Soon after the civil war the family left their ancient seat, and removed to another part of the kingdom-but an old man now living in the village, named Reeves, who is ninety years of age, states that he remembers one of the Washingtons living in that part of the country when he was a boy; and that his great-grandfather remembered the last 'Squire Washington, living at the Manorhouse. The walls of the house are five feet thick, and the entire residence is surrounded by a beautiful garden and orchards. In the old parish archives the Washington family are constantly referred to as the benefactors of the parish; and from the very earliest recorded times they seem to have been the lords of the soil at Gardson, down to the period of their leaving-when the Manor-house fell into the hands of a family named Dobbs. "TO ALL NATIONS UNDER HEAVEN. "Know ye, That the people of the American world are millions strong-countless legions compose their united ARMY OF FREEMEN-whose intrepid souls sparkle with LIBERTY, and their hearts are flinted with courage to effect what their wisdom dictates to be done. AMERICA now stands with the scale of Justice in one hand, and "From the church and Manor or Court-house the sword of Vengeance in the other; and whatof Gardson, there are the remains of an ancient ever nation or people who dares to lift a hostile paved causeway, extending for about two miles hand against her, to invade her serene regions, to the far-famed abbey and cloisters of Malmes- or sully her liberty, shall Let the Britons bury, founded and endowed by King Athelstan- fear to do any more so wickedly as they have not only celebrated for its power and splendor in done, for the herculean arm of this NEW WORLD Catholic days, but also as being the birthplace and residence of 'William of Malmesbury'-one of the earliest of British historians."-Phila. Eng. INDIAN PARADISE. THE great doctrine of a life beyond the grave was, among all the tribes of America, most deeply cherished and most sincerely believed. They had even formed a distinct idea of the region whither they hoped to be transported, and of the new and happier mode of existence, free from those wars, tortures, and cruelties, which throw so dark a shade over their lot upon earth. Yet their conceptions on this subject were by no means either exalted or spiritualized. They expected simply a prolongation of their present life and enjoyments, under more favorable circumstances, and with the same objects furnished in greater choice and abundance. This supposed assurance of future life, so conformable to their gross habits and conceptions, was found by the missionaries a serious obstacle, when they attempted to allure them by the hope of a destiny, purer and higher indeed, but less accordant with their untutored conceptions. is lifted up-and wo be to them on whom it falls! At the beat of the drum she can call five hundred thousand of her SONS TO ARMS, before whose blazing shields none can stand. Therefore, ye that are wise, make peace with her, take shelter under her wings, that ye may shine by the reflection of her glory. "May the NEW YEAR shine propitious on the NEW WORLD, and Virtue and Liberty reign here without a foe, until rolling years shall measure time no more." MINERAL WEALTH OF AFRICA. M. Russager writes from Fasoglo, on the Blue River, February 8th, 1838:-"We found rivers. the alluvial soil of which is so rich in gold that the extracting of it is very feasible; but the richest spot of the whole became known to us quite at the end of our journey, in Fasoglo itself. Between the mountain ranges of Fallow and Fasongoru lies the valley of the river Adi. The whole valley is covered in an area of between two and three geographical square miles, with quartz Upon being told that in the promised world mountains, which contain quartzose, iron ore and they would neither hunt, eat, drink, nor marry a pure gold. We found this metal in considerable wife; many of them declared that, far from en- quantities in the solid rock and in the boulders of deavoring to reach such an abode, they would the river. I bring, among other specimens, a consider their arrival there as the greatest ca- piece of quartz, with pure gold in which there lamity. Mention is made of a Huron girl whom is a grain of gold of two carats. The alluvial one of the christian ministers was endeavoring soil between these quartz mountains in the whole to instruct and whose first question was, what she extent of the valley is, in fact, prodigiously rich would find to eat? The answer being "Nothing," in gold, and there are on the Adi many gold-washshe then asked what she would see; and being informed that she would see the Maker of heaven and earth, she expressed herself much at a loss what she could have to say to him. Many not only rejected this destiny for themselves, but were indignant at the efforts thus made to decoy their children into so dreary and comfortless a region. ings of the negroes, of which nobody has had till now, any information, so secretly did they contrive to keep the affair. A thousand men might be set to work here at once; and, with an extremely trifling charge, which would involve no expense, in the mode hitherto observed by the negroes themselves, one may obtain every day, gold to the amount of three or four dollars. THE TREACHERY OF ARNOLD. was from that venerable patriot's own lips that I obtained the narrative I now relate "I believe this was the only occasion, throughout that long and sometimes hopeless struggle, that Washington ever gave way, even for a moment, under a reverse of fortune; and perhaps I was the only bition of feeling so foreign to his temperament. human being who ever witnessed in him an exhi As it was, he recovered himself, before I had peru THE following facts relative to the treasonable acts of Benedict Arnold, and the providential frustration of his nefarious designs, we copy from a speech, delivered by ROBERT DALE OWEN, at New Harmony, Indiana, February the twenty-sed the communication that gave rise to his emosecond, 1840: The public events connected with Benedict Arnold's treachery are familiar to every one; but the private details of that story are, in the various histories of the period, either incorrectly given or essentially omitted. The surrender of West Point was but a small portion of Arnold's plan. He had projected the decoying thither, and the betrayal into Sir Henry Clinton's hands, of General Washington himself, of Lafayette and of the principal staff officers. Had this plan succeeded, how different might have been the story History would have to tell! tion; and when we returned to his staff, not a trace remained on his countenance either of grief or despondency." WASHINGTON IN THE FIELD OF VICTORY AND FROM Custis's Recollections of Washington, we copy the following, relating to the siege of Yorktown, and a domestic scene:— tated the military operations. Washington's headquarters were under canvass the whole time. A trifling circumstance caused its failure. Arnold had invited Washington (then, if I recol- The weather during the siege of Yorktown was lect aright, on his return from Hartford,) to propitious in the extreme, being, with the excep breakfast with him at West Point, on the very tion of the squall on the night of the sixteenth, morning the plot was discovered; and Washing- the fine autumnal weather of the south, commonton had promised to accept the invitation. He ly called the Indian summer, which greatly faciliwas prevented from doing so, by an urgent request made to him by an old officer, near to whose station he passed, that he would remain the night The situation of Yorktown, after the surrender, with him, and next morning inspect some works was pestilential. Numbers of wretched negroes in the neighborhood. Washington accordingly who had either been taken from the plantations, despatched an aid from his suite to make his ex- or had of themselves followed the fortunes of the cuses to Arnold. The messenger rode all night, British army, had died of the small-pox, which, and arrived next morning at West Point. Arnold with the camp-fever, was raging in the place, and invited him to breakfast. While sitting at table, remained unburied in the streets. When all hope a letter was brought to Arnold, from the post of of escape was given up, the horses of the British the officer commanding the scouting parties on Legion were led to the margin of the river, shot, the American lines. As his eye fell on the super- and then thrown into the stream; the carcasses, scription, the cup which he had raised to his lips floating with the tide, lodged on the adjacent dropped from his hands, he seized the letter, rush-shores and flats, producing an effluvia that affected from the room, locked himself in his bed-cham-ed the atmosphere for miles around. Indeed, it ber; and a few minutes afterward, was on his way was many months before Yorktown and its envito an English sloop of war, then lying in the North rons became sufficiently purified to be habitable with any degree of comfort. river. In the meantime, while Washington and his A domestic affliction threw a shade over staff, including Lafayette, were seated at table at Washington's happiness, while his camp still the quarters of the officer whose invitation had rung with shouts of triumph for the surrender of delayed the visit to West Point, a despatch was Yorktown. His step-son, to whom he had been brought to the American General, which he im- a parent and a protector, and to whom he was mediately opened, read and laid down without fondly attached, who had accompanied him to comment. No alteration was visible in his coun- the camp at Cambridge, and was among the first tenance, but he remained perfectly silent. Con- of his aids in the dawn of the Revolution, sickversation dropped among his suite; and, after some ened while on duty as extra aid to the commanderminutes, the General beckoned to Lafayette to in-chief, in the trenches before Yorktown. Aware follow him, retired to an inner apartment, turned that his disease, (the camp-fever) would be mortal, to Lafayette without uttering a syllable, placed the sufferer had yet one last lingering wish to be the fatal despatch in his hands, and then giving way gratified, and he would die content. It was to to an ungovernable burst of feeling-fell on his behold the surrender of the sword of Cornwallis friend's neck and sobbed aloud. The effect pro- He was supported to the ground, and witnessed duced on the young French Marquis, accustom-the admired spectacle, and was then removed to ed to regard his General, (cold and dignified in Eltham, a distance of thirty miles from camp. his usual manner almost to extreme,) as devoid of the usual weakness of humanity, may be imagined. "I believe," said Lafayette to me-for it An express from Dr. Craik announced that there was no longer hope, when Washington, attended by a single officer and a groom left the headquarters at midnight, and rode with all speeded upon the destinies of America, from the surfor Eltham. render of Yorktown. The anxious watchers by the couch of the lying were, in the gray of twilight, aroused by a trampling of horse, and looking out, discovered the commander-in-chief alighting from a jaded charger in the court-yard. He immediately summoned Dr. Craik, and to the eager inquiry: "Is there any hope?" Craik mournfully shaking his head, the general retired to a room to indulge his grief, requesting to be left alone. In a little while the poor sufferer expired. Washington, tenderly embracing the bereaved wife and mother, observed to the weeping group around the remains of him he so dearly loved: "From this moment I adopt his two youngest children as my own." Absorbed in grief he then waved with his hand a melancholy adieu, and, fresh horses. being ready, without rest or refreshment, he remounted and returned to the camp. For a great distance around Yorktown, the earth trembled under the cannonade, while many an anxious and midnight watcher ascended to the housetops to listen to the sound, and to look upon the horizon, lighted up by the blaze of the batteries, the explosions of the shells, and the flames from the burning vessels in the harbor. At length, on the morning of the seventeenth, the thundering ceased, hour after hour passed away, and the most attractive ear could not catch another sound. What had happened? Can he have escaped? To suppose he had fallen, was almost too much to hope for. And now an intense anxiety prevails; every eye is turned toward the great southern road, and the express! the express! is upon each lip. Each hamlet and homestead pours forth its inmates. Age is seen leaning on his staff, women with infants at the breast, children with wandering eyes, and tiny hands outstretched, all, all, with breathless hopes and fears, await the courier's coming. Ay, and the courier rode with a red spur that day; but had he been mounted on the wings of the wind, he could scarcely have kept pace with the general anxiety. At length there is a cry-He comes! he comes! and merging from a cloud of dust a horseman is seen at headlong speed. He plies the lash and spur; covered with foam, with throbbing flank, and nostril dilated to catch the breeze, the generous horse devours the road, while ever and anon the rider waves his cap, and shouts to the eager groups that crowd his way, "Cornwallis is taken!" And now rose a joyous cry that made the very welkin tremble. The tories, amazed, confounded, shrunk away to their holes and hiding-places, while the patriotic whigs rushed into each other's arms, and wept for gladness. And oh! in that day of general thanksgiving and praise, how many an aspiration ascended to the Most High, imploring blessing on him whom all Time will consecrate as the Father of his Country. The prediction of Cornwallis in the tent of The sixteenth of Washington was verified. October, 1781, was indeed the crowning glory of the war of the Revolution; hostilities languished thereafter, while Independence and Empire dawn On laying the Corner Stone of the Monument to the Mother of Washington.-MRS. SIGOURNEY. LONG hast thou slept unnoted. Nature stole In her soft ministry around thy bed, She bade bright Summer bring Gifts of frankincense, with sweet song of birds, But now we come To do thee homage, mother of our chief! Thou did'st not deem it woman's part to waste For the might that clothed Rise, sculptured pile, Ye, who stand, THE TOMB OF WASHINGTON. leaves, furnishing the most appropriate drapery for MOUNT VERNON is situated on the western bank of such a place, and giving a still deeper impression to the Potomack river, in Virginia, about fifteen miles the memento mori. Interspersed among the rocks, below the city of Washington, and eight miles from and overhanging the tomb, is a copse of red-cedar; Alexandria. It rises about two hundred feet above but whether native or transplanted, is not stated the surface of the river, and was designated Mount Its evergreen boughs present a fine contrast to the Vernon, in honour of Admiral Vernon, who conduct- hoary and leafless branches of the oak; and while ed an expedition against the Spaniards, in which the deciduous foliage of the latter indicates the Lawrence Washington served. Lawrence Wash-decay of the body, the eternal verdure of the former, ington was the brother of the president, and the furnishes a beautiful emblem of the immortal spirit." original proprietor of this delightful seat. Mount Vernon subsequently passed into the hands of the general, who resided there with his family when retired from the publick service. There his ashes now repose, together with those of his wife and several relatives of his family. "The mansion in which Washington resided till his death," says Reynolds, "is a plain edifice of wood, cut in imitation of freestone, two stories high, surmounted by a cupola, and ninety-six feet in length, with a portico in the rear, overlooking the river, extending the whole length of the building. The central part of this edifice was erected by Lawrence Washington, who named it Mount Vernon; the two wings were afterwards added by the general, who caused the ground to be planted and beautified in the most tasteful manner. The house fronts northwest, looking on a beautiful lawn of five or six acres, with a serpentine walk around it, fringed with shrubbery and planted with poplars." The ancient family-vault, in which Washington's dust first reposed, was situated under the shade of a little grove of forest-trees, a short distance from the mansion-house, and near the brow of the precipitous bank of the river. Small and unadorned, this humble sepulchre stood in a most romantick spot, and could be distinctly seen by travellers, as they passed in boats and vessels up and down the river. Within two years, however, the ashes of the father of his country have been removed from that place, now designated by a white picket fence, to one near the corner of a beautiful enclosure, where the river is concealed from view. This site was selected by him during life, for a tomb, and is about two hundred yards southwest from the house, and about one hundred and fifty from the bank of the Potomack. "A more romantick and picturesque site for a tomb," says a late writer, "can scarcely be imagined. Between it and the river Potomack is a curtain of forest-trees, covering the steep declivity to the water's edge, breaking the glare of the prospect, and yet affording glimpses of the river, even when the foliage is thickest. The tomb is surrounded by several large native oaks, which are venerable by their years, and which annually strew the sepulchre with autumnal When Lafayette was last in the United States, he visited the tomb of his ancient friend and companion. That visit is thus touchingly described by M. Levasseur:-"As we approached, the door of the tomb was opened; Lafayette descended alone into the vault, and a few minutes after he reappeared with his eyes overflowing with tears. He took his son and myself by the hand, and led us into the tomb, where, by a sign, he indicated the coffin of his paternal friend, alongside of which was that of his companion in life, united for ever to him in the grave. We knelt reverently near his coffin, which we respectfully saluted with our lips; rising, we threw ourselves into the arms of Lafayette, and mingled our tears with his.” "Flow gently, Potomack! thou washest away When youth brush'd his cheek with her wing; SPRING.-N. P. WILLIS. THE Spring is here-the delicate-footed May, Wasting in wood-paths its voluptuous hours- We We pass out from the city's feverish hum, Like a cool sleep upon the pulses broods. Strange, that the audible stillness of the noon, And the light whisper as their edges meet- There's no contentment in a world like this, |