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tient and laborious donkey of the establishment, who appeared to have regarded all their movements with philosophic indifference, pricked up his long ears, and gave a loud and most sonorous bray from his vocal shells. Instantly this prodigious multitude-and there were thousands of them took what the Spanish call the "stompado." With a trampling like the noise of thunder, or still more like that of an earthquake,—a noise that was absolutely appalling,— they took to their heels, and were all in a few moments invisible in the verdant depths of the plains, and we saw them no more.

Eulogy on William Penn.-DU PONCEAU.

WILLIAM PENN stands the first among the lawgivers, whose names and deeds are recorded in history. Shall we compare him with Lycurgus, Solon, Romulus, those founders of military commonwealths, who organized their citizens in dreadful array against the rest of their species, taught them to consider their fellow-men as barbarians, and themselves as alone worthy to rule over the earth? What benefit did mankind derive from their boasted institutions? Interrogate the shades of those who fell in the mighty contests between Athens and Lacedæmon, between Carthage and Rome, and between Rome and the rest of the universe. But see William Penn, with weaponless hand, sitting down peaceably with his followers in the midst of savage nations, whose only occupation was shedding the blood of their fellow-men, disarming them by his justice, and teaching them, for the first time, to view a stranger without distrust. See them bury their tomahawks, in his presence, so deep that man shall never be able to find them again. See them, under the shade of the thick groves of Coaquannock, extend the bright chain of friendship, and solemnly promise to preserve it as long as the sun and moon shall endure. See him then, with his companions, establishing his commonwealth on the sole basis of religion, morality and universal love, and adopting, as the fundamental maxim of his government, the rule handed down to us from heaven, Glory

to God on high, and on earth peace and good will to men. Here was a spectacle for the potentates of the earth to look upon, an example for them to imitate. But the potentates of the earth did not see, or, if they saw, they turned away their eyes from the sight; they did not hear, or, if they heard, they shut their ears against the voice which called out to them from the wilderness,

"Discite justitiam moniti, et non temnere Divos."

The character of William Penn alone sheds a never-fading lustre on our history.

Morbid Effects of Envy, Malice, and Hatred.—
RUSH.

ENVY is commonly the parent of malice and hatred. Of this vice it may be truly asserted, that it is deep-seated, and always painful; hence it has been said by an inspired writer to resemble "rottenness in the bones ;" and by Lord Bacon "to know no holydays." It is likewise a monopolizing vice. Alexander envied his successful generals, and Garrick was hostile to all the popular players of his day. It is moreover a parricide vice, for it not only emits its poison against its friends, but against the persons, who, by the favours it has conferred upon those who cherish it, have become in one respect the authors of their being; and, lastly, it possesses a polypus life. No kindness, gentleness or generosity can destroy it. On the contrary, it derives fresh strength from every act which it experiences of any of them. It likewise survives and often forgives the resentment it sometimes occasions, but without ceasing to hate the talents, virtues or personal endowments by which it was originally excited. Nor is it satiated by the apparent extinction of them in death. This is obvious from its so frequently opening the sanctuary of the grave, and robbing the possessors of those qualities of the slender remains it had left them of posthumous fame.

However devoid this vice and its offspring may be of remissions, they now and then appear in the form of parox.

ysms, which discover themselves in tremors, paleness and a suffusion of the face with red blood. The face in this case performs the vicarious office, which has lately been ascribed to the spleen. But their effects appear more frequently in slow fevers, and in a long train of nervous diseases. Persons affected with them seldom acknowledge their true cause. A single instance, only, of this candour, is mentioned by Dr. Tissot He tells us he was once consulted by a gentleman, who told him that all his complaints were brought on by his intense and habitual hatred of an enemy. Many of the chronic diseases of high life and of professional men, I have no doubt, are induced by the

same cause.

I once thought that medicine had not a single remedy in all its stores, that could subdue, or even palliate, the diseases induced by the baneful passions which have been described, and that an antidote to them was to be found only in religion; but I have since recollected one, and heard of another physical remedy, that will at least palliate them. The first is, frequent convivial society between persons who are hostile to each other. It never fails to soften resentments, and sometimes produces reconciliation and friendship. The reader will be surprised when I add that the second physical remedy was suggested to me by a madman in the Pennsylvania hospital. In conversing with him, he produced a large collection of papers, which he said contained his journal. "Here," said he, "I write down every thing that passes in my mind, and particularly malice and revenge. In recording the latter, I feel my mind emptied of something disagreeable to it, just as an emetic relieves the stomach of bile. When I look at what I have written a day or two afterwards, I feel ashamed and disgusted with it, and wish to throw it into the fire." I have no doubt of the utility of this remedy for envy, malice and hatred, from its salutary effects in a similar case. A gentleman in this city informed me, that, after writing an attack for the press upon a person who had offended him, he was so struck with its malignity upon reading it, that he instantly destroyed it. The French nobility sometimes cover the walls and ceiling of a room in their houses with looking glasses. The room thus furnished is called

a boudoir. Did ill-natured people imitate the practice of the madman and gentleman I have mentioned, by putting their envious, malicious and revengeful thoughts upon paper, it would form a mirror that would serve the same purpose of pointing out and remedying the evil dispositions of the mind, that the boudoir in France serves, in discovering and remedying the defects in the attitudes and dress of the body.

To persons who are not ashamed and disgusted with the first sight of their malevolent effusions upon paper, the same advice may be given that Dr. Franklin gave to a gentleman, who read part of a humorous satire which he had written upon the person and character of a respectable citizen of Philadelphia. After he had finished reading it, he asked the doctor what he thought of his publishing it. "Keep it by you," said the doctor, "for one year, and then ask me that question." The gentleman felt the force of this answer, went immediately to the printer who had composed the first page of it, took it from him, and consigned the whole manuscript to oblivion.

Appearance of the first Settlements of the Pilgrims. MISS SEDGWICK.

THE first settlers followed the course of the Indians, and planted themselves on the borders of rivers,—the natural gardens of the earth, where the soil is mellowed and enriched by the annual overflowing of the streams, and prepared by the unassisted processes of nature to yield to the indolent Indian his scanty supply of maize and other esculents. The wigwams which constituted the village, or, to use the graphic aboriginal designation, the "smoke," of the natives, gave place to the clumsy, but more convenient dwellings of the pilgrims.

Where there are now contiguous rows of shops, filled with the merchandise of the East, the manufactures of Europe, the rival fabrics of our own country, and the fruits of the tropics; where now stand the stately hall of justice, the academy, the bank, churches, orthodox and heretic, and

all the symbols of a rich and populous community,—were, at the early period of our history, a few log-houses planted around a fort, defended by a slight embankment and palisade.

The mansions of the proprietors were rather more spacious and artificial than those of their more humble associates, and were built on the well known model of the modest dwelling-house illustrated by the birth of Milton-a form still abounding in the eastern parts of Massachusetts, and presenting to the eye of a New Englander the familiar aspect of an awkward, friendly country cousin.

The first clearing was limited to the plain. The beautiful hill, that is now the residence of the gentry, (for there yet lives such a class in the heart of our democratic community,) and is embellished with stately edifices and expensive pleasure-grounds, was then the border of a dense forest, and so richly fringed with the original growth of trees, that scarce a sunbeam had penetrated to the parent earth.

Mr. Fletcher was at first welcomed as an important acquisition to the infant establishment, but he soon proved that he purposed to take no part in its concerns, and, in spite of the remonstrances of the proprietors, he fixed his residence a mile from the village, deeming exposure to the incursions of the savages very slight, and the surveillance of an inquiring neighbourhood a certain evil. His domain extended from a gentle eminence, that commanded an extensive view of the bountiful Connecticut to the shore, where the river indented the meadow by one of those sweeping, graceful curves, by which it seems to delight to beautify the land it nourishes.

The border of the river was fringed with all the waterloving trees; but the broad meadows were quite cleared, excepting that a few elms and sycamores had been spared by the Indians, and consecrated by tradition, as the scene of revels or councils. The house of our pilgrim was a low-roofed, modest structure, containing ample accommodation for a patriarchal family; where children, dependents and servants were all to be sheltered under one rooftree. On one side, as we have described, lay an open and extensive plain; within view was the curling smoke from

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