sessions. His riches are the bounty of knowledge, his joys are those which wealth cannot purchase. He contemplates Nature in her endless forms, and finds companions, where men of different pursuits would experience the deepest solitude." Those phantoms which genius produces, and taste embellishes, had a powerful influence over the imagination of Mr. Linn. External objects were habitually viewed by him through a poetical medium, and seldom through any other. Their attractions, in his eyes, and their merit, consisted almost wholly in their power to inspire emotion, and exalt the fancy. The deductions of pure science, whether mathematical, physical, or moral, he held in very slender estimation: their simplicity was to him naked and insipid, dreary and cold.His natural temper, and all his habits of meditation, eminently fitted him for a poet; the subject of this work had been familiar to his earliest conceptions; and he expatiated in this element as in one most congenial to his nature. After describing genius, and fixing on invention as its most suitable criterion, he proceeds to show the alliance between genius and fancy, judgment and sympathy.He then, in a rapid manner, describes the progress of genius, and illustrates the independence of rules, which it sometimes manifests, by the example of Shakspeare, Ossian, Ariosto, and Burns. The influence of culture on genius naturally calls to the poet's mind the image of Edwin, and the various forms of excellence which genius is qualified to uphold, leads him into an enumeration of celebrated names, in various departments of prose and verse. Some of the moral stimulants and effects of genius are next displayed; narrative is called in to the aid of precept, and the poem closes with a concise view of the progress of genius in different countries; Egypt, Greece, Italy, Britain, and America. To his native country the poct is patriotically partial, and not only predicts her future eminence in literature, but deems the progress she has already made by no means contemptible. The merit of this performance has received the best testimony of which merit of this kind is susceptible, in the approbation of the public. The work, in a few months after its first appearance, demanded a new edition, and it has been published in a very splendid style in Europe. Several smaller pieces were published in the same volume with this poem, some of which have merit considerably above mediocrity, and manifest a genius in the writer which only wanted the habits of reflection and revision to entitle him to a high rank in the fraternity of poets. Mr. Linn's temperament was sanguine, and his health at all times extremely variable. From his earliest infancy, he was liable to fits of severe indisposition, which, to one of his peculiar temper, were of far more importance than they would have proved to another. There was a powerful sympathy between his body and mind. All disorders in the former produced confusion and despondency in the latter. He was always prone to portend an unfavourable issue to his disease, and being deeply impressed with the belief that he was doomed to an early grave, every sickness was considered as the messenger appointed to fulfil his destiny. It was not, however, till the year 1802 that his constitution received any lasting or material injury. In the summer of this year, he set out on a journey to New York. The weather being extremely hot, and the chaise affording no effectual protection from the rays of a burning sun, he was suddenly thrown into a swoon, which was followed by an ardent fever. This accident occurred near Woodbridge, in New Jersey, and he was carried from the road, by some passengers, to the hospitable roof of Dr. Rowe, a clergyman of that place, From this attack he recovered sufficiently in a few days, to enable him to return home; but from that period to his death, every day's experience evinced that 179 this accident had done his constitution an irreparable mischief. His nervous system appeared, for some time, to have been chiefly affected, and in a way particularly distressful and deplorable, since it interfered with his duty as a preacher. In attempting to speak, his brain was frequently seized with a torpor and dizziness, which made it difficult for him to keep himself from falling. The same affection sometimes attended him while walking or sitting, Its visits were capricious and uncertain. It would sometimes afford him a respite of days or weeks. Its returns were sudden and unlooked for, and it always brought in its train a heavy dejection of mind, and equally unfitted him for the performance of his public duties, and for obtaining relief from any solitary occupation or social amusement. No one could struggle with his infirmity more strenuously than Mr. Linn. His family can bear witness to his efforts to fulfil his public duties, notwithstanding this secret enemy. So successful were these efforts, that he often preached with his usual energy and eloquence, when nothing but the rails of his pulpit supported him, and when a deadly sickness pervaded his whole frame. That his powers of reasoning and reflection were unimpaired by this accident, he soon afforded an incontestible proof, in the spirit with which he carried on a short controversy, during this year, with Dr. Priestley. Dr. Priestley, who acquired so much celebrity in Europe, had, a few years before this, taken up his abode in the United States. His zeal for knowledge was by no means diminished by the circumstances which occasioned his exile, and his attachment to the controversial mode of advancing knowledge was as ardent as ever.His numerous publications, however, during the early years of his residence among us, were chiefly confined to politics and chemistry. His moral and theological effusions failed to waken the spirit of controversy, till the publication of a short treatise on the merits of Socrates, in the year 1802. In this performance, Dr. Priestley drew a comparison between Jesus Christ and Socrates, in which the former was degraded, agreeably to the Socinian system, to the level of mere humanity, while the merits of the latter were exalted to a higher pitch than, in the opinion of Mr. Linn, strict justice allowed. This comparison was instituted between the two persons, in relation to their moral qualities only, and Priestley's design was to maintain the superiority of Jesus, even admitting the most favourable suppositions that have been formed with regard to the character of Socrates, and the least favourable ones with regard to Christ. In both these points, however, he was deemed by some to be highly blameable, inasmuch as he admit ted and argued upon suppositions erroneous and unjust in both cases. The great fame and veteran skill of Priestley, and the consciousness of his own youth and inexperience, did not intimidate Mr. Linn from stepping forth in a cause in which religion and morality were deeply interested. Those points in the conduct of the Athenian sage, which had been hastily admitted as authentic by Dr. Priestley, underwent an impartial and rigid scrutiny from his young opponent; the dreams of traditional credulity were subjected to a critical investigation; and while the character of Socrates was degraded to its proper point in the scale, the transcendent merits of Christ, both in his human and divine capacity, were urged with unusual eloquence. The true nature and office of Christ could not fail of coming strongly into view on this occasion, and a second reply, to a second publication of Mr. Linn, was the last and dying effort of Priestley on this sublunary stage, in favour of the Socinian doctrines. The merits of Mr. Linn in this controversy seem to be generally acknowledged, both by the friends and enemies of the cause which he espoused. The latter withheld not their admiration from the knowledge and genius displayed in these productions, and which, while they would do credit to any age, were peculiarly honor-clination than of power. Hence was he continually led able and meritorious in so youthful an advocate. to overtask his own strength, and to hasten, by undue exertions, that event which was to put a final close to his activity. If he has treated his venerable adversary with undue asperity, as some of Dr. Priestley's adherents are disposed to believe, his youth, and the importance of the tenets he supported, will abundantly plead his exeuse with impartial minds. Instead of deserving blame for that degree of warmth which he displayed, he is rather entitled to eminent praise, for preserving his warmth within such rigid limits. Those who are acquainted with the spirit of religious disputes will only be surprised at the moderation which so ardent and impetuous a mind was able to maintain, in so delicate a controversy, and of which it is difficult to find another example. There was no one, however, who regarded these asperities with less indulgence than himself. For Dr. Priestley's attainments in the physical sciences, he entertained a high veneration, and abhorred that spirit of animosity and rancour, with which literary controversies are generally managed. His own conduct in this respect, though so little culpable, gave him regrets, which the death of his opponent contributed to augment. During this period, he likewise indulged himself in putting together the materials of a poem, to which he intended to entrust his future fame, as a poet. The scheme was somewhat of an epic nature, but he did not intend to restrict himself by any technical rules or canons. He merely aspired to produce a narrative in verse, which should possess the qualities which render verse delightful, and make a narrative interesting and instructive. From the beginning of his malady, he entertained serious thoughts of resigning his pastoral office. Whether his own feelings conveyed more deadly intimations than his friends imagined, or whether his temper was peculiarly disposed to despondency and fear, he predicted nothing from these symptoms but lasting infirmity. The exercises of the pulpit were peculiarly unfavourable to his disease. In a different calling, he imagined that his health would be less endangered. Some calling, that might perhaps prove far more arduous, and would certainly be much less agreeable, he was yet extremely desirous of embracing, provided it was such as his peculiar constitution was fitted to endure: but tho' no such path presented itself to his view, yet so exqui. sitely painful was it to him to receive a recompense for duties that he was unable to perform, that very often, during the two last years of his life had he formed the resolution of absolutely resigning his call. As often as these resolutions were formed, they were shaken, for a time, by the admonitions and counsels of his friends. They endeavoured to call back to his bosom that hope which had deserted it; they made light of the symptoms he complained of; they persuaded him that his infirmities were transient; that time alone would dissipate them; or, at least, that some change of regimen, some rural excursion, or a larger portion of exercise than ordinary, would be sufficient to restore him. The poem which he left behind him, and which his They insisted on the unreasonableness of despairing of friends have deemed it but justice to his memory to pub- his recovery, before a trial had been made of the proper lish, is, in some respects, sufficiently entire for the press, remedies. His physicians contributed to inspire him but is, in fact, only a fragment of a plan, copious and with the same confidence. By these means was hope comprehensive. It is contained in the present volume, occasionally revived in his heart. He consented to try and will come before the public tribunal with many si- the remedies prescribed to him; he obtained a respite lent apologies for its defects. The writer is disabled from church service, and made several journies in pur from revising and correcting his own labours, and sa- suit of health: but all these experiments were fruitless. cred modesty forbids a surviving friend to prune or to They afforded him a brief and precarious respite from retrench, without any warrant but his own frail judg-pain, and he eagerly returned to the pulpit. But his ment. It may be said to be, like its author, called to its feelings quickly warned him that his hopes were fallaaccount burthened with those imperfections, which a cious: his infirmities were sure to return upon him with longer preparation and probation might have lessened redoubled force; despondency invaded him anew; he or removed. again embraced the resolution of resigning his post, from which he was again dissuaded with difficulty greater than before. To those early and memorable proofs of literary excellence, Mr. Linn was indebted for the honour of the degree of doctor in divinity, conferred upon him about this time, by the university of Pennsylvania. This honor, never before, probably, conferred upon so young a man, was decreed with a zealous unanimity. It may be deemed the spontaneous reward of merit, since, so far from being sought for or claimed by Mr. Linn, neither he nor his familiar friends entertained the least suspicion of the design, before it was ca ried into execution. These mental struggles and vicissitudes were alone sufficient to have destroyed a much more robust constitution than his. The gloom which hovered over his mind became deeper and more settled. A respite from pain or weakness was not sufficient to dispel it, even for a time; and though his anxieties were more keen at one time than another, long was the period during which he was an utter stranger to joy. If he took up a book, over His literary performances were the fruits of those in- which the poet's fancy and the poet's numbers had shed tervals which his professional duty, and the disease which the most vivid hues and the richest harmony, and which, had rooted itself in his constitution, had afforded him. in former days, had been a fountain of delight, he found These intervals of health and tranquility became gradu- the spell at an end; it had lost its power to beguile his ally fewer and shorter. Besides occasional indisposi-heart of its cares, or impart the smallest relief to his aptions, by which he was visited more frequently than for- prehension. Did he walk forth into the fields, and surmerly, those sensations became more and more perma- vey Nature in her fairest forms, the scene merely connent, which always appeared to his imagination unerring jured up a mournful contrast between the pleasures indications of approaching death. To a mind formed which the landscape once imparted, and its present molike his, these symptoms had been productive of a drea- notony and dreariness. In fine, there is little doubt that ry melancholy, had their effects been confined wholly to his latent malady infected the springs of life much less his own person, but, with him, they received bitter ag- rapidly by its own direct force, than indirectly by its ingravation from reflections on the helpless state in which fluence in lowering his spirits. an untimely death would leave his family. No one ever entertained a more lively sense of the duty which his profession had imposed upon him, nor more ardent wishes to be useful to those around him. The voice of blame, even when unmerited, shot the keenest pangs into his soul. The peculiar nature of his feelings, of which there was no external or visible tokens, agonized him with the terror, that any failure of parochial duty might be imputed rather to defect of in These feelings cannot be explained by admitting the influence of constitution. Few men had less reason to dread death, on account of that existence which follows it. If a blameless life and enlightened piety could smooth the path to the grave, or if death were indebted for its terrors merely to the apprehension of its consequences in another mode of existence, few men had less reason than Mr. Linn to view it with anxiety. But such is the physical constitution of most men, that their feelings on this head are by no means in subjection to their reason. The raising of blood seems particularly calculated to affect the spirits of the patient, and the sight of that fluid, so essential to life, oozing through unnatural channels, is sure to appal and disconcert the most courageous minds. Mr. Linn was haunted, from his earliest youth, with a fatal persuasion that he should die young, and of all diseases he regarded consumption with most abhorrence. His present symptoms were to him infallible tokens, not only that death was hastening on him, but that it was approaching in a form the most ghastly and terrific. These mournful impressions acquired unusual strength in the winter and spring of 1804. He was attacked several times with spitting of blood; and though these symptoms were not deemed fatal or incurable by his physicians, they spoke a language to his own heart not to be mistaken. He was, however, prevailed upon to try the effects of a new journey. For this purpose, he obtained from his congregation leave of absence for two or three months, and set out towards the eastern states. By this journey he was little amused or benefitted, and the state of his mind, when setting out on his return, will strongly appear in the following extract of a letter, written at Boston, to his father: "Never was a traveller less qualified for giving or receiving pleasure. I cannot discover that I have received the least benefit from my voyage or travel, nor have my spirits ascended the smallest degree above their customary pitch. "I am convinced, that unless I undergo a total renovation, I must leave the pulpit, and endeavour to earn my bread in some other way. If my present impressions are true, if appearances deceive me not, I shall need 'but little here below, nor need that little long.'But as all my hopes of the world are clouded and ruined, could I only subdue some rising apprehensions, and leave my family provided for, I should not regret the blow, however speedy, that crumbled me to dust. I write not to afflict you, but to relieve myself. It is a strange consolation, but it is one of the few consolations I know. You will therefore please to pardon me for this, and all other offences towards you of which I may be guilty. They are inseparable from my cruel dis ease. "I feel the ruin of an intellect, which, with health, would not have dishonoured you, my family, or my country. I feel the ruin of a heart, which I trust was never deficient in gratitude towards my God, or my worldly benefactors. This heart has always fervently cherished the social affections, but now broods over the images of despair, and wars ineffectually with the pang which bespeaks my dissolution. But I must be silent. I believe I have gone too far." time after the writer was no more. In this letter he declares himself incapable of being burthensome to his congregation. "Does not," says he, "my obligations to God and to my people dictate that I ought without farther trial, to relinquish my present charge? May not a righteous Providence point out this conduct as the only road to health? You know how fervently I love the study and the teaching of divine truths; yet, if compelled by necessity to leave the pulpit, may I not still be useful in some way more corresponding to my strength? Severe, very severe, are the dispensations of my God towards me; but I hope to be able to submit. Hope, on which I have lived, has only glimmered on my path to flatter and deceive me. I am convinced that something must now be done." Alas! these schemes for futurity were rendered unnecessary before the rising of another sun. On the evening of that day, he occasionally raised blood, but in a degree scarcely perceptible. It was, however, sufficient to dissipate every ray of cheerfulness, and his heart sunk beyond the power of the friends that were with him to restore it. He retired about half after ten o'clock, as little apprehensive of immediate danger as any of his family; but scarcely had he laid his head upon the pillow, when some motion within him occasioned him to say to his wife, "I feel something burst within me. Call the family together: I am dying." He had scarcely time to pronounce these words, when his utterance was choaked by a stream of blood. After a short interval he recovered strength and sensibility sufficient to exclaim with fervency, clasping his hands and lifting his eyes, "Lord Jesus, pardon my transgressions, and receive my soul!" Such was the abrupt and untimely close of a life, which, though short, had been illustrated by genius and virtue, in a degree of which our country has hitherto afforded very few examples! On the character of Mr. Linn, as a preacher, it is not necessary to dwell, among those who have enjoyed opportunities of hearing him. It is well known, that few persons in America, though assisted by age and experience, have ever attained so great a popularity as he acquired before his twenty third year. The merits which shone forth with so much splendor on his first ascending the pulpit, the discipline and experience of four years by no means impaired. Time, indeed, evinced its salutary influence only in pruning away his juvenile luxuriances, and giving greater solidity to his discourses, without rendering them less engaging. As a poet, performances must also speak for him. He took up the pen, and his effusions obtained public notice and regard, at so early an age as sixteen. He was not nineteen when he had completed two regular dramatic pieces, one of which was brought upon the stage. All After a short stay in New York and its neighborhood, his performances, however, candor compels us to conhe returned to Philadelphia, in July. During the en-sider as preludes to future exertions, and indications of suing six weeks, he was attacked by indisposition in se- future excellence. While their positive merit is consiveral forms. His mind struggled in vain against the con- derable, they are chiefly characteristics of the writer, viction of his increasing and incurable infirmities. As by suggesting to us what might have been expected from this excursion was followed only by new diseases, his him, had Providence allowed him a longer date. hopes were totally subverted, and he wrote a letter to the session of his church, which contained a resignation of his pulpit. This letter was written from the bed of sickness, and he was persuaded to recal it a few days afterwards.Some expedients were proposed for relieving him from part of his professional duties, and his mind experienced some temporary case from the prospects which his friends held out to him. A day of customary health revisited his soul with a transient gleam of consolation: but the fatal period was now hastening, which was to bear stronger testimony than even he himself had imagined to the justice of his apprehensions. On the thirtieth of August he rose with less indisposition than usual. The last words which he committed to paper was on the morning of that day, in a letter to his father, which, however, was not delivered till some On his character in general, the following is the testimony of two of his friends, who had long enjoyed his intimacy, and who are better qualified than any one living to draw a just portrait of him. One of these, the Rev. Mr. John Romeyn, of Albany, speaks of him in the following terms: "I need scarcely mention his talents were of the first order. His imagination was glowing, and yet it was chaste. Even his earliest attempts of writing display a soundness of judgment rarely united with fervidness of fancy, especially in young people. His taste was form, ed on pure models. He was capable of deep research, though constitutionally indisposed to it. His genius was poetic. He always preferred a poem, or criticisms on polite literature, to any other species of composition. His constitution was sanguine. This caused a precipitancy in some of his actions, wnich prudence condemn ed. He had a bias to pleasure, a taste for it; so much so, that I have often, in reflecting over past scenes, wondered how he escaped its pollutions as he did. His readings in early life contributed very much to increase this taste. He was disposed to be romantic in his views and conduct. His temper was quick, his sensibility exquisite. He had all the capricious feelings peculiar to a poet. Though hasty, and sometimes rash, yet was he generous: he scorned meanness. He was warm in his attachments; benevolent in his propensities to mankind. His anticipated pleasures generally exceeded his actual enjoyments. He was accustomed to dwell more on the dark, than on the bright side of the picture of life. He was prone to melancholy, the melancholy of genius.Ofttimes he appeared its victim, sitting for days silent, sad, and gloomy. He felt, even to madness, the slightest disrespect, and as sensibly enjoyed attention paid to him. He was not calculated to move in a moderate common course with the generality of mankind; he was either in the valley of gloom or on the mount of transport; rarely did he enjoy temperate, calm pleasure. With years, the sensibility was corrected. I myself perceived a change in him, in this respect, the last time we were together. In short, his system was like a delicate machine, composed of the finest materials, which was liable to derangements from the slightest and most trifling circumstances, and the continual, diversified action of those parts tended gradually, though certainly, to a speedy destruction of the whole." The Rev. Mr. Alexander M'Leod, of New York, speaks of his deceased friend in the following terms: "About the time of his beginning to preach the gospel, he was greatly agitated about two of the most important points in the Christian's life, What are the characteristics of gracious exercises of heart toward God? and, What is the connexion between the speculative truths of revealed religion and those exercises? "I advised him to read Dr. Owen's Treatise on Communion with God. He did so. He was satisfied with it. He entered fully into the doctor's views of that interesting subject. Of the state of his mind I have received from himself explicit information. Opposed to enthusiasm, and naturally delicate, he was not very communicative on such subjects. He did not think it prudent to unbosom himself to many, because he had himself such a low opinion of his Christian experience, that he thought it probable a fair statement would dispose the censorious to conclude he was entirely destitute of piety, and render the nominal professor satisfied with his own attainments; and consequently have a tendency to hinder his public usefulness, and to encourage inattention to experimental religion. He therefore scarcely ever alluded to his own experience, in conversation even with his most intimate religious friends. He was not, however, absolutely opposed to conversation upon such subjects. He could throw aside reserve, and enter upon it with freedom, when he was under no apprehension that this freedom would be abused. "He was much under the influence of the fear of death, and a reluctance to dying. But he was not in terror of future punishment; for although he confessed himself worthy of it, he trusted in that Saviour which the gospel offers to sinners, and, firmly persuaded of the safety of believers, cheerfully hoped that his own faith, although weak, was really sincere. The frame of his mind, in relation to spiritual things, was almost uniform: never extremely gloomy, never extremely joyous. It differed surprisingly from the natural temperament of his mind. In the concerns of common life, he was the slave of sensibility, the mere child of circumstances. He knew this. His religious life appeared to himself, a third estate, supernaturally called into existence in the empire of his soul, which created a distinct interest, to which all his affections were drawn; and which gradually progressing in strength and in influence, checked the dangerous efforts of the opposite principles of his constitution, rendering his joys less vi vid and more lasting, and rendering his sorrows more easy to endure and overcome." No man ever stood more in need of the aid of friendship and domestic sympathy than Dr. Linn; and no stronger proof could be given of the purity and rectitude of his character, than his feelings on this head. His father and his sisters were his friends in the highest sense of that term. In the bosom of his own family he sought for objects in whom to repose his confidence, and from whom to claim consolation. To entertain a general regard for the worldly welfare and advantage of near relatives is so common, and originates so frequently in selfish motives, that it can scarcely be deemed a merit in any one; but Dr. Linn's attachment to his family was of a higher order. It led him, not only into the tenderest concern for their welfare, but into an intimate union of his heart and affection with theirs. From the time of his entering on the study of theology to his death, he kept up a frequent correspondence with his father. To him he imparted all his hopes and fears, and thus afforded the strongest proof of integrity of thought and action, since eminently pure must that mind be, which can repose unbounded confidence in a father.Such confidence, indeed, is no less honourable to the father who obtains, than to the son who bestows it; and justice will not discountenance the favourable inference which may be suggested by the present case. The best companions of his early youth, those whom a similarity of age and inclinations had endeared to him, were, indeed, removed by their diverse destinies, to a great distance from him; and this circumstance might have been a source of some regret to those who loved him, had not the filial and fraternal charities glowed as warmly as they did in his heart, and supplied the place of all other friendship. He was esteemed and beloved by great numbers, but it was his fondness for seclusion, and not any froward or morose passions, which occasioned him to have but little intercourse with mankind. This little intercourse was by no means fettered or disturbed by personal prejudices. With all his clear and cogent principles, on moral, political, and religious subjects, he combined a charity open as day, and extensive as mankind, and no one's deportment could be more benign and inoffensive than his, towards those who differed with him, even in essential points. He avoided the company of those whom he had no reason to love or respect. He did not seek beyond the small circle of his nearest kindred the company of those who had secured his regard, but when propriety or accident led him into contact with the former, his treatment of them was adapted to win their reverence, and he never refused his confidence or kindness, when claimed by the latter. Short as was his date, and clouded as was the morning of his life by infirmities and sorrows, few there are whose memory will be treated by his adversaries, if any such exist, with more lenity, or will live longer in the hearts of his friends. To mankind at large his short life was useful and glorious, since it was devoted to the divine purpose of inculcating moral and religious duty, and the purpose, only less divine, of illuminating the imagination with the visions of a glowing and harmonious poetry-[Valerian. PROCEEDINGS OF COUNCILS. Thursday evening, September 25th, 1828, Mr. Linn from the committee appointed to inquire if any disposition should be made of the old reservoir at Chesnut street on Schuylkill, made a report recommending the subject to the attention of the next Councils. The committee was, at its own request, discharged from the further consideration of the subject. On motion of Mr. Donaldson, it was resolved that the city commissioners be authorised to put Lombard street from Schuylkill Front street to the Schuylkill, in a passable condition for carts. Mr. Johnson stated that the expense would not exceed 50 dollars. On motion of Mr. Smith, it was resolved, that the Mayor be requested to draw his account on the city treasury in favour of the Chairman of the committee for the purchase of the Morrisville Estate, for the amount of 511 dollars, for the payment of expenses incurred in the purchase of said estate. Mr. Smith said that the charges were, fees for legal advice, searching the offices, drawing and recording deeds, &c. &c. On motion of Mr. Linn, it was resolved, that a copy of the engraving of the survey of the river Schuylkill be, as soon as the same shall be completed, presented to each member of council, and each warden of the port. Mr. L. stated that the Wardens had taken great interest in the survey, and would be at considerable trouble in placing the buoys directed by resolutions. Mr. Lowber presented a petition from Mr. Henry S. Tanner, who states that he is preparing to publish a plan of the city of Philadelphia and the adjoining districts. He prays permission to incorporate in his plan, to make it complete, the recent survey of the river Schuylkill by Mr. Maclure under directions of councils. Referred to Messrs. Lowber, Johnson, Toland and Reed. Mr. Johnson presented a petition from the Diligent Hose Company, complaining that in the apportionment of the appropriation for the aid of fire companies, they had received but 125 dollars, while other companies not superior in merit, and whose apparatus is no way superior to the Diligent's, received 201 dollars. The Company being fearful that the small amount appropriated to them, may lead the public to believe that their apparatus is inferior to that of other companies, pray that the amount appropriated to them may be increased, or that by some expression of opinion the unfavourable impression which they conceive has been created, may be removed. The petition was referred to the Committee on Fire Companies. A statement was received from the city treasurer, of receipts and expenditures during the last six months. Referred to the committee on accounts. Mr. Linn offered the following: Whereas, a most unfortunate and melancholy accident happened at the State House, which eventuated in the death of William Plankard, a meritorious carpenter, employed in erecting the Steeple, who has left a widow and two children, without the means of support. Therefore Resolved, by the Select and Common Council, That the sum of dollars be, and is hereby appropriated to the use of the children of said William Plankard, and that the chairman of the committee on the Steeple be requested to deposit the said sum in the Saving Fund, the interest thereof to be drawn by the widow for the use of said children, and said sum be charged to appropriation No. 21. Mr. Linn said he should let the preamble and resolutions speak for themselves. A member observed that as the gentleman gave no reasons why the preamble and resolutions should be adopted, he could not feel free to vote for them. He knew of no principle on which councils would be justified in making provision for the widows and children of such as met with accidents when engaged in public works. At the suggestion of another member, the consideration of the preamble and resolution was postponed for the present. Mr. Hale, from the Watering Committee, made the following report on the construction of Fair Mount Dam, accompanied by letters from distinguished engineers, and others, who concur in expressing an opinion that the dam is of good construction. FAIR MOUNT DAM. - To the Select and Common Councils. By a resolution of councils of August 9th, 1827, a letter from Mr. William Rush, on the insecurity of Fair Mount Dam was referred to the Watering committee, with instructions to consult experienced wharf and dam builders, on the subject of the matter contained therein. The opinion of this gentleman, in the first place, called in question the stability of the dam, from a supposition that some of the timber in front of it were either out of place, or in danger of being separated from their positions, by the decay of the original fastenings and ties of the dam. And secondly, that to guard against these supposed defects, and to render the dam perfectly secure, it was necessary to throw in large quantities of stone immediately in front of it, extending to high water mark, and occupying a base of two hundred feet down stream, and reaching across two hundred and eighty feet to shallow water on the western side, the depth of the water varying in this distance from seven to nineteen feet, making an average depth of nine feet, to be filled in, and requir ing 20,000 perches of stone. The expense of which, according to the estimate of the committee, would be about $20,000. Admitting the conjectures and opinions entertained by Mr. Rush to be well founded, the subject matter of the letter would immediately become one of great interest to the citizens, and consequently to their delegated agents the Watering committee, upon whom devolves the management of this important work.-After the most deliberate and careful invertigation of this subject, in all its parts, after hearing in verbal consultation, the opinions of Mr. Rush, and such Wharf-builders as he wished to be consulted, and who agreed with him in opinion, in favour of throwing in stone in front of the dam,-your committee have unanimously arrived at the following conclusions: 1st. That the dam at present is in good condition, and perfectly safe, being built entirely on the solid rock. 2ndly. That the plan of depositing stone in front of it would answer no good purpose-and 3dly. That the best method of giving additional security to the dam, when it becomes necessary. is by sinking a range of new cribs in front, and extending the roofing of the dam over the new work to low water mark. These opinions of your committee have been tho roughly confirmed by an examination of the dam during the late drought, when the water was drawn down, and a careful inspection of its present condition was made by the committee and superintendant of the Works, accompanied by William Strickland, Esq. and Daniel Groves, Esq. assisted by Mr. Frederick Erdman. The timbers and general structure of the dam, were found entirely satisfactory, exhibiting no marks of decay or removal from the precise position in which they were originally placed-this circumstance being abun dantly confirmed by the recollections of Mr. Graff and Mr. Erdman, the latter of whom planked the dam at the time of its completion in 1822. Conformably with the instructions of councils, to consult experienced wharf and dam builders, the committee took early measures to obtain the personal attendance at the Works, of gentlemen who were deemed peculiarly fitted from their talents and experience to judge correctly in relation to this matter, but owing to the unusual prevalence of wet weather during the fall of 1827, and the early part of the present year, the dam could not be drawn down, until lately, and as several of the gentlemen lived remote from the city, it was deemed sufficient to address a circular to each of them, a copy of which accompanies this report, containing a draft of the dam, with information of the plan of its construction, and queries as to the best method of strengthening it, in case it was deemed necessary, and particularly desiring their opinions of the propriety of depositing loose stones in front. Of the gentlemen addressed on this occasion, answers have been received from Messrs. Benj. Wright, Josiah White, Erskine Hazard, Wm. Strickland, Daniel Groves, Canvass White, and Frederick Graff, which are |