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many a throbbing breast, even as now the song3, of pregnant simplicity and affluent tenderness, by Morris, afford delight to a community pervadel by a calmer spirit, and controlled by a loftier refinement. Moreover, we are to remember that in that early age of the Republic an author, and above all a poet, was not an every-day article. True, old Dr. Smith, the brother of the historian, and once a chemical professor in King's College, surcharged with learning and love, who found Delias and Daphnes everywhere, might be seen in the public ways, in his velvet dress, with his madrigals for the beautiful women of his select acquaintance; but the buds of promise of the younger Low (of a poetic family) were blighted by an ornithological error:

Tis morn, and the landscape is lovely to view, The nightingale warbles her song in the grove. Weems had not yet appeared in the market with his Court of Hymen and his Nest of Love; Cliffton was pulmonary; Beach, recently betrothed to Thalia, was now dejected from dorsal deformity; Linn, enceinte with the Powers of Genius, had not yet advanced to a parturient condition; Townsend, sequestered amidst the rivulets and groves near Oyster Bay, had with ambitious effort struck the loud harp, but the Naiads and the Dryads were heedless of his melodious undulations; Wardell's decla

ration

To the tuneful Apollo I now mean to hollow! was annunciatory-and nothing more; and Searson, exotic by birth, yet domesticated with us, having made vast struggles in his perilous journey towards Mount Parnassus, had already descended, with what feelings is left to conjecture, by the poet's closing lines of his Valedictory to his muse.

Poets like grasshoppers, sing till they die,

Yet, in this world, soine laugh, some sing, some cry. The Mohawk reviewers, as John Davis called the then critics of our city, thought, with the old saying, that "where there is so much smoke, there must be some fire." But it is no longer questionable, that our Castalian font was often dry, and when otherwise, its stream was rather a muddy rivulet than a spring of living waters. It needs our faithful Lossing to clear up the difficulties of that doubtful period of patriotism and of poetry.

ELIZA TOWNSEND.

ELIZA TOWNSEND was descended from an ancient and influential family, and was born in Boston in 1789. She was a contributor of poems to the Monthly Anthology, the Unitarian Miscellany, and the Port Folio, during the publication of those magazines, and to other periodicals. Her productions were anonymous, and the secret of their authorship was for some time preserved. They are almost entirely occupied with religious or moral reflection, are elevated in tone, and written in an animated and harmonious manner. They are not numerous, are all of moderate length, and have never been collected. The verses on The Incomprehensibility of God; An Occasional Ode, written in June, 1809, and published at the time in the Monthly Authology, in which she comments with severity on the career of Napoleon, then at the suminit of his greatness; Lines to Robert Southey, written in 1812; The Rainbow, published in the General Repository and Review, are her best known productions. She died at her residence in Boston, January 12, 1854.

Miss Townsend was much esteemed, not only for the high merit of her few literary productions

but for the cultivation and vigor of her mind, her conversational powers, and her many amiable qualities.*

INCOMPREHENSIBILITY OF GOD.

"I go forward, but he is not there; and backward, but I cannot perceive him.”

Where art thou?-THOU! Source and Support of all

That is or seen or felt; Thyself unseen,
Unfelt, unknown,-alas! unknowable!
I look abroad among thy works-the sky,
Vast, distant, glorious with its world of suns,-
Life-giving earth,—and ever-moving main,—
And speaking winds,-and ask if these are Thee!
The stars that twinkle on, the eternal hills,
The restless tide's outgoing and return,
The omnipresent and deep-breathing air-
Though hailed as gods of old, and only less-
Are not the Power I seek; are thine, not Thee!
I ask Thee from the past; if in the years,
Since first intelligence could search its source,
Or in some former unremembered being,

(If such, perchance, were mine) did they behold Thee! And next interrogate futurity

So fondly tenanted with better things
Than e'er experience owned-but both are mute;
And past and future, vocal on all else,
So full of memories and phantasies,

Are deaf and speechless here! Fatigued, I turn
From all vain parley with the elements;

And close mine eyes, and bid the thought turn inward.

From each material thing its anxious guest,
If, in the stillness of the waiting soul,
He may vouchsafe himself-Spirit to spirit!
O Thou, at once most dreaded and desire 1,
Pavilioned still in darkness, wilt thou hide thee?
What though the rash request be fraught with fate
Nor human eye may look on thine and live?
Welcome the penalty; let that come now,
Which soon or late must come.
Who would not dare to die?

For light like this

Peace, my proud aim,
And hush the wish that knows not what it asks.
Await his will, who hath appointed this,
With every other trial. Be that will
Done now, as ever. For thy curious search,
And unprepared solicitude to gaze

On Him-the Unrevealed-learn hence, instead,
To temper highest hope with humbleness.
Pass thy novitiate in these outer courts,
Till rent the veil, no longer separating
The Holiest of all-as erst, disclosing
A brighter dispensation; whose results
Ineffable, interminable, tend

E'en to the perfecting thyself-thy kind
Till meet for that sublime beatitude,
By the firm promise of a voice from heaven
Pledged to the pure in heart!

THE RAINBOW.

Seen through the misty southern air,
What painted gleam of light is there
Luring the charmed eye?
Whose mellowing shades of different dyes,
In rich profusion gorgeous rise
And melt into the sky.
Higher and higher still it grows
Brighter and clearer yet it shows,
It widens, lengthens, rounds;

Obituary Notice by the Rev. Convers Francis, D.D., of the Theological School of Harvard College; published in the Boston Daily Advertiser. Griswold's Female Poets of America.

And now that gleam of painted light,

A noble arch, compact to sight
Spans the empyreal bounds!

What curious mechanician wrought,
What viewless hands, as swift as thought,
Have bent this flexile bow!

What seraph-touch these shades could blend
Without beginning, without end?

What sylph such tints bestow?
If Fancy's telescope we bring
To scan withal this peerless thing,
The Air, the Cloud, the Water-King,
"Twould seem their treasures joined:
And the proud monarch of the day,
Their grand ally, his splendid ray

Of eastern gold combined.

Vain vision hence! That will revere
Which, in creation's infant year,
Bade, in compassion to our fear,
(Scarce spent the deluge rage)
Each elemental cause combine,
Whose rich effect should form this sign
Through every future age.

O Peace! the rainbow-emblemed maid,
Where have thy fairy footsteps strayed?
Where hides thy seraph form?
What twilight caves of ocean rest?
Or in what island of the blest

Sails it on gales of morn?

Missioned from heaven in early hour,
Designed through Eden's blissful bower
Delightedly to tread;

Till exiled thence in evil time,
Scared at the company of crime,
Thy startled pinions fled.

E'er since that hour, alas! the thought!
Like thine own dove, who vainly sought
To find a sheltered nest;

Still from the east, the south, the north,
Doomed to be driven a wanderer forth,
And find not where to rest.

Till, when the west its world displayed
Of hiding hills, and sheltering shade-
Hither thy weary flight was stayed,

Here fondly fixed thy seat;
Our forest glens, our desert caves,
Our wall of interposing waves
Deemed a secure retreat.

In vain from this thy last abode,
(One pitying glance on earth bestowed)
We saw thee take the heavenward road

Where yonder cliffs arise;

Saw thee thy tearful features shroud
Till cradled on the conscious cloud,
That, to await thy coming, bowed,
We lost thee in the skies.

For now the maniac-demon War,
Whose ravings heard so long from far
Convulsed us with their distant jar,

Nearer and louder soars;
His arm, that death and conquest hurled
On all beside of all the world,

Claims these remaining shores.
What though the laurel leaves he tears
Proud round his impious brows to wear
A wreath that will not fade;
What boots him its perennial power-
Those laurels canker where they flower,
They poison where they shade.

But thou, around whose holy head
The balmy olive loves to spread,
Return, O nymph benign!
With buds that paradise bestowed,
Whence "healing for the nations" flowed,
Our bleeding temples twine.

For thee our fathers ploughed the strand,
For thee they left that goodly land,

The turf their childhood trod;
The hearths on which their infants played,
The tombs in which their sires were laid,
The altars of their God.

Then, by their consecrated dust
Their spirits, spirits of the just!

Now near their Maker's face,

By their privations and their cares,
Their pilgrim toils, their patriot prayers,
Desert thou not their race.

Descend to mortal ken confest,
Known by thy white and stainless vest,
And let us on the mountain crest

That snowy mantle see;

Oh let not here thy mission close,
Leave not the erring sons of those
Who left a world for thee!

Celestial visitant! again
Resume thy gentle golden reign,

Our honoured guest once more;
Cheer with thy smiles our saddened plain,
And let thy rainbow o'er the main
Tell that the storms are o'er!

January, 1813.

SARAH J. HALE.

SARAH JOSEPHA BUELL was born at the town of Newport, New Hampshire. Her education was principally directed by her mother and a brother in college, and was continued after her marriage by her husband, David Hale, an eminent lawyer and well read man. On his death in 1822, she was left dependent upon her own exertions for her support and that of her five children, the eldest of whom was but seven years old, and as a resource she turned to literature. A volume, The Genius of Oblivion and other original poems, was printed in Concord in 1823, for her benefit by the Freemasons, a body of which her husband had been a member. In 1827 she published Northwood, a novel in two volumes.

In 1828, she accepted an invitation to become editor of "The Ladies' Magazine," published at Boston, and removed in con equence to that city. In 1837 the magazine was united with the Lady's Book, a Philadelphia monthly, the literary charge of which was placed and still remains in her hands. She has published Sketches of American Character; Traits of American Life; The Way to live well and to be well while we live; Grostenor, a Tragedy (founded on the Revolutionary story of the execution of Col. Isaac Hayne of South Carolina); Alice Ray, a Romance in Rhyme; Harry Guy, the Widow's Son, a story of the sea (also in verse); Three Hours, or, the Vigil of Love, and other Poems. Part of these have been reprinted from the magazines edited by her, which also contain a large number of tales and sketches in prose and verse from her pen not yet collected. Mrs. Hale's stories are brief, pleasant narratives, drawn generally from the every-day course of American life.

Her poems are for the most part narrative and reflective and are written with force and elegance. One of the longest, Three Hours, or the Vigil of Love, is a story whose scene is laid in New England, and deals with the spiritual and material fears the early colonists were subjected to from their belief in witchcraft and the neighborhood of savage foes.

In 1853 Mrs. Hale published Woman's Record, or Sketches of all Distinguished Women, from "the Beginning" till A.D. 1850. In this work, which forms a large octavo volume of nine hundred and four pages, she has furnished biographical notices of the most distinguished of her sex in every period of history. Though many of the articles are necessarily brief, and much of it is a compilation from older cyclopædias, there are numerous papers of original value. The Record includes of course many distinguished in the field of authorship, and in these cases extracts are given from the productions which have gained eminence for their writers. The choice of names is wide and liberal, giving a fair representation of every field of female exertion.

Mrs. Hale has also prepared A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations, containing Selections from the Writings of the Poets of England and America, in a volume of six hundred double column octavo pages, edited a number of annuals, written several books for children, and a volume on cookery.

IT SNOWS.

"It snows!" cries the school-boy-“hurrah!" and his shout

Is ringing through parlor and hall, While swift as the wing of a swallow, he's out, And his playmates have answered his call. It makes the heart leap but to witness their joy,— Proud wealth has no pleasures, I trow, Like the rapture that throbs in the pulse of the boy, As he gathers his treasures of snow; Then lay not the trappings of gold on thine heirs, While health, and the riches of Nature are theirs.

"It snows!" sighs the imbecile-"Ah!" and his breath

Comes heavy, as clogged with a weight;
While from the pale aspect of Nature in death
He turns to the blaze of his grate:
And nearer, and nearer, his soft cushioned chair
Is wheeled tow'rds the life-giving flame-
He dreads a chill puff of the snow-burdened air,
Lest it wither his delicate frame;
Oh! small is the pleasure existence can give,

When the fear we shall die only proves that we live!

"It snows!" cries the traveller-" Ho!" and the word

Has quickened his steed's lagging pace; The wind rushes by, but its howl is unheard Unfelt the sharp drift in his face;

For bright through the tempest his own home appeared

Ay! though leagues intervened, he can see

* Woman's Record; or Sketches of all Distinguished Women, from "the Beginning" till A.D. 1850. Arranged in four eras. With selections from female writers of every age. By Sarah Josepha Hale. New York: 1858,

There's the clear, glowing hearth, and the table prepared,

And his wife with their babes at her knee. Blest thought! how it lightens the grief-laden hour, That those we love dearest are safe from its power.

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'It snows!" cries the Belle,-"Dear how lucky," and turns

From her mirror to watch the flakes fall; Like the first rose of summer, her dimpled cheek burns

While musing on sleigh-ride and ball:

There are visions of conquest, of splendor, and mirth,
Floating over each drear winter's day;
But the tintings of Hope, on this storm-beaten earth,
Will melt, like the snowflakes, away;

Turn, turn thee to Heaven, fair maiden, for bliss
That world has a fountain ne'er opened in this.

"It snows!" cries the widow," Oh, God !" and her sighs

Have stifled the voice of her prayer,

Its burden ye'll read in her tear-swollen eyes,
On her cheek, sunk with fasting and care.
"Tis night-and her fatherless ask her for bread-
But" He gives the young ravens their food,"

And she trusts, till her dark hearth adds horror to dread,

And she lays on her last chip of wood. Poor suff'rer that sorrow thy God only knows"Tis a pitiful lot to be poor, when it snows!

JOB DURFEE.

JOB DURFEE was born at Tiverton, Rhode Island, September 20, 1790. He entered Brown University in 1809, and on the conclusion of his academic course studied law and was licensed to practise. In 1814 he was elected a member of the state legislature, and six years afterwards of the national House of Representatives. He dis

Jobsringee

tinguished himself in Congress by his advocacy of the interests of his state in the bill providing for a new apportionment of representatives, and by his moderate course on the tariff. He remained in Congress during two terms. In 1826 he was re-elected to the state legislature, but after a service of two years declined a re-nomination, and retired to his farm, where he devoted himself to literature, and in 1832 published a small edition of his poem of Whatcheer.

In 1833 he was appointed associate, and two years after chief-justice of the Supreme Court of the state. He continued in this office until his death, July 26, 1847. His works were collected in one octavo volume, with a memoir by his son, in 1849. They consist of his Whatcheer and a few juvenile verses, mostly of a fanciful character; a few historical addresses; an abstruse philosophical treatise, entitled Panidea, the object of which is to show the pervading influence and presence of the Deity throughout nature; and a few of his judicial charges.

Whatcheer is a poem of nine cantos, each containing some fifty or sixty eight-line stanzas. It is a ver-ified account of Roger Williams's departure from Salem, his journey through the wilderness, interviews with the Indians, and the settle

ment of Rhode Island. It is written in a very plain manner, and makes no pretensions to high poetic merit, but many passages are impressive from their earnestness and simplicity. The versification is smooth and correct.

ROGER WILLIAMS IN THE FOREST.

Above his head the branches writhe and bend,
Or in the mingled wreck the ruin flies-
The storm redoubles, and the whirlwinds blend
The rising show-drift with descending skies;
And oft the crags a friendly shelter lend

His breathless bosom, and his sightless eyes;
But, when the transient gust its fury spends,
He through the storm again upon his journey wends.
Still truly does his course the magnet keep-
No toils fatigue him, and no fears appal;
Oft turns he at the glimpse of swampy deep;
Or thicket dense, or crag abrupt and tall,
Or backward treads to shun the headlong steep,
Or pass above the tumbling waterfall;
Yet still he joys whene'er the torrents leap,
Or crag abrupt, or thicket deuse, or swamp's far
sweep

Assures him progress,-From gray morn till noon-
Hour after hour-from that drear noon until
The evening's gathering darkness had begun

To clothe with deeper glooms the vale and hill,
Sire Williams journeyed in the forest lone;

And then night's thickening shades began to fill His soul with doubt-for shelter had he noneAnd all the out-stretched waste was clad with one Vast mantle hoar. And he began to hear,

At times, the fox's bark, and the fierce howl Of wolf, sometimes afar-sometimes so near,

That in the very glen they seemed to prowl Where now he, wearied, paused-and then his ear Started to note some shaggy monster's growl, That from his snow-clad, rocky den did peer. Shrunk with gaunt famine in that tempest drear, And scenting human blood-yea, and so nigh, Thrice did our northern tiger seem to come, He thought he heard the fagots crackling by, And saw, through driven snow and twilight gloom, Peer from the thickets his fierce burning eye, Scanning his destined prey, and through the broom, Thrice stealing on his ears, the whining cry Swelled by degrees above the tempest high. Wayworn he stood-and fast that stormy night Was gathering round him over hill and daleHe glanced around, and by the lingering light

Found he had paused within a narrow vale; On either hand a snow-clad rocky height

Ascended high, a shelter from the gale, Whilst deep between them, in thick glooms bedight, A swampy dingle caught the wanderer's sight. Through the white billows thither did he wade, And deep within its solemn bosom trod; There on the snow his oft repeated tread

Hardened a flooring for his night's abode; All there was calm, for the thick branches made A screen above, and round him closely stood The trunks of cedars, and of pines arrayed To the rude tempest, a firm barricade. And now his hatchet, with resounding stroke, Hewed down the boscage that around him rose, And the dry pine of brittle branches broke, To yield him fuel for the night's repose: The gathered heap an ample store bespoke

He smites the steel-the tinder brightly glows,

And the fired match the kindled flame awoke,
And light upon night's seated darkness broke.
High branched the pines, and far the colonnade
Of tapering trunks stood glimmering through the
glen;

Then joyed our Father in this lonely glade,
So far from haunts of persecuting men,
That he might break of honesty the bread,

And blessings crave in his own way agair-
Of the piled brush a seat and board he made,
Spread his plain fare, and piously he prayed.
"Father of mercies! thou the wanderer's guide,
In this dire storm along the howling waste,
Thanks for the shelter thou dost here provide,
Thanks for the mercies of the day that's past;
Thanks for the frugal fare thou hast supplied;
And O! may still thy tender mercies last;
And may thy light on every falsehood shine,
Till man's freed spirit own no law save thine!
"Grant that thy humble instrument still shun
His persecutors in their eager quest;
Grant the asylum yet to be begun,
To persecution's exiles yield a rest;
Let ages after ages take the boon,

And in soul-liberty fore'er be blest-
Grant that I live until this task be done,
And then, O Lord, receive me as thine own!"

LEVI WOODBURY.

LEVI WOODBURY was born at Francestown, New Hampshire, December 22, 1789. After receiving an excellent preliminary education, he entered Dartmouth College. On the completion of his course in 1809, he studied law at the celebrated Litchfield school, commenced practice in his native village, and rapidly rose to such eminence that in 1816 he was appointed one of the Judges. of the Superior Court of his State.

In 1823 he was elected Governor, and in 1825 a member of the House of Representatives, where he was made Speaker, and soon after chosen Senator. In May, 1831, he was made Secretary of the Navy by President Jackson, and in 1834 Secretary of the Treasury. In 1841 he was a second time chosen Senator, and in 1845 became one of the Associated Judges of the Supreme Court. He died at his residence in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, September 4, 1851.

His political, judicial, and literary writings were collected in 1852 in three large octavo volumes, a volume being devoted to each, and a portion only of his productions of either class given. The first volume contains speeches and reports delivered in Congress as Governor, and in the deliberative assembly of his State, with "occasional letters and speeches on important topics." An Appendix furnishes us with specimens of his political addres-es at popular meetings. The second volume is made up of Arguments and Charges. The third contains Addresses on the Importance of Science in the Arts, the Promotion and Uses of Science, the Remedies for Certain Defects in American Education; on Progress; on Historical Inquiries. The style in these is clear and efficient; the argument ingenious and practical.

MEANS AND MOTIVES IN AMERICAN EDUCATION-FROM THE ADDRESS ON THE REMEDIES FOR DEFECTS IN EDUCATION.

Print, if possible, beyond even the thirty sheets by a steam press now executed in the time one was

formerly struck off. Go, also, beyond the present gain in their distribution over much of the world by improvements in the locomotive and the steamboat, so as to accomplish like results at far less than the former cost. Promote the discovery of still further materials than rags, bark, or straw, for the wonderful fabric of paper,-used, not merely as the ornament of our drawing-rooms, the preserver of history, the organ of intercourse between both distant places and distant ages, the medium of business, the evidence of property, the record of legislation, and in all ranks the faithful messenger of thought and affection; but, above all, the universal instrument of instruction. Reduce still further, by new inventions, the already low price of manufacturing paper. Render types also cheaper, as well as more durable. And, in short, set no boundaries and prostrate all barriers whatever to the enterprise of the human mind, in devising greater facilities for its own progress. Next to these considerations, new means might well be adopted to improve the quality of those books which are in most common use. This could be accomplished by greater attention to their practical tendency and suitableness to the times in which we live, and the public wants which exist under our peculiar institutions, whether social or political. The highest intellects might beneficially descend, at times, to labor in writing for the humblest spheres of letters and life. In cases of long and obvious deficiencies in books designed for particular branches of instruction, boards of education might well confer premiums for better compilations. Such boards might also, with advantage, strive to multiply institutions particularly intended to prepare more efficient teachers, female as well as male. In short, the fountains must always be watched, in order to insure pure streams; and the dew which descends nightly on every object, and in all places, however lowly, is more useful than a single shower confined to a limited range of country. We must take paternal care of the elements on which all at first feed; and if in these modes we seek with earnestness the improvement of the many, we help to protect the property and persons of the favoured few as much as we elevate the character and conduct of all situated in the more retired walks of society. There is another powerful motive for exertion, even by the higher classes, to advance the better education of the masses. It is this: the wealthy, for instance, can clearly foresee that, by the revolutions of fortune's wheel, their own children, or grandchildren, are in time likely to become indigent, so as to be the immediate recipients of favor under any system of free education, and thus may be assisted to attain once more rank and riches. Nor should the talented be parsimonious in like efforts, because a degeneracy of intellect, not unusual after high developments in a family, may plunge their posterity into ignorance and want, where some untaught Addison or "mute inglorious Milton" might, after a few generations, reappear, but never instruct or delight the age, unless assisted at first by opportunities and means furnished through a system like this. All which is thus bestowed will likewise prove, not only an inheritance for some of the offspring of the favored classes, but a more durable one than most of those honors and riches, endeavored so often, but fruitlessly, to be transmitted. It is true that vicissitudes seem impressed on almost everything human,-painful, heartrending vicissitudes,-which the fortunate dread, and would mitigate, if not able to avert. But they belong less to systems than to families or individuals, and can be obviated best by permanent plans to spread stores of intellectual wealth, constantly and freely, around

all.

VOL. II.-9

SAMUEL II. TURNER

Was born in Philadelphia, January 23, 1790, the son of the Rev. Joseph Turner. He took his degree at the University of Pennsylvania in 1807. He was ordained deacon in the Protestant Episcopal Church by Bishop White in 1811, and the next year becaine settled in a parish in Chestertown, Kent county, Maryland. He returned to Philadelphia in 1817, and, October 7, 1818, was appointed Professor of Historic Theology in the General Theological Seminary at New York, where he has since resided, attached to that institution, with the exception of an interval in 1820 and 1821, which he passed at New Haven. In the last year he was appointed Professor of Biblical Learning and the Interpretation of Scripture, in the Seminary. In 1831 he was chosen Professor of the Hebrew Language and Literature in Columbia College.

His life has been almost exclusively passed in the occupations of a scholar engaged in the work of instruction: but he has also given the public numerous important books. He was one of the first to introduce into the country translations of the learned German critics and divines. In 1827 he prepared, with the joint assistance of Mr. (now Bishop) William R. Whittingham, of Maryland, a translation of Jahn's Introduction to the Old Testament, with notes, and, in 1834, a tran-lation of Planck's Introduction to Sacred Criticism and Interpretation, with notes.

A third publication, in 1847, exhibits Dr. Turner on the ground of one of his favorite studies, the Rabbinical Literature, with which he is particularly conversant. It is entitled Biographical Notices of Jewish Rabbies, with Trans. lations and Notes.

He is the author also of several theological writings Spiritual Things compared with Spiritual or Parallel References, published in 1848; Essay on our Lord's Discourse at Capernaum, in John vi., in 1851; Thoughts on Scriptural Prophecy, 1852.

He has of late been engaged on a series of Critical Commentaries on the Epistles of the New Testament, of which the volumes on the Hebrews and the Romans severally appeared in 1852 and 1853.

Dr. Turner has, in addition, corrected and prepared for the press Mr. Jaeger's Translation of the Mythological Fictions of the Greeks and Romans, published in 1829 by Moritz.

Dr. Turner maintains a high rank for his exact critical scholarship and the fairness of his writings, which have received the approval of those who differ from him in theological opinions.

THE UNIVERSITY OF VERMONT.

IN the first organization of this state, when the country was for the most part a wilderness, the Constitution, in 1777, included a recommendation for the founding of a University. There was some delay while negotiations were going on with the neighboring Dartmouth College, which received a grant of land from Vermont in 1785. The home project was, however, fairly set on foot in 1789, when Ira Allen, of Colchester, made a liberal offer of lands, labor, and materials. Allen was the brother of Colonel Ethan Allen.

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