Smith seeing this Salvage but trifle the time to cut his throat, procured the salvages to breake the ice, that his Boate might come to fetch his corne and him; and gave order for more men to come on shore, to surprise the King, with whom also he but trifled the time till his men were landed: and to keepe him from suspicion, entertained the time with this reply.

"Powhatan, you must know, as I have but one God, I honour but one King; and I live not here as your subject, but as your friend to pleasure you with what I can. By the gifts you bestow on me, you gaine more then by trade: yet would you visit mee as I doe you, you should know it is not our custome, to sell our curtesies as a vendible commodity. Bring all your countrey with you for your guard, I will not dislike it as being over jealous. But to content you, to morrow I will leave my armes, and trust to your promise. I call you father indeed, and as a father you shall see I will love you: but the small care you have of such a childe caused my men perswade me to looke to myselfe."

By this time Powhatan having knowledge his men were ready whilst the ice was a breaking, with his luggage, women, and children, fled. Yet to avoyd suspicion, left two or three of the women talking with the Captaine, whilest hee secretly ran away, and his men that secretly beset the house. Which being presently discovered to Captaine Smith, with his pistoll, sword, and target hee made such a passage among these naked Divels, that at his first shoot, they next him tumbled one over another: and the rest quickly fled some one way some another: so that without any hurt, onely accompanied with John Russell, hee obtained the corps du guard. When they perceived him so well escaped, and with his eighteene men (for he had no more with him a shore) to the uttermost of their skill they sought excuses to dissemble the matter: and Powhatan to excuse his flight and the sudden comming of this multitude, sent our Captaine a great bracelet and a chain of pearle, by an ancient Oratour that bespoke us to this purpose, perceiving even then from our Pinnace, a Barge and men departing and comming unto us.

"Captaine Smith, our Werowance is fled, fearing your gunnes, and knowing when the ice was broken there would come more men, sent these numbers but to guard his corne from stealing, that might happen without your knowledge: now though some bee hurt by your misprision, yet Powhatan is your friend and so will for ever continue. Now since the ice is open,

he would have you send away your corne, and if you would have his company, send away also your gunnes, which so affrighteth his people, that they dare not come to you as he promised they should."

Then having provided baskets for our men to carry our corne to the boats, they kindly offered their service to guard our Armes, that none should steale them. A great many they were of goodly well proportioned fellowes, as grim as Divels; yet the very sight of cocking our matches, and being to let fly, a few wordes caused them to leave their bowes and arrowes to our guard, and beare downe our corne on their backes; wee needed not importune them to make dispatch. But our Barges being left on the oase by the ebbe, caused us stay till the next highwater, so that wee returned againe to our old quarter. Powhatan and his Dutch-men bursting with desire to have the head of Captaine Smith, for if they could but kill him, they thought all was theirs, neglected not any opportunity to effect his purpose. The Indians, with all the merry sports they could devise, spent the time till night: then they all returned to Powhatan, who all this time was making ready his forces to surprise the house and him at supper. Notwithstanding the eternal allseeing God did prevent him, and by a strange meanes. For Pocahontas, his dearest jewell and daughter, in that darke night came through the irksome woods, and told our Captaine great cheare should be sent us by and by: but Powhatan and all the power he could make would after come kill us all, if they that brought it could not kill us with our owne weapons when we were at supper. Therefore if we would live shee wished us presently to be gone. Such things as she delighted in he would have given her: but with the teares running downe her cheekes, she said she durst not be seene to have any for if Powhatan should know it, she were but dead, and so shee ranne away by her selfe as shee came.

SAMUEL FRANCIS SMITH.

SMITH, SAMUEL FRANCIS, an American clergyman and poet, the author of "America;" born at Boston, October 15, 1808; died at Boston, November 16, 1895. He was graduated at Harvard in 1829, Oliver Wendell Holmes and James Freeman Clarke being among his classmates; studied theology at Andover, and in 1834 became pastor of a Baptist church at Waterville, Me., and Professor of Modern Languages in the college there. In 1842 he became pastor of a church at Newton, Mass., and was also for seven years editor of the "Christian Review." He subsequently devoted himself to private teaching and to literary work, making music a specialty.

Our father's God! to Thee,
Author of Liberty,

To Thee I sing.

Long may our land be bright
With Freedom's holy light;
Protect us by thy might,
Great God our King!

THE MORNING LIGHT.

THE morning light is breaking;
The darkness disappears!
The sons of earth are waking
To penitential tears;
Each breeze that sweeps the ocean
Brings tidings from afar,
Of nations in commotion,
Prepared for Zion's war.

See heathen nations bending
Before the God we love,
And thousand hearts ascending

In gratitude above;

While sinners, now confessing,
The Gospel call obey,

And seek the Saviour's blessing-
A nation in a day.

SYDNEY SMITH.

SMITH, SYDNEY, an eminent English clergyman, wit, and essayist; born at Woodford, Essex, June 3, 1771; died at London, February 22, 1845. He studied at Oxford, took orders, and in 1794 became a curate. In 1797 he went to Edinburgh, where in 1802 Smith undertook the editorship of the "Edinburgh Review," and contributed largely to it for a quarter of a century. About 1804 he went to London. In 1828 he was made a canon of Bristol, and soon afterward rector of Combe-Florey in Somersetshire. In 1831 he was made Canon Residentiary of St. Paul's, London. Besides his contribu tions to the "Edinburgh Review," he commenced in 1807 a series of "Letters on the subject of the Catholics, to my Brother Abraham, who lives in the Country, by Peter Plymley." A collection of his miscellaneous writings, in four volumes, was published in 1840. After his death were published a volume of "Sermons" preached at St. Paul's, and "Lectures on Moral Philosophy."

WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS.

"OUR Wise Ancestors "The Wisdom of Our Ancestors" -"The Wisdom of Ages"-"Venerable Antiquity"-"Wisdom of Old Times." This mischievous and absurd fallacy springs from the grossest perversion of the meaning of words. Experience is certainly the mother of wisdom, and the old have of course a greater experience than the young: but the question is, Who are the old? and who are the young? Of individuals living at the same period, the oldest has of course the greatest experience; but among generations of men, the reverse of this is true. Those who come first (our ancestors) are the young people, and have the least experience. We have added to their experience the experience of many centuries; and therefore, as far as experience goes, are wiser and more capable of forming an opinion than they were. The real feeling should be, not, Can we be so presumptuous as to put our opinions in opposition to those of our ancestors? but, Can such young, ignorant, inexperienced persons as our ancestors necessarily