asked for the mischievous author, declaring at the same time that he would not have taken five guineas for his tree. Nobody could tell him anything about it. Presently George and his hatchet made their appearance. George, said his father, do you know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the garden? This was a tough question; and George staggered under it for a moment; but quickly recovered himself, and looking at his father with the sweet face of youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of all-conquering truth, he bravely cried out, I can't tell a lie. Pa; you know I can't tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet. Run to my arms, you dearest boy, cried his father in transports, run to my arms. Glad am I, George, that you killed my tree; for you have paid me for it a thousandfold. Such an act of heroism in my son is more worth than a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, and their fruits of purest gold."

It was in this way, by interesting at once both his heart and head, that Mr. Washington conducted George with great ease and pleasure along the happy paths of virtue. But well knowing that his beloved charge, soon to be a man, would be left exposed to numberless temptations, both from himself and from others, his heart throbbed with the tenderest anxiety to make him acquainted with that GREAT BEING, whom to know and love is to possess the surest defence against vice, and the best of all motives to virtue and happiness. To startle George into a lively sense of his Maker, he fell upon the following very curious but impressive expedient:

One day he went into the garden, and prepared a little bed of finely pulverized earth, on which he wrote George's name at full, in large letters. Then strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them up, and smoothed all down nicely with the roller. This bed he purposely prepared close alongside of a gooseberry walk, which happening at this time to be well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be honored with George's visits pretty regularly every day. Not many mornings had passed away before in came George, with eyes wild rolling, and his little cheeks ready to burst with great news.

"O, Pa! come here! come here!"

"What's the matter, my son, what's the matter?" "O come here, I tell you, Pa, come here! and I'll show you such a sight as you never saw in all your lifetime."

The old gentleman suspecting what George would be at, gave him his hand, which he seized with great eagerness, and tugging him along through the garden, led him point blank to the bed whereon was inscribed, in large letters, and in all the freshness of newly sprung plants, the full name of

GEORGE WASHINGTON. "There, Pa!" said George, quite in an ecstacy of astonishment, "did you ever see such a sight in all your lifetime?"

"Why, it seems like a curious affair, sure enough, George!"

"But, Pa, who did make it there? who did make it there?"

66

It grew there by chance, I suppose, my son." "By chance, Pa! O no! no! it never did grow there by chance, Pa; indeed that it never did!" "High! why not, my son?"

"Why, Pa, did you ever see anybody's name in a plant bed before?"

"Well, but George, such a thing might happen, though you never saw it before."

"Yes, Pa, but I did never see the little plants grow up so as to make one single letter of my name before. Now how could they grow up so as to make all the letters of my name? And then standing one

after another, to spell my name so exactly! And all so neat and even, too, at top and bottom! O Pa, you must not say chance did all this. Indeed somebody did it; and I dare say now, Pa, you did it just to scare me, because I am your little boy."

His father smiled, and said, "Well, George, you have guessed right. I indeed did it; but not to scare you, my son; but to learn you a great thing which I wish you to understand. I want, my son, to introduce you to your true Father."

"High, Pa, an't you my true father, that has loved me, and been so good to me always?"

"Yes, George, I am your father, as the world calls it; and I love you very dearly too. But yet with all my love for you, George, I am but a poor goodfor-nothing sort of a father in comparison of one you have."

"Aye! I know, well enough, whom you mean, Pa. You mean God Almighty, don't you?" "Yes, my son, I mean him indeed. He is your true Father, George."

"But, Pa, where is God Almighty? I did never see him yet."

True, my son; but though you never saw him, yet he is always with you. You did not see me when ten days ago I made this little plant bed, where you see your name in such beautiful green letters; but though you did not see me here, yet you know I

was here!"

Yes, Pa, that I do. I know you were here."

"Well, then, and as my son could not believe that chance had made and put together so exactly the letters of his name, (though only sixteen) then how can he believe that chance could have made and put together all those millions and millions of things that are now so exactly fitted to his good! That my son may look at everything around him, see! what fine eyes he has got! and a little pug nose to smell the sweet flowers! and pretty ears to hear sweet sounds! and a lovely mouth for his bread and butter! and O, the little ivory teeth to cut it for him! and the dear little tongue to prattle with his father! and precious little hands and fingers to hold his playthings! and beautiful little feet for him to run about upon! and when my little rogue of a son is tired with running about, then the still night comes for him to lie down, and his mother sings, and the little crickets chirp him to sleep! and as soon as he has slept enough, and jumps up fresh and strong as a little buck, there the sweet golden light is ready for him! When he looks down into the water, there he sees the beautiful silver fishes for him! and up in the trees there are the apples, and peaches, and thousands of sweet fruits for him! and all, all around him, wherever my dear boy looks, he sees everything just to his wants and wishes; the bubbling springs with cool sweet water for him to drink! and the wood to make him sparkling fires when he is cold! and beautiful horses for him to ride! and strong oxen to work for him! and the good cows to give him milk! and bees to make sweet honey for his sweeter mouth! and the little lambs, with snowy wool, for beautiful clothes for him! Now, these and all the ten thousand other good things more than my son can ever think of, and all so exactly fitted to his use and delight-Now how could chance ever have done all this for my little son? Oh, George !—"

He would have gone on, but George, who had hung upon his father's words with looks and eyes of all-devouring attention, here broke out

"Oh. Pa, that's enough! that's enough! It can't be chance, indeed, it can't be chance, that made and gave me all these things."

"What was it then, do you think, my son?"

High, Pa! Isn't that great big house your house, and this garden, and the horses yonder, and oxen, and sheep, and trees, and everything, isn't all yours, Pa?"

Oh no, my son! No! Why you make me shrink into nothing, George, when you talk of all these belonging to me, who can't even make a grain of sand! Oh, how could I, my son, have given life to those great oxen and horses, when I can't give life even to a fly? No, for if the poorest fly were killed, it is not your father, George, nor all the men in the world that could ever make him alive again!"

At this George fell into a profound silence, while his pensive looks showed that his youthful soul was laboring with some idea never felt before. Perhaps it was at this moment that the good Spirit of God ingrafted on his heart that germ of piety, which filled his after life with so many of the precious fruits of morality.

KEIMER'S ATTEMPT AT A NEW RELIGION-FROM THE LIFE OF FRANKLIN.

Ben was naturally comic in a high degree, and this pleasant vein, greatly improved by his present golden prospects, betrayed him into many a frolic with Keimer, to whom he had prudently attached himself as a journeyman, until the Annis should sail. The reader will excuse Ben for these frolics when he comes to learn what were their aims; as also what an insufferable old creature this Keimer was. Silly as a BOOBY, yet vain as a JAY, and garrulous as a PIE, he could never rest but when in a stiff argument, and acting the orator, at which he looked on Cicero himself as but a boy to him. Here was a fine target for Ben's SOCRATIC ARTILLERY, which he frequently played off on the old Pomposo with great effect. By questions artfully put, he would obtain of him certain points, which Keimer readily granted, as seeing in them no sort of connexion with the matter in debate. But yet these points, when granted, like distant nets slyly hauling round a porpoise or sturgeon, would, by degrees, so completely circumvent the silly fish, that with all his flouncing and fury he could never extricate himself, but rather got more deeply entangled. Often caught in this way, he became at last so afraid of Ben's questions, that he would turn as mad when one of them was "poked at him," as a bull at sight of a scarlet cloak; and would not answer the simplest question without first asking, "well, and what would you make of that?" He came at length to form so exalted an opinion of Ben's talents for refutation, that he seriously proposed to him one day that they should turn out together and preach up a NEW RELIGION! Keimer was to preach and make the converts, and Ben to answer and put to silence the gainsayers. He said a world of money might be made by it.

On hearing the outlines of this new religion, Ben found great fault with it. This he did only that he might have another frolic with Keimer; but his frolics were praiseworthy, for they all "leaned to virtue's side." The truth is, he saw that Keimer was prodigiously a hypocrite. At every whipstitch he could play the knave, and then for a pretence

would read his Bible. But it was not the moral part of the Bible, the sweet precepts and parables of the Gospel that he read. No, verily. Food so angelic was not at all to the tooth of his childish fancy, which delighted in nothing but the novel and curious. Like too many of the saints now-a-days, he would rather read about the WITCH OF ENDOR, than the GOOD SAMARITAN, and hear a sermon on the brazen candlesticks than on the LOVE OF GOD. And then, O dear! who was Melchizedeck? Or where was the land of Nod? Or, was it in the shape of a serpent or a monkey that the devil tempted Evel As he was one day poring over the pentateuch as busy after some nice game of this sort as a terrier on the track of a weazel, he came to that famous text where Moses says, "thou shalt not mar the corners of thy beard." Aye! this was the divinity for Keimer. It struck him like a new light from the clouds: then rolling his eyes as from an apparition, he exclaimed, "miserable man that I am! and was I indeed forbidden to mar even the corners of my beard, and have I been all this time shaving myself as smooth as an eunuch! Fire and brimstone, how have you been boiling up for me, and I knew it not! Hell, deepest hell is my portion, that's a clear case, unless I reform. And reform I will if I live. Yes, my poor naked chin, if ever I but get another crop upon thee and I suffer it to be touched by the ungodly steel, then let my right hand forget her cunning."

ever

From that day he became as shy of a razor as Samson was. His long black whiskers "whistled in the wind." And then, to see how he would stand up before his glass and stroke them down, it would have reminded you of some ancient Druid, adjusting the sacred Mistletoe.

Ben could not bear that sight. Such shameless neglect of angel morality, and yet such fidgetting about a goatish beard! "Heavens, sir," said he to Keimer, one day in the midst of a hot argument,

"Who can think, with common sense,

A smooth shaved face gives God offence?
Or that a whisker bath a charm,
Eternal justice to disarm ?"

Keimer

He even proposed to him to get shaved. swore outright that he would never lose his beard. A stiff altercation ensued. But Keimer getting angry, Ben agreed at last to give up the beard. He said that," as the beard at best was but an external, a mere excrescence, he would not insist on that as so very essential. But certainly, sir," continued he, "there is one thing that is."

Keimer wanted to know what that was.

Why, sir," added Ben, "this turning out and preaching up a NEW RELIGION, is, without doubt, a very serious affair, and ought not to be undertaken too hastily. Much time, sir, in my opinion at least, should be spent in making preparation, in which fasting should certainly have a large share.”

Keimer, who was a great glutton, said he could never fast.

Ben then insisted that if they were not to fast altogether, they ought, at any rate, to abstain from animal food, and live as the saints of old did, on vegetables and water.

Keimer shook his head, and said that if he were to live on vegetables and water, he should soon die. Ben assured him that it was entirely a mistake. He had tried it often, he said, and could testify from his own experience that he was never more healthy and cheerful than when he lived on vegetables alone. "Die from feeding on vegetables, indeed! sir, it contradicts reason; and contradicts all history, ancient and profane. There was Daniel, and his three young friends, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed

Why,

nego, who fed on a vegetable diet, of choice; did they languish and die of it? Or rather did they not display a rouge of health and fire of genius, far beyond those silly youths who crammed on all the luxuries of the royal table? And that amiable Italian nobleman, Lewis Cornaro, who says of bread, that it was such a dainty to his palate, that he was almost afraid, at times, it was too good for him to eat; did he languish and die of this simple fare? On the contrary, did he not outlive three generations of gratified epicures, and after all, go off in his second century, like a bird of Paradise, singing the praises of Temperance and Virtue? And pray, sir," continued Ben, "where's the wonder of all this? Must not the blood that is formed of vegetables be the purest in nature? And then, as the spirits depend on the blood, must not the spirits secreted from such blood be the purest too? And when this is the case with the blood and spirits, which are the very life of the man, must not that man enjoy the best chance for such healthy secretions and circulations as are most conducive to long and happy life ?"

While Ben argued at this rate, Keimer regarded him with a look which seemed to say, " Very true, sir; all this is very true, but still I cannot go it."

Ben, still unwilling to give up his point, thought he would make one more push at him. "What a pity it is," said he with a sigh, "that the blessings of so sublime a religion should be all lost to the world, merely for lack of a little fortitude on the part of its propagators."

This was touching him on the right string; for Keimer was a man of such vanity, that a little flattery would put him up to anything. So after a few hems and ha's, he said, he believed he would, at any rate, make a trial of this new regimen.

Having thus carried his point, Ben immediately engaged a poor old woman of the neighborhood to become their cook; and gave her off-hand, written receipts for three and forty dishes; not one of which contained a single atom of fish, flesh, or fowl. For their first day's breakfast on the new regimen, the old woman treated them with a tureen of oatmeal gruel. Keimer was particularly fond of his breakfast, at which a nice beef-steak with onion sauce was a standing dish. It was as good as a farce to Ben, to see with what an eye Keimer regarded the tureen, when, entering the room, in place of his steak, hot, smoking, and savory, he beheld this pale, meagre-looking slop.

What have you got there?" said he, with a visage grum, and scowling eye.

"A dish of hasty pudding," replied Ben, with the smile of an innocent youth who had a keen appetite, with something good to satisfy it; a dish of nice hasty pudding, sir, made of oats."

64

"Of OATS?" retorted Keimer, with a voice raised to a scream.

"Yes, sir, oats," rejoined Ben; "oats, that precious grain which gives such elegance and fire to our noblest of quadrupeds, the horse."

Keimer growled out, that he was no horse to eat

been so much jalap; while Ben, all smile and chat, breakfasted most deliciously.

At dinner, by Ben's order, the old woman paraded a trencher piled up with potatoes. Keimer's grumbling fit came on him again. "He saw clear enough," he said, " that he was to be poisoned."

"Poh! cheer up, man," replied Ben; "this is your right preacher's bread."

"Bread the d-1!” replied Keimer, snarling.

Yes, bread, sir," continued Ben, pleasantly; "the bread of life, sir; for where do you find such health and spirits, such bloom and beauty, as among the honest-hearted IRISH, and yet for their breakfast, dinner, and supper, the potato is their tetotum; the first, second, and third course."

In this way, Ben and his old woman went on with Keimer; daily ringing the changes on oatmeal gruel, roasted potatoes, boiled rice, and so on, through the whole family of roots and grains in all their various genders, moods, and tenses.

Sometimes, like a restive mule, Keimer would kick up and show strong symptoms of flying the way. But then Ben would prick him up again with a touch of his ruling passion, vanity. Only think, Mr. Keimer," he would say, " only think what has been done by the founders of new religions: how they have enlightened the ignorant, polished the rude, civilized the savage, and made heroes of those who were little better than brutes. Think, sir, what Moses did among the stiff-necked Jews; what Mahomet did among the wild Arabs; and what you may do among these gentle drab-coated Pennsylvanians." This, like a spur in the flank of a jaded horse, gave Keimer a new start, and pushed him on afresh to his gruel breakfasts and potato dinners. Ben strove hard to keep him up to this gait. Often at table, and especially when he saw that Keimer was in good humour and fed kindly, he would give a loose to fancy, and paint the advantages of their new regimen in the most glowing colors. 'Aye, sir," he would say, letting drop at the same time his spoon, as in an ecstacy of his subject, while his pudding on the platter cooled, "aye, sir, now we are beginning to live like men going a preaching indeed. Let your epicures gormandize their fowl, fish, and flesh, with draughts of intoxicating liquors. Such gross, inflammatory food may suit the brutal votaries of Mars and Venus. But our views, sir, are different altogether; we are going to teach wisdom and benevolence to mankind. This is a heavenly work, sir, and our minds ought to be heavenly. Now, as the mind depends greatly on the body, and the body on the food, we should certainly select that which is of the most pure and refining quality. And this, sir, is exactly the food to our purpose. This mild potato, or this gentle pudding, is the thing to insure the light stomach, the cool liver, the clear head, and above all, those celestial passions which become a preacher that would moralize the world. And these celestial passions, sir, let me add, though I don't pretend to be a prophet, these celestial passions, sir, were you but to stick to this diet, would soon shine out in your countenance with such apostolic majesty and grace, as would strike all beholders with reverence, and enable you to carry the world before you."

Such was the style of Ben's rhetoric with old Keimer. But it could not all do. For though these harangues would sometimes make him fancy himself as big as Zoroaster or Confucius, and talk as if he should soon have the whole country running after him, and worshipping him for the GREAT LAMA of the west; yet this divinity fit was too much against the grain to last long. Unfortunately for poor Keimer, the kitchen lay between him and his bishopric: and both nature and habit had so wedded him

to that swinish idol, that nothing could divorce him. So after having been led by Ben a very d-l of a life," as he called it, "for three months," his fleshpot appetites prevailed, and he swore, " by his whiskers, he would suffer it no longer." Accordingly he ordered a nice roast pig for dinner, and desired Ben to invite a young friend to dine with them. Ben did so: but neither himself nor his young friend were anything the better for the pig.

For before they could arrive, the pig being done, and his appetite beyond all restraint, Keimer had fallen on it and devoured the whole. And there he sat panting and torpid as an ANACONDA who had just swallowed a young buffalo. But still his looks gave sign that the "Ministers of Grace" had not entirely deserted him, for at sight of Ben and his young friend, he blushed up to the eyelids, and in a glow of scarlet, which showed that he paid dear for his whistle (gluttony), he apologized for disappointing them of their dinner. Indeed, the smell of the pig," he said,

was so sweet, and the nicely browned skin so inviting, especially to him who had been long starved, that for the soul of him he could not resist the temptation to taste it-and then, O! if Lucifer himself had been at the door, he must have gone on, let what would have been the consequences." He said, too, "that for his part he was glad it was a pig and not a hog, for that he verily believed he should have bursted himself." Then leaning back in his chair and pressing his swollen abdomen with his paws, he exclaimed, with an awkward laugh, "Well, I don't believe I was ever cut out for a bishop!" Here ended the farce: for Keimer never after this uttered another word about his NEW RELIGION.

Ben used, laughing, to say that he drew Keimer into this scrape that he might enjoy the satisfaction of starving him out of his gluttony. And he did it also that he might save the more for books and candles: their vegetable regimen costing him, in all, rather less than three cents a day! To those who can spend twenty times this sum on tobacco and whiskey alone, three cents per day must appear a scurvy allowance, and of course poor Ben must be sadly pitied. But such philosophers should remember that all depends on our loves, whose property it is to make bitter things sweet, and heavy things light.

For example: to lie out in the darksome swamp with no other canopy but the sky, and no bed but the cold ground, and his only music the midnight owl or screaming alligator, seems terrible to servile minds; but it was joy to Marion, whose "whole soul," as General Lee well observes, "was devoted to liberty and country."

So, to shut himself up in a dirty printing-office, with no dinner but a bit of bread, no supper but an apple, must appear to every epicure as it did to Keimer, "a mere d-l of a life;" but it was joy to Ben, whose whole soul was on his books, as the sacred lamps that were to guide him to usefulness and glory.

Happy he who early strikes into the path of wisdom, and bravely walks therein till habit sprinkles it with roses. He shall be led as a lamb among the green pastures along the water courses of pleasure, nor shall he ever experience the pang of those

Who see the right, and approve it too;

Condemn the wrong-and yet the wrong pursue.

JEDIDIAH MORSE.

Imone

THE author of the first geography of the United States, Jedidiah Morse, was a descendant of an

old New England family, and was born at Wood stock, Conn., in 1761. He became a graduate of Yale in 1783, and was installed minister of the church at Charlestown, Mass., April 30, 1789, where he remained until 1821. The remainder of his life was passed at New Haven, where he died, June 9, 1826. He published a number of sermons, delivered on thanksgivings, fasts, and other special occasions; a work on the election of a Hollis professor of divinity, in 1805; a brief abridgment of the History of New England; a General Gazetteer; and his Geography, the first "Four edition of which appeared in 1789. years," he states, "were employed in this work, during which period he visited the several states of the Union, maintained an extensive correspondence with men of science, and submitted his manuscripts to the inspection of gentlemen in the states which they particularly described for their correction." The portion devoted to the United States occupies 480 out of the 530 closely printed octavo pages, and contains a full description not only of the natural features of the country, but of its history, and is especially valuable for its minute account of the chief towns and eities, and its gossiping observation upon the manners and customs of the people of the different states. He also published in 1822 a Report of a Tour among the Îndians in the Summer of 1820, made in pursuance of a commission from government.

ALBERT GALLATIN.

ALBERT GALLATIN was born at Geneva, Switzerland, January 29, 1761. His parents died in his infancy; but by the care of a distant lady relative of his mother, he received an excellent education. After graduating in 1799 from the university of his native city, he emigrated to America, and landed at Boston, July 14, 1780. Meeting here with some friends of his family who designed settling in Maine, he accompanied them to their destination, near the fort at Machias. On arriving there, he found the commander, Captain John Allen, engaged in raising a company of volunteers to march to the defence of Passamaquoddy. He not only joined and accompanied the expedition, but loaned the commanding officer six hundred dollars, nearly all the money he had, taking an order on the government in payment. On his return to Boston, he found the treasury destitute of funds, and, unable to wait for the chances of its replenishment, was forced to sell his claim for one third of its value. In 1782 he was appointed teacher of French in Harvard College, and in the following year removed to Virginia. Here he was brought into prominent notice by the ability with which he argued the claims of some foreign capitalists who had made large advances to the state of Virginia. We next find him purchasing, with the patrimony which he had drawn from Europe, an extensive tract in the west of the state. It was probably while engaged in examining these lands, that the interview occurred with General Washington, which is related in Mr. John R. Bartlett's address before the N. Y. Historical Society* on the decease of Mr. Gallatin.

Lit. World, v. 510.

one room.

"Mr. Gallatin said he first met General Washington at the office of a Land Agent, near the Kenawha river, in North Western Virginia, where he (Mr. G.) had been engaged in surveying. The office consisted of a log house, 14 feet square, in which was but In one corner of this was a bed for the use of the agent. General Washington, who owned large tracts of land in this region, was then visiting them in company with his nephew, and at the same time examining the country with a view of opening a road across the Alleghanies. Many of the settlers and hunters familiar with the country, had been invited to meet the General at this place, for the purpose of giving him such information as would enable him to select the most eligible pass for the contemplated road. Mr. Gallatin felt a desire to meet this great man, and determined to await his arri val.

"On his arrival, General Washington took his seat at a pine table in the log cabin, or rather land agent's office, surrounded by the men who had come to meet him. They all stood up, as there was no room for seats. Some of the more fortunate, however, secured quarters on the bed. They then underwent an examination by the General, who wrote down all the particulars stated by them. He was very inquisitive, questioning one after the other, and noting down all they said. Mr. Gallatin stood among the others in the crowd, though quite near the table, and listened attentively to the numerous queries put by the General, and very soon discovered from the various relations which was the only practicable pass through which the road could be made. He felt uneasy at the indecision of the General, when the point was so evident to him, and without reflecting on the impropriety of it, suddenly interrupted him, saying, “Oh, it is plain enough, such a place (a spot just mentioned by one of the settlers) is the most practicable.' The good people stared at the young surveyor (for they only knew him as such) with surprise, wondering at his boldness in thrusting his opinion unasked upon the General.

"The interruption put a sudden stop to General Washington's inquiries. He laid down his pen, raised his eyes from his paper, and cast a stern look at Mr. Gallatin, evidently offended at the intrusion of his opinion, but said not a word. Resuming his former attitude, he continued his interrogations for a few minutes longer, when, suddenly stopping, he threw down his pen, turned to Mr. Gallatin, and said, 'You are right, sir.'

It was so on all occasions with General Washington,' remarked Mr. Gallatin to me. 'He was slow in forming an opinion, and never decided until he knew he was right."

"To continue the narrative: the General stayed here all night, occupying the bed alluded to, while his nephew, the land agent, and Mr. Gallatin rolled themselves in blankets and buffalo skins, and lay upon the bare floor. After the examination mentioned, and when the party went out, General Washington inquired who the young man was who had interrupted him, made his acquaintance, and learned all the particulars of his history. They occasionally met afterwards, and the General urged Mr. Gallatin to become his land agent; but as Mr. Gallatin was then, or intended soon to become, the owner of a large tract of land, he was compelled to decline the favorable offer made him by General Washington.”

Monongahela, in Pennsylvania, on the borders of Virginia.

In 1789 he was elected a member of the convention assembled to amend the constitution of the state, and in the following year a member of the House of Representatives of the same commonwealth. He soon became the leading member of that body, by whom he was chosen in 1793 United States Senator.

He took his seat, but retained it only two months, it being then decided, after elaborate argument, by a strict party vote of fourteen to twelve, that he was ineligible to the office. The point in dispute related to the period from which his citizenship was to be dated.

In 1794 Mr. Gallatin married a daughter of Commodore Nicholson, and returning to his residence in Pennsylvania, was soon again engaged in public affairs in consequence of the insurrection against the excise duty then levied by Congress. He attended a public meeting of citizens of the western counties, called to take in consideration the unsettled state of the country arising from this difficulty, and by his influence succeeded in preventing the passage of resolutions of a violent and treasonable nature, and procuring the appointment of delegates to treat with those appointed for the purpose by the federal and state governments.

On the fourteenth of October, in the same year, he was elected member of Congress for the district adjacent to that in which he resided. He was put up, without his knowledge, as an independent candidate, in opposition to the nominees of the two regular parties, on the express ground of his recent service in the cause of order.

Gallatin entered Congress Dec., 1795, and was thrice re-elected by the same district, but was prevented from serving his fourth term by his appointment as Secretary of the Treasury by Mr. Jefferson. He at once became the leader of the republican party. His services to the country in its financial relations have been universally acknowledged. He opposed the increase of the national debt, and prepared the way for its gradual extinction. He was a warm advocate of internal improvements, and particularly of the National Road and of the Coast Survey. also systematized the mode of disposal of the public lands. In 1813 he retired from the Cabinet to take part with Adams and Clay in the negotiations for peace with Great Britain.

He

From 1816 to 1823 he resided in Paris, as the minister of the United States. In 1826 he was appointed to similar office at the court of Great Britain. His intercourse with both governments was signalized by treaties and other measures of great benefit to the United States.

In 1827 he returned to his adopted country, and resided for the remainder of his life in the city of New York. Here he soon after his return prepared the argument in behalf of the United States, to be laid before the King of the Netherlands as umpire on the Maine boundary question. An elaborate essay on the same subject appeared from his pen in 1840. In 1831 Gallatin published Considerations on the Currency and Banking System of the United States, in which he reviewed the laws of paper money and the Banking system of the United States, with its metallic