Most persons, who merely travel upon the river, without landing, would think West Point presented but few attractions. But we found it far different. The plain upon which the public and private buildings are situated, surrounded as it is, by the most grand and magnificent scenery, is truly a delightful place of residence. It does not resound with the hum of business, it is true; nor, when taking a peaceful walk, is the passenger momently in expectation of the pleasure of being jostled over by the crowd. The residents are also deprived of the musical strains of the chimney sweepers, at daylight; but instead thereof, those who choose can awake and listen to the brisk notes of the reveillé.

Including the officers, professors, and their families, together with the cadets, regular troops, artizans, and others attached in one way and another to the establishment, there are probably from five to six hundred people on the station. The genteel society is necessarily circumscribed to narrow limits; but it is select, intelligent, and very agreeable, and sufficiently numerous for pleasant literary circles, or convivial parties. Nor can we forget to mention the ladies, with whom we had the pleasure of becoming acquainted, and whose society diffuses a charm over these wild, romantic, and sequestered regions-

"For, even from boyhood, was my mind
A willing slave to woman's witchery;
On her I love to look, severe, or kind;
As the young eagle gazes on the sky,
Drinking the sun-beams with delighted eye."

There are some objects of curiosity and interest, at this place, to which we should like to direct the attention of the reader, if we had room. The park of artillery with which the cadets are occasionally exercised, is chiefly composed of beautful brass field pieces, taken from the French at Quebec, at the battle in which Wolfe lost his life, and again taken by the Americans from Burgoyne, in 1777. The old military store houses situated on a smaller plain, near the water's edge, at the north of the principal site, are well worthy of an examination. Here, in two or three large store houses

C

are collected together, as it would seem, a great portion of the relics of the arms, accoutrements and camp equipage of the revolutionary army. While sauntering among these large collections of decaying muskets, gunstocks, espontoons, blunderbusses, old military coats and dusty three-cornered cock'd hats-all looking as though in days gone by, they had seen some service,' we could not but revert back to that momentous period, when "the cry of invasion echoed from hill to hill, and from village to village ;" and when-

"From the grey sire, whose trembling hand
Could hardly buckle on his brand,
To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow
Were yet scarce terror to the crow,
Each valley, each sequestered glen,
Mustered its little horde of men,
That met as torrents from the height
In highland dale their streams unite;
Still gathering as they pour along,

A voice more loud, a tide more strong." But peace to their manes! The hands which wielded these rusty spears, and caused these bayonets once proudly to bristle in the air at every blast of the hostile bugle, are for the most part, mingled with their kindred dust. A few of these worthies yet linger upon earth, as if they were afraid to relinquish, entirely, the rich purchase of their youthful blood, to degenerate children.

II. UNCOMMON SELF-POSSESSION.

[Detroit Gazette.]

On the banks of the Naugatuck, a rapid stream, which rises in and flows through a very mountainous part of the state of Connecticut, a few years since lived a respectable family, by the name of B The father,

though not a wealthy, was a respectable man. He had fought the battles of his country in the revolution, and, from his familiarity with scenes of danger and peril, he had learned that it is always more prudent to preserve and affect the air of confidence in danger, than to betray signs of fear; and especially so, since his conduct might have a great influence upon the minds of those

about him. He had occasion to send a little son across the river to the house of a relation, on an errand, and, as there was then no bridge, the river must be forded.

The lad was familiar with every part of the fording place, and when the water was low, which was at this time the case, could cross without danger. But he had scarcely arrived at his place of destination, and done his errand, when suddenly, as is frequently the case in mountainous countries, the heavens became black with clouds, the winds blew with great violence, and the rain fell in torrents; it was near night, and became exceedingly dark. By the kindness of his friends, he was persuaded to relinquish his design of returning in the evening, and to wait until morning. The father suspected the cause of his delay, and was not over anxious on account of any accident that might happen to him during the night. But he knew that he had taught his son to render the most obsequious obedience to his father's commands; that, as he possessed a daring and fearless spirit, and would never be restrained by force, he would, as soon as it should be sufficiently light in the morning, attempt to ford the river on his return. He knew also, that the immense quantity of water that appeared to be falling, would, by morning, cause the river to rise to a considerable height, and make it dangerous, even for a man in full possession of strength and fortitude, to attempt to cross it. He therefore passed a sleepless night; anticipating, with all a father's feelings, what might befal his child in the morning.

The day dawned; the storm had ceased; the wind was still, and nothing was to be heard but the roar of the river. The rise of the river exceeded even the father's expectations, and no sooner was it sufficiently light to enable him to distinguish objects across it, than he placed himself on the bank to watch for the approach of his son, The son arrived on the opposite shore at the same moment, and was beginning to enter the stream. All the father's feelings were roused into action, for he knew that his son was in the most imminent danger. He had proceeded too far to return; in fact, to go forward or return was to incur the same

peril. His horse had arrived in the deepest part of the channel, and was struggling against the current, down which he was rapidly hurried, and apparently making but little progress toward the shore. The boy became alarmed, and raising his eyes towards the landing-place, he discovered his father: he exclaimed, almost frantic with fear, "O! I shall drown, I shall drown!" "No!" exclaimed the father, in a stern and resolute tone, and dismissing, for a moment, his feeling of tenderness, “If you do, I'll whip you to death; cling to your horse." The son, who feared a father more than the raging elements, obeyed his command, and the noble animal, on which he was mounted, struggling for some time, carried him safe to shore. "My son, "said the glad father, bursting into tears," remember, hereafter, that in danger, you must possess fortitude, and, determining to survive, cling to the last hope. Had I addressed you with the tenderness and fear, which I felt, your fate was inevitable; you would have been carried away in the current, and I should have seen you no more." What an example is here! The heroism, bravery, philosophy, and presence of mind of this man, even eclipses the conduct of Cæsar, when he said to his boatman, Quid times? Cæsarem vehis.

III. STUPENDOUS CAVERN. [Republican. Watertown, N. Y.]

THERE was discovered about three weeks since, on the north bank of the Black river, upon the land of James Le Ray, Esq. opposite to the village of Watertown, an extraordinary cavern, or grotto; the mouth of which, is about ten rods from the river, north of the falls and of Cowan's Island.

The great extent of the cavern, and the great number of spacious rooms, halls and chambers, into which it is divided, and the immense quantities of calcareous concretions, which it contains, and different states of those concretions, from the consistence of lime mortar, to that of the most beautiful stalactites, as hard as marble, render it difficult, if not impossible, to describe it, and I shall only attempt to give a faint description of three or four rooms.

The mouth of the cavern is in a small hollow, about five feet below the surrounding surface of the earth; you then descend sixteen and a half feet into a room, about 16 by 20 feet and 8 feet high; and behold in front of you, a large flat, or table rock, 12 or 14 feet square, 2 feet thick, and elevated about 4 feet from the bottom of the cavern; the roof over head covered with stalactites, some of which reach to the table rock. On your left hand, is an arched way, of 150 feet; and on your right hand, is another arched way, 6 feet broad at the bottom, and six feet high, which leads into a large room. Passing by this arch about 20 feet, you arrive at another, which leads into a hall 10 feet wide, and 100 feet long, from 5 to 8 feet high, supported with pillars and arches, and the sides bordered with curtains, plaited in variegated forms as white as snow. Near the middle of this hall, is an arched way, through which you pass into a large room; which, like the hall is bordered with curtains, and hung over with stalactites : returning into the hall, you pass through another arch, into a number of rooms on the left hand, curtained, and with stalactites hanging from the roof. You then descend about ten feet, into a chamber about twenty feet square, and two feet high, curtained in like manner, and hung over with stalactites. In one corner of this chamber, a small mound is formed about twelve feet in diameter, rising three feet from the floor; the top of which is hollow, and full of water from the drippings of stalactites above; some of which, reach near the basin.

Descending from this chamber, you pass through another arch into a hall, by the side of which, you see another basin of water, rising about four inches from the floor; formed in the same way, but in the shape, size, and thickness of a large tea-tray, full of the most pure and transparent water.

The number and spaciousness of the rooms, curtained and plaited with large plaits, extending along the walls from two to three feet from the roof; of the most perfect whiteness, resembling the most beautiful tapestry, with which the rooms are embroidered; and the large drops of water, which are constantly suspended on the