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~ ' {During the tyranny and persecutions ofCliarlcs IL, there dWBlt in Ayrshire, Scotland, many pious patriots, who were of course obnoxious to the Government: and two of their leaders (the Rev. Donald Car-gill and Richard Carncron,) having drawn up a public declaration of their principles,‘ andtbe objects for I which they contended, the Council took the alarm, and General Dalzell was ordered to scour the country, and inflict vengeance. He was fitted for deeds ofblood. A ilemi’savage himself, brought up in the barbarous Muscovite service, he did not shrink from the task. A body of120 dragoons, under Earshal, discovered the wildglen in which the bouselcss exiles waited on the ministry «Mr. Cameron. .A party of Covenanters, consisting of 40 foot and 26 horsemen, weresurprised while singing the psalm. Af- ter a braveresistance, they were all either killed on the spot or 'tv'ou'nded and made prisoners. Richard Cameron was among

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’ THE VISION or AYR‘S moss. In a dream ofthe night I was wafted away H T5 the moorlands of mist, where the brave martyrs lay; Where Cameron’s sword and his Bible are seen

? Engrav’d on the stone where the heather grows green.

I ‘Twas a dream ofthose ages of darkness and blood,

When the minister’s home was the mountain and wood: When in IVell-wood's dark moorland's, the standard of Zion, A‘llbloody and torn, ’mong the heather was lying l

'Twas morning: and summer's bright sun from the east, Lay in lovely repose on the green mountain breast,

I On Wardlaw and Carntable, and clear shining dew, ‘

. , Glisten'd sheen ’tnong the heath-bells, and mountain flowers

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,All dazzling like gold ofthe

blue.

And for up in heav’n, near the white sunny cloud, The song ofthe lurk was melodious and loud:

In Glenmew’s wild solitudes, lengthen‘d and deep, Were the whistling ofplovers, the bleating ofsheep,

‘ Ami Well-wood"s sweet valley'breath'd music and gladness ; fl'he fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness; Its daughters were happy to hail the returning, ' And enjoy the delights ofJuly’s sweet morning.

1 But, ah ! there were hearts cherish‘d far other feelings, Illum'd by the light quroplietic revealings; Who saw in the beauty of nature but sorrow, For theysk'new tliattlieir blood would bedew it to-morrow !

’Twas the few faithful ones, who with Cameron were lying, Conceal'd 'mongst the mist, where the heath-fowl was crying: For the ltorsemcn_0fEarshnl around them were hovering, Whose armour glcamed bright, through the thin misty covering.

Their faces grew pale, and their swords were’unsheathed, ,

But the vengeance which darken'd their brow was unbreathed; With eyes rais’d to heaven in calm resignation,

They sang their last song to the God of salvation !

-Tho hills with, their loud hallelujahs were ringing; The curlew and plover in concert were singing; ' But the melod died 'midst derision and laughter, Al the host 0 ungodly rush’d on to the slaughter!

.Tbough in mist, in darkness, and fire, Yet tliersonls ofthe righteous were calm and unclouded E 'l‘heir dark eyes flalh'd lightning, as proud and unbending, They stood like the rock, which the thunder is reading E

The musketl were flashing—the blue sWords,were gleaming— The helmets were cleft—and the red blood was streaming—

" The heavens grew dark—and the thunder was rolling— ' when in Well-wood's dard moorland: the mighty were falling!

When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was ended, . '_A chariot offire through the dark cloud descended ! '

.113 drivers were angels on horses of whiteness !

“its burning wheels turned upon axles .ofbrightness!

A sersph unfolded its doors,

they were shrouded,

bright and shining, seventh refining!

‘ And the souls that came fbrth out ofgreat tribulation, Have mounted the chariot and needs ofsalvation !

0n the arch ofthe rainbow the chariot is gliding! Through the path ofthe thunder the horsemen are riding! filide swifty, bright spirits ! the prize is before you ! ' A crown ncvarfadiug ! a kingdpm of'glory.

Witt t 1‘7!th 2 .

THE WIFE OF THE ’IN'I‘EMPERA'I'E:

- 1 BY MRI. SIGOURNEY. ,

’ Jane Harwood, with her husband and children, made one among the many families who removed to the un- planted Western wild. The change, from the manner of life in which she had been brought up in her native ’New England, was great. But she never complained, 'and‘ busied herself with those duties which befit the wife ofs lowly emigrant. ' 7 *

One ofher principal cares was an invalid boy. The charge of his health, and of his mind, occupied her most curious thoughts. She supplioated that the pencil which was to write upon his soul, and which seemed to be placed in her hand, might be guided from above. She spoke to him in the tenderest manner of his Father in Heaven,“ and ofI-Iis will respecting little children.

She painted out Almighty goodness in the daily gifts that sustain life; in the glorious sun rejoicing in the East; in the gently-falling rain; the frail plants, and the dew: that nourish them. She reasoned with him of the changes of nature, till he loved even the storm and the lofty thunder, because they came from God.

She repeated to him passages of Scripture, with which hey memory .was stored, and sang hymns, until she per- .ceived that if he was in pain, he complained not, if he might but hear her voice. She made him acquainted With the life of the compassionate Redeemer, how he took young children in his arms, though the disciples -forbade them. And a voice from within urged her ne- wer to desist from cherishing that tender and deep-root- ed piety, because, like the flower of grass, he must soon pass away.

' JaneI-Iarwood had a different, and a still dee m the _mtemperance Of her husband. In his fits ofin- .toxi‘cation, there was no‘form of persecution which dis-

tressed her so much as unkindness to the feeble and suffering boy. ' On such occasions, it was in rain that she attempted to protect him. She might neither Shel-i ter him in her bosom, nor control the frantic violence of the father.» ‘ i

The timid boy, in terror of his natural protector, with- ered like a crushedflower. It was of no avail that neigh- bours rcmonstrated with the unfeeling parent, or~ that hoary-headed men warned him solemnly of his sins. In- }:flpzyaéizs'had destroyed his respect for man, and his

The wasted M wild-eyed invalid shrunk from the glance and footstep of his father, as from the approach ofs foe. Harshness, and the agitation of fear, deepened a disease that might else have yielded. Returning sprint? brought no gladncss to the declining child. Consumptiod

laid its hand upon his vitals, and his ninhts Were restless and full ofpain. ' a

.“ Mother, I wish I could 0 that grew upon the green bank, by our old dear home.” “ It is too early for violets, my child; but the grass is growmg bright and beautiful around us, and the birds singsweetly, as ifthen'r little hearts were full ofpraise.” The mother knew that his hectic fever had been recently increasing, and 'saw that there was a strange brightness in his eye. ‘

seating. herself on his low b his, tosoothe and compose hi

per trial,

nce more smell the violets

ed, she bowe‘d her face to m. , “Mother, do you think

my father will come ’l” Dreading the alarm which, in his paroxysms ofcooghing, he evinced at his father s approach, she answered, “I think not, love; you had better try to sleep.”- .

“Mother, Iwisli he would come. I am not.afraid now. Perhaps he would let meilay my cheek to his once more, as he used to do, when I was" a babe in my grand- mother’s arms. I should be glad to say a kind good bye to him, before I go to my Saviour.” ,

Gazing earnestly in his face, she saw the work of the destroyer; “My son! my dear son! say, ‘ Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.’ ” “Mother,” he replied, With a smile upon his ghastly features, “ he is ready for me. I am, willing to go to him. Hold the baby to toe, that I may kiss her’once more. That is all. Now sing to toe; and oh! wrap the closer in your arms, for I shiver wtth cold.” . ' ‘.

He clung, with the death-grasp, to that bosom which had long been. his sole earthly refuge. “ Sing lorider, a lille louder, dearest mother, I cannot hear you." Tre- mulous tones,like those of a broken harp, rose above her grief, to comfort the dying child. Oue sigh of icy breath was upon her cheek, as she joined it- to his, one shudder, and all was over. ‘ ‘ ’

She stretched the body on the bed, and kneeling be side it. hid her face in that grief'wliich none but mothers feel. It was a deep and sacred solitude—alone With the dead. Only. the soft brearliiugs of the sleeping babe were heard. Then the silence was broken by a piercing voice of supplication for strength to endure. The peti- tion, which began in weakness, closed in faith. It be- came a prayer ofthanksgiving to him who had released the dove-like spirit from its prison-house ofpain, to share the bliss of angels. ' . \ '

She arose from her knees, and bent calmly over the dead. “The placid feature wore the same smile as when he had spoken of Jesus. She smoothed the shining locks around the pure forehead, and gazed long on what was to her so beautiful. ~Amid her tears was an expression, chastened and sublime, as ofonewho gave a cherub back to God. '

The father entered carelessly. She pointed to the pale, immoveable brow. “ See, he no longer suffers.” He drew near, and looked with surprise on the dead. A few natural tears forced'their way, and fell upon the face of the first-born, who was once his pride. He even spoke tenderly to the emaciated mother, and she who a few moments before felt raised above the sway of grief, wept like an infant, as those few affectionate tones touched the sealed fountains ofother years.

James Harwood returned from the funeral ofthe child in. much mental distr-eSs. His sins \rera‘brought to re- membrance, and reflection was misery. Sleep was dis- turbed by visions ofliis neglected boy. In broken dreams, he fancied that he heard him coughing from his low bed, as he was wont to do. With a strange disposition of kindness he felt constrained to go to him, but his limbs“ refused their oflice. Then a little, thin, dead band, would be thrust from the dark grave, and beckon him to follow to'the unseen world. ‘

While conscience thus haunted him with terrors, many prayers arose from pitying and pious hearts, that he might

in his habits; and she, who was above all others inter- ested in his reformation, spared no effort to win ,him back to the path of virtue, and to soothe hisaccusing spirit into peace with itself and obedience to its God;

Yet was she doomed to witness the full force of the conflict of grief and remorse against intemperance, only to see them suddenly overthrown. The reviving good- ness, with whose promise she had so solaced herself, as even to give thanks that her beloved son had not died in vain, was transient as the morning dew. Habits .of industry, which seemed to have been springing up, prov— ed themselves to be without root. _

The (lead, and “his cruelty to the dead, were alike for- gotten. Disaffectiott to that tender and trusting ‘Wife, who, “ against hope had believed in hope,” resumed its habitual sway. The friends who had alternately reprov- ed and encouraged him, felt that their efforts were of no avail. Iriternperaiice, like the “strong man armed,”r

aid to the Holy Spirit, and ceased ‘struggle with the destroyer. '

To lay waste the comfort ofhis wife, seemed now the principal object of this miserable man Day after day did she witness for herself and for her household the fearful changes ofhis causeless anger and brutal tyranny. She felt the utter necessity ofderiving consolation, and the power of endurance, wholly from above. ~

She was faithful in the discharge of the difficult duties that devolved upon her, and especially careful not to ir- ritale‘him by reproaches or a gloomy countenance. Ye: she couLd notfsometimes prevent from rising mournfully to her view her sweet native village—the peaceful home and food friends of her childhood so far away—~and the constant, endearing attentions which won her early love for one whose ill-treatment now strewed her path with thorns.

In this new and solitary settlement she had no rela- tive to protect her from his insolence ; she felt that she was entirely in his power—that it was a power without generosity—and that there is no tyranny so entire and terrible as that of an aliiieated and intemperate lins- band. \ 4

Still, looking to her Father in Heaven, she found her courage revive, and deepen into a child-like confidence. .After putting her children to'bed, as she sat alone, even- ing after evening, while the joys of early days, and the

sorrows of maturity, passed in review before her, she questioned her heart ven’s discipline, and Whether she was to sustain that greatest of all losses, the loss of the spiritual benefit in- tended by aflliction.

The absences of her husband grew more frequent and protracted. OnCe, during the third night of his depar- ture, she knew not where, she lay sleepless, listening fdr his footsteps. Sometimes she fancied she heard his shouts of wild laughter, but it“ was only the shriek of the tempest. Then, she thought the sounds of his frenzied anger rang in her ears. It was the roar ofthe hoarse wind through the forest. 1 ‘ .

All night long she listened to these tumults, and bush- ed and sang to her alfrighted babe. Early in the morn- ing, her eye was attracted by a group coming up slowly from the river which ran near her dwelling. A terrible foreboding came upon her. She thought they bore a cgpse. It was, indeed, the corpse of her husband! He had been drowned, as it was supposed, during the dark _ness ofthe preceding night, while attempting to cross a bridge of logs, which had been broken by the swollen waters.

Utter prostration ofspirit came over the desolate! mour- ner. Her energies were broken, and her heart withered.

She had sustained the hardships of emigration, and the privations of poverty, '

to stir itself up to

I . the burdens of unceasing toil and hunrequited pare, Without murmuring. She had laid her

now be led to repentance. There was, indeed, a change,

took final possession ofa soul that lifted no prayer for _

{had been its gain from Idea-i

one colonial metals.

first-born in the grave, with resignation, for faith had heard her Redeemer saying, ” Sufi'er the little one ,to come unto me.” a _ ,

She had seen him, in whom her heart’s young effec- tions were garnered up, become a prey to vice the most disgusting and destructive. Yet she had borne up un- der all. One hope had lingered with her as an “anchor of the soul,” the’ hope that he might yet repent and be reclaimed. But now he had died in his sin. The deadly leprosy which had stolen over his heart, could no more be “ purged with sacrifice or ofliering, forever.”

She knew not that a single prayer for mercy had pre- ceded the soul on its passage to the judge’s bar. There were bitter dregs in this cup of woe, which she had ne- ver before tasted. With heaviness of an unspoken and peculiar nature, was the victim ofintemperance borne from the house that he had troubled, and buried by the side of his son, to whose tender years ‘he had been an un-, natural enemy. Arid among those who surrounded his open grave, there was sorrow, bearing the features of that fearful “ sorrow which is without hope.”

=A___EE_.-= (From Mr. Webster's Speech, at the, celebration of the landing of the first Settlers in New England.) 7 '

On the entrance ofthe Orator, Mr. Chaote, accompa- nied by the officers ofthe Society, and by Mr. Webster, and Senator Evans, of Maine, the Tabernacle trembled with the warmth oftheir greeting. The exercises were commenced by the‘smging of a hymn composed for the occasion. The Rev. Dr. Adams, ofthe Broome Street Church, next addressed a prayer to the Throne ofGrace.

“ 3“ * ll "' ,* So much for this branch of the English race; but what has happened ‘meanwhile to Eng- land herself since the departure ofthe Puritans from the coast ofLincolnshire—from the English Boston ’! Gen- tlemen, in speaking of the progreSs of English power, au- thority and dominion, from that period to the present, I shall be understood, of course, as rreither entering into any defence nor any accusation ofthe policy which has conducted her to her present state. ,

“ As to the justice of her wars, the necessity of her conquests, the propriety ofthose acts by which she'has taken possession of so g3“ a portion of the globe, it is not the business ofthe p sent occasion to inquire. But to speak of them, or intend to speak of them, as facts of the most extraordinary character included in the history of any nation on the globe, and the consequences ofivhich may and must run through a thousand generations. The Puritans left England in the reign of James the First. England itselfhad then become somewhat settled and established in the Protestant faith, and in the quiet enjoyment of property, by the previous energetic, long and prosperous reign of Elizabeth. Her successor was James the Sixth of Scotland—now become James the First of England; and here was a union of the crowns, but not of the kingdoms—a very important distinction. Ireland was held by a military power. " " * In other respects, England was nothing like the England which we now behold. Her various possesstons were qmte in- considerable. I She had some hold of the 'West India‘Is- lands. She had Nova Scotia, whiizh King James granted segeral timcs. . _

“ And what has been her progress? Did shethen pos- sess Gibraltar—:‘the key oftheMcditerraneaii? Did she possess ports in the Mediterranean itself? ’Was Malta hers? Were the Ionian Islands hers}! Was the southern extremity of Africa hers ’!_ Did she possess the‘C_ape of Good Hope? Were the whole of her vast possessmns in India hers’.’

“ While that brziuch of her population that followed the western star, under its guidance, and committed itselfto the duty of settling, fertilizing and peepling an unknown wilderness, were pursuing their destinies, other causes, under the direction of Providence, were leading English power eastward and southward, in consequence and by means of her naval authority and the extent of her commerce, until in our day we have seen that within the Mediterrau’ean—on the western coast ofthe extre- mity of Africa—in Arabiaw-in the hither India and the farther India, she has a population ten times as great as all that which fills the British Isles.

“ And recently—J will not say with bow m‘uch truth and justice——policy or impolicy—p-I Will not speak at all ofthe morality ofthe action—I only speak of the fact -—-she has taken possession ofChina, and has» carried the Christian religion to the shores of three hundred millions of people, whose gates had for so many centuries shut out the civiliiation and arts of the rest of the world.

“It has been said that whoso would see the Eastern world before it becomes a Western, must make his visit soon, because ‘stearnboats and omnibuses—commerce and all the arts of Europe are extending themselves from Egypt to Suez—from Suez to the Indian Seas—arid from the Indian Seas allover the explored regions ofthe East. —~—Applause. i" l' * ll 4“ l’

“ In the eastern hemisphere I only see that you can hardly place a finger on a map ofthe world, and be an inch from an English settlement.”———Applause.

The orator concluded by expressing his pleasure atthe extension of the principles of British government, as re- garded itsestablishmeut for the service ofthe people,and his belief that with those principles prosperity and peace would make progress. ‘

WiLuAM PiNNOCK.—Few names are better known in the annals of education than that of Willia'm Pinnock. He died on the 2lst ult.,- in his 62d year, and in very poor circumstances. Pinnock made fortunes, and he lost them; for his mind was _specu|at'ive beyond satiety or cure. From the humblest condition, he raised him- selfto property and consideration. Pinnock was lowly- born at Alton,'in Hampshire, where he made his first start as a teacher. llis Iinwearied activity and perseve- rance established the elementary school books which bore his name to an immense extent; and, if he could have, been contented with success, £4000 or £5000 a year was nearly his current reward.

DISCOVERY or A NEW QUADRUPED.——We gave a brief notice of this newly-discovered animal ashort time since; but the subjoined particulars, from so enthusiastic and intelligent a lover of nature as M. Audubon, must ne- cessarily be read with interest :—-—M. Audubon, in aletter of the 20th of June last, written 110 miles above Port Union, in latitude 49 10 N., communicates, “ with a transport of pleasure,” the “discovery of an animal which bids fair to become not only a valuable, but a do- mestic one.” He had taken refuge in a wood during a storm, and saw two enormous beasts at play, such as be had never seen or heard of before, but somewhat resem- bling kangaroos. A companion shot one of these ani- mals; the other fled. . “ The buffalo or mountain elk (says M. Audubon) is nothing in comparison to this ani- mal in the scale of worth. It sits on its hind legs, its front legs or arms, are short but armed with sharp claws, and it bounds or jumps with its hind legs. It has a tail, some-