after the appointment of that chief to the command of the army. The purport of this letter was, to persuade the general to go over to the British cause. It was carried to him by a Mrs. Ferguson, a daughter of one Dr. Graham, a Scottish physician in Philadelphia. Washington at that time lay at Valley Forge, and this lady, on the pretext of paying him a visit, as they were previously acquainted, went to the camp. The general received her in his tent, with much respect, for he greatly admired the masculine vigor of her mind.

When she had delivered the letter, he read it attentively, and rising from his seat, walked backward and forward upward of an hour, without speaking. He appeared to be much agitated during the greatest part of the time; but at length, having decided with himself, he stopped, and addressed her in nearly the following words:

'Madam, I have always esteemed your character and endowments: and I am fully sensible of the noble principles by which you are actuated on this occasion; nor has any man in the whole continen more confidence in the integrity of his friend, than I have in th honor of Mr. Duchey. But I am here entrusted by the people America with sovereign authority. They have placed their liv and fortunes at my disposal, believing me to be an honest ma Were I therefore to desert their cause, and consign them again the British, what would be the consequence? To myself perpet infamy, and to them endless calamity. The seeds of everlasting vision are sown between the two countries. And, were the Brit again to become our masters, they would have to maintain their minion by force, and would after all retain us in subjection only they would hold their bayonets to our breasts. No, madam ; proposal of Mr. Duchey, though conceived with the best intentio not framed in wisdom. America and England must be sepa states; but they may have common interests, for they are BUT PEOPLE. It will therefore be the object of my life and ambition establish the independence of America in the first place; and in second, to arrange such a community of interests between the nations, as shall indemnify them for the calamities which they suffer, and form a new era in the history of nations.'

This declaration made on me a lasting impression. I we member when on the first occasion I landed at New-York, the of convulsive emotion with which I heard, on every side, that t rent language of the country was English. It affected me with of painful surprise, although I well knew I was to hear no other from that evening, the words of Washington took enfeoffment mind. Often and often did I think in America of what ways t tion of the general could be reduced into the form of a comp I think so still; but I am too little of a politician to say how t deratum may be attained. Nevertheless, one of the objects of!! lication is, to suggest the consideration of the measure to the ent and the enlightened. To what influence, indeed, might great free nations aspire, over 'the nations not so blest,' we bound together by a fellowship such as the ' EMANCIPATOR WEST' contemplated!

17th March, 1838.

'Alas! Orooko, you will not discern
The good, the blessing, in Antonio given.'

But with a firmer, though a sadder voice,
The solemn old man in compassion said:
'Beneath the boughs of these far-spreading bowers
We happy dwelt, and with the morning light
Our hymn, as cheerful as the thankful birds',
Rose to the Powers that bless'd us; all the day
The active chase gave energy to health,
And when at night, our frugal meal despatch'd,
We stretch'd ourselves secure on Nature's lap,
And fear'd no danger in the form of man,
For we had nothing then that could be stol'n!
Spirit of Nature! did my tongue say nothing?
Yes, we had happiness, the bosom's gem,
But the wave's outcast has purloin'd them all!'

'He has enrich'd with better,' said the youth,
"Taught us to raise our homes and sheltering sheds,
The woes with which the God avenges guilt,
And the great promise of another life,

The glorious morning after death's dark night;
But the king summons you- obey the king.'

Oreoko musingly replied:

'I cannot aid him in his new designs;

My heart grows cold whene'er by chance afar
My wand'ring eyes see through the opening woods
This rising town, and dread presages come
That mighty deities, whose thrones of fire
Deep in the hollow of the mountains glow,
Will burst abroad, and hurl in floods of flame
The mad apostates and their homes away.
But what can Yamos now require of me?
Oh! he was once the sunbeam of my soul,
And surely did prolific Nature ne'er
A being fashion in the form of man,
So good, so kind, so modest, and so brave.
Methinks I could have pardon'd all the tribes,
Had they rais'd altars to adore that youth;
For they had but adored in him

The embodied excellence of all that lives.'

Arak compassionately heard him speak,

And said with reverence mingling with his sorrow,
The queen of late, drooping, forgoes his love,
And he desires that with your speediest skill
You would restore to him her wonted fonduess.'

The old man sigh'd, and then, relenting, said:
'Though she too is apostate, I will go;
Lead on, I'll follow: never but to take
Some gentle essence of appeasing herbs,
To quiet sorrow or extinguish pain,
Shall e'er my feet toward Atlantis tend.'

Meanwhile the king fraternal kindness felt
For strange Antonio, whose inspiring power
Awoke the slumbering genius of the land,
And thus his gratitude and hope express'd:

"Thrice have the trees renew'd and shed their leaves,
And the fourth fruit hangs blushing on the bough,
Since thou, Antonio, child of Providence,
Wast on our shore cast from the mystic waves,
To bless our wilds and regions undivulg'd.
How rich in knowledge hast thou made us all!
Yes, as the new moon out of darkness born,
Thou cheer'st our spirits with the blest reflex
Of that eternal light, which o'er thy world
Sheds its bright mid-day beams. In all this time,

With radiant wisdom ever blessing us,
Thou hast thyself remain'd alone unblest.'

Antonio sadden'd as he spoke, and said,
Like one that humbly with contrition grieves :
Most gracious Yamos! in what I have done,
I have in the effects a rich reward..

Yes, in the honors which the good unborn
Will pay my name, I do a meed foretaste.

The time will come, when from the eastern world,
With swan-like pomp, some daring mariner

Will this way steer, to whom these scenes unknown,
Of inland seas and forests infinite,

Shall be reveal'd. When that blest dove shall find

The arts of Europe and the Christian faith,

My name will shine in bright equality

With that of Abraham or Cadmus, they

Who in the olden time taught mankind truth.'

Benignant Yamos gently took his hand,

And, more with reverence than with friendship, spoke: 'But wherefore wilt thou not be one of us?

Our nations will to thy posterity

Give higher honors than to all our kings.
I pray thee, friend, or rather should I say,
Creative genius of this woodland world,"
Consent to what I pray for fair Morà
Has long the influence of thy virtues felt;
Felt as the flower that feels the solar beam.
You seem perplext! why are you thus disturb'd?'

Antonio wiped away a rueful tear,

And answer'd with a lowly contrite voice:
'My heart is glowing full of gratitude;
But in the fost'ring of your infant state,
I have abundant blessing. Did I yield
To soft endearments, my ennobling aims
Might sink abortive, propagating wo.'

"Thou hast, Antonio, yet but precept given;
Give us example, too, that we may see,
By thy bright practice, how to guide ourselves.
The rights of fathers, husbands, sons, and men,
Thou hast to us prescrib'd, take now a wife,
And thereby show us we example need.'

The glozing spirit of the eastern clime
Enter'd Antonio, yet his conscious heart
Could not but mourn, as thus he did mislead :
"There is a beauty, Sir, in principles
Which men who most in theory revere,
Cannot transpose into their way of life.
I have denied myself connubial love,
Lest I should not in practice well conform
To those blest principles I try to teach.'

Yamos, with awe, such as of old with which
The votive pilgrim at Dodona's shrine
Heard the responses of the oracle,
Said as a worshipper, and then withdrew,
'I own the god-like grandeur of thy thought,
And do thee homage; but while thus you scorn
A conscious, fallen, fearful, erring man,
Such virtue makes you glorious and divine.'

Antonio stood as one convicted stands,
And weeping briny bitterness, exclaim'd:
'How black and horrible methinks I seem,
Beside the lustre of thy purer mind!
Thou dost sustain me, Yamos, in thy love,
As the new moon in its embrace of brightness
Holds in its arms the dark and rayless old.'

Meanwhile to Idda from Antonio went
The noble Yamos, pensive to have fail'd,
And thus he tried her waywardness to soothe:
'Alas, dear Idda! wherefore shun'st thou me?
The time was once, that I was all to thee;
The blossom breathing to the noontide sun
Its bosom's fragrance, never was more true
To it than thou to me; but thou art chang'd,
Ah me, how changed! looking askance on me
As on some hateful reptile that you fear'd.'

Moved by his sadness, conscious of a sin,
She answer'd, shudd'ring as with penitence:
I know not, Yamos, why I should be thus;
I would to thee be what I was before,

But some foul vapor doth my brain infect,
And stain the wonted substance of my thoughts.'

Yamos replied: 'Since good Antonio
Hath not been potent to turn back again
Thy wander'd love, but ever still the more
This woful change works with increas'd dislike,

I have sent Arak to the old Orooko,

To bring him with his healthful simples here,
That we may try their power.' Idda exclaim'd:
'Leave where he lives that petulent old man!
What would he here, but fret, as he was wont,
Against Antonio, and with greeting eyes
Make still more irksome my unhappy heart?'

Griev'd Yamos said, almost bewailingly:
'Does he, too, Idda, grow unloved of thee?
Once that old man to thee was as a god'·
'But is he not Antonio's enemy?'

Cried the alarmed queen, and may he not
Come but to harm, and wither with dismay!?

Perturbed Yamos said, as if t' appease
Some dread, begotten of an ailing fancy:
'He has refus'd to take the Christian faith,
Yet there's no enmity in his kind nature;
I'd think as soon Antonio bad and false,
As I could think the father would molest.'

'But wherefore bring him here?' the queen inquir'd:
'Art thou not ill at ease?' the king replied;
'Fair Morà droops, and all our med'cines fail.
Alas, poor Morà, solitary still,

With hopeless wishes she must ever pine:
Antonio has rejected her.' 'Rejected!'
The startled Idda, in amazement, cried:

'He will not marry!' sigh'd the youthful king;
'On his great purpose constantly intent,
He'll never join his fate to womankind;
I wish him happy who 's my people blest.'

'But he rejected her, and will not marry?'

With gladdening earnestness the queen inquired;

And Yamos answer'd: Why delights that you?

LITERARY NOTICES.

A GRAMMAR OF THE GREEK LANGUAGE, FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES. By CHARLES ANTHON, LL.D. In one volume. pp. 284. New-York: HARPER AND BROTHERS.

In the last number of this Magazine, we called the attention of the public to an edition of Cæsar's Commentaries, by this accomplished scholar, and we now hail with equal pleasure the appearance of a Greek grammar, worthy in every respect of the source whence it emanates. Our limits would not permit us to review a work of the depth and calibre of the one before us, were it otherwise in our power. It must suffice, therefore, that we record our opinions of the volume, with such brief mention of our reasons for maintaining them, as may comport with our time and space. The utility of such a work is unquestionable. No Greek grammar has heretofore existed, at all adequate to the wants of the early students in that most copious, and at the same time most delicately correct, of languages; the preliminary works, such as the Eton and Westminster grammars, being bald and meagre in many parts of vital importance, and needlessly diffuse in others of far less consequence; while those of a more advanced character, such as Matthias', particularly, in two octavo volumes, are too extended in their plan, and too deep in their acumen, for mere beginners. It would not perhaps be too much to say, that this grammar is at the same time simpler than any yet in existence, even of the most compressed, and more correctly learned than the most voluminous. Beyond all question, it is the best Greek grammar we have ever met, and we believe it to be the best ever published; for while it is eminently easy of comprehension, clear in its arrangement, and happy in its illustration, it contains every thing needful for the attainment of the glorious language to which it is the key, even in its highest branches. We have not, as we have said, the time to go fully into its points of difference from, and superiority to, other grammars; but to come at the matter shortly, its greatest merit is to be found, not in any great degree of originality for the subject has been already so fully treated as to leave little room for new discoveries- but in that lucidus ordo, that clear arrangement, and easy exposition of the subject, which is indeed the all in all, in the severe and ill-appreciated art of teaching. It consists, in short, in a new way of telling things, known for the most part before; but so perfect in its simplicity, no less than its fulness, is this new way, that we are convinced that by means of this Grammar, a boy may obtain a very tolerable insight into the minutia of the Greek language, before, by the old method, he would have learned the formation of the tenses. From the first page to the last, this quality is apparent; and a person at all conversant with the subject, might arrive at the conclusion, which we have reached by a careful study of the greater part of the work, by merely reading the excellent remarks on the accents- - (too much neglected by far, as well as their more necessary adjunct, the prosodial quantities, in the general education of this country,) which, in the short space of a single page, contain all that can be said on the subject, within the comprehension of the learner; while the more