded as provi- death, he commenced the delivery of a gratui-

REV. ISAAC TAYLOR.

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 Judicrous 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

* The writer of this notice hopes to be pardoned, for a brief digression relative to Miss J. Taylor, which may be interesting, at least, to some readers. He was residing, a few years back, for a short time at Olney, in Buckinghamshire, and in the course of a ramble one afternoon, through Weston Park, he at length reached the recess, now universally named "Cowper's Alcove;" which, with the beautiful avenue opposite to it in the distance, that poet so charmingly describes in his "Task." Before sitting down, the writer's eye happened to glance upon the back of the seat, where it has become customary for visiters to inscribe their names, and his delight at noticing the following 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 necessary) 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."

matter;

I've miss'd three flies already by this chatter.

lent and careless mind, he says, "A lost cha- | My tail-ask that-perhaps may solve the racter 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 ohserver 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.

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THE WREN.

Wren, canst thou squeeze into a hole so small? Aye, with nine young ones too, and room for

all:

Go, compass sea and land, in search of bliss; Find, if you can, a happier home than this.

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Live with me, love me, pretty Goldfinch, do! -Aye, pretty maid, and be a slave to you; Wear chains, fire squibs, draw water,-nay, not I,

While I've a bill to peck, or wing to fly.

THE STONECHAT.

Why art thou ever flitting to and fro? -Plunge through these whins, their thorns will let thee know;

There are five secrets brooding here in night, Which my good mate will duly bring to light: Meanwhile, she sees the ants around her throng,

And hears the grasshopper chirp all day long.

THE GREY LINNET.

Linnet, canst thou not change that humble

coat?

Linnet, canst thou not mellow that sharp note? -If rude my song, and mean my garb appear, Have you, sir, eyes to see, and ears to hear?

THE RED LINNET.
Sweet is thy warble, beautiful thy plume!
Catch me, and cage me, then behold my
doom; "

My throat will fail, my colour wear away,
And the Red Linnet soon became a Grey.t
THE CHAFFINCH.

Stand still one moment!

-Spare your idle words; I'm the perpetual mobile of birds; My days are running, rippling, twittering

streams;

When fast asleep, I'm broad awake in dreams.

THE CANARY.

Dost thou not languish for thy native land,
Madeira's fragrant woods and billowy strand?
-My cage is father-land enough for me;
Your parlour all the world-heaven, earth,
and sea.

THE TOMTIT.

Least, nimblest, merriest bird of Albion's isle,

I cannot look on thee without a smile!
-I envy thee the sight, for all my glee
Could never yet extort a smile from me;
Think what a tiresome thing my life must be!

THE KINGFISHER.

Why dost thou hide thy beauty from the sun? -The eye of man, but not of Heaven, I shun; Beneath the mossy bank, with alders crown'd, I build and brood where running waters sound; There, there the halcyon, peace may still be found.

THE SWIFT.

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

THE WOODLARK.

Say, drooping minstrel, both shall be renew'd!
Thy notes are silenced, and thy pinions mew'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
heart.

THE COCK.

Who taught thee, Chanticleer, to count the clock?

—Nay, who taught man that lesson but the
Long before wheels and bells had learn'd to
Cock?
chime,

I told the steps, unseen, unheard, of Time.

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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 example as well as precepts, the development of the noblest faculties of your children-the affections, 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 gine her surprise at the following exhibition-School-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!]

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 commu. nity.-American Sentinel.

(COPY.)

Navy Department, March 30th, 1830. Sir,-1t 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.

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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.'

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66

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 ability, 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."

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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.

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.

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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.

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