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Honored chief! His prayer was answered he was cheerful and resigned to the last. For several years he kept his dress for the grave prepared. Once and again, he came to Clinton to die; longing that his soul might be with Christ, and his body in the narrow house, near his beloved Christian teacher.

While the ambitious, but vulgar great, look principally to sculptured monuments and niches in the temple of earthly fame, Shenandoah, in the spirit of the only real nobility, stood with his loins girded, waiting the coming of his Lord.

His Lord has come! And the day approaches when the green hillock that covers his dust will be more respected than the Pyramids, the Mausolea, and the Pantheon of the proud and imperious.

His simple 'turf and stone' will be viewed with affection and veneration when the tawdry ornaments of human apotheosis shall awaken only pity and disgust.


Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sat reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did nature link

The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved iny heart to think

What man has made of man.

The birds around me hopped and played;

Their thoughts I cannot measure-
But the least motion that they made,

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven is sent,

If such be nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?


The converted Atheist. The famous astronomer, Kircher, having an acquaintance who denied the existence of a Supreme Being, took the following method to convince him of his error, upon his own principles. Expecting him upon a visit, he procured a very handsome globe of the starry heavens, which, being placed in a corner of the room, at which it could not escape his friend's observation, the latter seized the first occasion to ask from whence it came, and to whom it belonged.

Not to me,” said Kircher;." nor was it ever made by any - person, but came here by mere chance!

That, replied his skeptical friend, “is impossible. You surely jest." Kircher, however, seriously persisting in his assertion, took occasion to reason with his friend upon his own atheistical principles. will not,” said he, “believe that this small body originated in mere chance; and yet you would contend, those heavenly bodies, of which it is only a faint and diminutive resemblance, came into existence without order and design!"

Pursuing this chain of reasoning, his friend was at first confounded, in the next place convinced, and ul

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timately joined in a cordial acknowledgement of the absurdity of denying the existence of a God!


The Hour of Death.
Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath,

And stars to set—but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death!

Day is for mortal care,
Eve for glad meetings round the joyous hearth,

Night for the dreams of sleep, the voice of prayerBut all for thee, thou mightiest of the earth.

The banquet hath its hour,
Its feverish hour of mirth, and song, and wine;

There comes a day for grief's o'erwelming power, A time for softer tears—but all are thine.

Youth and the opening rose
May look like things too glorious for decay,

And smile at thee-but thou art not of those
That wait the ripened bloom to seize their prey.

Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath,

And stars to set-but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death!

We know when moons shall wane,
When summer birds from far shall cross the sea,

When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grainBut who shall teach us when to look for thee?

Is it when spring's first gale
Comes forth to whisper where the violets lie?

Is it when roses in our paths grow pale?
They have one season-all are ours, to die!

Thou art where billows foam,
Thou art where music melts upon the air;

Thou art around us in our peaceful home,
And the world calls us forth-and thou art there.

Thou art where friend meets friend, Beneath the shadow of the elm to rest

Thou art where foe meets foe, and trumpets rend The skies, and swords beat down the princely crest.

Leaves have their time to fall,
And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath,

And stars to set—but all,
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O death!


į Dr. Beattie and his Son.

It is much to be desired, that, in lessons to children, matters of fact, and examples taken from visible objects, should be made use of. This wise method of instruction was, perhaps, never more forcibly and more usefully employed, than in the following instance of Dr. Beattie's son.

The doctor, speaking of his son, thus observes: “He had reached his fifth or sixth year, knew the alphabet, and could read a little; but had received no particular information with respect to the Author of his being. [Surely, this was most culpable neglect in the parent.] In a corner of a little garden, without informing any person of the circumstance, I wrote, in

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the mould, with my finger, the three initials of his name, and, sowing garden-cresses in the furrows, covered up the seed, and smoothed the ground.

“ Ten days after, he came running to me, and, with astonishment in his countenance, told me his name was growing in the garden. I laughed at the report, and seemed inclined to disregard it; but he insisted upon my going to see what had happened. * Yes,' said I carelessly, on coming to the spot, ` I see

But what is there in this worth notice? is it not mere chance?' and I went away. He followed me, and, taking hold of my coat, said, with some degree of earnestness, 'It could not be mere chance, for that somebody must have contrived matters so as to produce it.'

So, you think,' said I, that what appears so regular as the letters of your name, cannot be by chance?' Yes,' said he, with firmness, “I think so. · Look at yourself,' I replied; 'consider your hands and fingers, your legs and feet, and other limbs; are they not regular in their appearance, and useful to you?' He said they were. Came you then hither,' said I, 'by chance?' No,' he answered, 'that cannot be; something must have made me.' And who is that something?' I asked. He said, I don't know.'

“I had now gained the point I aimed at, and saw that his reason taught him, (though he could not express it,) that what begins to be, must have a cause; and that what is formed with regularity, must have an intelligent cause. I therefore told him the name of the great Being who made him and all the world; concerning whose adorable nature I gave him such information as I thought he could in some measure comprehend. The lesson affected him greatly, and he never forgot it, nor the circumstance that introduced it."


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