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A NEW METHOD OF

STUDYING GEOGRAPHY.

with water at any time, so that the whole world, in its native elements, will be completely represented in miniature.

A NOVEL proposition has been made to the American Congress, in a memorial of Ira Hill, of Baltimore, 'If the proposed topographical for a grant of ten acres of land and delineation should be constructed ten thousand dollars capital, to en- on ten acres of ground, and deable him to construct in the city of scribed according to Mercator's Washington a geographical gar-projection, the lakes Erie and On

den.

tario would be each more than

The proposition of Mr. Hill pro-eight feet in length, and the Unimises to be of great utility.

This plan literally makes the paths of science to be strewed with flowers, and while it will serve to attract the young to the useful studies of geography and topography, it is admirably adapted to imprint strongly on their memories, as well as those of riper years, the important facts which it conveys, by the principles of association and location, which are the foundation of the Mnemonic Art.

The following extracts from the memorial will give the reader an idea of the intended garden:

ted States, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, will be 160 feet; and every country, kingdom, state and province, will be clearly delineated: the situations of all the important cities shall be so described as to convey a complete idea of them. The parallels of latitude and the meridians, shall be correctly laid down, as shall likewise the Equator, Ecliptic, the Tropics, and other circles.

'Such a topographical delineation of the world would possess many advantages over any map or chart that was ever described.

It

in more exact proportion, and their relative positions would be more clearly seen.

The various elevations of lands

'The memorialist proposes to will be made on so large a scale, form near the capital a geographi-that the countries will be laid down cal garden. In this, all the known parts of the world shall be accurately delineated. The beds of oceans, seas, gulfs, bays, and lakes, shall be depressed, and the continents, peninsulas, and isthmuses, mountains, islands, &c. shall be raised in proportion to their respective elevations on this terraqueous sphere.

'The beds of the oceans, &c. shall be covered with gravel, and the lands shall be adorned with verdure; and the mountains may rest on the same kind of stone as compose them in their natural state.

'The channels of rivers shall be described as in their natural courses, and lowered in proportion to the heights of their respective banks. If required, the beds of oceans, seas, &c. shall be so constructed, that they can be filled

on which the temperature of climate and the productions greatly depend, could here be clearly ascertained. The proper situations for roads, canals, and other improvements, may be seen at one view, so that a far more useful knowledge of the science of geography can be obtained by walking a few hours in this garden, than by reading in as many years.'

[This, though rather a romantic, is by no means an unpleasant theory-to comprise at one glance the whole face of the globe-to make the tour of Creation in a few hours' upon Terra Firma, is certainly an improvement upon the ancient method of acquiring geographical knowledge.--ED.]

served, sir I shall write your epitaph, for I perceive you have kicked the bucket.' Oh! no, replied he I have only turn'd a little pale.

Bower of Taste.

THE TOKEN,

(A New Year's Present.) WE acknowledge with pleasure the reception of Mr. Goodrich's elegant little volume, the 'Token.' With regard to its

Shenstone was one day walking through his romantic retreat, in company with his Delia (whose real name was Wilmot,) when a person rushed out of a thicket, and presenting a pistol to his breast, demanded his money. Shenstone was surprised, and Delia fainted. 'Money,' says he, 'is not worth struggling for. You cannot be poorer than I am; therefore, unhappy man, take it (throwing him his purse,) and fly as quickly as possible.' The man did so he threw his pistol into the water, and in a moment disap-typographical execution and embellishpeared. Shenstone ordered the foot boy who followed behind them, to pursue the robber at a distance, and observe whither he went. a short time the boy returned, The engravings are of the highest order, and informed his master that he and of the most exquisite finish, parfollowed the man to Hales Owen, ticularly the first, called the 'TWINS;' where he lived; that he went to the mild and benignant expression of the the very door of his house, and mother's face, is beautifully contrasted peeped through the key-hole; that with the sparkling eye, and joyous smile as soon as the man entered, he threw the purse on the ground, and addressing himself to his wife, 'take (says he) the dear-bought price of my honesty:' then taking two of his children, one on each knee, he said to them, 'I have ruined my soul, to keep you from starving; and immediately burst into a flood of tears. Shenstone inquired after the man's character, and found that he was a laborer, who was reputed honest and industrious, but oppressed by want and a numerous family. He went to his house, when the man kneeled down at his feet, and implored The two most important poems, (from mercy. Shenstone not only for- their being pronounced the best in the gave him, but gave him employ-book,) are 'the Soldier's Widow and ment as long as he lived.-London Connecticut River,' these were written

ments, it suffers very little in comparison with any European production of the In same character that we have ever seen.

Mirror.

A gentleman happened, to strike his foot against a pail which had been carelessly left on the side walk by a servant who was cleaning windows; a passing friend ob-I

of the infant, who is peeping from beneath her veil; it is a lovely picture!

The Token, has been so generally handed round in the circles of fashion and taste, and its merits and beauties, so universally discussed by critical judges, that it would seem superfluous for us to particularise its contents, we would, however, remark, that in some of its prose

articles we recognise much of the grace and spirit of Washington Irving, and in others the same tenderness and purity of style, that distinguishes Austin's Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.

by Mr. Willis and Mrs. Sigourney, joint competitors and (we believe) sharers of the prize of one hundred dollars, which was awarded to the best poetical production, that was offered for the Token. We may not be correct in this statement,

perhaps the spirit of gallantry may have Ganges, was presented for the first time,

induced our

Young 'Timotheus to yield the prize,
And not divide the crown' (with a lady.)
'He, raised a mortal to the skies,
She, drew an angel down.'

No comparison can exist between these compositions; each has its peculiar beauties but they are as unlike, as the sparkling fountain of a Parissian garden is to a smooth river, that winds its way through a luxuriant landscape, reflecting the placid hues of a summer sky. We think both authors are entitled to the civic honors they have won, and each, to an undivided wreath of fame. There are several other poems of much merit in the book; among these 'Childhood,' and the 'Vision of the Alps' are conspicuous. We select the following for its poetic beauty.

WHY, when the sun withdraws his light,
And sinks in some far western wave,
Leaving the vale, lawn, landscape, height,
Mantled in evening's shadows grave,
Why is no sadness at the heart

To see that warm, fond friend depart?
'T is that he comes again tomorrow,
To light the eye, and laugh at sorrow.
Why do we part with spring-its flowers,
Its bloom, its sunshine, and its showers,
And see its verdant honors die,
With scarce one tribute, tear or sigh?
"T is that another year will bring,
These beauties back with speedy wing.
Why do we see the forest shed
Its willing leaves, now dim and dead,
And sigh not? 't is that vernal rain
Will bid the forest bloom again.
But oh! 't were hard to look our last
On fading spring, or setting sun;
To see the forest foliage cast,
And know these scenes, for us, are done.
But more than sun, or spring, or bloom
Of forest, there is one to me:
Yet from her lips I take my doom-
And say, a last farewell to thee!

Tremont Theatre.-The attraction at this Theatre during the past week has (according to the taste of the times,) been of the most powerful kind, the grand melo drama, the Cataract of the

on Monday evening to an overflowing house, which it still continues to draw. This superb equestrian spectacle is brought out with great expense to the manager, and with all the splendor of Oriental magnificence. They have spared no pains to produce that scenic effect, which their ample stage is constructed to display in the most imposing manner.

This play,notwithstanding its unnatural plot, and improbable incidents, has many scenes calculated to elicit the powers of the actor. The cast of characters however, was not perhaps altogether judicious; we wished to see Mr. Blake in the 'young Hindoo warrior,' Mr. Hyatt in 'Jack Robinson,' and the pretty little Miss Riddle in Ubra. Mr. Webb was dignified in the Rajah of Guzerat, and Mr. Brown enacted the imperious Bramin with great effect. Mrs. Blake is always interesting and elegant as a woman, but she has never yet assumed a masculine costume without suffering in her professional character. The harmony of her voice, and the feminine graces of her person can not be disguised by male attire. Mr. Isherwood never appeared so well as in the character of the English officer; he evinced much grace and spirit in his defence of the princess. As a whole, this is the most splendid spectacle we have ever beheld. The perfect submission of those beautiful horses to the will of their masters, was admirable! but during the evolutions of the triumphal car, we trembled for the sons of Apollo below, fearing they might have unwelcome visitors. The substitution of real water for paint is certainly a very great improvement to the scene. On the first evening of representation, the noble animal seemed most unwilling to wet his coat, but on the second he ascended the cataract to the admiration of the spectators, and amid the most deafening thunder of applause.

The love of fame is inherent in our nature, it developes itself in every walk of life, it is obvious in all our pursuits, whether public or private: and is laudable, when not indulged beyond the bounds of reason, as it imparts that elasticity to the mind, and energy to the character, that can be produced only by mental excitement.

But the love of fame, is not always the desire of obtaining a high literary reputation, of securing an eminent station in society, of gaining the plaudits of the world, by a display of real, or imaginary talents; the hero, the statesman, and the poet, are not alone ambitious of praise. The honest farmer looks forth upon his highly cultivated fields and exulting in the success of his own labor, and that of his household, presents with triumph his annual offerings of agricultural and domestic industry. This is a laudable pride, for it furnishes examples of usefulness worthy of imitation. The spirit of emulation is the secret spring that actuates us in all our pursuits, manual and intellectual. We have generally some object in view, worthy of exciting our ambition. This is the magnet towards which all our powers and energies tend; whatever then may induce the cultivation of talent, or make us wiser, and better than we were before, must be equally beneficial to ourselves, and society.

However this may be, a change was im-
mediately perceptible. The lower row
of boxes at the Opera, soon exhibited all
the elegance and fashion of the city, in a
style of costume appropriate to the taste-
ful character of the entertainment. Man-
tles and shawls were adopted instead of
the clumsy 'manderins,' or snug habit;
and the graceful cap, turban, or wreath,
took place of the overshadowing hat with
its towering plumage. This is certainly
a much more becoming, as well as com-
fortable dress, in a crowded house. Too
much cannot be said against the custom
(which a few still retain,) of wearing hats
and bonnets at the Theatre. To those
who are so unfortunate as to be placed
in their rear, they operate as a 'total
eclipse' to the stage.

We are sorry to learn that several of our patrons have not received their numbers in due order, and have suggested to our Publishers to procure other or more carriers. Should there be any omissions this week, they will please to send their names and places of residence to the office and the work shall be sent to their address.

MARRIAGES.

In this city, Mr Stephen Clark to Miss Harriet H. Newmarch; Mr Hubbard C. Currier, of this city, to Miss Joanna Keyes, daughter of Deacon Silas Keyes, of Temple, N. H. Mr James Leman to Miss Marcy Hunting; Mr David Leahay to Miss Betsey Thompson.

In Salem, Mr Joshua T. Frost to Miss Rachael Burke; Mr Thos. Murphy to Miss Abigail Blood; Mr Wm. Churchill to Miss Sarah L. Curtis.

The introduction of the Italian troupe at the Park Theatre in New York, has certainly effected many important improvements in the style of dress usually worn at theatrical exhibitions. We believe it was publicly suggested by the managers, that it was the wish of those accomplished foreigners, that no gentle-ham Bazin, Esq. aged 68; Mrs Caroline

man should appear in the dress circle, with those huge plaid cloaks and wide caped garments, called 'box coats;' and that the ladies would discard their flats, and dismiss those head-castles of ribbons, and feathers that were formerly worn.

DEATHS.

In this city, widow Anna Jones, aged 40; Mrs Lucy Tobie, aged 33; Abra

Augusta Andrews, aged 28; Lucinda Wise, aged 10; Mrs Catharine Larthy, aged 34; Maria Buckman Gabriel, aged 7; Mrs Betsey Pepper, aged 30; Mr Joseph C. Metcalfe, aged 22, formerly of Orange, Mass-death occasioned by the bite of a centipede, while at work in removing hides.

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I saw him once in the bloom of youth,
When his brow was as fair as the page of truth,
And o'er it was curling his light brown hair-
No passion had mark'd its progress there.
When the spirit that burned in his deep blue eye,
Gave to his cheek that glowing dye

Which comes amid spring's ethereal showers,
To brighten a world of shade and flowers!
The line of his features was free and bold-
'T was a face that memory long might hold.

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I saw him again-his brow was fair-
But it was mark'd with deep despair!
His smile was fled-yet the spirit was high,
That flash'd from his darkly rolling eye!
His cheek was pale-but his lip was curl'd
With a proud contempt for that heartless world-
Where, with the hopes of sanguine youth,
His heart all confidence and truth,
With bosom alive to pleasure's glow,
Yet heaving with sorrow for human wo-
He came-he trusted-and he believed-
He loved and in all, he was deceived!

The friends who knew him in joy and health,
Who drank of his cup, and shared his wealth-
All these, with fortune's smile have flown-
And left him wretched and alone!

Now, with feelings wreck'd and bosom torn,
On life's rough sea he is rudely borne,
To stem the blast, or buffet the wave-

Till he sinks unwept to his peaceful grave!

SONNET....TO AUGUSTA.
"HERE'S A BOWER.'

'There's a Bower' where myrtle and ivy entwined
With perfume of sweets fill the air;

Where the wild-rose, and wall-flow'r luxuriant wind
O'er the soft, verdant lawn within it enshrined,
And mirth and contentment are there.

AUGUST

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