The New York Herald Newspaper, July 16, 1843, Page 1

THE NEW YOR Vol, IX,—=Ne, 103... Wole He, 3405. NEW YORK, SUN DAY MORNING, JULY 16, 1843. To the Public, THE NEW YORK HERALD—daily newspapsr—pub- lished every day of the year exeept Now Year’s day and Fourth of July. Price 2 cents per copy—or $7 26 per en- mum—postages paid—cash in advance. THE WEEKLY HERALD—publishedevory Saturday mornizg—price 6} ceuts per copy, or $3 12 per annum—- posteges paid-—oash in advance. ADVERTISi.RS are informed that the circulation of the Herald is over THIRTY THOUSAND, and increasix g ast. Ithas the largest circulation of any paper in this city, or the world, and is therefore, the best channel for business men inthe city or country. Prices modorate—cash in ad- vance. PRINTING ofall kinds, executed at the most moderate Prices, and in the most elegant style. JAMES GORDON BENNETT, Proraietor oy THE Henatp Estas.isHMenr, Northwest corner of Fulton and Nassau streets. EXCHANGE HOTEL, BALTIMORE FT HIS house having underzone many mmpcrtan alterations 4 and thorough repairs, hi been in part refurnished with, rich end elegant farnit ‘gain open forthe reception of company. ‘ The position of this Hotel is 100 well known to require a de- tail of its advantazes, | It is copfessed to be, for people of bu Beas or pleasure, one of the most favorable of Present proprietor intends rvnusaden seperscaeerseting 1h czsen | RESO SSE TS C8 ‘ublished on su; 18 cont a fullaccoun; | friends anu the pablic. of the celebration of Bunker ‘Hill, consisting of the de- | Baltimore, April 20, 1843. 823 eod3mr scriptions, and Mr. Webster's oratio: : accompanied with five splendid engravings, comprising Ist. Arare and original view of the Battle of Bun- ker Hill, which aya lace on the 17th June, 1775; ex- hibitiag the array of the American army, engaged in deadly conflict with the British troops, their ther forces, 2nd. A view of the procession forming on Boston Com- mon. ‘ ~ 3d. A view of the procession crossing Warren ridge. 4th. A viow of Bunker Hill Monument from the north, as it looked on the day of the celebration, with the above and crowds below. 6th. A view of Bunker Hill Monument from the south- ern buy, as it looked on the quiet Sabbath morning after the celebration. transmit their orders before the edi- HARON SPRINGS. TY, N. ¥.—This ol id and commodious Hotel been enlarged, repamted furnished in the most ut manner thfoaghout-duripg the pat winter, will be pened for the reception of visiters by the subscribers on the 25th of May ensuing. The alterations and additions to the interior will enable them to accommodare a macch ivater nuinberof visiters thanforaerly and ina manver aflonding every comfort and couveuience. The promensde groanda will be handsomely relaid out with « view fo aiford the most advantageous proapect of the surrowudsay country. The roads to aud about the Springs are beitwe ioe proved aud new ones orcved for greater accommodation oF Squestriaus, ‘The grouuds and water courses 1m the viewity of the Bath House have also been testefally tud out, ‘Live Bath Hou:e is being ent: d and much iproved and will accommo: date all who may d to bathe. There are four new and spaei- ous BallAlleys which have lately been erected. ‘he intericr ar rangemeats of the Pavilion are such am to afford every attention fo the comfort aud wishes of visiters with a well organized (servants; and in short tne ers ill be tHe pared yy an FANON, SCOHARIE COUN Pleod an ips and a! 3 nbs a, as the demand is unprecedented. ‘Tho | t2,Gceive thelr Viters in @ manner not to be surpassed price, wholesal ents, $3 per hundred, or eight cents ‘Of the White Suipaur Wat £ Sharon Springs i Retail, 12} cents, To be had at this offi saidit Is uot surpassed by any this of the kind inthe, kuows per cop} world for the cure of rhruimatic, cutaneous,bilions and dyspep- tic complaints, and for the cure of erysepilas, sult rheum, scro er complaint, aud general debility, ashes been ecrtified Most emineat medical professors By a recent analysis made for the proprietors Of the 3} pha org me et nk R HALIFAX AND LIVERPOOL. lew Xo following results have been obtaine The Reva Mat Buecee hip HIQERATA CCH. K Jud- | fem one gallon of water>— kins, Esq. Commander,’ leave Boston for the above ports, Si - Grains. on Sunday, July 15th. jalphate of Mi 42.40 to Liverpool Satphave of Li 102 Passage to Halifax, Chloride of Sod ren ine 4 5 re Hydroasiphuret ot Coltain ope ats No: 3 Wal street | eee ot } az 1 ppp DRAFTS ON ENGLAND, Ii LAND, ke Persons about, remitting mo; ney to ul fiends in the ‘old cow eambe supplied with Drafts, in sums of ly 2, Sulphuretted Hydrogen Gas. 3,5, 10,20 & £50, er any amottut, payable on te ‘These Springs are within a few ra" Seratoga, Behenectady, U. fi . 3 ho.3 an demand, without ditcount or any other cha'ge, at the Nations! | from Carnjohare, om the Alba whe Coe etc eieher Bauk of Ireland, Frovioeial Byuk, do. Messrs. gmes Bal coaches daiiy await the arrival of the moruiug cars {rom Be & Uo, Banas Lond oa hs Beiaed se COS eg rae ichenectady aud Utica, to convey visitors to the Springs, a ock Baukivg Company, Sit Win, Forbes Hunter & C Gistaoee of about sieht miles, arnving ip time for diapers or by ry Valley, by daily stages, est of the city of Albany. Pe leaving New York 1n the eyeving boat: for Albany, arri the Sharon Springs the nazt Gay in time for disner, rs C.ARK, GARDNER & HASKELL, April 28, 1845. 230 cod3m®r JUST PUBLISHED at the Beacon Office. 91 How:vel: st, Y., anew edition of S1RAUSS’ LI¥é OF JESUS, bound $100, moor.ds75 cents. ‘The Bibie of Nature, con: tainicg the essential parts of scarce works, (cheapest book ex fan) $12—The Beis eof the Bible, $0. cents; Bible Be acts 25 cents—tozether 62% c-4ge—Le Citateur, from the Frenet:, 25 cents<@xo0:i-190 of Daniel and the Ave 38cents. The Lite of Thor ine, Jend, and the branches in every post town throuzhout land, Trelaad, Seotiend & Wales, whieh dra'ts will be forwarded by the stezmers Great Western or Hibernia, by 9b ‘W. & J.T. TAPSCOTT, Attheir General Passage Office, 43 Peck Slip, cor. Bouth st. N. Bo=All letters from the country must come post paid. jy tir i. EMIDTAN 3 TO IRELAND, &—The the sai being about forty-five mil ns at ber coutiunes to transmit money in sums large . to persons or sm ding’ in ony part of Ireland in me ganoner as he, end his predecessor in business. havo done for tive las: thirty Yeers and more jalso,to any part of eng- land, or Scoutand. ‘Money remutted by letter (post paid) to the subscriber, f Containing penal epoited wiht gh tyson oto pra gr | Wes Upterge, Washingt ound SLI Dale y 5 om it wu uf ” ent, and nearest peat town, will be immediately transmitted | Eylemers ¢# places of the Flénets, $2 per annuin, and an ec y, nd a receipt to that effect giver, or for ee money, or claims on Jrelend, Enetand or 8 ber for persons re nada, and will be pai jt? im*r rsons yn aby part of stand, can be collected by the subscri- ‘in any part of the United States or Ca- ‘id to the m accordingly. GEORGE McBKI DE, Jr, 82 Cedar st, JOHN HERDMAN’S OLD ESTABLISHED EMIGRANT PASSAGE OFFICE. PULLEY & Cours EXPRESS, % 3 WAL TREET. Thi subscribers, the ofd conductors of Hernden & Cos Ex press from New York, will continue to run os heretofore,leav- ing New York, Albany and ‘Troy daily, and witl forward pecie, Bank Notes, Puckaces, Bundles, Cares of Googe Pare ¢ &e ,in connection with Messr. Bailey & Howard’s t Western Exp ess,” to end from the followirg plac v.z" Utica, 8 racnae, Oswego,Auburn, Seneca Friis, ne Canadaigua, Rochesier, Batavia. Leckport, Buffalo, Detroit, Cleayeland and Chicagn: also,to Kingston, Toron'o aud Hamil- ton, a Canada West. By Jacobs’ Norther Express, to White- hall, Burlington, Champlain and Plattsburgh: also t0 St Jehos, Montreal and Queore, in Canada Mast. ‘They will also con: nect with Hatch & Co New York, and forward articles of ¢ Iphia Baltimore fesbington. " Particular attention will be paid to the collection of Notes, fis, &c.and prompt returns made be fi-st Hxpress. Sach messenge 1will be provided with one of Wilder's Patent Sala- mander Safes, thereby ationding greater security in the trans mission of valuable papers, he PULLEN & COPP, No, 3 Wall street, New York. THOMAS GOUGH, No. 15 Exchang f A. G. FILKINS, 222' River street, Tro + by the reqnies, » and 25th of esch month to an Po and from London ist, 10th and 23th of e:ch 0) ‘The subscriber has made unequalled arrangements to bring ont emigrants, and can, with great contitence, as- re those pcrsons’ sending ‘for therr friends, that every and diligent attention will be shown them, and all who embark with them. asrage can also be engaged from Liver- | civect to New Orieans, hile, Sav aunah, pia, Bo'ton, and to the different ports of Pravinees, at the lowest rates. ‘With those arrangements, together with the which his Liverp ol correspondents possi xtensively e d in the 1 0s Southern Express deapription to Phil. Es Ba'timere, the British th 100 pAb One Exchange Cont f page aria ate reacee=Mesers, Prine vase Gon John Tr Smith & Co. Penoon, & Hofman, Carpenter k surpassed, and fr 1 large number of first class ships ¢ N. York; lye, Ho wghton & Co. Drew, Robinson & C. " om ployed inthe line there can be no detention whatever, which amph 4), 2 ‘ 3 Wil be guaranteed. “The price of passage will be at the lowest . Bsa, eal Welt, dane Keo oo rates, an ial ie ‘any of those sent for Jecline eomivg, the Douglas, do; F. roy. m6 eod sage money wiil D* as customary refanded. @ steainboat fare from ifferect ports to Liverpool can,as usual, be se- urea, IOHN HERDMAN, 61 South st, N Y, or JEW LGUINSON near Wall see Merchants’ acd Emi Agents, ‘0. 16 Goree Piazzas, Liverpool. DRAFTS AND #XCHANGE. : ‘The subscriber reqaests the attention of those remitting mo- Med errangements for the pay> zon d Yrithour dt whatever, at the followin g Benting Insti-utions, oo IN. ENGLAND—Mesath James Bult, Sou & Uo., Bankers, dou. Messrs J, Barzard & Co,, Exchange and Discount Bank, Li- F, Le T NORTHERN Pi a ERN EMIGRANT PASSAGE OFFICE. The Subscribers h ing completed their arrancements, are now prepared to fort Westen States and ngers’o all the Nonhera ‘and roads and steamboats, vin y lines of towboats, rail- t Lakes, Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, Ohio river and ‘Cant riverand Erie Canal, uppei roates. The following are a few’ of the most important e au ia Utica, Buffalo, —Pottaville, Galena, ‘National Provincial Bank of Kagland, and Branches throngh- Syracuss, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, Toronto, out Engtand ano Wales. Detroit, Cincinnat Ki Yorkshire Distriet 1d Branches. Milwauki St. Birmioghim Banking Chicago, Montreal. Lancaster Banking Co. to any port o} sl 4 Yay alk ace TLAN. Benzing Co. in Giasgow and ——_, reenoek. 5 TRELAND™ Bovinetal Bask of elend Soper and LowerCanada. eee Eat EE ee Mile are | ubetabiseets ceils mein hy enon and Page be S| 1c subscribers will endeavor to —— are ‘Oa. make the present undertak ly ceserving of public fa Ore Pa seen ‘The rttention of emigrants and others is invited to the fol- Londonderry Stiabane low low rates of prssage to a few of the most important points, Downpatrick Largen on any other places on the route being equally low, vizz— Lallystiennon Duvgannon Limerick Woateriord Vaca, $150 Columbus, $940 St Louis, $14 00 Clonmel Dangarron Monaghan —- Yenghell Svracuse, 175 Sandusky, 575 Galena, 18 00 National Bank of Rochester, 200 Detroit, 606 ri Billinasloe —Castlever, == Moate Tipperary 2 59 ukie, 10 00 460 janagher Henowseorthy Nenagh Taam Oe in o a. a 43 i ii ¥ ‘o1 irticulars apply to eae Sair Paco Boscommon Ww atport 7 & J. ay) PSCOTT, attheir General Charesville Loughrea "Tallow Wicklow . ns wge Office, Peck slip cor South st. Ctonmet Mitehelstown ‘Thurles Tate NoticeThis office is not connected with any other in N S —In addition to the Liverpool end Lovdon this city. ‘il6e subscriber Iso agent tor the re,ular packets sail from New. York to New H fad N OLD LINE LIVERPOOL PACKETS. DAILY EXPRESS FOR ALBAN | TROY. BUFFALO, CHICAGO AND THE CANADAS, The subscribers having completed thetr arrangements with the People’s Line of Steamboats, on the North River and the Rail oad Comisuies west of Albany for running their eae No. f Pac! E of Packets tor Liverpoot wi! (or the season of 18/3, an Kxpresa will leave thetr ofice, HE 3 N tbe T in the Lee mag: ee Whi ears ‘en when the den i Sunday ail atreet, Ni i, felocke, Sane ‘aa if forthe above mined ai Inter oe phecampripcr, "Cyan Paty PGs | Forcthe grenter safoty and security of a& valuable and 850 et 1 lov 19 Coe eee: to their cnre, they have 3: ander Tron .C Bantow.| Feb 1 ar 19 fes om hoard of the steamboats, ‘in a state room pied ex- ‘The ENGLAND, Jane 19 Avg 7 | clusively by themselves, avd the messenger in charge sleep: 0 Ger 13 Dee 7 | thestne room with the iron sates, into which a gue packages 8. Bartlet. (Feb 19 April are placed. POMEHOY & GOMPAN The OXFORD, jay Aug | _mlee Nev 2 Walt treet. ‘J.ttathbone, March 1 Apel 1s | €Oh BUFFALO AND ALL PARTS OF THE WEST e@ The MONTEZUMA, §July 18 Sept ~ 1600 tons, } Nor 18 jen 7 TheKUROHE, OS Aue TP Sen oe 818 toh Dec 1 jen’ i9 | “ASSOCIATION PAsBAUN OFKICE Tu ALBANY. ‘The NEW YORK: (aety” GARE ab ae eo ee pemnion et (new! racttae, pafalny aoe co be Dee HY Feb i Ovwexo, £2 sssagel ae Lemer Canals 20 » B. Cro + April ty (De or ‘The SOUTH AMEMICA, (Sep. Der 19 YM. Is. RAY, €59 tons, eis fan eb mitt 93 Barclay strcet_ New York. The conumiuse as “4 a pne 19 |) @RIGISH AND NORTH AMERICAN HOYAL MAIL “700 toms, im % .. 3 STEAM @IPS, A. Col iy i OF 1200 rons and 440 horee power ench. i iinirsity to sail between Liverpool and Ie inte Ottine at, Halex to nnd and receive Pasven May. J sed in point of elegance or core seumers aud Her Majesty's Mails, oria their fast sailing quait well know m: experience, aad the strictest attention will alwara be geld ae promote (he comfort and convemeuce of pass=ngers, ee vaitty, as regards the day of sailing, wil be observed as retafore. The of passage outward is now Fi HIBERNL Dolla: aor which ample srares | Peter deren wil © Do Rta, provi Me Ww re f ards, if required. COLUMB! Washer tae captalas orowners BRITANS these ships will 3 . Capt eo sent, hy them talons iiteait for s i eels, oF packs t by t . Hagalar uly of tadibg are igued therefor. Wor Moule or pest PROM Livenrco!, sage, apply to Acad Ryn 19th May 1s GOODHUE & CO., 64 South Golam! shannon éth June Ist July C. MARSHALL, 4 Burlinglip, N Hibernia,” Jadkins, 19:6 Jae 16h July jy! and to BARING RNOTHERS RCO Cyledonits, Lott, ah July iat Aug | —s N NE OF LiV. OL PACK: in pe akivecaty experienced surgeons, an} Fiances’ Patent eee ecard UA TLS Age iese + BNNNo. 3 Wail streets New York To sail from New York i6th, and from {Liverpool Sth of each month. Bhip HO’ vier 1096 tons, § guy July. Bi wiih New ship LIVERBOU! ARSE N : JohmEldridge, 16th Angust ‘The underinent ed shipe Will bo remularty dioratehed. from New ship, Greag Western, 1250 tons, $ i¢.h, September. fore, and from Marseilles on the ist of each month during house, yeu Ship ROUHESTER, 0 tone, th October. " From New York, Marseilles. Johe Bricton: jetober. GOURIER, Capt Daeran June}. TAvg 1 artic sommes Greer ts | ANSGAR hitin, are Cistiof MSY will be denpetehed panctaallgrne ta mrient ont Sen Eesreny Cap Hailey $s} er Y BON, Cap Sylvester, Oct i. be opornis ati copper fstened nd have Uscellant or passenyere. “Fine price of eabin passage will be $108, exclusive 0 wines liquors, 4 to thea gents, BOYD & HINCKE Goals ier ee of other dnargee tan theve cortege ‘or freight or passage BOYD HINCKEN, ‘hi \bins are elegant and commodious, and with whatever can conduce to the ease and ‘comfort f jinn wor. ie te captains or owners of these ships will be respon them, » tareay parcels packages sat DY Unless Tegela: tor RVOODRULL & MINTURNS, orte FIRLDEN, SEN mor The Poetry of the Bi In tracing the connexion of poetry with subjects most f-equently and naturally presented to our con- templation, we observe how it may be associated with our pursuits, £0 as (0 give interest to what is familiar, to refine what is material, and to heighten what issublime. We now open the Bible, and find that poetry as a principle of intellectual enjoyment derived from association, is also diffused through every page ot the sacred volume, and so diflused, that the simplest child, as well as the profoundest sage, may feel its presence. This in fact, is the great merit of poetry, (a merit which in no other volume but the Bible, can be found in perfection,) that it addresses itself so immediately to the pri rlrees of feeling inherent in our nature, as to be in- teltigible to those who have made but little progress inthe paths of learning, at the same time that it presents a seurce of the highest gratification to the scholar and the philosopher. Let us refer as an ex- ample, to the first chapter of Genesis:— ir the beginning, God created the heaven and the arth. e And the carth was without form and void; and dark- ness was Spon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. ‘And God sail, Let there be light ; and there was light. Achild but just grown familiar with the words contained in these verses, not only understands their meaning here, but feels something of their sublimity—something of the power and the mp: ty of the God who could create this wonderful world, whose spirit moved upon the tace of the wa- ters, and who said, Let there be light; and there was light! While learned men of ali ages have agreed, that no possible combination of words could express more clearly and powerfully than these, the potency of the first operations of Almighty power of which mankind have any record. We have more than once observed that poetry must have some reference, either uniformly or par- tialiy, to our own gircumstances, situation, or expe- nience, as well as to the more remote and varied conceptions of the imagination; and in the Scrip- tures, we find this fact fully illustrated. Witness the frequent recurrence of these simple words—and God said. We are not told that the mandates of Almighty power issued forth from the heavens, but simply that God said: a mode of speech familiar to the least cultivated understanding, yetin no danger of losing its sublimity as used here, because imme- diately after, follow those manifestations, of uni- versa) subordination which give us the most for- eible idea of the omnipotence of Divine will. jAzein, after the transgression of our first parents, when they heard the voice of the Lord God walk- ing in the garden in the cool of the day : and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the garden. And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou 7 And he said, I heard thy.voice in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked ; and I hid myself. What description of shame and abasement can be more true to human nature than this? But the cha- racter of Cain affords the earliest, the most consis- tent, and perhaps, the most powerful exemplifica- tions of desires and effections perverted from their original purity and singleness of purpose. Cain, the second man who breathed upon the newly-created earth, felt all the stirrings of envy and jealousy, precisely as we feel them at this day, and he ed with ‘Abel his brother : and it came pat en they were in the field, that Cain rose up ogainst Abel his Brother, and slew him: And the Lord said unto ,W here is Abel thy brother? cnd he said, I know not : am I my brother’s keeper ? And he said, What hast thou done ? the voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receivethy brother’s blood from thy hand ; hen thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee her strength ; @ fugitive and a vagabond shalt thou be in the earth. And Cain said unto the Lord, Mypunishment is greater that 1 can bear. Behold, thou hast driven me ont this rs aes the face of the earth ; and from thy face shalllbe hid ; and I shall bea fugitive and a vagabond in the earth ; and it . all come to pass, that every one that findeth me shall slay me. nd the Lord said unto him, Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon Cain, lest any finding him should kiilhim. And Cain went out from the presence of the Lord. Am I my brother’s keeper? is a question with which we are too apt to answer the reproaches ot conscience, when we have violated the most im- ortant trust or neglected the duties which ought te be the dearest in life. | And what sufferer under the first infliction ot chastisement, conseque nt upon his own transgressions, has not given utterance to the expressive Janguage—my punishment is greater than I can bear? Thus far this striking passage contains what is familiar and natural to every hu- man being, but beyond this, yet at the same time connected with it, it has great power and even sub- limity, in no instance more so, than where it is said, that Cain went out from the presence of the Lord. The peculiarly emphatic manner in which the Lord promises to bless Abraham, saying— I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth thee: and in thee shall all the families of the earth be blessed. As well as afterwards when— the Lord came unto Abram in avision, say- ing, Fear not, Abram : 1am thy shield, and thy exceeding great reward—_ i is comprehensive and full of meaning beyond what more elaborate language could possibly convey. And after the separation from Lot, where the Lord said unto Abraham, Lift up now thine eyes, and look from the place where thou art, northward, and southward, and eastward and westward : For all the land which thou seest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed for ever, Ani I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth : so that if a man can number the dust of theearth, then shall thy seed also be numbered. Arise, walk through the land in the length 0 in the breadth of it ; for I will give it unto thee. Then Abram removed his tent, and came and dwelt in the plain of Mamre, which is in Hebron, and built there an altar to the Lerd. Here the act ofstretching the sight to the north- ward, and southward, and eastward, and westward, and walking through the land in the length of it, und in the breadth of it, presents to the mind ideas of space and distance, at once simple and sublime 5 and when we read that whenever the faith{ul patri- arch found rest in his wanderings, he built there an altar to the Lord, our thoughts are led on by a na- tural transition to our own experience, to ask what record we have left, or could leave in the ape to prove that the same divine presence was wit! our journey through life. ‘ ‘The story of Hagar is one of great poetical inter- est. We pursue the destitute mother and her help- legs child into the solitude of the wilderness, and belhiold a picture which has become proverbial for the utter desolation which it represents. Compel- ledby a stern necessity, with the ultimate good of which she was wholly unacquainted, the mother gors forth as she believes, unfriended and alone, to trust herself and the treasure of her aflections to the mercy of the elements, and the shelter of the pathiess wilds, unconscious that her peculiar situa- tion is made the especial care of the Father of the fatherless, and the Protector of the forlorn. And the water was spent ia the bottle, and she castthe child under one of the shrubs. Andshe went, and sat her down over against him, a good way off, as it were a bow-shot; for she said, Let mo not see the death of the child. Andshe satover against him, and lift up her voice and wept. And God rd the voice of theflad; andthe angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven, ond said unto her, What aileth thee, Hagar? Fear not; for God hath he ard the voice of the lad, where he is. Arise, lift up the lad,anihold him in thine hand; for! will make him a great nation. And in the following chapter, where Abraham, faithful, even tothe resigning his dearest treasure, goes forth with his son, prepared torender him up if the Lord should require it at his hand ; And Isaac spake unte Abraham his father, and said, My father? and he said, Here am J, my sor ind he said, Behold the fire ond the wood; but where isthe lamb for a burnt offering? And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a burnt offering, so they went both of them together. How strong must have been the faith of the pa- triarch at this moment, orif not, how agonizing his feelings asa father! Butif there were any of the natural struggles of humanity between his faith and his love, they are sealed to us, by the simple and beautiful conclusion,—so they went both of them together. a Z * Yet itis not merely in particular instances, such as may be singled out forexamples, that we see and feel the poetry even of the historical parts of the Bible. * The seperate accounts of the creation and the deluge, handed down to us in langu: the most intelligible and unadorned, present to the im- aginatioh pictures of sublimity so awful and impres sive, that tt seems not improbable we may in some measure have derived our ideas of sublimity and power, from impressions made by our first reading of the Bible. Beside which, we find descriptions of the desert, and the wilderness, the wells of wa ter, and che goodly pastures, of the intercourse of angels with the children of men, and of the visita- tions of the Supreme Intelligence, if not personally, yand in the different manifestations of his power and his love~as a voice, and an impulse—all conveyed to us in language as simple asif a shepherd spoke of his flocks upon the mountain—as sublime as if an angel wrote the record of the world. Nor is the poetry of the Bible by any means con- fiaed to thos passages in which the power of the Al- mighty 1s exhibited as operating upon this infant world. The same influence extending over the passions and affections of human nature, is de- scribed with the most touching pathos, and the most impressive truth. That moving and controlling in- fluence, so frequently spoken of as the word of the Lord coming with irresistible power upon the in- struments of his w: no where set belore usin a stronger light, than the character ot Balaam, when he declared that if Balak wonld give him his house full of silver and gold he could not go beyond the word of the Lord his God to do less or more.— Not even when he stood upon the high place amidat the seven altara with the burning sacrifice, and all the princes of Moab around him, and knew that the express object of his calling was to curse the eople whom the Most High had blessed; yet here efore the multitudes assembled to hear the confir- mation of their hopes, he was compelled to ac- knowledge how those hopes were defeated; eay- ing, —-~ Balak, the king of Moab, hath brought me from Aram, out of the mountains of the east, saying, Come, curse me Jacob, and come, defy me Israel. How shail Icurso, whom God hath not cursed? or how shalil defy, whom the Lord hath not defied? For from the top of the rocks I see him, and from the hills T behold him; lo, the people shall dwell alone, and shall not be reckoned among the nations. Who can count the dust of Jacob, and the number of the fourth port of Israel? Let me die the death of the righteons, and let my last end be like his. ‘And Balak said unto Balaam, What hast thou done un- tome? Itookthee to curse mine enemies, and, behold, thou hast blessed them altogether. And he answered and said, Must I not take heed to speak that which the Lord hath put into my mouth? Although Balaam knew that by obeying the word of the Lord he was sacrificing the fayour of his master, who had promised to promote him to hon- our, yet again, when brought to the top of another mountain with the vain hope of escaping from the power of Omnipotence—when seven altars were again built, and seven builocks and seven rams sa- crificed, the people of Moab were again tol: that the Lord ———hath not beheld iniquity in Jacob, neither hath he seen perverseness in Israel; the Lord his God ia with him, and the shout of a king is among them.§ Disappointed and defeated, Balak now very natu- rally exclaims, Neither curse them at all, nor bless them at all. Yet still willing to try for the third and last time, the power of Man against his Maker, he leads Balaam to the top of Mount Peor, where the same ceremonial gives the sanction of truth, and the majesty of power, to the words of the prophet; and here itis that he pours forth for the last time a a blessing, still richer and more unlimited than be- fore, beginning with the beautiful and poetic lan- guage— How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, and thy taberna. cles, O Israel! Asthe valleys are they spread forth, as gardens by the river’s side, as the trees of lign aloes which the Lord hath planted, and as cedar trees beside the waters. To those who are best acquainted with the poe- try of the human heart, the sad history of Jeythah and his daughter affords particular interest, told as it is in language never yet exceeded for simplicity and genuine beauty, by any of the numerous wri ters who have given us, both in prose and verse, imaginary details of this melancholy story. And Jepthah vowed a yow unto the Lord, and said, if thou shalt without fail deliver the children of Ammon into mine hands, Then it shall be, that whatsoever cometh forth of the, dovrsof my house to moet me, when I return 1 peace from the children of Ammon, shall surely be the Lord’s, and I willoffer it up fora burnt-offering. So Jephthah passed over unto the children of Ammon to fight egainst them; and the Lord delivered them isto hishands, Aad he smote them from Aroer, even till thou com» ‘0 Minnith, even twenty cities, and unto the plain o! « vineyards, with avery great slaughter. Thus the os of Ammon were subdued before the children rael. po unto his house, to meet him with timbrels is ouly child; beside her pass, when he saw her, that he rent his clothes, and said, Alas, my daughter! ‘Thou hast bi t me very low; and thou art one of them that trouble me; for} have opened my mouth unto the Lord, and I cannot ‘0 back. : And she said unto him, my father, if thou hast opened thy mouth unto the Lord, do to me according to that which hath proceeded out of thy mouth; forasmuch as the Lord hath taken vengeance for thee of thine enemies even ofthe children of Ammon. it The character of Samson displays in a powerful manner that combination of strength and weakness, which too frequently produces the most fatal and irrevocable ruin. It is a character well worthy of our greatest poet, yet one, to the interest of which his genius could add nothing, and (what is saying much) could expatiate upon without taking anvthing way. We firstbehold Samson as the man before whom the Philistines trembled, after rend- ing the lion, and scattering thousands with a single arm, stooping to the dalliance of a false and worth- less woman—three times deceived—wantonly and wickedly deceived, yet trusting her at last with the secret of his strength. Next, betrayed into the hands of his enemies, we find him, “ Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves.” And lastly, as if this punishment were not suffi cient, he is led forth and placed between the pillars in the public hall of entertainment, to make sport at the festival of his enemies, rejoicing in his weak- ness and his bonds; where the indignation of his unconquerable soul finally nerves him for that tre- mendous act of retributive vengeance, by which the death of Samson is commemorated { The story of Ruth is familiar in its touching pa- thos, to every feeling heart; as well as intrinsieally beautiful to every poetic mind. What, for instance, can exceed the description of the separation of the ve when their mother entreats them to leave er. And they lifted up their voice and wept again; and Or- pah kissed her mother-in-law; but Ruth clave unto her. And she said, Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone back un- to her people, and unto hergods; return thou after thy sister-in-law. And Ruth said, Entreat mo not to leave thee, or to re- turn from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; aud where thon lodgest, I willlodge; thy peo- pies! ait ‘be my people, and thy God my Gud. Where thou diest will I die, an’ there will I be buried; the Lord do 80 to me, and more also, if aught bnt death part thee and me. In speaking of poetry as it relates to the passions, and to the minor impulses, and finer sensibilities of human nature, as wellas tothe scenes and circum- stances most calculated for their development, we have no hesitation in pointing out the life and cha- racter of Saul, as one, abounding perhaps more than any other in the Scriptures, with poetical interest. The book of Job is one of poetry itself, yet the cha- racter of the eublime sufferer doesnot aflord the variety exhibited in that of Saul. Prostrate in the dust of the earth. and still holding communion with the Deity, we behold him as an isolated being, struck out from the com:non lot, and set apart for a particular dispensation, whose severity was sufficient to filla more human heart with bitterness. But the experience of Saul is that of a more ordinary man, with whom we can fully sympathize, as we go along with him through those great national and social changes, by which men of commen mould are often placed before the world ina point of view so strikin: and important as to entitle them to the name of great. e recognize in the King of Israel the same motives and feelings by which men in all ages have been influenced; yet while we speak of him ava less extraordinary character than Job, it is only so faras the features of his character are more intelli- ible and familiar to our observation and experience; ‘or everything recorded of him in his eventtul his- tory, bespeaks a mind imbued at the same time with power and sensibility, and a soul capable of the extremes both of good and evil. We behold him first a simple youth—a choice oung man, and a goodly, so unconscious of the igh honor which awaited him, that when Samuel emphatically asks, ‘Is not the deeire of the people on thee, and on thy father’s house?” he answers with perfect lramility and simplicity of heart, Am not I a Benjamite, of the smallest of the tribes of Israel? and my family the least of all the families of the Lard of Benjamin? wherefore then speakest thou fo ‘» me Yet, it was so, that when he hod turned his ba go from Samuel, God gave him another heart. We have no reason to suppose an an heart, but rather a heart enlarged witha conception of the favor ot the Almighty, and filled with the epirit of prophecy, and with ali heavenward aspira- tions: so that, under a sense of the responsibility of sending forth az a king, an edict among his people, he built an altar unto the Lord, and asked counee! of God before he went down after the Philistines. Thus far we find him obedient as a man, and faith- ful as a sovereign; for his heart was yet uncorrupt- ed by the temptations which surround a throne; but the power of leading and governing others soon produced its natural and frequent consequence disposition to be guided by his own inclination, and to resist all higher authority. Thus, when com- manded to go and smite the Amalek ites, and utter- ly to slay both mea and women, infant and suck- ling, ox and sheep, camel and ass, he spared Agee and the best of the sheep, and of the oxen, and o| the fatlings, and of the lambs, and all that was good, and would not utterly destroy them; thereby trans- gressing the great paramount law, no less necessary for the right government of an infant mind than for an infant world—the law of obedience. Then came the word of the Lord unto Samuel, sayi It repenteth me that [ have set up Saul to be king ho is turned back irom following me, and hath not per. formed my commandments. And it grieved Samuel, and he cried unto the Lord all night. : And when Samuel rose up early to meet Saul in the morning, it was told Samuel, saying, Saul came up to Carmel, and, behold, he set him upa'place, and is gone about, passed on, and gone down to Gilgal. b And uel came to Sau ind Saul said unto him, Blessed be tou of the Lord: I have performed the com- mandment of the Lord, And Samuel said, What meaneth then this bleating of the sheep in mine ears, and the lowing of the oxen which ear’ And 8 id, They have brongit them from the Amalekites : for the people spared the best of the sheep and of the oxen, to sacrifice unto the Lord thy God; and the rest we have utterly destroyed. Then Samuel said unto Saul, Stay, and I will tell thee what tne Lord hath sail to me this night. And he said unto him, Say en, And Samuel said, When thou wast little in thine own sight, wast thou not made the head of the tribes of Israel, and the Lord anointed thee king over Israel ? And the Lord gent thee on a journey, and said, Go ond utierly destroy the sinners of the Amalekites, an’ fight against them until they be consumed. Wherefore then didat thou not obey the voice of the Lord, but didst fly upon the spoil, and didst evil in the sight of the Lord ? After this reproof from Samuel, Saul again en- deavors to justify himself by proving that the reser- vation he had made was solely for the purpose of sacrificing to the Lord, when the prophet emphati- cally asks, Hath the Lord as great delight in burnt offerings and sacrifices, as in obeying the voice of the Lord? Behold, to obey is better than sacrifice, and to hearken than the fat of rams, To Samuel, who seems hitherto to have stood in the capacity of an intercessor between him and the Divine Majesty, Saul now humbles himself, and en- treats that he will pardon his sin, and turn again with him, that he may worship the Lord. And when still rejected, he humbles himself yet more, and prays (Oh! how naturally!) that at least the prophet will honor him before the people, that the world may not witness his degradation. And now Samuel yields, but we are told soon after that he came no more to see Saul until the day of his death; nevertheless he mourned for him, and the Lord re- pented that he had made Saul king over Israel. And the Spirit of the Lord departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the Lord troubled him. Ifow descriptive is this passage of this gradual falling away from Divine favour, which sometimes darkens and weighs down the soul, filling it wh gloomy thoughts, and sad forebodings, long before the melancholy change is perceptible in the out. ward character. And how strikingly does it illus- trate the hidden, and to us mysterious work- ings of the great plan of Providence, that the future king of Israel, already secretly appointed by Divine commission, should be the min- strel chosen to come and charm away, with the me- Jody of his harp, the evil spirit from the mind of his predecessor in anthority; and that Saul should arise relieved and refreshed by the music of the instra- ment of his future torment. For it is not long be- fore envy enters into his heart, adding its envenom- ed stings to the anguish heis already enduring. He hears the song of the dancing women as they meet him with tabrets and with oy; answering one ano- ther, and saying, that Saul hath slaia his thousands, and David his tens of thousands, and he asks, What ean David have more but the kingdom? Yet after this he promises him his daughter in marriage, but sickly repentiog him of the purposed honour, be- 5 erupon another. Again, hoping she may be nare to him, he offers him his second daughter; d then we are told that he saw and knew that the ord was with David, and that his daughter loved him. And Saul was yet the more afraid of David; and he became his enemy continually: yet once more at the earaest intercession of Jonathan, Saul consents to receive David again into his presence. And Jonathan called David, and Jonathan shewed him | those things. Aud Jonathan brought David to Saul, \d he was in his presence as in times past. And there was war again: and David went out and fought with the Philistines, and slew them with a great slaughter; and they fled from him And the evil spirit from the Lord was upon Saul, as he sat in his house with his javelin in his hand: and David played with his hand. And Saulsought to smite David even to the wall with the javelin ; but he slipped away out of Sant’s presence, and he smote the javelin into the wall: and David fled, and escaped that night. The struggle was now passed. The early tenden- cy of the soul of the king to seek, and to do good, was finally subdued, and he went forth to pursue the chosey, of the Lord, as an open and avowed enemy; yet, endeavouring to justify himself by proving that David had first risen up against him, he appeals to his servants, and fully conscious that his cause would not stand the test of impartial exami- nation, he appealsto their interest, and to their com- passion, rather than to their judgment. Hear now, ye Benjamites; will the son of Jesse give every one of you fields ana vineyards, and make you all rete of thousand: id fie ef hundreds ; ‘hat all of you have conspired against me, and there is none that sheweth me that my son hath made a league with the son of Jesse, and there 1s none of you t for me, or sheweth unto me that my son hat! my servant against me, to lie in wait, as at thi Filled with rancour and jealousy, heightened by the rising fame and influence of David, Saul pursues him to the wilderness of Engedi, where we meet with a remarkable instance of forbearance on the ae of a persecuted man. With the skirt of the ing’s robe in his hand, David shows him that he had advanced so near his person as to have beenable with the same facility to destroy his life, but that he pared him from reverence for the Lord’s anointed. hen struck at once with a sense of his own re- cent danger, with the honourable dealing of one whom he believed to be as enemy, with the sight of the man he had once loved—loved in the days when his heart was not as now, seared with the worst of pees and perhaps tonched more than all with the tones of the voice, which in those hap- pier days had been his music, Saul exclaims. Is this thy voice, my gon David? then he lifted up bis voice and wept. After this burst of tenderness, his heart is opened to express the full sense he had of David’s superiority, and the strong feeling ever pre- sent to his mind, that he should one day be com- eae to resign the reins of government into his ands. And he said to David, thou art more righteons than I; for thou hast rewarded me good, whereas I have reward: ed thee evil. And now, beholi, | Know well that thou shalt ly be king, and that the Kingdom of Israel shall be established in thine hand. Through the whole of this history, we trace the same strong and natural developement of feeling, which all our most talented authors aspire to in their descriptions, aud upon which they chiefly depend for the poeticalinterest of what they describe. But while in the character of Saul are forcibly portrayed the fatal workings of the passions of envy, jealousy, and remorse, accompanied with many of those de- licate shades, which denote the latest yearnings af- ter good, *nd the earliest tendency to evil, the char- acter of David is scarcely less poetical in its strength and beauty, and consistency, varied by a few in- stancesof natural weakness, producing their own atonemeht in the humiliation, the abasement, the agony of mind, and the final welcome back to Di- vine love, by which they are succeeded. The attachment between David and Jonathan is perhaps the most beautiful and perfect instance of true friendship which we have on record. Asa shepherd, and a prince, their first covenant is made. Then Jonathan and David made a covenant, because he loved hi his own soul. ‘And Jonathan stripped off the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, end to his girdle. WAT And we see the same covenant binding them to- ether through all the changes of their after life ; or Jonathan, who loved the simple minstrel boy that charmed away the evil ft from his father, knew not the envy of Saul when that minstrel be- came a man of war, and multitades were gathered rath hisbanner. And David, persecuted as he v the father of his friend, never once betrayed 's himor his, the bitterness of an injured st followed him even to his death, with the ¢ due to the Lord’s anointed. 1: is then (uat ie pours forth, both for Sautand Jonahan,that beautiful and affecting lamentation, which no lan- guage can exceed in poetry and pathos. The beauty of Israel is slain upon thy high places: how are the mighty fallen | pidebion dined aR Tell it not in Gath, publish it not‘in the streets of As- kelon, lest the daughters of the Philistines rejoice, lest the daughters of the uncircumcised triumph. Ye mountains of Gilboa, let there be no dew, neither let there be rain upon you, nor fields of offerings ; for there the shield of the mighty is vilely cast away, the shield of Saul, as though hehad not been anointed with Price Two Cents, From the blood of the » from the fat of the how of Jonathan turned not baci, anh the eat Saul petarnae Bat caiEy jonathan were lovely and pleasant i death they were not divided; they nen eit ter than eagles; they were stronger than lions, Ye daughters of Israel, weep over Saul, who clothed you in scarlet, with other delights, who put on ornaments of gold upon your apparel. low are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle |— O Jonathan, thou wast slain in thine high places. Tam distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan; very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was won- derfal, passing the love of woman. Far the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished ! There is an instance of maternal affection recor- ded in the 2ist chapter of the same book, which in speaking of the strength of human passions ought not to be passed over without notice. It is where David was commanded to destroy the remnant of the house of Saul, and sevensons of the late king were delivered up into his hand, but he spared Me- pailcahieth, the son of Jonathan, because of the ord’s oath that was between David and Jonathan. But the king took the two sons of Rizpah, the daughter of Aish, whom she bare unto ‘Saul, Arment and fephi- bosheth ; and the five sona of Michal, the daughter of Saul, whom she brought up for Adriel,the son ef Barzil- lai, the Meholathite. And he delivered them into tho hands of the Gibeonites, and they hanged them in the hill before the Lord: and they fell all seven together, and were put to death in the days of harvest, in the first days, in the beginning of bar. ley harves' And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the reck, from the beginning of harvest, until water dropped upon them out of heaven, and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night. Of allthe instances, imaginary or real, handed down to us by fable or history, we have not one ot amore intense and devoted love than this. A soli- tary woman seated upon a rock, watching the wast- ing boties of hertwo dead sons, day after day— night after night—with no shelter but the open cano- py of heaven—no repose but the sackcloth spread upon the rock; an emblem of her own abasement— no hope but to see the last—the very last of all she loved—no consolation but her constancy—no eup- port but the magnitude of her own incommunicable grief. It was the beginning of harvest, and the feet of a busy multitude might come and go beneath that solitary rock—the shout of gladness—the accla- mation ofthe joyous reapers might be heard from the valleys below; but there she sat in her loneli- ness upon the dismal watch tower of death, faithful to her silent and sacred trust, euflering neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day,nor the beasts of the field by night. A great proportion of the Holy Scriptures is not only poetical, but real poetry. Under this head the song of Moses, and the children of Israel, is tho first instance that occurs. Jn this song, the pas- gage of the children of Jsrael through the Red Sea, the overthrow of Pharaoh’s host, and the wonder- ful dealing of the Lord with his chosen people, are commemorated in language highly figurative and sublime. R We now conclude this minute examination of the Scriptures, not only because it is unnecessary for our purpose to pursue it further, but because we should soon arrive at those portions of the sacred record, which censist entirely of poetry, the most genuine and sublime. We have already seen enough to convince us that the same principle which 1s associated with our highest intellectual enjoyments, is diftused—copiously diflused through- out the written revelation of eternal truth, a revela- tion whose wonderful adaptation to every variety of human nature, feeling, and condition, carries along with it the clearest evidence of its divine authority. Coeval with the infancy of time, it still remains,and widens in the circle of its intelligence. Simple as the language of a child, it charms the most fasti- dious taste. Mournful as the voice of grief, it reaches to the highest pitch of exultation. ‘ In- telligible to the unlearned peasant, it supplies the critic and the sage with food for ear- nest thought. Silent and secret as the reproots of conscience, it echoes beneath the vaulted dome of the cathedral and shakes the trembling multi- tude. The last companion of the dying and the destitute, it seals the bridal vow, and crowns the majesty of kings. Closed in the heedlees grasp of the luxurious and the slothful, it unfolds its awful record over the yawning grave. Sweet, and gen- tle, and consoling to the pure in heart, it thunders and threatens against the unawakened inind. Bright and joyous as the morning star to the be- nighted traveller, it rolls like the waters of the de- luge over Tie ate him who wiltully mistakes his way. And, finally, adapting itself to every shade of human character, and to every grade of moral feel- ing, it instructs the ignorant, woos the gentle, con- soles the afflicted, encourages the desponding, rouses the negligent. threatens the rebellious, pe home to the reprobate, and condemns the guilty. It may be observed, that all this might have been effected without the instrumentality of the principle of poetry ; and co unquestionably it might, had. the j Creator of the human heart seen meet to adapt it to different means of instruction ; but as that heart is constituted, the delicate touches of feeling to be found in every part of the Holy Scriptures accord peculiarly with its sensibilities; the graceful orna- ments which adorn the language of the bible cor- respond to the impressions it has received, the idees which have consequently been formed of the princi- ples of taste and beauty; and by no other medium that we are capable of conceiving, could the human heart have been more forcibly assured of the truths to which belong eternal life. _ Had the bible been without its poetical character, we should have wanted the voice of an angel to re- commend it to the acceptance of mankind. Prone as we are to neglect this banquet upon which the most exalted mind may freely and fully fe we should then have regarded it with tentold disdain. But such is the unlimited: goodness of him who knew from the beginning what was in the heart of man, that not only the wide creation is so designed as to accord with our views of what 1s magnificent and beautiful, and thus to remind us of his glory; but even the record of his imme- diate dealing with his rationaland responsible cren- tures, isso filled withthe true melody of language, as to harmonise with all our most tender, refined, anc elevated thoughts. With our established ideas of beauty, and Caray ge pathos, and sublimity, either concentrated in the minutest point, or extended to the widest range, we can derive from the Scriptures a fund of gratification not to be found inany other tmemorialof pastor present time. Fromthe worm that grovels in the dust beneath our [eet, tothe track of the leviathan in the foaming deep—fromthe moth that corrupts the secret treasure, to the Ke ey that soars above his eyry in the clouds—jrom the wild ass in the desert, to the lamb «within the shepherd’s fold—from the consuming locus’, to the cattle upon a thousand hills—from the rose of Sharon to the ce- dar of Lebanon—trom the crys tream gushing forth outof the flinty rock, to the wide waters of the deluge—from the barren waste to the fruitful vineyard, and the land flowing with milk and honey —from the lonely path of the wanderer, to the gathe- ring of a mighty multituede—frem the tear that falls ia secret, to the din of battle, and the shout of triumphant kost—{rom the solitary in the wilderness tothesatrap on his throne—fromthe meurner clad in sackcloth, to the prince in purple robes—from the gnawings of the worm that dieth not, to the sera- phic visions of the blest—from the still small veice, to the thunders of Omnipotence—from the depths of hell, te the regions of eternal glory, there is no de- gree of beauty or deformity, no tendency to good or evil, noshade of darkness or gleam of light, which does not come within the cognizance of the Holy Scriptures; and therefore there is no impression or conception of the mind hat may not find a corres- ponding piciure, no thirstfor excellence that may not meet with its fullsupply, and no condition of hu- manity necessarily excluded from the unlimited scope of adaptation and of sympathy comprehended in the language and the spirit of the Bible. _ How gracious then—how wonderful and harmo- nious, is that majestic plan by which one ethereal principle, like an electric chain of lightand life, ex- tends through the very elements of our existence, giving music to language, elevation tothought, vita- lity to feeling, and inteasity, and power, and beauty and happiness, to the exercise of every faculty of the human soul ! el DEAFNESS. 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