turies of time in the past, and observe, under the dispensation of shadows, a sincere and would-be upright Jew. He is fully aware of the law demanding the sacrifice without blemish-the choicest of his flock. A latent spark of covetousness kindles to a yet more ardent flame, as he gazes with increasing interest on the valuable sacrifice, until aroused by the consideration of what indulgence in the unhallowed propensity will lead to, he at once, with decisive step, hastens to the hallowed altar. The sacrifice is laid upon the altar, and the moment it touches the altar "most holy," it is sanctified. Did the sanctification of the gift depend on the freeness of the offerer, or on the sanctity of the altar? And in full view of the most explicit declaration, "Whatsoever toucheth the altar shall be holy," do you conjecture that offerer stood in perplexing uncertainty, saying, "I do not know whether the altar will sanctify my gift." It would indeed have been most impious, in face of God's direct testimony; for, as you will observe, not only the sanctity of the altar would be undervalued, but the faithfulness of God doubted; and what could be more dishonoring to the faithful, promise-keeping Jehovah?

And now, dear R., I presume that you are saying, "Would that I could find an altar most holy! If the shadow of good things to come is presented in the illustration just given, where shall I find the substance? Has God provided an altar most holy, whereunto the believer in Christ may come? Where is the Christian's altar? What were the intervening of almost interminable distance, if the certainty of success would but prepossess my heart! This decided, gladly would I this moment leave all and hasten with unwearied step, and repose my whole existence upon the sanctifier." Listen to God, dear R. The decree has passed the throne that thou shalt be instructed. The Holy Spirit is now taking of the things of God, to reveal them unto thee. Hark! through the medium of the written word the ardent inquiry of thy heart is answered: "We have an altar whereof they have no right to eat who serve the tabernacle." How explicit! What more would your waiting spirit require? Do you ask whether it is an altar of sufficient sanctity to warrant the conclusion that if you lay your offering upon it, it will, by virtue of its inherent holiness, sanctify the gift the moment it is laid thereon? Divine authority settles the matter-"We are sanctified through the offering of the body of Christ, once for all," Heb. x, 10. Surpassing conception is the superior sanctity of the altar to which you now come. The Jewish altar was sanctified by modes of purification prescribed by the law: "And now, if the blood of bulls and goats, and the ashes of an heifer, sprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh, how much more shall

the blood of Christ, who, through the eternal Spirit, offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works, to serve the living God." Yes, dear R., the Christian's altar IS "MOST HOLY "--unutterably beyond human thought. Inherent holiness is here! The purity of the innumerable company from time immemorial in the upper sanctuary, as also of that of every humble, holy believer that has ever existed on earth, has all been derived from this fountainsource of purity.

Yes, R., Christ is the Christian's altar! How wonderful! What a stoop of mercy and love! My spirit bounds with unutterable joyousness at the thought. May I-aye, more do I indeed lay all upon this inconceivably hallowed altar? Yes, R., I know it-I feel it; and now where shall I find words to express the abundant realization of blessedness which my soul enjoys? My case proves, dear R., that these shrinkings of nature, resolutely unyielded to, are no barriers in the way. Do they not even serve to bring out more strongly the principle of obedience? God said to Abraham, "Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest." The intimation here is most conclusive that God intended that Abraham's paternal affections should be recognized; and may we not presume that this part of the sacrifice constituted the most prominent characteristic, in the eye of God, of his faith and devotion. You will observe that after he had passed through this trial, God specifies this surrender of paternal affection as a test by which the principle of holy fear and obedience was brought out, and said, "For now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son-thy only son-from me." How fully God assures us here that "obedience is better than sacrifice."

ADMONITION.

We should not be too proud to learn from a savage. Moffat, in his missionary labors in South Africa, mentions the fact of his giving a hat to an African chief, who, on putting it on his head, was cheered by the shouts of his admiring tribe. Immediately, the chief, taking the novel article from his own head, placed it on that of one of his own attendants; on being asked his reason, he, with great naivete, replied that he could not see and admire it on his own head! Now here, we thought, is an idea worthy of improvement. Many of our ladies clothe themselves extravagantly for the sake of gratifying the eyes of others, and all they receive in return is the trouble of taking care of their costly articles. We advise those of our acquaintance to imitate the African sage, and content themselves with admiring these things on others.-Phil. Pres.

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Original.

SKETCH OF WYOMING.

BY S. COMFORT.

THERE are few spots on the continent of deeper interest than Wyoming Valley-few, whose local associations are more full of thrilling interest to the traveler, who, as he passes over its romantic plains, with its beautiful and extended landscapes spread out before him, terminated by circumambient mountain barriers on either side, feels that he is treading on classic ground. Few spots are more fruitful in aboriginal and chivalrous incidents. These have enriched the historian's page while they have inspired the poet's muse. The history of Wyoming has already been written by several hands. But the subject is not yet exhausted. Here the geologist may find abundant material for analysis and speculation. And as long as aboriginal and Revolutionary narrative shall continue objects of interest to the world; as long as the naturalist shall delight himself in attempts to decipher the records of the earth's disruptions and transmutations, as they may be legible in geological deposits and mineral strata, will the Valley of Wyoming not only retain its present degree of interest, but continue in the ascendant. The traveler and the scholar of future generations, will be astonished at the apathy and insensibility of those of the present to her various and enchanting attractions.

Etymology of the name. Wyoming is an Indian name Anglicised. In all such instances two things are chiefly important-the true aboriginal name, and its import in our own language. The tribe of Indians who were proprietors of this celebrated valley, at the date of the earliest historical records extant, were known by the designation of Lenelenoppes. By the first English adventurers they were denominated the Delawares, after the name of a river, which, in honor of Lord De-la-War, they called Delaware, and which name it still retains. By this tribe this valley was called Maughwau-ma-me: The Large Meadows. But the Five Nations, who subsequently conquered the Delawares, called it S'gah-on-to-wa-no: The Large Flats. The Moravian missionaries, endeavoring to catch the sound as nearly as they could from Indian articulation, wrote the name M'cheawammi. Other pronunciations and corruptions followed, such as Wiomie, Wajomie, Wyomiuk, and finally Wyoming obtained, the present name.

Dimensions of the Valley. The distance from the Lackawanna gap, where the Susquehanna plunges into the valley through a narrow defile of high, rocky mountains at the northwest, to a similar passage at the southern extremity, is about twenty miles. Its average width is about three miles.

It

is walled in by two parallel ranges of mountains; that on the east being about one thousand feet in height, and that on the west about eight hundred. The eastern range is still as wild as when first surveyed by the eye of the white man, covered with pines, dwarf-oaks and laurels, presenting a forest interspersed with various deciduous and ever-green trees and shrubs. The western range is not only less elevated but less rugged and sterile, readily yielding to the hand of culture, and here and there dotted with a good upland farm. Than the alluvial grounds, which skirt the margin of the river which winds its course mid-way through the valley, nothing finer can be conceived for the various purposes of easy and well compensated cultivation. But the mountain ranges, commencing at the southern eliptical point, or Nanticoke gap, thence circling off and stretching along in parallel lines at the distance just stated, do not unite at the Lackawanna gap, where the Susquehanna steals into the valley through a pass so narrow, with perpendicular bluffs on either side, as scarcely to be perceivable by the stranger at a short distance only, above or below, but continue on in the same direction some twenty miles further, at about the same distance from each other, till they pass the celebrated coal lands at Carbondale; thus forming the Lackawanna Valley, which is but an extension of Wyoming Valley. The entire basin is, therefore, more than forty miles long. The Lackawanna section, however, is far inferior, both as to beauty and productiveness, to the Wyoming section, which commences at the junction of the Susquehanna and Lackawanna rivers; the former at this point suddenly bursting through a narrow gorge in the mountain to receive the latter, which scarcely varies from its general course to form the junction.

Wars of which Wyoming Valley has been the seat. The first of which we have any historic record, was one which occurred between the Delawares and Shawnees. They occupied opposite sides of the river at the lower extremity of the valley. The immediate cause of this war was the most frivolous and trifling imaginable, while, in its results, it was the most bloody and disastrous ever waged. It is known as the grasshopper war. It is described as happening thus: On a certain day, the warriors of both clans being engaged in the chase upon the mountains, a party of Shawnee women and children crossed over the river to the Delaware side to gather wild fruits. In this occupation they were joined by some Delaware squaws and their children. In the course of the day the harmony of the children was interrupted by a dispute respecting the possession of a large grasshopper, probably one with parti-colored wings. The mothers took part with their respective children. The Delaware women being the most numerous, and being

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on their own side of the river, the Shawnees were driven home, after several were killed on both sides. On the return of their husbands from hunting, the Shawnee warriors instantly espoused the cause of their wives, and crossed the river, fullarmed, to give the Delawares battle. The latter were not unprepared to meet them, and a bloody conflict ensued, which, after great slaughter on both sides, ended in the total defeat and expulsion of the Shawnees from the valley. They fled to their brethren residing at that time on the banks of the Ohio.

The first white settlement in Wyoming, was made under the auspices of the Susquehanna Company, in 1762. This association was formed in 1753, by sundry persons in Connecticut, for the purpose of establishing a colony in this delightful spot. Here we must date the commencement of a sort of second Punic war-in other words, one of the most unpleasant controversies respecting land titles, which ever existed between citizens of the American colonies. It arose between the Connecticut claimants to lands in Wyoming, which they claimed under royal grants and titles obtained by purchase from the Indians, and the proprietories of the colony of Pennsylvania, who also had effected purchases of the Six Nations. This controversy continued down to 1788, through the long period of thirty-five years. Its adjustment was finally effected, chiefly through the mediation of Colonel Pickering. But our limits preclude detail.

It was not till 1762, some nine years after the organization of this company, that a body of settlers about two hundred strong, entered the valley. Short and eventful was the history of this infant corps of pioneers. The first Indian massacre is identified with its termination. The Six Nations looked with jealousy and burning envy upon the Delawares, with whom our white settlers had now lived for two years on terms of the greatest friendship. A party of warriors from the Six Nations came to the valley under the specious pretense of friendship, who, after loitering about a few days, most treacherously set the house of the unsuspecting Delaware chief on fire, and with it the veteran himself was burnt to ashes. To increase their atrocious cruelty, they charged this incendiary assassination upon the white settlers, and most unfortunately they had the address to inspire the Delawares with such a belief. And while the settlers were as unconscious of any such imputation as they were of the crime itself, the storm of savage revenge suddenly broke upon them. Some thirty were massacred in cold blood at noon-day. The rest, amounting to several hundreds of men, women and children, fled through the wilderness to the nearest white settlement, some sixty miles distant. With immense suffering some arrived

alive, while many of their comrades in flight perished in the wilderness.

An intervening period of fourteen years, filled up with a tissue of strife and conflict between the Yankees and Pennamites, attended with the various fortunes and distresses of open, hostile, civil war, brings us down to the celebrated Wyoming battle and massacre. This was one of the most disastrous events recorded in the history of the Revolutionary struggle. It combined the most refined cruelty of savage with civilized barbarity, as will appear from the following, on the authority of Chapman, History and Poetry of Wyoming, Silliman's Journal, &c.

Early in the spring of 1778, a force consisting of about eight hundred men, of British regulars, tories and Indians, under the command of Colonel John Butler, assembled at Niagara, and marched to the reduction of Wyoming. The Indians, four hundred in number, were commanded by Brant, a warlike chief of mixed blood. At Tioga Point these troops embarked on boats and rafts, upon which they descended the Susquehanna till they came within about twenty miles of Wyoming Fort, arriving here the latter part of June. On the evening of the 2d July they took possession of a fort which the settlers had built about a mile above the head of the valley, called Fort Wintermoot. A council of war was called at Forty Fort, so named from its having been built and defended by forty of the settlers, three miles above Fort Wyoming, on the morning of the 3d July, to determine between the expediency of marching out and giving the enemy battle, and of waiting his advance. Some advocated delay, in the hope that a reinforcement would arrive from General Washington. Others maintained that as no advices had been received in answer to their message, the messengers had in all probability been intercepted and cut off; and as the enemy was constantly increasing, it was better if possible to meet and repel him at once. The debates were warm on both sides. But before they were ended, five commissioned officers arrived from the continental army, who, having heard of the invasion, on permission, had come for the defense of their families. All hope of succor was now extinguished, and a determination for an immediate attack was the result of the council. Colonel Zebulon Butler, from the continental army, who chanced to be at home, yielded to the urgent request of the people to take the command. As soon as the necessary dispositions could be made, he led on his undisciplined force with a view to take the enemy by surprise. And such, historians say, would have been the result, but for one of those untoward incidents which no human wisdom could foresee. A scout of two men had been sent forward to reconnoitre, who found the enemy at

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an attack. But, most unfortunately, on their return they were met and fired upon by a strolling Indian, who fled and gave the alarm. Consequently, on the approach of the Americans they found the enemy's line displayed ready to meet them. They immediately displayed their column, forming in a corresponding line. But as the enemy was more than double in number, their line was much more extended. Yellow pines and scrub oaks covered the battle-ground, so that the movements of the enemy's troops could not be so well ascertained. Col. Z. Butler had command on the right, opposed by Col. John Butler, at the head of the British troops; and Col. Nathan Denison on the left, opposed by Brant, at the head of his Indians, on the enemy's right. The conflict began soon after four o'clock, P. M., at about forty rods distance, and for a time was kept up on both sides with great spirit. The right of the settlers' line advanced bravely as they fired, and the best troops of the enemy were compelled to give back. But far different was the aspect of affairs on the left. Penetrating a dark swamp, a strong body of Indians, unperceived, succeeded in outflanking Col. Denison, and like a dark cloud suddenly fell upon his rear. At the same time, Col. John Butler, finding that the settlers' line did not extend as far as his own, doubled that end of his line which was protected by a thick growth of brush-wood, and succeeded in throwing Col. Z. Butler's division into some confusion. This little veteran band, thus standing between two fires, fell fast before the rifles of the Indians and tories; but they faltered not, till an order of Col. Denison to "fall back," for the purpose only of changing position, was mistaken for an order to retreat. This mistake was fatal. The confusion instantly became so great that restoration to order was impossible. The enemy, not more brave, but better practiced in the horrid art of savage warfare, and withal more than double in number, at once sprang forward, commencing a most hideous yell, rushing upon the Americans hand to hand, with rifle, tomahawk, and spear. But the handful of regulars, amounting to some fifty in number, having enlisted just before under Capt. Hewit, who had been acting as recruiting officer in the valley, and those who were not at first thrown into confusion, did all it was possible to do to retrieve the fortunes of the day. It is said that Col. Dorrance, observing one of his men yield a little ground, called out to him with the utmost coolness, "Stand up to your work, sir." The colonel immediately fell. As the enemy were pressing upon the rear, an officer inquired of Captain Hewit, "Shall we retreat, sir?" A profane negative was his reply, and the next moment he fell at the head of his little command. The retreat now became a general flight, attended with VOL. IV.-15

officer named Westbrook, "shall we go?" "I'll have one more shot," said a Mr. Cooper in reply. At the same instant a frightful savage sprang toward him with his spear, but was brought to the ground in his leap, and Cooper deliberately reloaded his piece before he moved. He was one of the few who survived the battle. It is said, that on the first discovery of the confusion which began on the left, Col. Z. Butler rode into the thickest of the conflict, exclaiming, "Don't leave me, my children! The victory will yet be ours." But overpowered by numbers under better discipline than could be expected among troops hastily collected, composed of boys and old men, fathers and sons, aged men and grandfathers, who had been compelled to seize such weapons as were at hand and take the field on a moment's warning, the band of patriots were compelled to leave the field to the enemy.

The day was lost. But in the brutal slaughter which attended the rout and flight of the vanquished fugitives, savage barbarity was eclipsed by civilized men. Historians give the following example: A short distance below the battle-ground there is an island called "Monockonock Island," To this, several Americans, in their flight, succeeded in swimming, where they secreted themselves among the logs and brush-wood upon it. Having thrown away their arms in their flight, before entering the river, they were quite defenseless. Two of them concealed themselves in sight of each other. While here, they saw several of the enemy, who had followed them and fired at them as they swam the river, approach the island. On reaching it, they immediately wiped and loaded their guns. One of them soon passed by where one of these men lay concealed, and was recognized as the brother of his companion who was concealed near him. This man being a tory, had joined the enemy. Passing carefully along, examining every covert, he soon discovered his brother in his concealment. Suddenly stopping, he said, "So it is you, is it?" Finding himself discovered, he advanced a few steps and fell upon his knees, and begged that his life might be spared, promising to live with him, serve him, and even to be his slave, if he would only spare his life. "All this is mighty good," replied his more than savage brother; "but you are a rebel," (with an oath,) and shot him dead on the spot!

But the scenes of horrid carnage did not end with the setting sun. And while we cannot but mourn over the fate of those who fell on the battle-field, those who were overtaken in their flight and sunk under the tomahawk, or who were taken prisoners alive, deserve even a still greater share of our pity. While the widows and children