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THE VOICE OF FREEDOM
P 0 E T II Y From the Boston Atlas. THE GAG. Ho! children of the Granite hills, That bristle with the hacmataek, And sparkle with the chryslal rills That hurry toward the Merrimack, Dam up those rills! for, while they run, They til rebuke your Atherton. Dsm up those rills! they flow so free O'er icy slope and beetling crag, That, soon, they'll all be oll'at sea, Beyond the reach of Charlie's gag; And, when those waters are the sea's, They'll speak and thunder as they please. Then freeze them stiff! But let there come No winds to chain them; should they blow, They'll speak of freedom! Let the dumb And breathless frost forbid their flow; Then, all will be so hush'd and mum, Ye'll think your Atherton has come. Not he! "Of all the airs that blow" He dearly loves the soft South-West, That tells where rice and cotton grow, And man is, like "the Patriarchs," blest (So say some eloquent divines!) With slaves also with concubines. Let not the winds go thus, at large, That now o'er all your hills career Your Sunapee and Kearsarge Nay, nay, methinks the bounding deer, That, like the winds, sweep o'er each hill, Should all be gagged, to keep them still. And all your big and little brooks, That rush down, laughing, toward the sea, Your Lampreys, Squams and Contoocooks, That show a spirit to be free, Should learn, they're not to lake such airs: Your mouths are stopped; then why not theirs? Plug every spring that dares to ploy At bubble in its gravel cup, Or babble, as it runs away Nay, catch and coop your Eagles up! It is not fit that they should fly, And scream of freedom, through your sly. Ye've not done yet! Your very trees Those sturdy pines, their heads that wag In concert with the mountain breeze Unless they're silenced by a gag, Will whisper "We will stand our ground! Our heads are up! Our hearts are sound!" Sons of the granite hills, your birds, Your winds, your waters and your trees, Of power and freedom speak, in words That should be felt in times like these. Their voice comes to you from the sky ! In them God spea':s of Liberty. Sons of the granite lulls, awake! Ye're on a mighty stream afloat, With all your liberties at stake A faithless pilot's on your boat, And, while ye've lain asleep, ye're snagged! Nor can ye cry for help ye're gagged!! MISCELLANEOUS From the New York Observer. MR. BUCKINGHAM'S LECTURES. THIRD LECTURE ON PALESTINE. I am now, in conclusion, to speak of those two most interesting monuments, the tomb of (Jhnst and the rock of Calvary. I will begin with the latter. Calvary. It has of late and but of lafe, been made a ques tion, whether the rock so denominated in Jerusa lem, be indeed the actual spot where Christ was crucified. I do not quarrel with the severity of criticism, let it be made as severe as it will. Chris tianity invites examination, and glories in scruti ny. But, having for myself personally examined the locality, my conviction of its being the true and authentic theatre of that tragedy, is as strong as of my existence. Jews, Mahomedans, and Christians, who are residents of the city, agree with one voice that this was the place. Those who deny and those who receive the Messiahship of, Jesus, all admit that this is the spot where he died. 1 conless that when 1 first saw the place, -1 was myself somewhat disappointed, on finding that it did not agree with my previous conceptions ; but farther scrutiny convinced me that these concep tions were themselves erroneous. We are always, you know, in the habit of forming an imaginary picture of objects which we have never seen. We often do it unconsciously, and only discover the mistake when we come to see the original. I had always supposed that Calvary was a high hill. 1 had always heard it called "Mount Cat vary," and I had seen the pictures of the ancient masters, where it is always so delineated. fco nn pressed was my mind with the notion, that nothing could remove it, but an actual inspection of th place itself. I found no mountain, and felt some uneasiness, until I turned to review the scriptures which describe the place, and then, for the first time observed that there was no " Mount Calvary' in the Bible. The supposition is altogether gra tuitous ; and it seems strange that it should have become so universal. The gospels speak of the spot as " the place of Calvary," or " the place of a skull," or " the place that was called Golgotha." Matthew is the most particular. He says it was " a place called Golgotha, that is to say, a place of a skull. Mark uses nearly the same words " the place Golgotha, which is, being interpreted, the place of a skull." Luke simply says, " lhey came to a place which is called Calvary. John words are, "And he, bearing his cross, went forth into a place called the place of a skull, which is II 1 .1 TT 1 y, I .1 M TT 1 1 .1 cauea in me neorew, uoigotna. ne aaus tne place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the City." Here 13 no mention made ot any moun tain or hill. It is simply called "a place." It was denominated "the place of a skull," not as has been supposed, because it was a place of common execution, and the skulls of malefactors were sup posed to lie about upon the ground, a thing en tirely repugnant to the habits and the ieehngs o! the Jewish people ; but because the spot consists of a nodule of rock somewhat resembling, m Us gen eral outline, the shape of a human skull. In fact, if you omit the supplementary words in italics in the description by John, the passage reads, " he went torth into a place called ol a skull; which expresses the very idea I wish to convey. There Is no reason to believe that any execution had ev er been held there. On the contrary, it is proba ble that the high priests, thirsting as they did for Christ's blood, and having at length wrung from Pilate a reluctant assent to his crucifixion, seized, n their murderous haste, upon tho nearest spot which afforded the means of executing thoir hell ish purposes. John says, " he went forth (that is, forth of the Judgment Hall) into a place called of a skull," which seems to intimate that the one was not far distant from the other. The spot is a naked rock, from four to five hundred feet broad at its base, and not over twenty-five feet in per pendicular elevation : but, as it rises in an ob lique direction, its height does not appear to be more than from fifteen to twenty feet. Who can, with nrnnrirtv. rlfMinminnte that a mountain ? On the summit are excavations, into which the foot of the cross, and also the crosses of the thieves, were inserted. Some such device must have been em ployed to fix the crosses in an erect position : and It ; nnt iinnrnbable that by means of wedges, these oV,rot;,,ri were availed of for that purpose. Of the evidences of the crucifixion, some were tem porarv and evanescent ; such, for example, as the o-en eral darkness. We have, indeed, the authen tic testimony of those who witnessed it ; but the thing itself was transient. The rending of the veil of the temple was another event, the proof of which remained longer, probably till the destruc tion of the temple by the Romans ; yet that also has long since passed away. But there was one witness, whose voice has continued to speak from age to age. Ihe Bible declares that when Christ expired, " the rocks rent :" and to this day, near the base of the rock 1 have described, are hssures in the rock, broken and ragged in their surface, and slightly diminishing as they go inward, re resembling nothing artificial, but on the contrary, exactly resembling such ruptures as are the effect of earthquakes elsewhere. This much for the place Calvary, a spot which naturally attracts and concentrates the intense curiosity and interest of the Christian world. From hence to The Sepulchre. The distance is short ; and this, too, has been urged as a grand object to the authenticity of its alledged position ; it having been profoundly sug gested that the pretended spots have been brought near to each other, with a view to the greater ac commodation of visitors, an imputation as un worthy as it is unfounded in truth. On this point 1 pursued the same rule as in relation to the other, having resolved to search the Scriptures for my self. Nor have we need of any other guide. On comparing the two spots with the Scriptural record, I found every thing perfectly harmonious. It is true, the Evangelists in speaking of the position of the sepulchre, do not all employ the self-same words. If they had, it might have been suspected that they copied from each other. Each describes it independently for himself. John speaks thus : " Now in the place wher he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man vet laid. There laid they Jesus, therefore, because of the Jews' preparation day ; for the sepulchre was nigh at hand." They carried the body there lecavse it was near. In this brief description, there is the clear indication of three things ; first, that the tomb was hewn out of a rock : secondly, that it was new. and probably unfinished; and third, that was nidi to the place of crucifixion. " Nigh," is a word of very inde terminate signification, and its meaninir must be judged by the circumstances in which it is used and the subject to which it is applied. The plan ets are comparatively nigh to the sun, though at the distance of millions of miles from that lumina ry. Comets are sometimes said to pass nigh to the earth. England is nigh to France ; and in a building like this, the speaker mav be said to be nigh to the hearer; yet if a single" individual on returning home should be asked by his friends, " were you nigh to Mr. Buckingham ?" he might very properly say "No;" especially if his seat were near the door. The word, therefore, must be judged from the thing spoken of. And what are the things here spoken of? The death of the Saviour, and his interment; and if a man were now interred within a hundred yards of the spot where he died, would you not say that the place of his sepulcher was " nigh at hand.?" Certainly you would ; and such is precisely the fact in rela Hon to the sepulchre ol Christ. Joseph of An mathea, a wealthy Israelite, had been getting i tomb made for himself. It had never been occu pied, and probably not quite finished ; and he- cave it freely as a place for the reception of Christ's body. That sepulchre is still to be seen It is "hewn out of the rock." It is a chamber. excavated out of a mass of surrounding stone, and in it there is a sarcophagus. It is very true that the Empress Helena, in her zeal, very unadvisedly made alterations and additions; but she never dis turbed either cavern or the sarcophagus. And in the latter there still remains a proof that it never was completely hnished ; for, in one of its angles there is a part of the stone which protrudes be yond the proper line, and has not been cut awaj by the chisel. Can any thing be more natural than that the feeling of deep and indescribable ven eration associated with such an event should ex tend itself to the material substance of everything around ; and that those who had the control of th place, should say to all who would interfere with it, " i'orbear! Let this stone be preserved as it stands. No tool of man shall approach it. To alter it in the slightest degree, would be but profanation." I appeal to every man who hears me, whether there is not a feeling within his own bosom which responds to such language, and wheth er the present state of the tomb is not just what we might expect it to be ! And now, satisfactory as are these evidences in the localities themselves, both of the cross and of the tomb, if they were not so, and we had noth ing to confirm the voice of tradition m the matter, what is more natural than that the spot where two such events took place should be scarcely preserv ed by a local tradition ? In England, every boy in the neighborhood can show you the spot where Cajsar landed ; the most ignorant farmer of the vicinity will lead you to the field where the battle of Hastings was fought, and show you the spot where the unfortunate William Rufus was shot by Tyrrel. Much more is it supposed, that the mem ory of the spot where Jesus died and where he was buried, could never perish out of Jerusalem. Prejudice. Much is said about innocent prejudices, and about the impropriety of shocking the prejudices of mankind; and yet what is a prejudice? how would you describe it? Is not a prejudice a feel ing for jvhich we cannot give a satisfactory rea son, or for which we are ashamed to give any rea son f Are not prejudices unphilosophical, and should a rational mind indulge them ? Are not prejudices unchristian, and should not a Christian perseveringly overcome them as marks of pecu liar delicacy and refinement ? Let such remember that it was preiudice which prevented the Jews from receiving the Messiah, when in the fullness of time he made his appear- ance among them, that it was prejudice wnicn nailed him to the cross; that prejudice led Israel to reject the gospel preached by the Apostles ; that it is the veil of prejudice which still blinds her eyes and leads her yet to reject all the combined evidence of miracle, testimony, and prophecy ; that prejudice has retarded the progress of improve ment in Europe, and kept millions of our fellow creatures enchained by ignorance and supersti tion j that it is prejudice now which causes the Hindoo to turn from the light of science and the truth of revelation, and to cleave to the absurdities and the idolatry of his ancestors. And while pre judice is acknowledged the strongest bulwark of tyranny in the old world, is America, our own en lightened, cherished home, free from its baleful influence ? It was a sunny spring afternoon, when the steamboat left the wharf at New York. The deck was crowded with passengers. The gay who were escaping from the summer heat, and the close and stifling air tf the city, to the purer breezes, yet scarcely less dissipated society, of the fashionable watering-place. The men of business who are at all seasons going to and returning from that crowded Mart ; the busy artizan, the restless speculator, and the not always thoughtful student, were there crowded together. And on that deck, although not mingled with the crowd, was another : a man just entered upon life s busy and stirring scenes, a man who in herited from his Maker a mind of high and nob powers; a graduate of one our first colleges ; student in and licentiate of our oldest theological seminary; an ordained clergyman in one of ou most numerous and influential denominations That man had a mind enrinched by all the stores of ancient literature, and modern science; and heart replete with Christian piety and benevolence, And of the busy crowd who shunned him, not one perhaps was there who surpassed, if one who equalled him in moral worth or intellectual attain ment. Yet that man was guilty of a ' skin not colored like our own, and shrunk from those around him because he felt that he was considered as a nuis ance, and they regarded him with cold and super cilious pride, or with bitter and sneering contempt Yet he was not alone. His young wife wa accompanying him to his father's dwelling ; and as he leaned over her, although he might have known and felt that his presence could not secure her from insult, he might have forgptten, in the pure and holy affection which had United them and which the Author of our being has sgraciou ly implanted to sweeten the sorrows, and heighten the joys of this life, the contempt and obloquy which was poured upon them ; and as the boa passed on, they might have watched the beautiful scenery and the gorgeous and splendid sunset with feelings ol almost unalloyed pleasure. But the last streaks of day-light were disappear ing : the dark clouds were gathering, ana every thing betokened a violent storm. The supper be had rung; the last group had left the deck; th lights ;ero streaming from the cabin windows, and casting their gleams over the dark waters ; and the lightenings were flashing across the heavens wrapping it in sheets of flame, and followed by loud and deafening peals of thunder. The wife drew nearer to her husband, and he wrapped her in his mantle, and sheltered her with his umbrella but neither of them spake. Were they then mus ing upon the nature ol prejudice ; The rain descended in torrents. The umbrell was but a conductor ; it was cast aside, and they were both drenched as if they had stood beneat. a cataract. The husband says, 1 you cannot en dure this : 1 must try to hnd some shelter for you He sought the captain ot the boat, and foun him in his dry and comfortable quarters. .'My wile is in feeble health ; she is drenched with th rain. Cannot you, sir, persuade the ladies to ad mit her into their cabin that she may be sheltered during the storm ? ' No !' was the coarse and harsh reply. No the ladies want no negroes there.' During the dark and stormy night, that husband and wile sat together, unsheltered and unpitied upon the deck, lhey might have had their bit ter thoughts in view ot their own state, lhey must have felt deep and heavy anguish as they remembered that this was but the common treat ment of their race. And when they gazed upon the bright cabin windows, and thought of the fe males who were there reclining upon couches of down, or sofas of damask, or perhaps weeping over the tale of imaginary woe ; and then thought of the contrast, thought of their own state, and that prejudice thus exposed them ; think you that these unsheltered outcasts felt disposed to extern ate the guilt ot harboring it I 1 o view it as amia ble, as innocent, as justifiable ? Did they then think of the European traveller who was found by the Alncan woman, when ' weary, sad, and faint was he,' and taken to her hut, and warmed, and cherished ? And then com pare Christian-prejudice in America with barbarous heathen Asia ! The morning dawned and found that husband and wife benumbed, chilled, faint from fasting, and exhausted from watching. And when they were anded in another ol our busy cities, did any of the females, who again flocked upon the deck, pause to look upon that suffering woman, and to reflect that their prejudices had exposed her to a night of storm, had sown in her frame the seeds al death ( The constitution of the wife could not endure the exposure. The husband recovered from the illness which ensued, but it was only to watch her declining health, and to follow her to an early 1 1 .1 I 11.. crave. Ana among tne many sad ana outer thoughts which crowded upon his mind, as he re called his blighted hopes, his disappointed expec tations, not one was more agonizing than this, to use his own expression, that it was prejudice which murdered his wife. From the Sailor's Magazine. A Fight with an Anaconda Serpent. The following account of a recent perilous con flict of a missionary in Bengal with an Anacon da of Calcutta inserted in the Chronicle of the London Missionary Society. We understand that the skin of this formidable animal, which , was killed on this occasion, thas been sent to London, and is now deposited in the Museum of the Lon don Missionary Society, Bloomfield street, Fins-bury. r or three successive years, in the months of ebruary and October, Bengal was visited by hurricanes from the S. E., which were attended with consequences the most lamentable. The sea rose upwards of twenty feet above its usual level ; the banks, which confine the' rivers Koopnarian and Bummodah, gave way, and the inundations which followed carried destruction through the whole of the south and south-eastern parts of Bengal. Upwards of twenty thousand lives were lost, and the cattle, crops, houses, and stores, were all washed away. The country being a low plain, the tops of the houses were crowded with the suf ferers, while the water continued to rise, mocking all the efforts made to escape, and the buildings and people fell and perished together. The inundation was so great that all the ani mals of the forest wcre,for a time, driven from their accustomed haunts, and forced to seek se curity in trees or elevated spots of ground. The serpent, whose skin I have sent, was probably, from this cause, driven from the Soonderbunds, and found its way to the missionary station to Kristnapore, which is situated on the north-western edge of those dreary forests. The master fo the mission school resided in a small native house adjoining the chapel compound; but, on account of the effects of inundation, which in a degree, had reached that comparatively elevated spot, did not sleep in his own house, but spread his mat in the verandah of the chapel. Early the next morning before it was light, he went into the house to procure some rice for his morning meal, and knowing exactly where to find it, he extend ed his arm towards the spot, and placed his hand on a large cold and slimy body. Horror-struck, he instantly retreated, and called loudly for help, declaring that some mrito daiok jontoo, "death giving animal," had taken possession of his house. Lights having been procured, the serpent was discovered coiled up and fast asleep. With long bamboes the people soon disturbed its slum bers, and inflicted a severe wound on the under side of its body. Erecting itself, and rapidly dar ting forward, it dispersed its adversaries ; and though many attacks were made, it kept posses sion of the house for a considerable time. At length a rope with a noose was thrown in, and caught the animal by the neck, when it was drag' ged forth and fastened to a tree. I tbeing the day on which i usually visited the village, accompah led by brother L., I repaired to the place, and found the serpent considerably injured by the blows it had received. Imagining that it was nearly dead, we loosened the noose, and dragged the creatute into the middle of the compound where for a little while we left it, whilst we went into the chapel to make arrangements for the ser vices of the day, when, to our surprise, by the cries of the people, we found it was making its escape. Hastening to the spot, we observed that it was only prevented from entirely effectiug its purpose by the rope entering the wound on the under side of its body, before alluded to. Mr. L immediately seized the rope, and tightened the noose, which, irritated the animal, it reared its body, and, with widely extended jaws, darted at our brother, in a most frightful manner. Mr. L however, by his activity, eluded the attacks of the animal ; and, though pursued around the corn- pound, kept possession of the rope until another noose was thrown over its head ; and the re-captured animal was hung up on one of the pillars which support the roof of the chapel, and was there killed. It was apparently a young serpent, and not more than half the size to which it would have obtained in a few years. It was 18 feet long, and 22 inches in circumferance. It could have swallowed a kid or child with great ease. benevo the iii' out the The Conservative Treacher. BY REV. LEONARD BACON. Beside these, there is the conservative preacher, equally cut off from healthful sympathy with the people. I call him "conservative," not because he has any particular right to be so called, but be cause he chooses that name as a name of honor. Need I describe him to you ? He is a man who has found out that whatever looks like progress, in these days, is, on the whole, only a progress from bad to worse. He sees only the dark side of every thing that is, and the bright side of eve ry thing that was. He refers all things to the standard of the good old times belore the begin ning of this disastrous nineteenth century. He is panic-struck with the innovations that he sees, and stilt more with those ol which he has no in formation but by common fame. Tell him of the religious awakenings and revivals with which God visits the churches and he groans over the "machinery," and the "animal excitement, and the "new measures ;" all which are, as he thinks, peculiar to these times. Speak to him of the movements and enterprizes of associated lence, which are filling our country with stitutions of Christianity, and sending gospel to the ends of the earth, and you touch upon another of his fears ; not that he would ex press any disapprobation of efforts for the propa galion of Christianity if they are only properly conducted ; but he lears what these organizations will grow to : he fears that thev are constructed on a wrong principle, and that they tend to pro mote the designs of innovators. He does not like to hear this perpetual talking about responsi bility. His soul thirsts for those old quiet days, when there were no societies for the conversion of the world, no theologiccl seminaries, no sabbath-school libraries, no religious newspapers and no religious news and when every man was al- owed to smoke his pipe in-peace, and mind his own business. All the agitations of the ace a- armhim,asif the earth were moved out of its place. The improvements in science, in com merce, in the arts, which are so fast revolutioniz ing the world, and bringing all nations into mu tual contact and dependence, help to alarm him To him, the glorious experiment of popular gov eminent in this country, and ol a lederal union, seems to have failed entirely. He despairs of the republic, and is much inclined to the opinion, that it win never ne wen wun us, tut we introduce something of those hereditary distinctions which give such stability to the institutions of the old world. He looks upon this age as one of the darkest in the history of man. His office is to prophecy in sackcloth, and he expects daily the laying of witnesses. In a word, he is so fright ened with the hissing of steam, the noise of ma- y running to and fro, the general excitement at tendant on the increase of knowledge, and the commotions and jarrings incidental to the rapid progress of society, that he feels as if it were the chief end of man to stand still and hold back. This is our conservative. You have heard mi. How did he preach f i owertully, do you with his hallucination. But as soon as you re member what the fact is as soon as you go out of his closed and darkened apartment, and begin to perceive the reality of things, and breathe the free air, and look upon the face of blooming and rejoicing nature, the spell of such eloquence is broken. So whoever hears our conservative preacher, harping upon his own idea of the pro gressive degeneracy of this iron age, may be im pressed, so long as he forgets the facts, or while he happens to be in a melancholy mood of feeling.. But when he goes out into the real world, and sees things as they are; when he sees every interest of society actually advancing science continually mamng new discoveries, anu an instantly turning; each new discovery to account for the use of man knowledge diffused more copiously m all di rections, and among all classes the means of hu man comfort endlessly multiplied great reforma tion of morals, brought to pass by the voluntary efforts of good and patriotic men arguing with their fellow-citizens the press free, the pulpit free, the churches free from all subjection to the state the school and the sanctuary rising in eve ry new settlement that intrudes upon the wilder ness an educated and devoted ministry, coming; forward by thousands, to build up the waste pla ces missionaries going out in companies, tc preach the doctrine of Christ crucified, in every quarter of the world presses and schools set up on the darkest and remotest shores, and barbarous tongues learning the name and praise of Jesus it is impossible for him to believe that the night of the dark ages is again closing in upon the world. He who is continually crying out, that an age like this, an age of freedom, peace, and universal progress, is, of all ages, most disastrous to the church, ought to know that the people can retain their confidence in the divinity of the Christian: religion, only by losing their confidence in him. Let it not be so with you. Beware how you fall into this morose and green-eyed humor of ul tra conversation. Never be afraid of improve ment. Show that you have in you the spirit of reform and progress. Be co-workers with him who is making all things new. Remember that, in this age, above all others, if ministers of the gospel stand as the guardians of old errors or abu ses, if they look upon improvements with a jeal ous eye, if they always exalt the days of fifty years ago as better than these days, their hold upon the popular mind is gone ; their sympathy with the popular heart is gone : and the power of the pulpit is no more. Biblical Repository. the - COMMON SCHOOL JOURNAL, PROSPECTUS. THE subscribers propose to publish a Paper, to be de voted to the cause of education. It will be called The Common School Journal. The Editorial Department will be under the care of tho Hon. Horace M ann, Secretary of the Board of Education. It will be pu Wished semi-monthly, in an octavo form, of sixteen pages each. Twenty four numbers will be is sued each year, making an annual rolumn of S84 pages. The subscription price will be One Dollar a year. The great object of tho work will be the improvement of Common Schools, and other means of Popular Educa tion. It is also intended to make ft a depository of ihi Laws of the Commonwealth in relation to Schools, and of the Reports, Proceedings, &c, of the Massachusetts Board of Education. As the documents of that Board will have a general interest, they ought to be widely diffused, and permanently preserved. the Paper will explain, and as far as possible, enforce upon all parents, guardians, teachers, and school officers, their respective duties towards the rising generation. It will also address to children and youth all intelligible mo tives to obey the laws of physical health, to cultivate "good behavior," to strengthen the intellectual faculties, and enrich them with knowledge; and to edvance moral and religious sentiments into ascendency and control over cnimal and selfish propensities. Ihe I aper will be kept entirely aloof from partizanship in politics, and commendiug to practice, only the great and fundamental truths of civil and social obligation, of moral and religious duty. It will not be so much the ob ject of the work to discover, as to diffuse knowledge. Ia this age ana country, the dilheulty is not so much that but few things on the subject of education are known, ns it is that but few persons know them. Many parents and teach ers not at all deficient in good sense and abounding in good feeling and good purposes, fail only from want of in formation how to expand and cherish the infantile and ju venile mind, and hence they ruin children through love unguided by wisdom. It should therefore be the first ef fort of all friends of education to make that which is now known to any, as far as possible, known to all. The pro posed Paper is designed to be the instrument of accom plishing such an object. It is hoped that such a subscription list will be obtained as to authorize a commencement of the Paper during the current year. Terms One Dollar per annum, payable in advance; or, six copies for five dollars. Friends of education are requested to procure subscribers, and forward their lists to the publishers. All letters must be post paid. 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