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late Judge Carr. No young man of that day, gave | do you like it? well I am sorry you are at such a distance I higher or brighter promise of efficient usefulness, by cannot hear your answer, however you must let me know it by the first opportunity, and all the other news in the world which talents and virtue, in the fearful struggle just then comyou imagine will affect me. I am dear Will mencing. Tradition, coming down from relatives and Yours affectionately contemporaries who loved, admired, and deplored him, abundantly justifies Mr. Wirt* in applying to him the pathetic lament of Anchises for the untimely blight of the young Marcellus:

"Ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, neque ultra
Esse sinent."

Dear Will

II

Th: Jefferson

Wms.burgh. March. 20. 1764. 11, o'clock at night.

As the messenger who delivered me your letter, informs me that your boy is to leave town tomorrow morning I will endeavor to answer it as circumstantially as the hour of the night, and a violent headach, with which I have been afflicted these two days, will permit. with regard to the scheme which I proposed to you some time since, I am sorry to tell you it is totally frustrated by miss R. B's marriage with Jacquelin Ambler which the people here tell me they daily expect: I say, the people here tell me so, for (can you believe it?) I have been so abominably indolent as not to have seen her since last October, wherefore I cannot affirm that I know it from herself, though am as well satisfied that it is true as if she had told me. well the lord bless her I say! but tion of the gentleman who, as I told her, intended to make her Sy Pr is still left for you. I have given her a descripan offer of his hand, and asked whether or not he might expect it would be accepted. she would not determine till she saw him

No. IV is the most interesting, from the juncture at which it is dated, and from its brief and purposely mystified allusion to the momentous "DECLARATION," which was then ready to burst upon the public ear. It is written upon a full sized sheet of rather coarse but strong foolscap; and (what our recollection of the postoffice regulations of the day does not enable us clearly to explain) it is franked, by mail, precisely as Mr. J.'s letters of more recent date were. The post-office stamp is singularly rude. The following is the nearest fac simile of it, that we can make: PHILA, JULY 2 Still further to gratify the taste of antiquarian read-or his picture. now Will: as you are a piece of a limner I deers, we print the letters, as Mr. J. continued always, we believe, to write,—without capitals at the beginnings of sentences. We also preserve some instances of misspelling; and copy the manuscript, exactly, in giving only the first and last letters of some names, as well as in giving others entire. We hope the remoteness of the period, and the example of Mr. Jefferson's last and most successful biographer, will justify us in thus making free with the ancestors of respected living persons. It may be proper to add, that the originals are in our possession; and that the well known handwriting places their genuineness beyond all doubt.

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From a croud of disagreeable companions, among whom I have spent three or four of the most tedious hours of my life, I retire into Gunn's bedchamber to converse in black and white with an absent friend. I heartily wish you were here that I might converse with a Christian once more before I die: for die I must this night unless I should be relieved by the arrival of some sociable fellow. but I will now endeavor to forget my present sufferings and think of what is more agreeable to both of us. last Saturday I left Ned Carters where I had been happy in other good company, but particularly that of miss Jenny Taliaferro: and though I can view the beauties of this world with the most philosophical indifference, I could not but be sensible of the justice of the character you had given me of her. she has in my opinion a great resemblance of Nancy Wilton, but prettier. I was vastly pleased with her playing on the spinnette and singing, and could not help calling to mind those sublime verses of the Cumberland genius

Oh how I was charmed to see
Orpheus' music all in thee.

when you see Patsy Dandridge, tell her 'god bless her.' I do not like the ups and downs of a country life: to day you are frolicking with a fine girl and tomorrow you are moping by your self. thank god! I shall shortly be where my happiness will be less interrupted. I shall salute all the girls below in your name, particularly Sy Pr. dear Will I have thought of the cleverest plan of life that can be imagined. you exchange your land for Edgehill, or I mine for Fairfields, you marry Sy Pr, I marry R―a B-1 join and get a pole chair and a pair of keen horses, practise the law in the same courts, and drive about to all the dances in the country together. how

*Life of Patrick Henry.

sire that you will seat yourself immediately before your looking

no,

glass and draw such a picture of yourself as you think proper: and if it should be defective, blame yourself. (mind that I mentioned no name to her.) you say you are determined to be married as soon as possible and advise me to do the same. thank ye; I will consider of it first. many and great are the comforts of a single state, and neither of the reasons you urge can have any influence with an inhabitant and a young inhabitant too of Wms.burgh. who told you that I reported you was courting Miss Dandridge and Miss Dangerfield? it might be worth your while to ask whether they were in earnest or not. so far was I from it that I frequently bantered Miss Jy To about you, and told her how feelingly you spoke of her. there

is

scarcely any thing now going on here. you have heard I sup

pose that J. Page is courting Fanny Burwell. W. Bland, and
Betsy Yates are to be married thursday se'nnight. the Secreta-
ry's son is expected in shortly. Willis has left town intirely so
that your commands to him cannot be executed immediately, but
those to the ladies I shall do myself the pleasure of delivering
tomorrow night at the ball. Tom: Randolph of Tuckahoe has
a suit of Mecklenburgh silk which he offered me for a suit of
broadcloth. tell him that if they can be altered to fit me, I will
be glad to take them on them terms, and if they cannot, I make
no doubt but I can dispose of them here to his advantage. per-
haps you will have room to bring them in your portmanteau, or
can contrive them down by some other opportunity. let him
know this immediately. my head achs, my candle is just going
out, and my boy asleep, so must bid you adieu.

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You have before this heard and lamented the death of our good friend Carr. some steps are necessary to be immediately taken on behalf of his clients. you practised in all his courts except Chesterfield and Albemarle. I shall think I cannot better serve them than by putting their papers into your hands if you will be so good as to take them. I once mentioned to you the court of Albemarle as worthy your attention. if you chuse now to go there I would get you to take his papers for that court also. they would put you in possession of a valuable business. the king's attorney's place is vacant there, and might be worth your solliciting. if you think so you should dispatch an express for the commission. otherwise you may be prevented. write me a line in answer to this and lodge it here within a week, as I shall about that time call here to take the law papers and put them into some channel. your assistance in these matters will much oblige Dear Fleming

Your friend and humble serv't.

Th: Jefferson

VOL. III.-39

IV

Philadelphia. July 1. 1776. Dear Fleming Your's of 22d. June came to hand this morning and gratified me much as this with your former contains interesting intelli

gence.

Our affairs in Canada go still retrograde, but I hope they are now nearly at their worst. the fatal sources of these misfortunes have been want of hard money with which to procure provisions, the ravages of the small pox with which one half of our army is still down, and an unlucky choice of some officers. by our last letters, Genl. Sullivan was retired as far as Isle au noix with his dispirited army and Burgoyne pursuing him with one of double or treble his numbers. it gives much concern that he had determined to make a stand there as it exposes to great danger of losing him and his army; and it was the universal sense of his officers that he ought to retire. Genl. Schuyler has sent him positive orders to retire to Crown point but whether they will reach him time enough to withdraw him from danger is ques tionable. here it seems to be the opinion of all the General officers that an effectual stand may be made and the enemy not only prevented access into New York, but by preserving a superiority on the lakes we may renew our attacks on them to advantage as soon as our army is recovered from the small pox and recruited. but recruits, tho long ordered, are very difficult to be procured

on account of that dreadful disorder.

The Conspiracy at New York is not yet thoroughly developed, nor has any thing transpired, the whole being kept secret till the whole is got through. one fact is known of necessity, that one of the General's lifeguard being thoroughly convicted was to be shot last Saturday. General Howe with some ships (we know not how many) is arrived at the Hook, and, as is said, has landed some horse on the Jersey shore. the famous major Rogers is in custody on violent suspicion of being concerned in the conspiracy.

I am glad to hear of the Highlanders carried into Virginia. it does not appear certainly how many of these people we have but I imagine at least six or eight hundred. great efforts should be made to keep up the spirits of the people the succeeding three months: which in the universal opinion will be the only ones in

which our trial can be severe.

I wish you had depended on yourself rather than others for giving me an account of the late nomination of delegates. I

have no other state of it but the number of votes for each

per

son. the omission of Harrison and Braxton and my being next to the lag give me some alarm. it is a painful situation to be 300. miles from one's country, and thereby open to secret assassination without a possibility of self defence. I am willing to hope nothing of this kind has been done in my case, and yet I cannot be easy. if any doubt has arisen as to me, my country will have my political creed in the form of a Declaration' &c. which I was lately directed to draw. this will give decisive proof that my own sentiment concurred with the vote they instructed us to give. had the post been to go a day later we might have been at liberty to communicate this whole matter.

·

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I received your letter and have now to thank you for it. some resolutions of Congress came to hand yesterday desiring an au. thentic state to be sent them of the cruelties said to have been committed by the enemy during their late invasion. the council had already taken measures to obtain such a state. tho' so near the scene where these barbarities are said to have been commit ted I am not able yet to decide within myself whether there were such or not. the testimony on both sides is such as if heard separately could not admit a moment's suspension of our faith.

We have lately been extremely disturbed to find a pretty general opinion prevailing that peace and the independance of the thirteen states are now within our power, and that Congress have hesitations on the subject, and delay entering on the consideration. it has even been said that their conduct on this head has been so dissatisfactory to the French minister that he thinks of returning to his own country, ostensibly for better health, but in truth through disgust. such an event would be deplored here as

the most dreadful calamity. it was in contemplation of some gentlemen who conferred on the subject to propose the re-establishment of our committees of correspondence; others thought this too slow for the emergency and that plenipotentiary deputies should be sent to satisfy the mind of the French minister, and to set on foot proper measures for procuring the genuine sense of the several states. the whole however subsided on a supposition that the information might not be true, and that our delegates in Congress would think no obligations of secrecy under which they may have been laid sufficient to restrain them from informing their constituents of any proceedings which may involve the fate of their freedom and independance. it would surely be better to carry on a ten years war some time hence than to continue the present an unnecessary moment.

Our land office I think will be opened; the sale of British property take place, and our tax bill put on a better footing. these measures I hope will put our finances into a better way and enable us to cooperate with our sister states in reducing the enor mous sums of money in circulation. every other remedy is nonsensical quackery.-the house of delegates have passed a bill for removing the seat of government to Richmond. it hesitates with the Senate. we have established a board of war and a board of trade. I hear from your quarter that Genl. Sullivan is marching with a large army against the Indians. if he succeeds it will be the first instance of a great army doing any thing against Indians and his laurels will be greater. we have ever found that chosen corps of men fit for the service of the woods, going against them with rapidity, and by surprize, have been most sucesful. I believe that our Colo Clarke if we could properly reinforce him would be more likely to succeed against those within his reach than Genl. Mácintosh's regular method of proceeding. I shall hope to hear from you often. I put no name to this letter, because letters have miscarried, and if it goes safely you know the hand

Leller to Gen. Washington.

The friend who favored us with the foregoing letters of Mr. Jefferson, has placed in our hands a copy of one also, to President Washington; written, it seems, by the gentleman to whom the former were addressed. We could wish that its language were less the language of adulation-less fulsome-even towards Him, whom not Americans alone, but the well-judging throughout the world, must in time to come regard as the greatest of mankind. When the precedent is once set, of saying to a really good and great man's face all that he deserves to have said of him,-how easily, how fatally, does it lead to flatteries of the bad!

Dear sir,

This will be handed you by my friend mr. William Claiborne junr. who is at present a judge of the superior court in the state of Tennissee, and who aspires to the office of District judge in that state, where I spent several days in a late tour through the western country. Mr. Claiborne has much the respect and confidence of his fellow citizens in that quarter, among whom he has been a very successful practitioner of the law for several years; indeed his superior talents, great sobriety, and intense application to business, distinguish him from the generality of young gentlemen of his age: and I am persuaded, should he be so fortunate as to succeed in his application, you will never have cause to regret the appointment.

I hope sir, you will pardon the trouble I have given you on this occasion; and whilst the pen is yet in my hand, and you are about to retire to the enjoyment of domestick tranquility, permit me to express my entire approbation, and admiration of the wisdom, ability, and firmness with which you have discharged the arduous duties of the most important office in the united states, at a time when party prejudice, interested views, and (perhaps) resentment for supposed injuries combined are ever active in misrepresentations to the people, and in unremitting endeavours to thwart a wise and just administration of one of the best governments in the universe.

With the highest veneration for your publick and private vir tues, and most fervent prayers for your present and future happiness, I have the honor to be &c

THE HAUNTED GLEN.

I

While the evening gushes
Such pure silver out,
And the streamlet rushes
Through its grassy spout,-
And that star, so single
In its place and light,
Cheers the deepest dingle
In the halls of night;

We, whom life oppresses

'Mong the homes of men,

Should fly, where love still blesses,

Tho' in a haunted glen.

II

Oh, tremble not, my sweet one,

At tradition's talk,

For ghosts-we shall not meet one, In this sacred walk:

True, they often tell us

Round the winter's stove,
Of some foolish fellows,

Who gave up life for love;
And leaving their warm pillows,
Leapt down the stream below,
Thus choking the free billows,
That nature meant to flow.
III

If this glen be haunted

By either quick or dead,
The spot so well enchanted
Is the very spot we tread-
Something so aĕrial

Breathes along the waste,
It must please the Immaterial,.
If they cherish any taste.
The spot's so sweet, my dearest,
'Twere shame to let a sprite
Monopolize the fairest

Of all the halls of night.

IV

Here, above us, rises

A steep, but green-brow'd rock; 'Tis there, the spectre tries his

('Tis said) accustom'd walk; He has been seen by many

A timid ghost, they say, Who would not pause for any, But still kept on his way; Pursuit and question balking,

From rock to rock, most rash,
Into the river walking

With a most tremendous splash.
V

He had cause for it, they tell us,
For he happ'd, unhappily,
To be one of those young fellows
Who vex a landlady:
For though he boarded cheaply
With the good old widow Brown,

He loved too warmly, deeply,
To be able to pay down!

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From this gray peak he darted

To the sluggish stream below; (Why, dearest, how you started!'Twas but a lazy crow, That, seeing us, departed,

As he thought it time to go;)

He, the ghost, was tender hearted, For he could not bear to owe.

ΧΙ

How fairy-like, yet certain,

Light fills the path we came, And what a glittering curtain,

Night folds around her frame, In a pure and waveless splendor, For there's scarce a breath to stir, The silence, sweet and tender, Which belongs so well to her. There, o'er the sky divinely,

Her silver veil is drawn, As delicate and finely,

As the eastern wing of dawn.

XII

Here, 'neath this ledge, projected,
By the rock above the stream,
From the rude air protected,

We will watch the evening beam-
Whose mellow-light, thus flowing,
As from an ocean fount,

Is rich, like that once glowing,
Round the Prophet on the Mount:-
In excess of beauty streaming,

It is flowing through the sky,
And with equal beauty gleaming,
Hills and vales beneath it lie.

XIII

Fear not for sprites, my sweetest,
They are immaterial things,
Whose wings are ever fleetest,
When they fly to pleasant springs-
This glen is too secluded,

To be kept for them alone,
And if love was here deluded,
Here again he shall be won:
This hill, in light reposing,

'Mid such beauty, is too sweet, To be kept while dolts are dozing, But for ghosts and ghostly feet.

XIV

I care not if they wander,
With the breeze that breathes around,
They still have love to squander,

Or they would not here be found: For, hearts broken, and yet beating, And the hearts that still must break,

All other paths forsaking,

This lonely one should take.
And, 'tis for love, the dearest,
Search all the world beside,
Of each spot of earth the fairest,
Where kindred hearts have died.

EROS.

SKETCH

OF PHYSIOLOGY OF MENTAL EMOTION.

At all times civilized nations have endeavored to perpetuate the remembrance of beloved and departed friends, by some of the various arts which represent the person and features. The processes most familiar to us, are painting and sculpture, more particularly the first. And although a taste for the fine arts is by no means characteristic of the American people, and the historical or landscape painter meets with indifferent encouragement, almost every where the portrait painter finds employment, even among those little able to pay for his services. A great deal of this is doubtless attributable to personal vanity-to an anxiety on the part of persons to see themselves on canvass, whom no one would care to remember if they were gone; but much too is owing to the anxiety of affection to preserve some sensible memorial of the objects of its love, when death shall have removed the originals forever.

Then for a beam of joy to light

In memory's sad and wakeful eye; Or banish from the noon of night, Her dreams of deeper agony.

But thou serenely silent art!

By Heaven and love wast taught to lend

A milder solace to the heart-
The sacred image of a friend.

No spectre forms of pleasure fled
Thy soft'ning sweet'ning tints restore;
For thou cans't give us back the dead,
Even in the loveliest looks they wore."

And yet the art of the painter, and all the feelings which in this case lead to its encouragement, are directly in conflict with a singular provision of nature, which erases from the memory the image of a beloved object, when we are separated from it, and makes the obliteration complete in proportion to the intensity of our attachment. We can call up to the "mind's eye," with great readiness, the features of our common acquaintances, after almost any period of separation; but how difficult is it to present to our imagination those of objects dear to conjugal and parental love?

Lovers, too, do not readily remember the features of each other; and the oblivion is often so complete, that the parties have been said, by an acute observer, to be frequently disappointed on meeting after a separation of some duration, having fancied each other much more beautiful than reality presents them. It is fortunate that any means exist of softening the operation of so violent a passion, at those periods when its objects are necessarily withdrawn, although temporarily, both for the comfort of the parties and their utility as members of society.

But the benevolence of the provision is much more striking when it intervenes to soften the deep agony which arises from a separation produced by death from objects deeply and tenderly loved. It is then the veil thrown over the vision of the imagination, is most blessed in its influence. Time, the "great and univer

* Doctor Darwin.

THE GREAT METROPOLIS:

sal" comforter, is thus enabled to perform its office, and sooner or later, every degree of sensibility becomes

mons."

This amusing book is presented to the American public in the cheap form of less than five weekly numbers of Mr. Theodore Foster's "Cabinet Miscellany❞— at 12 cents a number: thus reducing to little more than 50 cents, a work of which the English price, we believe, is about two dollars.

capable of regarding a separation from the objects of By the author of "Random Recollections of the House of Comits attachment with comparative composure. Their remembrance does not disturb serenity-tender and tearful sorrow having melted into gentle recollection. Yet strange to say, a dream presents them, not only with all the lineaments of real life, but calls up instantly in our bosoms the warm and glowing love, which bound us to them in the hours of happy union, and which seemed in our waking hours to have become extinct. Rien ne parait exister en vain, says one of the most philosophical of modern writers; and this law which garners up as it were, the love which can be no longer of any service here, like latent heat, to be called forth when a proper occasion is presented, taken in connection with that most benevolent provision, which dims the recollection of lost friends at the moment their remembrance is most agonizing, clearly indicate that, under the care of a paternal providence, we are training for another stage of existence-that the virtuous affections of this life do not perish here, and that in all probability the life to come does not differ wholly in kind from the present.

What if earth

Be but the shadow of heaven and things therein
Each to other like more than on earth is thought?
Par. Lost. B. V.

SONNETS

TO ******。

I

Strange doth it seem that in so brief a space,
Two hearts a change so deep, so vast should know,
As ours have felt, since scarce six moons ago
With tranquil eye I view'd thy beauteous face,
Calmly admired thy form's unequall'd grace,
And chid the half-form'd wish that thou might'st be
More than a bright but distant star to me.
Softly and sweetly from thine eloquent eyes
The light of hope dawn'd on my doubting heart,
And soon I mark'd in thy pure bosom rise
Love's answering thoughts, and to thy cheek impart
Blushes, the heart's betrayers. Now time flies
Slowly, though sweetly, till the bright day shine
Which gives thy hand to me, and binds me ever thine.

II

"The Great Metropolis," every body knows, can be no other than London: and most minutely diversified are the particulars; in which Mr. Grant has ministered to the craving curiosity of all who speak and read the English language, with regard to that great heart of English life, manners, fashions, and literature. His descriptions, however, are not topographical: it is with the moral aspects and attributes—not the physical—of London, that he has to do. He does not give the dimensions of streets or buildings; or describe the gorgeousness, or the relative positions, of palaces, or churches, or Tower, or Monument, or squares. But, after a rapid and graphic view of those visible circumstances which would soonest catch an observant and philosophic eye upon a general survey of the city from some aerial station above it-were such a stand attainablehe carries his reader to the Theatres; introduces him (without danger of his being black-balled) into the Clubs; plunges with him into the Gaming Houses, and shews him the fiends who tenant those "Hells;" chaperones him then, through the three classes of Metropolitan Society-the Higher, Middling, and Lower; and lastly, details (too minutely perhaps, but very entertainingly) the condition and statistics of the newspaper and periodical Press.

It is in this last one of his walks, that we (from professional sympathy, perhaps) accompany him with most pleasure: and we shall give, in a condensed form, a few of the many particulars which have so interested us.

The whole number of periodical publications in London, from quarterly Reviews down to daily newspapers, is fifty nine; every one of which, Mr. Grant mentions by name, describing its moral, intellectual, and political (or religious) character, its age, price, editor, chief contributors, and extent of circulation. The daily papers are eleven; weekly papers thirty,-viz. five literary, and twenty five political or religious; quarterly reviews, five; monthly Reviews or Magazines, thirteen.

There is a remarkable preponderance, of the Press, in favor of liberal principles, in politics. On the liberal side are seven daily, and thirteen weekly papers; namely, 'The Morning Chronicle,'-"The Morning Advertiser,' 'The Constitutional,'-'The Globe,''Courier,'-'Sun,'-and 'True Sun;'-'The Examiner,'-'The Spectator,'-'The Observer,'-'Bell's Life in London,'-'The Weekly Dispatch'-'Bell's New Weekly Messenger'--'The Atlas'--'The Satirist'— 'The Weekly True Sun'-'The News'-'The Sunday Times' "The Patriot'-and 'The Christian Advocate;' making twenty in all: while the Conservatives, or Tories, have but four daily, and seven weekly papers; viz: "The Times'-'The Herald'-'The Post'-and 'The Standard,'-'Bell's Weekly Messenger'-'The John And in one chain of love henceforth our lives entwine. Bull'--'The Age'--'The Watchman'-'The Weekly

But oh, the bond which now unites our souls,
Is stronger far than oaths or forms can frame:
One heart is ours already; for the flame
Which love has lighted, every pulse controls
In either bosom: nothing now can be
The source of joy or sadness, pain or pleasure
To me to thee-but in an equal measure
'Tis felt by both with thrilling sympathy.
No song can please thine ear, no flower thine eye,
But straight mine eye and ear the pleasure share:
No hope thy smile awakes, no fear thy sigh,
But I that sigh must breathe, that smile must wear:
Thy future is my future; mine is thine;

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