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accustomed to grace her hospitality, as if in deference to

the travelled dignity of her guest. After a long, and, seem9 ingly, a meditating silence, the emigrant, who had, how

ever, seen no apparent necessity to suspend the functions

of his powers of mastication, resumed the discourse. 10 “It is a long road, as I have heard, from the waters of

the west to the shores of the main sea ?" 11 “It is a weary path, indeed, friend; and much have

I seen, and something have I suffered, in journeying over it.” 12 “A man would see a good deal of hard travel in going its length !"

“Seventy and five years have I been upon the road, and 13 there are not half that number of leagues in the whole dis

tance, after you leave the Hudson, on which I have not

tasted venison of my own killing. But this is vain boast14 ing! of what use are former deeds, when time draws to an end !”

“I once met a man, that had boated on the river he names, observed one of the sons, speaking in a low tone of voice,

like one who distrusted his knowledge, and deemed it pru15 dent to assume a becoming diffidence in the presence of a

man who had seen so much: “ from his tell, it must be a considerable stream, and deep enough for a keel, from top to bottom."

It is a wide and deep water-course; and many sightly 16 towns, are there growing on its banks,” returned the trap

per; “and yet it is but a brook, to the waters of the endless river !"

“I call nothing a stream, that a man can travel round,” 17 exclaimed the ill-looking associate of the emigrant; "a real

river must be crossed; not headed, like a bear in a country hunt."

“Have you been far towards the sun-down, friend ?" 18 again interrupted the emigrant, as if he desired to keep his

rough companion, as much as possible, out of the discourse. 19" I find it is a wide tract of clearing, this, into which I have

fallen." 20 “ You may travel weeks, and you will see it the same.

I often think the Lord has placed this barren belt of prairie, 21 behind the states, to warn men to what their folly may yet

bring the land! Ay! weeks if not months, may you jour22 ney in these open fields, in which there is neither dwelling nor habitation for man or beast. Even the


animals 23 travel miles on miles to seek their dens; and yet the wind

seldom blows from the east, but I conceit the sounds of axes, and the crash of falling trees are in my ears

As the old man spoke with the seriousness and dignity 24 that age seldom fails to communicate, even to less striking

sentiments, his auditors were deeply attentive, and as silent

as the grave. Indeed, the trapper was left to renew the 25 dialogue himself; which he soon did by asking a question,

in the indirect manner so much in use by the border inhabitants.

“ You found it no easy matter to ford the water-courses, 26 and make your way so deep into the prairies, friend, with teams of horses, and herds of horned beasts ?

“I kept the left bank of the main river," the emigrant 27 replied, “ until I found the stream leading too much to the

north ; when we rafted ourselves across, without any great

suffering. The woman lost a fleece or two from the next 28 year's shearing, and the girls have one cow less to their 29 dairy. Since then, we have done bravely, by bridging a

creek, every day or two." 30 “It is likely you will continue west, until you come to land more suitable for a settlement ?”

“ Until I see reason to stop, or to turn ag'in,” the emigrant 31 bluntly answered; rising at the same time, and cutting

short the dialogue, by an air of dissatisfaction, no less than

by the suddenness of the movement. His example was fol32 lowed by the trapper, as well as the rest of the party; and

then, without much deference to the presence of their guest, the travellers proceeded to make their dispositions to pass the night.


What constitutes a State ?
Not high-raised battlements or labored mound,

Thick wall or moated gate;
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned ;

Not bays and broad-arm ports,
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; :

Not starred and spangled courts,
Where low-browea baseness wafts perfume to pride ;

No; men : high-minded men:
2 With powers, as far above dull brutes endued

In forest, brake, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude :

Men, who their duties know,
But know their rights; and, knowing, dare maintain:

Prevent the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain.

These constitute a state ,
3 And sovereign law, that state's collected will,

O'er thrones and globes elate
Sits empress : crowning good; repressing ill.

Smit by her sacred frown,
4 The fiend discretion* like a vapor sinks ;

And e'en the all-dazzling crown Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. 5 Such was this heaven-loved isle :

Than Lesbos fairer, and the Cretan shore ! 6 No more shall freedom smile? Shall Britons languish and be men no more ?

Since all must life resign,
7 Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave

"T is folly to decline, .
And steal inglorious to the silent grave.

Sir William Jones.

Sentence 2d.-A compound declarative double compact, with first and third proposition: the first having five members; and the second being perfect loose in four fragmentary parts; of which the fourth contains an imperfect loose. No, the fifth member of the first part, is the equivalent of the other four.

Sentence 4th.- A compound declarative single compact, third form : correla tive words when-then.

Sentence 7th. A compound declarative single compact, second form : correl. ative words since therefore,


During the last five or six years, Lyons has maintained a . 1 gallant struggle against the commercial spirit, in order to obtain a literature. Truly, I admired the wondrous constancy of the young artists that have devoted their lives to this overwhelming work : they are miners tracing a thread 2 of gold through a mass of granite : every blow they strike

scarcely removes a particle of the rock they attack, and yet, thanks to their persevering toil, the new literature has acquired, at Lyons, the right of citizenship; which it begins to enjoy. One anecdote out of a thousand will show the 3 influence that commercial prejudice exercises over the Lyonnese merchants in matters of art...

The drama of Antony was acted before a numerous audi4 ence, and, as has sometimes happened to that piece, in the

midst of a very violent opposition. A merchant and his 5 daughter were in a front-box, and near him, one of the en

* Discretionary, arbitrary power.

terprising authors I have mentioned. The father at first 6 took a lively interest in the drama; hut after the sceno

between Antony and the mistress of the inn, his enthusiasm manifestly cooled: his daughter, on the contrary, had from that moment felt an increasing emotion, which in the last act burst in a passion of tears. When the curtain fell, the

father, who had exhibited visible signs of impatience during 7 the last two acts, perceiving his daughter's tears, said,

“ Bless me! what a stupid girl you must be to allow your

self to be affected by such utter nonsense." 8 “ Ah, papa, it is not my fault,” replied the poor girl, quite confused; “ forgive me, I know that it is very ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous! yes, ridiculous is the proper phrase; for 9 my part, I cannot comprehend how any one could be inter

ested by such monstrous improbabilities.” 10 “ Good heavens, papa! it is just because I find it so per

fectly true.” 11 " True, child ! can you have paid any attention to the

plot ?"

12 “ I have not lost a single incident.” 13 “Well, in the third act Antony buys a post-chaise : is it

not so ?” 14 6 Yes: I reniember it.” 15 And pays ready money down on the nail.” 16 “ I remember it very

well." 17 “ Well, he never took a receipt for it.”

Alex. Dumas.




Easton, Saturday Morning, Nov. 13, 1756. MY DEAR CHILD,

I wrote to you a few days since, by a special messenger, 2 and inclosed letters for all our wives and sweethearts : ex

pecting to hear from you by his return, and to have the northern newspapers and English letters, per the packet;

but he is just now returned without a scrap for poor us. 3 So I had a good mind nyt to write to you by this opportu

nity ; but I never can be ill-natured enough, even when there is the most occasion. The messenger, says he left

the letters at your house, and saw you afterwards at Mr. 4 Dentic's, and told you when he would go, and that he lodged

at Honey's, next door to you, and yet you did not write ;

so let Goody Smith, give one more just judgment, and say 5 what should be done to you. I think I wont tell you, that

we are well, nor that we expect to return about the middle

of the week, nor will send you a word of news : that's poz 6 My duty to mother, love to the children, and to Miss Betsey

and Gracey, &c. &c.

I am


Your loving husband,

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 8 P.S. I have scratched out the loving words, being writ in

haste by mistake, when I forgot I was angry.



I wish it were in my power at this moment to impart to you, kind reader, the pleasure which I have felt whilst watching the movements and viewing the manifestation of feelings displayed by a single pair of these most favorite little creatures, (humming-birds,) when engaged in the demonstration of their love to each other: how the male swells his plumage and throat, and, dancing on the wing, whirls around the delicate female ; how quickly he dives towards

a flower, and returns with a loaded bill, which he offers to 1 her to whom alone he feels desirous of being united ; how

full of ecstacy he seems to be, when his caresses are kindly received; how his little wings fan her, as they fan the flowers, and he transfers to her bill the insect and the honey which he has procured with a view to please her; how these attentions are received with apparent satisfaction ; how, soon after, the blissful compact is sealed; how, then, the courage and care of the male are redoubled; how he even dares to give chase to the tyrant fly-catcher: hurries the blue-bird and the martin to their boxes, and how, on sounding pinions, he joyously returns to the side of his lovely mate. Reader, all these proofs of the sincerity, fidel

ity and courage, with which the male assures his mate of 2 the care he will take of her while sitting on her nest, may

be seen, and have been seen ; but cannot be portrayed or described. Could

you, kind reader, cast a momentary glance on the nest of the humming-bird, and see, as I have seen, the newly-hatched pair of young, (little larger than bumble-bees,)

naked, blind, and so feeble as scarcely to be able to raise 3 their little bills to receive food from the parents; and could

you see those parents, full of anxiety and fear, passing and repassing within a few inches of your face, alighting on

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