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"UBI MEL,

IBI MUSCA.”

No. 14-NEW SERIES.]

SATURDAY, APRIL 6.

[TWOPENCE.

Every purchaser of this number of "THE FLY," is entitled to an exquisitely-executed Lithographic PRINT, "The Appointed Hour," which is presented gratuitously.—[A similar print with every number.]

THE FLY'S PICTURE-GALLERY.

(No. XIV.-New Series.)
THE APPOINTED HOUR!
Sweet solemn Venice! o'er thee fade
Eve's latest hues of glory,
While by yon shadowy colonnade,
Near Balbi's palace hoary,

A youth, with passion-kindled lip,
And taste's harmonious hand,
Must still devoted vigil keep
Invoking beauty bland.

"Appear, my ladye love, appear-
Look from thy latticed bower,

And bless his sight who watches here
The livelong twilight hour.

The stars are out, and why shouldst thou,
My peerless one, delay

To flash upon me from thy brow

A far diviner ray

?

"But others gaze upon thee now,
And drink thy glorious smile,
And make thy spirit mindless how
Mine maddens here the while.
Ah! truant, why should their dull praise
My sacred hour consume?

Look forth, and with one gracious gaze
Make gladness of my gloom.

"Lo! jealous eye and ear are far,
And fast the evening flies;

Then loiter not, thou lovely star,
Young moon of beauty rise.

Or is thy faith, like flower spray, broke,
And".

And ere his murderer's skulking shade
Has left the moonbeam bare,
Damp in the soiling dust are laid

Those curls of chestnut hair.

Forth from her bower the maiden wended,
At love's victorious call,
Where broad the marble steps descended
Upon the blue canal.

A sudden brightness with her bringing,
As though from out the main ;
Its light the vanished day was flinging
Through sunset's gate again.

"By yonder shaft he leans to hide,

The proud impatient boy-
I'll steal upon his song!" she cried,
In girlhood's rosy joy.
And glancing on like cushat fleet,

She gain'd the sad moonshine:
By Heaven, she stumbles! and her feet
Are plashing-not in wine.

One look-but come, we'll leave her there,
To madness and the moon;

A sweet lute shivered by despair,
With every string in tune.
A glorious bud from vernal earth,
Snapt as its bloom was blown-
A grace in beauty's bounding mirth,
Struck instantly to stone!

VISIT TO THE FALLS OF MISSOURI.

As Captains Lewis and Clark approached the mountains, and had got considerably beyond the walls already described at the meGod! that leaping start! ridian nearly of 110°, and the parallel of about Keen, sudden, home-the poniard's stroke, 47° 20', the same almost as that of the station Has split his very heart.

While on the air his song yet gushes,
Life's stifled fountain stops;
Dead on the rebeck that he crushes,
The young Battista drops.

of Mandans, there was a bifurcation of the river, which threw them into considerable doubt as to which was the true Missouri, and the course which it behoved them to pursue. The northernmost possessed most strongly the characters of that river, and the men seemed

John Cunningham, Printer, Crown-court, Fleet-street.

all to entertain no doubt that it was the stream which they ought to follow.

The commanders of the expedition, however, did not decide, till after they had reconnoitred the country from the higher grounds, and then determined to follow the southern branch. On the 11th of June, 1806, Captain Lewis set out on foot with four men, in order to explore this river. They proceeded till the 13th, when, finding that the river bore considerably to the south, fearing that they were in an error, they changed their course, and proceeded across the plain.

In this direction Captain Lewis had gone about two miles, when his ears were saluted with the agreeable sound of a fall of water, and as he advanced, a spray, which seemed driven by the high south-west wind, rose above the plain like a column of smoke, and vanished in an instant. Towards this point he directed his steps; and the noise increasing as he approached, soon became too tremendous to be mistaken for any thing but the great falls of the Missouri.

Having travelled seven miles after hearing the sound, he reached the falls about twelve o'clock. The hills, as he approached, were difficult of access, and about two hundred feet high. Down these he hurried with impatience, and seating himself on some rocks under the centre of the falls, he enjoyed the sublime spectacle of this stupendous contract, which, since the creation, had been lavishing its magnificence on the desert.

These falls extend, in all, over a distance of nearly twelve miles; and the medium breadth of the river varies from three hundred to six hundred yards. The principal fall is near the lower extremity, and is upwards of eighty feet perpendicular. The river is here nearly three hundred yards wide, with perpendicular cliffs on each side, not less than one hundred feet high. For ninety or one hundred yards from the left cliff, the water falls in one smooth

even sheet, over a precipice at least eighty feet high. The remaining part of the river precipitates itself also with great rapidity; but being received, as it falls, by irregular and projecting rocks, forms a splendid prospect of white foam, two hundred yards in length, and eighty in perpendicular elevation.

The spray is dissipated in a thousand shapes, flying up in high columns, and collecting into large masses, which the sun adorns with all the colouring of the rainbow. The fall just described must be one of the most magnificent and picturesque that is any where to be found. It has often been disputed whether a cataract, in which the water falls in one sheet, or one where it is dashed irregularly among the rocks, is the finer object. It was reserved for the Missouri to resolve this doubt, by exhibiting both at once in the greatest magnificence. There is another cascade, of about fortyseven feet, higher up the river, and the last of all is twenty-six feet; but the succession of inferior falls, and of rapids of very great declivity, is astonishingly great; so that, from the first to the last, the whole descent of the river is three hundred and eighty-four feet. "Just below the falls," says Captain Lewis, "is a little island in the river, well covered with timber. Here, on a cotton-wood tree, an eagle had fixed her nest, and seemed the undisputed mistress of a spot, to invade which neither man nor beast could venture across the gulf that surrounds it; while it is further secured by the mist that rises from the falls. This solitary bird has not escaped the observation of the Indians, who made the eagle's nest a part of their description of the falls which they gave us, and which proves now to be correct in almost every particular, except that they did not do justice to their height."

The river above the falls is quite unruffled and smooth, with numerous herds of buffaloes feeding on the plains around it. These plains open out on both sides, so that it is not improbable that they mark the bottom of an ancient lake, the outlet of which the river is still in the act of cutting down, and will require many ages to accomplish its work, or to reduce the whole to a moderate and uniform declivity. The eagle may then be dispossessed of her ancient and solitary domain.

THE ADVANTAGES OF A TASTE FOR NATURAL HISTORY.

When a young person, who has enjoyed the benefit of a liberal education, instead of leading a life of indolence, dissipation, or vice, employs himself in studying the marks of infinite wisdom and goodness which are manifested in every part of the visible creation, we know not which we ought most to congratulate-the public, or the individual. Selftaught naturalists are often found to make no little progress in knowledge, and to strike out many new lights, by the mere aid of original genius and patient application. But the welleducated youth engages in these pursuits with peculiar advantage. He takes more comprehensive views, is able to consult a greater variety of authors, and, from the early habits of his mind, is more accurate and more me

"Et isti

Errori nomen virtus posuisset honestum."
HORACE.

(For the FLY.)
(Continued from page 51.)

One afternoon, in company with some friends, while walking on the banks of the Seine, he picked up a flint, on which he thought he perceived some new properties: at the moment a neighbouring clock struck the hour, M. M-, desiring to compare the time, drew out his watch, and having attentively looked at it, he returned the stone into his fob, and threw the watch into the water. He never found out his mistake until night, on going to bed. Another time, on hearing one of the scholars his lesson, he had to multiply the two numbers 53 and 59, the one by the other. He hesitated a moment, and then called out,

thodical in all his investigations. The world THE MISADVENTURES OF A SAVANT. at large, therefore, cannot fail to be benefited by his labours; and the value of the enjoyments, which at the same time he secures to himself, is beyond all calculation. No tedious vacant hour ever makes him wish for he knows not what- complain, he knows not why. Never does a restless impatience at having nothing to do compel him to seek a momentary stimulus to his dormant powers in the tumultuous pleasures of the intoxicating cup, or the agitating suspense of a game of chance. Whether he be at home or abroad, in every different clime, and in every season of the year, universal nature is before him, and invites him to a banquet richly replenished with whatever can invigorate his understanding, or gratify his mental taste. The earth on which he treads, the air in which he moves, the sea along the margin of which he walks, all teem with objects to keep his attention perpetually awake, excite him to healthful activity, and charm him with an ever-varying succession of the beautiful, the wonderful, the useful, and the new. And if, in conformity with the direct tendency of such occupations, he rises from the creature to the Creator, and considers the duties which naturally result from his own situation and rank in this vast system of being, he will derive as much satisfaction from the anticipation of the future, as from the experience of the present, and the recollection of the past. The mind of the pious naturalist is always cheerful, always animated with the noblest and most benign feelings. Every repeated observation, every unexpected discovery, directs his thoughts to the great Source of all order, and all good; and harmonises all his faculties with the general voice of

nature.

The men

Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself
Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day,
With his conceptions; act upon his plan,
And form to his the relish of their souls."

THE MOTHER TO HER CHILD.

Dearest infant, smile again,

There's a charm in that sweet eye, Europe's wealth might strive in vain From thy mother's arms to buy. What to her the purest pearl,

Sent from ocean's fairy cave? So you're still her blue-eyed girl, Ocean's pearls let others have. On thy cheek the rose of Spring

Blushes bright and fair bestows; Lilies o'er thy forehead fling

All their wealth of floral snows.

True, the time may come when each
Rose and lily fade away;
Grief and care e'en thee may reach,

Ere beams forth life's summer day.

Still while green its vernal bower,

Prematurely why complain; Pleasure gilds the present hour, Dearest infant smile again,

"Three times nine make nineteen-no, no,

I am wrong; it makes twenty-two!" and yet M. M- was one of the clearest accountants of his day.

On one occasion he had invited a party of friends to dinner; it was the anniversary of Emma's birth-day. He entirely forgot the invitations he had sent out, and at an early hour he went with his daughter into the country; so, when the guests arrived at his house, they found the door locked, and nobody there. Were I to tell you of all the mischances that befel our unlucky savant, I should never end. But I have now arrived at that day which of all others may be called perhaps the most disastrous of his life. The Head Master of the University, M. de Fontanes, had assembled at his house all the academical corps. M. M-, member of the Academy of Sciences, could not be absent from this assembly. He was, therefore, punctual to the time appointed. He had for the occasion selected his grand costume, black coat brodé de palmes vertes; his dress sword, moreover, was not forgotten. Arrived at the drawing-room of M. de Fontanes, M. M-perceived that he was the only one that had thought fit to keep on his sword. His natural timidity was much alarmed at this very awkward and singular circumstance, which had drawn upon him all the eyes of the company. He began now to think of some way of disengaging himself from this most unlucky weapon. By dint of thought, and looking about for a place of refuge for his sword, he determined on lodging it under the cushion of the large sofa. Nothing could be better imagined. In the evening, however, Madame de Fontanes came to do the honours of the drawing room, and went and seated herself upon the sofa. The circle formed around her. The company was brilliant and

animated.

M. M-, however, hardly uttered

a word. He was evidently a prey to some sudden abstraction; nobody for a moment suspected the cause-he was thinking of his sword. At eleven o'clock the company began to break up. M. M- still kept his seat. M. de Fontanes had requested and obtained permission to retire to his own room. His lady, therefore, could not well leave the saloon so

long as any of the guests remained. She strove in the politest way possible to make M. M- understand that it was now time to follow the example of the rest of the company. To this he made no answer. Fatigued, ennuyeć, probably also, Madame de Fontanes finished by going to sleep. M. M- thought the moment favourable for regaining his sword. Hn accordingly stretched out his arm softly, and slipped it under the bolster. He got to the scabbard, he touched it; at last he arrived at the handle, and grasped it firmly; and now thought he had brought his troublesome adventure to an end. Alas! and death to her hopes. The shock that he gave the sofa in drawing towards him the fatal sword awakened Madame de Fontanes. M. M-, surprised and ashamed, recovered his position, having in his hand the naked blade only, which had slid out of the sheath. At sight of this singular figure, and the drawn sword, Madame de Fontanes uttered a piercing

shriek. M. de Foutanes ran to his wife's assistance. The domestics seized hold of M.

A short time since half Paris was diverted
by one of those laughable traits attendant
upon his habitual distractions. He went out
coiffed in Emma's new rose-coloured hat,
which he had mistook for his own. Happily,
it was le mardi gras-the last day of the car-
nival. What could Emma have thought of
this? Emma was occupied in seeing the
masks pass.

There is no human mind exempt from dis-
tractions of some kind or other let us look
well to ourselves, and bear in mind the maxim
of our fathers, Il faut faire ce qu'on fait-Let
us strive to do well what we are pledged to
perform.
F. E.

SINGULAR ADVENTURE.*

Colter came to St. Louis in May, 1810, in Missouri, a distance of three thousand miles, a small canoe, from the head waters of the which he traversed in thirty days. I saw him

him, and he cried out, "Colter, I am wounded!" Colter remonstrated with him on the folly of attempting to escape, and urged him to come ashore. Instead of complying, he instantly levelled his rifle at the Indian, and shot him dead on the spot.

This conduct, situated as he was, may appear to have been an act of madness, but it was doubtless the effect of sudden but sound reasoning; for, if taken alive, he must have expected to be tortured to death, according to their custom. He was instantly pierced with arrows so numerous, that, to use Colter's words, "he was made a riddle of." They now seized Colter, stripped him entirely naked, and began to consult on the manner in which he should be put to death. They were at first inclined to set him up as a mark to shoot at, the shoulder, asked him if he could run fast. but the chief interfered, and seizing him by

M-, accusing him at the same time of having count of his adventures, after he had separated dian customs; he knew that he had now to

on his arrival, and received from him an ac-
from Lewis and Clarke's party; one of these,
for its singularity, I shall relate.

the Kee-katso or Crow Indians, had in a corColter, who had been some time amongst siderable degree acquired the Blackfoot language, and was also well acquainted with Inrun for his life, with the dreadful odds of five Indians: he therefore cunningly replied that or six hundred against him, and those armed he was a very bad runner, although he was considered by the hunters as remarkably swift. The chief now commanded the party to remain stationary, and led Colter out on the sounded in the ears of poor Colter, who, urged could." At this instant the horrid war-whoop leased him, bidding him "save himself if he with the hope of preserving life, ran with a

of his wits by this awkward dilemma, he made the immense tract of country from St. Louis prairie three or four hundred yards, and re

is escape with the utmost precipitation, and
an off to his house. Arrived there, he en-
ered, hurried up stairs, and in his confusion,
nistaking a flight, he opens a door, proceeds,
1ot knowing whither he is going, and without aware of the hostility of the Blackfoot Indians, speed at which himself was surprised.

attempted the life of Madame de Fontanes,
and it was not till a long half hour had elapsed On the arrival of the party at the head
that he succeeded in explaining the fact, waters of the Missouri, Colter, observing an
midst a volley of threats and imprecations
avishly heaped upon him, which were sud-appearance of abundance of beaver being
lenly changed into vociferous mirth, and loud there, got permission to remain and hunt for
some time, which he did in company with a
bursts of laughter. Terrified and almost out
man of the name of Dixon, who had traversed
after, he separated from Dixon, and trapped
to the head waters of the Missouri alone. Soon
in company with a hunter named Potts; and,
one of whom had been killed by Lewis, they
set their traps at night, and took them up
during the day.

peaking a word: he sees a bed, undresses
He proceeded towards the Jefferson Fork,
imself (there being no one to stop him) and
having to traverse a plain six miles in breadth,
urns in in all haste, as if seeking shelter early in the morning, remaining concealed abounding with the prickly pear, on which he

rom himself and the whole world besides. It

morning, in a creek about six miles from that
They were examining their traps early one
branch of the Missouri called Jefferson's Fork,
and were ascending in a canoe, when they
suddenly heard a great noise, resembling the
trampling of animals, but they could not as-

was every instant treading with his naked feet. he ventured to look over his shoulder, when He ran nearly half way across the plain before he perceived that the Indians were very much scattered, and that he had gained ground to a considerable distance from the main body;

was the bed of a good old lady quietly resting here, and who, awoke in a fright, was now in er turn calling loudly for help. Emma, who was waiting for her father, alarmed by the rles of their lodger, repaired instantly to the pot, and after some time made her father certain the fact, as the high perpendicular / but one Indian, who carried a spear, was much sten to reason, and succeeded at length in banks on each side of the river impeded their before all the rest, and not more than one hunaking him away to his room, though scarcely alf dressed, amidst the taunts and derisions f the whole house, whom the noise and disurbance had brought together. Nor was it

view. Colter immediately pronounced it to
be occasioned by Indians, and advised an in-
stant retreat, but was accused of cowardice by

dred yards from him.

A faint gleam of hope now cheered the the belief that escape was within the bounds heart of Colter; he derived confidence from

ill next day that Emma learnt from her father/Potts, who insisted that the noise was caused of possibility; but that confidence was nearly

he cause of all the uproar that had taken lace the night before.

M. M-'s head has been a good deal disurbed by these severe and excessive commoons. Three days afterwards, while experimentally engaged at the faculty of sciences, e had before him two glasses, one containing preparation of sulphuric acid (oil of vitriol), me other was filled with sugar and water: The unhappy man mistook the liquids, and ishing to refresh himself drank off at a

raught the sulphuric acid. He fell senseless the floor. Imagine poor Emma's feelings hen they brought in her father, whom they thought to be dying? Nevertheless, the cident was not fatal, nor yet attended with ad consequences: M. M- being at this day perfect health.

by buffaloes, and they proceeded on.

In a few minutes afterwards their doubts

their appearance on both sides of the creek, to
were removed by a party of Indians making
the amount of five or six hundred, who beck-
oned them to come ashore. As retreat was
now impossible, Colter turned the head of the
canoe; and, at the moment of his touching,
an Indian seized the rifle belonging to Potts;
but Colter, who was a remarkably strong man,
immediately retook it, and handed it to Potts,
who remained in the canoe, and on receiving
it pushed off into the river. He had scarcely
quitted the shore, when an arrow was shot at

fatal to him; for he exerted himself to such a

body. He had now arrived within a mile of degree that the blood gushed from his nostrils, and soon almost covered the fore part of his the river, when he distinctly heard the appaling sound of footsteps behind him, and every instant expected to feel the spear of his pursuer. Again he turned his head, and saw the savage not twenty yards from him.

Determined, if possible, to avoid the expected blow, he suddenly stopped, turned round, and spread out his arms. The Indian, surprised by the suddenness of the action, and perhaps by the bloody appearance of Colter, also attempted to stop, but, exhausted with Colter, is taken from Bandbury's Travels in the in-running, he fell whilst endeavouring to throw terior of North America; a publication, says M Diar- his spear, which stuck in the ground, and broke. Colter instantly snatched up the

This account of a perilous adventure of John

mid, of great merit and interest.

pointed part, with which he pinned him to the earth, and then continued his flight. The foremost of the Indians, on arriving at the place, stopped till others came up to join them, when they set up a hideous yell. Every moment of this time was improved by Colter, who, although fainting and exhausted, succeeded in gaining the skirting of the Cottontree wood, on the borders of the Fork, through which he ran and plunged into the river. Fortunately for him, a little below this place was an island, against the upper part of which a raft of drift timber had lodged. He dived under the raft, and, after several efforts, got his head above water amongst the trunks of trees, covered over with smaller wood to the depth of several feet. Scarcely had he rescued himself, when the Indians arrived on the river screeching and yelling, as Colter expressed it, like so many devils." They were frequently on the raft during the day, and were seen through the chinks by Colter, who was congratulating himself on his escape, until the idea arose that they might set the raft on fire. In horrible suspense he remained until night, when, hearing no more of the Indians, he dived under the raft, and swam silently down the river to a considerable distance, where he landed, and travelled all night.

ments are added to their most ordinary per-
ceptions! The mind awakening, as if from a
trance, to a new existence, becomes habituated
to the most interesting aspects of life and of
nature; the intellectual eye "is purged of its
film;" and things the most familiar and un-
noticed disclose charms invisible before.
The same objects and events which were
lately beheld with indifference, occupy now
all the powers and capacities of the soul: the
contrast between the present and the past
serving only to enhance and to endear so un-
looked for an acquisition. What Gray has so
finely said of the pleasures of vicissitude, con-
veys but a faint image of what is experienced
by the man, who, after having lost in vulgar
occupations and vulgar amusements his earli-
est and most precious years, is thus introduced
at last to a new heaven and a new earth :-
"The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise."

The effects of foreign travel have been often remarked, not only in rousing the curiosity of the traveller while abroad, but in correcting, after his return, whatever habits of inattention he had contracted to the institutions and manners among which he was bred. It is in a way somewhat analogous that our occasional Although happy in having escaped from the excursions into the regions of imagination inIndians, his situation was still dreadful: he crease our interest in those familiar realities, was completely naked, under a burning sun- from which the stores of imagination are borthe soles of his feet were entirely filled with rowed. We learn insensibly to view nature the thorns of the prickly pear-he was hun- with the eye of the painter and the poet, and gry, and had no means of killing game, al- to seize those "happy attitudes of things" though he saw abundance around him, and which their taste at first selected; while, enwas at least seven days' journey from Lisa's riched with the accumulations of ages, and with Fort, on the Big-horn branch of the Yellow"the spoils of time," we unconsciously comStone river. These were circumstances under bine with what we see all that we know, and which almost any man but an American hunter all that we feel; and sublime the organical would have despaired. In seven days, how-beauties of the material world, by blending ever, during which he subsisted upon a root with them the inexhaustible delights of the much esteemed by the Indians of the Missouri, heart and of the fancy.

he arrived at the Fort.

THE PLEASURES OF A CULTIVATED

IMAGINATION.

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The attention of young persons may be seduced, by well-selected works of fiction, from the present objects of the senses, and the thoughts accustomed to dwell on the past, the distant, or the future; and in the same proportion in which this effect is, in any instance, accomplished, "the man," as Dr. Johnson has justly remarked, “is exalted in the scale of intellectual being." The tale of fiction will probably be soon laid aside with the toys and rattles of infancy; but the habits which it has contributed to fix, and the powers which it has brought into a state of activity, will remain with the possessor, permanent and inestimable treasures, to his latest hour.

Price of each Portrait, 3d.; or proof impressions on fine paper, imperial size, for framing, 6d. The following portraits will appear in rapid succession:

Messrs. John Frost, Feargus O'Connor, Thomas Attwood, Fielden, J. R. Stephens, R. Oastler,

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A. Carlile, publisher, Water-lane, Fleet-street, London; and Thomas Paine Carlile, 220, Deansgate, Manchester.

THE REV. J. R. STEPHENS.
Now Publishing,

N ACCURATE PORTRAIT of this

A Friend of the People, encircled in a wreath of
Myrtle and Laurel, and supported by the Labouring
Classes bearing Emblems of their Strength.
the Likeness and the elegance of the design, has been
received by the publisher :-

***The following note, attesting the accuracy of

"Sir, I beg to acknowledge the receipt of a copy of the very spirited lithographic drawing you have published. The Likeness I consider more correct than the Engraved one! You have done me much honour in deeming me worthy of such supporters as you have placed by my side-the Youth of England, both the fair and the brave.

"Though I have done nothing to entitle me to wear the laurels you have placed around and over me, I hope always-however feeble my efforts to aspire to the character of The People's Friend,' and beg to subscribe myself, Sir, "Your obedient, humble servant, "JOSEPH RAYNER STEPHENS. "Dukinfield, March 21, 1839." Price only Twopence; or on Imperial Proof Paper for Framing, Sixpence. Published by Thomas Paine Carlile, 220, Deansgate, Manchester; and Alfred Carlile, Water-lane, Fleet-street, London.

To ensure getting an accurate portrait, order the one published by T. P. and A. C. it is the cheapest, and-as the Rev. gentleman himself war

rants-the best!

NOW PUBLISHING,
At Cobbett's Register Office, 11, Bolt-court, Fleet-
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LEGACY ΤΟ LABOURERS.

NO THE SUBSCRIBERS TO THE THE Six Letters. Addressed to the Working

T

"FLY" in MANCHESTER AND ITS VICINITY.

People of England. With a Dedication to Sir R.
Peel, Bart. By W. COBBETT, M. P. for Oldham.

CONTENTS.

Dedication to Sir Robert Peel; stating the reasɔns for writing the book, and also the reasons for dedicating it to him.

In consequence of the great demand for, and the high value set upon, the beautiful plates given with this paper, and in order to their better display and preservation, T. CARLILE begs to inform the Public he has made a quantity of ROSEWOOD FRAMES (1 inch), which he can offer complete, Letter 1. How came some men to have a greater with glass and gilt moulding, altogether finished in a first-rate style, at the low price of 3s., being onethird less than is usually charged by frame-makers.

Observe, T. Carlile, 220, Deansgate, nearly facing
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Nor is it to the young alone that these observations are to be exclusively applied. Instances have frequently occurred of indivi-A duals in whom the power of imagination has, at a more advanced period of life, been found susceptible of culture to a wonderful degree. In such men, what an accession is gained to their most refined pleasures! What enchant

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right to parcels of land than other men have to the same land?

2. What right have English landlords to the lands? How came they in possession of them? Of what nature is their title?

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4. Have they dominion in their lands? or da they lawfully possess only the use of them? Can they do what they like with their lands! 5. Can they use them so as to drive the na. tives from them?

6. Can they use them so as to cause the na
tives to perish of hunger or of cold?
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