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Sir Isaac Newton, in his 'Principles of Natural Philosophy,' has laid it down as a rule (and it is a rule as indisputably just as it is important,) that in experimental philosophy we are to look upon propositions collected by general induction from phenomena, as accurately or very nearly true, notwithstanding any contrary hypothesis may be imagined, till such time as other phenomena occur by which they may either be made more accurate or liable to exceptions ;' he adds, 'this rule we must follow, that the argument of induction may not be evaded by hypotheses.' Applying this rule to the present subject, we may observe that the objections urged against the conclusion that the earth is spherical, however plausible, are entitled to no weight whatever, unless they are grounded upon some certain facts and natural appearances arising from the figure of the earth, either inconsistent with the present-received theory or which that theory is insufficient to account for.

It is hardly necessary to remark, that the expressions occasionally to be met with in the Bible with regard to the figure of the earth, and which may appear to contradict the foregoing conclusion, have been improperly and very ignorantly applied to this subject. The object of the inspired writers who used them, was not to advance a true system of natural philosophy, or to correct the popular errours of the day in matters of mere science, but to illustrate or enforce some precept or doctrine, or to record the occurrence of some remarkable event, which could not be done intelligibly, but by adopting expressions in agreement with the opinions of the age.

The re-establishment of the old and long neglected opinion of the earth's spherical shape, may justly be regarded as furnishing an epoch in the history of modern ages. When admitted into the number of those truths which are assumed and acted upon without proof, it had an immediate and practical effect upon the common concerns of life. To traverse boundless seas was no longer matter for apprehension: the seaman was now provided with a method of discovering his relative position upon the globe, the course he had already described, and the distance and bearing of his destined port. Navigation thence assumed a bolder and more systematick character; an extensive commerce added to the wealth, and stimulated the efforts of European nations; and the more general and frequent intercourse inseparable from commerce softened the prejudices of men, and opened to them in distant climates and countries the richest and most varied stores of knowledge. We should not perhaps be justified in placing this discovery in the same rank with the other great events which happened about this era: the invention and general introduction of the art of printing—the reformationand the establishment of experimental philosophy, must stand alone; but it forms together with them a class of great and brilliant events, which exhibit the human mind as once more in a state of activity, and putting forth all its energies in the attainment of whatever might most conduce to the social and moral improvement of mankind."

PRESIDENT JEFFERSON'S OPINION OF ARDENT

SPIRITS.

"The habit of using ardent spirits by men in publick office, has occasioned more injury to the publick service -and more trouble to me than any other circumstance which has occured in the internal concerns of the country, during my administration; and were I to commence my administration again with the knowledge I have acquired from experience, the first question I should ask, with regard to every candidate for publick office, would be, "Is he addicted to the use of ardent spirits ?"

"Ten measures of garrulity" says the Talmud, were sent down upon the earth, and the women took nine." VOL. II.-27

POETRY.

THE WINDS.-BY MR. Ord.
Harp on, ye winds! in glad content,
Your hymns on every instrument

Of rock, and mount, and cave;
The trees their joyful notes will bring,
Each flower, each blade of grass, will sing
Your measures, glad or grave.

And not to me alone the songs
That to your minstrelsey belongs,
Of joys that never cease;
The lonely spring, the quiet stream,
The lake low murmuring as in dream,
Have heard your hymns of Peace.

The nightingale, in sweetest note,
To you her lone complaint hath brought,
To you each bird hath sung;
The weed-clad tower of ancient time,
The church-bell's solitary chime,

Have join'd your banner'd throng.
Who, who may tell whence ye arise?
In what far region of the skies?
In what high forest tree?
Ye come as rushing hosts of war,
As loosen'd cataracts heard afar,
As thunders of the sea.

Or fanning round the wild bird's wing,
Or by the moon's cold pathways sing
Along the milky way;

Or through fierce caves and arches high,
Where Ruin mocks the morning sky,

Ye woo the love-worn day.

And whence that influence, dark and dim,
That wakes the soul's Eolian hymn

To measures glad and gay?
That breathes unto the midnight hour
Such spell of mystery and power,

And holds monarchick sway?
That makes the Poet weep and sigh,
That gathers tears in Beauty's eye,

And dreams around its head; That, breathed in sounds of awe and fear, Doth sing unto crazed lover's ear,

Old songs of maiden dead?
That treadeth where no foot can go,
That murmurs where no fount can flow,

Where no proud pennant streams;
That to the stars and to the moon
Doth ever sing a slumbering tune-

The very Queen of Dreams?

For ever breathed your hymns of love! Ye called the laurel-seeking dove

Out from the foundering ark; Ye came to Ruth among the corn, Singing of distant lands forlorn Beyond the waters dark.

Ye waved the rushes o'er the brow Of Moses, when the ladies saw

God's chosen nod his head; Ye caught the stir of Jordan's sea, To Israel's king ye sang in glee

Ere Absalom was dead.

Yo speak to us of human life!
One hour of calm, one hour of strife,

Now bright, now dark your form! At morn ye sing to tree and flower, The evening hears your tread of power, And trembles in the storm.

Ye speak of human life! Ye go,
We know not where-ye have a flow
Wilder than ocean wave;
Heaven scarce can hold ye, and the bound
Of earth knows not your various sound
More than the secret grave.

Ye speak of human life! now high,
Like thunder-clouds, ye brave the sky,
Now sleep ye by the streams;
Ye are like earthquakes roaring wild
And then make musick, as a child
That singeth in its dreams.

Away, my fancies! even now
I feel no more upon my brow
The mountain-breezes fall
The stars are out, and I must go
Down to my quiet home below,
Among the poplars tall.

And I, whilst dreaming in my bed,
Will list your dirges o'er my head,
And think ye sing to me,
And dream that I have wings like you,
To fan the locks on heaven's clear brow,
And roll unchain'd and free.

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monument stands, comprising 15 acres, cost the Society $24,000. The Society have been much embarrassed with the immense expense of the work, and for a long time past they have been unable to progress.

But we understand they have renewed their efforts this fall, and that their means have been sufficiently enlarged to carry them through. The military of Louisiana, on the ground that it is a matter which in

Above, we give a representation of the Monument | about being completed at Charlestown, in commemoration of a battle, upon its very grounds, the most bloody in its details, and perhaps the most important in its consequences of any that took place during the Revolution. The Battle was fought on the 17th day of June, 1775. Just 50 years after, viz: on the 17th of June, 1825, the corner stone of this Obelisk was laid, in the presence of the illustrious Lafayette, and an im-terests the whole country, have recently rendered the mense concourse of spectators who had assembled from all quarters to witness the interesting ceremonies. The foundation, 50 feet in diameter was found insufficiently deep to resist the effects of the frost, and was therefore taken up, sunk and relaid again on the 21st of July 1827. While the Society possessed funds, the work progressed under the superintendence of Mr. Solomon Willard architect, who generously offered three years of his services, and gave $1000 to forward the undertaking.

The obelisk is to rise 220 feet from the foundation; to be 30 feet square at the base, and 15 feet at top, with internal spiral stairs ascending the whole height. When completed, this monument will be the highest of the kind in the world, and it is said not much lower than the Egyptian Pyramids.

It will require 6,700 tons of Quincy granite, consisting of eighty courses, each course two feet and eight inches in width. Fourteen courses have been already laid on, amounting to 2,800 tons, and reaching upward about forty feet. The lot of ground upon which the

Society some pecuniary assistance. All obstacles it is said are now nearly overcome, and they have commenced operating this fall with the expectation of completing the monument within the coming year.

We take the following description of the memorable Battle of Bunker's Hill from Botta:

"The right wing of the Americans was flanked by the houses of Charlestown, which they occupied; and the part of this wing which connected with the main body, was defended by the redoubt erected upon the heights of Breed's Hill. The centre, and the left wing, formed themselves behind the trench, which, following the declivity of the hill, extended towards, but without reaching Mystic river. The American officers having reflected that the most feeble part of their defensive was precisely this extremity of the left wing, for the trench not extending to the river, and the land in this place being smooth and easy, there was danger of being turned, and attacked in the rear, they determined, therefore, to obstruct this passage by two parallel palisades, and to fill up with herbage the inter

to commence. The Bostonians and soldiers of the garrison not in actual service were mounted upon the spires, upon the roofs, and upon the heights. The hills and circumjacent fields, from which the dread arena could be viewed in safety, were covered with swarms of spectators, of every rank, and age, and sex; each agitated by fear or hope, according to the party he espoused.

val between the one and the other. The troops of more and more; an innumerable multitude, rushing Massachusetts occupied Charlestown, the redoubt, and from all parts, to witness so unusual a spectacle, and a part of the trench; those of Connecticut, command- see the issue of the sanguinary conflict that was about ed by captain Nolten, and those of New Hampshire, under Colonel Starke, the rest of the trench. A few moments before the action commenced, Doctor Warren, who had been appointed General, a personage of great authority, and a zealous patriot, arrived with some reinforcements. General Pomeroy made his appearance at the same time. The first joined the troops of his own province, of Massachusetts; the second took command of those from Connecticut. General Putnam directed in chief; and held himself ready to repair to any point where his presence might be most wanted. The Americans had no cavalry: that which was expected from the southern provinces was not yet arrived. Their artillery, without being very numerous, was nevertheless competent. They wanted not for muskets; but the greater part were without bayonets. Their sharp-shooters, for want of rifles, were obliged to use common fire-locks; but as marksmen they had no equals. Such were the means of the Americans; but their hope was great, and they were all impatient for the signal of combat.

"Between mid-day and one o'clock, the heat being intense, all was in motion in the British camp. A multitude of sloops and boats, filled with soldiers, left the shore of Boston, and stood for Charlestown: they landed at Moreton's Point, without meeting resistance; as the ships of war and armed vessels effectually protected the debarkation with the fire of their artillery, which forced the enemy to keep within his intrenchments. This corps consisted of ten companies of grenadiers, as many of light infantry, and a proportionate artillery; the whole under the command of Majorgeneral Howe and Brigadier-general Pigot. The troops on landing began to display, the light infantry upon the right, the grenadiers upon the left; but, having observed the strength of the position, and the good countenance of the Americans, General Howe made a halt, and sent to call a reinforcement.

"The English formed themselves in two columns. Their plan was, that the left wing under General Pigot should attack the rebels in Charlestown, while the centre assaulted the redoubt; and the right wing, consisting of light infantry, should force the passage near the river Mystic, and thus assail the Americans in flank and rear: which would have given the English a complete victory. It appears, also, that General Gage had formed the design of setting fire to Charlestown, when evacuated by the enemy, in order that the corps destined to assail the redoubt, thus protected by the flame and smoke, might be less exposed to the fire of the Provincials.

"The dispositions having all been completed, the English put themselves in motion. The provincials that were stationed to defend Charlestown, fearing lest the assailants should penetrate between this town and the redoubt, and thus to find themselves cut off from the rest of the army, retreated. The English immediately entered the town, and fired the buildings: as they were of wood, in a moment the combustion became general.

"They continued a slow march against the redoubt and trench, halting from time to time for the artillery to come up and act with some effect previous to the assault. The flames and smoke of Charlestown were of no use to them, as the wind turned them in a contrary direction. Their gradual advance, and the extreme clearness of the air, permitted the Americans to level their muskets. They however suffered the enemy to approach before they commenced their fire, and waited for the assault in profound tranquillity. It would be difficult to paint the scene of terrour presented by the actual circumstances. A large town, all enveloped in flames, which, excited by a violent wind, rose to an immense height, and spread every moment

"The English having advanced within reach of musketry, the Americans showered upon them a volley of bullets. This terrible fire was so well supported, and so well directed, that the ranks of the assailants were soon thinned and broken: they retired in disorder to the place of their landing, and some threw themselves precipitately into the boats. The field of battle was covered with the slain. The officers were seen running hither and thither, with promises, with exhortations, and with menaces, attempting to rally the soldiers, and inspirit them for a second attack. Finally, after the most painful efforts, they resumed their ranks and marched up to the enemy. The Americans reserved their fire, as before, until their approach, and received them with the same deluge of balls. The English, overwhelmed and routed, again fled to the shore. In this perilous moment General Howe remained for some time alone on the field of battle: all the officers who surrounded him were killed or wounded. It is related, that at this critical conjuncture, upon which depended the issue of the day, General Clinton, who, from Cop's Hill, examined all the movements, on seeing the destruction of his troops, immediately resolved to fly to their succour.

"This experienced commander, by an able movement, re-established order; and, seconded by the officers, who felt all the importance of success, to English honour and the course of events, he led the troops to a third attack. It was directed against the redoubt at three several points. The artillery of the ships not only prevented all reinforcements from coming to the Americans, by the isthmus of Charlestown, but even uncovered and swept the interiour of the trench, which was battered in front at the same time. The ammunition of the Americans was nearly exhausted, and they could have no hopes of a recruit. Their fire must of necessity languish. Meanwhile, the English had advanced to the foot of the redoubt. The provincials, destitute of bayonets, defended themselves valiantly with the butt end of their muskets. But the redoubt being already full of enemies, the American general gave the signal of retreat, and drew off

his men.

"While the left wing and centre of the English army were thus engaged, the light infantry had impetuously attacked the palisades which the provincials had erected in haste upon the bank of the river Mystic. On the one side, and on the other, the combat was obstinate; and if the assault was furious the resistance was not feeble. In spite of all the efforts of the royal troops, the provincials still maintained the battle in this part; and had no thoughts of retiring, until they saw the redoubt and upper part of the trench were in the power of the enemy. Their retreat was executed with an order not to have been expected from new levied soldiers. This strenuous resistance of the left wing of the American army, was, in effect, the salvation of the rest; for, if it had given ground but a few instants sooner, the enemy's light infantry would have taken the main body and right wing in the rear, and their situation would have been hopeless. But the Americans had not yet reached the term of their toils and dangers. The only way that remained of retreat, was by the isthmus of Charlestown, and the English had placed there a ship of war and two floating batteries, the balls of which raked every part of it. The

Americans, however, issued from the peninsula without the streams alligators are sometimes engaged in deadly any considerable loss. It was during the retreat that encounters with the tiger. A battle of this kind witDoctor Warren received his death. Finding the corps nessed by a missionary, is described to have been a he commanded hotly pursued by the enemy, despising drawn one, for, although the tiger succeeded in dragging all danger, he stood alone before the ranks, endeavour-his unwieldly adversary into a jungle, after a lapse of ing to rally his troops, and to encourage them by his an hour or two the alligator was seen to emerge and to own example. He reminded them of the mottoes in- regain the water, not very materially injured by the conscribed on their ensigns; on one side of which were flict it had sustained.-Asiatic Journal. these words, "An appeal to Heaven;" and on the other, "Qui transtulit, sustinet:" meaning, that the same Providence which brought their ancestors through so many perils, to a place of refuge, would also deign to support their descendants.

:

The argument of Socrates to prove the immortality of the soul is this;

In nature, contraries produce their opposites. A "An English officer perceived Doctor Warren, and contrary can never enter into its opposite-as an odd knew him he borrowed the musket of one of his sol- number can never be even. The soul is the animating diers, and hit him with a ball, either in the head, or in essence of our bodies; it is always the same; it carthe breast. He fell dead upon the spot. The Ameri- ries life with it into all the bodies it enters ;-death is cans were apprehensive, lest the English, availing contrary to life ;-then the soul will never receive that themselves of victory, should sally out of the penin- which is contrary to what it carries in its own bosom; sula, and attack their head quarters at Cambridge.then the soul will not admit of death. That which But they contented themselves with taking possession never admits of death is called immortal;-the soul of Bunker's Hill, where they intrenched themselves, does not admit of death; therefore the soul is immorin order to guard the entrance of the neck against any new enterprise on the part of the enemy. The provincials, having the same suspicion, fortified Prospect Hill, which is situated at the mouth of the isthmus, on the side of the main land. But neither the one nor the other were disposed to hazard any new movement; the first, discouraged by the loss of so many men, and the second, by that of the field of battle and the peninsula. The provincials had to regret five pieces of cannon, with a great number of utensils employed in fortification, and no little camp equipage."

ALLIGATORS ON THE GANGES.

The banks of the Ganges opposite to Monghyr have not the slightest pretensions to beauty; low, flat, swampy and intersected with reedy islets, they are the haunts of multitudes of Alligators, which, in the hot season, may be seen sunning themselves by the side of the huge ant-hills erected upon the sand-banks, appearing above the surface of the water. Some of these animals attain to a prodigious size; they are exceedingly difficult to kill, in consequence of the adamantine armour in which the greatest part of their bodies is cased. Even when the balls penetrate less guarded points they are so tenacious of life as to cause a great deal of trouble before they can be finally despatched. One, which had received eight balls, and was supposed to be dead, after having been tied to the bamboo of a budgerow for a whole day, exhibited in the evening so much strength and fierceness, as to be a dangerous neighbour. Many of these monsters are fifteen feet long, and swim fearlessly past the boats, lifting up their terrifick heads, and raising their dark bodies from the water as they glide along. Though not so frequently as in former times, when the echoes of the river are less disturbed by the report of fire arms, natives are still the victims of that species of alligator, which lies in wait for men and animals, venturing incautiously too near their haunts. In many that have been killed, the silver ornaments worn by women and children, have been found, a convincing proof of the fearful nature of their prey. An alligator, it is said, will sometimes make a plunge amidst a group of bathers, and singling out one of the party dart into the middle of the stream, defying pursuit by the rapidity of its movements against the current, through which it will fly with the velocity of an arrow, and, having reached deep water, it sinks with its victim into the abyss of the river. Sportsmen, the younger portion especially, delight in waging war against these giants of the stream, as they lie wallowing in the mud in shallow places, and presenting the defenceless parts of their bodies to the marksman. In the Sunderbunde, where the creeks and natural canals of the Ganges wind through the forests whose margin almost mingles with

tal.

THE WAY TO ANSWER QUESTIONS.
What makes a body hot?

You would not say it was heat, but fire.
What makes a body sick?

You would not say it was sickness, but fever.
What makes a number odd?

You would not say oddness, but unity.

These things have their use. If people would but speak properly, definitely and thoughtfully, how much more nearly would the purposes of language be accomplished, and how much less perplexity would harass men's brains.

Conversation enriches the understanding, but solitude is the school for genius.-Gibbon.

TO THE EVENING WIND.-BRYANT.
Spirit that breathest through my lattice, thou
That coolest the twilight of the sultry day,
Gratefully flows thy freshness round my brow;
Thou hast been out upon the deep at play,
Riding all day the wild blue waves till now,
Roughening their crests, and scattering high their spray,
And swelling the white sail. I welcome thee
To the scorched land, thou wanderer of the sea!

Nor I alone-a thousand bosoms round
Inhale thee in the fulness of delight;
And languid forms rise up, and pulses bound
Livelier, at coming of the wind of night;
And, languishing to hear thy grateful sound,
Lies the vast inland stretched beyond the sight.
Go forth into the gathering shade; go forth,
God's blessing breathed upon the fainting earth!

Go, rock the little wood-bird in his nest,

Curl the still waters, bright with stars, and rouse
The wide old wood from his majestick rest,

Summoning from the innumerable boughs
The strange, deep harmonies that haunt his breast:
Pleasant shall be thy way where meekly bows
The shutting flower, and darkling waters pass,
And'twixt the o'ershadowing branches and the grass.

The faint old man shall lean his silver head

To feel thee: thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
And dry the moistened curls that overspread
His temples, while his breathing grows more deep;
And they who stand about the sick man's bed,
Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep,
And softly part his curtains to allow
Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.

Go-but the circle of eternal change,

That is the life of nature, shall restore,
With sounds and scents from all thy mighty range,
Thee to thy birth-place of the deep once more;
Sweet odours in the sea air, sweet and strange,
Shall tell the home-sick mariner of the shore;
And listening to thy murmur, he shall deem
He hears the rustling leaf and running stream.

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The History of Halifax in Yorkshire, 12mo. 1712, sets forth "a true account of their ancient, odd, customary gibbet-law; and their particular form of trying and executing of criminals, the like not used in any other place in Great Britain." The Halifax gibbet was in the form of the guillotine, and its gibbet-law quite as remarkable. The work referred to, which is more curious than rare, painfully endeavours to prove this law wise and salutary. It prevailed only within the forest of Hardwick, which was subject to the lord of the manor of Wakefield, a part of the duchy of Lancaster. If a felon were taken within the liberty of the forest with cloth, or other commodity, of the value of thirteen-pence halfpenny, he was, after three market-days from his apprehension and condemnation, to be carried to the gibbet, and there have his head cut off from his body. When first taken, he was brought to the lord's bailiff in Halifax, who kept the town, had also the keeping of the axe, and was the executioner at the gibbet. This officer summoned a jury of frith-burghers to try him on the evidence of witnesses not upon oath: if acquitted he was set at liberty, upon payment of his fees; if convicted, he was set in the stocks on each of the three subsequent market-days in Halifax, with the stolen goods on his back, if they were portable; if not, they were placed before his face. This was for a terrour to others, and to engage any who had aught against him, to bring accusations, although after the three market-days he was sure to be executed for the offence already proved upon him. But the convict had the satisfaction of knowing, that after he was put to death, it was the duty of the coroner to summon a jury, "and sometimes the same jury that condemned him," to inquire into the cause of his death, and that a return thereof would be made in

to the Crown-office; "which gracious and sage proceedings of the coroner in that matter ought, one would think, to abate, in all considering minds, that edge of acrimony which hath provoked malicious and prejudiced persons to debate this laudable and necessary custom." So says the book.

In April, 1650, Abraham Wilkinson and Anthony Mitchell were found guilty of stealing nine yards of cloth and two colts, and on the 30th of the month received sentence, "to suffer death, by having their heads severed and cut off from their bodies at Halifax gibbet," and they suffered accordingly. These were the last persons executed under Halifax gibbet-law.

The execution was in this manner:-The prisoner being brought to the scaffold by the bailiff, the axe was drawn up by a pulley, and fastened with a pin to the side of the scaffold. "The bailiff, the jurors, and the minister chosen by the prisoner, being always upon the scaffold with the prisoner, in most solemn manner, after the minister had finished his ministerial office and christian duty, if it was a horse, an ox, or cow, &c. that was taken with the prisoner, it was thither brought along with him to the place of execution, and fastened by a cord to the pin that stayed the block, so that when the time of the execution came, (which was known by the jurors holding up one of their hands,) the bailiff, or his servant, whipping the beast, the pin was plucked out, and execution done; but if there were no beast in the case, then the bailiff, or his servant, cut the rope."

But if the felon, after his apprehension, or in his going to execution, happened to make his escape out of the forest of Hardwick, which liberty, on the east end of the town, doth not extend above the breadth of a small river; on the north about six hundred paces; on the

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