~$~"--'"--- - ---» .....¢~,,»_,,_____‘__,,,_.,_ . .. -- .»..—.,.-~, .. . .,, _ ‘TR.u'rs or rm: Aunonmrm-:s or‘ AMERICA.’ , This is the title ofaPo‘em lately published in Boston, design'ed to enlist the sympatlnes and exertions of our countrymen. in behalf of the iintutored savages of the wilderness. The author urges these ‘exertions, (says the Chris- iitm Spectaton) not only as our peculiar titttgj, because provideirce has placed us'ln their Vl- cinity, but as an act which Justzce demands from a people who have wrested from them their native soil in cruel and extermitiating wars, desolated their habitatlions, zpid drtvpln the unhappy survivors to see t a re uge in t e ‘wilderness. We copy his solemn and patliet- ic expostulation and appeal.’ My dim eye [those Turns from the glare of carnage, turns from ‘Who knew the law of niercy-, yet efi'ac’d Its precepts with their swords. Once more it seeks The outcast Indian, who had never heard His Saviour’s will. ' It seeks btit he is rrone! i . 1:, Like the light vapour trembling o’er the lakes He vanishes! No more his fishing line ' Breaks the fair surface ofthy crystal breast, Ontario ! nor lns rapid bark descends The rollitig Hudson. Silent is the shout Of the glad hunter, in the forest shades 'OfSusquehannah. What hascrusli’d the pride Ofgreat Potoiiiac’schieftaiii? “That has swept The mighty Mohawlt, and fierce Delaware From their own realms? Why is thy bound- less vale, Shenandoah, tenantless ? Thy silver wave, Bold Rappahannock, why does it reflect No more, those ‘cl-ark red features ? Hear ye not A sighing spirit frotii that distant bonrn 'Whenc'e there is no rettnii, as iftlie winds Moan’d deep and hollow thro’ some broken arch "With mould’riug moss o’crgrown E t » “ Oh I ye \\ ho tread 0’er our forgotten ashes, who behold [sake Our sons renounce their birtliright, and for- The shade of buried glory, ye have reft Th.cir ancient freedom, can ye. lead their souls To liberty and light? Their heritage On earth ye cancel; oh! provide a home In future worlds. Life’s pilgrimage to them Is darkness; will ve lend that lamp which gilds The vale ofdeatli ? To them,the hand ofTime Yields but the cup ofsorrow ; can ye guide To a sure refuge on the hastening shores Ofdread Eternity ?” Behold the appeal Already heeded! As the gleaming bow I’aints its soft emerald on the fading storm, Presagc of calmness, thus thro’ dusky clouds A heavenly radiance sheds its infant beams, And the dark desert smiles. Thine eye beheld Its dawn, meek Eliot! * * * * w MY DOG AND MY SHADOW. In a solitary excursion through a wood, maj. Halden fell in with a man, whose singular ap- pearance attracted his attention. He was sit- ting on the ground at the foot ofa beach tree, eating a crust ofbread, which he shared bit by bit with his dog. His dress betrayed the tit- most poverty, but his countenance exhibited every symptom of cheerfulness. The Major saluted him as he rode past, and the man pul- led offhis hat. - Do you see? said he tohis dog, laughing. "What could the dog see? asked the Major, whose curiosity was much excited bythe man’s happy looks. The strange: laughed. Aye, said tlie-man, in a liumerotis tone, I wish to make the dog take notice ofyour civility; it is so uncommon for a well dressed person on horseback, an of- ficer besides, to lift his hat or cap to a tatter- ed foot passenger like me. VI/ho are you then? said the Major to the man, looking at him attentively. A child of fortune. A child of fortune! you mistake, without doubt; foryour coat seems to speak otherwise. My coat is in the right, sir. Btit as I can joke in this coat, the only one I have, it is of as much value to tire as a new one, even ifit had a star upon it. If what you say does not proceed from a dis- ordered iiiind,you arein the right,couutryman. A disordered tnind, or a light mind,is some- times the gift of God, at least for children of fortune efmy case. My fate once hung heavy on my mind, like lead, but care now passes thro" it as the wind does thro’ my coat, and if that be a fault, it makes up fora great deal of misfortune. But, says the Major, whence did you come, and whither are you going ? That question is not difiicult to be answered sir. I came from my cradle, and am now go- ing strait forward to my grave. VVith these two stages of my life I am well acquainted.—— In a word ,I am endeavoringto soften my fate; but I must have something very engaging, for my dog and destiny remain faithful to ‘me ; and my shadow also-—-but like a false friend, only when the sun shines. You shake your head, sir, as ifyou mean to say‘I have made choice" of bad company. I thought so at first, but there is notlring so bad as not to be useful sometimes. My destitiy has made me hum- ble, and’ ta-uglit me what I did not before know, thatone cannot unhinge the world.- My dog has tanglit me thereis still love and fi- delity in it, and—-you cannot imagine what fine things one can talk with, and respecting one’s shadow. A .Respecting o‘ne’s shadow P that I do not un- derstand. You shall bear, sir—at sun-rise, when I am walking behind my lotig towering shadow what conversationl hold with it on pliilosoph- ical sulijects I Look, say I, dear shadow, art thou not like a youth, when the sun oflife is rising, the earth seems too small ? Just when I lift a leg, thou liftest another, as thou wouldst step over ten acres at once; and yet when thou puttest down thy leg, thy step is scarce- ly a span long; so fares l[ with youth. He seems as iflie would destroy or create a world and yet in the end, he does none of those things which might have been expected from his discourse. Let the sun now rise higher and thou wilt become smaller, as the youth boasts less the older he grows. Thus I com- pare, you see, the morning, noon, and evening shadow with a hundred things, and the long- er we walk together the better we get ac- quainted. At present, I can forego many things which I formerly considered indispen- sable riccessarics. The shadow isimy Watch and my pedonieter—-and somctiines my foot- man. It is only a pitythat a man cannot ex- ist in his shadow as his shadow does in hirn.l_ Well, and what do you say in the evening. to your shadow ? ‘ ry serious thing—tlie best tnoralist—‘a,_real memento mori. When the shadow runs for- less visible, as if already hiding its head in the darkness of eternity, while behind one is the setting sun, and before one a rising star——the shadow then seems to say, thou art on the brink of eternity ; the sun is going down, btit lose not courage; like ‘me, thou wilt become always greater ; and before thee is already suspended a better star, the first ray of eterni- ty beyond the grave. With these words the man became serious, and the major also. Both looked at each other in silence. Hetii, said the niajor,yoti must go with uie, cotintrynian. He took the stranger by the hand, and conducted ltiiii to his house. FROM Tni: PERCY ANECDOTES. Tue BEAVER.—S() uiuch that is wonder- ful has been recorded ofthe beaver, that sev- eral intelligent writers have not scrupled to ex- press a belief, that it possesses but little ofthat surprising sagacity and skill ascribed to it.~— One ofthe latest writers on the subject, l1ow- ever, Mr. Joseph Sansum, ofNew-1’ork,gives an account of the Canadian beaver, which confirms the general charact’er given of their habits and physical economy. He tells us, - that in the deep recesses of Canadian forests, where the beaver is undisturbed by niati, it is conjugal fidelity and paternal care; laborious, thrifty, frugal, honest, watchful, and ingen- ious. He stibiiiits to government in the repub- lican form, for the benefits ofassociation : but is never known, in the most powerful comm"- tiities, to uiake depredations upon his weaker nciglibors. Whenever a number oftliese an- imals come together, theyimmediatcly coni- bitie in society, to perform the common busi- ness of constructing their liabitations, appa- rently acting uiider the most intelligent de- sign. The Indians were in the habit of prog- nosticatitig the tnildiiess or severity ofthe eti- suing winter, frotn the qtiaiitity ofprovisions laid in by the beavers for their winter’s stock. Though there is no appearance indicating the 3:l]lll0l’llj: Offl chief OI‘ l(*.at_ler, yet no cojjten- tion or disagreement is ever observed auioiig theui. When a sufficient iiutiiber ofthein are _C“”eCl‘?d W f0l‘m ft (own, the public business IS firstgattended to; and as they are amphibi- ous aninials,provision is to be uiade for spend- ing their time, occasionally both in and out of the water. In cotiforuiity to this law oftlicir nature, they seek El sittiation which is adapted to both these purposes. With this view a lake or pond, sometimes a running stream, is pitched upon. If it be a hike 07 POW’, the water’ in it is always deep enough to admit oftlieir swimtiiing under the ice. If it bea stream, it is alxvhys such a stream as will form a pond that shall be every way convctiient for their purpose ; and sticli is their ‘forecast, that they never fix upon a situation that will not eventually answer their views. Their next business is to construct a dam. This is always placed in the most con- venient part of the stream ; the form ofit is either straight, rounding or angular, as the pe- culiarities of the situation require; and no human ingenuity cotild improve their labors in these respects. The materials they use are wood and earth. They choose a tree on the river side, which will readily fall across the streatii; and some of them apply them- selves with diligence to ctit it through with their teeth. Others ctit down smallertrees, which they divide into equal and convenient lengths. Some drag these. pieces to the brink of the river, and others swim with tlieui to the spot where the dam is forming. . As many as can find room, are engaged in sinking one end of these stakes; and as nia- ny more in raising, fixing, and securing the other ends oftliem. Others are employed, at the same tiiue, in carrying on the plastering P3-t't of the work. The earth is brought in their mouths, fortiied into a kind of mortar with their feet and tails, and this is spread 0- ver the intervals between the stakes, saplings, and twigs, being occasionally interwoven with the mud and slime. Where two or three hundred beavers are united, those dams are from six to twelve feet thick at the bottom; at the top, not more than two or three. In that part ofthe dam which is opposed totlie current, the stakes are placed obliquely; but on that side where the water .35 I0 fall over, they are placed in a perpendic- lllal‘ direction. These dams are sometimes a hundred feet in length, and always ofthe ex- act height which will answer their purposes. The ponds thus formed, sotnetitiies cover five or six liutidred acres. They generally spread over grounds abounding with trees and bush- es of the softest wood, maple, birch, poplar, willow, &.c. and to preserve their dams a- gainst ioundation, the beaver always leaves sluices near the middle, for the redtnidaiit wa- ter to pass off. VVhen the public works are completed, the beavers separate »into small companies, to bttild cabins or houses for themselves. These are built upon piles, "along the borders ofthe pond. They are ofan oval construction, re- sembling a bee-hive; and they vary from five to ten feet in diameter, according to the num- ber of families they are to accommodate.- These dwellings are never less than two sto- ries high, generally three; and sometimes they contain four apartments. The walls of these are frotn two to three feet thick, formed of the sauie materials with the dams- On the inside, they are made smooth, but left rough without, being rendered impenetrable to rain. The lower story is about two feet high, the second is formed by a floor of sticks covered with mutl, and the upper apartment termin- ates with an arched roof. Through each floor there is a passage, and the uppermost floor is always above the level of the water. Each of these litits has two tloors, one on the. land side, to admit of their going out atid seeking pro- visions that way; atiotherunder the water, and below where it freezes-, toprescrve their cotntrituiicatioti with the pond. . No association of people can possibly ap- pear more happy, or be better regulated, than the tribe of beavers. The tnale and female alwavs pair. In September, they lay tip their‘ winter’s stock, which consists of bark and the tendertwigs oftrees. Then commences the season of love and repose; and during the winter they rcniaiu within, evet'v._‘.0ne enjoy- ing the fruits ofhis own labor, Wit-ll0lll piller- ing from any other. 4 ‘. , Towards spriiig, the females bring forth ‘their young, to the number of‘ three or four. Soon after, the male retires to gather firs and vegetables. as the spring opens ; but the daui reuiain's at home to nurse and rear up their In the evening a man’s sliadow tliéh is a ve- ward before ‘one, still becoming lotiger and“ a practical example ofalmost every virtue, of young. The male occasionally returns home, but not to tarry, until the end of the year ; yet, if any injury should ‘happen to their works, the whole society are collected, by some un- known means, and they join all their forces to repair‘ the injury which li_as been sustained. Wlieneier an enemy approaches their vil- lage, the bearer who first perceives the tin- welcome stranger, strikes on the water with his tail to give notice ofthe approaching dan- ger ; and the whole cai'eft:l tribe instantly plunge into thewater. I In a state of nature, undisturbed by-b_arbar- ous and selfish man, this provident animal lives fifteen or twenty years, and prepares the -way for several generations, adapting his dwellings to the increase of his fatnily. REVOLUTIONARY ms'ron1'. ./Ytlempt to take ./1rnold.—Gen. Washington having learned whither Arnold had flcd,deeiii- ed it possible still to take him, and bring him to the just reward of, his treaeliery. To ac- cotnplish an object so desirable, and atthe same time, in so doing, to save Andre, Wash- ington devised a plan, which, although it ul- timately failed, evinced the greatness of his powers, and his uiiwearied ardour for his country’s good. Having matured the plan, IVashington sent for Major Lee to repair to head qttarters, (‘at Tappan, on the Hudson.) “ I have sent for you,” said Gen. Washington,“ in the expec- tation that you have some one in your corps, who is willing to undertake a delicate and hazardous project. Whoever comes forward will confer great obligations on me personal- ly, and in behalfof the U. States, I will re- ward him amply. No time is to he lost ; he must proceed, ifpossible, to-night. I intend to seize Arnold, and save Andre.” Major Lee iiatned a serjeant major of his corps, by the name of C/ia.mpe——-a native of Virginia, a man full of bone and muscle— with. a countenance grave, tlioughtful and tacitnrn-—oftried courage, and inflexible per- severance. Chauipe was sent for by Lee, and the plan proposed, Tliis was f0!‘ hill) [0 desert—to escape to New-York——to appear friendly to the euemy—to watrh Arnold, and upon sotne fit opportunity, with the assistance of some one whom Cliauipe could trust, to seizehini, and conduct him to a place on the river, ap- pointed, where boats should be in readiness to bear them away. Cliampe listened to the plan attentively- bnt with the spirit ofa man of honor and of integrity, replicd——-“ that it was not danger nor difliculty that deterred him from itiiiiiediately accepting the proposal, litit ignoniy of deser- tion, and the hypocrisy of enlisting with the enemy 1"’ To these objections Lee replied, that al- though he would appear to desert, yet as be obeyed the call ofhis coniniander in chief, his departure could not be‘ considered as crimin- al, and that if he suffered in reputation for a time, the matter should one day be explained to his credit. As to the second objection, it was urged, that to bring such a man asArnold tojustice— loaded with guilt as he was——and to save Aii- dre——so young—so accoinplislied—so beloved —to achieve so niticli good in the cause ofhis country——was more than suflicient to balance a wrong existing only in appearance. The objections of Chanipe were at length surmounted, and he accepted the service. It was now eleven o’clock at night. VVith his iii- structions in his pocket, the serjeant returned to camp, and taking his cloak, valice, and or- derly book, drew his horse from the picket and mounted, putting liiiiiselfupou fortune. Scarcely had half an hour elapsed, before Capt. Carries, the officer of the day, waited upon Lee, who was vainly attempting to rest, and informed him, that one of the patrol had fallen in with a dragoon, who being challeng- ed, put sptir to his horse, and had escaped. Lee, hoping to conceal the flight of Chain- pe, or at least to delay pursuit, complained of fatigue, anti told the capt. that the patrol had probably mistaketi a countryman fora dragooii. Carnes, however, was not thus to be quieted ; but withdrew to assemble his corps. On cxznnination. it wasfound that Chauipe was absent. The capt. now returned antl ac- qu;,i,,[(,(] Lee with the tliscovery, adding that he had detached a party to pursue the desert- er, and beggt-‘tl the uiajor’s written orders. After making as much delay as was practi- cable without exciting suspicion, Lec deliver- ed his orders-—in which he directed the party to take Chanipc if possible. “Bring him a- live,’’ said he, “that he may suffer in the pre- sence of the army ; but kill him if he resists, or if he escapes after being taken.” A shower ofrain fell soon after Champe’s departure, which enabled the pursuing dra- goons to take the trail of his horse, his shoes, in common with those ofthe horses ofthe ar- my, being tnade in a peculiar form and each having a private mark, which was to be seen in the path. Middleton, the leader ofthe pursuing par- ty, left the camp a few minutes past twelve, so that Champe had the start of but little more than an hour—a period by far shorter than had been contemplated. ,During the night the dragoons were often delayed iti the necessary halts to examine the road ; but on the coming of tiioriiiiig, the im- pression of the horse’s shoes was so apparent that they pressed on with rapidity. Sotne miles frutii Bergen, (a village three miles north of New-York, on the opposite side ofthe lludson,) on ascending a hill, Cliainpe was tlescried not half a mile distant. . Fortu- nately Chainpe descricd his pursuers at the same moment, and conjecturing their object, put spur tohis horse with the hope ofescape. By taking a different road, Clltllt-)p8,'.\VflS for a time lost sight of——-but on Vapproacliing the river he was again descried. Aware of his daiiger, he now lashed his valice, contain- his his clothes and orderly book, to his shoul- tlcrs, and prepared liitnselfto plunge in.to the river if necessary. Swift was his flight and swift was the pur-' suit. Middleton and his party were within a few hundred yards, when Champe threw him- self from his liorse,aiid plunged itito the river, calling aloud upon some British galleys, at no great distance, for help. A boat was instantly dispatched to the ser- geant’s assistance, and a fire conitnenced up- on the pursuers. Champe was taken on board and soon after carried to N. York, with a let- ter frotii the captain of the galley, stating the past scene, all of which he had wittiessed. Adjoining the house in which Arnold resid- ed, and where it was designed to seize and gag liini,Chain;;: had taken off several ofthe palirigs-, and replaced them, so that with ease, and witliotit noise, he could readily open his way to the adjoining alley. Into this alley he intended to convey his prisoner, aided by his companion, one oftwo associates who had been introduced by the friend to whomCliam- pe had been originally made known by letter lrom the coniniauder in chief, and with whose aid and counsel he had so far conducted the enterprise. His other associate was with the boat prepared at one of the wharves on the Hudson river, to receive the party. , Chauipe and his friend intended to have placed themselves each under Al‘ll0id,$.Sll0lll- tlcr, and to have thus borne him through the must unfreqtiented alleys and streets to the boat, representing Arnold, in case of being qtiestioiicd, as a drunken soldier, whom they were conveying to the guard house. When arrived at the boat, the difficulties would be all surmounted, there being no dati- ger nor obstacle in passing to the Jersey shore. These particulars, as soon as made known to Lee, were communicated to the cnrritnander in chief, who was highly gratified with the much desired intelligence. He desired Ma- jor Lee to meet Cliampe, and to take care that Arnold should not be hurt. " The day arrived, and Lee, with a party of accoutred oflicers--one for Arnold, one for the sergeant, and the third for his associate, who was to assist in securing Arnold, left the camp, never doubting the success ofthe en- terprize, from the tenor of the last received commtiiiication. The party reached Hobo- ken about midnight, where they lay conceal- ed in the adjoining wood, Lee with Sdragoons stationed himself near the shore ofthe river. Hourafter hour passed btit no boat approached. ' At length the day broke, and the major re- tired to his party, and -rith led horses return- ed to the camp, where he proceeded to head quarters to inform the general of the much lamented (lisappointtnent, as mortifying as inexplicable. Washington having perused Chanipe’s plan and communication, had in- dulged the prestniiption, that at length the ob- ject of his keen atid constant pursuit was st.tre of execution, and did not dissenible the joy such a conviction produced. He was chagrin- edat the issue, and apprelientled that his faith- ful sergeant must have been detected in th last scene of his difficult etiterprize. ‘ In a few days Lee received an anonymous leiter from Chaiiipe’s patron and friend, iii- forniitig him, that on the day preceding the night fixed for the execution of the plot, Ar- nold had removed his quarters to another part of the town, to superintetid the enibarkation of troops preparing, as was rumored for an expedition directed by himself; and that the American legion, consisting chiefly of Amer- ican deserters, had been transferred from their barracks to one of the transports, it being ap- prehended that ifleft on shore, until the expe- dition was ready, many of them might desert. Thus it happened that John Champe, iti- stead of crossing the Hudson that night, was transports, from whence he never departed until the troops under Arnold landed in Vir- ginia. Nor was he able to escape from the British artny until after the junctioti of Corn- wallis at Petersburgh, when he deserted; and proceeding high up into Virginia, he passed into N. Carolina, near the Sattry towns, and keeping in the friendly districts of that state, safely joined the army soon after it had passed the Congaree, in pursuit of Lord Rawden. His appearance excited extreme stirprize a- tnoiig his former couirades, which was not a little increased, when they saw the cordial re- ception he met with frotii the late major, new lieutenant colonel Lee. His whole story was soon known to the corps, which re-produced the love and respect of both officer and sol- dier, (heretofore invariably entertained for the sergeant) heightened by universal admira- tion ofliis late daring and arduous attempt. Cliampe was introduced to Gen.Green,who cheerfully complied with the promise made by the commander in chief, so far as in his power; and having provided the sergeant with a good horse and money for his journey sent him to Gen. IVashington, who niutiificently anticipated every desire ofthe sergeant, and presented him with a discharge from further service, lest he might, in the vicissitudes of war, fall into the hands of the enemy, wlien,if recognized, he was sure to die on the gibbet. Extract Q/‘a Ieflerfrom rt gentleman in Wash- ington, to the editor of the Phil. ./Iurora. ‘The Memoirs of the late queen ofFr:ince, by Madam Campan, is an engaging work.— lts veracity cannot be doubted. Mr. Genet, former Minister ofFrance’ in the U. States, is a brother oftliat lady; and some of our most accomplislied women, such as President Mon- roe's daughter, Mrs. Hay, Mrs. Lowndes, of South Carolina, and the Miss Lees of Wash- ington, were educated at the celebrated Setti- inary oftliis distinguished woman at St. Gor- mains. They will no doubt vouch for the au- thenticity ofthose iiiostiiiteresting lieart-rend- ing inenioirs, which we have heard Madam Canipan was in the habit of reading to her ptipils in manuscript. It has been said much of her work has been suppressed, particularly that part which touched on the base intrigues of Monsieur, now Louis the l8tli,' and Count dc Artnis, against the unfortutiate Q_ueen.— Time will divulge the whole. ‘We hear Madam Campau’s Memoirs of Napoleon’s Houseliold, is shortly to appear, as she was more closely united with Josephine, than Marie Antoinette. These must also, prove amusing and instructing. ‘The fictions ofthe ‘ Great Unknown’ tnust give place to those extraordinary scenes ofte- al life, so adniirahly depicted by O’Meara, Las Cases, Montliolon, Bertrand and Madam Catnpan. The events of the French Revo- lution, and of the reign of the Great Napole-- on, must long occupy the intellectual world.’ The following very ‘extraordinary account of-the fate of Madame de Joulanges, is taken from tVIadaineCampaan’s ‘ Memoirs of the pri- vate life ofMariaAntoinette,Queen ofF. auce. Madame de Joulangues was Lady Abbess of Royal Lieu.—Dai. fidv. ‘This excellent woman fell a victim to rev- olutionary madness. She and her numerous bisters were led to the scaffold on the same day. While leaving the prison, they all chant- ed the Veni Creator upon the fatal ca r. When arrived at the place of punishment, they did not interrupt their strains. Otie head fell, and ceased to mix its voice with the celestial cliorus—-but the strain continuel. The ab- bess suffered last; and her single voice, with increased tone, still raised the devout versicle. It ceased at last-—it was the silence ofdeath.’ safely deposited on board one of the fleet of VA LUABLE PL.u'v'r.——Eztraci9 qf’a- latter an the geology and productions of Florida. _ The tnaguy ofMexico, the plaiitfrom which is drawn the liquor called pulque, of universal use and celebrity, in that country, is not a na- tive of Florida, but tlirives as well as ifit was. It forms a plant when full grown, from five to eight feet high in the body, and from ten to eighteen inches in diatneter§;‘“tlie leaves ofit, iflniay be allowed the term, for they appear inore like huge limbs than leaves'—bnt they must be called leaves, as they are the only lungs ofthe plant, descend from the top to the ground, and are so thick and heavy that two or three would make a man’s load. At the age; of from six to eight years old, it flowers, by shooting tip a stamina froui ten_ to sixteen feet ers, like a may-pole. Just before it sends forth» this exuberance, a change in the color ofthe plain. indicates its near approach, when a bowl lortned cavity is cttt in the head of the plant, and a caneiutroduced in the side ofitto draw off the liquor. Each plant yields frotn 50 to 150 gallons of liquor, and dies immediately after: but is succeeded by stickers leftin their r.uIt:-rc to keep up a constant succession. This juice, carried through a vinons fermentation, becomes a liquor resembling cider, but more spirituous, which is sought with avidity by all becomes a wine; and on distillation, aflbrtts a fine bratidy. The outward coat of leaves yields a uiembratietuis substance used for the uianufacture of cordagc ; an inner coat gives nal part of the leaf is an article of food. So that this productive plant, regarded by the Mexicans as one ofthe most beautiful gifts of nature, affords them cider, wine‘, brandy, cor- daze, clothing, food and fuel. From 19.’. to 15,000 tntiles are daily employed in supplying the city of Mexico,frotn the surrounding plati- tations, with pulqtie, which is the liquor in a ciderous state. Great estates are held in that country, in this article of culture. It is in the flowering ofthis plant, in a degenerate state, in colder climates, that we are deceived by supposing it the aloe that flowers once in a" century; this flowers in eight or ten years in such climates, and is not perhaps of the aloe tribe ; certainly it partakes not ofthe naseous bitter nor catliartic qualities of. the aloes we are acquainted ivitli. Remarkable instance of./Inimal Vilal1't_i/.——— Accounts of animals found inibedded in the hearts of trees, and in solid rocks, have never been so wellatitlienticatecl as to establish be- yond question the existence ofthose extraor- dniary phenomena, but a recent instance has come under our own cognizance, which af- fords distinct proof, not only ofthe preserva- tion oflife, butofthe natural growth and pro- preclude every idea but that ofaiinihilation.—- 1116 history of the specimen to which we al- lude is short and curious. Among the woods miported into this country for veneering and other ornatiicnts of furniture, one of the dry- est, hardest, and most beautiful, is the zebra wood._ In December last, in adzing the edges of an inside plank ofthis tree, abouttwo indir- Cerambyx was discovered. Its positioti was longfludillal with the grain ofthe wood ; and the sides oftliecavitycontaining it were smooth. The wood itselfwas perfectly dry, and had been brought to the saw-mill, near Stratford, PT°b_abl.Y lain many years. On Dec. 81, the 8peCIni_e_n was carried to that able naturalist, Ml“ Ch“; College of Surgeons; it was then in a torpid state, and apparently dead ; but on that gentleman’s bringing it near the fire, it recovered its vivacity, and ate some brown stiganvery greedily. Being placed in a warm situation,- it lived till the lfith of Jan. taking very little tiottrislinient, except milk and t‘."g- ter. It was kept upon a chimney piece or some twigs of a tree, under a bell-glass; so that pehaps the temperature mighthave been “’° hi.‘-éhi and its powers too much excited to allow it to live through the winter, There was another specimen in the same log of wood which was destroyed by the teeth ofthe saw, and led to the discovery of-liis more fortunate. companion, who not only escaped a violent death, but has thrown a light upon Natural History. The animal thus remarkably found and revived in our climate, is two inches long. .Tlie colotir darker than :1 cinnamon browti ; and what, considering his habit, was the most wonderful, his head was armed with two deli- catefecders, twice the length of his body.—— How these tender filaments were disposed in the hard wood puzzles conjecture: while :1- live it usually carried these antenna: over its back, but occasionaly brought theui forward. [l..itcrar_y Gazette. -Q39- Lrlsi 7Vee/c’s Om.is.<n'Ii-ns.) Jedediah Elliot, a revolutionary pensioner, was recently tried before the Circuit Court of the U. States, at Portland, (Maine) for per- jury. It appeared that he had taken the oath ‘VhIC_h was necessary to be retained on the pension list, while he held considerable pro- perty. VVhen the pension law ofl8920 was passed, which required pensioners to be whol- ly destitute, be conveyed his farm to his son, and took a mortgage from him by way of preserving his interest in it. He then’ took the oath, and was indicted, tried, convicted, and sentenced to 60 days iiiiprisonment, and to paya fine ofl0 dollars.-—.'V'. J. Eagle. The proprietors ofthe ‘ Ainerican Medical Recorder,’ offer a pretiiitun of 3100, or a gold tiiedal of equal value, for the best Essay on the causes ofthe epidemic fevers which have. for the last few years so fatally prevailed thro’ our country ; also oti their nature and the best mode of treatment. _Zachariah Flonim erfelt, Esq; ofLebanon N. was shot dead on Thursday last by one ofhis neighbors, whose land he had bought at Slierili"s sale, atid had gone on for the pur- pose of putting in a crop of corn. The per- petrator ofthe crime was ininiediateiy appre- heiidetl, and committed to Jail. 1'3j}'ects of 1ntcmpermice.—Cliarles Forrest, living near the town of Salem, N. J. has been coiiitiiitted to prison for the murder of his daughter. It appears that the wretched man had come home drtink,and his wife and dangli- ter had hid his rtitii jug—tliis so incensed him. that he beuan beating both tiiotlier and tlaugli-. ter in a uiosi: slioclting manner. The girldi- ed almost ininiediately after he had desisted. JosephDcnlinger, of MountPleasant,cut his throata few days since while in a state ofintox- ication. He had given himselfup tointemper—. ance,and became embarrassed in consequence. above the plant, georgeously hung’ with flow- ' ranks ofsociety; on boiling and clarifying. it- a finer sub.<.tance for cloathitig; and the ixiter- , gress of an animal in a state which seems to’ es within the edge ofthe plank, a species of Essex, from the London docks, where it had '
Norwalk Chronicler