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The Rock Bridge in Virginia is a structure of such symmetry, that it seems rather to have been formed by the harmonizing hand of Nature, than produced by one of her awful convulsions. It is on the ascent of a hill, and affords a road to the waggons of the emigrants into the country west of the Allegbany. No man ever yet played the hero on the top of this Bridge ; for no one ever had the courage to walk to the parapet and look over from the precipice into the abyss; but all involuntarily fall on their hands and knees to gaze. You descend into the valley, by a narrow, serpentine path, through a thicket of trees which terminates at the very instant when the whole fabric with its broad abutments and lofty arch, spanning a rivulet murmuring over its rocky bed, bursts on the astonished sight. A negro boy once following his master to this point, no sooner caught a glance of the pile than he fell upon his knees, and remained fixed for some time in wonder and admiration.
THE NATURAL BRIDGE.
When Fancy left her native skies
To visit earth, before unseen, She bade the swelling fabric rise
In this sequesterd, sylvan scene.
Each comely Grace, with spritely air,
Appear'd beneath the hanging wood, Forming the arch with nicest care,
To span the laughing valley flood.
Then Fancy, from the pile above,
Would muse transported, bending o'er, And rapt behold the current rove,
While jocund Echo mock'd its roar.
And, here, perhaps, the Indian stood,
With hands upheld, and eye amaz’d, As, sudden, from the devious wood,
He first upon the fabric gaz'd!
See Tadmor's domes, and halls of state,
In undistinguish'd ruin lie;
And claim the pensive pilgrim's sigh.
But while consuming Time impairs.
The monuments of human art, This pile unfading grandeur wears,
Eternal in its every part,
GREEK VERSION OF A NEGRO SONG,
From Mr. Park's Travels.
“ The winds roared, and the rains fell. “ The poor white man, faint and weary, “came and sat under our tree, &c.
MR. BURKE'S EULOGY
THE SEAMEN OF AMERICA.
Pass by the other parts of the Continent, and look at the manner in which the mariners of New England have of late carried on the Whale Fishery. Whilst we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice, and behold them penetrating into the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay and Davis's Streights, whilst we are looking for them beneath the Arctic Circle, we hear that they have pierced into the opposite regions of polar cold, that they are at the Antipodes, and engaged under the Frozen Serpent of the South. Falkland Islands, which seems too remote and romantic an object for the grasp of national ambition, is but a stage and resting place in the progress of their victorious industry. Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging to them than the accumulated winter of both the poles. We know that whilst some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon on the Coast of Africa, others run the longitude and pursue their gigantic game clong the Coast of Brazil. No sea but is vexed by their fisheries. No climate that is not witness to their toils. Neither tie perseverance of Holland, nor the activity of France, nor the dexterous and firm sagacity of English enterprize, ever carried this most perilous mode of hardy industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by this recent people ; a people who are still, as it were, but in the gristle, and not yet hardened into the bone of manhood.
Address to the Electors of Bristol,