Upon the first intelligence of this event, I obliged the Indians to deliver the murderer into my hands; and though, to have punished him by our laws on principles of justice, would have been, perhaps, unprecedented, he certainly should have suffered an ignominious death, had I not been convinced, by my circumstances and observation, beyond the possibility of a doubt, that a pardon, under the terms which I presented, and they accepted, would be more efficacious than an execution, to prevent similar mischiefs "

Virtue and Happiness.

One night, when balmy slumbers shed
Their peaceful poppies o'er my head,
My fancy led me to explore

A thousand scenes unknown before.
I saw a plain extended wide,

And crowds poured in from every side;
All seemed to start a different game,
Yet all declared their views the same:
The chase was Happiness, I found;
But all, alas! enchanted ground.

As Parnell says, my bosom wrought
With travail of uncertain thought;
And, as an angel helped the dean,
My angel chose to intervene.

The dress of each was much the same;
And Virtue was my seraph's name.
When thus the angel silence broke;
Her voice was music as she spoke.

"Take Pleasure, Wealth, and Pomp away,
And where is happiness?" you say.

"Tis here—and may be yours-for know,
I'm all that's happiness below.
To vice I leave tumultuous joys;
Mine is the still and softer voice,
That whispers peace when storms invade,
And music through the midnight shade.

"Come, then, be mine in ev'ry part,
Nor give me less than all your heart;
When troubles discompose your breast,
I'll enter there a cheerful guest:
My converse shall your cares beguile,
The little world within shall smile,
And then it scarce imports a jot,
Whether the great world frowns or not.

"And when the closing scenes prevail,
When wealth, state, pleasure, all shall fail;
All that a foolish world admires,
Or passion craves, or pride inspires:
At that important hour of need,
Virtue shall prove a friend indeed!
My hands shall smooth thy dying bed,
My arm sustain thy drooping head:
And when the painful struggle 's o'er,
And that vain thing, the world, no more,
I'll bear my favorite son away
To rapture, and eternal day.

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LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-THIRD

An upright Prisoner.

Among the prisoners taken by the Americans at the battle of Hoosac, commonly called the battle of Bennington, was an inhabitant of Hancock, in the county of Berkshire, a plain farmer, named Richard

Jackson. This man had conscientiously taken the British side in the revolutionary contest, and felt himself bound to seize the earliest opportunity of employing himself in the service of his sovereign. Hearing that Colonel Baum was advancing with a body of troops towards Bennington, he rose early, saddled his norse, and rode to Hoosac, intending to attach himself to the corps. Here he was taken, in such circumstances as proved his intention beyond every reasonable doubt. He was, besides, too honest to deny it.

Accordingly, he was transmitted to Great Barrington, then the shire town of Berkshire, and placed in the hands of General Fellows, high sheriff of the county, who immediately confined him in the county gaol. This building was, at that time, so infirm, that, without a guard, no prisoner could be kept in it who wished to escape. To escape, however, was in no degree consonant with Richard's idea of right; and he thought no more of seriously making an attempt of this nature, than he would have done, had he been in his own house.

After he had lain quietly in gaol a few days, he told the sheriff that he was losing his time, and earning nothing, and wished that he would permit him to go out and work in the daytime, promising to return regularly, at evening, to his quarters in the prison. The sheriff had become acquainted with his character, and readily acceded to his proposal. Accordingly, Richard went out regularly during the remaining part of the autumn, and the following spring, until the beginning of May, and every night returned at the proper hour to the gaol. In this manner, he performed a day's work every day, with scarcely any exception but the Sabbath, through the whole period.

In the month of May, he was to be tried for high treason. The sheriff accordingly made preparations to conduct him to Springfield, where his trial was to

be held. But he told the sheriff that it was not worth his while to take this trouble, for he could just as well go alone; and it would save both the expense and trouble of the sheriff's journey.

The sheriff, after a little reflection, assented to the proposal, and Richard commenced his journey—the only one, it is believed, which was ever undertaken in the same manner, for the same object. In the woods of Tyringham, he was overtaken by the Honorable T. Edwards, from whom I had this story. Whither are you going?" said Mr. Edwards. "To Springfield, sir, answered Richard, "to be tried for my life." Accordingly, he proceeded directly to Springfield, surrendered himself to the sheriff of Hampshire, was tried, found guilty, and condemned to die.

The council of Massachusetts was, at this time, the supreme executive of the state. Application was made to this board for a pardon. The facts, the evidence by which they were supported, and the sentence grounded on them, were stated. The question was then put by the president, "Shall a pardon be granted to Richard Jackson?" The gentleman who first spoke, observed that the case was perfectly clear; the act alleged against Jackson was unquestionably high treason; and the proof was complete. If a pardon should be granted in this case, he saw no reason why it should not be granted in every other. In the same manner answered those who followed him.

When it came to the turn of Mr. Edwards, he told this story, with those little circumstances of particularity, which, though they are easily lost from the memory, and have escaped mine, give light and shade a living reality, and a picturesque impressiveness to every tale which is fitted to enforce conviction, or to touch the heart. At the same time, he recited it without enhancement, without expatiation, without any attempt to be pathetic. As is always the case, this

simplicity gave the narrative its full force. The council began to hesitate. One of the members at length observed, "Certainly such a man as this ought not to be sent to the gallows!" To his opinion the members unanimously assented. A pardon was immediately made out and transmitted to Springfield, and Richard returned to his family.

Never was a stronger proof exhibited, that honesty is wisdom.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-FOURTH.
Address to the Bible.

Be thou my star in reason's night!
Be thou my rock in danger's fright!
Be thou my joy mid passion's way!
My moon by night! my sun by day!

Be thou my hope midst dark'ning care!
When friends forsake, be thou my prayer!
When prosp'rous, be my constant stay!
My home through life's bewild'ring way!

Be thou my guide on error's sea!
My compass, chart, directing me!
When tossed on doubt's tumultuous tide,
Thy promises, my anchor bide!

Be thou my friend in want or pain!
In disappointment, be my gain!
When weeping for the dear, loved dead,
O wipe the tears these eyes may shed!

Be thou, when other lights shall fade,
My torch to guide me through the grave!
Be thou my passport to the sky!
My song through all eternity!