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bitter death of poverty, exile, the dungeon, and the broken heart; the whole productive power of a mighty kingdom extinguished for half a century; fifteen millions of human beings withdrawn from the general stock of European cultivation, and branded into hewers of wood and drawers of water, the helots of the modern world! were a price that the remorseless lust of dominion never stopped to contemplate. Its armies were ordered to march, and the fire and sword executed the law. If the late French Revolution could just fy but slight difference of opinions among sincere men, the Polish Revolution can justify none.

It is a rising, not of the people against their monarch, but of the oppressed against the oppressor, of the native against the stranger, of the betrayed against the betrayer, of the slave against the tyrant; of a nation, the victim of the basest treachery and the most cruel suffering in the annals of mankind, against the traitor, the spoiler, the remorseless author of their suffering. Their cause is a triumph in itself; and may the great Being who "hateth iniquity, and terribly judgeth the oppressor," shield them in the day of struggle, and give a new hope to mankind by the new victory of their freedom!


NOTHING can be more unfounded than the objection which has been taken, in limine, by persons, well meaning perhaps, certainly narrow-minded, against the study of natural philosophy, and indeed against all science, that it fosters in its cultivators an undue and over onceit, leads


wcemng senthem to doubt the immortality of the soul, and to scoff at revealed religion. Its natural effect, we may confidently assert, on every wellconstituted mind, is and must be the direct contrary. No doubt, the testimony of natural reason, on whatever exercised, must of necessity stop short of those truths which it is the object of revelation to make known; but, while it places the existence and principal attributes of a Deity on such grounds as to render doubt absurd, and atheism ridiculous, it unquestionably opposes no natural or necessary obstacle to further progress on the contrary, by cherishing as a vital principle an unbounded spirit of inquiry, and ardency of expectation, it unfetters the mind from prejudices of every kind, and leaves it open and free to every impression of a higher nature which it is susceptible of receiving, guarding only against enthusiasm and self-deception by a habit of

strict investigation, but encouraging, rather than suppressing, everything that can offer a prospect or a hope beyond the present obscure and unsatisfactory state. The character of the true philosopher is to hope all things not impossible, and to believe all things not unreasonable.

He who has seen obscurities which appeared impenetrable in physical and mathematical science suddenly, dispelled, and the most barren and unpromising fields of inquiry converted, as if by inspiration, into rich and inexhaustible springs of knowledge and power on a simple change of our point of view, or by merely bringing to bear on them some principle which it never occurred before to try, will surely be the very last to acquiesce in any dispiriting prospects of either the present or future destinies of mankind; while, on the other hand, the boundless views of intellectual and moral as well as material relations which open on him on all hands in the course of these pursuits, the knowledge of the trivial place he occupies in the scale of creation, and the sense continually pressed upon him of his own weakness and incapacity to suspend or modify the slightest movement of

the vast machinery he sees in action around him, must effectually convince him that humility of pretension, no less than confidence of hope, is what best becomes his character. But while we thus vindicate the study of natural philosophy from a charge at one time formidable from the pertinacity and acrimony with which it was urged, and still occasionally brought forward to the distress and disgust of every well-constituted mind, we must take care that the testimony afforded by science to religion, be its extent or value what it may, shall be at least independent, unbiased, and spontaneous. We do not here allude to such reasoners as would make all nature bend to their narrow interpretations of obscure and difficult passages in the sacred writings such a course might well become the persecutors of Galileo and the other bigots of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but can only be adopted by dreamers in the present age. But, without going these lengths, it is no uncommon thing to find persons earnestly attached to science, and anxious for its promotion, who yet manifest a morbid sensibility on points of this kind,-who exult and applaud when

any fact starts up explanatory (as they suppose) of some scriptural allusion, and who feel pained and disappointed when the general course of discovery in any department of science runs wide of the notions with which particular passages in the Bible may have impressed themselves. To persons of such a frame of mind it ought to suffice to remark, on the one hand, that truth can never be opposed to truth; and, on the other, that error is only to be effectually confounded by searching deep and tracing it to its source. Nevertheless, it were much to be wished that such persons, estimable and excellent as they for the most part are, before they throw the weight of their applause or discredit into the scale of scientific opinion on such grounds, would reflect, first, that the credit and respectability of any evidence may be destroyed by tampering with its honesty; and, secondly, that this very disposition of mind implies a lurking mistrust in its own principles, since the grand and indeed only character of truth is its capability of enduring the test of universal experience, and coming unchanged out of every possible form of fair discussion."


WHEN Ojeda sailed on his second voyage to America, in 1502, the Spanish Government granted him power to "colonise Coquibacoa,and, as a recompense, he was to enjoy one half of the proceeds of its territory, provided the half did not exceed 300,000 maravedies: all beyond that amount was to go to the crown. A principal reason, however, for granting this government and those privileges to Ojeda, was that, in his previous voyage, he had met with English adventurers on a voyage of discovery in the neighborhood of Coquibacoa, at which the jealousy of the sovereigns had taken the alarm. They were anx

ious, therefore, to establish a resolute and fighting commander like Ojeda upon the outpost; and they instructed him to set up the arms of Castile and Leon in every place he visited, as a signal of discovery and possession, and to put a stop to the intrusions of the English."

Ojeda's whole career is beyond a romance, above Proceeding as directed, he landed on the coast of Carthagena; and "when the friars had read a pious manifesto, Ojeda made signs of amity to the natives, and held up glittering presents. They had already suffered, however, from the cruelties of white men, and were not to be won by kindness,


On the contrary, they brandished flames. Seventy Indians were made weapons, sounded their conchs, captive and sent to the ships, and and prepared to make battle. Juan Ojeda, regardless of the remonde la Cosa saw the rising choler of strances of Juan de la Cosa, contiOjeda, and knew his fiery impa- nued his rash pursuit of the fugitives tience. He again entreated him to through the forest. In the dusk of abandon these hostile shores, and the evening they arrived at a vilreminded him of the venomous wea- lage called Yurbaco, the inhabipons of the enemy. It was all in tants of which had fled to the mounvain: Ojeda confided blindly in the tains with their wives and children protection of the Virgin. Putting and principal effects. The Spanup, as usual, a short prayer to his iards, imagining that the Indians patroness, he drew his weapon, were completely terrified and disbraced his buckler, and charged persed, now roved in quest of booty furiously upon the savages. Juan among the deserted houses, which de la Cosa followed as heartily as if stood distant from each other, burithe battle had been of his own ed among the trees. While they seeking. The Indians were soon were thus scattered, troops of sarouted, à number killed, and seve- vages rushed forth, with furious ral taken prisoners; on their per- yells, from all parts of the forest. sons were found plates of gold, but The Spaniards endeavored to gather of an inferior quality. Flushed by together and support each other, this triumph, Ojeda took several of but every little party was surroundthe prisoners as guides, and pursu- ed by a host of foes. They fought ed the flying enemy four leagues with desperate bravery; but for into the interior. He was followed, once their valor and their iron aras usual, by his faithful lieutenant, mor were of no avail; they were the veteran La Cosa, continually overwhelmed by numbers, and sank remonstrating against his useless beneath war-clubs and poisoned artemerity, but hardily seconding him rows. Ojeda on the first alarm in the most hare-brained perils. collected a few soldiers, and enHaving penetrated far into the sconced himself within a small enforest, they came to a strong hold closure, surrounded by palisades. of the enemy, where a numerous Here he was closely besieged, and force was ready to receive them, galled by flights of arrows. He armed with clubs, lances, arrows, threw himself on his knees, covered and bucklers. Ojeda led his men himself with his buckler, and being to the charge with the old Castilian small and active, managed to prowar-cry, Santiago!' The savages tect himself from the deadly shower; soon took to flight. Eight of their but all his companions were slain bravest warriors threw themselves by his side, some of them perishing into a cabin, and plied their bows in frightful agonies. At this fearful and arrows so vigorously, that the moment the veteran La Cosa, havSpaniards were kept at bay. Oje- ing heard of the peril of his comda cried shame upon his followers mander, arrived, with a few followto be daunted by eight naked men. ers, to his assistance. Stationing Stung by this reproach, an old Cas- himself at the gate of the palisades, tilian soldier rushed through a the brave Biscayan kept the savages shower of arrows and forced the at bay until most of his men were door of the cabin, but received a slain, and he himself was severely shaft through the heart, and fell wounded. Just then Ojeda sprang dead on the threshold. Ojeda, fu- forth like a tiger into the midst of rious at the sight, ordered fire to be the enemy, dealing his blows on set to the combustible edifice; in a every side. La Cosa would have moment it was in a blaze, and the seconded him, but was crippled by eight warriors perished in the his wounds. He took refuge with


the remnant of his men in an Indian cabin; the straw roof of which he aided them to throw off, lest the enemy should set it on fire. Here he defended himself until all his comrades, but one, were destroyed. The subtle poison of his wounds at length overpowered him, and he sank to the ground. Feeling death at hand, he called to his only surviving companion. 'Brother,' said he, since God hath protected thee from harm, sally forth and fly, and if ever thou shouldst see Alonzo de Ojeda, tell him of my fate!' Thus fell the hardy Juan de la Cosa, faithful and devoted to the very last; nor can we refrain from pausing to pay a passing tribute to his memory. He was acknowledged by his contemporaries to be one of the ablest of those gallant Spanish navigators who first explored the way to the New World. But it is by the honest and kindly qualities of his heart that his memory is most endeared to us; it is, above all, by that loyalty and friendship displayed in this his last and fatal expedition. Warmed by his attachment for a more youthful and a hot-headed adventurer, we see this wary veteran of the seas forgetting his usual prudence and the lessons of his experience, and embarking heart and - hand, purse and person, in the wild enterprises of his favorite. We behold him watching over him as a parent, remonstrating with him as a counsellor, but fighting by him as a partisan; following him, without hesitation, into known and needless danger, to certain death itself, and showing no other solicitude in his dying moments, but to be remembered by his friend."

Ojeda alone escaped; and afterwards being joined by Nicuesa, took a terrible revenge on the unfortunate natives.

"The two governors, no longer rivals, landed four hundred of their men and several horses, to set off with all speed for the fatal village. They approached it in the night, and, dividing their forces into two

parties, gave orders that not an Indian should be taken alive. The village was buried in deep sleep, but the woods were filled with large parrots, which, being awakened, made a prodigious clamor. The Indians, however, thinking the Spaniards all destroyed, paid no attention to these noises. It was not until their houses were assailed, and wrapped in flames, that they took the alarm. They rushed forth, some with arms, some weaponless, but were received at their doors by the exasperated Spaniards, and either slain on the spot, or driven back into the fire. Women fled wildly forth with children in their arms; but at sight of the Spaniards glittering in steel, and of the horses, which they supposed ravenous monsters, they ran back, shrieking with horror, into their burning habitations. Great was the carnage, for no quarter was shown to age or sex. Many perished by the fire, and many by the sword. When they had fully glutted their vengeance, the Spaniards ranged about for booty. While thus employed, they found the body of the unfortunate Juan de la Cosa. It was tied to a tree, but swoln and discolored in a hideous manner by the poison of the arrows with which he had been slain. This dismal spectacle had such an effect upon the common men, that not one would remain in that place during the night. Having sacked the village, therefore, they left it a smoking ruin, and returned in triumph to their ships."

But at last the bold adventurer fell into distress, and died at St. Domingo, his death serving as a wholesome comment on his life.

"He died so poor, that he did not leave money enough to provide for his interment; and so broken in spirit, that, with his last breath, he entreated his body might be buried in the monastery of San Francisco, just at the portal, in humble expiation of his past pride, that every one who entered might tread upon his grave.""

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WHAT feeling of our nature is so
universally approved, as that of
Friendship? Unlike all others, it
appears to be capable of no excess,
and to unite every suffrage in its
favor the more vehement, the more
enthusiastic it is, we applaud it the
more; and men of all climes and
habitudes, the saint, the savage, and
the sage, unite in our applauses.
It is, in fact, the great balsam of
existence, "the brook that runneth
by the way," out of which the
wearied sons of Adam may all
drink comfort and refreshment to
nerve them in the toils of life's
parched and dusty journey. It
communicates a dignity and calm
beauty to the humblest lot; and
without it the loftiest is but a shin-
ing desart.

I myself like friendship as well as any man likes it, and I feel a pleasure in reflecting that the story I am now to write will afford one well authenticated instance of that noble sentiment. Not that by this remark I mean to excite unfounded expectation, nor that I have aught very marvellous to say either about passions of the mind or exploits displaying them. I have, in truth, no moving tragedy to set forth; no deed of heroism or high adventure; nothing of your Pythias and Damon, your Theseus and Pirithous. My heroes were not Kings of Athens or Children of the Cloud; but honest Lairds of Annandale. They never braved the rage of Dionysius dooming them to die, never went down to Hades that they might flirt with Proserpine, or slaughter the mastiff Cerberus yet they were true men "in their own humble way; men tried in good and evil hap, and not found wanting; their history seems curious enough, if I can tell it rightly, to deserve some three minutes of attention from an idle man; especially in times so stupid and prosaic as these; times

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of monotony and safety, and matter of fact, where affections are measured by the tale of guineas, where people's fortunes are exalted, and their purposes achieved by the force, not of the arm or the heart, but of the spinning-jennie and the steam-engine. I proceed with my narrative.


In the early part of the last century, the parish school-house of Hoddam, a low squat building by the Edinburgh highway side, could number among its daily visitants two boys of the names of Cruthers and Jonson, who at first agreed in nothing, except in the firm determination shown by each to admit of no superior. Such a principle, maintained by one individual, might possibly have led to very pleasing results, in so far as that one was concerned maintained by two, it led to nothing but constant broils and bickerings, hard words and harder blows. Without end or number were their squabbles. every feat of scholarship or mischief, whether it were to expound the venerable Dilworth's system of arithmetic within doors, or to work some devilry without; to lead the rival gangs of "Englishmen and Scots," to clank the old kirk-bell, or venture on the highest and brittlest boughs of the ash-trees and yews that grew around, still these two were violent competitors, and by their striving far outstripped the rest. Frequently, of course, they came to sparring, in which they would exhibit all the energy and animation of Entellus and Dares, or even of Molyneux and Crib. The boy Cruthers was decidedly the better boxer; he was stronger than Jonson, could beat him whenever he chose; and in time came to choose it very often. Jonson had more of the Socratic than of the Stoic philosopher in his turn of mind: he could not say "thou

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