Now Betty applied her left ear to his right, Pit-a-pat went her heart and her hair stood upright. "I hear it," cried Betty, and panted for breath; ""Tis surely a death-watch, a token of death, Alas, for us all, what terrible signs, Tray howls every night and the tabby cat whines. "To-day I was spinning, and out flew a coal And here in my bran new gown burnt a huge hole. "Three times in the candle a coffin I've seen, Which signifies death, or pray what does it mean?" "To be sure it means death," replied Will with a groan, "Some one in this house will be dead very soon. "To-day when I put on the fire an old stick, "Last night when I rode by the church-yard alone Plump into the grave-yard and sparkled like time." "Oh! dear," cried Betty, and seized Billy's arm: "Oh! forgive me," said Will, “I don't mean any harm, But as I was saying, a death will take place, For the signs are as plain as the nose on my face. "Last night as I was riding, old Dobbin ne'er scares, By the gate of the church-yard, he pricked up his ears; Then plunging aside-with a terrible snort He stared at the yew-tree and breathed very short. So I mumbled a prayer, and my bosom I crossed, For I knew that old Dobbin was spying a ghost." "Oh! Billy, don't frighten me so, Good lack, don't you think the candle burns blue?" "As blue as my coat, and I wish I may die If I don't smell brimstone." "Oh! dear, so do I." Each started and screamed, but sad to relate, And now there was barking, and mewing, and biting, They saw him half-clothed and blacker than night, Old Cuffy replied, with a most ludicrous stare, "Why, I'se not de debbil, I'se Cuffy," "Why so you are!" Thus ended the uproar, and thus ends the wrong; In short, to be brief, one should never be long. FORTITUDE OF THE INDIAN CHARACTER. A party of the Seneca Indians came to war against the Katawbas, bitter enemies to each other. In the woods the former discovered a sprightly warrior belonging to the latter, hunting in their usual light dress: on his perceiving them, he sprang off for a hollow rock four or five miles distant, as they intercepted him from running homeward. He was so extremely swift, and skilful with the gun, as to kill seven of them in the running fight before they were able to surround and take him. They carried him to their country in sad triumph: but though he had filled them with uncommon grief and shame for the loss of so many of their kindred, yet the love of martial virtue induced them to treat him, during their long journey, with a great deal more civility than if he had acted the part of a coward. The women and children, when they met him at their several towns, beat him and whipped him in as severe a manner as the occasion required, according to their law of justice; and at last he was formally condemned to die by the fiery torture. It might reasonably be imagined that what he had for some time gone through by being fed with a scanty hand, a tedious march, lying at night on the bare ground, exposed to the changes of the weather, with his arms and legs extended in a pair of rough stocks, and suffering such punishment on his entering into their hostile towns, as a prelude to those sharper torments to which he was destined, would have so impaired his health, and affected his imagination, as to have sent him to his long sleep, out of the way of any more sufferings. Probably this would have been the case with the major part of white people under similar circumstances; but I never knew this with any of the Indians; and this cool-headed, brave warrior, did not deviate from their rough lessons of martial virtue, but acted his part so well as to surprise and sorely vex his numerous enemies: for when they were taking him unpinioned, in their wild parade, to the place of torture, which lay near the river, he suddenly dashed down those who stood in his way, sprung off, and plunged into the water, swimming underneath like an otter, only rising to take breath, till he reached the opposite shore. He ascended the steep bank, but though he had good reason to be in a hurry, as many of the enemy were in the water, and others running, like blood-hounds, in pursuit of him, and the bullets flying around him from the time he took to the river, yet his heart did not allow him to leave them abruptly. He chose to take leave in a formal manner, in return for the extraordinary favors they had done, and intended to do him. So stopping a moment, he bid them defiance, in the genuine style of Indian gallantry, he put up the shrill warwhoop, as his last salute, till some more convenient opportunity offered, and darted off in the manner of a beast broke loose from its torturing enemies. He continued his speed, so as to run, by about midnight of the same day, as far as his eager pursuers were two days in reaching. There he rested, till he happily discovered five of those Indians who had pursued him: he lay hid a little way off their camp, till they were sound asleep. Every circumstance of his situation occurred to him and inspired him with heroism. He was naked, torn, and bungry, and his enraged enemies were come up with him; but there was everything to relieve his wants, and a fair opportunity to save his life, and get great honor and sweet revenge by cutting them off. Resolution, a convenient spot, and sudden surprise, would effect the main object of all his wishes and hopes. He accordingly crept, took one of their tomahawks, and killed them all on the spot, clothed himself, and took a choice gun, and as much ammunition and provision as he could well carry in a running march. He set off afresh with a light heart, and did not sleep for several successive nights, except when he reclined as usual, a little before day, with his back to a tree. As it were by instinct, when he found he was free from the pursuing enemy, he made directly to the very place where he had been taken prisoner and doomed to the fiery torture, after having killed seven of his enemies. The bodies of these he dug up, burnt them to ashes, and went home in safety with singular triumph. Other pursuing enemies came, on the evening of the second day, to the camp of their dead people, when the sight gave them a greater shock than they ever had known before. In their chilled war council they concluded that as he had done such surprising things in his defence before he was captivated and even after that in his condition, he must surely be an enemy wizard; and that, as he was now well armed, he would destroy them all should they continue the pursuit; they therefore very prudently returned home. DEFENCE OF LITERARY STUDIES IN MEN OF BUSINESS. Among the cautions which prudence and worldly wisdom inculcate on the young, or at least among those sober truths which experience often pretends to have acquired, is that danger which is said to result from the pursuit of letters and of science, in men destined for the labors of business, for the active exertions of professional life. The abstraction of learning, the speculations of science, and the visionary excursions of fancy, are fatal, it is said, to the study of common objects, to the habits of plodidng industry which ordinary business demands. The fineness of mind which is created or increased by the study of letters, or the admiration of the arts, is supposed to incapacitate a man for the drudgery by which professional eminence is gained; as a nicely tempered edge applied to a coarse and rugged material is unable to perform what a more common instrument would have successfully achieved. A young man destined for law or commerce is advised to look only into his folio of precedents, or his method of book-keeping; and dulness is pointed to his homage, as that benevolent goddess, under whose protection the honors of station and the blessings of opulence are to be attained; while learning and genius are proscribed as leading their votaries to barren indigence and merited neglect. In doubting the truth of these assertions, I think I shall not entertain any hurtful degree of skepticism, because the general current of opinion seems of late years to have set too strongly in the contrary direction: and one may endeavor to prop the falling cause of literature without being accused of blamable or dangerous partiality. In the examples which memory and experience produce of idleness, of dissipation, and of poverty, brought on by indulgence of literary or poetical enthusiasm, the evidence must necessarily be on one side of the question only. Of the few whom learning or genius has led astray, the ill success or the ruin is marked by the celebrity of the sufferer. Of the many who have been as dull as they were profligate, and as ignorant |