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the miser. From Mr Sprague's Poem, before the Society of ihc Phi Beta Kappa, at Cam- The churlj who holds it heresy to think, _ , Who loves no music but the dollar Who laughs to scorn the wisdom of the schools, , And deems the first poets first ol 100 s, AVho never founu what good liom seienee grew, Save [he grand truth, that one and one are two, And marvels Bowditch o'er a boo* should pore, Unless to make these two turn into four; Who, placed where Catskill's forehead greets the sky, 4 Grieves that such quarries all unhewn should lie; Or, gazing where Niagara's torrents thrill, Exclaims, 'A monstrous stream, to turn a mill;' Who loves to feel the blessed winds of Heaven, But as his freighted barks areportward driven: Even he, across whose brain scarce dares to creep Aught but thrift's parent pair—to get, to keep, Who never learned life's real bliss to know— Go, seek him out.on you dear Gotham s walk, "Where traffic's venturers meet to trade and talk, Where Mammon's votaries bend, of each degree. The hard-eyed lender, and the pale len dee, Where rogues insolvent strut in white washed pride. shove the dupes who trusted them a side. * How* thro' the buzzing crowd he threads his way, To catch the flying rumors of the day; To learn of changing stocks, of bargains . cross'd, Of breaking merchants, and of canoes lost; . „ . The thousand ills that traflic's vva.ks in vade, ind give the heart-ache to the sons o! trale. How cold he hearkens to some bankrupts WO, 1 , Kods his wise head, and cries, * I tola you so; ... "The thriftless fellow lived beyond his means, <*He must buy brants—I make my loltts cat beans;?' What cares he f>r the knave, the knave s sad wife, The blighted prospects of an anxious lile. The kindly throbs that other men con trol, Ne'er melt the iron of a miser's soul; Thro' life's dark road his sordid way he Wends, An incarnation of fat dividends; 38\it when to death he sinks, ungriev'a, unsung. BuoyJ by the blessing of no mortal tongue; No worth rewarded and no war.t rearess -ir To scatter fragrance round his ol rest. What shall the hallowed epitaph sup ply— The universal wo when good men die! Cold curiosity shall linger there, To the wealth he leaves his tearless heir; Perchance to wonder what must be his doom In the fair land that li"s beyond the tomb. Aiasl'for him, if, in its awful plan, Heaven deal with him as he hath dealt with man. ROOM FOR THE PROUD. Room for the prond! ye sons of clay; From far his sweeping pomp survey, Jijr rashly curious, clog the way, ■His chariot wheels befoie! Lot with what scorn his lofty eye Glancfts o'er age an 1 poverty, And bid? intruding conscience fly Far from his palace door! Room for the Proud! But slow ihe.'eet That bear his coffin down the street, Anil dismal seem* his winding sheet Who purple lately wore. Ah! where shall now his spirit fly, In naked, trembling agony? Or how shall he'for mercy cry, Who show'd it not before? Heber MtN CELLAR ffiOt'S. From the New York Journal of Com- merce. DISCOURSES TO THE YOUNG Messrs. Editors:—l trust you will have no objection, through the medium ofyour paper, to diffuse more extensively the information that a number of the clergy of the city have associated to deliver a series .of dis courses to the young: and that one is given every Sabbath evening, in the South Dutcn Church, Exchange place. Two have already been de livered, and have been heard with great satisfaction by very numerous CHEROKEE PHOENIX AND INDIANS' ADVOCATE* audiences, liut while these discours es are primarily designed tor young men, care has not been taken that this class of hearers should be provided lor i;i the occupancy ol the church. It is believed that last Saboath evening, one third, if not one half, of the young men who came there, did j not gain admission at all; and ot those that did enter, few were able to se- j cure and retain seats. For, although many obtained them at first, they were soon obliged to leave them and : give place to ladies, who, together i with persons of middle, and even old j age, ultimately composed a large por- j tion of the congregation, and thus the young men were left to retire from the church, or stand in the aisleS. I would by no means, however, ap probate impoliteness, either in feel ing or action; but, if the discourses are chiefly intended for persons of a particular class, that class should have a preference of accommodation, or the object is unattained. Iu this view, Would it not be advisable .to reserve the square of the church for young men exclusively, and that oth ers should be permitted to occupy the wall pews only, and the gallery? I earnestly recommend the subject to the consideration of those who have the regulation of it, and hope they will not diminish, by any over sight in arrangement, the great good which these lectures are calculated to produce. A Father. Messrs. Editors:--I was not a little surprised this morning, on takilig up your paper, to find that the regu lations of the South Dutch Church during the evenings it is ap|<»opi iated for the purpose of delivering "Dis courses to the Young,,' should be treated as it has been by VA Father." When it was announced from the desk, a week or two previoni to the first lecture, at what time they were to commence, it was also stated, that althongh they were intended especial ly/or the yonng, yet the old aud the I middle aged were by no urea is to be | excluded; but oti the contrary were ! earnestly solicited to attend. And why? "Beeaus*;" said tbe Ilev. and respected Pastor of the Church, the aged aud the middle ajed, the father and the mother, should 110 less be acquainted with the ait of govern ing, than the young should know how to be governed.'" This is the reason, I presume, Messrs: Editors, why we find so ma ny of the aged and the middle aged attending these lectures; and so far as I can see, it is not only consistent for them to attend as parents, but a duty which they owe to their children and to society. As it respects the la dies, whom it appears "A Father" has particularly alluded to, I really know not in what manner to speak.— Indeed, gentlemen, 1 cannot think that a Father ercr committed such an opinion to a paper. What! have the square of the church filled with young men, and the ladies crammed away in the gallery or in the side pews and corners of the church! No, no. Civilized society has ever dis countenanced such a course; and I hope for the honor ef our nature, ever will. If the young are to he particu larly favoured with these lectures, let the ladies, the middle aged and the aged, be -excluded altogether.— For what do you suppose would be the feelings, (without asking where his gallantry would bfc,)of a young man after attending a mother, a sister, or, I will go farther and say, the object of all his earthly hopes and wishes, to the church door, to be compelled to consign her or them to the gallery, a wall pew, or a stand in one of the aisles! I would request "A Father" to reflect 011 this subject—to call to mind the days of youth, and ask him s°lf what his opinion would have been when he was— A YOUNG MAN. SELF EDUCATION. Among ill" memoirs of self c jucat- j ed incn in The Library of Entertaining Knowledge, the notice of Thomas Simpson, the celebrated mathemati cian, is peculiarly striking; and the following is a fitting sequel;—"We have remarked that the book frotn which Simpson acquired his first knowledge of fluxions was a work by Edmund Stone. Stone affords us an other instance of a self-educated mathmalician. Neither the place nor time of his birth is exactly knotvn; but he was probably a native of Ar eyleshire, and born a few years before the close of the seventeenth century. He is spokan of as hav ing reached an | advanced age in 17C0, and he died in ! 1768. The only account we have of his early lite is a letter which is to be found prefixed to a French trans lation of one of his works, from his contemporary, the Chevalier Ramsay, who knew him. His father, Ramsay tells us. was a gardener to the Duke «>f Argyle, who, walking one day in his Garden, observed a Latin copy ol Newton's 'Prineipia' lying 011 the grass; and thinking it had been brought from his own library, called some one to carry it back to its place. 'Upon | this' the narrative proceeds, Stone, j who was then in his 18th year, claim ed the book as his own. "•Yours?" I replied the Duke?' 'do yqu understand j Geometry, Latin, and Newton?' 'I I know a little of them,' replied the ! young man. The Duke was much ! surprised, and having a taste for sci ences, he entered into conversation with the young mathematician. He asked him several questions, and he was astonished at the force, the accu racy, and the candour of bis'answers. 'But how' said the Duke, 'came you j by the knowledge of all these things?" Stone replied, 'A servant taught me tefi years siiice to read. Does one need to know any thing more than the 24 letters, in order to learn every thing else that one wishes?' The Duke's curiosity redeubled, he sat down on the bank, and requested a detail of the whole process by which he had become so learned. •'I first learned to read,' said Stone; 'the ma sons were then at work upon your house. I approached them one day, and observed that the architect used a rule and compasses, and that he made calculations. I inquired what I might be the meaning and use of these | things, and 1 was informed that there wes a science called arithmetic. 1 purchased a book of arithmetic, and learned it. I was told there was an -1 otter science called geometry; 1 bought the necessary books', and I ! learned geometry. By reading, I found that there were good books in these two sciences in Latin; I bought • a dictionary and learned Latin. I un derstood. a!#6, that there were good books of the same kind in French; 1 bought a dictionary, and I learned French. And this, my lord, is what I have done; it seems to me that we may learn every thing, when we know the twenty-four letters of the alpha bet.'"' EXTRACT. Show rae a man who is most care fully doing all the duties which the Bible requires of hi in, and with the spirit it requires, and 1 wish not to in quire what he believes. I want no other evidence of his genuine faith, than his benevolent and devoted heart; his consistent and active life. Fo; only genuine faith could thus purify his affections, ond enable him to over come the world, —and exercise so transforming an influence upon his whole character. Oil the other hand shew me a man who lues for the world supremely; who regards the things which are his own, exclusive ly; who is selfish and worldly in all his conversation and deportment, manifesting no concern for his own immortal interests, nor for those of his fellow men, and I have evidence tnoueh of his unbelief, —of his en tire destitution of that faith which is essential to salvation. Whatever he professes (o believe, whatever creeds lie may bring forward and advocate as his own, and as w hat he views as in dispensable to his eternal well being: his conduct is demonstration that he is an unbeliever. —He has no faith, because there is nothing within flint works by love, and purifies the heart and overcomes the ivorld. MORAL roURAGfK OF DRINK ING. Wo sometimes hear (he advocates for drinking profess that they arc not afraid to drink; and even boss-ting of their courage in this matter. And I think there is at least some show of reason in their Coasting. !s (here not a good deal of moral courage in drink ing? !. It has been made abundantly manifest that every drinker is. uncon ! sciously peihaps, but inevitably, cher ishing an appetite for liquor, which "grows by what it feeds on," and that no drinker is aware of the power al ready gained by this appetite. Nor can he tell how soon his insidious ene my shall get the mastery over reason, conscience, affection, and the sense of a hereafter. Look now at the condition of a man who has become the slave of strong drink; mark his downward course, from one degradation to another; see him consumed by slow tires; stand by him in a fit oidtlirixim tremens; vis it him at the almshouse; come to his dying bed, as his soul shrieks away to stand before God, the soul of a drunk ard! What hazards are these! Does it not require some nerve for a man to drink? 2. Again, it is plain that every so- j ber drinker lends the countenance of j his example to ail drinking; and that j his practices may reasonably be ex- j pectedtohave an influence upon his] friends, his associates, Ids children. Instances are frequently brought j forward, of sons Carried to a prenia-) ture grave, by drunkenness, which j they first learned at the table of a so-' ber father; so that it has become a matter of established conviction to the minds of those who have turned their attention to the subject, that every sober drinker, who is a father, may safely calculate upon ruining some son or grandson by his example. Let any father look at the son, who is the pride of his strength, and the joy of his heart; and then in imagina tion, follow that son through all the successive scenes, until in his grey hairs he lays him in the drunkard's grave. And then let him say, if the man who can brave this csnr.ot brave i any thing. 3. Since this subject has been so ; set before the community, that it has begun to be understood, there is pro duced among the strictly temperate, a general horror ofstrong drink. No reflecting person can drink in the presence of another, without feel ing that he is observed; and observed too, with strong feelings of mingled commiseration and disgust. And these feelings are excited too, not merely in the minds of a few bigots,but among a vast many of the most judi cious and considerate portions of the community: persons who, after they have once imbibed such a course of feelings, will not easily forget them. When a man makes up his mind to outrage all these feelings, and *.o stand forth in the iharacter of a drink er, he must feel that he makes no small sacrifice, and that he gives up the respect of a portion of his fellow men, whose respect, if it could be fairly preserved, would be of value. And doe? it not require a strong reso lution, for a man to breast this current Df public opinion, and drink away, rigid >r wron <*? For my part the ease appears to me so stronsr, that whenever I see an Intelligent man drinking liquor, I am rresislibly impressed with this eon .iction. He is animated, either by a cry high moral courage, or a very un ;onquerable appetite for strong drinlc - JV. ?. oba. [fronithc Christian A MAN IN TROUBLE. Mr. J , I am an elder of Hie Presbyterian Church, and may say without the fear of the imputation of Canity, that I am respected in my of fice. But some late occurrences in this congregation have placed trie in a very unpleasant situation. A Tem perance Society has lately been formed here, and a large proportion of the congregation have agreed to ab- ] stain from spirituous liquors. From he coaiicencsment of the business I (■fused to join the Society; because I lad my don!>ts whether it would do iny good. And in this place sir, I nust confess that 1 am in the habit of a king a liltlo spirits, now and then. Besides, it would be hard to require a nan of my age, to deny himself such nil indulgence. 1 am afraid my health ivould suffer, should I abandon it. I'll us sir, though my first objection o tlie Society has vanished, and 1 ;annot doubt thaf it is doing much »ood, yet I cannot belong to it, and '.i Lid myself placed in a most awkward ind painjul predicament. I can fit i :hrr supper! the Temperance refornia :ou nor oppose it: nor even s'.and neu ral. If I support the reformation, its "riends will exclaim, no hairing of lie matter, u let s i>o for the whole;" \nd its enemies will say 'Physician, leal thyself.' If 1 oppose reform, I am putting myself with drunkards, and will ruin my character. And if 1 stand neutral, if I refuse to lend my aid against this vice, my conscience will trouble me; and be sides, the remark will be in every body's mouth, that non-professors of religion are more zealous in the cause of righteousness, tliaa members of the church. Sometimes I get sore rubs in your' paper, and feel almost determined to throw it up, and free myself from a tormentor; but then conscience tells me, if the use of ardent spirits is wrong, 1 ought to know it; i! 1 shut my eyes against the light, and indulge myself without restraint, I would not free myself from the guilt of sinful indulgence. And 1 am afraid too, that some of my neighbors, who? know 1 take a little, will suspect thai I quit the paper, because I had to" read pieces that gave me trouble, and 1 will be considered a mail wlicr deprived my family of a religious pa pers and of usejvl instruction, that I might gratify my appetite by taking a little. Whenever I bear the subject of Temperance touched upon, either in the pulpit, or in private conversa tion, I feel a kind of instinctive vppesi tion within me, which it requires an effort to suppress. But there is an other thing, 1 will mention. Though I am convinced that the practice of treating with spirits is producing a habit, which eternally destroys the im mortal s'iuU yet, if I refuse to treat my friends or my laborers, they will say, 'lie wants all his liquor to drink himself.' Thus sir, you see I am surrounded with the most painful difficulties, and if you, or your correspondents, will assist me in extricating myself, you will be entitled to the thanks of Simon Take-a-Little. To the Learned.—Conversing lately with a distiller of whiskey, argued in favour of his business, that the grain from which the spirit is extracted will afford as much nourishment to swine, as if given to them in its natural state; so that the spirit must be con sidered as a clear gain to the world. The question naturally arose, if this spirit, before it was extracted, could not nourish swine, how can it give nourishment to men, in its separate state, or as taken from the bottle? The whiskey-maker said he did not know, neither did 1 know. I propose the query to those, who have leisuro end skill to investigate such matters. If it should be thought that the spirit, in its separate state, possesses nourishing qualities, which it has not while in the grain or meal, it may be worth while for distillers to try the experiment of pouring it back into their swill, for the liogs. Perhaps one bushel of grain, which has been thue medicated in one of "the devil's tea kettles," may have as much virtue in it, as two or three, used in the ordi nary way. Take care, however, that there be no steep place, over which they may run down into the sea.— Vtr Chrcn. It is a remarkable fact, that let a pa rent be ever so regardless of truth and justice, or ever so devoted to sensual pleasures, stiil he would not have his children adopt Lis principles, or copy hi* example. No; lie would dread (his as a most serious evil, and would rejoicstobe assured of the stability of their monjl principles. Is this uot a sure evidence thai, however men may seem devoted to the world, they never theless fear it like an insincere and (reacheiouS friend? They know how deceptive are its offered pleasures, & experience has taught them the un satisfying nature of its pursuits; and al though they Have not themselves the resolution to break from tbem, they cannot endure the thought that those whom they love should in like manner be enslaved to vanity. We could not have a stronger argument to prove the temporal value of a religious education. "I suppose, "said a quack while feeling (he pulse of his patient, " that you think me a fool." " Sir," repttecT the sick man, " 1 perceive yon can discover a man's thoughts by his pulse." Pride.—lf a proud man makes me keep nv distance, the comfort is he keep his at the same time. Dr. Swift. Drunk.—ft is an honor to their (the Spaniards) laws, that a man loses his testimony who can be provjrtl once to have been drunk.—Sir ff'm. Tem le't Works. Drink. —Rarely drink but when thou artfdry; the smaller the drink the clear er the head, and the cooler the blcod, which are preat benefits in temper and I business.— ff m. Penn's Work*.