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May apple, and present a most striking landscape to | boatable branches. By those large marshy ponds, the traveller, as he skirts them in a steamboat. Such which at once discharge into Lakes Michigan and Erie, is the south front. on the one hand, and the Gulf of Mexico on the With few exceptions the interior is one vast level. other, with a small expense of money and labor, the The prairies which distinguish some of the western lakes will be united by canals with the Ohio and Illistates, are here very prominent features of the coun-nois. The state is alive to the importance of internal try, having the usual distinction of high and low, improvement, and a navigable canal already connects swampy and alluvial. For a wide extent on the north the White Water, by the Big Miami, with the Ohio at front of the state, between the Wabash and Lake Cincinnati. This state, so rapidly becoming populous, Michigan, the country is generally an extended plain, will soon dispute the points of population and imporalternately prairie and timbered land, with considerable tance with Ohio, and will no doubt, ere long emulate swamps and small lakes, and ponds. Every traveller the enterprises, the canals, and public works of its mohas spoken with admiration of the beauty and fertility del. By the lakes, its northern frontier is already of the prairies along the course of the Wabash, par-connected with Canada and New York. The whole ticularly near Fort Harrison. It is said no part of the extent of inland navigation now exceeds 5,000 miles. western world can probably show greater extents of It would not comport with our limits so well as with rich land in one body, than that portion of the White our inclination, to give the statistics of the principal River country, of which Indianapolis is the centre. towns. We are compelled to mention only a few.Now that Indiana is all surveyed, it is found that it Lawrenceburg, the seat of justice for the county of possesses as large a proportion of first rate lands as Dearborn, stands on the bank of the Ohio, 23 miles any in the west. With a few exceptions of wide below Cincinnati. The ancient village was situated prairies, the divisions of timbered and prairie lands are too low, so that it was not uncommon for the water more happily balanced than elsewhere. Many rich to rise four or five feet above the foundations of the prairies are long and narrow, so that the whole can be houses, in which case the inhabitants retreated to the taken up, and timber be accessible by all the settlers. upper story, and drove their domestic animals to the There are hundreds of prairies only large enough for hills. Visits and tea parties were projected in the ina few farms, and even in the large ones, occur those undated town, and the vehicles of transport were skiffs beautiful islands of timbered land, which form such a and periogues. The period of flood became a time of distinguishing feature of the prospect. The great ex- carnival, and the running water was supposed to contents of fertile land, and the happy distribution of duce to health, carrying off the vegetable and animal springs and rivers, may be one cause of the unexam- matter. New Lawrenceburg has been built on the pled rapidity with which this state has peopled, and second bank, and few places have made more rapid another reason may be, that being a non-slaveholding progress. Many of the new houses are handsome, state, and next in position beyond Ohio, it was happily and make a fine show from the river. It has several situated to arrest the tide of emigration, that set be- manufactories, and a population exceeding 1,000. Auyond Ohio, after that state was nearly filled. rora is 13 miles below, and has 70 or 80 houses. Vevay is 45 miles below Cincinnati. It contains between 2 and 300 houses, a court house, jail, academy, printing office, issuing a weekly paper, a branch of the Bank of Indiana, and other public buildings. Mr. J. J. Dufour was the patriarch of the place, and the Swiss emigrants under his direction, commenced here the successful cultivation of the vine-Vevay presenting at this time the largest vineyard in the Union. The industrious Swiss make large quantities of straw bonnets. Madison is the most populous and one of the pleasantest towns, and is the landing place for the imports of the Ohio. It has 25 drygoods stores, doing a large business. A line of stages passes through it-it has two printing offices, and issues a respectable weekly gazette. It has an Insurance company, and application has been made for a branch of the United States Bank, which will no doubt be granted, if that institution is rechartered; whether it will be located at Madison, Lawrenceburg, or Indianapolis, remains to be determined. Madison is particularly noted for the quantity of pork barrelled there, and contains from 2,000 to 3,000 inhabitants. New London and Charlestown are smaller villages. Jeffersonville is opposite Louisville, on a high bank, and has many handsome houses. The broad rapid river, forming whitening sheets and cascades at the falls, the display of steamboats, and the whole noble prospect, combine to render the scenery of this village uncommonly rich and diversified. It has a land office, post office, printing office, and some other public buildings. In 1819 a canal was commenced to go round the falls of Ohio, on the Indiana side at Jeffersonville, which, if it had been completed, would have been of great importance to the place, but the one now completed at Louisville, has done away with the necessity of a second. Clarkssille is a small place, just below where there is, or was a good ferry. New Albany is four miles below Jeffer. sonville, where many steamboats that cannot pass the falls, are laid up for repair. It has a convenient ship

Indiana is fertile in corn, rye, oats, barley, wheat, and the usual farm products of the eastern states, though some of the vast prairies and rich bottoms are too rich for wheat, until the natural wild luxuriance of the soil has been reduced by cropping. Upland rice has been attempted with success, while some of the warm and sheltered vallies have yielded in favorable years, considerable crops of cotton. No country can exceed this in its adaptedness for rearing the finest fruits and fruit bearing shrubs. Wild berries are abun. dant, and in some of the prairies strawberries are large and fine. For all the objects of farming, and raising grain, flour, hemp, tobacco, cattle, sheep, swine, horses, &c., the emigrant could not desire a better country than may be found in Indiana. In the rich bottoms of the southern parts, the reed cane and the large ginseng are abundant.

The high and rolling regions of this state are as healthy as the same kinds of land in other parts of the United States. The wet prairies and swampy lands, are however subject to fever and ague, and bilious complaints, but that the settlers in general have found the state, taken as a whole, favorable to health, the astonishing increase of the population bears ample testimo. ny. The winters are mild compared with New England, or even Pennsylvania. Winter commences about Christmas, and lasts seldom more than six weeks in the northern parts, snow sometimes, though rarely, falls a foot and a half in depth. Peach trees are generally in blossom in March, and the forests begin o be green from the 5th to the 15th of April. Vast numbers of flowering shrubs are in full flower before they are in leaf, which gives an inexpressible charm to the early appearauce of spring.

Although Indiana has not so great an extent of inland navigation as Illinois, the amount of that navigation is very great. Many of its waters interlock with those of the Illinois. It possesses the whole extent of the noble Wabash, and White River and its numerous

yard, and is a busy and thriving village having 1,900 inhabitants.

Vincennes is, after Kaskaskia, the oldest town in the western world, having been settled in 1735, by French emigrants from Canada. It is 150 miles above the mouth of the Wabash, and 54 from the nearest point of the Ohio, and contains 1,500 inhabitants. The plat of the town is a level, and laid off very regularly. This important place is accessible by steamboats for the greater part of the year. Most of the inhabitants have an air of ease and affluence, and Vincennes furnishes a pleasant and literary society. Harmony is 54 miles below Vincennes; the history of its settlement by Rapp, its subsequent purchase by Mr. Maclure and Robert Owen, with the failure of their Quixotic plans of happiness, and even of carthly immortality, are well known. The "Social System" has been abandoned, but some of the Owenites still linger there. The town of Harrison presents the anomaly of being in two states!-part in Ohio and part in Indiana. Richmond is a thriving place of 1,500 inhabitants.

Indianapolis, the capital, is on the west bank of White River, in the centre of one of the most extensive and fertile bodies of land in the western worldnearly central to the state, and at a point accessible to steamboats. No river in America in proportion to its size and extent, waters greater bodies of fertile land than White River. The country about this town has been settled with remarkable rapidity. But a few years since it was a dense deep forest, where the traveller now sees the buildings of a metropolis, compact streets and squares of brick buildings, manufactories, mechanic shops, printing offices, business and bustle. It will probably become one of the largest towns between Cincinnati and the Mississippi, having over 1,800 inhabitants already.

In 1820 the population of Indiana was only 147,000 -in 1830 it exceeded 344,000, and it now is considerably more than 400,000-an increase unexampled even in the west. The people are distinguished for their progress in making farms and villages, as well as for their intelligence and respectability. The soil of the Upper Wabash is of the richest quality, being black, deep, friable, and extremely productive. The face of the country is undergoing great changes, which seem to work by enchantment. Four or five years ago it had only been trodden by savages, or the animals of the wilderness. The opening of the New York canal, has caused the Lake Michigan front to be viewed as a maritime shore, and the most important front of the state. Numerous portages between the Ohio and Mississippi and the Lakes, are found in Indiana-more than twenty have been practised, and through one, canoes have passed from the Ohio to Lake Erie. These will eventually be the routes of canals, and of great importance.

Indiana has many curious subterranean caves. In one Epsom salts is found in lumps, varying from one to ten pounds; the floors and walls are covered with it in the form of a frost, which, when removed, is speedily reproduced. Nitre is also formed.

The National Road is laid out, and some part of it made through the state from east to west, passing through Indianapolis. The spirit of regard for schools, religious societies and institutions connected with them, which has so honorably distinguished the legislation of Ohio, has displayed itself in this growing state. There is a large body of the society of Friends in Indiana, who, as likewise in Ohio, have had their moral influ ence. If we could, says Mr. Flint, present a scenic map of this state, exhibiting its present condition, it would present us a grand and interesting view of deep forests, wide and flowering prairies, dotted with thousands of log cabins; and in the villages, brick houses rising beside them. We should see chasms cut out of

the forests in all directions. We should note thousands of dead trees surrounding the incipient settlements. On the edges of the prairies we should remark cabins or houses, sending up their smokes. We should see vast droves of cattle, ruminating in the vicinity in the shade. There would be a singular blending of nature and art; and to give interest to the scene, the bark hovels of the Indians in many places, would remain intermixed with the habitations of the whites. But the most pleasing part of the picture would be to see independent and respectable yeomen presiding over these great changes. The young children would be seen playing about the rustic establishments, full fed and happy, sure presages of the numbers, healthfulness, and independence of the coming generation.

Here we reluctantly take leave for the present of this interesting state, and in our next shall probably give some notice of Michigan, which we are so soon to hail as a sister state.

MY HUSBAND.
Who early took me for his wife,
And trod with me the road of life;
Through all its varied ills and strife?
My husband.

Who shar'd with me, in ev'ry woe,
And form'd my solace here below,
Where earthly storms and tempests blow?
My husband.
Who hear'd the voice of love divine,
Whose heart, the Spirit did incline,
To join his highest hopes with mine?
My husband.

Who now in dust has laid his head,
The lap of earth his clay cold bed;
To slumber with the prostrate dead?
My husband.

Who has resign'd his spirit free,
Forsaken time, and earth and me;
That he might with his Saviour be?
My husband.

Who waits, in hope, that glorious day,
When freed from death's oppressive sway;
And tears shall all be wip'd away?
My husband.

Who shall attend the angel's sound,
Loud echoing through the vast profound;
And rising, leave his burial ground?
My husband.

Whom shall I meet, at God's right hand,
With whom in glory shall I stand;
And join Redemption's chosen band?
My husband.
With whom, in heavenly worship sweet,
Shall I, in endless praises meet;
Forever join'd at Jesus' feet?

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THE MAHOGANY TREE.

THE MAHOGANY TREE.

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perseded in the houses of the rich. In 1829 the importation of mahogany to England exceeded 1900 tons.

The common mahogany tree (Sevitenia mahagoni) is one of the most majestic trees of the whole world. There are trees of greater height than the mahogany, but in Cuba and Honduras, this tree during a growth of two centuries expands to such a gigantic trunk, throws out such massive arms, and spreads the shade of its shining green leaves over such a vast surface, that even the proudest English oaks appear insignificant in comparison. A single log sometimes weighs six or seven tons. It grows in the most inaccessible situations, and a great part of the expense consists in the labor of getting it to market. Gangs of slaves of from 20 to 50 persons, commanded by a captain, and accompanied by a huntsman, whose duty it is to search out trees, set out in August from Honduras, and fixing on an abundant neighborhood, a sufficient number of trees are felled to employ the gang during the season. The tree is cut about ten feet from the ground. The trunk is the most valuable, but for omamental purposes the limbs are preferred. The making the roads upon which the wood is to be transported, is estimated at two thirds of the labor and expense of mahogany cutting. Fire is resorted to, to clear the way; bridges of great strength have to be constructed, and miles of road made to a single tree, from which sometimes one, and sometimes three or four logs are obtained. Oxen, in teams of eight to twelve pair, are employed to transport the logs; the largest one ever cut in Honduras was 17 feet long, and 57 inches broad; depth 64 inches, measuring 5,168 superficial feet, and weighing 15 tons.

Each truck requires two drivers, sixteen men to cut food for the animals, and twelve to load. The heat is so great that the labor of loading has to be done in the night. The logs are pushed up an inclined plane by bodily exertion, without any further mechanical aid. The river reached, the logs marked with the owner's name are pitched into the stream. When the rivers in June are swelled the logs float down a distance of 200 miles, followed by the gangs in canoes, to disengage them from the overhanging branches of trees, until they are stopped by a boom near the mouth of the river. Each gang now separates its own cutting by the marks, and form them into rafts, in which state they are brought to the wharves of the proprietors, taken out of the water and undergo a second process of the axe, to make the surface smooth. The split ends, occasioned by being dashed against the rocks, are sawed off, and they are ready for shipping. The process of veneering is of recent origin; by it nine tenths of the wood is saved, being glued on to pine and other woods. It is sawed in Philadelphia into thin veneers by steam, a process of reducing and yet saving appearances, which will no doubt sometime be applied to marble for building even to a greater extent than at present.

No man can possibly improve in any company, for which he has no respect enough to be under some degree of restraint.

Written for the Casket.
AN ELEGY
On the fate of the unfortunate Jane M'Crea.
When greatness falls, its deed-ennobled name
Lives priz'd by mortals, and endear'd to fame;
When Virtue dies, the world laments its doom,
And grateful tributes crown its honor'd tomb;
When Valor sinks in victory's arms to rest,
Its name is hallow'd, and its memory blest;
When Genius crush'd in early promise dies,
Taste weeps with Truth, where nature's votary lies;
When Beauty blanched by slow disease decays,
Youth mourns its fall, and Friendship breathes its praise:
What then to thee, oh, beauteous maid! is due,
Whose form was lovely as thy soul was true;
Who fell ere life hope's promise could impart,
Or love's fruition cheer thy constant heart.
Doom'd by an aim that sped its deadly power,
From random hands, in fate's avenging hour;
As some sweet warbler spurns his nest to try
His wayward wings along the alluring sky;
Wild with new freedom cleaves his joyous way.
Warm'd in the glow of Sol's reviving ray,
Till from beneath the sportsman's watchful sight,
With leaden death compels him from his flight;
His song unfinished, whilst his wings were spread,
Ere yet his glance could tell by whom he bled;
And drops him strengthless on the ground to lie,
There welter anguished, grow congeal'd, and die.
What tribute-gifts thy memory mourn'd should crown,
To swell the story of thy sad renown:
Let Time relate, for Time alone can know,
What future good from former ills may flow;
Let History tell, whose thrilling record brings
Back from the past the view of vanish'd things;
'Tis Truth alone that substance gives to song,
Those tints to Fancy's magic touch belong.
Let nature tell, whose changing round imparts,
Gloom to our souls, or gladness to our hearts;
Let Pity tell, while glistening tear-drops steal,
She hearts must move who pain can keenest feel;
Let Friendship tell; she best can speak thy praise,
Who knows the joy that mutual love repays:
And whilst the soul in musing o'er thy fall,
Partakes the spell of each--the power of all,
Let song her requiem pour around thy tornb,
And Fancy wreathe a garland due thy doom.
No mystic rites from holy tongues were thine,
In death's cold sleep thy beauty to resign;
But Peace was priestess o'er thy virgin clay,
When nature's arms embrac'd thee in decay.
No hearse-drawn train with mournful steps and slow,
Were seen to yield th' accustom'd signs of woe;
But duteous there a remnant of the brave,
Bent o'er thy wreck, and form'd thy humble grave.
With gentle care thy burial shrouds array'd,

And 'neath yon pine thy blood-stained relics laid:
Where from the boughs the oriole chim'd his song,
And gurgling leap'd the fountain's stream along.
In earth's green breast by warrior-hands enshrin'd,
--Beauty in death by valor's side reclin'd!
But unforgetful grief her debt hath paid,
In sad remembrance of thy lonely shade;
And faithful hands have burst thy cell of sleep,
Thy dust to honor, and thy fall to weep-

And maiden-trains from rural hamlets nigh,
Have borne thy relics thence to where they lie;
There rear'd the slab that tells thy joyless doom,
And points the pilgrim to thy new-made tomb;
Where nature blends with art's etherial glow,
To mark thy rest, and tell thy tale of woe.
Ne'er shall thy fate around thee fail to draw,
Hearts ever true to nature's kindliest law:
To trace the spot whereon thy beauty bled,
And coldly death love's sinless semblance wed;
The haunted scene whereby thy suffering clay,
Reclin'd in blood, and stiffened in decay;
Where startling shrieks in savage madness rose,
And rous'd the panther from his lair's repose:
Where crouch'd in ambush watch'd the fatal foe,
To fire aloof, or deal the deadly blow.
Where for awhile the woods with warfare rung,
Till doubt no longer on the conflict hung;
Where strife dismay'd the feeble band that bore
Thy plighted form with life-blood crimson'd o'er,
Whose murd'rous fingers gashed thy yielding brain,
And peal'd thy ringlets, as from foeman slain;
Where, seal'd the fountain, still the pine tree stands,
Notch'd by the bird's bills, and the strangers' hands,
Rocking its rude boughs to the shivering gale,
The time-worn witness of thy chilling tale.
Or pensive tread the village grave-yard round,
'Midst tombs defac'd, and many a mouldering mound;
There lonely loiter, where embower'd in green,
Thy marble crowns the fair surrounding scene;
In silence pause from truth's chaste lines to learn
Thy tale of blood, and sigh above thy urn;
Where oft at even village bands repair,
And sadly breathe their hearts' confiding there;
Where, pledg'd in love, youth's guileless lips implore
For hearts as constant, and for lives as pure;
Where valor's sons survey thy humble grave,
While grow their hearts for woman doubly brave:
Where minstrel-spirits waste a musing hour,
Invoking nature's song-inspiring power.

Where youth's fair hands, earth's flowery tributes strew,
And morn and eve thy turf's green breast bedew.
Where summer songsters trill their music wild,
Which sweetly once thy sinless love beguil'd;
Where night-winds breathe their dirges o'er thy grave,
And the green-sward and trembling tree leaves wave:
While unseen guardians, bending from above,
Shield thy sad sleep, and bless thy life of love.

But vain may roll the poet's tuneful line,
Since praises breath'd from every tongue are thine;
In vain for thee his mournful song may flow,
Since grief to feel, is but thy fate to know;
In vain may strike his lyre's elegiac string,
Since round thee history's muse her spell doth fling;
In vain may feeling her sad dirge impart,
Since pity's throb is thrine from every heart;
In vain his verse thy hapless tale may chime,
'Tis trac'd in blood upon the scroll of time.
Fate's bleeding victim! not alone to die,
Is it that wins thee tears from pity's eye;
"Tis not alone that thou in love wert pure,
That living hearts thy dying pangs deplore;
But thus to fall in beauty's rosy bloom,
Bride-robes thy shroud, thy nuptial-bed the tomb;
Just as hope held love's blissful prize in view,

THE DREAMS OF YOUTH-THE GREEN TAPER.

To grasp, and prove it mockery and untrue;
To share in death what fate in darkness gave,
A lover's anguish, and a martyr's grave;
'Tis this sad end that draws around thy name
The glow of fancy, and the charm of fame;

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THE GREEN TAPER. Among the unfortunate Moriscoes who were forced to quit Spain in 1610, there was a very rich farmer. As the object of the government was, to hurry the Moriscoes out of the country

And prompts the heart, while feeling's flame shall burn, without allowing them to remove their property,

Thy name to cherish, and thy fate to mourn.

Thou fairly featur'd, and celestial soul'd,
In war's dread annals by thy doom enroll'd;
For ever blended with thy country's rise,
And dear to man where'er thy story flies;
Tho' lost to freedom her proud strength decay,
Time o'er her wreck triumphant shall display,
Long as the world revolves, or stars shall shine,
Thy name immortal, as thy love divine!

While Fame doth teach from Sappho's saddening tale,
How little life can spurn'd in love avail;
From those who nightly swarm the Grecian wave,
What perils hearts dissever'd dare to brave;
From fair Lucretia's shuddering tale of crime,
How love avenges shame in souls sublime;
From Juliet's hopeless thrall and rending fate,
Love's madness stronger than parental hate;
From Abelard's and Eloisa's fire,

The raging tumults of unbless'd desire;
Thy harrowing tale its lesson too may lend,
Teach beauty's frailty, life's uncertain end—
And learn the world the endearing traits to scan,
Of woman pledg'd in love thro' life to man.

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But soon departs the rosy morn of youth,
No more we rove beneath unclouded skies,
And age mature unveils the chilling truth,

That dreams of bliss are not realities.
Our bark glides not as smoothly as before,
And Eden breezes swell the sail no more.
By mingling in the stir and strife of men,
The finer feelings of the soul decay,
Our early visions prove abortive then,

And smiles no longer greet us on our way. Time leaves his furrows on the sunken cheek, Where health once painted his rich, rosy streak,

We linger fondly o'er departed years,

And oft in fancy do the past retread, Before the eye grew dim with lava-tears

When blossoms perfume in our pathway shed; When hope allured us, with her syren smile, And human bosoms seem'd devoid of guile.

We sadly find by retrospective glance,

How few are living whom in youth we knew, The voiceless tomb, their last inheritance.

Conceals their forms forever from our view. Our dreams of pleasure vanish, when we know That life is but a pilgrimage of woe.

AVON BARD.

many buried their money and jewels, in hopes of returning from Africa at a future period.Muley Hassem, according to our popular tradition, had contrived a vault under the close porch of his house. Distrusting his Christian neighbors, he had there accumulated great quantities of gold and pearls, which upon his quitting the country, were laid under a spell by another Morisco, deeply versed in the secret arts. The jealousy of the Spaniards, and the severe penalties enacted against such of the exiles as should return, precluded Muley Hassem, from all opportunities of recovering his treasure. He died intrusting the secret to an only daughter, who having grown up at Seville, was perfectly acquainted with the spot under the charm. Fatima married, and was soon left a widow, with a daughter, whom she taught Spanish, hoping to make her pass for a native of the Peninsula. Urged by the approach of poverty which sharpened the desire to make use of the secret intrusted to her, Fatima, and her daughter Zuleima, embarked in the vessel of a Corsair, and were landed secretly in a cove near Huelva. Dressed in the costume of the peasantry, and having assumed Christian names, both mother and daughter made their way to Seville on foot, or by an occasional conveyance which offered on the road. To avoid suspicion, they gave out that they were returning from the performance of a vow to a celebrated image of the Virgin near Moguer. I will not tire you with details as to the means, by which Fatima, obtained a place for herself and daughter, in the family then occupying her paternal house. Her constant endeavors to please her master and mistress, succeeded to the utmost of her wishes; the beauty and innocence of Zuleima, then only fourteen, needed no studied efforts to obtain the affection of the whole family.

When Fatima thought that the time was come, she prepared her daughter for the important, and awful task, of recovering the concealed treasure, of which she had constantly talked to her since the child could understand her meaning. The winter came on, the family moved to the first floor as usual; and Fatima asked to be allowed one of the ground floor rooms for herself and Zuleima. About the middle of December, when the periodical rains threatened to make the Guadalquiver overflow its banks, and scarcely a soul stirred out after sunset, Fatima, provided, with a rope and basket, anxiously awaited the hour of midnight to commence her incantation. Her daughter stood trembling by her side in the porch, to which they had groped their way in the dark. The large bell of the cathedral clock, whose sound had a most startling effect, in the dead silence of the night, tolled the hour, and the melancholy peal of supplication followed for about two minutes. All now was still except the wind and rain.Fatima, unlocking with some difficulty the cold hands of her daughter out of her's struck with a flint, and lighted a green taper, not more than

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