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"Who is Blannerhasset? A native of Ireland, a man of letters, who fled from the storms of his own country to find quiet in ours. Possessing himself of a beautiful island in the Ohio, he rears upon it a palace, and deco rates it with every romantic embellishment of fancy. A shrubbery, that Shenstone might have envied, blooms around him; music, that might have charmed Calypso and her nymphs, is his; an extensive library spreads its treasures before him; a philosophical apparatus offers to him all the secrets and mysteries of nature; peace, tranquillity, and innocence, shed their mingled delights around him; and to crown the enchantment of the scene, a wife, who is said to be lovely even beyond her sex, and graced with every accomplishment that can render it irresistible, had blessed him with her love, and made him the father of her children. The evidence would convince you, sir, that this is only a faint picture of the real life. In the midst of all this peace, this innocence, and this tranquillity, this feast of the mind, this pure banquet of the heart, the destroyer comes; he comes to turn this paradise into a hell. A stranger presents him

self. It is Aaron Burr! Introduced to their civilities by the high rank which he had lately held in his country, he soon finds his way to their hearts by the dignity and elegance of his demeanour, the light and beauty of his conversation, and the seductive and fascinating power of his address. The conquest was not a difficult one. Innocence is ever simple and credulous; conscious of no designs of itself, it suspects none in others; it wears no guards before its breast; every door, and portal, and avenue of the heart is thrown open, and all who choose it enter. Such was the state of Eden, when the serpent entered its bowers. The prisoner, in a more engaging form, winding himself into the open and unpractised heart of the unfortunate Blannerhasset, found but little difficulty in changing the native character of that heart and the objects of its affection. By degrees he infuses into it the poison of his own ambition; he breathes intc it the fire of his own courage; a daring and desperate hirst for glory; an ardour panting for all the storms, and

bustle, and hurricane of life. In a short time the whole man is changed, and every object of his former delight relinquished. No more he enjoys the tranquil scene; it has become flat and insipid to his taste: his books are abandoned; his retort and crucible are thrown aside; his shrubbery blooms and breathes its fragrance upon the air in vain; he likes it not: his ear no longer drinks the rich melody of music: it longs for the trumpet's clangour and the cannon's roar; even the prattle of his babes, once so sweet, no longer affects him; and the angel smile of his wife, which hitherto touched his bosom with ecstacy so unspeakable, is now unseen and unfelt. Greater objects have taken possession of his soul: his imagination has been dazzled by visions of diadems, and stars, and garters, and titles of nobility. he has been taught to burn with restless emulation at the names of Cromwell, Cesar, and Bonaparte. His enchanted island is destined soon to relapse into a desert; and in a few months we find the tender and beautiful partner of his bosom, whom he lately permitted not the winds of summer to visit too roughly,'-we find her shivering, at midnight, on the winter banks of the Ohio, and mingling her tears with the torrents that froze as they fell. Yet this unfortunate man, thus deluded from his interest and his happiness; thus seduced from the paths of innocence and peace; thus confounded in the toils which were deliberately spread for him, and overwhelmed by the mastering spirit and genius of another; this man, thus ruined and undone, and made to play a subordinate part in this grand drama of guilt and treason; this man is to be called the principal offender; while he, by whom he was thus plunged and steeped in misery, is comparatively innocent-a mere accessory. Sir, neither the human heart nor the human understanding will bear a perver sion so monstrous and absurd; so shocking to the soul; so revolting to reason."

102. Expedition of Captains Lewis and Clark; to the Pacific Ocean.

In the year 1803, the extensive territory of Louisiana was purchased from the French government, by Presi dent Jefferson, for fifteen millions of dollars. Upon the acquisition of the new territory, the attention of the government of the United States was directed towards exploring the country. Accordingly, Captains Lewis. and Clarke, and a party of 25 men, who were enlisted for the purpose, were sent on this expedition. The party proceeded to the mouth of Wood River, near St. Louis, and on the 14th of May, 1804, with three boats, began the tedious and difficult expedition of exploring the vast wilderness before them. Following the course of the Missouri, they arrived in October at the Mandan villages, where they built a kind of fort and encamped for the winter. In April they left their encampment, and with two large boats and six small canoes proceeded on their expedition. On the 12th of August, 1805, they discovered the sources of the Missouri, the longest river in the known world, if we add the distance after it unites with the Mississippi to the ocean, it being almost 4,500 miles long. After following the course of the river, at the foot of a mountain, it became so diminished in width that one of the men in a fit of enthusiasm, with one foot on each side of the river, thanked God that he had lived to bestride the Missouri. After they went about four miles, they reached a small gap, formed by the high mountains, which recede on each side, leaving room for an Indian road. "From the foot of one of the lowest of these mountains, which rises with an ascent of about half a mile, issues the, remotest water of the Missouri."

After they had quenched their thirst at the fountain, they sat down by the brink of the little rivulet, and felt themselves rewarded for their labour and difficulties, in thus attaining one of the grand objects of their expedition.

Leaving this interesting spot, they, pursuing the Indian path through the interval of the hills, arrived at the top of a ridge, from whence they saw high mountains, partially covered with snow, still to the west of them. The ridge on which they stood formed the dividing line between the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. They followed the descent of the ridge, and at the distance of three quarters of a mile, reached a bold creek of clear, cold water, running to the westward. They stopped to taste, for the first time, the waters of the Columbia.

Having proceeded as far as they could with canoes, they were obliged to leave them and purchase horses of the natives, with which they crossed the Rocky Mountains. In performing this journey they were reduced to great straits, being obliged to kill some of their horses for food. After passing several ranges of steep and rugged mountains, they descended the Columbia River, till it discharges itself into the Pacific Ocean, where they arrived November 14th, 1805. They encamped for the winter, and on the 23d of March, 1806, set out on their return to the United States. After encountering inany dangers, hardships, and privations, they finally arrived at St. Louis, Missouri, on the 23d of September, 1806. The route which the party took from St. Louis to the Pacific Ocean, was a distance of 4,134 miles. In returning, they passed upon a better and more direct. route, shortening the distance to 3,555 miles, from the Pacific to St. Louis.

103. Burning of the Theatre, at Richmond, Va.

The following account of this awful catastrophe is from the Richmond Standard of Dec. 27th, 1811.

Last night the Play House in this city was crowded with an unusual audience. There could not have been less than 600 persons in the house. Just before the conclusion of the play, the scenery caught fire; and in a few

minutes the whole building was wrapt in flames. It is already ascertained that 61 persons were devoured by that most terrific element. The editor of this paper was in the house when the ever-to-be-remembered deplorable accident occurred. He is informed that the scenery took fire in the back part of the house, by raising a chandelier; that the boy who was ordered by some of the players to raise it, stated, that if he did so, the scenery would take fire, when he was commanded in a peremptory) manner to hoist it. The boy obeyed, and the fire was instantly communicated to the scenery. He gave the alarm in the rear of the stage, and requested some of the attendants to cut the cords by which the combustible materials were suspended. The person whose duty it was to perform this business, became panic struck, and sought his own safety. This unfortunately happened at a time when one of the performers was playing near the orchestra, and the greatest part of the stage, with its horrid danger, was obscured from the audience by a curtain. The flames spread with almost the rapidity of lightning; and the fire falling from the ceiling upon the performer, was the first notice which the people had of their danger. Even then many supposed it to be part of the play, and were for a little time restrained from flight by a cry from the stage, that there was no danger. The performers and their attendants in vain endeavoured to tear down the scenery. The fire flashed in every part of the house with a rapidity horrible and astonishing. No person, who was not present, can form any idea of this unexampled scene of human distress. The editor being not far from the door, was among the first to escape. No words can express his horror, when, on turning round, he discovered the whole building to be in flames. There was but one door for the greatest part of the audience to pass. Men, women, and children, were pressing upon each other, while the flames were seizing upon those behind. The editor went to the different windows, which were very high, and implored his fellow-creatures to save their lives by jumping out of them. Those nearest the windows, ignorant of their danger, were afraid to leap down,

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