strongest reason to believe that, but for her patronage, the anniversary cannon of the fourth of July would never have resounded throughout the United States. Is it not probable that this sensible and amiable woman, perceiving the superiority of the Europeans, foreseeing the probability of the subjugation of her countrymen, and anxious, as well to soften their destiny as to save the needless effusion of blood, desired, by her marriage with Mr. Rolfe, to hasten the abolition of all distinction between Indians and white men; to bind their interests and affections by the nearest and most endearing ties, and to make them regard themselves, as one people, the children of the same great family? If such were her wise and benevolent views, and I have no doubt that they were, how poorly were they backed by the British Court? No wonder at the resentment and indignation with which she saw them neglected; no wonder at the bitterness of the disappointment and vexation which she expressed to Capt. Smith, in London, arising as well from the cold reception which she herself had met, as from the contemptuous and insulting point of view in which she found that her nation was regarded. Unfortunate Princess! She deserved a happier fate! But I am consoled by these rereflections; first, that she sees her descendants among the most respectable families in Virginia; and that they are not only superi : our to the false shame of disavowing her as their ancestor, but that they pride themselves, and with reason too, on the honour of their descent Secondly-that she herself has gone to a country, where she finds her noble wishes realized; where the distinction of colour is no more, but where indeed, it is perfectly immaterial, "what complexion an Indian or an African sun may have burnt" on the pilgrim. Adieu, my dear S*******. This train of thought has destroyed the tone of my spirits; when I recover them, you shall hear further Once more, adieu. from me. ****** LETTER VI. BRITISH SPY. LETTER VI. = RICHMOND, SEPTEMBER 23. I HAVE been, my dear S*******, on an excursion through the countries which lie alongthe eastern side of the Blue Ridge. Ageneral description of that country and its inhabitants may form the subject of a future letter. For the present, I must entertain you with an account of a most singular and interesting adventure which I met with in the course of the tour. It was on Sunday as I travelled through the county of Orange, that my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied near a ruinous old wooden house in the forest not far from the road side. Having frequently seen such objects before, in travelling through these States, I had no difficulty in understanding that this was a place of religious worship. Devotion alone should have stopped me to join in the duties of the congregation; but I must confess that curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness, was not the least of my motives. On entering, I was struck with his preternatural appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man-his head, which = was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, and his voice, all shaking under the influence of a palsy, in a few moments ascertained to me that he was perfectly blind. The first emotions which touched my breast were those of mingled pity and veneration. But ah! Sacred God! How soon were all my feelings changed! The lips of Plato were never more worthy a prognostick swarm of bees, than were the lips of this holy man! It was a day of the administration of the sacrament, and his subject, of course, was the passion of our Saviour. I had heard the subject handled a thousand times: I had thought it exhausted long ago. Little did I suppose that in the wild woods of America I was to meet with a man whose eloquence would give to this topick a new and sublimer pathos than I had ever before witnessed. As he descended from the pulpit to distribute the mystick symbol there was a peculiar, a more than usual solemnity in his air and manner, which made my blood run cold and my whole frame to shiver. He then drew a picture of our Saviour-his trial before Pilate-his ascent up Calvary-his crucifixion, and his death. I knew the whole history; but never until then had I heard the circumstances so selected, so arranged, so coloured! It was all new ; and I seemed to have heard it for the first time in my life. His enunciation was so deliberate, that his voice trembled on every syllable: and every heart trembled in unison. His pecu liar phrases had that force of description, that the original scene appeared to be at that moment acting before our eyes. We saw the very faces of the Jews-the staring, frightful distortions of malice and rage. We saw the buffet-my soul kindled with a flame of indignation, and my hands were involuntarily and convulsively clenched.-But when he came to touch the patience, the forgiving meekness of our Saviour-when he drew, to the life, his blessed eyes streaming in tears to heaven, his voice breathing to God a soft and gentle prayer of pardon on his enemies "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do"-the voice of the preacher, which had, all along, grown fainter and fainter, until his utterance being entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect is inconceivable. The whole house resounded with the mingled groans and sobs and shrieks of the congregation. It was some time before the tumult had subsided so far as to permit him to proceed. Indeed, judging by the usual but fallacious standard of my own weakness, I began to be very uneasy for the situation of the preacher. For I could not conceive how he would be able to let his audience down from the height to which he had wound them, without impairing the soemnity and dignity of the subject, or perhaps shocking them by the abruptness of the G |