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See those pallid cheeks of sorrow,
And those limbs which know no rest.
Once, those eyes were fraught with pleasure,
Once, those cheeks were coral red,
These more treacherous beauties fled.
Once, proud Fortune on him smiled,
And bright Hope his thoughts did train;
“ Maddening fury" seiz'd his brain.
Now he roams poor and unfriended,
None his wayward steps to guide,
All his wants are unsupply'd.
So speak those tatter'd garments on him,
And his shaggy matted hair,
FOR THE PORT FOLIO.
Lines written on a blank leaf of “Downman's Infancy”-a didactic Poem, pre
sented to a lady a few weeks after her marriage.
If, much lov'a fair! who late with tremb'ling foot,
the threshold of that hallow'd fane
With prattling pledges of your mutual love;
With ample recompense for all your care.
FOR THE PORT FOLIO-INDIAN ELOQUENCE.
General John S. Eustace, with whom I was intimately acquainted for some time, previous to his death, and who formerly held a major general's commission in the French armies, gave me the following as a genuine copy of the celebrated speech of Logan, the Mingo chief. He informed me that he was acquainted wit' lord Dunmore in Virginia, and frequently an inmate of his house, and that the speech, as I now send it to you, was presented to him personally by lord Dunmore.
I do not consider myself an accurate judge of Indian eloquence, yet it appears to me, that the speech, as published by Mr. Jefferson, is not worthy of those high encomiums which he bestows
upon it. I leave it with you to judge of the correctness of my opinion.
Yours, &c. Luzerne, September ilth, 1810.
Speech of Logan, a Mingo chief, before lord Dunmore, formerly
governor of Virginia. My cabin, since first I had one of my own, has ever been open to any white man, who wanted shelter: my spoils of hunting, since first I began to range these woods, have I ever freely imparted to appease his hunger and clothe his nakedness; but, what have I seen? what! but that at my return at night, and laden with spoil, my numerous family lie bleeding on the ground, by the hands of those who had found my little hut a certain refuge from the inclement storm; who had eaten my food, and covered themselves with my skins: what have I seen? what! but that those dear little mouths, for which I had sweated the live-long day, when I returned at eve to fill them, had not one word to thank
toil! What could I resolve upon? my blood boiled within me, and my heart leapt up to my mouth, nevertheless I bid my tomahawk be quiet, and lie at rest for that war, because I thought the great men of your country sent them not to do it. Not long afterwards, some of your men invited our tribe to cross the river and bring their venison with them; they, unsuspicious of design, came as they had been invited; the white men then made them drunk, killed them, and turned their knives even against the women. Was not my sister among them? was she not scalped by the hands of that man, whom sh had taught how to escape his enemies, when they were scenting out his track? What could I resolve upon? my blood now boiled thrice hotter than before, and thrice again my heart leapt up to my mouth, no longer did I bid
my tomahawk be quiet, and lie at rest, for that war, because I no longer thought the great men of your country sent them not to do it. I sprang from my cabin to avenge their blood, which I have fully done this war, by shedding yours from your coldest to your hottest sun; thus revenged I am now for peace, and have advised most of my countrymen to be so toonay! what is more,
I have offered, and still offer myself as a victim, being ready to
Think not that I am afraid to die, for I have no relations left to
On Sunday, January 20th, at his seat near Trenton, New jersey, departed this life, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, the reverend' HENRY WADDELL, D. D. rector of St. Michael's Church; in the cemetery of which his body was deposited on the 22d.
Dr. WADDELL had received a liberal education, and graduated at the University of Pennsylvania, then the College and Academy of Philadelphia, after which, he applied himself to the study of the law, of which he was, for several years, an able and successful practitioner. His mind however, being of a serious
“ His God sustain'd him in his final hour!
Young's N. T.
Died on Saturday, the 22d of Dec. 1810, after a short illness, in the 63d year of her age, Mrs. MARY Weed, relict of the late Elijah Weed, esq. of this city. This venerable and truly pious lady, was deeply impressed with the importance and worth of her soul in early life; which enabled her through the whole tenor of her protracted existence, to place a conscious rectitude on the merits and atonement of her Saviour. Impelled by the powerful influence of that true religion of which she was a firm and zealous advocate, constrained by the love, and animated by the example of her blessed Lord, she went about liberally dispensing donations and assistance to those who were deserving of them, particularly to the virtuous poor, to whom she was a distinguished friend and benefactor. It would be difficult to point out all those inestimable qualities which she possessed; they will long live in the memory of her relatives and friends.
Her remains were solemnly interred on the Monday following, in the first baptist church burial ground, attended by a numerous concourse of friends and relatives.
“ This is the bud of being,