MORTUARY.

DIED, at the advanced age of eighty-seven years, BENJAMIN CHEW, Esq. Mr. Chew was born in Maryland, and was the son of Samuel Chew, Esq. who held a high judicial office before the revolution. Intended for the bar, Mr. Chew finished his professional education in London, and after his return to his native country entered on the practice of the law, first in what is now the state of Delaware, and afterwards in Pennsylvania, where his talents and industry soon raised him to great eminence. He was successively appointed attorney-general, recorder of the city of Philadelphia, member of the proprietary council, register of wills, &c. and chief justice; which last office he held until the dissolution of the proprietary government.

Both at the bar, and on the bench, he was distinguished, by the accuracy and extent of his forensic knowledge, quickness of perception, strength and closeness of argument, and soundness of judgment.

After the establishment of the present form of government, he remained in private life, except that at the instance of many respectable citizens he accepted a seat in the first common council of the city, until the year 1790, when on the institution of the high court of errors and appeals, he was appointed president of it, and continued in that important and useful tribunal, till our legislature, in the year 1806, on a new distribution of judicial power thought proper to abolish it. Mr. Chew took a part in its functions till the year 1804. The last three or four years of his life were clouded by lingering and frequently severe disease, which he bore with firmness until he expired on Saturday night, the 20th instant, beloved, resigned, and most truly regretted.

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PRINTED FOR BRADFORD AND INSKEEP, NO. 4, SOUTH THIRD

STREET, BY SMITH AND MAXWELL.

Descriptive of a Pedestrian Journey to the Falls of Niagara, In the Autumn of 1804.

By the Author of American Ornithology.

With two plates.

(Concluded from page 168.)

O'ER these lone swamps the Muse impatient flies,
Where mightier scenes and nobler prospects rise,
Nor stoops, in dull rehearsal to detail

Each roaring rapid and each adverse gale,

What vagrant tribes, what islands met our view;
How down Oswego's foaming Falls we flew,
Now plunging in our sinking bark to save,
Now headlong hurried down th' outrageous wave;
How through the clear still flood, with sounding oars,
We swept, and hail'd with songs the echoing shores.
These had their pleasures, and perhaps their fears;
But terrors fly when daring courage steers.
A thousand toils, a thousand dangers past,
The long-expected Lake appears at last,

Seen through the trees, like Ocean's boundless blue,
Huzza! huzza! ONTARIO is in view!

With flying hats we hail the glorious spot,
And every care and every fear's forgot.

So, when of old, we cross'd th' Atlantic waves,
And left a land of despots and of slaves,
With equal joy COLUMBIA'S shores we spy'd,
And gave our cares and sorrows to the tide.

Here, ere we lanch the boundless deep along,
Surrounding scenes demand their share of song.
Mark yon bleak hill, where rolling billows break,
Just where the river joins the spacious lake,
High on its brow, deserted and forlorn,
Its bastions levelled, and its buildings torn,
Stands Fort Oswego;* there the winds that blow
Howl to the restless surge that groans below;
There the lone sentry walk'd his round; or stood,
To view the sea-fowl coursing o'er the flood;
Midst night's deep gloom shrunk at the panther's how
And heard a foe in every whooping owl.
Blest times for soldiers! times, alas, not near,
When foes like these are all they have to fear;
When man to man will mutual justice yield,
And wolves and panthers only stain the field."

Those straggling huts that on the left appear,
Where boats and ships their crowded masts uprear,
Where fence, or field, or cultured garden green,
Or blessed plough, or spade were never seen,
Is old Oswego; once renowned in trade,
Where numerous tribes their annual visits paid;
From distant wilds, the beaver's rich retreat,
For one whole moon they trudg'd with weary feet;
Pil'd their rich furs within the crowded store,
Replaced their packs, and plodded back for more.
But time and war have banish'd all their trains,
And nought but potash, salt, and rum remains.
The boistrous boatman, drunk but twice a day,
Begs of the landlord; but forgets to pay;
Pledges his salt, a cask for every quart,
Pleas'd thus for poison with his pay to part.
From morn to night here noise and riot reign;

From night to morn 'tis noise and roar again.

* This post was finally abandoned on the 28th of October, 1804, about a week before dur visit there.