ANECDOTE OF DWIGHT AND DENNIE. SOME few years since, as Dr Dwight was travelling through New Jersey, he chanced to stop at the stage hotel, in one of its populous towns, for the night. At a late hour of the same, arrived also at the inn, Mr Dennie, who had the misfortune to learn from the landlord that his beds were all paired with lodgers, except one occupied by the celebrated Dr Dwight. Show me to his apartment, exclaimed Dennie; although I am a stranger to the Rev. Doctor, perhaps I may bargain with him for my lodgings. The landlord accordingly waited on Mr Dennie to the Doctor's room, and there left him to introduce himself. The Doctor, although in his night gown, cap, and slippers, and just ready to resign himself to the refreshing arms of Somnus, politely requested the strange intruder to be seated. Struck with the physiognomy of his companion, he then unbent his austere brow, and commenced a literary conversation. The names of Washington, Franklin, Rittenhouse, and a host of distinguished and literary characters, for some time gave a zest and interest to their conversation, until Dr Dwight chanced to mention Dennie. "Dennie, the editor of the Port Folio," says the Doctor in a rhapsody, "is the Addison of the United States- the father of American belles lettres. But, sir," continued he, " is it not astonishing that a man of such genius, fancy, and feeling, should abandon himself to the inebriating bowl?" 66 Sir," said Dennie, you are mistaken. I have been intimately acquainted with Dennie for several years; and I never knew, or saw him intoxicated." "Sir," says the Doctor," you err. I have my information from a particular friend; I am confident that I am right, and you are wrong." Dennie now ingeniously changed the conversation to the clergy, remarking that Abercrombie and Mason were among the most distinguished divines: "nevertheless, he considered Dr Dwight, president of Yale College, the most learned theologian, the first logician, and the greatest poet that America has produced. But, sir," continued Dennie, “there are traits in his character, undeserving so wise and great a man, of the most detestable description: he is the greatest bigot and dogmatist of the age!” "Sir," says the Doctor," you are grossly mistaken; I am intimately acquainted with Dr Dwight, and I know to the contrary." "Sir," says Dennie, "you are mistaken; I have it from an intimate acquaintance of his, whom I am confident would not tell me an untruth." "No more slander!" says the Doctor, "I am Dr Dwight, of whom you speak!” “And I, too,” exclaimed Dennie, “am Mr Dennie, of whom you spoke!” The astonishment of Dr Dwight may be better conceived than told. Suffice it to say, they mutually shook hands, and were extremely happy in each other's acquaintance. . PATRICK HENRY. WHEN Patrick Henry, who gave the first impulse to the ball of the American Revolution, introduced his celebrated resolution on the stamp act into the House of Burgesses, of Virginia, in May, 1765, he exclaimed, when descanting on the tyranny of the obnoxious act, "Cæsar had his Brutus ; Charles the first his Cromwell; and George the Third " "Treason!" cried the speaker; echoed from every part of the house. ور treason treason! It was one of those trying moments which are decisive of character. Henry faltered not for an instant; but rising to a loftier attitude, and fixing on the speaker an eye of flashing fire, continued, " may profit by their example. this be treason, make the most of it." If PROVERBS. A STITCH in time saves nine. Good words cost nothing, but are worth much. If you wish a thing done, go; if not, send. If counsel be good, no matter who gives it. Men apt to promise, are apt to forget. Speak well of your friend; of your enemy, say nothing. Too much familiarity breeds contempt. SUNSET AND SUNSHINE. LAST HOURS OF WASHINGTON. So TWENTYEIGHT years have passed away, since an interesting group were assembled in the death-room, and witnessed the last hours of WASHINGTON. keen and unsparing has been the scythe of time, that of all those who watched over the patriarch's couch, on the 13th and 14th of December, 1779, but a single personage survives. On the morning of the 13th, the General was making some improvements in front of Mount Vernon. As was usual with him, he carried his own compass, noted his observations, and marked out the ground. — The day became rainy, with sleet, and the General remained so long exposed to the inclemency of the weather as to be considerably wet before his return to the house. About one o'clock, he was seized with chillness and nausea, but having changed his clothes, he sat down to his in-door work there being no moment of his time for which he had not provided an appropriate employment. At night, on joining his family circle, the General complained of slight indisposition, and, after a single cup of tea, repaired to his library, where he remained writing until between eleven and twelve o'clock. Mrs Washington retired about the usual family bour, but becoming alarmed at not hearing the accustomed sound of the library door, as it closed for the night, and gave signal for rest in the well regulated mansion, she rose again, and continued sitting up in much anxiety and suspense. At length the well known step was heard upon the stair, and upon the General's entering his chamber, the lady kindly chided him for remaining up so late, knowing himself to be unwell; to which Washington made this memorable reply: "I came as soon as my business was accomplished. You know well, that through a long life, it has been my unvaried rule, never to put off till the morrow, the duties which should be performed today." Having first covered up the fire with care, the mighty man of labors at last sought repose: but it came not as it had long been wont to do, to comfort and restore, after the many and earnest occupations of the well spent day. The night was passed in feverish restlessness and pain. Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, was destined no more to visit his couch; yet the manly sufferer uttered no complaint, would permit no one to be disturbed in their rest on his account, and it was only at day break that he would consent that the overseer might be called in, and bleeding resorted to. A vein was opened, but without affording relief. Couriers were despatched to summon Dr Craik, the family physician, and Doctors Dick and Brown, as consulting physicians, all of whom came with speed. The proper remedies were administered, but without producing their healing effects; while the patient, yielding to the anxious looks of all around him, waived his usual objection to medicines, and took those which were |