followed her husband through a land of strangers, and over the pathless sea; through the crowded city and the bustling camp, till she found him stretched on the 80 battle field. Perhaps she came in time to receive his parting sigh, and her spirit, quitting its worn-out tenement of clay, winged its way with his to Him who gave them being. With the assistance of some of my comrades, I consigned this hapless pair to the earth, wrapped 85 in the same military cloak; and enveloping the infant, this dear child of my adoption, in my plaid, I returned to the spot where our regiment lay.

EXERCISE 42.

The Righteous never forsaken.-NEW YORK SPECTATOR. It was Saturday night, and the widow of the Pine Cottage sat by her blazing fagots, with her five tattered children at her side, endeavouring by listening to the artlessness of their prattle, to dissipate the heavy gloom 5 that pressed upon her mind. For a year, her own feeble hands had provided for her helpless family, for she had no supporter: she thought of no friend in all the wide, unfriendly world around. But that mysterious Providence, the wisdom of whose ways are above human com10 prehension, had visited her with wasting sickness, and her little means had become exhausted. It was now, too, mid-winter, and the snow lay heavy and deep through all the surrounding forests, while storms still seemed gathering in the heavens, and the driving wind roared 15 amidst the bounding pines, and rocked her puny mansion.

The last herring smoked upon the coals before her; it was the only article of food she possessed, and no wonder her forlorn, desolate state brought up in her lone bo20 som all the anxieties of a mother, when she looked upon her children; and no wonder, forlorn as she was, if she suffered the heart swellings of despair to rise, even though she knew that he whose promise is to the widow and to the orphan, cannot forget his word. Providence had 25 many years before taken from her her eldest son, who went from his forest home, to try his fortune on the high seas, since which she heard no note or tidings of him;

and in latter time, had, by the hand of death, deprived her of the companion and staff of her earthly pilgrimage, 30 in the person of her husband. Yet to this hour she had been upborne; she had not only been able to provide for her little flock, but had never lost an opportunity of, ministering to the wants of the miserable and destitute.

The indolent may well bear with poverty, while the 35 ability to gain sustenance remains. The individual who has but his own wants to supply, may suffer with forti tude the winter of want; his affections are not wounded, his heart not wrung. The most desolate in populous cities may hope, for charity has not quite closed her 40 hand and heart, and shut her eyes on misery. But the industrious mother of helpless and depending childrenfar from the reach of human charity, has none of these to console her. And such an one was the widow of the Pine cottage; but as she bent over the fire, and took 45 up the last scanty remnant of food, to spread before her children, her spirits seemed to brighten up, as by some sudden and mysterious impulse, and Cowper's beautiful lines came uncalled across her mind

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust him for his grace;

Behind a frowning Providence
He hides a smiling face.

The smoked herring was scarcely laid upon the table, when a gentle rap at the door, and loud barking of a 55 dog, attracted the attention of the family. The children flew to open it, and a weary traveller, in tattered garments, and apparently indifferent health, entered and begged a lodging, and a mouthful of food; said he "it is now twenty-four hours since I tasted bread." The 60 widow's heart bled anew as under a fresh complication of distresses; for her sympathies lingered not 'round her fireside. She hesitated not even now; rest and share of all she had she proffered to the stranger. "We shall not be forsaken;" said she, "or suffer deeper for an 65 act of charity."

The traveller drew near the board-but when he saw the scanty fare, he raised his eyes towards Heaven with astonishment" and is this all your store?" said he"and a share of this do you offer to one you know not? 70 then never saw I charity before! but madam," said he,

continuing, "do you not wrong your children by giving a part of your last mouthful to a stránger?" "Ah," said the poor widow, and the tear drops gushed into her eyes as she said it, "I have a boy, a darling son, somewhere 75 on the face of the wide world, unless Heaven has taken him away, and I only act towards you, as I would that others should act towards hìm. God, who sent manna from heaven can provide for us as he did for Israeland how should I this night offend him, if my son should 80 be a wanderer, destitute as you, and he should have provided for him a home, even poor as this-were I to turn you unrelieved away."

The widow ended, and the stranger springing from his seat, clasped her in his arms- "God indeed has 85 provided your son a home-and has given him wealth to reward the goodness of his benefactress-my mother! oh my mother!"

It was her long lost son; returned to her bosom from the Indies. He had chosen that disguise that he might 90 the more completely surprise his family; and never was surprise more perfect, or followed by a sweeter cup of joy. That humble residence in the forest was exchanged for one comfortable, and indeed beautiful, in the val ley, and the widow lived long with her dutiful son, in 95 the enjoyment of worldly plenty, and in the delightful employments of virtue, and at this day the passer by is pointed to the willow that spreads its branches above her grave.

EXERCISE 43.

To Printers.-FISHER AMES.

It seems as if newspaper wares were made to suit a market, as much as any other. The starers, and wonderers, and gapers, engross a very large share of the at tention of all the sons of the type. Extraordinary events 5 multiply upon us surprisingly. Gazettes, it is seriously to be feared, will not long allow room to any thing, that is not loathsome or shocking. A newspaper is pronounced to be very lean and destitute of matter, if it contains no account of murders, suicides, prodigies or 10 monstrous births.

Some of these tales excite horror, and others disgust; yet the fashion reigns, like a tyrant, to relish wonders, and almost to relish nothing else. Is this a reasonable

taste; or is it monstrous and worthy of ridicule? Is the 15 history of Newgate the only one worth reading? Are oddities only to be hunted? Pray tell us, men of ink, if our free presses are to diffuse information, and we, the poor ignorant people, can get it no other way than by newspapers, what knowledge we are to glean from the 20 blundering lies, or the tiresome truths about thunder storms, that, strange to tell! kill oxen or burn barns? The crowing of a hen is supposed to forebode cuckoldom; and the ticking of a little bug in the wall threatens yellow fever. It seems really as if our news25 papers were busy to spread superstition.-Omens, and dreams, and prodigies, are recorded, as if they were worth minding. One would think our gazettes were intended for Roman readers, who were silly enough to make account of such things. We ridicule the papists 30 for their credulity; yet, if all the trumpery of our papers is believed, we have little right to laugh at any set of people on earth; and if it is not believed, why is it printed?

%

Surely, extraordinary events have not the best title to 35 our studious attention. To study nature or man, we ought to know things that are in the ordinary course, not the unaccountable things that happen out of it.

This country is said to measure seven hundred mil lions of acres, and it is inhabited by almost six millions 40 of people. Who can doubt, then, that a great many crimes will be committed, and a great many strange things will happen every seven years? There will be thunder showers, that will split tough white oak trees; and hail storms, that will cost some farmers the full 45 amount of twenty shillings to mend their glass windows; there will be taverns, and boxing matches, and elections, and gouging, and drinking, and love, and murder, and running in debt, and running away, and suicide. Now, if a man supposes eight, or ten, or twenty dozen 50 of these amusing events will happen in a single year, is he not just as wise as another man, who reads fifty columns of amazing particulars, and, of course, knows that they have happened?

This state has almost one hundred thousand dwelling 55 houses: it would be strange, if all of them should escape fire for twelve months. Yet is it very profitable for a man to become a deep student of all the accidents, by which they are consumed? He should take good care of his chimney corner, and put a fender before the 60 back-log before he goes to bed. Having done this, he may let his aunt or grandmother read by day, or meditate by night, the terrible newspaper articles of fires.

Some of the shocking articles in the papers raise sim ple, and very simple, wonder; some, terror; and some, 65 horror and disgust. Now what instruction is there in these endless wonders?-Who is the wiser or happier for reading the accounts of them? On the contrary, do they not shock tender minds, and addle shallow brains? Worse than this happens; for some eccentric minds are 70 turned to mischief by such accounts, as they receive of troops of incendiaries burning our cities: the spirit of imitation is cortagious; and boys are found unaccountably bent to do as men do. When the man flew from the steeple of the North church fifty years ago, every 75 unlucky boy thought of nothing but flying from a signpost.

EXERCISE 44.

Washington.-Pierpont.

The following original hymn was sung at the celebration on the 22nd of February, in the Old South Church, Boston.]

To thee, beneath whose eye
Each circling century

Obedient rolls,

Our nation, in its prime,

Looked with a faith sublime,

And trusted in "the time

That tried men's souls-››

When, from this gate of heaven,*
People and priest were driven

*The Old South Church was taken possession of by the British, while they held Boston, and converted into barracks for the cavalry, the pews being cut up for fuel, or used in constructing stalls for the horses.