and watering a region distinguished by features peculiarly beautiful and sublime.

The land, which Captain Smith had come within sight of, was uncommonly low. It appeared, at a distance, like the tops of trees emerging above the water; and as the squadron approached the coast there was not the smallest acclivity visible; the prospect never rising above the height of the pines, which everywhere covered the soil.

Of the promontories of the bay, Captain Smith named the southernmost Cape Henry, and the northernmost Cape Charles; in compliment to the sons of the reigning monarch; and though the vessels dropt frequently their anchors, yet sixteen days were spent in seeking a proper place for their first settlement.

The shores were now lined with the natives, who gazed with ineffable astonishment at the squadron under sail, and prostrated themselves at the thunder of their cannon. Their wonder may be conceived at the sight of a ship. They were confounded to see the monster come sailing into their harbour, and spitting fire with a mighty noise out of her floating side.

Captain Smith went on shore in his boat, and was kindly received by the natives, who invited him and his companions to their town, Kecoughtan, where Hampton is now built. It was situated at the head of a spacious bay, which ran up north from the mouth of Powhatan river, and is now so popular under the name of Hampton Roads. Here they were feasted on cakes made of Indian corn, and regaled with tobacco and a dance.

Proceeding up the river, another company of Indians appeared in arms; and their chief, Apamatica, holding in one hand his bow and arrow, and in the other a pipe of tobacco, demanded the cause of their coming; they made signs of peace, and were hospitably received.

Having searched the whole of the river Powhatan, Captain Smith, on the 13th of May, with the unanimous consent of the colonists, made choice of a peninsula, where the ships could lie moored to the trees, as the place of their intended settlement. Here they were visited by Pasipha, another Indian chief; who, being made acquainted with their design, offered them as much land as they wanted. On this spot the colonists built their huts, and Captain Smith threw up a small fort, in the form of a half-moon, which he barricaded with trunks of trees. To their settlement they very consistently gave the

name of James Town; and, in the same spirit of compliment, dignified Powhatan with the title of James river.

After five weeks' stay before the town, the ships, having recruited their wood and water, set sail again for England; leaving one hundred and eight adventurers to establish the colony.

LESSON III.

First Settlement of New England, 1620.-E. Everett.

COULD a common calculation of policy have dictated the terms of that settlement, no doubt our foundations would have been laid beneath the royal smile. Convoys and navies would have been solicited, to waft our fathers to the coast; armies, to defend the infant communities; and the flattering patronage of princes and lords, to espouse their interests in the councils of the mother country.

Happy, that our fathers enjoyed no such patronage; happy, that they fell into no such protecting hands; happy, that our foundations were silently and deeply cast in quiet insignificance, beneath a charter of banishment, persecution, and contempt; so that when the royal arm was at length outstretched against us, instead of a submissive child, tied down by former graces, it found a youthful giant in the land, born amidst hardships, and nourished on the rocks, indebted for no favours, and owing no duty.

From the dark portals of the star chamber, and in the stern texts of the acts of uniformity, the pilgrims received a commission, more efficient, than any that ever bore the royal seal. Their banishment to Holland was fortunate; the decline of their little company in the strange land was fortunate; the difficulties, which they experienced, in getting the royal consent to banish themselves to this wilderness, were fortunate; all the tears and heart-breakings of that ever memorable parting at Delfthaven, had the happiest influence on the rising destinies of New England.

These rough

All this purified the ranks of the settlers. touches of fortune brushed off the light, uncertain, selfish spirits. They made it a grave, solemn, self-denying expedition, and required of those, who engaged in it, to be so too. They cast a broad shadow of thought and seriousness over

the cause, and if this sometimes deepened into melancholy and bitterness, can we find no apology for such a human weakness?

It is sad indeed to reflect on the disasters, which the little band of pilgrims encountered. Sad to see a portion of them, the prey of unrelenting cupidity, treacherously embarked in an unsound, unseaworthy ship, which they are soon obliged to abandon, and crowd themselves into one vessel; one hundred persons, besides the ship's company, in a vessel of one hundred and sixty tons. One is touched at the story of the long, cold, and weary autumnal passage; of the landing on the inhospitable rocks at this dismal season; where they are deserted, before long, by the ship which had brought them, and, which seemed their only hold upon the world of fellowmen, a prey to the elements and to want, and fearfully ignorant of the numbers, of the power, and the temper of the savage tribes, that filled the unexplored continent, upon whose verge they had ventured.

But all this wrought together for good. These trials of wandering and exile of the ocean, the winter, the wilderness, and the savage foe were the final assurance of success. It was these, that put far away from our father's cause, all patrician softness, all hereditary claims to pre-eminence.

No effeminate nobility crowded into the dark and austere ranks of the pilgrims. No Carr nor Villiers would lead on the ill provided band of despised Puritans. No well endowed clergy were on the alert, to quit their cathedrals, and set up a pompous hierarchy in the frozen wilderness. No craving governours were anxious to be sent over to our cheerless El Dorados of ice and of snow.

No, they could not say they had encouraged, patronised, or helped the pilgrims; their own cares, their own labours, their own counsels, their own blood, contrived all, achieved all, bore all, sealed all. They could not afterwards fairly pretend to reap where they had not strewn; and as our fathers reared this broad and solid fabric with pains and watchfulness, unaided, barely tolerated, it did not fall, when the favour, which had always been withholden, was changed into wrath; when the arm, which had never supported, was raised to destroy.

Methinks I see it now, that one solitary, adventurous vessel, the Mayflower of a forlorn hope, freighted with the prospects of a future state, and bound across the unknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedious voyage. Suns rise and set, and weeks and months

pass, and winter surprises them on the deep, but brings them not the sight of the wished for shore.

I see them now, scantily supplied with provisions, crowded almost to suffocation in their ill stored prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuitous route-and now driven in fury before the raging tempest, on the high and giddy waves. The awful voice of the storm howls through the rigging.

The labouring masts seem straining from their base-the dismal sound of the pumps is heard-the ship leaps, as it were, madly, from billow to billow-the ocean breaks, and settles with engulphing floods over the floating deck, and beats with deadening, shivering weight, against the staggered vessel.

I see them, escaped from these perils, pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice clad rocks of Plymouth-weak and weary from the voyage-poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of their ship-master for a draught of beer on board, drinking nothing but water on shore-without shelter-without means-surrounded by hostile tribes.

Shut now the volume of history, and tell me, on any principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handful of adventurers. Tell me, man of military science, in how many months were they all swept off by the thirty savage tribes, enumerated within the early limits of New England? Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast?

Student of history, compare for me the baffled projects, the deserted settlements, the abandoned adventures of other times, and find the parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, beating upon the houseless heads of women and children? was it hard labour and spare meals-was it disease-was it the tomahawk-was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a ruined enterprise and a broken heart, aching in its last moments, at the recollection of the loved and left beyond the sea; was it some or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate?

And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope? Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, an expansion so ample, a reality so important, a promise, yet to be fulfilled, so glorious?

LESSON IV.

The Golden Age of New York, under the Dutch Governour, Wouter Van Twiller.-WASHINGTON IRVING.

I WILL not grieve the patience of my readers, by describing minutely the increase and improvement of New Amsterdam. Their own imaginations will doubtless present to them the good burghers, like so many pains-taking and persevering beavers, slowly and surely pursuing their labours-they will behold the prosperous transformation from the rude log hut to the stately Dutch mansion, with brick front, glazed windows, and tiled roof-from the tangled thicket to the lux riant cabbage garden; and from the skulking Indian to the ponderous burgomaster. In a word, they will picture to themselves the steady, silent, and undeviating march to prosperity, incident to a city destitute of pride or ambition, cherished by a fat government, and whose citizens do nothing in a hurry.

The sage council, not being able to determine upon any plan for building of their city-the cows, in a laudable fit of patriotism, took it under their peculiar charge, and as they went to and from pasture, established paths through the bushes, on each side of which the good folks built their houses; which is one cause of the rambling and picturesque turns and labyrinths, which distinguish certain streets of New York at this very day..

The houses of the higher class were generally constructed of wood, excepting the gable end, which was of small black and yellow Dutch bricks, and always faced on the street, as our ancestors, like their descendants, were very much given to outward show, and were noted for putting the best foot foremost. The house was always furnished with abundance of large doors and small windows on every floor, the date of its erection was curiously designated, by iron figures on the front, and on the top of the roof, was perched a fierce little weathercock, to let the family into the important secret, which way the wind blew. These, like the weathercocks on the tops of our steeples, pointed so many different ways, that every man could have a wind to his mind;—the most stanch and loyal citizens, however, always went according to the weathercock on the top of the governour's house, which was certainly the most correct, as he had a trusty servant employed every morning to climb up and set it to the right quarter.