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1.
‘ .
I Fttom THE Lonnoit bIl7)ItNIN_G\Cl_iRO)!!CI_.'§I\
_ , TU _
Proud Queen of the Ocean 3 ,j,e;1,,,,d ofthe-'Free_,!
4 Once ‘hope of the nation! What trance is on thee‘?
VVlty so still and soyoicclcss upon‘-thy.,blU3 ‘Fave’
.,Whi1e the G_t‘c.ck.blet:da again o’er his foref-at_her’§
grave? ' ‘
Rcmember the land ofthepatriot and sage,
"The" lone light of mind in .1 barbarous ago‘ i
The ark ofbrtgzht freedom thatjsaved her forman,
V\"hen Slave-ry’s deluge the earth 0V¢!‘|‘3“ ‘ I
The parent of heroes-—the bravest and best
That e’er smote the plumage fromtyrauny’sct'e5ts
And left the examples which make us‘ believe
Vs hat miracles virtue can make us achieve :
The parent of allthat to mind can belong-—
'l‘he,oravor’s power-—thc enchantment of song---
The trcasurcs of ‘Scicnce—-Philosopl1}"5 Pl*”""‘
And. History tcttching the g..andeur' of n)’c‘-0-
Such,Grecce,were thy gloties,w"ncn grand 8: alone
Thou sut’5t in thy beauty on l.iberty’s thl‘Ul1C 3
And thy brows were,adorn’d with the ch-aplets
’ most rare, '
Of the -beautiful arts which bloom’d lovely there.
And these do we 0wt:1llt_'§'--alltl now that thy name
Again soa,rs.to glory o'er ages ofshame ' .
Shall: we leave theeunaidcd to fight on that shore
‘Which freedom has written with names wettdore?
Oh, rise 1 and avert from our age the foul stain,
-That Greece fought for Freedom_. and fought on
in vain, ' [best fame!
\Vhile the" nation that boasts of the Christian's
Saw her temples consumed in the Musselman’s
fiatne ! I
Oh I let not this tale. be thro’ time handed down,
It» letters ofsh-ante, and with ltistory’s frown,
That BI‘ll£_alfl look’d coldly ottFrcetlotrt’s dread loss,
V£"hilc her soldiers were Greeks. and her banner
--the Ct‘o.~,s.
g_ If
'1-'ttoM nLAc1twooD’s Maoztzltu-3.
THE FORGERS.
,(CONCLUDED.) 9'
‘The sailor stood silent and frowning. There
Jeemetl neither pitynor cruelty in his face: he
-felt himselfinju:-ed; and looked l‘cs0Ivt:£l to right
himself, happen what would. {I say he has for-
ged my father's Will. As‘ to escaping, let him es-
cape if he can. I do not wish to hang him ; tho’
,”I have seen better men run up to the fore-yard
“arm, before now, for only asking their own. But
no more kneeling, worn-an.—-Hollal uhereisthe
old man gone ?’_ i ’
‘ Vi/'e all looked gbastlily around. and the wretch-
ed wife and mother. sptjinging t_o‘he_t; fset, rushed
‘otfu,gl' the house.’ \Ve'fpll::«}~vE.cl§‘?5n<§ and all. The
di;>o_i' of the stab opkn ;\,a‘ptl the mother and
' sotr’fe.,r'lteri'ng. .lohd Sil‘l‘lt.l£‘"§'\’l'lt‘l‘t{:"I'lt?2ll‘(l. The-mis.
crab old ‘man had slunk out of the room unob-
served, during the passion that had struck all our
souls, and had endeavoured to commit suicide.
His own son cut him down, as he hung suspend-
l;l1'fl'O'ln a ranger In that alyndlill place, and, carry-
ing him in his arms, laid htm down upon the
green bank in front ofthe house.—-There he lay,
with his livid face, and blood-shot protruded eyes.
"till, in_ a few minutes, he raised himself up, and; .
‘fixed them upon his wife, _who,.,. sqggtggccgvggzlng
*;i;fm,,, ,,ng,'i.,,;i.ng,;_..fif+,"i:2rme sittickitig from Ill€"__)'fI.lfC_.
in” which ‘she had fallen down. * Poor peop e" 1’
said the sailor, with a/,:as'ping voice; you have
suffered enough for your crime. Feat‘ nothing;
the worst is now past: and rather would I sail
,tht: seas twenty years longer, than add another
pang to that old man’s heart. Let us be kind to
the old man.’ I
* But It seemed as if a raven had croaked the
direful secret all over the remotes: plact-s among‘
the hills ; for, in an hour. people Came flocking in
from all quart;-rs ; and it was seen, that conceal-
men‘, or ggcupe was no longer possible ; and that
father and son were destined to die together a
felt‘-n’s death ’ - ‘
Here the pastor’s voice ceased ; and I had heard
enmttrlt to understand the long deep sigh that had
_comie moaning from that bowed down figure bo-
side. 111,- s()fita|‘y well. * That was the lost wotk
done, by the fathcr and son, and finished the dar
before the fatal discovery of their guilt. It had
probably been engaged in, at-ra sort of amusement
to bcguile their unhappy minds of ever-anxious
thougihts, or perhaps as "a solitary occupation, at
which they could unburthen their guilt to one a-
,,o',,,,,,. und,-,,tut~bctl. Herc, no doubt in the Li-
lence and solitude, they often felt t'en1o§_se, per-
haps‘ penitence. They chtscllcd out tlre1r_ rlames
' on the slab, as you perceive ; and hither, as duly
as the morning and evening shadows, comes the
ghost whom we beheld, and, after a praye.r for
the souls of them so tenderly beloved in thetr1n-
nocence, and doubtless even more tenderly belov-
ea intheir guilt and in their graves, she Cal‘l'lt:S
to her lonely but the water that helps to preserve
her hopeless life, from the well dug by (lt:a:‘cl‘
hands, now moulderetl away, both flesh and bone,
into the dust.’ _
After a, moment’: silence, the old man continu-
ed._for he saw that I longed to hear thedetails oi
,1,-‘,1 dreadful catastrophe ; and his own soul seem-
ed likewise desirous of renewing his gt‘ief-;_-—‘ The
p,.',,-,,,,,,,»,, w,,,-,_- condemned. Hope there was none.
], ,., as known, from the moment of the veIjtli(_:t——
guilty-—tha\t they would be executed. Petitions
Awcre, indeed, signed by many thousands; but It
was all in vain—and the father and the son had to
prepare themselves for death. H _ _ _,
’ c About ,a werk‘ after condemnation, I vlslled
-them initheir, cell. God forbid, I *'h°,"l‘3 53)’ ‘bill
they were resigned. Human nature could not
resign itself to such a_ doom ; and I found the old
man pacing up and down ‘the stone floor, in ills
clanking chains, with hurried steps, and a coun-
tenance of unspeakable horror‘. The son was ly-
ing on his face upon his bed of straws “id had _"°l
lifted up his head, as the massy bolts VVel'f: with-
drawn. and the door creakcd sullenly un_1t5.hm-.
get,» The father fixed his eyes upon int: 101' 50318
time, as ifl had been _a stranger, tntI'udm,g UPON
his misery; and, as soon as he_kncw. me, shut
wen, ,,.i,}, a.d,,e.p' p;'t'oan, and pointed to his son.
* I havé murd'cr,ed VVilliam——I have._l5'7‘l"$§h‘ ml”
only son to the scaffold, anti I am doomed!0. lie“ 5’
I g,-ntly called on the youth by name, but he was
it‘.scnsib_le—he was lying in a lit. ‘ I fear hewtll
awake out of that lit,’ cried the old man, with a
-less and fwandering eyes, and they looked like
heat of mid-day, Lrcstcd from labour below-the
and nature had become reconciled to the thought
broken voice. A‘ They have come _up_on_ him eve-‘
ry‘day'~sincé;,out' ‘condemnation, and sometimes
during the night. -Itis not ‘fear for himself that
brings them on-—for my boy,‘ though guilty, is :
hours, till at last he seemsto lose all sense, ant’
falls down in strong convulsions, oftcn upon the
stone floor, tillhe is all covered witlrblood.’ ‘The
old man then went up tothis son, knelt down, and
putting aside the thick clustering hairffrom his
forehead, continued kissing him for some minutes,
with deep sbbs, but eyes dry as dust.
‘ But why should I recall to my remembrance,
or describe to you, evetyhour of anguish that I
witnessed in that cell ? For several weeks, it A as
all agonyyttnd despair-—the Bible lay before their
ghastly eye_s—and for them theit was no conso-
brave—bu,t he "continues flocking on my facefor ‘[22
‘ Tl! no. pardon dgopt. dow-n . l'rom—~these
r=,»- --ales; and the-vast multitude were not
tta-.2-¥;tl the troubled feast of death. .Many
stood therE:, wished they had been inithe
" some far-oli' woodvorgleng there was
and fainting, not only among maids, and
wlnxe, /and matrons, who had Come there in the
mystery of their hearts; but men fell down in
their stren,zt_h—for it was an overwhelming thing
to behold a lather and his only son now ltaltered
for a shameful death. ‘ Is my father with me on
not.’ I joined their hands together, ‘and at that
moment the grc_-§tt’_t bell in the Catlin-d:'ai« tolled ;
but] am conviitcerl neither of them heard the
sound. Fora moment there seemed to be no
such thing as sound in the world';—-and then all
lation. -The old man's soul was filled but with
one tbought—that he had deluded his son into sin,
death, and eternal punishment. Henevcr slept;
but visions, terrible as those of sleep, beamed of-
ten to pass before him. till I have seen the grey
hairs bristle horribly over his temples, and big
drops of sweat plash down upon the floor. I some-_
times thought, that they would both die before
the day of execution : but their mortal sorrows,
though they sadly changed both face and frame,
seemed at last to give ti horrible energy to ltfe ;
and cvcry morning that I visited them, they were
stronger, and more broadly awake in llltz‘ chill si-
lence of ll'lL'II' lonesome prison-house. _,
‘ I know not how a deep change was_at last
wrought upon their souls, but two days before that-
of execution, on entering their cell, I found-them.
sitting‘ calm and composed by each other’s side,
with the Bible open before them. Their fact-s,
tliwgh pale and liaggard, had lust that glare of
misery, that so long had shone about their rest-
men recovering from along and painiul sickness.
I-almost thought I saw something like a faint
smile of hope. ‘ God has been merciful unto us,’
said the father, with a calm voice—-‘ I must not
think he has forgiven my sins, but he has enabled
me to look on my. poor son's face-—to kiss him-—
tofuld him in my arms-—-to pray for him—-to fall
asleep with him in my bosom, as I used often to
do in the (lays of his boyhood, when, during the
trees of my own farm. We have found resigna-
tion at last, andare prepared-to die.’ .
6 There were no transports of deluded enthusi-
asm in the souls of these unhappy men. They
had never doubted the truth of revealed religion,
although they had fatally disregarded its precepts;
and now that remorse had given way to penitence,
ofinevitable death, the light that had been dark-
cued, but neverextinguished in their hearts, rose
up anew; and knowing that their_ souls were im-
mortal, they humbly put their f'd.t'lit~' in the mercy
of their Creator and tbeit‘ Redeemiér. -=
c It was during that resigned and serene hour,
that me old man ventured to ask for the mother
of his poor unhappy boy. I told him the truth
calmly, and calmly he heard it all. - On the day of
l,is'cortdetntiatj_on. she had been deprived of her
reasoti}~éii’tti,'-in tIt’e'ltouse of; kind friend, whose
name be blessed. now remained in merciful ignor-
ance of all that had befallen ; believing hei‘s‘é-lf,
indeed, to be a motherless widow, but but: who
had long ago lost her husband, and all her chil-
drgn,_in. th£_orrlip__a;y,-co_urse of ti5.'ti.‘t‘re. thi "
.-setter. his soul sati§fied.~ The son sa éljnoth ‘
ing, but wept long and _‘i't't6tlly. . A y
* The day of execution came at last. The great
city lay still, as on the morning of the Sabbatlt
(lay ; and all the ordinary liusiness of life seemed,
by one consent of the many thousand hearts beat-
ing there, to be suspended. But as the houus ad-
vanced, the frequent tread of feet was heard in
every avenue; the streets began to fill with pale,
anxious, and impatient faces; and many eyes
were turned to the dials on the stecples. watching
the silent progress of the tit-get‘ of time, till it
should reach the point at which the CUl'l'¢lIl'l; was
to be dt-a.'.vn up from bcfote a most 'l‘llOUl‘llfl.ll
tragedy. .
‘ The hour was faintly heard through the thick
prison walls by us, who were to_t_,rether for the last
time in the condemned ce:l. I had udtnittisl',eretl
to them the most awful rite of. our religion, and
lather and son sat together as silent as death. The
door of the dungeon opened, and several poisons
came in. One of them, who had a shrivelled,
loodless face, and small red grey eyes, an old"
man, feeble and tottering, but cruel in his dc-t;rip-i
itude, .laid hold of the son with his palsicd fin;_;<:t.s,
and began to pinion his arms with a cord. No re-
sistance was offered ; but,_ straight and untrt-mb-
ling, stood that tall and beautiful youth. tvltildtlte
fiend bound him for execution. At this mourn-
lul sight, how could I bear to look on his father's
face? Yet thither were mine eyes impelled, by
the agony that allltcted my commiseratiug soul.
During that hcdious gaze, he was insenstble of
the cxccutionet’s approach towards himself; and
all the time that the cords were encircling his
own arms, he felt them not-.-he saw nothing but
his son standing at last before him, ready for the
scaffold. . '
‘ I darkly recollect a long dark vaulted passage,
and the echoing tread of luotsteps,‘till all at once
we stood in a crowded hall, with a thousand eyes
fixed on these two miserable men. How unlike
were they all beside 1 The sat down together
wittlinv-th‘e_ shadow of death. Prayers were said,
and a psalln was sung, in which their voices were
heard to join, with tones that wrung out tears
from the hardest or the most careless heart. .017-
ten had I heard, tlmse voices singing in my own
peaceful church, be-fore evil had disturbed, or
misery broken them ;—-but the last word of the
psalm was sung, and the hour of their departure
was come. ' _ - '
«They stood at last upon the scaffold. T,hat
long street, thatsecnted to stretch av-ay intermi-
nately from the old pl'lS0ll-llouhéx, was paved with
uncovered he-ads ; for the moment tliese ghosts
human nature so terribly tried ; and prayers and
blessings. passionately ejaculated, or ctanvulsively
stjflcd, went hovering over all the multitude, as if
they feared some great calamityto themselvetuancl
felt standing on the first trt:mour ofan earthquake.
* It was a most bea'util'ul sumtner’s'day,on.wbich
they were led out to die; and as the old man rais-
ed his eyes, for the last time, to the sky, the clouds
lay rnutionless on that bluetrans_lucent arch, and.
;,;,3rn‘pet'ance. , - r..-
appcarcd, that mighty crowd felt. reverence for"
at once the multitude heaved like the sea, and ot-
tered a wild, yelling shriek. Their souls were
in etet~nity—-and I fear not to say, not an eternity
of grief.’ "“ _ * *' * *
A —¢¢o-
INTEMPERANCE.
The Boston Recorder, in noticing a sermon
preached before the Zvlassacltusetts Society for
the suppression of intctnperance, obsc’rvt:s :--
‘ Ten thousand lives are yearly lost to the U-
nited States by intemperance !'More titan thir-
ty millions of ‘dollars are annually expended for
this moral poison l All respectable physicians a-
gt-ce that ardent spirits give no nourishment to
the system, but ft_.trm a polluted fountain of mel-
ancholy, diseases and death 3’ They blunt the
moral faculties and intellectual powers. ‘Of 87
p}.-rson's admitted to the insane Hospttal, N.Y0rk,.
last year, the insanity of 27 was caused by intem
per-ance Z’ _ .
The following extract from this sermon ought
to be perused by all who remain inst.-nsible to the
evils produced by ardent spirits.— ~
‘ I knew a father who doted on _his children.
He was regular in his habits, tender, perhaps to
excess, in his affections, provident in regard to his
family,t'espectful in public worship. But inone of
the paroxysms of his dlscac, this once tender fa
ther pursued his son with an uplifted axe in his
hands, and would have put an end to his life-had
he not been forcibly prevented.
‘:During the winter session of the General
court, and just after leaving the chamber of the
Supreme Executive, whele it happened to be my‘
duty to attend, I was called by a ragged, shiver-
mg ho)‘: whose subs and tears almost prevented
‘my underst_andia:~g him, to visit his mother. His
f§“l“7"s lie ‘Old me, had split open her head with a
Slick 01 W000: and she was not expected to live.
Shocked and full of horror, I followed him. on
entering the place, I found the woman in actib
formed of rough boards nailed against the wall, in
the depth’ of poverty and distress. Never before
wasl so struck with the contrast in the condition
of mankind. Scatcely could I realize while st-an
ding in the cold mud of that wretched cabin, that
I was In the same town in which I had been just
°H:1°lall“£’ before the Tltrcne of Grace. The wo-
man could sptak. She told me she had begged
wood to make her and her child contlbt'ta'b,le.Qtliat
her husband insisted “on taking some of it to a
neighboring grocery to buy rum-.-that she could
not consent, and resisted; and that then she re-
ceived the wound in her head from his hand 5 He
died not long after, a rn.iierabl,:_ -'-‘victim of his in-
. - y
_ '2
itntrniscuozvs on nus cross or THE YEAR.
‘ \’Vc spend our years as a tale that is told.’-
How rapid is the progress of time I Year after
year follows each other in quick succession, and
mortals prone to procrastinate their -immortal
concerns. resolve. and re-resolve, and die the
same. Time is like a flowing stream which is
continually glitlittg along, bearing our frail bark.-;,
aud trill soon launch them in the ocean of etetni.
ty. To the inquiry * what is life ?’ we may re-
ply in the words of the apostle, ‘_ It is even a va-
pour that appeareth but a little while and then
vanishcth away.’ How many since the close ol
the last year have passed the bourne '-vhence no
traveller‘ retutnsjl How many in the enjoyment
of life and health have fallen to the dust! Num-
bcrs in the p-ide of :nanhuod,’in the maturity of
life, in the full career of business and hope, have
been eased of all their anxieties, \aad defeated in
all their expectations, and fast bound in the fet-
ter» of death. How many are sad and serious
now, who com_menced the year giddy, thought-
less, presumptuous, and vain? and how many,
who shall commence the coming year with mu-
Sic» Pet-elry and mirth, will fall as others with all
their imperfections on their head ? Clear and
bright may beour prospects at pt-esent—.but some
sudden blast may blow out the lamp of life, and
we be conveyed into other company and’o:h¢_-r
scenes. In every breeze that blows, there has
been it flight of human fates; in every breath wc
lJl"€a1lN=: W6 may drink in the deadly poison ;_ eve-
Iy hour we stand in,i"j‘eopa'z'dy, and verily every
man is, at his best estate," altogetlter vanity. In
every ivalk we take, death treads upon our steps;
he watches us in our retirements, he follows us
in our business, he mingles with the iangels ma,
stand round our beds; in every moment whcn
our hearts are most attached to the world, in that
very moment when we are least apprehensive of
our fate, then the tyrant springs upon hisprey,
rejoicing to add unto his native horrors the ac-‘
cessory terrors of surprise. ‘What then is vour
life? Is it not a fleeting cloud, an evaporating
smoke, ancxplnding meteor, a paimed bubble .7
Break the bubble must ; in its greatest beauty it
will break, and it may break before our peace is
made with God. »
If life then be so transient and so uncertain,
ought we to bc prodigal of time? VVlten you can
arrest the passing moments, then you mayabuse
them; when you can sayyou have finishetl the
work of life, then you may amuse yourselves.
Of our honor, we are jealous, of our wealth we
are parsimonious, ofourlabor we are t't'ttgal ; but
our time we waste upon the fullies,.the pleasures,
and thecares of this life; we give it unto every
one that asks it of us, nor are we sensible of our
extravagance, perhaps, till the world cannot pur-
chace us another hour. Time was given us, that
wemilght buy with it the blessings of eternity;
as the revenue comes in we -expend it on the van-
that gloriousinheritance, we find ourselves poor,
and miserable, and blind,‘ and naked. 0 that we
the sun shone joyously over the magnificent heav-
ens. It seemed a day made for happiness or for
I
:might so number our days and our years, as to
"apply our _ht;arts unto‘-wisdom.‘ I
l
the scafi'ol‘d ?'-—give me his hand, for I see him
itics of this world ; and when we should enter on’
= ‘- tssnnsfrnscnobn’ Anizcnorz. _
* A little boy, belonging-‘to at Sunday school In
-London, having occasion every Sabbath to go thro’
a-certain court, observed a shop always open for
the sale of goods. The little boy, paving been
taught the duty of sanctifying that day, was griev-
_ed at its profanation, and some time considered in
himself whether it was possible for him to do any
thing to present it. At length, be determined
upon lcavinga tract on the Lord’s Day, next
‘week, at the shop as he passed by. He ‘tlitlso.
On the next Sabbath, coming the same way, he
observed that the shop wasxshut up. lleistopped,
and pundcredwhether this could _be the effect of
the tract he had left.‘ He ventured to knock gent-
ly at the door ;"wbcn a woman within, thinking
it was a customer, answered aloud, ‘ You cannot
have any thing :
The little boy still begged for admittance, en-
couraged. by what'hc hadheard. VVhcn ‘he wo.
man l‘ccUllcCtlll§ his voice, opened the door, and
said, ‘ Come in, my dear littlt: fellow: it was you
who left the tract here last buuday, against Sab- I
bath breaking-, and it frighteited me so, that I did
not dare tolt-cep my shop open any longer; and I
am ClClt:l‘flllhc(l never to do so again while I live.’
Let this be an encouragement to the teachers
of Sunday schools in enforcing the observation oi’.
the Lotd’s Day ; and let it he a stimulous to all
seris us people. and _even to children, to distribute
tracts in crcry possible direction.
T
Axtntltn s.t‘G.tct'rv.
VVe do not think the recortls of instinct ever
contained a more extraordinary instance than we
are now about to relate; and for the truth of
vvhich we pledge ourselves. A few days since,
Mr. Joseph Lane, of Ashclwottlr parish, in this‘
county, on his return home, turned his horse into I
the field in which he had been accustomed to
graze. VA few days before this, the horse had
been shod,a~Il fours, but unlucltity had been pinch-
ed in the shoeing cfotts foot. in the morning,
Mr. Lane missed his horse, and caused an active
search to be made in the vicinity, when the fol-
lowing cit-cutnstances transpired :--The animal,
as it may -be supposed, feeling lame, made his
way out of the field by unhungtng the gate with
his mouth,and went straight to the same farriet-’s
shop, a distance of a mile and a half. The [arri-
er had no sooner opened his shed, than the horse,
which had been evidently standing there some
U016: advanced "to the forge and held up his ailing
foot. The farrier instantly began to examine the
hoof, discovtrcd the injuty, took off the slim)‘, and
replaced it more carefully; on which the horse
Immediately turned about, and set off at a merry
pace for his well known pasture. VVhilst Mr.
l.ane’s seugtttts were on [h¢ search, they c1,a,,c¢d
to pass . by the lorgc, and on mentioning their
supposed loss, the farrier replied, ‘Oh, he has
hcgn here and shod, and gone home again ;’
which, on their return, they found to be actually
the case.-- C_'{Ic’Z't'c7I’/_2§I‘m C‘/zrarziclc.
Wtzys. a71___d1Wc'Z'zn§',-—A young girl, in‘ the neigh-
, I
:bot-blood of. (ilasgemlvg -in the prospect of marriage,
being unable. to find money to purchase wedding-
clothts‘. a few days ago, actually submitted to the
operation of having five front teeth (lrawn,‘loz-
winch she rec. ivt.-d five guincas, and purchased’
the necessary articlcs.—- ls‘7_2g1z'.s-lz '/ta/u,-2-,
...._.j$j-———-
[The writer of the ilollowing communication
having intimated that it would be acceptable to
our \Vcstchestc:r patrons, we therefore insert it.
for their perusal antl_gratificatiun.]
~. FOR THE onzz-:.'r"rz£.
It is not a-little amusing for us in Connecticut,
to observe the increasing restlessness that pre-
vails during the sessit-n ot the Lfigislatm-c.am(,~ng
the citizens ofour neitghbor New-York. In look-
ing through the numbers of the Albany Argus,
a stranger would be led to think that legislation .
consisted, in that statc,in carving new Coutzties,
erecting new Court Houses, demolishing Gaols,
and ‘multiplying Cltrl-:’s offices. Our b:ll‘(lct'ing
County, of \Vcstcheste.r, is not without its troub.
has in this respect, and has not been for 21 series-
of years. bhe has two Court I-looses, like the
County of Faitiield, and presents much the sands’
irregularity in shape. .Such _a County clan have
no common centre, and there is no doubt,'_tltat if
the location of the County buildings were remo-
ved. -frofn White Plains and Bedfotd, to any other
position, the discordant voices of twenty-one
towns would continue to be heard by a benevo-
lent legislature, until another removal was made,
or a new County created. The majority of the
people in VVestchester appear now to be well
suited, I mean the great majority of the farmers,
jurors, suitors, and witnesses : not the Lawyers,
not‘ the County Clerks; for these are a small
part of the community, and are always to be seen
foremost in creating new towns, new districts,
new kingdoms.
On the other hand, it is not to be deniedthat a
small County of regular lines, requires a Court
House in a central position.
ciple-.‘ the public would be better accumrnodated
by such a scite. T-gake for instance the County
of Seneca, between the-Lakes. This County is
small, in shape a parallellugram, the land very fer-
tile. In travelling through the western district,
during the last summer, I could not but admire
the magnificence ofthe Court House at VVater-
loo,'the Capital of the County. Perhaps there is
no‘Court House in-the State of New-York which
can be said to excel it in size, beauty, or durabil-
ity. Situated upon the great western turnpike,
equidistant from the extremes of the county, and
receiving no small share of that beauty and clu-
rability, from the bounty of liberal individuals,
public convenience seeins now to be well accom- '
modated,without ever havingaccumulated at heavy
expense to the County. tj '
On the whole, all Counties and all Cour‘; Hou-
sesicatmt.-'t be alike. 'N0t' is it any argtmient for
tleserting a decent building because‘ it is unlike
another, or has a different relative position, ‘with '
respect to the boundary lines of a farm or a Coun-
ty. VVht:t_t we are well oil‘, let us by‘-all means’
remain so-‘temembtriug the apothegm of'Dr.
F lanklin, that two remove: are equal to one fire-
To our brethren of New.York, a new Canal-
tution has guaranteed much l_iberty._ but has done
away speculati.m_ in Lotteries. One species of
adventure among an ingeniotts people is succeed-
ed by another ; and a rafiling for (311015, and Court
Houses, and tlounties. is an adtnirablc substitute
tor whai tho.-.y have lost
We don’: sell on the Sunday.’ _
Asa general prin- .
Norwalk Chronicler