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adopt the course of education which we have just sketched, learn from the fate of Margaret Greenfield, that home is the proper nursery of virtue and affection, and a useful education, adapted to their condition in life, is the only one which can promote the mutual happiness of yourselves and children.
SINGULAR ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM.
WHEN General Putnam first moved to Pomfret, in Connecticut, in the year 1739, the country was new, and much infested with wolves. Great havock was made among the sheep by a she wolf, which, with her annual whelps, had for several years continued in that vicinity. The young ones were commonly destroyed by the vigilance of the hunters, but the old one was too sagacious to be ensnared by them.
2. This wolf, at length, became such an intolerable nuisance, that Mr. Putnam entered into a combination with five of his neighbours to hunt alternately until they could destroy her. Two, by rotation, were to be constantly in pursuit. It was known, that, having lost the toes from one foot by a steel-trap, she made one track shorter than the other.
3. By this vestige, the pursuers rec'ognised, in a light snow, the route of this pernicious animal. Having followed her to Connecticut river, and found she had turned back in a direct course towards Pomfret, they immediately returned, and, by ten o'clock the next morning, the bloodhounds had driven her into a den, about three miles distant from the house of Mr. Putnam.
4. The people soon collected with dogs, guns, straw, fire and sulphur, to attack the common enemy. With this apparatus, several unsuccessful efforts were made to force her from the den. The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused to return. The smoke of blazing straw had no effect. Nor did the fumes of burnt brimstone, with which the cavern was filled, compel her to quit the retire
5. Wearied with such fruitless attempts, (which had brought the time to ten o'clock at night,) Mr. Putnam tried once more to make his dog enter, but in vain he proposed to his negro man to go down into the cavern, and shoot the wolf. The negro declined the hazardous service.
6. Then it was that their master, angry at the disappointment, and declaring that he was ashamed of having a coward in his family, resolved himself to destroy the ferocious beast, lest she should escape through some unknown fissure of the rock.
7. His neighbours strongly remonstrated against the perilous enterprise; but he, knowing that wild animals were intimidated by fire, and having provided several strips of birch bark, the only combustible material which he could obtain, which would afford light in this deep and darksome cave, prepared for his descent.
8. Having, accordingly, divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and having a long rope fastened round his legs, by which he night be pulled. back at a concerted signal, he entered, head foremost, with the blazing torch in his hand.
9. Having groped his passage till he came to a horizontal part of the den, the most terrifying darkness appeared in front of the dim circle of light afforded by his torch. It was silent as the house of death. None but monsters of the desert had ever before explored this solitary mansion of horrour.
10. He, cautiously proceeding onward, came to an ascent, which he slowly mounted on his hands and knees, until he discovered the glaring eye-balls of the wolf, who was sitting at the extremity of the cavern. Startled at the sight of fire, she gnashed her teeth, and gave a sullen growl.
11. As soon as he had made the necessary discovery, he kicked the rope, as a signal for pulling him out. The people at the mouth of the den, who had listened with painful anxiety, hearing the growling of the wolf, and supposing their friend to be in the most imminent danger, drew him forth with such celerity, that he was stripped of his clothes, and severely bruised.
12. After he had adjusted his clothes, and loaded his gun with nine buck shot, holding a torch in one hand, and the
musket in the other, he descended a second time. When he drew nearer than before, the wolf, assuming a still more fierce and terrible appearance, howling, rolling her eyes, snapping her teeth, and dropping her head between her legs, was evidently in the attitude, and on the point of springing at him.
13. At this critical instant, he levelled, and fired at her head. Stunned with the shock, and suffocated with the smoke, he immediately found himself drawn out of the cave. But, having refreshed himself, and permitted the smoke to dissipate, he went down the third time.
14. Once more he came within sight of the wolf, who appeared very passive: he applied the torch to her nose, and, perceiving her dead, he took hold of her ears, and then kicking the rope, (still tied round his legs,) the people above, with no small exultation, dragged them both out together.
EXTRACT FROM DR. JOSEPH WARREN'S ORATION, DELIVERED AT BOSTON, MARCH 5, 1772.
THE voice of your fathers blood cries to you from the ground, "My sons, scorn to be SLAVES! In vain we met the frowns of tyrants; in vain we crossed the boisterous ocean, found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence of liberty; in vain we toiled; in vain we fought; we bled in vain, if you, our offspring, want valour to repel the assaults of her invaders !"
2. Stain not the glory of your worthy ancestors; but, like them, resolve never to part with your birthright. Be wise in your deliberations, and determined in your exertions for the preservation of your liberty.
3. Follow not the dictates of passion, but enlist yourselves under the sacred banner of reason; use every method in your power to secure your rights; at least, prevent the curses of posterity from being heaped upon your memories.
4. If you, with united zeal and fortitude, oppose the torrent of oppression; if you feed the true fire of pa'triotism
burning in your breasts; if you, from your souls, despise the most gaudy dress which slavery can wear; if you really prefer the lonely cottage, while blessed with liberty, to gilded palaces, surrounded with the ensigns of slavery, you may have the fullest assurance that tyr'anny, with her whole accursed train, will hide her hideous head in confusion, shame and despair.
5. If you perform your part, you must have the strongest confidence, that the same Almighty Being, who protected your pious and venerable forefathers, who enabled them to turn a barren wilderness into a fruitful field, who so often made bare his arm for their salvation, will still be mindful of their offspring.
6. May this ALMIGHTY BEING graciously preside in all our councils. May he direct us to such measures as he himself shall approve, and be pleased to bless. May we be ever favoured of God. May our land be a land of liberty, the seat of virtue, the asylum of the oppressed, "a name and a praise in the whole earth," until the last shock of time shall bury the empires of the world in undistinguished ruin.
BETWEEN TWO NEIGH
Derby. GOOD morning, neighbour Scrapewell. I have half a dozen miles to ride to-day, and should be extremely obliged if you would lend me your gray mare.
Scrapewell. I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige you, but am under a necessity of going immediately to the mill with three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal this very morning.
Der. Then she must want it still, for I can assure you the mill does not go to-day. I heard the miller tell Will Davis that the water was too low.
Scrape. You don't say so? That is quite unlucky; for, in that case, I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. My wife would comb my head for me if I should neglect it.
Der. I can save you this journey: I have plenty of meal at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants.
Scrape. Ah, neighbour Derby, I am sure your meal will never suit my wife. You can't conceive how whimsical she is.
Der. If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am certain she would like it; for you sold it to me yourself, and you assured me it was the best you ever had.
Scrape. Yes, yes, that's true, indeed; I always have the best of every thing. You know, neighbour Derby, that no one is more ready to oblige than I am; but I must tell you the mare this morning refused to eat hay; and truly I am afraid she will not carry you.
Der. Oh, never fear; I will feed her well with oats on the road.
Scrape. Oats, neighbour; oats are very dear.
Der. They are so indeed; but no matter for that. When I have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles.
Scrape. It is very slippery; and I am really afraid she will fall, and break your neck.
Der. Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare is certainly sure-footed; and, besides, you were just now talking yourself of galloping her to town
Scrape: Well, then, to tell you the plain truth, though I wish to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite in pieces, and I have just sent my bridle to be mended.
Der. Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hanging up at home.
Scrape. Ah, that may be; but I am sure your saddle will never fit my mare.
Der. Why then I'll borrow neighbour Clodpole's.
Scrape. Clodpole's! His will no more fit than yours does.*
Der. At the worst, then, I will go to my good friend, squire Jones. He has half a score of them; and I am sure he will lend me one that will fit her.
Scrape. You know, friend Derby, that no one is more willing to oblige his neighbours than I am. I do assure you the beast should be at your service with all my heart; but she has not been curried, I believe, for three weeks past.