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This beautiful and characteristic specimen of the scenery of the cocoanut tree, and interspersed with a few dwellings erected by foreign
distinguished by a steeple. The noble mountain which rises in the
admiration, especially when they have pro
ceeded along the road which leads them by sa gradual ascent, for some distance up its
side, overshadowed by the trees and flow. ering shrubs, which overhang it, from the little gardens that present themselves in great numbers, and the natural groves which elsewhere abound.
Our print may aid the reader in forming some adequate idea of the beauties of those charming islands, where nature as well as the history of a few past years, offers many subjects of peculiar interest, if recurrence
be had to the first visits paid by the great navigator Cook, the reports of American Missionary Societies, and the volumes of travels by Stewart and others, but especially Ellis's Polynesian Researches. No contrast could easily have been found on earth more striking, than the original de. gradation and barbarity of the inhabitants compared with the bounties which nature has furnished them; and no part of history records more surprising changes, than those which occurred here in their conver. sion to Christianity.
THE AVALANCHES IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS. This print presents us with a scene of de- } deluged the principal peaks of the mountains, vastation, in the heart of the White Moun.
and poured such an inundation upon the valtains of New Hampshire, as it appeared in
leys and plains below, that it is commonly at1
tributed to the bursting of a cloud ;' although the summer succeeding the awful avalanches
that expression is a very ill-defined one. The which fell there a few years ago. This moun. effects produced by the flood will remain for tain, before the avalanches, when seen by the
centuries; and, as many of these lie exposed editor, was covered with an aged forest from
to the eye, the route will offer many new ob
jects interesting to an intelligent traveller. base to summit. The drawing was made by
“The inundation was so great and so sudDaniel Wadsworth, Esq. of Hartford, Conn. den, that the channels of the streams were toHaving attained a commanding position on
tally insufficient to admit of the passage of the top of one of the immense heaps of rocks,
the water, which consequently overflowed the
little level valleys at the feet of the moun3 trees, earth, and stones, he sketched the op.
tains. Innumerable torrents immediately posite mountain, with an outline of the late formed on all sides ; and such deep trenches green and fertile meadow at its foot, the Saco
were cut by the rushing water, that vast Brook, and the Notch House, (or Willey
bodies of earth and stones fell from the moun
tains, bearing with them the forests that House as it has since been called,) which ap
had covered them for ages. Some of these pears so small here as to be hardly distin. "slides," as they are here popularly denomiguishable.
nated, (known among the Alps as ' avalanches The following paragraphs the editor bor
de terre,') are supposed to have been half a
mile in breadth, and from one to five miles in rows from the sixth edition of one of his own
length. Scarcely any natural occurrence can works—"The Northern Traveller.”
be imagined more sublime; and among the "A tremendous catastrophe occurred among devastation which it has left to testify the the White Mountains on the night of August power of the elements, the traveller will be 28th, 1826. A storm of rain, unprecedented filled with awe at the ihought of that Being within the memory of the oldest inhabitants, by whom they are controlled and directed.
by other satisfactory testimony. It has al. ways remained in possession of the lineal descendants of the Elder. It passed from him into the hands of his son William Brewster, thence into the possession of his grandson Joseph Brewster, and afterwards into the possession of his great grand-daughter, Ruth Brewster, who married Mr. Wiliam Sampson, and removed to West Springfield in Massachusetts, where she died, a few years since, at a great age, in the family of Henry Day, from whom Dr. Robinson procured it. It is made of Norway pine, and was probably procured in Holland.-Connecticut paper.
“The streams brought away with them immense quantities of earth and sand, which the turbid water deposited, when any obstacle threw it back, in temporary ponds and lakes. The forest trees were also floated down, frequently several miles from the places where they were rooted up. The timber was often marked with deep grooves and trenches made by the rocks which passed over them during their descent from the mountains; and great heaps of trees were deposited in some places, while in others the soil of the little meadows was buried with earth, sand, or rocks, to the depth of several feet.
“ The turnpike road leading through this romantic country was twenty miles in length, but was almost entirely destroyed. Twentyone of the twenty-three bridges upon it were demolished; one of them, built with stone, cost one thousand dollars. In some places, the Saco river ran along the road, and cut down deep channels.
"The Notch House (which is represented in the print) was the scene of a most melancholy tragedy on the night above mentioned, when this inundation occurred. Several days previously a large slide' came down from the mountain behind it, and passed so near as to cause great alarm, without any injury to the inmates. The house was occupied by Mr. Calvin Willey, whose wife was a young woman of a very interesting character, and of an education not to be looked for in so wild a region. They had a number of young children, and their family at the time included several other persons, amounting in all to eleven. They were waked in the night by the noise of the storm, or more probably by the second descent of avalanches from the neighboring mountains; and fied in their night clothes from the house to seek their safety, but thus threw themselves in the way of destruction. One of the slides, 100 feet high, stopped within three feet of the house. Another took away the barn, and overwhelmed the family. Nothing was found of them for some time; their clothes were lying at their bed sides, the house had been started on its foundation, by an immense heap of earth and timber, which had slid down and stopped as soon as it touched it; and they had all been crushed on leaving the door, or borne away with the water that overllowed the meadow. The bodies of several of them were never found. A catastrophe so melan. choly, and at the same time so singular in its circumstances, has hardly ever occurred. It will always furnish the traveller with a mel. ancholy subject of reflection.”
STOP THAT THOUGHT. A wicked thought! Call it a drop, if you please, so minute a portion is it of man's history. But it has the fearful pow. er of attracting to itself other drops, till all admonitions, human and divine, are swept away by the food.
Call it a particle as of the small dust of the balance, yet it can attract other parti. cles, till an overwhelming mass shall bury the soul in perdition.
An indulged wicked thought; how long before it excites other wicked thoughts, and they set on fire the hateful passions of the soul. Each one of these thoughts is fuel to the flame.
We would stop the thief in his assault on the happiness of the community. We would stay disease, as we saw widening the sphere of its ravages. We would stop the flames we saw kindling upon a neighbor's roof. But how many elements of evil are wrapped up in a wicked thought! What havoc, unrestrained, it will make among all the forms of human happiness! It is among its minor evils that it can waste property, and generate vices that will fiercely torment the human body. It looks for noble game, and never fails to find it. It strikes at the most magnificent of Jehovah's works, the immortal soul. It aims at laying it in utter and everlasting ruin. Therefore,
1. It is wisdom to stop that wicked thought. All true philosophy directs to the fountain for the power we would have over the stream. Take care of the spark if you would not have the flame and the conflagration. When we stop the wicked thought we lay our hand on the starting. point of action. We stand by the fountain, and the polluted stream shall not issue from it. Human wisdom lops off the branches when it assaults only outward evil habit. But divine wisdom lays the axe to the root
of the tree when it bids us stop the wicked 3 fetters it will bind the soul, and what stripes thought.
it will lay upon it. 2. And is there less of kindness than of 3 That thought, that wicked thought, say wisdom, when we cry to the sinning, “ Stop not, think not it is a trifle. No being in the that wicked thought!” Do we not kill in universe can think so but a sinner in his in the bud the most terrible agent of men. dreadful blindness. What relations are tal suffering? Does not a spark die, when S borne by that wicked thought to the divine that wicked thought dies, that might have law and to the moral government of God, kindled the flames of everlasting remorse to temporal welfare, to eternal destiny ! in that bosom?
With all solemnity and earnestness is the Suppose that, with effectual power, the s admonition now given, STOP THAT THOUGHT. S rebuke, “ stop that thought,” had fallen on
N. Y. Observer. David's ear, when the first impulse was given to that career of guilt that made him }
LOST BOY FOUND, an adulterer and murderer, what shame and In 1840, Mr. Ammi Filley, of Windsor, Ct., remorse, how many tears and agonies removed with his family to the town of Jackwould have been prevented!
son, in the state of Michigan. In this town, Had Judas stopped that thought which
then a wilderness, he located himself, and by fired the train of covetous emotion in his s
his industry and economy he soon found himheart, and which ended in the betrayal of 3
self in possession of a productive and profita
ble farm; and by the accession of settlers, the his Lord, what a mercy he had done his
town became populous and flourishing. Alsoul!
though in the vicinity of numerous tribes of Had the timid Peter repelled that unbe. savages, and often visited by wandering famlieving thought which laid open his heart to ilies of the natives, all was peace and quiet. the tempter and caused the countless tears
Dess, and every thing conspired to render their of remorse, what suffering he had saved
abode pleasant and happy. his soul!
On the 3d of August, 1837, his little son,
then a child of four years old, went out to a Christian kindness never does a nobler
swamp in the vicinity of their dwelling, with office than when it seeks to wither in its bud
a hired girl, to gather whortleberries. The an unholy thought. It gives a death-blow swamp was in the direction from Mr. Filley's to the most terrific agent of evil.
to the dwelling of Mr. Mount, the father of That thought of malice-stop it. Else it
the girl, whither they expected to go to spend will gather other elements of flame, and >
the night-and the scene of their toil was burning more and more fiercely as kindred
about a mile from the house of the former, and
some twenty or thirty rods from the dwelling thoughts and emotions contribute to its
of the latter. Having satisfied himself with power, and some dreadful deed of blood
picking berries, the child discovered a wish proclaims how great a matter a little fire to return, whereupon the girl conducted him kindleth.
to the road, and placed him in the direction That thought of lust let it die as soon ?
to the house of Mr. Mount-not doubting, as as born. It can live only to pollute. Its
the house was in plain sight and only a few can live only to gather other vile thoughts
rods distant, but the little fellow would reach
it in perfect safety. into its company, and to kindle, by accumu. s
The girl returned to the swamp, and after lation, such a passion as shall clothe you
completing her supply of berries, went home with shame as with a mantle, and set the s to the house of her father, and found, to her undying worm to work in your bosom.
astonishment, as well as that of the family, That thought of pride-stop it. It has that William had not arrived. Notice was fired a train that has sent millions to per
immediately communicated to the parents, dition: Stop it now. To-morrow it may
an alarm given through the settlement, and
the whole population rushed at once to the as. escape your grasp. To-day it is perishable.
sistance and relief of the almost distracted To-morrow it will defy you. Now it is
parents. Day and night for more than a weak, and a little strength will suffice for a week the whole country, in every direction, death-blow. Soon all your power will not to an extent of more than twenty miles, was master it.
searched with untiring vigilance. Every pond That covetous thought, had Ahab stop
and stream of water was examined and drag, ped it, or Gehazi, or Judas, what a change
ged--and every rod of ground scrutinized, for might have been wrought in charac
many successive days, but no trace could be
discovered of the absent child. ler and destiny. In your bosom it aims
As suspicions were entertained that foul at power. It will have it. Nothing can play had been practiced by the Indians, inquiprevent it but its expulsion. And the power ries were made of the different tribes and famwhich, indulged, it cannot but gain, in what ilies in the vicinity, and pecuniary offers ten
dered to their chiefs and influential men, and Mr. Filley himself traversed for months the wilds of Michigan, Wisconsin and Iowa, but his efforts proved vain. No discovery could be made, and no tidings had, and he returned to his broken hearted family, with the sad reflection that his little William was lost!
For seven long years this stricken family endured the agony ot an affliction which seldom falls to the lot of human nature to submit to "months of vanity and wearisome nights were appointed to them."
Since the decease of his wife Mr. Filley has visited Connecticut, the place of his nativity, and while here, by a mysterious course of events beyond the comprehension of human wisdom to fathom, his long lost child has appeared and been restored to his embraces.
It seems that the lad, before reaching the house of Mr. Mount, was overtaken and kid. napped by a band of Indians, who in their wanderings happened to pass that way. In this family he lived, and traveled with them in all their movements, from the time he was captured until the autumn of 1843.
About this time this family visited Albany, N. Y., and while there this white child was discovered among them. The municipal au. thorities of the city becoming acquainted with the circumstance, at once caused their arrest, and took measures to compel them to disclose the means by which they became possessed of the child. They were alternately flattered and threatened, but no disclosure could be obtained, as they seemed resolved to submit to any punishment rather than make any communication by which the paternity of the child could be ascertained. They were therefore discharged, and the child very humanely placed in the Orphan Asylum.
Subsequently, in the spring of 1844, M. L. Cowles, of Tolland, Mass., being in want of a boy in his family, was recommended to this place and furnished with this lad, whom he brought home with him to his residence in Tolland.
In the month of December last, a most mar. velous concurrence of circumstances, the facts in relation to this boy, so far as it concerned the transaction at Albany, came to the knowl. edge of the Rev. Dr. Cooley, of Granville. The doctor, having frequently heard the circumstances under which the child was lost, immediately communicated the intelligence he had obtained to Mr. Marvin, the grandfather of the child, and he, without loss of time, made known the tidings to Mr. Pilley, who was then with his friends in Connecti. cut. From the knowledge thus obtained, Mr. Filley visited Mr. Cowles, in Tolland, with whom the lad then resided.
Although time and exposure had somewhat obliterated the fair features of this youth, his personal appearance was the counterpart of the other members of his family. His size, his age, the complexion of his eyes and hair, and all his prominent characteristics indicated those of his child; and upon appealing to a
S known scar upon his hand, and examining an
indubitable mark in the hair of his head, his identity was fully recognized, and in the joy of his heart he pressed to his bosom his long lost son.
From the story of the boy it appears that he has constantly resided in the same family, which consisted of four Indians-Paul Pye and Phebe Anne Pye his wife, Martha Ann Pye, their daughter, and Thomas Williams, an inmate of the family. They adopted him as their son, and he was taught and believed that Paul and Phebe Anne were his parents and Martha his sister. He supposed himself an Indian boy, and was not aware of any difference of complexion or distinction of nature until bis deliverance at Albany. He has an indistinct recollection of attending school, but when or where he knows not.
This seems to be the only remaining fact in bis memory that he can recognize as having transpired prior to his capture, and he does not seem to associate this with any other fact indicative of his home, except that he did not go to school with Indians.
He recollects living near Detroit, Utica, Brothertown, Catskill and Hudson, and several months at Hillsdale, N. Y. In all their wanderings in summer and winter he travel. ed barefoot, suffering in winter from cold, and at all times from hunger and fatigue; but his Indian sister, like a second Pocahontas, took unwearied pains to mitigate his sufferings and make his captivity endurable.
Although he cannot recognize his new friends, yet he rejoices that he has found a permanent home in a land of civilization, and all parties feel to render their grateful thanks to the Author of all good for this marvelous dispensation of his Providence. — Hartford Times.
Do you honor your parents ?-I knew a little boy at school, whose father was dead. He was one day writing a copy in his book : “ Honor thy father and thy mother." He wrote a few lines, and then laid down his pen and began to weep. He began again, and wrote a few lines more ; but his memo. ry was at work, recalling to his mind the happy days he had passed with his dear deceased father, and he wept anew. He could not go on, but sobbed aloud, “ What is the matter, my boy?” said his teacher. " Oh, Mr. Blake, I cannot write this copy; for father is dead. Please give me another page, and cut this leaf out-I cannot write