P Is» 9 " 'a_ppea~red such in the eyes of all. say Farew , . ~ -Ne’er feltthat so 1 l _ tf0‘V'3l3T98'd5 ‘‘ VVhich cannot‘ speak the bosom’s‘sivell ?. Is there a heart‘e’er bid adieu .- To pleasures that from friendship flow, Nor sigh’d when-m_em’ry bro’t to view Those pleasures with its magic glow ,? In me such coldness hath no part ; Past scenes my fancy ‘wanders o’er, And pensive sadness fills my beam‘ To think that they are now no more. Those scenes shall fancy bring to mind As though they were and had not been, Those friends, within my heart ens'nriu’d, Shall still be lov’d, though still unseen-. E: ‘ riitoiu LA3 cases’ JOURNAL. V _ MEMOIRS OF BONAPARTE. 'When about eighteen or twenty years of age» the emperor was distinguished as a young iiiau of extensive information, possessing a reflect- ive turn oftniiid and strong reasoning powers. He had read an immense deal,.and had pro- foundly mcditated on the fund of knowledge thus acquired, much of which, he used_ to say, he had probably since lost. His spirrkliiig and ready wit, and energetic language, distinguish- ed him wherever he went: he was a favorite with every one, particularly with the fair sex, to whom he recommended himself by the el- egance and novelty of his ideas, and the bold- ness of hisat'guments. _ As for the men, they were often afraid to engage with him in those i ._which. be was led, by a natur- al confidence‘iii'fri¥i743iw5n'rp9leVs=!'§:i _« .. .. .At an early age he gained anony-n‘iousl»y'a‘. prize at the Academy of Lyons, on the fol‘! lowing question, proposed by B:ilyl)al : ' ‘ What are ‘ -the, principles and ’f.71Sl‘ll1Ll'f01'lS calculated to advance mankinil to the highest possible de- gree of lmppiqicss f?’ The anouynious me- . morial excited great attention: it was per- fectly in unison with the ideas of the_age. ._ It began by inquiring in what liappiness.c0n§lSt- ed; and the answer was, in the perfe_ct_enjoy- mentoflife in the manner most conforiuable with our moral and physical organization.- After he became Emperor, Nap0l€.0" ‘V35 0'19 day conversing on this subject with M. de Tal- leyrand; the latter, like a skilful courtier, shortly after presented to him the famous nie- morial, which he had procured from the ar-‘ chives ofthe Academy of Lyons. The Eni- peror took it, and, alter reading a few'pages, threw into the fire this first production of his youth, saying, ‘ One can never observe every thing.-’ M. de Talleyrand had not had an op- portunity oftranscribing it. _ It is generally believed that Napolo-on, in his boyhood, was tacitiirii, sullen and niorose; on the contrary, he was ofa very lively trim. He never appeared more delighted than when relating to us the various tricks he was accus- tomed to play when at the School of Artillery. In describing thejoyous moments of his early youth, he seeius to forget the misfortunes which hold him in capt-ivity. ‘ There was an old corninandant, upwards of 80 years of age, for whom the cadets enter- tained a veiy high respect, notwithstanding the many jokes they played upon him, One day, while he was examining them in their cannon exercise,and watching every discharge with his eye-glass, he asserted that they were far from hitting the mark, and asked those near him ifthey had seen the ball strike. No- ,body,had observed the youths slipping aside the ball every time they loaded. The old gen- eral was rather sharp ; after 5 or 6 discharg- es, he took it in his head to count the balls.- The trickvwas discovered. The general tho’t it a very good one ; btit ordered all who had participated in it to be put under arrest. ‘ On another occasion,’ Napoleon used to relate," one of my comrades who lodged above me unluckily took a fancy to learn to play the horn, and made such a hideous noise as coin- pletely disturbed the studies ofthose who were within hearing. We met each other one day on the stairs; ‘ Are you not tired ofpractising the horn ?’ said I. ‘ Not at all,’ he replied.-— ‘At any rate, you tire other people.’ ‘I am sorry for it.’ It would be better ifyou went to practice elsewhere.’ ‘I am master of my _ own apartment.’ ‘ Perhaps you may be tziught to entertain a doubt on that point.’ ‘I scarce think any one will be bold enough to attempt to teach me that.’ A challenge ensued ; but before the antagonists met, the affair was sub- mitted to the consideration ofa council ofthe cadets, and it was determined that the one should practice the born at a greater distance, and that the other should he tiiore accommo- dating. In the campaign of 1814, the Empe- ror again met liis horn player in the neigh- borhood of Soissons or Laon : he was residiiig‘ on his estate, and gave some important infor- mation respecting the enemy’s position. The Emperor made him one of hisaides-de-camp:_ this officer was Colonel Hussy. When attached to his artillery-i'egim.ent, Napoleon siezed every opportunity of ming- ling in company, where he invariably made an agreeable impression. .VVomen at that time attached a high value to talent in the other sex ; it was a quality which never failed to win their good graces. Napoleon at this pe- riod performed what he termed his Se_miiuen- tal Journey from Valence to Mont-Ceuis in Burgundy, and he intended to write an ac- count ofit after the manner of Sterne. The faithful Desmazzis, was ofthe party: he was constantly with him, anrl his narrative ofNa- poleon’s private life, if combined with the de- tails of his public career, would form a perfect history of the Emperor. It would then be seen that, however extraordinary his life might be with respect to its incidents‘, yet nothing could be more simple or natural thauits co_tirse. Circumstances and reflection have consid- erably modified his character. Even his style of expression, now so concise and laconic, was in his youth diffuse and emphatic. At the time of the Legislative Assembly, Napoleon assumed a_ serious and severe deuieanor, and became less communicative than before. The army of Italy also marked-anotlier epoch in his character. His extreme youth when he went to take the command of the army, ren- dered it necessary that he should evince great reserve and the utmost strictness of"-inorals.-——" ‘This was indispensibly necessary,’ said he, ‘ to enable me to command men so much above me in point--of age. I pursued a line of'con- duct truly -‘frreproacliable and exemplary. I priivéii ,myselfa sort of Cato. I mu_st have I wasa plii- Fosoplier and a sage.’ In this character he appeared‘ on the theatre of the world.» ,the Revolution broke out. At that time, it was on tlie_ir‘part,were very much divided in opin- rion. 3Napole'on, who _.was inibuedjwith the no-. tions of the age’, possessing a natural instinct . "for greatact-ions and a passion for-gnational . ,_ _: glory," espoused the ‘ cause. of ‘the[.rev.plution ; , and his example influenced the majority of the reginient. , He was an“'_ard__‘ent patriot under‘ the’ Constituent" Assenili'ly'; butthe Legisla- tive Assembly rnarked anew period in his ideas and opinions. , He was at Parisnon the 921st of'.June’, 17992, and witnessed the insurrection of the people ofthe Faubmirgs, who traversed the garden of the Thuileries, anti forced the palace. There were but 6000 men; a mere disorderly tiiob, whose language and dress proved them to be- long to the very lowest class of society. Napoleon was alsora witness ofthe events of theggoth of August, in which the assailants were neither higher in rank, nor more formi- dable in nuinbi-r. In 1793, Napoleon was in Corsica, where he had a coininatid in the National Guards.‘.He opposed Paoli as soon as he was led to sus- pect that the veteran, to whom he had hither- to been so tiiiiclt attached, entertained the de- sigii of betraying the island to theEnglish.— Therefore it is not true, as has been generally reported, that Napoleon, or some ofhis fami- ly, were at one time in England, proposing to raise a Corsican regiment for the English ser- vice. The English and Paoli subdued the Corsicaii patriots, and burnt Ajaccio. . The house ofthe Bonapartes was destroyed in the general coiiflagration, and the family were 0- bliged to fly to the Continent. They fixed _tb_eir,a_bode at Marseilles, whence Napoleon j1i9’c§fe§]1é'dgi'i),_.?:ifig.'~ .He.arrived just at the iiidment wlieii,-the .fe‘clera'lists ofMarseilles’had surrendered Toulon to'~the. English. THE ‘VOXCE I-‘ROM srr. HELENA.’ This Work (says the N. Y. Evening Post) has btit lately fallen‘, ihtoour hands, but from the iuouieut we found ourselves fairly enga- ged "in its perusal, we felt an insatiable‘ curios-. ity until we had finished it‘; and now recom- mend it to those of our_siibscribers wholiave not yet indulged '3 similar curiosity, We do not know when we ltave found ourselves so completely absorbed, otir feelings so tiiuch a- wakened, 0llf"Syn1p(tll1d_éS'S'O-Entirely engaged, sincethe day ofour childhood, when we read the rovings of romance and thought them re- alities. With the ‘Edinburgh Review, we have, however, no hesitation in saying, ‘ there are internal marks of authenticity which can deceive no one who has at allgiven his atten- tion to the manner of Bonaparte, and the manner of his biographer. For we~‘do no_tbe- lieve that‘ Olilleara could have invented the things that are here set down.’ No less than nine and twenty English Reviewers and pe- riodical publications, all unite in ascribing to the work a similar character of authenticity, and intense interest. For ourselves we must confess that our opinions have undergone an almost entire revolution as to him who forms the subject ofthis book. 'VVe have no diffi- cuhy in declaring that we regard him as a greater man than we did before, and certain- ly as a far better one, as an individual, espe- cially in the several domestic relations ofhus- band, father, and brother. .,It is not without a sensation of sorrow and regret, that we feel ourselves compelled,by a respect for truth and justice, to add, that wherever this book is read and believed, it will, we fear, fix an indelible stain on the honor andmagnanimity of the British nation. -o»QeQ«-' FROM THE LONDON M0)l'I‘HLY Macxziivrz. TO-DAY. ‘ The past is all by death possess’d, And frugal faith that guardsthe rest, By giving, bids us live to-day.’ To-day is like a child’s pocket money,which he never thinks ofkeepingin his pocket. Con- sidering it bestowed upon us for the -sole pur- pose iofbeing expended as fast as possible in dainties and toys, we should reproach our- -selves for meanness of spirit were we to board it up, or appropriate it to any object ofserious utility. It is the only "part of life of which we are sure; yet we tr_eat'it as ifit were the sole portion of existence beyond otir control. We make sage reflections upon the past, and wise resolutions for the future, but no one ev- er forms an important determination for to- «lay-. Whatever is urgent must be reserved for to-morrow : the present hour is a,digres- sioii, an episode that belongs not to the main business of life ; we may cut itout altogether, and the plot will not be less complete. Every sun dial on the church-wall thrusts out his gnonion, as iflie would enforce his dictum at the point of the bayonet, or drive wisdom down otir throats, to inform us that eternity hangs from the present ruomeut; but we re- volt frotn the sclioolirig of this iron ferula.— W ho would be made wise by compulsion, and what ignorance is poltrnon enough to surren- der at discretion ? Moral lessons may be too pertinaciously obtruded ; we may be remind- ed till we forget to listen, or we may retain the words and not the sentiment, learning our task by rote rather than by head or heart. This is the fault of modern. education, which teaches the sound rather than the sense of things. _Cl_iildren taken from the nursery and pinned down to Latinand Greek are instruct- ed to name an object in three or four different languages, not to analyse its nature; a pro- cess wliiclimay often make them learned, but rarely wise; for as knowledge is not confined to names, a greatliiigiiist may be a great fool. It is an equal mistake to give children mental food which they cannot digest, and dangle apliorisms before their eyes from sundials and church sides, which they learn so early to re- peat that they are sure never to feel their in- lliieiice. What he who runs may read, nobo- dy_will stop_ to consider, which is probably the reason.-why this. didactic hand-writing on the wall has ever proved an nnavailiug warning. Besides, there are many of maturer age who above all things dislike an apopthegm, which, preventing the complacent exercise of their own faculties,‘ deprives them of the merit of discovery ; wh_ile there are others so paradox- ically inclined, that they will admit any thing rather than a truism, and can _never be bro’t to see that which is self-evident. Hariteysin morals, they deny matter-of-fact as sturdily as he did physical matter. In spite, however, of its beluga truism, it must be admitted that to-day is a portion of otir existence... Granted, exclaims, the idler, tbut, after all, what. is a single day? A ques- Napoleon was in garrison at Valence when ya point of particular importance to cause the__ -tartillerypfficers to emigrate ;. and the officers, dred and sixty"-five times in a year, when we .commfencfe airieiv score of . similar interrogato- ries,‘ so,’ ?that,~:.:\i}¢. “as well. say at'once- ‘ w1iat:i$3.a_ single‘ 11re}?’§3Sticfirt' :as,t_he"~in.t...erval‘ may be,‘:>a"nd _li‘owever ind,,oléti';tly, we mayjgtisjyg ifrnport,aiii‘t. Perched up’on~;.our,_go0d1Y:‘VeliiCle the Earth_,fw,'e‘ baye s§vi_i__ng ,'tliroii"gh"spacje‘ at a tolerable brisk rate in the perfoijniartce of our annual , rotation ‘around \the.~.sun.;—_so .uiany. milesof life’s journey have at all events bro’-t us so much nearer to its end .; they are struck- off from our account; we shall never travel- over them‘?'again. With every tick of"our watch .in.that-briefspace oftime, some_huii- dredsor thousands have started fl‘Om'tllB great antenatal infinite to light‘ and life; while as -many have _retiirned into the darkness of the invisible world. And we ourselves, though, we sonietiines exclaim like the Emperor Ti- tus, th'at we have lost a day, maybe well as- sured_ that to-day has not lost sight of us. The footsteps of time may not be heard__yvhen he treads upon roses, but hisprogress is not the less certain; ive need not shake his hour-glass’ to make the sands of life flow faster; they keep perpetually diminisliing: night and day, asleep or awake, grain by grain, our existence dribbles away. VVe call those happy moments when time fliesitiost rapidly, forgetting that he is the only winged personage who cannot fly backwards, and that his speed is but liur- rying us to the grave. . To-day has a triple claim to consideration; for, besides its present appeal, it has been the future, and will be the past. He is wise, says an ancient philosopher, who lives to-day; he is wiser still, exclaiius his commentator,who liv- ed yesterday. But what is. the best mode of -life for the attainment of happiness ? This question has puzzled the pliilosophers of all ages.’ Pyrrho, denying the existence of any beatitude, maintained-ythat life and death were alike, and when‘ asked why he did not seek the latter, since the former was so little ‘at- tractive, replied, ‘ Because they are both in- different to me.’ Graasus placed the chief good in riches ; Periarider ofCorinth in hon- or; Socrates iti knowledge; Plato in idea; Orpheus in beauty; Miro the Crotonian in bodily strength; Thales the Milesian in the union of prudence and knowledge; Pittacns in benevolence ; Aristotle in the practice and operation of virtue ; and Epiciirus affirnis that happiness is the cliiefgood, and virtue the’ only happiness. Confirming this last theory by the sanctions ofreligion, we shall probably make the nearest approaches to perfect enjoy- ment which our nature will admit; and it may be laid down as an universal maxim, that no mind -is so constituted as to be capable of unal- lot ed happiness while it can repraacli itself with. any crime towards man, however secret and undiscovered, since it must be always con- scious of having ofended ct superior power, from ichich nothing -is hidden. The. To-day of England, nationally consid- cred, cannot be reckoned happy. It is too bustling, laborious and excessive. In France pleasure is almost the only business ; in Eiig- land business is almost the only pleasure, and this is pushed to an extremity that surrounds it with hazard and anxiety. By devoting all its energies and faculties, physical and intel- lectual, to this one object, for a series ofyears, the nation has attained an eminence so fear- fully beyond its natural claims atid position, that uothiiig but a continuance of convulsive efforts, even in the midst of distress and ex- haustion, can enable it to. uphold the rank it has assumed. Hence every thing is artificial, and in all directions we contemplate tension, excitement, fever. Her navy exceeds that of the collected world—-so does her debt, :1 co- existence that cannot be very durable. Her establishments of all sorts are proportioned to what she owes rather than to what she has- her grandeur can only be equalled by herein- barrassments. In one colony she has sixty millions of subjects, while a great proportion of her native population are paupers, and in her sister island famine has lately stalked hand in hand with rebellion. Nor have her intellectual dcvelupeinents been less extraor- dinary, for she possesses a constellation ofliv- of light with it proftision as unparalleled as tlieirintensity, at this moment irradiate and supply all Europe. Splendid talents have excited public admiration, and procured uti- preccdented remuneration; while fame and riches have reacted upon and stimulated latent genius, untilthe existing literature ofthecoun- try presents a universality of diffusion, an tiri- bonnded copiousuess ofproduction, and 'a mag- nificence of encouragement hitherto totally unknown in the history ofthe world. No so- cial system was ever pushed to such an ener- getic ‘extremity, or afforded so curious and glo- rious a spectacle ; but it has not sufficient re- pose for enjoyment : happiness loves to dwell amid more tranquil eleuients. Its tendency has been painfully illustrated by the recent fate of_sotiie of its leading members. Unable or unwilling to relax in their'career,they have devoted mind and body to this r,estless‘priuci- ple of advanceuient, and have toiled and prbspered, and become enslaved and enrich- ed, aiid achieved misery and fame,-until.na- ture was exhausted in the. strife, and their own hands relieved them from the burden of exis- tence at the precise moment when they had attained every object of ‘their ambition, and appeared to the world to stand upon the sum- tnit_of human happinessL' How long is this fearful tension upon all the nerves and sinews ofthe country to endure? Vi/hat" is to be the result of this overworking ofthe national nia- chine ? A certain Frenchman implored death to spare him till he saw the end of the French Revolution, so curious was he to witness its termination. An Englishman might wellpe- tition to be absolved from the omnivorous scythe, u_ntil be ascertained what would be the finale ofthe present ecstacy ofhis country. Those individuals who seek liappiness will withdraw themselves from this whirl and vor- tex of excitement. They will not aggravate the diseased enlargement of the public heart, and share the painful intensity of its pulsa- tions, by residing in the capital. There is no holy calni,no sabbath of the sottl, no cessation of strife in that vast arena of the passions, where life is a ceaseless struggle of inoney- getting and money-spending ; a contest ofav- arice and lttxury ; a delirium oftheseuses or of the mind. If we desire peace and repose, let us look out upon the variegated earth, ever new and ever beautiful—tipon the azure dome of Heaven hung around with painted clouds-— upon the wide waters, dancing and glittering in the sun, or lyitig in the stillness of their crystal sleep. Let’ us listen to the music of tiohwliicli peevishly repeated tlireelliun‘-I passed it;; Ito’-"day h”asf¢not"‘,been-iiltlogetlier up-. lug liimiuaries,\vho,pouring forth lheirstreamse the sky, when the bouglis are singing to the wind, and the birds are serenading one anoth- er; ‘or__surre'nder ourselves to that more pleas- ipg sens_'a'tion,, whentlie serenity of Nature’s silence-iiiipai_-ts a congenial balm (and, tran- '_q’uility toj7thc»heart.f- I Gazing upon‘ tlieface of ,l‘_la_ture,>_‘,\ve shall_'.,‘_encouiiter no? human:-_ pas- sions, no distrust, trio jealousy,-no intermission ofififrielndship Or~:8;_ftra't:fiOx) ; even’: her frowns arebeautiful, and we need not fear that death .shall-.tea_r her froin.—us. -W'e look upon an im- mortal countenance. A morning thus dedi- cated is an act of the purest piety; it is offering to the Deity a heart made happy by the,con‘— templatioirof'his,works ; ‘anti if I can"prei‘ail upon a single reader to detach himselffor a time from crowds and enthralments, and be- takc himself to the sunny meadows or the green twilight of the woods, ‘I shall felicitate myself on not ,liaving‘,qui_,te-unprofitably em- ployed the morning of—‘ To-day.’ “vi? A _ -»o6o«- . MAHOMET. The following brief notice of this great im- poster is from a scarce book published in Am- -sterdam in 1761, and was intended by the author to exhibit the powerful effects of am- bition upon-the human mind.‘ ‘ Mahomet was theson of a Pagan and a Jewess, b_otli of whom had sprung from the very dregs ofthe people ; their poverty pre- vented them giving him an education. His childhood was consequently neglected, and the only things he in all probability acquired were abstemiousness, and vigor of body.. The daily wants to which the poor are subject, or- dinarily, leave btit little time for reflection; consequently, there is not mtich food for the passions; notwithstanding everything in act- ive minds serves as a stituulant.to inflame the feelings. A fortunate circiniistance placed him in a rich Arabian inercliant’s house, and be dying, llllahomet married his widow. By this marrige-he suddenly became possessor of im- mense wealth, which his master had left. The seeds of ambition with which be had been born sprang up in his heart on obtaining this~fortuue. At first he only proposed to ag- grandize himself; but the spirit of conquest having seized him, he was chiefly anxiotis to fulfil this desire: however, they both seemed to be worthy his pursuit, and he studied every way to accomplish his ends. Treason, perfi- dy, nitirders, sacrilege, and robbery of ,every description, excited in him no remorse. He viewed them only as a. greedy conqueror. He. trampled tiponjustice and humanity, regard- ing thetn only as the offspring of weak and timid minds, which not being capable ofgreat or elevated undertakings, are sensible to pity only because they feel how they themselves need support. He put himself at the head of a band of robbers, by whose aid he ravaged Arabia; the expectation of booty increased his banditti, and daily his dominion enlarged ; his success spread terror around, and very soon he became master of an immense extent of country. But arms alone werelnot sufficient for the preservation of his power, over a peo- ple whom he had subdued through fear. He felt the necessity of adding imposture to‘ty- ranny, in order to strengthen his empire, and he suggested a system of religion that assur- ed to him the blind obedience of the people whom he had conquered. The few principles he had imbibed when under the influence of his parents, ought to have raised some remorse when he was contemplating the impious part he was about to play ; but when ambition is carried to its highest pitch, every object is sacrificed to this unbridled passion, and even the most sacred things are abused, when it is believed they may prove instrumental _to ag- grandizement.’ ,‘ Toaccomplish his purpose, be employed_.au heretical J acobite-—a true Nestorian Monk, anda Jew, to assist him in writing his Koran, a most extraordinary com- position, full of absurd and sublime ideas,mix-, ed together without order or method._ By this disorder and irregularity, he flattered himself the divinity of his mission would be establish- ed". The prophetic enthusiasm—the obscuri- ty of his writings—-their want ofconnection— the miracles with which this extraordinary compilation abounds, produced astonishment in the vulgar, and contributed to excite belief in the imposition, and presently a firin_reli- aiice that the iiiipostor himselfwas a Prophet sent from the Most High to declare to man the trite worsliip he owed the Deity. The co- operators in this imposture might have ex- posed it, and ruined all the hopes of this as- piring man, and destroyed the very founda- tions of this monstrous building, had he not soon sacrificed them to his iuipious ambition; in order to have no witness of his infernal plot, he had all those who were coufidants .in his projects, cruelly massacred. Thus freed from any inqnietudes on that head, he gave ftill play to every kind of excess. His power dai- ly increased; be employed arms, eloquence, and artifice, for the purpose of extending his empire; and he carried his imposition so far as to pretend that an angel dictated to him the oracles of the all poweifztl under the seni- blance of a dove, be having a. bird of this kind generally upoti his shoulder. The epilepsy to which he was subject, contributed to Ill-I crease the belief in his,pre_tended mission. He easily persuaded a credulous atid ignorant people—struck, as they were, with astonish- ment and admiration at the pretended prodi- gies which he wrought before their eyes—_t_hat, at the sight ofthe angel Gabriel, he fell into ‘ecstacies which occasioned these convulsions; while,, in truth, they proceeded from the dis- ease. This ingenious deception was itself pro- ductive ofmost ofhis disciples; and he carried it on to the very last. Perceiving his end ap- proaching, he dictated the last chapter ofAl- coran as though he were inspired by Gen, and when about dying he said ‘ he was going to re- pose in the arms of the ETERNAL.’ , ‘ The dogmas of religion which Mahomet established gave him an absolute power oyer the people, and had they not rendered to him a blind obedience, they would have considered themselves guilty of a heavy crime. The pro- found ignorance in which he kept them con- tributed iuuch to make them subservient to his wishes. Hence arose that arbitrary and des- potic power which has produced to Mahomet and his successors the riches, the lives, and honor of their subjects, or rather their slaves, springing merely from the will or caprice of the sovereign. The people, entirely given up to the pleasures of the senses, and plunged In voluptuousness, have no other delight than in these enervating gratifications ; even death itself is not painful to contemplate, since they anticipate the possession ofcelestial beati- ties hereafter, if they strictly adhere, and are obedient to,the laws of their legislator- rnon ivimzs’ nncrsmzn. scheme of the British to build brigs ofa ‘pe- 'Niagara‘,and so obrain;”t_h_e mastery of the up- pet;li1k85—,-..!lI'«1_n.-.which -:.fii,.vo,yage to the;moon Thevpovver-of i'iia‘n",-.~it:;i_s’triie, mightvconvey a brig round ‘the tlatmict-;.bu: that or-iii the men "who ever lived, with the wealth of the whole world at command, .could not cause a. vessel to ascend it_: yet ‘we see that, (in a ve- ry intereresting nianuel of New-York, compi- led by Mr. Good_e-now:) during the late war, a vessel on]lake' ‘Ontario’, was directed to pro- ceed to Onondaga H ollow, there to receive a. parcel of cannon balls, and thence convey them to Rome, where-the cargo was to be dis- charged ! We are told by whom this wise or- der was issue_d——but,"as the fact is gravely re- lat_er_l, we have ceased to laugh at theidéa of srnlrng up the cataract of Niagara !._ihe A- llieflcrlll exhibition of ‘ignorance being less excusable than the British. ‘ Now, this was only about, or less than ten years ago. What was then a wilderness in N, York, has 9. or 800,000 inhabitatits——anil the” lands wrested from the forest are covered with’ flocks ofsheep and herds.of cattle. In parts where the wolf, at that time, had his home,- and the wild deer aboiinded as on his own soil, one tliousaiid men, fit for battle,’ may be called together by the spirit stirring sound of adrum. The voyage from the‘. city of New- York to the city of Detroit, is now enjoyed as a pleasurable excursion, and Michiliinackuac is visited by those who have a few days’ leisure and an inclination to ‘ see the world.’ The greatjlakes Ontario, Eric,'and Jlficliigan, have become familiar, like the Chesapealie bay ; Huron is already pressed with the burtheii of commerce, and Superior- . the pool, In which we might-souse Bm'tain’s island whole, will soon have her packets for the transport of’ and the busy huiu of industry has succeeded the whoop ofthe wild inhabitant ofthe woods. By the power ofsteam, the city ofNew-Or- leans seems as ifin the neighbourhood of the Falls of St. Anthony, and the Sault dc St.Ma- rie is about to be within the common range of the trade of New-York ! The Rocky moun- tains are as ifin view at St. Louis; and St. ,Louis,_that seemed as the uttermost point west, now in-free communication with Baltimore, has opened a trade with the internal provinces of Mexico! A settlement at the uiouth of the Columbia, has been seriously advocated in Congress, and will soon be .made underthe sanction ofgoveriinieiit; and, in a few years, ive may expect that some persons there, feel- ingtbemselves too much crowded,like ‘ Leath- er Stocking’ in the ‘Poiiieers,’ will seek a. country more west—Japan, perhaps, if good hunting could be expected therein 1 The his- tory oftlie ‘famous Col. Boone is the history of thousands ofhis countrymen. The uoless celebrated G-ov. Shelby, of Kentucky, the venerable and the brave, has, and yet lives on, amost elegant estate“ which he “discovered ;when in chase of a buffalo, after he had ar- rived at manhood. ' ' .—m_. FROM THE HARTFORD COU!'tAN1'.‘. .Mr. Editor-In accordance with the feel- which Iam well acquainted, and whichl high-. cation; and I do it with more readiness, be.- cause I know that the feelings of. the family been injured in the same way. Also, that a young man in Pittsfield, who was deranged, but is now in tlie,p,er,fec_t_ enjoyment of his reason, feels himself injured by an article in the same paper. To those who are acquain- ted with Mr. N_'ettleton, any contradiction of statements like-the above would be unnecessa- ry, I leave you, Sir, and the public to coin- ment upon the following communication. - -. .8 Lover Q/' Truth. The undersigned have obs_erved with pain- ligiotis Inquirer, some writer, in attempting to oppose the Rev‘. Mr. N ettleton, has seen fit to introduce to public notice our family. Itis with perfect astonishm‘ent,we find,in substance, the following statement theremade : ‘Another victim l not to Juggernaut, superstition nearer home. ‘ Mrs. P ' ,ofVeriion, has lately beeti de- ranged by the renowned Asahel Nettleton.’— The following circumstances, as near as we can recollect, are then mentioned: ‘ He called to visit. the family, presented to them a book, we presume the bible, out of which he said he could read the names of the elect. He pre- sent not finding their names mentioned, and Mrs. P. being of this number, became distres- sed. To complete the outrage, he called the second time, and it threw her (meaning our mother) into a confirmed delirium.’ ' Our family having often been questioned on this subject, out of regard to truth, we feel ourselves bound to declare, that aside from the fact that Mr. Nettleton did visit our fami- ly twice, and that our mother is deranged, not a single one of the above statements contains a shadow of truth. Our respected mother has been in communion with the church in Ver- non for sixteen years, and has always, while in health, appeared to enjoy the blessings of christian hope. We have decisive evidence from her pious life and conversation, that she has made her calling and election,sure. She has been in a bewildered state ofniind before-; and it is well tinderstood by all who are ac- quainted with her,~that her present derange- ment is occasioned wholly by ill health,wliich has been gradually advancing and increasing. for several years. When Mr. Nettleton visi- gether _with our mother then composed the whole of the family. He presented us with no book, not even the Bible, out of which he said he could read the names of the elect,an‘d said notliiug on the subject of election,‘ Chris- tian politeness seemed to characterize all his conduct and conversation while in our family, and we have ever felt grateful to him for his visits. Vie know not from whom the writer of the above article may pretend to have de- rived his information; it is enough for us to speak that we do know, and testgfy that we have seen.—-—0ut of regard to the feelings qf our family, we request the editor ofthc_Relz_- gious Inqui'rer’to insert this article in his pa- per, together with our names. - Hxanirzr PAYNE, _SALLr M. P.n'M:, M.n:r Pxxxn. Vernon, April 10th, 1823. We have ait hundred times laughed at the ‘ ,culia_r,‘construction’ to ascend the cataract of . in afcoal ,w;,aggon,f was iiotllessgimpracticable. - men and goods. The wilderness is conquered, _. ings and wishes of Mrs. Payne’s family, with: ' . ly regard, I send you the following comiiiuni- , connections of Mr. Fuller, of Somers, have’ ful emotions, that in a late iiuuiber ofthe Ra- , tended to read them ; two of the persons pre-~ ted us, we were all in the room ; and we. to- _~ but , Ill‘; , ( ll.
Norwalk Chronicler