to think of her comments on my pantaloons' some rain, a sudden and extensive vacuum be-
pockets.
ing caused, the quantity of caloric extracted
These things went on for some months; we was so large as to cause the rest of the drops to
were poor to begin with, and grew poorer, or at freeze înto ice-balls as they formed. This prin-
any rate, no richer, fast. Times grew worse ciple, he said, had been strangely overlooked,
and worse; my pockets leaked worse and worse; although, since the days of Sir John Leslie, eve-
even my pocket book was no longer to be trust-ry person was familiar with experiments on a
ed; the rags slipped from it in a manner most
incredible to relate: as the Irish song says,
And such was the fate of poor Paddy O'Moore,
That his purse had the more rents, as he had the fower.'
At length one day my wife came in with a
subscription paper for the Orphan's Asylum. I
looked at it, and sighed, and handed it back to

her.

'Ned Bowen,' said she, has put down $10.' "The more shame for him,' said I, he can't afford it; he can but just scrape along, any how, and in these times it is'nt right for him to do it.' My wife smiled in her sad way, and took the paper back to him that brought it.

The next evening she asked me if I would go with her and sce the Bowens, and as I had no objection, we started.

I knew that Ned Bowen did a small business that would give about $600 a year, and I thought that it would be worth while to see what that sum would do in the way of house keeping. We were admitted by Ned, and welcomed by Ned's wife, a very neat little body, of whom Mrs.

just entering on the stage of active life, let it ever live at the foundation, and be the moving spring of all his efforts, that this situation be must strive to attain. It can be attained by all. Untiring industry, and a virtuous ambition never fail of their reward. They never yet were exerted in vain, and never will be, while hones ty and justice are left in the human heat.

SIGNERS OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.

small scale illustrative of it. He also said that
the interesting mine of Chemnitz, in Hungary,
afforded an experimental exhibition of the for-
mation of hail on a magnificent scale. In that
mine the drainage of water is raised by an en-pendence, it is stated that nine were born in Mas.
gine, in which common air is violently com-
pressed in a large cast-iron vessel. While the
air is in a state of high compression, a workman
desires a visiter to hold his hat before a cock
which he turns; the compressed air, as it rush-
es out over the surface of the water within,brings
out some with it, which is frozen into ice-balls
by the cold generated by the air as it expands;
and these shoot through the hat, to the no small
annoyance of one party, but to the infinite

amusement of the other,

BOTANY.

The study of this beautiful science is particularly adapted to young females, to whom we would recommend it as a source of pleasure and amusement. It will be found less difficult than may at first be apprehended, and the enjoyment experienced in its progress will be such, that difficulties, much greater than those which really present themselves, would be no barrier

Of the 56 signers of the Declaration of Inde. sachusetts; eight in Virginia; five in Maryland; four in Connecticut; four in New Jersey; four in Pennsylvania; four in South Carolina; three in New York; three in Delaware; two in Rhode Island; one in Maine; three in Ireland; two in England; two in Scotland; and one in Wales. Twenty-one were attorneys; ten merchants; four physicians; three farmers; one clergyman; one printer; sixteen were men of fortune.Eight were graduates of Harvard College; four of Yale; three of New Jersey; two of Phila. delphia; two of William and Mary's, three of Cambridge, England; two of Edinburgh; and one of St. Omers. At the time of their deaths five were over ninety years of age; seven between eighty and ninety; eleven between seven. ty and eighty; twelve between sixty and seventy; eleven between fifty and sixty; seven be. tween forty and fifty; one died at the age of twenty-seven, and the age of two uncertain. At the time of signing the declaration the aver. age age of the members was forty-four years. loses its terrors, and becomes familiar, and the ty-five years and ten months. The youngest mem. They lived to the average age of more than six. pleasures which result from the application of ber was Edward Rutledge, of South Carolina, principles, the exercise which the science re-who was in his twenty-seventh year. He lived quires, and the perpetual contemplation of the to the age of fifty-one. The next youngest variegated and splendid colorings of nature, op- member was Thomas Lynch, of the same state, crate as a species of attraction so irresistible, who was also in his twenty-seventh year. that the student can neither resist or control it. was cast away at sea in the fall of 1776. BenNo object can be more delightful than to behold jamin Franklin was the oldest member. a lovely woman indulging a passion for that was in his seventy-first year when he signed the which is in itself so beautiful and innocent, or Declaration. He died in 1790, and survived six. than to see her teen of his younger brethren. Stephen Hop. kins, of Rhode Island, the next oldest member, was born in 1707, and died in 1785. Charles Carroll attained the greatest age, dying in his ninety-sixth year. William Ellery, of Rhode Island, died in his ninety-first year.

Slackwater had told me a great deal, as they had
been schoolmates. All was as nice as wax, and
yet as substantial as iron comfort was written
all over the room. The evening passed, some-
how or other, though we had no refreshment-clature, which appears at first so repulsive, soon
an article which we never have at home, but
always want when elsewhere-and I returned

to our own establishment with mingled pleasure and chagrin.

'What a pity,' said I to my wife, 'that Bowen don't keep within his income.'

'He does,' she replied.

'But how can he on $600,' was my answer; if he gives $10 to this charity, and $5 to that, and lives so snug and comfortable, too?'

'Shall I tell you?' asked Mrs, Slackwater. Certainly, if you can.'

'His wife,' said my wife, 'finds it just as easy to go without $20 or $30 worth of ribands and laces, as to buy them. They have no fruit but what they raise and have given them by country friends, whom they repay by a thousand little acts of kindness. He uses no beer, which is not essential to his health, as it is to yours; and then he buys no cigars, or ice cream, or ap. ples at 100 per cent on market price, or oranges at 12 cents a piece, or candy, or new novels, or rare works, that are still more rarely used; in short, my dear Mr. Slackwater, he has no hole in his pockets!"

It was the first word of suspicion my wife had uttered on the subject; and it cut me to the quick. Cut me! I should rather say it sewed me up, and my pockets too; they have never been in holes since that evening,

FORMATION OF HAIL.

P.

Professor Stevelley, at the fourth meeting of the British Association, read a paper on meteorological phenomena, in which he attempted to account for the formation of hail, by supposing hat it must be formed when, after the fall of

to the attainment of the science. The nomen.

'Looking through nature, up to nature's God.'
What higher source of gratification can there
be than to stroll amidst the groves, or wander
over mountain heights, and enjoy the magnifi-
cent scenery of nature, and inhale the breeze
teeming with fragrance and redolent with sweets,
while you are in pursuit of a richer banquet, a
more delightful spectacle, the fair and exquisite
gifts of Flora-

Each beauteous flower,
Iris all hues, roses and jessamine.'

THE MECHANIC.

If there is any man in society upon whom we look with esteem and admiration, it is the honest and industrious mechanic, who by his own unaided exertion has established for himself a respectable station in society; who, commencing in poverty, by his skill and assiduity, surmounts every obstacle,overcomes every prejudice and succeeds in establishing for himself a repu. tation, whose value is enhanced for those who come after him. Such a man we prize as the noblest work of which human nature is capable, the highest production she can boast. And let it ever be borne in mind by the young mechanic

FLATTERY.

He

He

[American. i

Sensible women have often been the dupes of designing men, in the following way: They have taken an opportunity of praising them to their own confidante, but with a solemn injunc tion to secrecy. The confidante, however, as they know, will infallibly inform her principal, the first moment she sees her; and this is a mode of flattery which always succeeds. Even those females who nauseate flattery in any other shape, will not reject it in this; just as we can bear the light of the sun when reflected by the

moon.

IGNORANCE.

A wise thinker has said that the reason why many people know comparatively nothing is, that they can never bear to be told any thing.

Hard-heartedness and pride are inseparable.

THE CASKET.

EDITED BY E. B. KILLEY AND B. J. LOSSING,
POUGHKEEPSIE, SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1838.

KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD.-The great fault f mankind in making an estimate of worldly happiness, es in their taking too circumscribed views of society. We are too apt to judge of the whole human family -om our own knowledge of those with whose disposions, tastes and habits we are familiar; and just in he ratio that they are honest, frank, knavish or coneited, so judge we of the world, and either place too trongly our affections upon it, and trust men too far r our own safety, or are constantly doling out jereniads, and mistrusting our dearest friends of sinister designs.

It has been well observed, that Chesterfield saw in mankind a picture of his own frivolous heart; and WalDole, when he said that every man had a price for his onesty, judged his fellows by the corrupt standard of he English court in his time. A bachelor of London has made the following statistical estimate concerning hat city, and calls it a triumphant argument in favor of celibacy.

Wives eloped from their husbands, 1362; husbands eloped from their wives, 2361; married pairs in a state of separation, 4120; married pairs in open war under the same roof, 180,020; married pairs in a state of inward hatred, concealed from the world, 163,S02; married pairs in a state of coolness and indifference, 510,182: married pairs reported happy by the world, 1,102; married pairs absolutely and entirely happy, 9."

Allowing this statement to be truc (which we doubt) what does it prove? Why, that the people of London

know far less of the true secret of connubial happiness, than almost every other portion of the human family. Place these same beings, with their tastes, habits and pursuits, in any other situation, we care not what, and every soul of them would wish to elope, separate, make open war, conceal secret hate, and exhibit coolness, from or concerning something. Matrimony is like religion; it is often cast into disrepute by those who abuse it, while, like the latter, if received and cherished with a proper spirit, would people the earth with angels,

and make it

"A paradise below.'

MUSICAL REVIEW.-We have received the first number of a weekly periodical entitled 'The Musical Review, and Record of Musical Science, Literature and Intelligence.' It is conducted by an Association of gentlemen, and published by Frith & Hall New York.

THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE.-During the middle ages a notion extensively prevailed that there existed a process by which gross metals might be transmuted or converted into gold and silver. This notion gave rise to the pretended science of alchymy, and enthusiasts and imposters were found in many places, secretly engaged in occult retreats, in either practising the The Review is neatly printed in octavo form, with a use of the pretended philosopher's stone, or assiduous-cover, and is intended as a vehicle of useful information ly endeavoring to discover this secret principle.

About the commencement of the fourteenth century, a belief in this art was prevalent in every part of Europe, and among the records of Edward III. (1329) of England, is a proclamation for the arrest of two men who made silver; alleging in the proclamation that they would not only be useful to government, but by being allowed to manufacture it on their own account, would depreciate the currency.

There were some who spent their whole lives in
search of the philosopher's stone. It is related of
Penotus, an alchymist of Switzerland, who died in a
hospital at the age of ninety-eight, that he spent his
whole life in the search, and was reduced from affluence
to beggary. He came to his senses before he died,
and declared that if he had a mortal enemy that he
durst not encounter openly, he would advise him, above
all things, to give himself up to the study and practice
of alchymy.'

There are thousands in our country at the present
day who possess the secret principle, and thousands
who are vainly endeavoring to discover it. Every
pound of INDUSTRY and FRUGALITY.
man may possess it if he will. It is the simple com-

in the various departments of music. It will contain Essays on Musical Education, History of Music, Biographical Sketches of eminent composers and perfor mers, Reviews and Critical Notices of new works on Music, Register of musical transactions, Anecdotes et cetera. Price $3 per annum. We should be hap py to receive subscriptions for the work.

Messrs. K. & L.-In compliance with the request of your correspondent, I send you a solution of his enigma in your last. By condensing his analysis, I find that it forms the word ' POUGHKEEPSIE.'

TO CORRESPONDENTS.-The contribution of E. shall appear in our next.

"Stanzas," by "J. ' are respectfully declined. They possess considerable merit, but the author should pay more attention to the rules of poetry. The following verse is good:

"There surely is some guiding power
Which rightly suffers wrong;
Leaves vice to loom a little hour,

But virtue la te and long."

A GOOD RETORT. -Lyne Stephens was wending his JUNIUS. The identity of the author of those admi-way, a short time ago, through some narrow passage, when he met a pret y, modest girl.

rable political papers, 'the letters of Junius,' has been

Horne Tooke has been attributed the paternity, by a
a matter of much investigation and dispute. To John
large portion of the English people, yet the name of the
real author is yet unknown, although 70 years have
auction in London, the auctioneer made a statement
elapsed since the letters appeared. At a recent book
which, if true, casts considerable light upon the subject.
Francis. Many copies of Junius were produced, hav-
The sale was that of the library of the late Sir Philip ||
ing MSS. corrections of the text in the hand-writing of

Sir Philip. A quotation from Blackstone in Junius is
marked in a copy of Blackstone, which belonged to
Sir Philip. According to some autograph letters, it
appears that he was absent from London for some time,
that he advised Mr. Woodfall, who published the
letters of Junius, of his absence, and, in comparing
dates, it appears that no letters were received from
Junius bearing dates corresponding with the absence of
Sir Philip. These several facts combined render it
quite probable that Sir Philip Francis is the author of
the 'letters of Junius.'

SONGS OF BIRDS.-In our last we gave the written
song of the nightingale, as arranged by a celebrated
German composer.
A poetic correspondent of the
New-England Farmer gives the following lively version
of the song of the thrush :

'Cheerily O, cheerily O,-tweedle, tweedle, tweedle;
Pretty Prudy, pretty Prudy, pretty Prudy;
See, see, see! little Jo, little Jo,

PRONUNCIATION.-Doct. Johnson justly observes that there is no definite standard for the pronunciation of words in the English language." This remark of the learned lexicographer is strictly true, and custom alone fixes the standard. Take for example the word pharmacy, analyze it, and see how well we may judge who pronounce it rightly! The letters ph may be pronounced separately or together: together they have the sound of vas in Stephen, or off as in sphere; separated from the h, p has two sounds as in play, cupboard-thus we have pharmacy, varmacy, parmacy, barmacy, four varieties. Next a has eight sounds, as in name, hall, hat what, said, recital, tillage, father, quay, and each of the four sounds takes eight new varieties: the first, phaer-macy, phowr-macy, phor-macy, phermacy, phur-macy, phir-macy, pheer-macy; the second, vaer-macy, vaur-macy, &c., eight varieties, and in like manner the third and fourth, making thirty-two different ways of pronouncing the first three letters. Next, r has two sounds as in rope, for, and each of those aforeA friend handed us the following copy of a manusaid words admit of two variations, which make sixty- script note, found in a medical work nearly one hundred four. Then m has two sounds, as in man, accompt, and years old. It is in the hand writing of a medical practi each of the aforesaid 64 words admits of two variationer, who was owner of the book at the time of its pultions more, making 128. stated, and each of the aforesaid 128 sounds admits of 8 more variations, making 1024. Chas 5 sounds, as in suffice, cider, ocean, cal, such; and each of the aforesaid 1024 words admits of 5 variations more, which makes 5120. Finally y has three sounds, as in your, yrant, liberty, and each of the 5120 words admits of 3 more variations, making 15360. When, therefore, each of the letters which compose this word and all their several sounds have been learned, and the pupil at tempts to apply his knowledge to the pronunciation of the word, he is liable to pronounce it wrong in 15,360 ways!

A has 8 sounds as before

Kissing Judy, kissing Judy, kissing Judy!'

lication. We give it verbatim et literatim.

1

'It is supposed from observation that more than o ne third of Mankind die under ye age of two years-t nat an eighth part of mankind die of ye Small Pox & hat one in 5 or 6 of those who have ye disorder in a ratural way dies-In Russia Baron Dimsdale observ s he disorder in a natural way one half die including y e rich has been informed credibly that of those who ha ve ye & poor

In 1721 George 2d consented that 7 condemned criminals shd be inoculated, & success attending ye experiment some of our nobility were inoculated & in 1722 three years after 447 people were inoculated in England some of ye Royal family followed this example.-In of whom only 9 died.

'Pray, my dear,' said he, "what do you call this passage?'

'Balaam's pass ige,' replied the girl.

'Ah, then,' con ainued the puppy, I am like Balaam -stopped by an angel.'

And I,' rejoi aed the girl, as she pushed past him, am like the an gel-stopped by an ass!'

GRACE AFTER MEAT.-One day at the table of the late Dr. Pearse, (Dean of Ely,) just as the cloth was be that of an extraordinary mortality among the lawbeing remove d, the subject of discourse happened to

yers. We have lost,' said a gentleman, not less than six eminent barristers in as many months.' The Dean, who was quite deaf, rose as his friend finished his remarks, an i gave the company grace: For this and every oth ar mercy, the Lord's name be praised!' The effect was irresistible.

Imagine I was a tall chap,' said Bevis. 'Don't try,' responded Sinkum, 'you'll hurt yourself, for its a great stretch of the imagination for a little feller to do that,'

DIED,

In this village, on the 29th ult., SARAH CURVIN, formerly of New llaven, Conn., aged 55 years.

In this village, on Sunday afternoon last, JOSEPHINE, infant child of George and Mary Ann Pudney, aged 8 months and 19 days.

In Dover,in this county, on the 6th inst., ARABELLA, ford, Conn., aged 49 years. wife of Elibu Hoag, esq., and formerly of New Mil

In Amenia, on the 26th ult., Miss ANN PUGSLEY, aged about 36 years.

On the 11th inst, at Northeast, Dutchess county, Mrs. AMEY, wife of the late Nathan Conklin, in the 79th year of her age. She died happy, and to the last mo ment manifested the fullest confidence in the merits of

the Redeemer. She united with the church at Smithfield, (Amenia) in its formation, and as for the space mit. She has left a large circle of friends to mourn her of more than fifty years, been a constant attendant on

the incans of grace there, when her health would per

POUGHKIIPSIH CASKET:

A SEMI-MONTHLY LITERARY JOURNAL.

VOL. II.]

DEVOTED EXCLUSIVELY TO THE DIFFERENT BRANCHES OF POLITE LITERATURE. ›

THREE SCORE AND TEN.

A SEPTUAGENARIAN'S STORY.
My way of life

Is fallen into the sear-the yellow leaf.

POUGHKEEPSIE, JUNE 2, 1838.

come.

As I advanced into manhood, I began to discover this secret. The mists of enchantment with which I had been surrounded, gradually dispersed, and developed to me the world in the rugged garb of truth.

it was to mix with his kind.' I knew not this at the moment, and could not understand the arguments which were used to win me from Shakspeare. my mountain solitudes. I thought it sufficient Sweet and joyous days of childhood! how for me to know, when I breathed the pure mornbrightly ye beam upon my soul! how pleasanting air on the flowery hill-top, that I drank in it is, in the far-gone paths of life, to look back happiness with every inspiration, and my unsothrough the long vista which we have trodden, phisticated heart little dreamed of the influence and see the gay and beautiful sun-light, break-it would have upon the days that were yet to ing upon the first innocent pleasures of buoyant boyhood. Days of the heart's best feelings! when all the world, in its natural and moral relations, seemed the pure and holy sanctuary of happiness, because we beheld it only as it appeared, and being free from suspicion, knew not the error and deformity with which it was surrounded-days of ardent enjoyments and warm emotions! from the wintry region of Three Score and Ten, I turn again to you with a calm yet saddened feeling; for although I behold in || the far retrospect, the fair sun glancing over your green fields and flowery meadows, there are barren and miry ways in the onward road of life, over which I see the dark clouds and misty haze settling in dim confusion. Yet, dreams of my boyhood! ye are welcome still; I look on you as on pleasant pictures, which, like the beautiful frescos of Herculaneum, the hand of time has only mellowed, but not defaced!

[NO. 4.

yet graceful curls, Blame me not that I am lavish in praise when I recur to the infancy of my sweet child, for she was the best solace I had, when the world had been rendered dark to me by sorrow.

She grew up in beauty, and, with the steady grace of approaching womanhood, was even thus at the moment of which I speak. With how much love and pride did my heart beat, when I looked upon her! She had been the fond com panion of all my gay and my solitary hours since her blessed mother's departure, and I could not behold the frequent admiration which she attracted, without a slight feeling of jealousy, mingled with my paternal pleasure. I feared How unwelcome such a development was to lest she should be won away from the happy rest my warm imagination, I need not say. I found where I had so long nurtured her, and merge the myself obliged to school my heart and my feel- || affection of a daughter in the more impetuous ings to a new discipline, to forget my youthful feelings of love. Young as she was, and too ecstacies as a rover of the hills, and to turn my young I thought for, the boisterous ocean of the attention, however unwillingly, to the less exci- world, I perceived I had some cause for the fears ting and more homely realities of life. All this I had fostered. There was one who had looked I found myself obliged to do, and all this I did; on her with an eye which too plainly spoke the but the influence of early impressions on my life || language of his heart. He was a youth whom and character I have never been able entirely I respected, and indeed loved, but he was as yet little more than a boy, an ardent boy, who had It is not my intention to enter into a detailed given his whole soul up to affection, and, thought. history of the events that followed my wild boy-less of the future, knew nothing of the gall and hood; my object is merely to give a few passages wormwood that are mingled in the draught of that occurred at a later period, in a life much life. I discouraged their intercourse, and both chequered with vicissitudes, and marked by al- | parties, aware of my objections, evaded observamost every change of good and evil fortune. If I can excite any interest in the circumstances I am about to relate, it is as much as I can hope for at Three Score and Ten!

to overcome.

About the age of forty, I found myself the in-
habitant of a pretty little cottage on the bank
of the Codorus. I could not overcome my love ||
for the country, and had therefore, many years
before, planted myself on this spot, where, with
the beauties of nature around me, I contented
myself with the cultivation of a few acres, which,
to my unambitious views, were sufficient for the
purposes of an honest and respectable living,
I had married at twenty-five; the dreams of love
and the sweet realities of conjugal felicity had
been mine, and with the ardent temperament I

tion. Young love will find out a way to achieve its purposes, and the more they are opposed, the, more will it endeavor to accomplish them. It was thus that my very care to prevent them, only hastened the consequences I had apprehended. They met by stealth in the woods and the ravines, and ere I was aware, their solemn vows were plighted before the attesting face of Heaven. I knew not even this until it was too late, and the first intimation I had of the event, was in the palpable fact, that my daughter was a fugitive from her father's house.

My distress was extravagant. With that want of command which the habits of my early life had occasioned, I gave myself up to every feel. ing of regret and desperation. I alternately re

Deem not this apostrophe over-colored; the days of unhappiness which followed, have always thrown my infancy into an agreeable contrast, and made it appear brighter to me than it might have done to an uninterested spectator. Be this as it may, it certainly was a scason of enjoyment. As far as circumstances were concerned, I had every chance of happiness. I was a wild, romantic boy, and enthusiastic in my love of nature and her works. To be rambling among the picturesque scenery of my native Susquehanna, was my delight. The mountain and the rock, the waterfall and the song of the forest bird, were the objects of my daily and devoted attachment. I made them my dearest, I had almost said, my only friends, and, while exploring the first or listening to the latter, I found myself forgetful alike of the past and the future, in the intense interest they ex-possessed, I enjoyed them to their full extent.proached myself and her, charged her with the cited. The river, too, was another frequent scene of my exercises, and I took no little pride in showing the dexterity with which I could steer my canoe among the rapids of the noble stream. They thought me, and called me an idle boy, and, in respect to any regular course of duties, I was such; for although my life was one of almost constant activity, it was nevertheless an erratic and uncertain one, and tended very much to unfit me for my future intercourse with the world. It wrought in me an over-strained sensibility, a love for things which the world loved not, a fondness for pursuits which were incompatible with the interests of one, whose destiny

But, like most of the glimpses of happiness we
obtain in this world, they were too bright and
beautiful to endure, and in three short and rapid
years I was separated forever from the gentle
being I had most loved and cherished. I had
one child-but one, a fair girl with just such a
face as a painter would have made his study; a
dark, lustrous eye, beaming with spirit, features
of the most regular and perfect symmetry, a
mouth so full of love that you seemed complete-
ly tempted to a kiss, cheeks where the white and
red were most lusciously blended, and forehead
of the truest proportion, over which and her fair
shoulders the luxuriant dark hair fell in careless

basest ingratitude, and, much as I still loved her, determined never to see her more. Circumstances soon conspired in some degree to assist my resolution.

I have said that my cottage was on the bank of the Codorus. It was a beautiful spot, abound. ing in the wild and romantic features of nature, and yet in as high a state of cultivation as the most experienced husbandman could desire. The river rolled its murmuring waters along almost at my very door, and, although a very brook in comparison with some of the magnificent streams of our country, was amply sufficient for the va ous purposes of housewifery and tillage. Ar

lawn and garden extended in the rear of my dom-sed on earth, hearth and home, swept from be.
icil, and the woodland which stretched along the fore me; and when the darkness of night had
boundary of my little tract protected it from the settled on the landscape, I found myself reduced
influence of the bleak northern winds.
to the condition of a houseless, unsheltered wan-
derer.

The Codorus, like many other streams of the
same character, is, at certain times of the year, I must not render a simple story tedious.
peculiarly liable to audden freshets, which trans- || What could I do? my ties to house and coun.
form the gentle and lamb-like rivulet into a furi- try were gone, and I abandoned both. I repres-
ous and raging flood, carrying death and desola- |
lation in its progress. It was in the spring, im-
mediately after the unhappy flight of my daugh-
ter, that an event of this kind occurred, which
not only gave a fearful exhibition of the power
of the elements, but also had an important bear-
ing on the future course of my life.

I hastened to the scenes of my boyhood, to pour out among them an old man's bitter, heart-broken tears. I saw the mountains rise in their glory, just as they did when I was like a bird among them, and the mighty waters of the noble Susquehanna still rushed along their accustomed channel, undiminished and untirrng, as if they were destined to flow forever. All nature was still in its pristine vigor and beauty, man only had faded from his original freshness. I remembered, with a sad pleasure, the happy times when I had sported among those hills, and I wished I were again a boy, that I might enjoy the pure feelings, the unalloyed gaiety, the sweet repose, which, when once relinquished with the light-hearted laugh of childhood, are never afterwards recovered.

sed my natural pride, and by humble occupations in a foreign soil, I sought to retrieve my ruined || fortunes. In this I was successful; and after twenty years of voluntary exile, I embarked once more for my native land. Many as had been my misfortunes in the place of my birth, through all my tedious wanderings it had been the pole About the sunset of one of the mildest days of star of my hopes, and I still cherished the fond the season, a horseman was seen spurring his idea, that if ever fortune deigned to smile on me foaming steed furiously down the course of the again, I should return to the scenes of my child. river, stopping a moment at each cottage as he hood, and pass among them the quiet evening passed, and then flying on with the rapidity of of my days. The fond wish, the treasured hope, one who bears a message of immediate and im- seemed now about to be realized. But that un. portant interest. His was of no little concern. certainty which marks all human enjoyments, He had mounted in hot haste, and outridden the was illustrated in this anticipation. After nearly flood, to give warning of its approach, and to completing a highly prosperous and agreeable admonish those who inhabited that district, to voyage, when about to hail my country with reflee from its threatened irruption. Like the fie.newed means of comfort and repose, a disasry cross among the hills of Scotland, the infor. trous shipwreck despoiled me of all my hardmation spread from house to house, and from vil-earned acquisitions, and made me again a stran. lage to village, with incredible celerity. Every ger and a wanderer in my native land, a debtor one started up in alarm, but none believed the to charity even for the garments which I wore. story of danger; and though all looked wildly on the speaker at the first admonition, yet each, as he glanced at the river still flowing by in all gentleness, threw off his momentary apprehension, and relapsed into his accustomed security. On this occasion I partook of the common feel. ing, and the kind messenger who had taken on himself the wearisome duty of announcing the coming deluge, was looked upon as one laboring under the excitement of an over-heated imagination. For myself, I even laughed at the idea, and with the calmness of one who has been threatened with an impossibility, sat down to some domestic occupation, with which I was ac. customed to while away my solitary evenings. The night had now nearly set in, and the last rays of twilight were hovering in mist upon the earth. A soft distant sound, like the rushing of It was in the heat of a warm summer's day the wind through the forest, attracted my atten- that I stopped at the door of a cottage to solicit tion. I threw down my work, and listened with a draught of milk. It was a pleasant retreat, eager interest. The noise grew gradually loud. beautifully shaded with vines and noble forest er, until at length it became like the roar of a trees, and gave evidence of much neatness and far-off water-fall. The thought struck me on comfort within. Three lovely children were the instant, that this was the approaching flood; playing about the door, and called the attention I was dumb through the effect of terror and a- of their mother as I approached. She met me mazement; I rushed from the house, and mount with a smile of benevolence, and after listening ing an elevated spot at some little distance, by to my simple request, gave me a chair in the the dim day-light that remained, I watched the cottage, and placed before me the best fare of fearful advent. It came; the quiet, rippling her dairy. I was pleased with the whole apbrook, charged into a roaring torrent, rushed pearance of the family, not only on account of with wild and headlong fury over every object their good looks, but that neatness and respect that opposed its passage, 'as if to sweep down all ability which can only arise from good manage. things in its track.' Strong and lofty trees, that ment on the part of the mother. I know not had stood many summers in their glory, bowed how it was, but I felt more than usually intebefore its superior might. Cattle and cottages, rested in the group before me. While I was and, in many instances, even their inhabitants, enjoying my simple meal, rendered doubly welwere borne away together, and blended into one come by a long and wearisome journey, the indiscriminate ruin. The mountain torrents had mother, addressing her eldest son, a fine, generlet loose their fountains on the hills, and the spiritous looking boy of fourteen or fifteen, by the of desolation was riding abroad on the waves. I name of Hazlewood, desired him to carry a mes. stood unmoved, and saw the deluge come down sage to his father in the field. I looked up and in its terrible grandeur; I saw all that I posses- started; it was my own name! A thousand

thoughts rushed through my mind at once. Could it be possible? And yet I almost feared to indulge the hope. Time had so changed her appearance, I could not say whether it was my Mary that stood before me or not. I asked a few hurried questions. Every succeeding an swer tended more and more to satisfy my agita ted feelings, until at last I was sure, perfectly sure, that I held my own beautiful, beloved child once more to her father's heart. At length her husband entered, and welcomed me with the affection of a worthy and dutiful son. All that had passed was forgotten and forgiven in the joy of this happy meeting; the rash and wilful lovers, now more sober and thoughtful amid the cares of a rising family, were willing to acknowledge their youthful indiscretion, while I in turn was well satisfied to consider my angry resolution, more honored in the breach than in the observance.' Ten years have now passed away since I first sat down un. der my daughter's roof, and, always excepting the merry days of boyhood, they are probably the happiest that have fallen to my lot, inasmuch as they have been made up of peace and quiet, ingredients which have more to do than many seem to be aware of, with the sum total of hu man happiness.

Souvenir.

CHARLES WEST THOMSON.

THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. A valuable work has just made its appearance, entitled 'Journal of an Exploring Tour beyond the Rocky Mountains, under the Directions of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, performed in the years 1835-6-7, &c. By Rev. Samuel Parker.' We make one or two extracts concerning the scenery,

The passage through these mountains is in a valley, so gradual in the ascent and descent, that I should not have known we were passing them, had it not been that as we advanced, the atmosphere gradually became cooler, and at length we found the perpetual snows upon our right hand and upon our left, elevated many thousand feet above us--in some places ten thousand. The highest part of these mountains are found by measurement to be eighteen thousand feet above the level of the sea. This valley was not discovered till some years since. Mr. Hunt and his party, more than twenty years ago, went near it, but did not find it, though in search of some favorable passage. It varies in width from five to twenty miles; and following its course, the distance through the mountains is about eighty miles, or four days' journey. Though there are some elevations and depressions in this valley, yet, comparatively speaking, it is level. There would be no difficulty in the way of constructing a rail road from the Atlantic to the Pacific ocean; and probably the time may not be very far distant, when trips will be made across the continent, as they have been made to the Niagara falls, to see nature's wonders.

[A few miles west of Jackson's Hole, the caravan encamped three days, to give their animals opportunity

to recruit.]

While we continued here, I took an Indian

and went up to the top of a very high mountain, to take a view of the scenery around. The prospect was as extensive as the eye could reach, diversified with mountains, hills, and plains. Most of the mountains were covered with woods, but the hills and plains were covered with grass,