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tained. And if in the councils of the Almighty it is decreed, that, we shall continue to advance in all that can render a people intelligent and virtuous, prosperous and happy, with what reverence will posterity regard the memory of those who have laid the foundation of such greatness and renown!
The state of New-York enjoys a temperate climate and a fruitful soil, and situated between the great lakes on the north nd west, and the ocean on the south and east, ought always to be the seat of plenty and salubrity. It requires nothing but the enlightened evolution of its faculties and resources to realize the beau-ideal of perfection: and the co-operation of man with the bounty of Providence, will render it a terrestial paradise: and this must be effected through the agency of intellectual, operating on physical exertion.
In this grand career of mind, in this potent effort of science, in this illustrious display of patriotism, contributions will flow in from all quarters. The humble mite will be acceptable as well as the golden talent. And the discriminating, perspica- . cious and comprehensive eye of intellect will find
Tongues in trees; books in the running brooks;
Indeed, the very ground on which we stand affords topics for important consideration and useful application. This city was among the earliest seats of European settlement. It was at the head of a great portage, reaching from the termination of the navigable waters of the west to the head waters of the Hudson. The alluvial lands of the river, rich as the soil formed by the overflowings of the Nile, were the principal residence of that ferocious and martial race, the true old heads of the Iroquois-a confederacy which carried terror, havoc and desolation from the gulf of St. Lawrence to the gulf of Mexico; and which as pired to universal empire over the savage nations. How as tonished would that people be, if they could be summoned to life, to witness the flowing of the waters of the west through this place, `seeking in a navigable shape, a new route to the Atlantic Ocean -carrying on their bosom the congregated products of nature and art, and spreading as they proceed, wealth and prosperity. Finally, whatever may be our thoughts, our words, our writ ings or our actions, let them all be subservient to the promotion of science and the prosperity of our country. Pleasure is a shadow; wealth is vanity, and power a pageant-but knowledge is extatic in enjoyment, perennial in fame, unlimited in space, and infinite in duration. In the performance of its sacred offices, it fears no danger, spares no expense, omits no exertion. It scales
the mountain, looks into the volcano, dives into the ocean, perforates the earth, wings its flight into the skies, encircles the globe, explores sea and land, contemplates the distant, examines the minute, comprehends the great, and ascends to the sublime. No place too remote for its grasp—no heavens too exalted for its reach. "Its seat is the bosom of God-its voice the harmony of the world."
MAKE WAY FOR LIBERTY !—Montgomery.
On the exploit of Arnold Winkelried, at the battle of Sempach, in which the Swiss, fighting for their independence, totally defeated the Austrians, in the fourteenth century.
"Make way for Liberty !"-he cried;
In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
Till time to dust their frames should wear;
Opposed to these, a hovering band
Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke
Marshalled once more at Freedom's call,
And now the work of life and death
It did depend on one indeed;
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.
Swift to the breach his comrades fly ;
Thus Switzerland again was free;
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE,-Wolfe.
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning;
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him,
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gaz'd on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed, And smooth'd down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reek, if they let him sleep on, In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun, That the foe was suddenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carv'd not a line, and we raised not a stoneBut we left him alone with his glory.
Extract from CAMPBELL's Pleasures of Hope.
O weep not thus, (he cried) young Ellenore,
Yet, on the barren shore and stormy deep,