About the commencement of the revolutionary war, his fat her, having abandoned commercial pursuits in the city of New York, retired with his family to the old countryseat at West Point. In that place of retirement from the dangers and excitements incident to a state of war, the subject of our memoir passed about a year and a half of his boyish days in the happy society of his brothers and sisters, often engaged in those rural occupations and sports so grateful to the taste of childhood and youth, and surrounded by the most sublime and lovely scenery which our country contains. The following letters to two of his children will show the vivid impression of by-gone joys upon his mind on visiting this sequestered spot after the lapse of more than half a century.

LETTERS DESCRIBING A VISIT TO WEST POINT.

New York, August 10th, 1833.

My Dear Crissy;-Although but a few days have elapsed since I last wrote, still as I have since that period made an excursion to the Highlands, and have visited the site of my grandfather's country seat at West Point, at which I passed eighteen months of my boyhood, I hasten to communicate the circumstance to you; at the same time to inform you of a continuance of my health.

Last Thursday I embarked in the steamboat, with Fanny and Mary Ann, in company with my nephew Thomas Moore, and reached West Point before 1 o'clock; but being fatigued, I postponed my visit to the retreat of my father in 1775, until yesterday morning: when, attended by my daughters, Dr. Lyell and wife, Thomas Moore and several strangers, I walked to Moore's folly, as it was once called, and found the house totally gone; but perfectly re

collected the spot on which it once stood, and to my pleas ing surprise, found one old English cherry tree remaining, the relic of former times. One of the gentlemen ascended the tree and took from it part of an old branch, which I have in my pocket, and to which I intend to affix a label and hang it up in my study. It was surprising to perceive the pleasure discoverable in the countenances of several gentlemen, who went with me; and who had been informed, that I had resided on that spot fifty-seven years gone by; among whom was Professor Rodgers of William and Mary College.

The walk was fatiguing, but I went and found the same road, over which I had trodden many and many a time, with a heart as gay as a lark, and a step as brisk as a deer. The associations of early life burst upon me, with great force, but when I recollected that my beloved parents, and every soul but one of all the family, beside myself, were in eternity, the pleasure I should otherwise have enjoyed was sensibly checked. Betsey Livingston was born there-and she and your father are the only remaining relics of that day either in kitchen or parlour. The inclination I had to tread on that ground, consecrated by filial recollections, the seat of so much juvenile happiness, and in which 1 partook so largely of a mother's care and love, forced me to inspect its retired walks: and having complied with the pleadings of my heart, I have bidden it adieu; and shall soon unite in a better retreat, with those, who once oocupied that family ground; and whose spirits I trust are now reposing in perfect quiet in the bosom of the God they loved.

Perhaps, my child, you may not be able to enter fully into your father's feelings on such a subject: unless you recur in recollection to that spot, in which you first drew the breath

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of life; and on which your dear departed mother bade an adieu to you, to me, and to the world, and ascended on angels' wings, to the arms of her divine Redeemer. May God, who is rich in mercy, prepare us all to meet our relatives in peace, beyond this vale of tears.

When at West Point, I was visited by young Harvie J. Ellis and James Carter; the latter of whom I saw on guard in the encampment, with a musket on his shoulder. They were all well and in good spirits and delighted to see me. Should you see their friends, they no doubt will be gratified to hear of them.

Remember me in much love to all who inquire after me, and when you write, let me know how matters stand in Church and at home. With love to Sally, Eliza and household,

Believe me your affectionate father,

RICHARD CHANNING MOORE.

P. S. David has been with me two hours, and has returned home this moment. Mr. and Mrs. Pendleton visited me this morning-they are well, I have promised to visit them at the Fort. Let Mr. Nelson know I have seen them. All here send their love.

New York, August 21st, 1833. My Dear Daughter,-My former letters have been directed to your sister Crissy, under the impression, that you as well as she, would peruse them, and with the confidence that it was a matter of no particular importance to whom addressed; but lest you should indulge the least suspicion that you were overlooked, I now direct this to you; and must request my dear Crissy to consider it a piece of joint property. My last letter embraced the history of my visit to West Point, and involved in it an account of the tender

recollections to which that visit gave rise. I there passed, I think, eighteen months, at a period of life when no heavy cares press on the mind, and we feel as cheerful as the face of nature appears, and as happy as the feathered songsters of the woods. Since that era I have experienced much trouble and anxiety: my parents have passed into eternity, and other severe trials have befallen me: comparing the ease I then enjoyed, and of which every object informed me, with the checkered scenes of subsequent life, it raised emotions in my bosom which I want language to express ; and in the edition I gave Crissy of the adventure, and in the perusal of which I shed many tears, my feelings were such as I cannot well describe. Should you live to be as old as your father, who this day commences his seventysecond year, you will be better qualified to judge of such things, than you can now possibly be; and you will then recollect that what you then feel, has been experienced by those who lived before you. To-day I dine with Dr. Milnor, to-morrow with Mr. Ridgway, our former Consul in the Island of St. Croix, and on Friday with Dr. Lyell. I expect to preach on Sunday morning at St. Stephen's; and on Monday to lay the corner-stone of a new church in the city, and to deliver an address on the occasion. Your brothers David and Channing, the latter of whom has gone to visit his friend Hallam at New-London, are to be with me; and we expect to go to Staten Island on Tuesday. On Friday it is my present purpose to start for Philadelphia, where I shall remain a few days with my dear Gertrude, and then bend my course to Richmond. Should anything occur to arrest me in my progress to the South, I shall apprize you of it; so that you may not be disappointed on the subject of my return. Mr. Cook has requested me to sit for my portrait: which I have done three

times; and expect to give him another sitting to-morrow, when I presume he will finish his work. It is thought a likeness, but I shall be better qualified to decide on the subject myself after to-morrow. I sincerely sympathize with my dear friend Martha Chamberlayne; but, as I am sensible her little girl is much better provided for, than she could have been in this world, I hope she will bend with resignation to the dispensation of Providence, and remember that she will again see her, with her harp tuned to praise, and with the ability to join in anthems of joy with the triumphant host of heaven. I intend to address her on the subject, if not prevented by company, as soon as I finish this letter. Last Sunday I passed in Amboy, where I preached twice, and in the evening went to the Miss Parkers, where, with all the members of that family, at least twenty in number, I spent a devotional evening, and closed with a prayer for the blessing of heaven upon them all. It was a devotional, melting evening. I sincerely hope that you are both in good health, and with my prayers for your health and happiness, and for the happiness of all my friends, especially my child Betsey Heath and husband and family,

Believe me, my dear daughter, your friend and father, RICHARD CHANNING MOORE.

In contrast with the peaceful and joyous recollections recorded in the foregoing letters, we will here relate an incident previously adverted to, well adapted to illustrate the barbarities inseparable from war even when under the conduct of civilized and Christian nations.

The father of the peaceful family at West Point had left home to visit a friend at a distance; and during his absence, a British frigate ascended the Hudson river with a