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The Corresponding Secretary of the Board of Commissioners is in constant expectation of hearing from the Committee at Calcutta, as the first communications from the Board were doubtless received by that Committee in the summer of 1813, the vessel by which they were sent having arrived safely at that port.

OBITUARY.

DIED, at Burlington, (Ver.) the Hon. WILLIAM C. HARRINGTON, Esq. Counsellor at Law, for many years a member of the Council of that state, aged 58.

At Albany, EBENEZER FOOT, Esq. Counsellor at Law, aged 41.

At New York, a child 5 years old, of the Hydrophobia, after 48 hours illness.

At Paris, about the 1st. of June, JOSEPHINE BONAPARTE, sometime since Empress of Erance. She was married to Napoleon, at that time General Bonaparte, in 1796; crowned and consecrated Empress of France in 1804, and Queen of Italy in 1806; received unbounded flattery from authors and courtiers till she was divorced from her imperial master in 1810, since which time she had lived in comparative retirement. Her age was 51. At Richmond, (Vir.) WILLIAM SCOTT, a retailer, murdered in his own shop.

At Chilicothe, (Ohio,) six U. S. soldiers, shot for desertion.

At Westfield, Mrs. JERUSHA KNAPP, wife of the Rev. Isaac Knapp, aged 36. At East Bloomfield, (N. Y.) POLYDORE B. WISNER, Esq. District Attorney for the four eastern counties of New York, aged 49.

At Blanford, on the 18th ult. Miss BETSEY BOTES, in consequence of being burnt by accidentally setting on fire some cotton clothes with her candle, as she was going to bed. The curtain was soon enveloped in flames, and she was so injured as to occasion her death after lingering four weeks. Her age was 18.

At Boston, on the 25th ult. Mr. SEWALL PHELPS, aged 46, of the hydrophobia. He was bitten by a dog, supposed to be mad, about six weeks before his death. He disregarded the injury; but was seized five days before his death with the symptoms of that terrible disorder of which he died in great agony.

At Kilingworth, Con. on the 20th ult. the Rev ACHILLES MANSFIELD, pastor of the congregational church in that town, aged 63. Mr. Mansfield was graduated at Yale college in 1770. He was elected a member of the Corporation of that College in 1810.

In France, M. CoURNAUD, Professor of French literature in the Royal College.

POETRY.

THE ESQUIMAUX WITH THE BIBLE.
For the Panoplist.

The following lines, on the giving of the Gospel to the Esquimaux, were occa sioned by reading in a late Panoplist,* a speech of the Rev. Mr. Chalmers, before the Bible Society of Fife and Kinross, in Scotland.

BY A YOUNG LADY.

ROUND that wide bay, whose waters free,
With slow, sad, current seek the sea,
Hoarse billows rock the rugged shore
Of cold and dismal Labrador.

There as the lonely sailor keeps
His night-watch on those awful deeps,
And weaves the lay in cheerful tune,
To greet the slowly rising moon,
Huge icy mounts of fearful size
Float on to meet his frantic eyes,
Cleave his frail bark with thundering sweep
And spread its fragments o'er the deep.
With loud, loud cries of thrilling pain,
Start from their beds the helpless train,
Who soon shall sleep, nor wake again.
Cold to the raft their limbs congeal,
Their icy hearts forget to feel,
Dim close their eyes in silent sleep,
On their last couch-the northern deep.
Perchance, upon the flinty beach,
Their dry, unburied, bones may bleach,
Where deserts stretch in trackless snow,
And broad lakes fill, but never flow,
And crystal rocks with frightful ledge
Hang sparkling o'er the water's edge.
There the dim sun reluctant throws
His scatter'd rays o'er polar snows,
But wakes to speed his glowing car,
And leaves the icy coast afar;
Pale float his beams on frosty skies
As in white foam the ship-light dies.

There life's frail lamp with livid ray, Burns feebly in its cell of clay, And lights a weak and tawny race, Devoid of science, wit, or grace. For them no Spring with gentle care, Paints the young bud, and scents the air; Nor Autumn bids the loaded stem Scatter its sweet repast for them.. No storied page, nor learned strife, Nor arts that lend delight to life, Nor lighted dome, nor festive song, Sheds lustre o'er their winter long; But wrapt in skins, by long pursuit Torn rudely from the fallen brute, Close throng'd in hidden vaults they rest, Within the drear earth's mould'ring breast, Hear the wild storm above them pour, Or dull with sleep forget its roar.

*See the Pan. for Nov. last, p. 420.

Longnight-dark night-with heavy sway, Hangs frowning o'er their homes of clay, The pale pale stars, that break the gloom, Glance coldly on their living tomb.

Ah! what can cheer that lonely spot, Or bind the suff'rer to his lot? The hand that spread those frigid skies, And gave the polar storm to rise; The Hand that stretch'd that frozen plain And shew'd to man his drear domain; Gave to enhance the scanty store, An humble mind that ask'd no more. And yet a better boon than this In later times He gave,

A warning voice-a call to blissA hope beyond the grave;

A page whose lustre shines to bless
The lone retreat of wretche iness.
The Indian reads;-his pray'rs arise
To Him who hears a sinner's cries;
Sounds soft as music seem to roll,
Strong lights are kindled in his soul,
While deep repentance, watchful care,
And grateful love are rising there;
And tears stand trembling in his eye
That Christ the Lord, for him should die.
Now when the storm more feebly blows,
And cold plants creep thro' wasted snows;
When Summer lifts its fleeting wings,
With ardor to his task he springs,
Blesses the hand that gilds the scene,
And kindly spreads a sky serene.

Nor wintry storms to him are drear,
Though hoarse they thunder in his ear,
Who, in his humble cell at rest,
Feels peace divine inspire his breast,
And sees fair Hope, in heavn'ly bloom,
Descend to share his clay-built room.

Thus to his silent grave he goes,
And meekly sinks to long repose,
In firm belief at last to hear
The strong Archangel rend the sphere,
A trump proclaim the day of doom,
A hand break up his ice-bound tomb,
And bear him where no pain shall come,
Nor winter shroud the scene with gloom;
No withering plant, no flinty soil,
Nor want be found, nor fruitless toil;
No lamp emit a glimm❜ring ray,
No setting sun forsake the day;
But light shall beam before unknown
From Him who sits upon the throne,
And joy, and peace, and love shall cheer
The child of wintry realms severe,
Who, ransom'd by his Savior's blood,
Has found a mansion with his God.
March 27, 1814.

NOTICE.

THE Alumni of Yale College are respectfully invited to meet at the State House in New Haven, on Thursday of commencement week, at 9 o'clock, A. M. for

the purpose of conferring together on the practicability and duty of making a res pectable charity foundation for the educa tion of indigent young men, who give promise of future usefulness to their country and the church of Christ. The design is, that funds subscribed for this object shall be held by the Corporation of Yale College, under statutes imposed by the donors; and that an association shall be formed, from among the Alumni in the first instance, for the purpose of making a systematic attempt to procure funds adequate to the object, by volunta ry contributions of the members, and by other fair and honorable methods.

There are two reasons for calling a meeting of the Alumni, which have prompted this notice. 1. All, who have received the benefit of an education at Yale College, are under peculiar obliga tions to promote and extend the usefulness of that highly honored institution. 2. An application to a particular class of the community is more likely to be effectual, than a general application to the public.

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

THE unknown writer of the biographical notice of the Rev. WILLIAM CHAVES, is requested to disclose his name to us, or to certify us in some other way of the accuracy of the notice refered to. This request is made, not because we have any doubts as to the fidelity of the account, but because we must comply with an invaria ble rule, (which we have repeatedly stat ed, though some of our correspondents seem yet unapprized of it,) that in re gard to all biographical notices, and all statements of facts not generally known, we must either be made acquainted with the character of the writer, or be able in some other way to ascertain the accuracy of his statements.

λos will see that we have inserted his first number of Hints to do good. The second may be expected next month. The delay in this and many other cases, must be attributed to our inability to publish ap proved communications, so fast as they come to hand. This fact need not induce any one who holds the pen of a ready wri. ter, to desist from his labors; for it is very desirable, that an editor of a periodical work should always have a considerable number of valuable papers on hand.

No correspondent is warranted to con clude, that his communication is rejected, from the mere fact that it does not appear immediately.

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ON THE EDUCATION OF CHIL

DREN.

COMPLAINT is very frequently made, that habits of obedience and decorous behavior are, at the present day, less observable in children than they were in the days of our fathers. Allow ance should be made, no doubt, for the veneration which we are apt to pay to things which are past, the best side of which is perhaps retained in recollection, and the worst forgotten; but still I am inclined to think, that we, who are now on the stage, have greatly relaxed, in respect of education, from the judicious precision of our ancestors. The dread of being austere has carried us very far towards the opposite extreme. Lest we should be too rigid, we have become too remiss. It is the fashion of the times to be lenient, loose, licentious; and parents, out of mere parental affection, as they would term it, must give their children some portion of that indulgence, which they allow themselves. But it is not so much my intention to expatiate on the extent of the evil, as to point out a few causes of its existence, and to suggest some means for its removal.

VOL. X.

misconduct in children is human depravity; depravity in the parent, and depravity in the child. This ought never to be overlooked, nor forgotten, in any of our systems of education; but should be perpetually kept in view. Corrupt ourselves, we look with a more favorable eye. upon the faults of our children, and feel a reluctance in convey. ing a censure to them, which will recoil upon ourselves. Men cannot readily abhor their own resemblance; they will regard it with tenderness, if not with complacency; they will palliate what they cannot entirely excuse, and but feebly rebuke what they dare not wholly pass over without notice. This is on the supposition that the evil is really, though dimly seen; but this is

not

one half of the mischief, Human depravity renders the subject of it blind, and callous; it makes him insensible of the disorder which is upon him, and deliriously fond of his dangerous condition. It is a mad disease which allows its victim but few lucid intervals; and the glimps. es which he then has at his true situation, serve only, in general, to bring on à recurrence of his disorder. Others, too, languish around him under the

The root and foundation of pressure of the same complaint; VOL. X.

50

but their example does not abate his own malady, but rather adds to its violence. Such being the case, how shall the parent correct the child for a fault, which he is not perceived to possess; or which, if perceived, is lightly estimated, and possibly approved? Even the best of parents have very inadequate conceptions of the extensive evil of sin; and those conceptions, inadequate as they are, are rendered still more vague and feeble, when applied to the tender objects of parental affection. The parent, indeed, sees his child conducting amiss; but then it is only a weakness deserving commiseration, rather than censure; a momentary impulse which could not be avoided, and which will readily cease with the occasion which produced it. But this infantile weakness, inconsiderable as it is deemed, soon becomes gigantic, and bids defiance to the puny efforts which may afterwards be made for its coercion. The truth is, the parent' cannot, or will not, believe, that his child, his offspring, his darling, is naturally dead in trespasses and sins; that his nature is corrupt, and the imagination of his heart is evil, and that only, and continually. He does not consider with what abhorrence God beholds those actions which he himself looks upon with so much indulgence. He does not consider with what abhorrence God beholds his criminal indifference to the growing sinful ness of his offspring; nor the dreadful impiety of treating those sins as trifling imbecilities, which the Most High declares worthy of eternal punishment. Did the parent look upon sin as exceedingly sinful, he would

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not regard with indifference, and even with complacence, those strong indications of it, which every child exhibits, as soon as it begins to express its feelings

at all.

But are children indeed so depraved from the birth; are they naturally so corrupt; that the parent's regarding their little foibles, and occasional sallies of harmless passion without any very strong disapprobation, is to be accounted sinful, and as affording evidence of his own depravity? Such, and similar, questions are often asked, and they amount to pretty strong evidence that the person, who asks them, is himself very far gone in depravity; or at the least has been a very inattentive observer of his children's temper and disposition. We often hear parents calling their children "harmless creatures," "pretty innocents," and other fond and endearing names which figura. tively denote the same thing, such as "little doves," "harmless birds," with a thousand other equivalent appellations; and, I confess, I never hear them without trembling, lest those, their unfledged offspring, should prove birds of evii omen, if not birds of prey, fitted to be taken them. selves at last in the snare of the fowler. Take an infant yet unable to walk, and offend him. With every natural member of annoyance, which he is able to exert, he will give you proof palpable and positive, that he has other attributes than those which are purely innoxious. No sooner does a child begin to take notice of objects so as to be pleased with them, than he cov ets them; and no sooner does he covet, than he endeavors, by all

means in his power, to possess them, not by gentle methods, but by force. Completely selfish he admits no opposite rights, nor claims. His object is to gratify himself; and every thing in opposition to this is assaulted with violence, and the interference of others is treated with turbulent resentment. Persons many times wonder, that infants should come into the world, and continue a great length of time, weak and helpless, while the young of other creatures are either immediately, or within a very short period of time, strong and active. But surely a little reflection would teach us the goodness of God in this particular. Were infants from the birth endowed with strength and activity like the young of some animals, the most fatal effects would follow. Give the child the strength of manhood without abating ought from the violence and perverseness of his temper; who would willingly be his nurse, or his attendants? In such a case, instead of the present mikler measures of restraint, you would be compelled, for your own safety, to resort to. chains and fetters, and to invent new methods of coercion in order to reduce him to obedience. In his paroxisms of rage at some disappointment in his pleasures, would he hesitate, do you think, to take your lite, were you the cause of his exasperation; or, failing in this attempt, would he scruple to lay violent hands on himself, or to do some other act of direful import? Did you never see a child in some fit of pas. sion, who wanted nothing but the power to make such scenes real? And from what can such

a disposition proceed, except from the most deep-rooted depravity? But this, you reply, is

an

extreme case, and cannot prove a generally depraved disposition. Does he not at other times sport and play; is he not pleased with my caresses; is he not attached to those by whom he is fed, and by whom he is fondled? Undoubtedly; and the depravity of his temper is, for this very reason, the more conspicuous. On these very objects of his affection that is. objects of affection, so long as they please him, it is, that on turning the tables, he will vent the utmost of his resentment. Offend him, and all past attachments and good offices are forgotten; his impotence, and not his gratitude, will prove his own restraint, and your protection. Offer him food which he does not want, or when he is sullen; will he be pleased with it, or will he thank you? Caress him when he is angry; will he return you his caresses, before he has gained his object, or until he has forgotten the cause of his anger? When he plays, is it to gratify another, or himself? Will he give up his play things before he is tired of them, in order. that another may play with them? Or will be scruple to demand, and forcibly to take, another's play things, whether the latter has done with them or not? To prove a child's depravity, it cannot be necessary to show, that. he is constantly in a passion, that he is every moment a fury, which nothing can withstand.. Nor can any argument against his depravity be derived from the fact, that he often plays, and. sports, and prattles. Were he

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