Alba's monarch.' 'Thy message is anticipated,' said she of the storm, as her eye flashed, and her lip quivered. Alba is mighty; the favored of Plutus- the chosen of Oceanus the rejected of Astræa. Minerva directs our councils - Nemesis our armies -Astræa our cause. Where the evening sun salutes the mountain, dwelleth a youthful chieftain - valiant for Alba when the red man rose in terror, in the day of wrath. Speed thou to his dwelling. He is the Saviour of the West. Command his attendance. Away!-tarry not,' continued she, as her hand waved the signal for departure.

The armies of Alba approached; the queen of the storm advanced. What are ye who thus tread our peaceful plains?' said she; 'your helmets glittering as sun-beams, your garments red as blood?'

The Chief of Alba replied: We come from the King of Alba. In his name we command implicit obedience.' 'Obedience' re-echoed the figure of the storm; ' turn thy gaze to our mountains, and let thy eye scan our forests: the eagle builds her eyrie in the one, the panther roams in wildness in the other; pluck a feather from the former, as she soars through the realms of space, or tame the fierceness of the latter conquer the children of the West!'

then

'Pause,' returned Alba's chieftain, ere yet I unsheath the sword of destruction!' 'Victory belongeth to the just,' replied the figure of the storm; 'her footsteps are tardy, but sure."

A youthful warrior advanced. 'I have fought the battles of Alba,' said he. 'The red man fell before me. I drew my sword the withering remnant of a mighty people departed. I returned to the repose of peace. Even as the red man fell, so will I fall, ere Alba shall triumph. Chief of Alba, no more! We meet in battle!'

The drums beat-the hostile armies met. As the calm precedes the tempest, so was the momentary dominion of silence, ere the swords clashed, and the cannon roared. Dire was the conflict. Blood crimsoned the ground - the horse and his rider lay prostrate. Victory hovered around the ensign of Alba.

NEAR the sea-girt shores of Alba was the dominion of Gallia. Ancient was its race of kings- many its warriors. A stranger from its shores appeared in the armies of the West. His ancestry was noble. Dignity graced his brow. He pressed the hand of the youthful warrior- they were brothers. Contest followed contest; the stranger and the warrior of the West fought side by side. Doubtful was the issue of the conflict, when Astræa hung aloft her scales near the home of the western warrior. Alba's chieftain beheld the beam. Like the Philistine of old, his strength departed; the armies of Alba fled. The Queen of the West triumphed. The youthful warrior retired from the field to grace the councils of his country. The stranger of Gallia returned to the land of his nativity. The greetings of millions were his parting benedictions.

Time rolled on. Commerce spread her wings over the West. Its people were happy, Prosperity crowned their efforts; they reposed under the shades of their own vines and fig-trees. The youthful warrior slept on the hallowed mount. The West mourned her chief. A world paid tribute to his memory.

A SHIP rode on the waters. It bore the stranger from Gallia to the scenes of his early glory. A people gathered around him. The forest had been felled by the woodsman; the beasts of the desert had fled. The stranger gazed in astonishment. 'Guide me,' said he, to the mountain; let me visit the tomb of the brave. The friend of my youth is gone.' Mournful are the hours of the stranger; sorrow dwells in Gallia.

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Behold,' said the Queen of the storm, where the western warrior reposes!' The stranger paused in silence. The tear of remembrance swelled in his dimming eyes. He knelt by the grave of his friend: 'Peace to thy ashes!' said he, thou chosen thou best of the brave! Who shall now cheer thy comrade? The days of his youth are fled age has clouded his brow. Like a giant oak thou art fallen he stands as a withered tree. Lonely and few are his days! Thy garland of glory endureth - time but freshens its verdure. Beyond Death's halls I meet thee. Requiescat in pace! my friend my brother!'

DR. BEASLEY'S 'Reply' to JUNIUS JR.'s strictures upon his article in relation to M. HUME'S 'Argument against Miracles'- which is conducted throughout with the utmost kindness and respect - we abridge below, for two reasons: first, because the learned Doctor, in the commencement of his rejoinder, has assumed the question, by mistaking an introductory remark of the Editors' for one of 'Junius Jr.'s- and second, because

we have no space save for those points which bear directly upon a refutation of the grounds maintained by the writer's antagonist. After remarking that 'Junius Jr.' had in the outset departed from the point of controversy between M. Hume and himself, Dr. Beasley proceeds:

It was not my purpose, in the brief argument of my former paper, to determine whether the certainty to be obtained from human testimony could ever become equiponderant to, or overbalance, that certainty which is to be derived from an invariable experience of the laws and phenomena of nature. This point belongs to the whole subject, in regard to the credibility of miracles, as sustained by human testimony. Into that discussion it was not my intention to enter. This would have required a more extended disquisition. But my sole purpose in that production, as is indicated by its title, was to drive M. Hume from the ground which he had so confidently assumed, that human testimony must always be incompetent to the proof of a miracle, because it must ever rest upon a variable experience of its truth, and of consequence, could never amount in evidence to that degree of certainty which is derived from an experience of the uniform course of nature. I have undertaken to show, that this assumption is a fallacy, inasmuch as human testimony may be so corroborated, as that the experience of mankind in its favor may have been invariable. It was an affair of distinct inquiry, to determine whether this entire certainty obtained from testimony, could ever overbalance that certainty which M. Hume conceives we derive from an invariable experience of the course of nature. It did not fall within the limits of my plan, in that refutation, to enter upon the investigation of such a topic. But my plan will be still further illustrated, by the detail of a few facts which relate to this subject.

We find the following letter from M. Hume to his friend Dr. Campbell, in relation to this important topic.

'It may, perhaps, (says he,) amuse you to learn the first hint of that argument which you have so strenuously attacked. I was walking in the cloisters of the Jesuit's College of La Flêche, a town in which I passed two years of my youth, and engaged in conversation with a Jesuit of some parts and learning, who was relating to me, and urging some nonsensical miracle performed in their convent, when I was tempted to dispute against him. And as my head was full of the topics of my treatise of human nature, which I was at this time composing, this argument immediately occurred to me, and I thought it very much gravelled my companion. But, at last, he observed to me, that it was impossible for that argument to have any solidity, because it operated equally against the Gospel, as the Catholic miracles, which observation I thought proper to admit as a sufficient answer. I believe that you will allow that the freedom, at least, of this reasoning, makes it somewhat extraordinary to have been the produce of a convent of Jesuits, though you may think the sophistry of it savors plainly of the place of its birth.'

This is his romantic account of the origin of this argument, which, as he afterward, in his treatise against miracles declares, 'If just, with the wise and learned will be an everlasting check to all kinds of superstitious delusion, and consequently will be useful as long as the world stands.'

Now, allow me, without vanity or egotism, as an offset to this story, to furnish a brief history of the circumstances which led me to attempt that refutation of Hume's argument which I presented to our editors. I had carefully read all the answers given to M. Hume by Campbell, Watson, Paley, Dwight, Smith, and others; and although these authors have written about the subject with their usual ability, yet none of them appeared to me to answer the objection upon philosophical principles-upon principles having a reference to the grounds of human knowledge, and the degrees of rational assent. Not one of them, as thought, had fully apprehended and rightly stated it. Dr. Paley, with his usual clearness of understanding, approximates nearest to it, but affords no scientific solution of the question-contenting himself with the general remark, that he would believe the testimony of men situated as were the apostles, without unfolding the reasons why their testimony is adequate to the proof of the facts which they promulged. Dr. Dwight has written upon this topic with his accustomed profusion and superabundance; but high as his pretensions are to authorship, in this instance he contends only with phantoms of his own creation, and never once shoots near his mark. I have never read works upon any subject of investigation, which have appeared to be so much misapprehended, and so egregiously maltreated. I determined, therefore, after mature reflection and study, to endeavour to furnish an answer to this muchvaunted argument, which should be as brief and intelligible as possible, and amount to as complete a demonstration as that by which Euclid proves his forty-seventh proposition, or any other in his elements. In order to render the reasoning more impressive, I have introduced, in place of a diagram, the illustration of the dying father in the fable, with his bundle of sticks, conveying admonition to his sons. Now, I ask you, and all others, to re-peruse and master this demonstration, and inform me whether there can be discovered any flaw or deficiency in the premises or conclusion. If there can, I

stand ready not only to allow it, but to relinquish my ground, and go in quest of another more tenable. M. Hume maintains, that no human testimony can authenticate a miracle, because the truth of human testimony always rests upon a variable experience. Have I not shown the sophistry of this principle? Has it not been proved, that this assertion can apply only to some kinds of testimonies, but that testimony may be so corroborated as to rest upon an invariable experience of its truth? Surely, courts of judicature can inform us of many kinds of testimonies far below that furnished by the apostles, which they regard as invariably true, and upon which they repose with confidence their decisions in reference to the reputations, properties, and lives of their fellow men. Are we not certain that Cicero once lived, and at last died under sentence of proscription by Anthony, and that there are now in England and France many illustrious men? And yet this certainty depends upon testimony, and surely it would not be deemed by any reasonable man as invalidating the truth of these facts, to assert that human testimony is always fallible. There is, therefore, a kind of human testimony which amounts to as complete certainty as any evidence which can be derived from our most uniform experience of the laws of nature. It is a part of the course of moral nature that men of integrity should tell the truth.

You will perceive, then, that the argument which M. Hume thought so conclusive, which gravelled his Jesuit of La Flêche, and by which he expected to uproot superstition, consists in the discovery that the truth of human testimony must always rest upon a variable experience, since men are capable of falsehood and deception. The demonstration by which I have undertaken to refute him, consists in proving that there are kinds of testimony so corroborated that they do not rest upon a variable, but invariable experience of their truth.

After this subversion of the principle upon which M. Hume's argument depends, we are then left at liberty to enter upon the discussion about the authenticity of miracles, as if clogged by no such difficulty or impediment. We have, of course, to determine, in all cases of this nature, whether the evidence derived from the testimony of witnesses overcomes that which is deduced from our experience against miracles, or violations of the established laws of nature. When I quoted M. Hume as speaking of that certainty to which we can attain from experience of the uniform laws of nature against miracles, you must recollect that I was exhibiting a fair and candid statement of his argument, being convinced that I could obviate it in its utmost force. I do not hesitate, moreover, to allow, that we may be said to be certain, from experience and observation, of the established laws of nature, and that these laws are never violated, as far as our personal knowledge extends. But, at the same time, I wish you carefully to notice in this case what kind of conviction is implied in that certainty which we have of the course of nature. No scientific man will maintain that demonstrative certainty is here denoted. We can never have the same proof that the course of nature is always the same - that the sun will rise to-morrow; that the tides will ebb and flow in our rivers, or even that a dead man may not be revived, as we have that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. The first is only a natural or sensible certainty, and the last a demonstrative. There is an intuitive, a demonstrative, a sensible, and a moral certainty. These are all different in kind, although in degree, and in their impression upon the mind, they may be equipollent. The highest evidence is that which is intuitive, the next that which is demonstrative, and the natural, or sensible and moral, come after them in order. But that which we derive from the moral may be as satisfactory to the mind, and as strongly coerce its assent, as that which flows from any other source. In their highest state of evidence, they are all equally conclusive. I am as well convinced that there were once such republics as those of Greece and Rome, as I am of the propositions in Euclid's elements. The miracles recorded in the Gospel, therefore, although in contrariety to my personal experience, I consider susceptible of proof from adequate testimony. Our own observation cannot rationally be assumed, as the measure of the credibility of all that ever passed under the experience of others. No earthquakes or volcanoes ever took place in our country; and are we, on this account, to refuse to listen to the reports which are made of them by writers and travelers? Was the King of Siam right, or a good philosopher, when he rejected and scorned the report of the Dutch ambassador, who informed him that in Europe water was rendered a solid substance by the action of cold? The fact is, that we are as oftentimes misled by our experience of the phenomena of nature, as we are by the reports of credible witnesses; and the difference between the evidences afforded by these two modes of eliciting information, is not so great as, upon a superficial view, we might be led to imagine.

We omit the concluding comments upon the remark of 'Junius Jr.,' in regard to the testimony in the case of the Salem witchcraft, because we conceive that Dr. Beasley has evidently mistaken his meaning-which we think was simply that the oaths of the credible and respectable witnesses who testified against the Salem witches, as well as the high opinions of the judges who tried them, were after all entirely false - though doubtless solemnly believed, at that period. to be true beyond gainsaying.

AN ESTRAY.-Some kind individual, journeying hitherward from a sister city, who obligingly took charge of a small package of articles intended for the present number, is now probably wandering 'down east,' with the same snugly stowed away in some unvisited pocket. Five or six subsections of 'Ollapodiana,' therefore, which are among the missing, may be considered as little better than unwritten, since they must remain, for the present at least, unread: hence, digesting our mortification as best we may, we must beg the reader to accept, in this division of our Magazine, the introductory sheet, which reached us seasonably, through the aid of Uncle Samuel,' as a very correct friend of ours, who repudiates nick-names, is wont to term the United States Govern

READER, I do not wish to twaddle-but there can be no harm in announcing to you, that in my meridian the 'spring time of the year is coming.' There is a soft, bland influence in the air, which comes over the spirit like the rush of an angel's wing, filling it with fresh and happy thoughts. I can see the trees from my window, bursting into verdure; and the thousand voices of the city seem sweeter to my ear. We have had a stormy winter and a long; and those were horrid North-easters that blew along the Atlantic coast, what time, vexed with our Yankee euroclydon, (and we occasionally get up a passing good one,) 'the sea wrought, and was tempestuous.' But now, the winter is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of the birds is come; and the voice of the turtle is heard in the land: not the 'torkle upon yander's tree,' of which I made a late quotation from a bard of Pennsylvania; but those which william and coo, with their beautiful necks, on the house-tops. (I hate the word bill, for many reasons.) The chimney-sweep stays longer in the quiet sunshine on his brick tower; the spirit of spring is in his brush, and his song is louder. Commend me to Spring. It is the gem of the seasons, beyond dispute.

TALKING of disputes, sends into my mind the thought of a good-hearted acquaintance, who really thinks that he is immense in controversy. He will overcome you with words, and though they have but little argument in them, yet I have never known a person to commence a colloquy with him, who was not worsted. He will go from Dan until thou come to Beersheba, just to compass a hard word, which he lugs in as a puzzler. If his opponent tells him he does not know what he means by such words, he will come down upon him with the sweeping conclusion that such ignorance is a proof that he is not a fit antagonist. Lately, he was riding in the stage with a motley collection of passengers, in the interior of a neighboring state. By degrees the party became chatty, and our friend was not backward in the lingual exercise. The conversation turned upon the merits of Christianity and unbelief. There were one or two infidels in the vehicle, who took up the cudgels for their side, with more zeal than truth or discretion. They began to circumvent our traveler, when he stopped them short by saying. 'Gentlemen, it is no manner of use for you to attempt an argument with me. I have out-talked many of your way of thinking; and I may say, that I never met wth one yet, who was not glad enough, before I had done with him, to get off by crying copari! He thought this the choice Italian for peccavi. It is needless to say, that after this, by common concession, 'he had the floor.'

WHAT a horrid affair was that Thomas-street tragedy! - the murder of a miserable creature, cut off in the very flush of her sinful career! The whole transaction seems

half clothed in mystery: but the murderer will yet be revealed. Whatever of doubt or darkness now invests the subject, will ere long be clear as the sunshine. The actor in that dreadful drama will yet own the deed. How powerful and strong are the monitions of conscience! Sere it as you will, it has a voice that echoes in the ear of the spirit through the night, in dreams and visions of its restless watches. How strongly and how faithfully is this quality of man depicted in the noble Dream of Eugene Aram.' I copy it here entire, as one of the sweetest narratives in our language; simple, pure, graphic and touching, beyond degree.

THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM.

BY THOMAS HOOD.

[THE late Admiral Burney went to school at an establishment where the unhappy Eugene Aram was usher, subsequent to his crime. The admiral stated, that Aram was generally liked by the boys; and that he used to discourse to them about murder, in somewhat of the spirit which is attributed to him in this poem.]