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grilling jSIifttj} of jforhr fife.
fm i?iii ntnr. The fol]k>wing incident of wild life in America will bo read with interest. It lias all the excitemont of romance about ic. A party of adventurers having fallen on the stores of a body of Indians, deter? mined to partake of the provisions they had found. In the field on the bank of 'ii.t river they kindled a fire for the pur? pose of cooking those, and were about, in lue*lan?rua?;c of Dale, the leader of the parly, u to make use of the 'brilcd' bones and hot ashcake," when they were star? tled by the discharge of several rifles, and the sudden war-whoops of some twen? ty-five or thirty Indians, who came rush? ing towards them from three sides of the field. Dale's party immediately seized their rifles, and being too few to oppose the force of the enemy, clashed down the second or upper bank of the river, and took post among the trees, whence they kept in check the approach of the savages. By this time the canoes had conveyed .all but twelve of the entire force to the opposite side of the river, and one canoe alone had returned for the residue. This was the first thought of the little party, who wore now hemmed in by tho Indians. But simultaneously with the attack by land, a large canoe, containing eleven v.riors, had issued from a bend in the river above, and descended rapidly, with iL. evident design of intercepting com? munication with the opposite shore. They d >w attempted to approach the shore and join in the attack, but were kept at a dis? tance by a well directed fire of a few of Dale's men. Two of their number, how? ever, leaped into the river, and swam, with their rifles above their heads, for the bank, just abovo the mouth of a little creek, near the northern corner of the field. One of these as he approached the shore, was shot by Smith ; but Austill, in attempting to intercept the other, was ' thrown by the underwood and rolled into the water within a few feet of his antag? onist. The Indian reached the shore and ran up the bank. Anstill, in pursuing him through the cane wns fired *vt, m mis? take for an Indian, by Creagh, and nar? rowly escaped. During this by-scene. Dale and the other eight of his valiant companions Were interchanging hot fires with the en? emy. Those in the canoe sheltered them? selves by lying in its bottom and firing over the sides. The party on shore were deterred from pressing closely by an ig? norance of the number of Dale's forces. ' This cause alone saved them from certain destruction. But the circumstances were rfow growing more critical. Soon the In? dians .must discover the weakness of their opponents, and rush forward with irresis? tible superiority. A more perilous posi? tion can scarcely be imagined, and yet ,. ihere was ono in this contest. Dale, seeing tho superiority of the ene? my, called out to his comrades on tho op ? poslte shore for assistance. They had ?thus rar romaincd inefficient, but excited spejtr.^ors of the scene. But now (light of their number leaped into their canoe, and bore out towards the enemy. Upon, approaching near enough, however, to discover the number of the Indians, the man in the bow, becoming alarmed at the superiority of the foe, ordered tho paddies to " back water," and they returned to land! Dale, indignant at this cowardice, demanded of his men, who would join him in an attack upon the Indian canoe ? Austill and Smith immediately volun? teered) and with a negro a stecrman, named Ca?sar, the little party embarked for the dreadful encounter. As they approached, one of the Indians fired without effect. "When within thirty feet, Smith fired, and probably wounded one of the Indians, whose shoulder was visible above the canoe. Dale and Aus? till attempted to fire, but their priming having been dampened, their guns could :: bo discharged. Fortunately the In? dians had exhausted their powder. The :ie party now bore down in silence ? on the foe. As the boats came in con? tact at the bows, the Indians all leaped to theirfeet. Austill was in front, and bore for a moment the brunt of the battle. But by tho order of Dale, the negro swayed round the canoe, and " Big Sam " leaped into the enemy's boat, giving more room to Smith and Austill, and pressing together the Indians, who werO already too crowded. The negro occupied his time in holding the canoes together. The rifles of both parties used as clubs; and dreadful were the blows both given and taken; for three more gallant men than these assailants never took part in a crowded molee. The details of the struggle can searccly be given. Dale's second blow broke the barrel of his gun, which he then ex? changed for Smith's, and so fought till the end of the scene. Austill was, at one time, prostrated by a blow from a wa r club, and tell into the Indian canoe, be? tween two of the enemy, arid whs ab?nt i being slain by his assailant, when the lal-' tor was fortunately put to deathly Smith, j Austill rose, grappling with an [ndin: . wrested his war club from him, struck [ him over the skull, and he tell dead in iii< river. The last surviving Indian had^bcon, be? fore the war, a particular friend of Dale's. They had hunted together long and fa? miliarly, and were alike distinguished for their excellence in those vigorous sports so much prized by those men of the woods. The young Muscpgc? was re? garded as one of the most cluvalajkis ro riors of his tribe. Dale would always say. when, long subsequently, ho narrated these circumstances, and he never did so without weeping, that he "loveft&hat Tn dian like a brother, and wantctl2to save him from the fate of the others.'' But the eye of the young warrior was filled with fire; ho leaped before his opponent with a proud fury; cried out in Musco gec, "Sam Thiucco, you're ? a man. and I'm another! Now for it!" and grappled in deadly conflict. The white mj^h proved the victor. With one blow of his rifle, he crushed the skull of the young hero. The j young hero still holding his gun firmly grasped in his hands, fell backwards into I the water, and the canoe fight was over. -+ I Domestic Affections.?In the dull, prosy, interminable, matter-of-fact speech? es of members of Congress, we occasional? ly find a glimpso of sunshine?an oasis in the desert, a passage replete with beauty of language and refinement of feeling, which deserves to be treasured in the memory. Such is the character of the following extract from a speech of Sena? tor Yulee, of Floridn: "Mr. President, the deepest interest of the human heart?that which in civilized life, next to the concerns of his spiritual being and his responsibility as a creature of Cod, moves most strongly the affec? tion of man's nature, and stirs the ] ro foundest depths of his feelings?is the de ncss and welfare of those who associate with him at the family altar. At that al? tar kneels with liim the gentle Eve of his bosom, whose devotion and love and vir? tues make the daily charm of hjs life, whose heart is intertwined with his own tendrils that a mutual sympathy and in? terchange of sweet affections, hourly ex? tend and strengthen; there, cop, clinging close around him, gather the offspring of their pure and heaven-blessed love?dear, not only as the pledges of their own hap? py union, but the more dear for their helplessness and dependence : there, too. Imply tend the tottering stops of i' parents of his days, whose kimhu'ss and culture of his early years. their re-i ward in the grateful care ivkh which i cherishes their declining days; and ::J, that altar tho inspiration is daily freshened, which impels him. under the influence of a beneficent Providence, to place his high? est earthly happiness in the chcrishmcnt and protection of that magic circle. i? ..> in the security and confidence which the Government casts around these cherished affections, in the protection which il aids ! us to bestow upon these first placets of I our care, in tho ability it confers upon us to preserve the fruits of our industry for their use in our-own day. and after, by our departure from life, they are I aft to struggle alone, that* the seeds of patriot? ism find their favored soil." How a Royal" Debtor was ?jade t,, Pay.?Sehlen mentions us a curious illus? tration of English law, how a fiondon merchant gotpnyment of a debt from the King of Spain. The merchant proceeded against him in the English courts'-IPn the ordinary form, and as the debtor did not chooso to make appearance or plead, the conclusive ceremony of outlawry was per? formed. It apears that the preliminary step to this denunciation was an inquiry after the debtor in all the ncigboring ale? houses, these being presumed to be the placo where those who owe most resort. Seiden gives a ludicrous account of the in? quiry at each alehouse, if the King of Spain was there, and the formal return of a universal negative by the officer; where upon, in usual form, outlawry was pro? nounced against him. In the end it was found to be no joke. Whilst the sentence of outlawry stood against him, none of his subjects could recover debts in the En? glish courts, which were closed to the whole Spanish nation, and in the ond, the London merchant was paid his debt. -*> Eat, digest; read, remember; earn, save; love, and be loved. Ifthe.se four rules be strictly followed, health, wealth, intelli J gence, and true happiness will be the re I 6Ult. I I The Dying Wife to her Husband. The following most touching fragment [of a "Letter from a Dying Wife to her! Husband.*' n:ls ''-"rid by him. some J months after her death', between Hie J leaves of a religious1 volume, which she j was very fond of perusing. The letter, \vlueb was literally dim lysjth tear marks, was written long before the husband was aware that tho grasp of a fatal disease had fastened upon the lovely form of his wife, who died at the early age of nine? teen : u When this shall reach 3'our eye, dear G-, some day when you are turning over the relics of the past. J shall have" passed away forever, and the old white stone wiil be keeping its lonely watch over the lips you have so often pressed, and the sod will be grow ing green that shall hide forever from your sight the dust of one who has so often nestled close to your warm heart. For many long and sleepless nights, when all my thoughts were at rest. I have wrestled with the consciousness of approaching death, and at last it has forced itself upon my mind; and although to you and to others it might now seem but the nervous imagi? nations of a girl, yet. dear G-. it is so ! Many weary hours have I passed in the endeavor to reconcilo myself to leaving you, whom I love so well, and this bright world of sunshine and beauty; and hard indeed it is to struggle on silently and alone, with the sure conviction that I am about to leave till forever and <ro down alone into tho dark Valley ! " But I know in whom I have trusted, and lean? ing upon His arm, I fear no evil." Don't blame me for keeping oven all this from you. How could I subject you, of all oth? ers, to such sorrow as I feel at parting when time will so soon mako it apparent to you ? I could have wished to live, if only to be at your side when your time shall come, and pillowing your head upon my breast, wipe the death damps from your brow, and usher your departing spir? it into its Maker's presence, embalmed in woman's holiest prayer. But it is not to be so?and I submit. Yours is the privi? lege of watching, through long and drea? ry niirhts. for the snivir's final flhrfiJ a?d of transferring my sinking head from your breast to my Saviour's bosom! And you shall share my last thought; the last faint pressure of the hand, and the last feeble kiss shall be yours, and even when flesh and heart shall have failed me. my eye shall rest on yours until glazed by death; and our spirits shall hold one last fond communion, until gently failing from my view?the last 0:1 earth?you shall mingle with the first bright glimpse of the unfading glories of that better world, where parting is unknown. Well do I know the spot, dear G-. where you will leave rne: uff; n have wo^.stoodbj the place; and. a? we watched '.he mellow. stinsei-.-as,,it,g)anceii in quivering flashes i through ii,<' leaves and burnished thel grassy mouncfa around us wi?t stripes of burnished gold, cwh perhaps lias though I that onci of us would come alone; and whichever.it might be,.your name would be on the stone. But wc loved tho spot; and I kunw yon'il love it none the less when vou see the s:une quiet sun-ligm linger and play among the ginss that I grows over.3*0:11* Mary's grave. 1 know yv.-'ll go often alone liiere, when I am I laid there, and my spirit will be witli you j then, and whisper among Lin: waving j branches. ? I am not lost but gone before.' " \ ?Kmcki rb'ockerl -a TlXOUtfliTS AND I'KKDS.? il is mnch easier to think rigid without doing right, than to do right without thinking right. Just thoughts may. and wofulby often do fail of producing just deeds; butjust deeds are sure to beget just thoughts. For when the heart is pure and straight, there is hardly anything which can mislead the understanding in matters of immediate personal concernment. But the clearest understanding can do little in purifying an impure heart, the strongest, little in straightening a crooked one. You cannot reason or talk an Augean stable into cleanliness. A single day's work would make more progress in such a task than a century's words. TniNGS You Must Not Do.?Never abuse one who was once your bosom friend, however bitter now. Never in? sult poverty. Never speak contemptu? ously of woman. Never eat a hearty supper. Never stop to talk in a church aisle after the service is over. Never smile at the expense of your religion or your Bible. J -+ The Heart.?It is said -of Hannibal, the great Carthagenian commander, that he was the first that went into the field of battle and the last that came out of it. Thus should it be in all the operations of a Christian: tho heart should be the first that comes into the house of God, i and the last that goes out of it, , i'?j |lcabimj. Essays Written in the Intervals of Business. bfnevolrnce. Bcvevolcncc is tho largest part of bur business, beginning with our home duties, and extending itself to the utmost verge of humanity. A vague feeling of kindness towards our fdioic creatures is no state of mind to rest in. It is not enough for us to be able to say that nothing of human interest is alien to ub, and that we give our acquiescence, or indeed our transient assistance, to any scheme of benevolence that may come in our way. No! in pro moling the welfare of others we must tpiij we must devote to it earnest thought, constant care, and zealous en? deavor. What is more, wc must do all this with patience ; and be ready, in the same cause, to make an habitual sacrifice of our owi. tastes and wishes. Nothing short of tin's is the visiting the sick, feed? ing the hungry, and clothing the naked, which our creed requires of us. charity. Few people have imagination enough to enter into the delusions of others, or indeed to look at the actions of any other person with an}' prejudices but their own. Perhaps, however, it would be nearer tho truth to ijay that few people are in the habit of employing their imagination in the scrvics of charity. Most persons re? quire its magic aiil to gild their castles in the air: to conduct them along those fan? ciful triumphal processions in which them? selves play so conspicuous a part: to con? quer enemies for them without battles; and make them virtuous without effort. This is what thoy want their imagination for: they can not spare it for any little errand of charity. And sometimes when men do think charitably, thoy arc afraid to speak out, for fear of being considered stupid, or credulous. practical wisdom. Practical wisdom acts in the mind, as gravitation does in the material world; combining, keeping things in their places, and maintaining a mutual dcpcndehC'J amongst the various parts of our system. -.? C.-- >? ? :.- '? ? -i!?_ju:,l . JJ.1?V and what wc can do. not in fancy, but in real life. It does not permit us to wait for dainty duties, pleasant to the imagi? nation; but insists upon our doing those which are before us. It is always incli? ned to make much of what it possesses: and is not given to ponder over those schemes which might have been carried on. if what is irrevocable had been other than it is. It does not suffer us to waste Otir energies in regret. In journeying with it ive go towards the sun, and the shadow of our burden falls behind us. Himi resolves. They fancy that high moral resolves and great principles are not for daily use! ail;' that there is no room for thorn in the affairs of this life. This is an extreme delusion. For how is the world ever made better'i No.l by mean little schemes which some men fondly call practical, no! by Hotting one evil thing to counteract another, but by the ihti*odnctibn of those principles of action which are at first i'M.-kvi ?ijj^u o<< tUci2rj.es, inn which are at last acknowledged aud acted uj oil as common truths. The men who first in? troduce these principles arc practical men, though the practices which jucli principles create may not come into be? ing in the lifetime of their founders. ?1udga1ent OF MF.V. in forming these lightly, wc wrong ourselves, and those whom wc judge. In scattering such things abroad, wc endow our unjust thoughts with life which we cannot take away, and become false wit? nesses to pervert the world in general. Who does-not feel that to describe with fidelity the least portion of the entangled nature that is within him would be no easy matter? And yet the same man who reels this, and who, perhaps, would be ashamed of talking at hazard about the properties of a flower, of a weed, of some figure in geometry, will put forth his guesses about the character of his brother man, as if he had the fullest au? thority for till that lie was saying. k.ixd natured. We should never iu any way consent to the ill-treatment of animals, because the fear of ridicule, or some other fear, prevents our interfering. As to there be? ing anything really trifling in any act of humanity, however slight, it is moral bbyidness to suppose so. The few mo? ments in the course of each day which a man absorbed in some worldly pursuit may carelessly exjjend in kind words or trifling charities to those around him, and kindness to an animal is one of these, are perhaps, in the sight of Heaven, the only time that he has lived to any purpose worthy of recording. motives. We are all disposed to dislike in a man nor disproportionate to their demerits, those who offend us by pretensions of any kind. We arc apt to fancy that they despise us ; whereas, all the while, per? haps, they are only courting our admira? tion. There are people who wear the worst part of their characters outwards; they offend our vanity; they rouse our fears; and under these influences we omit to consider how often a scornful man is tender-hearted, and an assuming man, one who longs to be popular and to please. AIDS TO CONTENTMENT. Many unhappy persons seem to imag? ine that they are always in amphitheatre, with t'ne assembled world as spectators; whereas all the while, they are playing to empty benches. They fancy, too, that they form the particular theme of every passer-by. If, however, they must listen to imaginary conversations about them? selves, they might, at any rate, defy the proverb, and insist upon hearing them? selves well spoken of. That man has fal? len into a pitiable state of moral sickness, in whose eyes the good opinion of his fel? low men is the test of merit, and their applause the principal reward for exer? tion. A habit of mistrust is the torment of some people. It taints their love and their friendship. They take up small causes of offence. They require their friends to show the same aspect to them n'1 all times; which is more than human nature can do. They try experiments to ascertain whether they are sufficiently loved; they watch narrowly the effects of absence, and require their friends to prove to them that the intimacy is exact? ly upon the same footing as it was before. Some persons acquire these suspicious ways from a natural diffidence in them? selves; for which they arc often loved the more; and they might find ample com? fort in that, if they could but believe it. With others, these habits arise from a sel? fishness which cannot be satisfied. And their endeavor should be to uproot such a disposition, not to sootho it. Content? ment abides with truth. And you will generally suffer for wishing to appearoth cr than what you arc; whether it be richer, or greater, or more learned. The pi'tiglf : on lincc .ics ;i? anstruinont of tor? ture. Fit objects to employ the intervals of life are among the greatest aids to contentment that a man can possess. The lives of many persons are an alternation of the one engrossing pursuit, and a sort of listless apathy. They arc cither grind? ing, or doing nothing. Now to those who are half their lives fiercely busy, the re? maining half is often torpid with quies? cence. A man should have some pursuits which may be always in his power, and i to which he may turn gladly in his hours of recreation. And if the intellect requires thus to be provided with perpetual objects, what I must it be with the affections? Depend ipon ii. the most fatal idleness is that of j the heart. And the man who feelswcary I of life may be sure that he does not love his fellow creatures as he ought. I have no intention of putting forward specifics lor real . Iii rtions, or pretending to teach refined hi Lhods for avoiding grief. As long, however, as there is anything to bo done in .! mat tot*, the time for jmevinff aitou! i. has not come. But when the subject for grief is fixed and inevitable, sorrow is to be borne like pain. It is on Iv a paroxysm of cither that can justify us in neglecting the duties which no be? reavement can lessen, and which no sor? row can leave us without. And wc may remember that sorrow is at once the lot, the trial, and the privilege, of man. HOW TO TRANSACT BUSINESS. In your converse with the world avoid anything like a juggling dexterity. The proper use of dexterity is to prevent your being circumvented by the cunning of others. It should not be aggressive. Concessions and compromises form a large and a very important part of our '?dealings with others. Concessions must generally be looked upon as distinct de? feats; and you must expect no gratitude for them, i am far from saying that it may not he wise to make concessions, but this will be done more wisely when you understand the nature of them. In making compromises, do not think to gain much by concealing your views and wishes. You are as likely to suffer from its not being known how to please or sat? isfy you, as from any attempt to over? reach you, grounded on a knowledge of your wishes. It is often worth while to bestow much pains in gaining over fool? ish people to your way of thinking: and you should do it soon. Your reasons will al? ways have someweightwiththewi.se. But if at .first you omit to put your arguments before the foolish, they will form their prejudices; and a fool is often very con sisteiu. and very fond of repetition^ He will be repeating his foil}* in season, and out of season, until at last it has' a hear? ing : and it is hard if it docs not chime in with external circumstances. party spirit. We often forget that we arc partisans ourselves, and that wc are contending ? with partisans. We first give ourselves credit for a judicial impartiality in all that concerns public affairs; and then call up? on our opponents actually to be as impar? tial as we assert ourselves to be. But few of us, I suspect, have any right to take this high ground. Our passions master us; and wo know them to bo our onemies. Our prejudices imprison us: and like madmen, we take our jailors for a guard of honor. I do not mean to suggest'that truth and right are always to be found in mid? dle courses ; or that there is anything par? ticularly philosophic in concluding that '?both parties are in the wrong,4' and "that there is a great deal to be said on both sides of the question,"?phrases which may belong to indolence as well as to charity and candor. Let a man have a hearty strong opinion, and strive by all fair means to bring it into action?if it is in truth an opinion, and not a thing in? haled like some infectious disorder. Many persons persuade themselves that the life and well being of a State are something like their own ficoting health and brief prosperity. And hence they sec portentous things in every subject of political dispute. Such fancies add much to the intolerance of party spirit. But the State will boar much killing. It has outlived many g< Leiatiohs of political prophets?and I vo the present ones. What is Genius . ? We have read, wo know not how many descriptions of Ge? nius, of all of wliich may have been correct; but still something more may be said of it. Genius is so many-colored. So mercurial, so bundoing and flashing, so soaringand roar? ing (lion-like.) so cloud-shifting (we dont like compound words, but wo use them oc? casionally.) so light-like and shade-like, so Ifrejoicing like a strong man to run a race," so subtile and profound?so frco, exultant, and spontaneous ia it, that we ma}- work away at ouradumbratiort-of it till wc are gray, and then we shall fail to "body it forth" with any cntireness. When wo comprehend and analyze the mysterious, central principlo of life, then can wc fully define genius. Wc love ge? nius, because it touches the hidden springs of our own life, and thus "opens up" I within us a strange, exultant joy. It is the " touch of nature that makes all the world akin." A man of genius is one whose inner life is brought into objective play, by reason of a better corporeal or? ganization than the "rest of mankind." He does not possess one iota more of tho great common human nature than others. On. the score of innate fundamentals, he is on a dead level with the meanest made up brother of the great family! His spirit has finer integuments?tho keys and strings, which arc mediums of life's ex? pression, in his case are of finer make, and have a moro facile instrumentality. Genius, therefore, is but an earnest voico of our great humanity. It only marshals the way in which the universal voice is to follow. In other words, genius is the re? sult of au exalted organization, and this exaltation arises either from an extra-fa? vorable organic formation, or from hered? itary inspiration, which elevates tho qual- 9 ity of the manifestation. -r? WhisKEY Drinking.?There are several temperate people very much after tho pattern of the man who figured in the sketch we present below. It was on ono of the river steamers at dinner that an amiable, matronly lady remarked, in the midst of a conversation with a very grave looking gentleman, on the subject of tem? perance. "Oh! I despise, of ail things in this world, a whiskey drinker t" The gentleman dropped his knife and fork, in the ardor of his feeli ngs extended his bands and took hers within his own, and with a vivid emotion that threatened a gush of tears over the loss of ruined ones, heTeplicd with faltering words: "Madam. I respect your sentiments,, and the heart that dictated them. I per? mit no person to go beyond me in despi? sing the "whiskey drinker. I have been disgusted on this very boat, and I say it now beforo our worthy captain's face. What, I ask you, can be more disgusting than to see well-dressed, respectable, and virtuous-looking young men, men whose mothers are even now praying that the tender instruction by wliich their youth was illuminated may bring forth precious fruit in their maturity?I say, to sec young men step up to the bar of this boat, and without fear of observing eyes, boldly ask for whiskey, when they;know very well there is in that very bpf the very best of old Cognac brandy."