[To “Nineteenth-Century American Children & What They Read”]

Beauties of Sentiment (1831)

Anecdotes often were reprinted in 19th-century nonfiction for children. Little stories could teach young readers how to think and how to live; scenes from the lives of the famous could serve as models of how to act. (Mason Weems added an anecdote to American culture in his 1800 biography of George Washington; young Washington refusing to lie about axing his father’s cherry tree appeared in more than one publication for children—delightfully ironic, given that the story appears to have been fabricated.)

Beauties of Sentiment is a collection of 55 anecdotes apparently reprinted from various sources by John Punchard, who from 1830 to 1833 sold ink, presses, books, blacking, stereotype plates, and vegetable liniment from his store in Boston, Massachusetts. Born in 1791, Punchard died in Jacksonville, Florida, of “bilious fever” on 25 August 1834. (See “Deaths.” Columbian Centinel [Boston, Massachusetts] 10 September 1834; p. 4.)

In 1831, Punchard published at least two books: Beauties of Sentiment and The Spirit of Free-Masonry, a 24-page poem by Andrew Nichols. “Published,” not printed: Spirit was printed by E. W. Metcalf and Co. Probably Punchard didn’t print Beauties, either.

Whoever printed and bound Beauties was not exactly careful. Typographical errors seem to be the foundation of the anecdotes, from misspellings (“embassador,” “Kickafoos,” “colonal”; Thaddeus Kosciusko’s last name is spelled three different ways) to interesting punctuation (double quotation marks used to set off quotes at the beginning of the book soon become single marks, and commas have been scattered through the text with an unsparing hand) to outright inaccurate information. Governor William Berkley, the book asserts, in 1617 (64 years after Virginia was settled), thanked God that the colony had no public schools or printing—difficult to believe, given that Berkley would have been 12 years old at the time and living in England. (Virginia was chartered in 1606; Berkley was governor of Virginia twice—1641-1652 and 1660-1677—and perhaps spoke against education in 1670.)

Binding appears to have been equally haphazard. The book is tiny—about three inches high and three inches wide—and was printed in a font size suitable for miniature books. The book’s size is in keeping with the size of an anecdote; “There is a charm and force of thought and expression oftentimes to be found in an anecdote,” Punchard asserts on the title page, “which, not unfrequently, you look for in vain, in the preparation, illustration, and connection of a big book.” And the size probably appealed to young readers. It also makes the book appear longer than it actually is.

But this is a case where one copy plus one copy can equal … one copy. The two copies I own are a study in incompleteness. One copy has a spine measuring 3/8 of an inch and is missing 12 pages; the other has a spine measuring 1/2 an inch and … Well, here’s how that copy goes: title page, page 8; page iii, page iv; page iii, page iv; title page, page 8; page 9, page 16; page 13, page 12; page 13, page 12; page 9, page 16; page 17 to page 116. Yes, page 8 is printed on the verso of the title page, and page 16 is on the verso of page 9 (twice), and pages 12 and 13 somehow got flipped. Something seems to have gone awry when the sheets were fed into the printing press. And were the 12 pages ever in the first copy? It’s difficult to tell: the binding is tight and the book is visibly thinner than copy two, with its eccentric pagination.

As a collection, Beauties of Sentiment is also haphazard. Some anecdotes are a few lines, some are a pithy scene or two, some lose the point in verbiage. But all but one are labeled with their moral thrusts, making the book useful to later researchers not always certain just what young readers were to understand from the little scenes often used as filler in early periodicals for children. How the book came to be is unclear. Several anecdotes had appeared in print before 1831, though in various publications; if there is a collection that Punchard was reprinting, it hasn’t been identified.

This transcription is taken from two copies of the first (and only) edition. I haven’t always attempted to correct or [sic] errors.

Beauties of Sentiment. (Boston, Massachusetts: John Punchard, 1831)

[title page]


There is a charm and force of thought and expression oftentimes to be found in an anecdote, which, not unfrequently, you look for in vain, in the preparation, illustration, and connection of a big book.


[p. iii]


In forming this little volume particular care has been taken in the selection of those anecd[o]tes which are calculated to convey a strong moral sentiment; and make a profitable and lasting impression both upon the mind and heart.

It is worthy of remark, that the most eminent men, in all ages, have not thought it beneath them occasionally to dip their pens in anecdotal matter; and to manifest their love for this species of mental rec-

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creation; and, one of the wisest and best of them has said, that he fancies all mankind would come, in time, to write aphoristically, except in narrative; grow weary of preperation, [sic] and connection, and illustration, and all those arts by which a big book is made.

[p. 5]


Filial Affection rewarded.

The late king of Prussia rung his bell one day, and nobody answered.—He opened the door and found the page asleep on the sofa. He was going to wake him, when he perceived the end of a billet hanging out of his pocket. He had the curiosity to know the contents;—he took and read it.—It was a letter from his mother, who thanked him for having sent her a part of his wages to assist her distress, and besought God to bless him in his filial goodness. The king returned to his room, took a roll of ducats, and

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slid them with the letter into the page’s pocket. Returning to his apartment, he rang so violently that the page awakened and entered. “You have slept well,” said the king. The page made an apology; and in his embarrassment he happened to put his hands into his pocket, and felt with astonishment, the paper of money. He drew it out, turned pale, and looking at the king, burst into tears without being able to speak a word. ‘What is the matter,’ said the king, ‘what ails you?’ ‘Ah! sire,’ said the young man, throwing himself at his feet, ‘somebody would wish to ruin me. I know not how this money came into my pocket.’ ‘My friend,’ said the king, ‘God often sends us good in our sleep;—give it to thy mother;—salute her in my name, and tell her, I will take care of her and you[.]’

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Love of Country.

The patriotic enthusiasm of Mrs. Jacob Motte demands particular notice. When compelled by painful duty, Lieutenant Colonel Lee informed her, that in order to accomplish the immediate surrender of the British garrison occupying her elegant mansion, its destruction was indispensable. She instantly replied, “the sacrifice of my property is nothing, and I shall view its destruction with delight, if it shall in any degree contribute to the good of the country.’ In proof of her sincerity, she immediately presented the arrows by which combustible matter was conveyed to the dwelling.

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True grandeur of Soul.

A great inundation having taken place in the north of Italy owing to an excessive fall of snow in the Alps, followed by a speedy thaw, the river Adige carried off a bridge near Verona, except the middle post, on which was the house of the toll-gatherer; and who with his whole family thus remained imprisoned by the waves, and in momentary expectation of certain destruction. They were discovered from the banks stretching forth their hands, screaming, and imploring succor, while fragments of this only remaining arch were continually dropping into the impetuous torrent. In this extreme danger, a nobleman, Count of Pulverini, who was a spectator, held out a purse of one hundred sequins as a reward to any adventurer, who would take boat and save this

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unhappy family. But the risk was so great of being borne down by the rapidity of the stream, of being dashed against the fragment of the bridge, or of being crushed by the falling of the heavy stones, that not one of the vast numbers looking on had courage enough to attempt such an exploit. A peasant passing along was informed of the promised reward. Immediately jumping into a boat, he, by amazing strength of oars, gained the middle of the river, and brought his boat under the pile when the whole terrified family safely descended by means of a rope. ‘Courage,’ cried he, ‘now you are safe.’ By a still more strenuous effort, and great strength of arm, he brought the boat and family to shore. ‘Brave fellow,’ exclaimed the Count, and handing the purse to him, ‘here is your promised recompense.’ ‘I shall never expose my life for money,’ answered

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the peasant. ‘My labor affords a sufficient livelihood for myself, my wife, and children;—give the purse to the poor family which has lost all.’

Virtue preferable to Riches.

Themistocles had a daughter. Two men making love to her, he preferred the virtuous man, before the rich one, saying, ‘I would rather have a man without riches, than riches without a man.’

Indian Eloquence.

The Indian warrior, Tecumseh, who fell in the late American war, was not only an accom-

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plished military commander, but also a great natural statesman and orator. Among the many strange and some strongly characteristic events of his life, the council which the American General Harrison held with the Indians at Vincennes in 1811, affords an admirable instance of the sublimity which sometimes distinguished his eloquence. The chiefs of some tribes had come to complain of a purchase of lands which had been made from the Kickafoos. [sic] The council effected nothing, but broke up in confusion in consequence of Tecumseh having called General Harrison a liar. During the long talks which took place in the conference, Tecumseh, having finished one of his speeches, looked round, and seeing every one seated, and no seat prepared for him, a momentary frown passed over his countenance. Instantly Gen. Harrison ordered that a chair should be

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given him. Some person presented one, and bowing, said to him, ‘Warrior, your father, Gen. Harrison offers you a seat.’ ‘My father!’ he exclaimed indignantly, extending his arms towards Heaven, ‘the sun is my father, and the earth is my mother; she gives me nourishment, and I repose upon her bosom.’ As he ended he suddenly seated himself on the ground.

A beautiful Reply.

A young girl about seven years of age was asked by an atheist, how large she supposed her God to be; to which she with admirable readiness replied;—‘he is so great the heavens cannot contain him and yet so kindly condescending as to dwell in my little heart.’

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Franklin a Christian.

The following I* obtained from the Rev. Dr. Helmuth of the German church, Philadelphia. Hearing that this learned and pious divine possessed a valuable anecdote of Dr. Franklin, I immediately waited on him. ‘Yes sir,’ said he, ‘I have indeed a valuable anecdote of Dr. Franklin, which I would tell you with great pleasure;—But as I do not speak English very well, I wish you would call on David Ritter, at the sign of the Golden Lamb in Front Street; he will tell it to you better.’ I hastened to Mr. Ritter and told him my errand. He seemed highly pleased at it and said, ‘Yes, I will tell you all I know of it. You must understand, then,

* Rev. S. M. Weems.

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sir, first of all, that I always had a prodigious opinion of Dr. Franklin, as the most useful man we ever had among us by a long way;—and so, hearing he was sick, I thought I would go and see him. As I rapped at the door, who should come and open it but old Sarah Humphries. I was glad to see her; for I had known her a long time. She was of the people called Friends; and a mighty good sort of a body she was too. The great people set a heap of store by her, for she was famous throughout the town for nursing and tending on the sick. Indeed, many of them, I believe, hardly thought they could sicken and die right if they had not old Sarah Humphries with them. Soon as she saw me she said, ‘Well David how dost?’ ‘Oh much after the old sort, Sarah,’ said I; ‘but that’s neither here nor there; I am come to see Dr. Franklin.[’] ‘Well

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then’ said she, ‘thou art too late, for he is just dead!’ ‘Alackaday,’ said I, ‘then a great man is gone.’ ‘Yes, indeed,’ said she, ‘and a good one too; for it seemed as though he never thought the day went away as it ought, if he had not done somebody a service. However, David, he is not the worse off for all that now, where he is gone too: [sic] but come, as thee came to see Benjamin Franklin, thee shall see him yet.’ And so she took me into his room. As we entered, she pointed to him, where he lay on his bed, and said, ‘there, did thee ever see any thing look so natural?’ And he did look natural indeed. His eyes were closed,—but that you saw he did not breathe, you would have thought he was in a sweet sleep; he looked so calm and happy. Observing that his face was fixed right towards the chimney, I cast my eyes that way and behold!

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just above the mantle piece, was a noble picture. O it was a noble picture sure enough! It was the picture of our Savior on the Cross.

I could not help calling out, ‘bless us all, Sarah! what’s all this?’ ‘What dost thou mean, David?’ said she quite crusty. ‘Why, how came this picture here, Sarah?’ said I; ‘you know that many people think he was not after this sort.’ ‘Yes,’ said she, ‘I know that too;—but thee knows that many who make a great fuss about religion, have very little, while some who say but little about it have a good deal.’ ‘That’s sometimes the case I fear, Sarah,’ said I. ‘Well, and that was the case,[’] said she, [‘]with Benjamin Franklin. But, be that as it may, David, since thee asks me about this great picture, I’ll tell thee how it came here. Many weeks ago as he lay, he beckoned me to him, and told

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me of this picture up stairs, and begged I would bring it to him. I brought it to him. His face brightened up as he looked at it; and he said, ‘aye, Sarah, there’s a picture worth looking at! that’s the picture of him who came into the world to teach men to love one another!’ Then after looking wistfully at it for some time, he said, ‘Sarah, set this picture upon the mantle-piece, right before me as I lie, for I like to look at it.’ And when I had fixed it up, he looked at it, and looked at it very much;—and indeed, as thee sees, he died with his eyes fixed on it.[’]

Bonaparte’s Opinion of Washington.

Ah gentlemen! exclaimed Bonaparte.—‘Twas just as he was about to embark for Egypt.—

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Some young Americans happening at Toulon, and anxious to see the mighty Corsican, had obtained the honors of an introduction to him. Scarcely were past the customary salutations, when he eagerly asked, ‘how fares your countryman, the great Washington?’ ‘He was very well,’ replied the youths, brightening at the thought that they were the countrymen of Washington; ‘he ws very well, General, when we left America.—‘Ah, gentlemen!’ rejoined he, ‘Washington can never be otherwise than well. The measure of his fame is full.—Posterity will talk of him with reverence as the founder of a great empire, when my name shall be lost in the vortex of Revolutions.’

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The Secret of being always happy.

There was an Italian Bishop who had struggled through great difficulties without repining, and who met with much opposition in the discharge of his Episcopal functions, without betraying the least impatience. An intimate friend of his, who highly admired those virtues, which he thought it impossible to imitate, one day asked the prelate if he would communicate the secret of being always easy. ‘Yes,’ replied the old man, ‘I can teach you my secret, and with great facility.—It consists in nothing more than making a good use of my eyes.’ His friend begged him to explain himself. ‘Most willingly,’ returned the bishop. ‘In whatsoever state I am, I first of all look up to Heaven, and I remember my principal business here is to get there.

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I then look down upon the earth, and call to mind how small a space in it I shall occupy, when I come to be interred. I then look abroad into the world, and observe what multitudes there are, who are in all respects more unhappy than myself. Then I learn where true happiness is placed, where all our cares must end and how very little reason I have to repine or complain.”

Excessive Vanity justly mortified.

The following anecdote is said to be very characteristic of Richardson. One day at his countryman’s house where a large company were assembled at dinner a gentleman, who was just returned from Paris, willing to please Mr. Richardson, mentioned to him a very flattering cir-

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cumstance; that he had seen his Clarissa lying on the King’s brother’s table. Richardson observing that part of the company were engaged in talking to each other, affected then not to attend to it. But by-and-by, when there was a general silence, and he thought the flattery might be fully heard, he addressed himself to the gentleman, ‘I think sir, you were saying something about—’ pausing in a high flutter of expectation. The gentleman, provoked at his inordinate vanity, resolved not to indulge it, and with an exquisitely sly air of indifference answered, ‘a mere trifle, sir, not worth repeating.’ The mortification of Richardson was excessive, and he did not speak ten words more the whole day.

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Remarkable fidelity of two Friends.

Many years ago, two young and enterprising adventurers left Europe, one for America and the other for the East Indies. Before their departure, they mutually agreed, that if one should die a bachellor, he should make the other his heir. The one who went East, was remarkably successful in trade, and accumulated a fortune of two millions. He died a few years since, leaving the whole of his estate to his early friend, whom the intelligence found residing in moderate circumstances, on one of the islands in lake Champlain. He is said to be little elated by this sudden hit of prosperity, which would be sufficient to overwhelm some minds. His intended residence is in a retired and rural situation, bearing no marks of parade or ostentation. The fi-

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delity of the friends, the fulfilment of a promise, after the lapse of many years, render it not less interesting than that of Damon and Pythias, to which it bears a striking analogy.

Spirit of exalted Patriotism.

The orator of the society of the Cincinnati of South Carolina, at the celebration of the national Festival on the 4th July, 1797, thus extols the magnanimity of Mrs. Rebecca Edwards.—The Spartan mother delivered his shield to her son, departing for the amy, nobly bade him return with it or upon it. The sentiment was highly patriotic; but surely not superior to that which animated the bosom of a distinguished female of our own State, who, when the British officer pre-

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sented the mandate which arrested her sons as objects of retaliation, less sensible of private affliction, than attached to their honor, and the interests of her country, stifled the tender feelings of the mother, and heroically bade them despise the threats of their enemies, and steadfastly persist to support the glorious cause in which they had engaged. That if the threatened sacrifice should follow, they would carry a parent’s blessing, and the good opinion of every virtuous citizen along with them to the grave. But if from the frailty of human nature, (of the possibility of which she would not suffer an idea to enter her bosom) they were disposed to temporize and exchange this liberty for safety, they must forget her as a mother, nor subject her to the misery of ever beholding them again.

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An excellent Reproof.

One of the Moravian Indians who had been baptized by the name of Jonathan, meeting some white people, who had entered into so violent a dispute about baptism and the holy communion, that they at last proceeded to blows. ‘These people,’ said he, ‘know nothing of our Savior; for they speak of him as we do of a strange country.’

Nobility of Soul.

Some years since a lady of New Jersey, had in her imploy [sic] a faithful servant, a native of Africa. He had lived several years in the family, and had always enjoyed their confidence, and

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was particularly valued by her deceased husband. Having one day lost a silk handkerchief for which she had made considerable search, poor Tony was at last suspected of having stolen it. ‘Tony,’ said his mistress, ‘I have lost my new handkerchief.’ Tony sympathetically replied, ‘me very sorry, mittie, me very sorry, you lost your handkercher.’ The lady pressed the subject no further, until another unavailing search was made, after which she thus accosted him at his work: ‘Tony, I have not yet found my handkerchief.’ ‘Me very sorry, mittie me very sorry, you dont find your handkercher.’ ‘Yes, but Tony the handkerchief could not get away itself.’ ‘Oh no mittie!’ smiling, ‘me know handkercher can’t walk without feet.’ His innocence, and the confidence he had so long enjoyed, rendered her inquiries still unintelligible to him. At length

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wearied by his supposed evasions, ‘Tony,’ said she, with a deliberate accent, ‘to be plain with you, I think you must have stolen it!’ ‘Me! mittie, me teal—teal—your—handkercher?’ ‘Yes, Tony, I do think you must have stolen it.’ He stood mute,—‘I have no words,’ he thought, ‘I am in a land of strangers. ’Tis by deed alone, I can manifest my abhorrence of the crime.’ An axe lay beside him.—He stretched out the hand that had so long faithfully served her, and with one blow severed from it the first joint of his little finger; then holding up his wounded hand to his accuser, ‘Me trike off all my fingers fore me teal your handkercher.’ Some time afterwards the handkerchief was found behind a drawer of the bureau, where it had been accidentally placed by the opening and shutting of the drawers. Poor Tony, however, car-

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ried with him to the grave a mark which evinced the savage grandeur, the wild nobility of his soul.

Bring up a Child in the way he should go.

On a fine morning in the fall of 1737, Mr. Washington having little George by the hand, came to the door and asked my cousin Washington and myself to walk with him to the orchard, promising him he would show us a fine sight. On arriving at the orchard, we were presented with a fine sight indeed. The whole earth, as far as we could see, was strewed with fruit; and yet the trees were bending under the weight of the apples, which hung in clusters like grapes, and vainly strove to hide their blushing cheeks behind the green leaves. ‘Now, George,’ said

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his father, ‘look here my son! don’t you remember when this good cousin of yours brought you that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I could prevail on you to divide with your brothers and sisters; though I promised you if you would do it God Almighty would give you plenty of apples this fall.’ Poor George could not say a word; but hanging down his head, looked quite confused, while with his little naked toes he scratched in the soft ground. ‘Now look up, my son,’ continued his father, ‘look up, George! and see how richly the blessed God has made my promise good to you. Wherever you turn your eyes, you see the trees loaded with fine fruit; many of them, indeed breaking down; while the ground is covered with mellow apples, more than you could eat, my son, in all your life-time.’ George looked in silence on the wide wilderness

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of fruit. He marked the busy humming bees, and heard the gay notes of birds; then lifting his eyes filled with shining moisture, to his father, he softly said, ‘well pa, only forgive me this time; and see if I ever be so stingy any more.’

Maternal Tenderness.

Nothing has been more frequently asserted, and we believe nothing is more true, than that the affection of a mother for her offspring is far the most enduring, and the strongest that is ever cherished in the human breast. And the assertion holds equally true with regard to the brute creation. We lately heard a remarkable instance of it, which fell within the observation of a gentleman in this town.—In trimming the top

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of a poplar-tree the last summer, he inadvertently left uncovered and exposed to the rays of the sun, a robin’s nest full of young robins. As the heat of the sun became intense, the hen robin was observed to place herself on the south side of the nest, standing with her wings expanded over it so as to shelter the unfledged birds; and here while her partner provided food, turning around as the sun turned, she resolutely kept her station until the cool of the evening, although it could plainly be seen by her drooping head and her tongue hanging from her mouth, that she herself was parched with heat, which she patiently suffered for the protection of her tender offspring.—If this be mere instinct what is reason?

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A salutary Lesson for Duelists.

A dispute arising between two friends, one of them a man of very hasty disposition, insisted on the other’s fighting him the next morning. The challenge was accepted on condition that they should breakfast together previous to their going to the field, at the house of the challenged. When the challenger arrived next morning according to appointment, he found every preparation for breakfast, and his friend, his wife, and children all ready to receive him. Their repast being over, and the family withdrawn without any hint of the fatal purpose having transpired, the challenger asked the other if he was ready to attend. ‘No sir,’ he replied, ‘not till we are more upon a par. That amiable woman, and those six innocent children, who just now breakfasted with

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us, depend solely upon my life for subsistence, and till you can stake something equal in my estimation to the welfare of seven persons dearer to me than the apple of my eyes, I cannot think we are equally matched.’ ‘We are not indeed,’ replied the other, giving him his hand; and they became firmer friends than ever.

Looking aloft.

Some years ago, in conversation with us, Dr. Codman said that in a voyage to sea in early life, he had seen a lad, who had just begun to be a sailor, going out to some projecting part of the rigging. His arms were supported by a spar, and he was looking below him for a rope which ran across, on which his feet should be.

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The rope flew from side to side, and it was evident that the poor fellow was becoming dizzy, and in danger of falling, when the mate shouted to him with all his force, ‘Look aloft! you sneaking lubber!’ By thus turning away his eyes from the danger, the dizziness was prevented, and he found his footing. And this incident the Doctor said, often recurred to his mind in after life, when his troubles grew heavy upon him, and he hardly could find ground whereon to tread. At such time he heard the mate shout in his ears, and turned his eyes aloft to the prize upon which he had fastened his hopes. We cannot part with this beautiful illustration, without asking each of our readers to apply it to a still nobler purpose: to steady themselves in all the tempests of adversity, by looking towards that life in which there is rest and peace evermore,—

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and when our flesh and heart shall fail us, and we can find no support under our feet, to seek it by ‘looking aloft’ to him, who is the strength of our hearts and our portion forever.

An unreasonable request Shrewdly typified.

When General Lincoln went to make peace with the Creek Indians, one of the chiefs asked him to sit down on a log. He was then desired to move, and in a few minutes to move still further. The request was repeated till the General got to the end of the log. The Indian said, ‘move further!’ To which the general replied, ‘I can move no further.’ ‘Just so it is with us,’ said the chief, ‘you have moved us back to the waters, and then ask us to move further.’

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Moral Courage.

A veteran of the revolution, in Berkshire county, Mass. whose character had long been without reproach, was visited soon after the formation of a Temperance Society in his town, and respectfully invited to cooperate with them in this work. He replied, very kindly, ‘I beg you will excuse me, gentlemen. I honor your motives and approve your proceedings, and hope youw ill have great success. But old people don’t change easily. I learned to drink when I was in the army, and have always been in the habit of taking a little with moderation, as you know, gentlemen, and now in my old age, it seems like a necessary comfort; and I can hardly think of giving it up. I hope you will succeed, and that the next generation will be wiser than their fathers;

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but really, gentlemen, I think the old soldier must be excused.’

The committee withdrew, perhaps not a little sorry to fail in obtaining the name of so worthy a man, but with no diminution of their respect or affection for one whom they all venerated as a father.

A few months afterwards, they visited the old man again, and said:—‘We have come to see you again, sir, for we find ourselves in a difficulty. We go to our neighbors who drink, and are in danger of drinking too much, and endeavor to persuade them to give it up. But they all say—‘Judge — drinks, and why should we not drink?’ The spirit of ’76 was touched. ‘Give me the paper, gentlemen,’ said the patriot; ‘it shall never be said that an old seventy sixer was found to stand in the way of

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a measure so necessary for his country as the temperance reformation. I have conquered the British, and I can give up drinking. If my name as example can do any good, it is at your service.’

True Greatness of Mind.

Tasso being told that he had a fair opportunity of taking advantage of a very bitter enemy;—‘I wish not to plunder him,’ said he, ‘but there are things I wish to take away from him; not his honor, his wealth or his life—but his ill will.’

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Exalted Talents need not the Foreign aid of Ornament.

When Doctor Franklin was received at the French Court as American minister, he felt some scruples of conscience in complying with their fashions as to dress. He hoped, he said to the minister, that as he was himself a very plain man, and represented a plain republican people, the king would indulge his desire to appear in his usual dress. Independent of this, the season of the year, he said, rendered the change from warm yarn stockings to fine silk, somewhat dangerous.

The French minister made a low bow, but said, that the fashion was too sacred a thing for him to meddle with, but he would do himself the honor to mention it to his Majesty. The king smiled, and returned word that Dr. Franklin was

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welcome to appear at court in any dress he pleased. In spite of that delicate respect for strangers, for which the French are so remarkable, the courtiers could not help staring at first at Dr. Franklin’s quaker-like dress, and especially his blue yarn stockings. But it soon appeared as though he had been introduced upon this splendid theatre only to demonstrate that great genius, like true beauty, needs not the foreign aid of ornament. The court were so dazzled with the brilliancy of his mind that they never looked at his stockings. And while many other ministers who figured in all the gaudy fashions fo the day are now forgotten, the name of Dr. Franklin is still remembered in Paris with all the ardor of the most affectionate enthusiasm.

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Grace of Benevolence.

The late Mr. Jordan possessed a heart susceptible of the most tender emotions, and these were called into action by the least approach of misery or distress.

During her short stay at Chester, where she had been performing, her washerwoman, a widow with three small children, was by a merciless creditor thrown into prison. A small debt of about forty shillings had been worked upon a short time by law expenses, into a bill of eight pounds. As soon as Mrs. Jordan heard of the circumstance, she sent for the attorney, paid him his demand, and observed, with as much severity as her good natured countenance could assume, ‘You lawyers are certainly infernal spirits, allowed on earth to make poor mortals miserable.’

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The attorney, however, pocketed the affront, and, with a low bow, made his exit. On the afternoon of the same day the poor woman was liberated. As Mrs. Jordan, with her servant, was taking her usual walk on the Chester walls, the widow, with her children followed her, and just as she had taken shelter from a shower of rain in a kind of porch, dropped on her knees, and, with much grateful emotion exclaimed, ‘God forever bless you, madam! you have saved me and my poor children from ruin.’ The children, beholding their mother’s tears, added by their cries, to the affecting scene, which a sensitive mind could not behold without strong feelings of sympathy.

The natural liveliness of Mrs. Jordan’s disposition, was not easily damped by sorrowful scenes; however, although she strove to hide it, the tears

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of feeling stole down her cheek, and stooping to kiss the children, she slipped a pound note into the mother’s hand, and in her usual playful manner, replied, ‘There, there, now it’s all over; go, good woman, God bless you—don’t say another word.’ The grateful creature would have replied, but this good Samaritan insisted on her silence and departure. It so happened that another person had taken shelter under the porch, and witnessed the whole of this interesting scene, who as soon as Mrs. Jordan observed him, came forward, and holding out his hand, exclaimed with a deep sigh, ‘Lady, pardon the freedom of a stranger: but would to the Lord, the world were all like thee!’ The figure of this man bespake his calling: his countenance was pale, and a suit of sable, rather the worse for wear, covered his tall and spare person. The penetrating

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eye of Thelia’s favorite votary, soon developed his character and profession, and, with her wonted good humor retreating a few paces, she replied, ‘No, I won’t shake hands with you.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because you are a methodist preacher, and when you know who I am, you’ll send me to the devil!’ ‘The Lord forbid! I am as you say, a preacher of the gospel of Jesus Christ, who tells us to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and relieve the distressed—and do you think I can behold a sister so cheerfully obeying the commands of my great Master without feeling that spiritual attachment which leads me to break through worldly customs, and offer you the hand of friendship and brotherly love?’ ‘Well, well, you are a good old soul, I dare say—but—I—I—don’t like fanatics; and you’ll not like me when I tell you who I am.’ ‘I hope I shall.’ ‘Well

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then, I tell you I am a player.’ The preacher sighed.—‘Yes I am a player, and you must have heard of me—Mrs. Jordan is my name.’ After a short pause, he again extended his hand, and with a complaisant countenance replied, ‘the Lord bless thee, whoever thou art, his goodness is unlimited, he has bestowed on thee a large portion of his spirit, and as to thy calling, if thy soul upbraid thee not the Lord forbid that I should. Thus reconciled, and the rain having abated, they left the porch together; the offer of his arm was accepted, and the female Rorcius of comedy, and the serious disciple of John Wesley, proceeded arm in arm to the door of Mrs. Jordan’s dwelling. At parting the preacher shook hands with her, saying, ‘Fare thee well, sister; I know not what the principles of people of thy calling may be; thou art the first I ever convers-

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ed with; but if their benevolent practice equals thine, I hope and trust, at the great day, the Almighty God will say to each, ‘Thy sins are forgiven thee.’

A Noble Child.

While the United States was drawing near the Macedonian, a child on board said to Decatur—‘Commodore, I wish you would put my name on the muster roll.’ ‘What for?’ ‘That I may get a share of the prize money.’ It was done. After the capture, The Commodore said, ‘Well Ned, she’s ours, and your share of the prize money will be about $200; what will you do with it?’ ‘I’ll send $100 to my mother, and the other shall send me to school.’—This boy is now a midshipman.

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Genuine Patriotism.

Mr. West met with munificent patronage in England, but he always retained a strong and unyielding affection for his native land. the countenance which the king nobly bestowed upon this highly gifted American, could not fail to excite envy among his courtiers. A malicious individual, knowing his partiality for the land of his birth, resolved to make him give some unguarded proof of it which would be unpleasant to his majesty, incensed as he then was against the American colonies. With an air of much satisfaction, he one day informed the king that the Americans had lately met with a most disastrous defeat; and turning to Mr. West he exultingly asked, ‘how do you like these tidings, sir?’ Mr. West, bowing low to his majesty, answered,

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‘I am a loyal and grateful subject to my king, but I can never rejoice at any misfortune which befals my native land.’ ‘A noble reply,’ said his sovereign; ‘and I assure you Mr. West, no man will ever fall in my estimation, because he loves his country.’ Mr. West retained his love of America to the day of his death; and he refused immense sums for some of his most magnificent pictures, which he painted as affectionate gifts to the public institutions of his native state.

Noble instance of Humanity.

The Emperor in one of his journeys through Poland, being considerably in advance of his attendants, saw several persons assembled on the banks of the little river Wilie, and approaching

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the spot, found that they had just dragged out of the water a peasant who appeared to be lifeless. He instantly alighted, had the man laid on the side of the bank, and immediately proceeded to strip him, and to rub his temples, wrists, &c. The emperor was thus employed when his suit joined him, whose exertions were immediately added to those of the emperor. Dr. Wylly, his majesty’s physician, attempted to bleed the patient, but in vain, and after three hour’s fruitless attempts to recover him, the doctor declared that it was useless to proceed any further. The emperor, much chagrined, and fatigued with the continued exertions, entreated Dr. Wylly to persevere and to make a fresh attempt to bleed him. The Doctor though he had not the slightest hope of being successful, proceeded to obey the positive injunction of his imperial majesty, who, with

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Prince Wolkousby and Count Lieven, (now embassador [sic] at the British court,) made a last effort at rubbing, &c. At length the emperor had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing the blood make its appearance, while the poor peasant uttered a feeble groan. The emotions of his imperial majesty, at this moment could not be described; and in the plenitude of his joy he exclaimed ‘Good God! this is the brightest day of my life;’ while tears involuntarily stole down his cheek. Their exertions were now redoubled; the emperor tore his handkerchief, and bound the arm of the patient, nor did he leave him until he was quite recovered. He then had him conveyed to a place where proper care could be taken of him, ordered him a considerable present, and afterwards provided for him and his family.

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True Politeness.

Sir William Gooch, governor of Virginia being in conversation with a gentleman in a street of the city of Williamsburgh, returned the salute of a negro who was passing by. ‘Sir,’ said the gentleman, ‘does your honor descend so far as to salute a slave?’—‘Why, yes;’ replied the governor, ‘I cannot suffer a man of his condition to exceed me in good manners.’

Riches without Virtue cannot produce Happiness.

Laboria began in the world with a small estate, which hardly supplied him with the necessaries of life. He fancied, that a small addition

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would give him perfect contentment. He attained it, but his anxiety for more was not diminished. By his industry and prudence and what the men of the world call ‘good fortune,’ he advanced far beyond what he once calculated would afford complete enjoyment. This brought him into connection with men of fashionable and high life; it became necessary, he thought, to alter his mode of living. An elegant house was erected, and furnished in style; his table spread with more than ordinary cost; servants employed, horses and carriages provided, and he assumed the dress and appearance of a gentleman. He now believed it as necessary to provide for all these expenditures, as he did at first to provide for the common necessaries of life. His anxiety and labor for more, therefore, continued to increase. He then said, if he could acquire prop-

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erty sufficient to meet his expenditures by his income his desire would be satisfied. He shortly arrived at this state. But a fear of losing his capital, the unfaithfulness of servants, high living without proper exercise, &c. now rendered him more uneasy than before.

Could Laboria have enjoyed godliness with contentment, he might have been happy though poor; but with neither godliness nor contentment, unhappy though rich.

Profitable Rebuke.

One day as the emperor was walking in the Bates of Vienna, as he often did alone, without any suite, he met a young woman whom he did not know and who seemed in great affliction;

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I think she was even lamenting her fate very bitterly, without suspecting by whom she was overheard. Joseph approached her, and enquired into the cause of her lamentations. The young woman perceiving a person unknown to her who seemed to take an interest in her sorrows, related to him, with much simplicity, that her father, an officer in—I know not what regiment, having been killed in the service of the empress-queen, her mother having no one to protect her, or take any interest in her behalf, had fallen into great distress, and this had been considerably increased by the late scarcity. She added ‘that having been supported principally by the work of their own hands, this resource was now about to fail since the hardness of the times daily diminished the number of those by whom their works could be purchased, so that she was fearful they might

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soon be reduced to the utmost misery.’ The emperor inquired whether they had ever received any assistance from the government? She answered, none.—He then inquired, why her mother had never thought of soliciting the emperor for relief, as he was so easy of access? ‘They say he is avaricious,’ she replied, ‘and we therefore thought that such a step would be useless.’—The monarch profited by the lesson thus innocently given him; he gave the young woman some ducats and a ring, telling her that ‘he had the honor of being in the emperor’s service, and would endeavor to recommend her to his majesty.’ He then appointed a day and hour, on which he desired her to come, with her mother, to the emperor’s apartments, as he should be on duty that day, and he hoped he might be able to bring her some good news. He added, that she

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need only present the ring he had given her, she would then be admitted into the emperor’s private apartment, where he concluded, you will find me. The young woman thought she had been talking with a tutelar angel, nor was she mistaken, and hastening home immediately, imparted the fortunate adventure, she had met with to her mother. The emperor, in the mean time made inquiries into the truth of the young woman’s story, and finding it confirmed, he waited for the moment he had appointed to receive her in his private apartment. She did not fail to come with her mother, in hopes of finding her benefactor, and returning him the ring; she, indeed, knew him again the moment she saw him, but, at the same time she perceived, by the respect paid him, that it was the emperor himself. She then called to mind what she had said on the

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subject of his avarice, and turned pale with apprehension. His imperial majesty bade her not be alarmed and then informed the mother that he had settled a pension upon her, from the army finds, he turned to the daughter and said; ‘another time I hope you will not despair of a heart that is just;’ words worthy of being enrolled in the archives of humanity.

Good returned for Evil.

When we arrived at Albany, says the baroness Riedesel, where we so often wished ourselves, but where we did not enter as we expected we should—victors! we were received by the good General Schuyler, his wife and daughters, not as enemies, but kind friends; and they treated

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us with the most marked attention and politeness, as they did General Burgoyne, who had caused General S.’s beautifully finished house to be burned; in fact they behaved like persons of excalted minds, who determined to bury all reccolection [sic] of their own injuries in the contemplation of our misfortunes. General Burgoyne was struck with General Schuyler’s generosity and said to him, ‘you show me great kindness although I have done you much injury.’ ‘That was the fate of war,’ replied the brave man, ‘let us say no more about it.’

Memorable display of Courage and Benevolence.

During the war at the beginning of the French revolution, Dona Caro used to attend her hus-

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band General Don Venturo Caro, who commanded the Spanish army in the neighborhood of Yron. At the beginning of the engagement this lady was accustomed to take her station in the battery of San Carlos, whereon was erected the signal post for the left wing of the army. She held the telescope in her hand, through which she viewed her husband, while he exposed himself to the firing as a common soldier; neither the firing of 12 twenty-four pounders, which were placed around her, nor the bombs which fell beside her could move her; the telescope never trembled in her hand. In the interval of hostility, she employed herself in visiting the hospitals, and contributing to allay the distresses of the sick and wounded. Such an instance of courage and benevolence is scarcely to be paralleled. She preferred witnessing the conflicts and

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the fate of her husband, to the anxiety of mind she knew she must have suffered till she could have heard it from others.

The nobler and greater Motive.

A French officer who was prisoner under his parole, at Reading, met with a Bible. He read it, and was so struck with its contents, that he was convinced of the folly of sceptical principles, and the truth of Christianity, and resolved to become a protestant. When his gay associates rallied him for taking so serious a turn, he said in his vindication, ‘I have done no more than my old schoolfellow Bernadoth, who is become a Lutheran.’ ‘Yes, but he became so,’ said his associates, ‘to obtain a crown.’ ‘My motive,’

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said the Christian officer, ‘is the same; we only differ as to place. The object of Bernadoth is to obtain a crown in Sweden, mine is to obtain a crown in Heaven.’

Goodness and Nobleness of Heart.

‘Immediately after the war,’ said Payne, ‘when the conquering hero returned in peace to his home, with the laurels of victory green and flourishing on his head, I felt a great desire to see him, and so set out for Mount Vernon. As I drew near the house, I began to experience a rising fear, lest he should call to mind the blow I had given him in former days. However, animating myself, I pushed on. Washington met me at the door with a smiling welcome, and pres-

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ently led me into an adjoining room, where Mrs. Washington sat.’ ‘Here, my dear,’ said he, presenting me to his lady, ‘here is the little man you have so often heard me talk of; and who, on a difference between us, one day, had the resolution to knock me down, big as I am. I know you will honor him as he deserves; for I assure you he has the heart of a true Virginian.’ ‘He said this,’ continued Mr. Payne, ‘with an air which convinced me that his long familiarity with war, had not robbed him of a single spark of the goodness and nobleness of his heart. And Mrs. Washington looked at him I thought, with a something in her eyes, which showed that he appeared to her greater and lovelier than ever.

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Pleasing manifestation of Gratitude.

Reuben Roury of Virginia, owed General Washington about £1000. While President of the United States, one of his agents brought an action for the money, judgment was obtained, and execution issued against the body of the defendent, who was taken to jail. He had considerable landed estate but this kind of property cannot be sold in Virginia for debts, unless at the discretion fo the person. He had a large family, and for the sake of his children prefered lying in jail, to selling his land. A friend hinted to him, that probably, General Washington did not know any thing of the proceeding, and that it might be well to send him a petition, with a statement of the circumstance. He did so, and the very next post from Philadelphia, after

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the arrival of the petition in that city, brought him an order for his immediate release, together with a full discharge and a severe reprimand to the agent for having acted in such a manner. Poor Roury was, in consequence, restored to his family, who never laid down their heads at night, without presenting prayers to Heaven for their beloved Washington. Providence smiled upon the labors of the grateful family, and in a few years, Roury enjoyed the exquisite pleasure of being able to lay the £1000 with the interest, at the feet of this truly great man. Washington reminded him that the debt was discharged; Roury replied, the debt of his family to the father of their country and preserver of their parent could never be discharged;—and the general, to avoid the pleasing importunity of the grateful Virginian, who would not be denied, accept-

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ed the money, only, however, to divide it among Roury’s children, which he immediately did.

The Lion roars loudest when most frightened.

In the commencement of the American revolution, when one of the British king’s thundering proclamations made its appearance the subject was mentioned in a company in Philadelphia. A member of congress who was present, turning to Mrs. Livingston said, ‘well, madam, are you not greatly terrified at the roaring of the British Lion.’ ‘Not at all, sir, for I have learned from natural history that that beast roars loudest when he is most frightened.’

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Example of the highest order of Sublimity.

The following similitude is of an high order of eloquence; it is an example of sublimity of the very tenderest description. The man who defended the cities of Judah; who subdued the pride of the children of Ammon and of Esau; who returned charged with the spoils of Samaria, after having burnt upon their own altars the gods of the heathens—that man whom God had set around Israel as a wall of brass, against which the forces of Asia were broken to pieces, who, having defeated numerous armies, disconcerted the ablest and the proudest generals of the kings of Syria—came every year, in common with the meanest of the Israelites, to repair with his triumphant hands the ruins of the sanctuary; and wished to have no other recompense for the

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good he had rendered to his country, than the honor of having done it some service. This valiant man pursuing, with a courage invincible, the enemy whom he had compelled to a shameful flight, received at last his death wound, falling, as it were, overwhelmed in the triumph he had achieved. On the first report of this disastrous event, all the cities of Judah were deeply affected; rivers of tears flowed from the eyes of their inhabitants, they were in one moment overcome, mute, immovable. After a long and mournful silence, they at last cried out in a voice broken by the sighs which sadness, pity, fear, forced from their hearts, ‘How is the mighty fallen who saved the people of Israel.’ At these words all Jerusalem wept more and more; the roofs of the temple shook; the Jordan was troubled, and all its banks reechoed the mournful strains: How is

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the mighty fallen who saved the people of Israel!’ In 1686, Flechier was nominated to the bishopric of Lavans; on which occasion Louis 14, paid him the following handsome compliment:—‘I have,’ said he, ‘made you wait some time for a place which you have long deserved, but I was unwilling sooner to deprive myself of the pleasure of hearing you.’

Philanthropy of La Fayette.

In the year 1787, there was a distructive [sic] fire in Boston, in consequence of which many of the inhabitants were reduced to want. The Marquis La Fayette, who was then in France, having heard of the calamity, immediately wrote to his friend, Samuel Breek of Boston, expressing

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his sympathy for the sufferers, and directing him to draw a bill on him for 300, pounds sterling, to be applied towards their relief. The bill was accordingly drawn, and the money was received, and applied according to his directions.

Mr. Breek’s son still preserves this letter as a precious memorial of the philanthropy and American feeling of La Fayette.

This American feeling has indeed been manifested throughout his whole life. His only son bears the name of George Washington, and his two daughters are called Carolina and Virginia.

Heroism of Compassion.

Mr. William Tewksbury and his son were at work near Winthrop’s head Deer Island, when a

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boy came running from Point Shirley, and told them that a pleasure boat had upset between Deer Island and Long Island. Mr. T. and son immediately set a small foresail in their canoe, and run for Broad Sound. He stood in a direction for Long Island nearly half a mile, without discovering the object of his search. This induced him to keep on the same course, and in a short time he saw heads above water; and as they rose and fell, it seemed that twenty were buffeting with the waves, and contending against death. His light canoe already nearly buried herself in the waves, and he well knew the extreme peril of himself and son if his frail bark should be seized on by men in the agonies of death. However, he took in his sail, and rowed among the drowning men, resolved to save some or perish in the attempt. By an almost incredi-

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ble exertion of skill, he saved seven, and was attempting to save the eighth, when his son exclaimed, ‘father! father! the canoe is sinking.’ This exclamation called his attention to their dangerous situation. Six inches of water in the canoe; nine on board; her gunwale only three inches above water; the wind high; the sea violent; and nearly a mile from land. In order to save nine they were obliged to leave one unfortunate man hanging on the stern of the jolly belonging to the pleasure boat. Five of the rescued men were apparently lifeless, and Mr. T. not having room to row, was obliged to paddle before the wind till they reached the extremity of sound point, when the canoe struck, and filled with water. Great exertions were necessary to save the five helpless men in the bottom of the boat. Mrs. Tewksbury gave her assistance at

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this time and was much injured by a convulsive grasp of agony from one of the sufferers. They were all conveyed to Mr. T.’s house, where they finally recovered. Mr. T. hastened back to the relief of the man on the jolly boat, with all possible expidition; [sic] but the waters had closed over him. Eleven were in the pleasure boat when she overset; and seven were saved.

A Generous Enemy.

Although the temper of Charles 12 was severe, the following anecdote will prove that he was a generous enemy. He took the fort of Dunamond after a smart seige, [sic] as the governor, colonel Canitz, held it out against him for a long time. Charles was so well pleased with his de-

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termined conduct, that as he marched out of the fort he said to him, ‘You are my enemy, and yet I love you as well as my best friend; for you have behaved yourself like a brave soldier in defence of this fort against my troops: and to show you that I can esteem and reward valor even in my enemies, I make you a present of these five thousand ducats.’

Death before Dishonor.

A number of citizens belonging to Massachusetts and New York, who had, in the year 1788, purchased of the state of Massachusetts a large tract of land lying westward of New York, and within the territories of the Six Nations, sent a committee into the Indian country, to treat with

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the natives about a quit claim. The Indians heard of their coming, and supposing them to be another company, who were aiming at the same purchase, sent them word to come no further, lest they should be involved in trouble. The committee having advanced a considerable distance into their country, were unwilling to retrace their steps without effecting the object of their mission. One of them, Major Schuyler, wrote a letter to the commanding officer at fort Niagara, explaining their intentions, and requesting his influence with the Indians in removing their misapprehensions. One of the Indian messengers undertook to carry the letter to Niagara, and bring back the answer. The committee remained where they were. In the mean time Major Schuyler was taken sick, and sent towards Albany. The messenger returned; and being ask-

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ed if he had got a letter in answer to the one he had taken, he told them (through the interpreter) that he had; but looking round, observed, ‘I do not see the man to whom I promised to deliver it.’ They informed him of the cause of the major’s absense; [sic] but told him they were all engaged in the same business, had one heart, and that the letter was intended for them all; and wished he would deliver it. He refused. They consulted among themselves, and offered him fifty dollars as a reward for his service and an inducement to deliver them the letter. He spurned at their proposal. They again consulted, and concluded as they were sufficiently numerous to overpower him and the other Indians who were present, they would take it by force; but first requested the interpreter to explain to him the whole matter, the difficulty they were in, their

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loss of time, &c. and their determination to have the letter. As soon as this was communicated to the Indian, he sternly clenched the letter in one hand, drew his knife with the other, and solemnly declared that if they should get the letter by violence, he would not survive the disgrace, but would plunge the knfie in his own breast. They desisted from their purpose and reasoned with him again, but he was inflexible. They then asked him if he was willing, after having gone so long a journey, to go a hundred miles further for the sake of delivering the letter to major [sic] Schuyler. He answered, ‘Yes, I do not value fatigue; but, I will never be guilty of a breach of trust. Accordingly he went, and had the satisfaction of completing his engagement. The letter was favorable to their views, and they entered into a treaty for the land.

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Why should I fear?

A chief of the Creek Indians, having been appointed to negociate a treaty of peace with the citizens of South Carolina, and having met the proper authorities for that purpose, was desired by the governor to speak his mind freely and without reserve; for, as he was among his friends, he need not be afraid. ‘I will,’ said he, ‘speak freely; I will not be afraid. Why should I be afraid among my friends, who am never afraid among my enemies.’

Joy of Approbation.

Man is a creature of feeling as well as intellect, and while he [is directed] by the one, he is

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often moved by the other. The following instance will show how the approbation and kindness of others affect the human mind.

The admirers of the celebrated composer, Haydn, who were exceedingly numerous, were very desirous of testifying their regard to him in his old age, in a public manner, by performing the Creation, one of Haydn’s chief works. The room contained about one thousand five hundred persons, and it was full two hours before he arrived. As soon as it was known that he was coming, the eagerness of the audience could scarcely be contained. Some of the first rank waited to receive him. The illustrious old man was borne on a chair to the place reserved for him, amidst the acclamations [sic] of an enthusiastic audience. Such was the effect of the scene, that oppressed at once with joy and infirmaty, [sic] with a

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faltering voice he exclaimed, ‘This is more than I have ever felt; let me die now, and be received among the blessed in another world!’

When the performance was ended, he was taken out with the same triumph as he entered. He raised his arms, as it were, to leave his blessing on the assembly, and just two months and a half afterwards he expired, in his seventy sixth year.

If Haydn was so deeply affected at the kindness of his friends, and thought there was nothing worth living for after this, how much more may the Christian rejoice in the approbation of his Lord, and enjoying an interest in Christ, may willingly leave this world to be with the blessed above.

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[Transcriber’s note: This anecdote has no title.]

I was one Saturday travelling through the county of Orange, on the eastern side of the Blue Ridge, says West, in his British spy, when my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied near a ruinous wooden house, in the forest, not far from the road side. Having frequently seen such objects before, I had no difficulty in understanding that this was a place of religious worship. Curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness, induced me to join the congregation. On my entrance, I was struck with his supernatural appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man; his head, which was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, and his voice, were all shaking under the influence of palsy; and a few moments ascertained to me that he was perfectly blind. It was the day of sacra-

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ment—his subject was the passion of our Savior; and he gave it a new and more sublime pathos than I had ever before witnessed. When he descended from the pulpit to distribute the mystic symbols, there was a peculiar, a more than human solemnity in his voice and manner which made my blood run cold, and my whole frame shiver. His peculiar phrases had that force of description, that the original scene seemed acting before our eyes. We saw the very faces of the Jews; the staring, frightful distortions of malice and of rage. But when he came to touch on the patience, the forgiving meekness of our Savior; when he drew to the life his blessed eyes streaming with tears; his voice breathing to God the gentle prayer, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do’—the voice of the preacher, which had all along faltered, grew fainter and

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fainter, until his voice being entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect was inconceivable. The whole house resounded with mingled groans, and sobs, and shrieks. I could not imagine how the speaker could let his audience down from the height to which he had wound them, without impairing the solemnity of the subject, or shocking them by the abruptness of his fall. But the descent was as beautiful and sublime, as the elevation had been rapid and enthusiastic. The tumult of feeling subsided, and a deathlike stillness reigned throughout the house, when the aged man removed the handkerchief from his eyes, still wet with the torrent of his tears, and slowly stretching forth his palsied hand, he exclaimed, ‘Socrates died like a philosopher,[’]

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—then pausing, clasping his hands with fervor to his heart, and lifting his ‘sightless balls’ to heaven, and pouring his whole soul into his tremulous voice, he continued—‘but Jesus Christ died like a God.’ Had he been an angel of light, the effect could have scarcely been more divine.

Noble Conduct.

The Earl of Effingham having uniformly opposed, in the British parliament, the whole system of measures pursued against the Americans, upon finding that the regiment to which he belonged was ordered to Boston, and thinking it inconsistent with his character, beneath his dignity, and highly dishonorable, to enforce measures with his sword which he had utterly condemned in his

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legislative capacity, on the 12th of March, 1776, he wrote a letter of resignation to the secretary of war; in which he deeply deplored his being necessitated to quit the military profession; and said, ‘I cannot without reproach from my own conscience, consent to bear arms against my fellow subjects in America, in what, to my discernment, is not a clear cause.’ It is much to be lamented that all men holding influential situations in society, do not make it a point of honor to consider the merits of the cause wherein they are to be employed; and when their honors, consciences and judgments are not satisfied, act like the truly noble Effingham.

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Equity of Sir Matthew Hale.

A gentleman of considerable independence at — had two sons, the eldest of whom caused him much anxiety from his dissipated character and conduct; the young man himself, tired of restraint, asked permission of his father to go to some foreign clime, which was readily granted, and a sum of money advanced for that purpose. He had not, however, long left home, before the ship he was on board of was taken by the Algerines, and consequently he was taken prisoner to Algiers, where he remained a considerable number of years without the least opportunity offering of his sending, or hearing from home; at length, however, he fortunately effected his escape, and returned to his native land, almost destitute of clothing, and entirely pennyless; when

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he arrived at the village where he drew his first breath, to his first inquiry he was informed that his father had been dead many years and his younger brother in full possession of the estates; on this information he proceeded immediately to his brother’s house, where on his arrival, he stated who he was, and recounted his misfortunes. He was at first received with evident tokens of surprise; but what was his astonishment, after his brother had a little recovered himself, to find that he (the younger brother) was determined to treat him as an imposter, and ordered him to quit the house, for that he had a number of witnesses to prove the death of his elder brother abroad! Being thus received, he returned to the village but met with no success, as those who would have been likely to give him assistance were either dead, or gone away; in this predicament he suc-

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ceeded in finding an attorney at a little distance, to whom he related the circumstances exactly as they stood, and requested his advice. The attorney seeing the desperate state in which the affair stood, observed, that as his brother was in possession, he would be likely to have recourse to every unjust means, by suborning witnesses, &c, but, however, he would undertake to advocate his cause, on condition that if he proved successful, he should be paid a thousand pounds; if the contrary, said the attorney, (as you have nothing to give) I shall demand nothing: to this proposal, of course the elder brother agreed. It should be remarked that at this time, bribery and corruption were at such a pitch, that it was no uncommon circumstance for judge, jury, &c, in short the whole court to be perverted on one side or the other; the lawyer naturally concluded, this

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being the case, that the elder brother stood but a very indifferent chance, although he himself had no doubt of the validity of his claim; in this dilemma he resolved to take a journey to London, and lay the case before Sir Matthew Hale, then Lord Chief Justice of the King’s bench, a character no less conspicuous for his abilities than for his unshaken integrity and strict impartiality. Sir Matthew heard the relation of the circumstances with patience, as likewise the attorney’s suspicions of the means that would be adopted to deprive the elder brother of his right. He (Sir Matthew) desired him to go on with the regular process of the law, and leave the rest to him. Thus matters rested until the day of trial came on; a few days previous to which, Sir Matthew left home, and travelled until he came within a short distance of the town where the matter

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was to be decided, when passing a miller’s house, h[e] directed his coachman to stop while he alighted from his carriage, and went into the house; after saluting the miller, he told him he had a request to make, which he hoped would be complied with, which was, to exchange clothes with him and allow him to leave his carriage, &c. there until he returned (in a day or two.) The miller at first thought Sir Matthew was joking; but on being assured to the contrary he would fain have brought his best suit; but no, Sir Matthew would have none but the working dress the miller had on; the exchange was soon effected, and Sir Matthew, equipped with the miller’s clothes, hat and wig, proceeded on foot the following morning.

Undersanding the trial between the two brothers was to take place that day, he went early to

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the yard of the court hall, without having had communication with any one on the subject. By mixing in the crowd, he had soon an opportunity of having the elder brother pointed out to him. He soon after accosted him with ‘Well, my friend, how is your cause likely to go on,’ ‘I do not know,’ replied he, ‘but I am afraid but badly, for I have every reason to suppose that both judge and jury are deeply bribed; and for myself, having nothing but the justness of my cause to depend on, unsupported by the property which my brother can command, I have but faint hopes of succeeding.’ He then recounted to the supposed miller the whole of his tale, and finished by informing him of the agreement which had taken place between him and the lawyer. Although Sir Matthew was in possession of the principal part of the circumstances, yet the in-

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genuous relation he had now heard, left no doubt in his mind of his being the person he represented himself, and consequently heir to the estate in question. Sir Matthew being determined to act accordingly, he with this view, begged of the elder brother not to be low spirited on the subject, ‘for,’ says he, ‘perhaps it may be in my power to be of service to you.’ The elder brother willingly caught at any thing that might give the least prospect of success, and readily promised to adopt any reasonable plan he might propose. ‘Well, then,’ says the pretended miller, ‘when the names of the jury are called over, do you object to one of them, no matter whom; the judge will perhaps ask you what your objections are; let your reply be, I object to him by the rights of an Englishman, without giving my reasons why; you will then, perhaps, be asked whom you

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would wish to have in the room of the one you have objected to; should that be the case I’ll take care to be in the way; you can look round and carelessly mention me. If I am empannelled, although I cannot promise, yet I entertain great hopes of being useful to you.[’]

The elder brother promised to follow these directions, and shortly after the trial came on, when the names of the jury were called over, the elder brother, as he had been instructed, objected to one of them. ‘And pray,’ says the judge, in an authoritative tone, ‘why do you object to that gentleman as a juryman?’ ‘I object to him, my lord by the rights of an Englishman, without giving you my reasons why.’ ‘And whom,’ says the judge, ‘do you wish to have in the room of that gentleman.’ ‘I would wish to have an honest man, my lord, no matter who,’ looking round,

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‘suppose yon miller be called.’ ‘Very well,’ says his lordship, ‘let the miller be sworn.’ He was accordingly called from the gallery where he had been standing in view of the elder brother, and empannelled with the rest of the jury. He had not been long in the box when he perceived a little man very busy with the jury, and presently he came to him and slipped five guineas into his hand, intimating it was a present from the younger brother; and after his departure the miller discovered that each of his neighbors had received double that sum. He now turned his whole attention to the trial, which appeared to lean decidedly in favor of the younger brother. His lordship proceeded to sum up the evidences, but without taking notice of several palpable contradictions which had taken place between the younger brother and his witnesses. After hav-

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ing expatiated with perfidy on every evidence in favor of the younger brother, he concluded; and the jury being questioned in the usual manner, if they were all agreed, the foreman was about to reply, not expecting any opposition, when the miller stepped forward, calling out ‘No, my lord, we are not all agreed!’ ‘and pray,’ says his lordship, ‘what objections have you, old dusty wig?’ ‘I have many objections, my lord: in the first place, all these gentlemen of the jury have received ten broad pieces of gold from the younger brother, and I have received but five!’ He then proceeded to point out the contradictory evidence which had been adduced, in such a strain of eloquence, that the court was lost in astonishment; the judge at length, unable longer to contain himself, called out with vehemence, ‘who are you? where do you come from? what is your

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name?’ To which interrogatories the miller replied; ‘I came from Westminster Hall—my name is Matthew Hale—I am Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King’s Bench, and feeling, as I do, a thorough conviction of your unworthiness, to hold so high a judicial situation, from having observed your iniquitous and partial proceedings this day, I command you to come down from that tribunal which you have so much disgraced; and I will try this cause myself.’ Sir Matthew then ascended the bench in the miller’s wig, &c., had a new jury empannelled—reexamined all the witnesses, proved them to have been suborned; and the circumstances being completely turned, the case was decidedly pronounced in favor of the elder brother’s rights.

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Glorious Example.

When Colonel Washington was stationed at Alexandria, in 1754, there was an election for members of the Assembly, when Mr. W. Payne, opposed the candidate supported by Washington. in the course of the contest, Washington grew warm, and said something offensive to Mr. Payne, who at one blow, extended him on the ground. The regiment heard that their Colonel was murdered by the mob, and they were soon under arms, and in rapid motion to the town to inflict punishment on the supposed murderers. To their great joy he came out to meet them, thanking them, for such a proof of attachment, but conjuring them by their love for him and their duty, to return peaceably to their barracks. Feeling himself to be the aggressor, he resolved to make

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honorable reparation. Early next morning, he wrote a polite note to Mr. Payne, requesting to see him at the tavern. Payne repaired to the place appointed, in expectation of a duel; but what was his surprise to see wine and glasses in liew [sic] of pistols. Washington rose to meet him, and smiling as he offered his hand, began: Mr. Payne, to err is nature; to rectify error is glory. I believe I was wrong yesterday; you have already had some satisfaction, and if you deem that sufficient, here is my hand let us be friends.’ An act of such sublime virtue produced its proper effect, and, Mr. Payne was from that moment an enthusiastic admirer of Washington.

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Abhorrence of Treachery.

In the siege of Falisei by Camillus, general of the Romans, the Schoolmaster of the town, who had the children of the senators under his care, led them abroad under the pretext of recreation, and carried them to the Roman Camp, saying to Camillus, that by this artifice he had delivered Falisei into his hands. Camillus abhorring this treachery, observed, ‘That there were laws for war as well as peace; and that the Romans were taught to make war with integrity, not less than with courage.[’] He ordered the Schoolmaster to be stripped, his hands to be bound behind his back, and to be delivered to the boys to be lashed back into town. The Falisians, formerly obstinate in resistance, struck with an act of justice so illustrious, delivered themselves up to the

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Romans, convinced, that they would be far better to have the Romans for their allies, than for their enemies.

Sublime and Beautiful.

Chateneuf, Keeper of the Seals to Louis 13th when a boy of only nine years old, was asked many questions by a Bishop, and gave very prompt answers to them all. At length the prelate said, ‘I will give you an orange if you will tell me where God is.’ ‘My Lord,’ replied the boy, ‘I will give you two oranges if you will tell me where he is not.’

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After the anointing was over in the Abbey, and [t]he crown put upon the king’s head with great shouting the two archbishops came to hand him down from the throne to receive the sacrament. He told them he would not go to the Lord’s supper and partake of that ordinance with the crown upon his head; for he looked upon himself when appearing before the King of kings in no other character than as a humble Christian. These were his very words. The bishop replied, that although there was no precedent for this it should be complied with. [I]mmediately he put off his crown, and laid it aside; he then desired the same should be done with respect to the queen. It was answered that her crown was so pinned on her head that it could

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not easily be taken off. To which the king replied, ‘Well let it be reckoned a part of her dress and in no other light.’ ‘When I saw and heard this,’ says one, ‘it warmed my heart to him; and I could not help thinking there would be something good found about him towards the Lord God of Israel.’

Beautiful Record of Humanity.

During the presidency of the late venerable patriarch John Adams, the whiskey insurrection took place in Pennsylvania, which, as is well known to our readers, created much excitement throughout the country; and a number of persons were arrested on a charge of high treason. Among them was a German by the name of

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John Fries, who was after an impartial trial, sentenced to be hung, which sentence received the sanction of President Adams. From a communication in the Democratic Press, we copy the following affecting account of the manner in which his pardon was procured. The recital is full of interest. Fries was an aged man and had a family consisting of a wife and ten children. Some short time previous to the period of his expected execution, his aged companion arrived in the city with her ten children, one of the number being very young. When her arrival became generally known, her appearance and her numerous progeny excited great commisseration. The sympathy manifested was such, that the voice of Philadelphia was simultaneously in favor of a pardon. Accordingly a petition was prepared and signed by thousands:—and through

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the influence of friends and audience was solicited of the President and acquiesced in. Upon advertisement, however it was considered of vital importance to the fate of Fries, that his consort, accompanied by her numerous offspring, should present the petition. A few confidential persons conducted her to the presence of President Adams. As soon as they approached him, the aged matron with her ten children, kneeled before the President, and in that humble posture sued for the life of her husband, and the father of her innocent children. Upon this presentation the President became so deeply affected, that tears, in great profusion, flowed down his manly cheek. His utterance was completely choaked, and with streaming eyes and hands raised towards heaven, he pushed from the room of audience to his

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closet, and returned and presented Mrs. Fries with a free and full pardon for her husband.

The scene as represented by those who were present, was the most affecting that conception can paint. A wife with ten children prostrate, almost overcome with agonizing despondency, pleading for the life of a husband and parent, was far more eloquent than language can portray.

Grateful Minstrel.

A minstrel called Blondel, who owed his fortune to Richard Cour de Lion, animated with tenderness towards his illustrious master—who on his return from the crusades had been imprisoned by the emperor—resolved to go over the

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world, until he had discovered the destiny of this prince. He had already traversed Europe, and was returning through Germany, when at Litz, in Austria, he learnt that there was near that city, at the entrance of a forest, a strong and ancient castle, in which there was a prisoner who was guarded with great care. A secret impulse persuaded Blondel that this prisoner was Richard. He went immediately to the castle, the sight of which made him tremble. He got acquainted with a peasant who often went there to carry provisions, and questioned him;—but the man was ignorant of the name and quality of the prisoner. He could only inform him, that he was watched with the most exact attention, and was suffered to have no communication with any one but the keeper of the castle and his servants. He told him that this castle was a hor-

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rid abode, that the staircase and the apartments were black with age, and so dark, that at noonday it was necessary to have lighted flambeaux to find the way along them. He added that the prisoner had no other amusement than looking over the country through a small grated window, which served also for the light that glimmered into his apartments.

Blondel listened with eager attention, and meditated several ways of coming at the prisoner, but all in vain. At last, when he found that from the height and narrowness of the window he could not get a sight of his dear master, for so he firmly believed him to be, he recollected a French song, the last couplet of which had been composed by Richard, and the first by himself. After he had sung with a loud and harmonious voice the first part, he suddenly stopped, and

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heard a voice which came from the castle window continue, and finish the song. Transported with joy, he was now assured it was the king his master, who was confined in this dismal castle. The chronicle adds, that one of the keeper’s servants falling sick, Blondel got himself hired in his place; and thus at last obtained personal access to Richard. The nobility of England were informed with all possible expedition of the situation of their monarch, and he was released from his confinement, by the payment of a large ransom, though but for the extraordinary perseverance of the grateful Blondel, he might have wasted out his days in the prison to which he had been treacherously consigned.

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Koskiusco [sic].

Thaddeus Kosciusco [sic] was very young when he was informed that the Americans were preparing to shake off the yoke of Brit[ai]n. His ardent and generous mind eagerly caught at the opportunity thus off[e]red for aspiring genius, and from that moment he became the devoted soldier of liberty. His rank in the American army gave him no great opportunity to distinguish himself, but he was remarked throughout his service for all the qualities that adorn humanity. His heroism in the field could only be equalled by his moderation and affability in private life. The soldiers idolized him for his bravery, and the officers respected him for the goodness of his heart and the greatness of his mind. He might have remained under the protection of Washington,

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who loved and honored him, and in the bosom of a nation for whose independence he had so bravely fought. But he had drank deep at the fountain of freedom, and Poland had a sacred claim to all his efforts and all his services.

How bravely and successfully he defended that unhappy country against Russia, is well known. To the eternal disgrace of the Empress Catherine, who kept him in the dungeon of Petersburg, when she no longer had any thing to fear from him. Her successor the emperor Paul, gave him his liberty, and offered him a present of fifty thousand ducats; but General Kosciusko refused it, prefering to depend for subsistence on the pay to which his services in America entitled him. With this scanty fortune he lived awhile in the United States: then in France and lastly in Switzerland.

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On the invasion of France, 1814, some Polish troops in the Russian service passed through the village where the exiled patriot then lived. Their pillaging brought Kosciusko to the door. When I was a Polish soldier, said he, the property of the peaceful citizen was respected.

And who art thou[,] said an officer, who addresses us in this tone of authority? I am Kosciusko! There was a magic in the word. The march was suspended. The soldiers gathered round him, and as they gazed with astonishment and awe upon the mighty ruin he presented, their iron hearts were softened, and the tears trickled down their weather-beaten faces.

Kosciusko died at Soleuse, on the 15th of October, 1817. A magnificent funeral service was performed in honor of the hero at the church of St. Roche, in Paris. Poland laments her pa-

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triot, America her illustrious defender; France and Switzerland the man of beneficence and virtue, and Russia admires th[e] enemy unshaken in his principles, and undaunted in adversity.

Supr[e]macy of Mind.

Marius, the man who rose a caliga to be seven times consul, was in a dungeon; and a slave was sent in with a commission to put him to death. These were the persons—the two extremities of exalted and forlorn humanity, its vanward and his rearward man, a Roman consul and an abject slave. But their natural relations to each other were by the caprice of fortune monstrously inverted! the consul was in chains; the slave was for a moment the arbiter of his

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fate. By what spells, what magic, did Marius reinstate himself in his natural prerogatives? By what marvels, drawn from heaven or from earth, did he, in the twinkling of an eye, again invest himself with the purple, and place between himself and his assassin a host of shadowy hectors? By the mere blank supremacy of great minds over weak ones. He fascinated the slave as a rattlesnake does a bird. Standing like Tenereffe, he smote him with his eye, and said, dost thou, fellow presume to kill Caius Marius? Whereat the reptile, quaking under the voice, nor daring to affront the consulsar [sic] eye, sank gently to the ground—turned round upon his hands and feet—and, crawling out of the prison like any other vermin, left Caius Marius standing in solitude as steadfast and immovable as the Capital.

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Tyrants the enemies of Knowledge.

Sir William Berkley, who was governor of Virginia thirty eight years, in answer to the enquiries of the lords of the committee for the colonies in 1617, [sic] sixty four years after the settlement of the province, says, ‘I thank God we have no free schools, nor printing; and I hope we shall not have this hundred years;—for learning has brought disobedience, and heresy into the world; and printing has divulged them, and libels against the government. God keep us from both.’ Lord Effingham, who was appointed governor in 1683, was ordered expressly, to allow no person whatever to use a printing press, on any occasion, and though no act of the legislature can be found prohibiting the press in Virginia, such was the influence of the governors

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as to be sufficient without it; for until 1766, there was but one printing office in the colony and that was supposed to be entirely under the control of the governor.

Decision of Character.

Every method had been tried to induce Mr. Adams to abandon the cause of his country, which he had supported with so much zeal, courage, and ability. Threats and caresses had proved equally unavailing. Prior to this time there is no certain proof that any direct attempt was made upon his virtue and integrity, although a report had been publicly and freely circulated, that it had been unsuccessfully tried by governor Bernerd. Hutchinson knew him too well to make the attempt. But governor Gage was empowered

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to make the experiment. He sent to him a confidential and verbal message by colonal [sic] fenten, who waited upon Mr. Adams, and, after the customary salutations, he stated the object of his visit. He said that an adjustment of the disputes which existed between England and the colonies, and a reconciliation, was very desirable as well as important to the interests of both. That he was authorized from governor Gage to assure him, that he had been empowered to confer upon him such benefits as would be satisfactory, upon the condit[i]on, that he would engage to cease in his opposition to the measures of government. He also observed, that it was the advice of governor Gage, to him, not to incur the further displeasure of his majesty; that his conduct had been such as made him liable to the penalties of an act of Henry 8th, by which persons could be sent to

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England for trial of treason; or misprision of treason, at the discretion of a governor of a province; but by changing his political course, he would not only receive great personal advantage, but would thereby make his p[e]ace with the king. Mr. Adams listened with apparent interest to this recital. He asked colonel Fenten if he would truly deliver his reply as it should be given. After some hesitation he assented. Mr[.] Adams required his word of honor, which he pledged.

Then rising from his chair and assuming a determined manner he replied, I trust I have long since made my peace with the King of kings. No personal consideration shall induce me to abandon the cause of my country. Tell governer [sic] Gage, it is the advice of Samuel Adams to him, no longer to insult the feelings of an exasperated people.

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