consent to the degrading terms of a peace dictated by his inveterate foes. He left his romantic residence to be tenanted by other and inferior beings, and withdrew from the scene of his misfortunes to the far west, where his days were ended.*

means was used to ignite the combustibles which he || Pontiac took no part in it. His spirit was too lofty to wished to use in such a conflagration. He exhibited to the other tribes a belt which he professed to have received from the King of France, with a commission to expel them. He convened a great council and related the dream of a Delaware Indian, who professed to have been conducted to a new land, and to have received A village has sprung up in the immediate neighbordirections from the Great Spirit to expel their adver- hood of the lake, which bears the name and commemsaries. He accompanied this inducement, in connec-orates to posterity the history of this great chief. It tion with others, with the most exasperating philippic contains a population of about one thousand inhabiagainst the English. By these means a cloud of dark-tants, and the reader may be assured that more wickedness was fast gathering to sweep away every thing ness has been concocted in this place, than was devised which met its wild career. on Orchard Island in the palmy days of Pontiac's ex

trees are all that mark the impress of their departed
footsteps. They have fled; and we

"Have seen their unresisting tribes,
With toilsome steps, and slow,
On through the trackless desert pass,
A caravan of woe;

Think ye the Eternal's ear is deaf,
His sleepless vision dim?
Think ye the soul's blood may not cry,
From that foe-land to him ?"

Romeo, Mich., April 15, 1841.

* History of Michigan.

1140

GENIUS IN DEATH.

Fort Detroit, of all, was considered the most impor-istence. tant post, and Pontiac reserved this to be taken by Orchard Lake is annually visited by a large number himself. Accordingly, on the 8th of May, 1763, he of people on pleasure excursions, who talk over the trapresented himself at its gates with a large body of war-ditions which have come down from former days. But riors, professing a wish to make a treaty with the com- the Indians are gone. A few graves and the applemanding officers. The negotiations commenced, and proceeded for several days. Each day Pontiac was accompanied by thirty or forty chiefs. It was his design to massacre the officers, and throw open the gates, so as to admit his men and finish the work of death. But fortunately the evening before the day appointed for this catastrophe, the design was revealed to the commandant, by a friendly Indian woman, who was in the habit of selling moccasons at the fort. This was a critical moment. No time was to be lost. The garrison was placed under arms, the guards doubled, and the officers were armed with swords and pistols. Morning came, and the Indians as usual were admitted. Pontiac inquired of the British commander the cause of this unusual appearance. He was answered that it was proper to keep the young men to their duty, lest ROUSSEAU, when dying, ordered his attendants to they should become idle and ignorant. The business place him before the window that he might once more of the council then commenced, and Pontiac proceeded behold his garden, and bid adieu to nature. Roscomto address Major Gladevin. His speech was bold and mon uttered at the moment he expired, two lines of his menacing, and his manner and gesticulations vehe- own version of Deus ira. Haller died feeling his pulse, ment; and they still became more so as he approached and when he felt it almost gone, turning to his brother the critical moment, when he was to present the belt to physician, said, "My friend, the artery ceases to beat," Major Gladevin, as the sign of action. At this time and died. Petrarch was found dead in his library, leanthe drums at the door of the council-house rolled the ing on a book. Bede died in the act of dictating. Hercharge, the guards leveled their pieces, and the officers der closed his career writing an ode to the Deity, his drew their swords from their scabbards. Pontiac was pen on the last line. Walter died repeating some a brave man he had fought in many a battle; but this lines of Virgil. Tasso's dying request of Cardinal unexpected move declared that his treachery was dis- Cynthia was indicative of the gloom which haunted covered, which entirely disconcerted him. Tradition him through life. He had one favor, he said, to resays he trembled. Major Gladevin immediately ap-quest of him, which was, that he would collect his proached the chief, and drawing aside his blanket, dis-works and commit them to the flames, especially his covered his arms. After stating his knowledge of the plot, and reproaching him for his treachery, he drove him from the fort. The chiefs immediately retired, and as soon as they had passed the gates, gave the yell and fired upon the garrison.

The siege commenced with fierceness and activity on the part of the Indians, and continued with different reverses of fortune for eleven months, when, upon the arrival of a large reinforcement of men under Gen. Broadstreet, a treaty of peace was concluded with the different tribes who had been engaged in the war.

Jerusalem Delivered. Liebnitz was found dead in his chamber with a book in his hand. Clarendon's pen dropped from his fingers when he was siezed with the palsy, which terminated his life. Chaucer ballad making. His last production he entitled “A ballad made by Geoffrey Chaucer on his death-bed, lying in great anguish." Wicherly, when dying, had his young wife brought to his bedside, and having taken her hand, in a very solemn manner said he had but one request to make of her, and that was, that she would never marry an old man again.

GREAT MEN AND GRAVE-YARDS.

Original.
GREAT MEN AND GRAVE-YARDS.

"Receding years proclaim the solemn truth,
That weak decrepid age soon follows youth-
That all created things must pass away,
Despite the golden dream of minstrel's lay."

DECAY is inscribed on the whole face of nature. The flower of the valley springs up, blooms for a time in variegated beauty, but perishes when autumn frost flings his gray livery over its tender form. The mountain oak, through whose wide-spreading branches the winds of heaven have whistled for centuries, is finally prostrated by the resistless tornado. Man himself, though proudly enthroned as the lord of creation, has the seeds of death implanted in his bosom, which, ere long, obstruct the fountains of life, and the cold waters of oblivion close for ever over his mortal remains. In the beautiful language of Horace

"Sed omnes una manet nox,

Et calcanda semel via leti."

167

and with how much reluctance we entertain the unwel come thought that the proudest monuments of human wisdom and ingenuity must perish! The language of Fenelon, addressed by Arcesius to Telemachus while searching for his father Ulysses in the séjour de la paix, or the mansion of peace, is beautiful and to the point: "Ce temps te parait éloigné: hélas! tu te trompes, mon fils; il se hâte, le voilà qui arrive: ce qui vient avec tant de rapidité n'est pas loin de toi; et le présent qui s'enfuit est déja bien loin, puisqu'il s' anéantit dans le moment que nous parlons, et ne peut plus se rapprocher. Ne compte donc jamais, mon fils, sur le présent; mais soutiens-toi dans le sentier rude et âpre de la vertu par la vue de l'avenir. Prépare-toi, par de mœurs pures et par l'amour de la justice, une place dans l' heureux séjour de la paix."*

After a few hours of melancholy pleasure spent in an antiquary's room, I sallied forth into the fields of nature, in order that the balmy air, the caroling of the winged tribe, and the gaudy dress of a Louisiana spring, might restore a proper equilibrium of feeling. The perusal of some of the original letters written But rambling from one beauty to another, ever and by distinguished men, who have long been moldering|| anon plucking the lowly violet, or casting wishful eyes in the dust, and a subsequent walk to the Protestant to the unsurpassed flower of the magnolia, I came to burying-ground, have occasioned these reflections. A the Protestant grave-yard. gentleman of this place, of distinguished ancestry, has in his possession many antique documents, "whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary," among which are some of the manuscript letters of Flamstead, || with ungrateful sensations and unpleasant gloom. It Blair, Priestly, Franklin, Hancock, Samuel Adams, and is a picturesque, romantic spot, elevated high above the others. While tracing lines penned by such great men, general level, and shaded by the honey-locust, the weepthe thought was, where are they now? Where are ing-willow, the tulip-tree, and the majestic magnolia, those men whose works have gained them an earthly together with a hundred others, hung over with Spanimmortality-men distinguished for every virtue, and||ish moss, and embellished by innumerable vines beausome of whom caused the lights of science to shine || tifully interwoven. I approached with a calm mind to with fairer luster? They are gone.

I always experienced a soothing and melancholy pleasure—a kind of divine sympathy-in visiting the silent habitations of the dead; but now it filled me

muse over the ashes of departed beings, who were once Yes, here were the tokens of friendship, in the days as young and full of hope as myself—who once whirled of "lang syne," carelessly spread before the eyes of a in the giddy round of pleasure, thoughtless of the sad stranger, of another generation, for his scrutiny. There but certain destiny which awaited them. As I entered is Flamstead, in the year 1696, writing from the Royal the grave-yard, my attention was first attracted by a Observatory to a friend, and promising, "God willing," magnificent monument of pure white marble, over to meet him at a certain place. Priestly speaks of the which waved the pliant boughs of the willow, sighing appointment of Lord North prime minister of Eng- in the breeze, and just greening for another year. I land, and mentions the American colonies in terms read the epitaph-the last tribute of friendship, and of generous sympathy. The subject of atmospheric the sadly brief history of all mankind—and walked air occupies much of his attention. Blair discourses slowly on, indulging in gloomy reflections, ever and upon belles-lettres in the style of an accomplished schol-anon stepping unwarily upon the graves of forgotar, while Franklin dwells upon electricity as a philoso- ten, perhaps unwept mortality. I beheld what is not pher enchanted with his favorite theme. The letters of usual-human bones scattered over the surface, there Hancock and Adams, though interesting, are common- to bleach beneath a southern sun-brick entombments place. decayed and fallen in, which hid not the ghastly and moldering skeleton, and rotten palisades tumbling over

To thee time seems to linger. Alas! thou deceivest thyself, my son. It makes haste. Behold it arrived. That which comes with so much rapidity is not far from thee, and

An indescribable feeling came over me while gazing on the identical hand-writing of men whose master minds wrought out a fame as lasting as the abode of the triple sisters, Liberty, Religion, and Science. Had a voice from the dead spoken, it could not have impress-the present which hastens away is already very distant, since ed a more solemn lesson than these musty and time-it annihilates itself while we speak, and can no more return. worn epistles, penned in other generations, by hands long since inanimate and powerless. Alas! with what rapidity the children of men are consigned to the tomb;

Count not, then, ever upon the present, my son; but direct thee in the rude and rugged path of virtue by the sight of the future. Prepare thee, by pure manners and by the love of justice, a place in the happy abode of peace.

THE DYING BROTHER.

Original.

ZOOLOGY.

BY PROFESSOR MERRICK.

ORDER 11.-QUADRUMANA.

ZOOLOGY.

THE animals of this order have their four extremities terminated by hands. They are peculiarly fitted by their structure for a residence "among the branches." Here is their appropriate home. Here they engage in their sports-leaping from limb to limb, and swinging by their extremities in the air. From this elevated position they attack their enemies, pelting them with dry limbs broken from the trees, and even with stones which have been taken up from the ground for that purpose. From the trees they also chiefly obtain their food, which consists mostly of fruits, buds and insects. Upon the ground their movements are somewhat awkward, as their natural position is neither erect like that of man, nor horizontal like that of quadrupeds, but intermediate or semi-erect. Several species belonging to this order, in their form, bear a striking resemblance to man. The one which makes the nearest approach to the human form is

THE CHIMPANSE.

169

Buffon describes one which he saw as "mild, affectionate, and good natured. His air was melancholy, his gait grave, his movements measured, his disposition gentle, and very different from other apes. He had neither the impatience of the Barbary ape, the maliciousness of the baboon, nor the extravagances of the monkeys. It may be alledged," he says, "that he had the benefit of instruction; but the other apes which I shall compare with him, were educated in the same manner. Signs and words alone were sufficient to make our ourang outang act, but the baboon required a cudgel, and the other apes a whip; for none of them would obey without blows. I have seen this animal present his hand to conduct the people who came to see him, and walk as gravely along with them as if he had been one of the company. I have seen him sit down at table, unfold his towel, wipe his lips, use a spoon or fork to convey his food to his mouth, pour his liquor into a glass, and make it touch that of the person who drank with him. When invited to drink tea he brought a cup and saucer, placed them on the table, put in sugar, poured out the tea, and allowed it to cool before he drank it. All these actions he performed without any other instigations than the signs or verbal orders of his master, and often of his own accord. He did no injury to any person-he even approached company with circumspection, and presented himself as if he wanted to be caressed."

The remaining species of the ape race, which are exceedingly numerous, present a great variety in size, form, habits, and dispositions. They are generally active, imitative, and mischievous. It is said that some species live in communities, have their laws, and public officers, and conduct their affairs much "after the manner of men." The quariba is celebrated for his pow

Of this animal, however, less perhaps is known than of almost any other species belonging to the race. No perfect specimen has ever reached Europe or this country. The following description of one that was kept some months at Sierra Leone is given by Mr. Wadstrom. "He was nearly two feet high, but the full stature is about five feet. He was covered with black hair, long and thick on the back, but short and thin upon the other parts of the body, except the face, which was bare. His hands and head resembled an old black man, only that the hair upon his head was straight. He ate, drank, slept, and sat at table like a human being. At first heers of oratory. Marcgrave, who is said to be a writer crept on all fours, on the outside of his hands, but when grown larger, he endeavored to go erect, supporting himself by a stick. He was melancholy, but always good natured."

THE OURANG OUTANG

This is

is next in order in his resemblance to man.
the celebrated wild man of the woods. He is larger
than the chimpanse, measuring from seven and a half
to eight feet in height. His strength is very great-
equal to that of three or four men. This remarkable
animal is said to build a rude shelter in the tops of the
trees, under which he sleeps. Like the chimpanse, he
is of a melancholy disposition-little disposed to frolic,
even when young. Pyrard, a French traveler, says
that "in the province of Sierra Leone there is a species
so strong limbed, and so industrious, that when prop-
erly trained and fed, they work like servants-that they
generally walk on the two hind feet-that they pound
substances in a mortar-that they go to bring water
from the river in a small pitcher, which they carry full
on their heads. When they arrive at the door, if the
pitchers are not soon taken off they allow them to fall;
and when they perceive them overturned and broken,
they weep and lament."

Vol. I.-22

of the first authority, and a great naturalist, says that

sometimes one mounts on a higher branch, the rest seat themselves beneath: the first begins as if it was to harangue, and sets up so loud and sharp a howl, that a person at a distance would think that a hundred joined in the cry. After a certain space, he gives a signal with his hand, when the whole assembly joins in chorus; but on another signal is silent, and the orator finishes his address."

Others are often very troublesome on account of their depredations upon cultivated fields and gardens, and the ingenuity manifested in their modus operandi is sometimes quite remarkable. When a melon patch is to be plundered, a line is formed between it and the forest. The melons are then passed along the line until all are safely deposited at the farther end. Bosman, speaking of the thefts of the monkeys of Guinea, says that "they will take in each paw one or two stalks of millet, as many under their arms, and two or three in their mouth, and thus laden hop away upon their hind legs; but if pursued they fling all away except what they have in their mouths, that it may not impede their flight. They are very nice in the choice of their millet-examine every stalk, and if they do not

like it fling it away; so that this delicacy does more || structure, the ape must move like man; but the same harm to the fields than their thievery." motions imply not that he acts from imitation." I shall reserve some farther remarks upon this subject for an article on instinct.

Original.
TWILIGHT.

"Tis evening hour, the sun's last ray
Rests faintly on the mountain's brow-
The moon succeeds the orb of day,
And all is quiet now."

WHAT emotions are sometimes awakened by the

It is generally supposed that the animals of this order are more inclined to imitate the actions of man than any other. Among the numerous anecdotes which are related illustrating this propensity, the following may be given. A clergyman had a favorite ape, which on one occasion, unobserved, followed him to the church, and during the prayer secured a place upon the canopy directly above the head of the speaker. Here he carefully observed and as closely imitated the movements of the latter. Not a nod of the head or motion of the arm escaped him. During the discourse the clergyman noticed an undue levity manifesting itself among his hearers. He did not fail to adminis- evening twilight! As the fading beams of day disapter an appropriate reproof, still to his grief and aston-pear, the clouds mingle slowly, as if reluctant to obishment the risibility of his congregation became evi- scure the cheerful aspect of nature, while animate exdently more and more excited. Again with earnest-istence appears silently sinking to rest. Nature seems ness and a degree of violence in his manner, he urged the impropriety of such deportment in such a place. With equal energy this was seconded by the mimic preacher over his head. The most serious could refrain no longer; and order only was restored by directing the attenion of the astounded clergyman to the cause of what to him appeared as unaccountable.

Hope, like the twilight of the dawn, crimsons the
cheek of expectation. The heart beating high with
anticipation hails the morn, and the note of joy invokes
us to the sunny bower. Invigorated by the cool breeze
and the fresh dews of morning, we gaze on the fair
sky, or mark the clouds that vail its glory, which, like
our own brief sorrows, seem few and transitory. The
evening star points us to our destined home, and one
could gaze,

"Till life's last glimmering ray of light is fled,
And hushed the last deep beating of the heart."
ZELIA.

Worthington, Ohio.

to harmonize with the deep feelings of the heart. The wild waves of passion are hushed, and life's stirring scenes become quiet. With nameless feelings we gaze upon these quiet scenes as they fade from sight. Fain would we bid them linger; but resistless time bears them away on its sweeping tide, and we reluctantly behold them sink beneath its billows. Then hope The intelligence of the ape race has, unquestiona-springs up in the heart, and bids us look forward to the bly, been for the most part over-rated. Upon this sub-morning, and hail the approach of other happy hours. ject Buffon discourseth in the following manner: "In fine, if there were a scale by which we could descend from human nature to that of the brutes, and if the essence of this nature consisted entirely in the form of the body, and depended on its organization, the ourang outang would approach nearer to man than any other animal. Placed in the second rank of beings, he would make the other animals feel his superiority, and oblige them to obey him. If the principle of imitation, by which he seems to mimic human actions, were the result of thought, this ape would be still farther removed from the brutes, and have a greater affinity to man. But the interval which separates them is immense. Mind, reflection, and language depend not on figure or the organization of the body. These are endowments peculiar to man. Though he counterfeits every human movement, he performs no action which is characteristic of man, no action that has the same principle or design. With regard to imitation, which appears to be the most striking characteristic of the ape kind, and which the vulgar have attributed to him as a peculiar talent, before we decide, it is necessary to inquire whether this imitation be spontaneous or forced. Does the ape imitate us from inclination, or because, without any exertion of the will, he feels the capacity of doing it? I appeal to all those who have examined this animal without prejudice; and I am convinced that they will agree with me that there is nothing voluntary in this imitation. The ape, having arms and hands,| uses them as we do, without thinking of us. The similarity of his members and organs necessarily produces movements, and sometimes succession of movements, which resemble ours. Being endowed with the human

POWER OF MUSIC.

BY REV. J. PIERPONT.

O'ER the cleft sea, the storm in fury rides:
Israel is safe, and Egypt tempts the tides:
Her host, descending, meets a wat❜ry grave,
And o'er her monarch rolls the refluent wave.
The storm is hushed: the billows foam no more,
But sink in smiles:-there's music on the shore.
On the wide waste of waters, dies that air
Unheard; for all is death and coldness there.
But see! the robe that brooding Silence throws
O'er Shur reclining in profound repose,

Is rent, and scattered, by the burst of praise,
That swells the song th' astonish'd Hebrews raise.
That rending anthem on the wild was flung,
From Miriam's timbrel and from Moses' tongue:
The first to Liberty that e'er was sung.