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practical purpose, and that is unfit and unsafe for her sex. Had Mrs. Hamilton set ladies on metaphysic ground merely to show their paces, she would have made herself and them ridiculous and troublesome; but she has shown how they may, by slow and certain steps, advance to a useful object. The dark, intricate, and dangerous labyrinth, she has converted into a clear, straight, practicable road, a road not only practicable, but pleasant, and not only pleasant but, what is of far more consequence to women, safe.

Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton is well known to be not only a moral, but a pious, writer; and in all her writings, as in all her conversation, religion appears in the most engaging point of view. Her religion was sincere, cheerful and tolerant; joining, in the happiest manner, faith, hope, and charity. All who had the happiness to know this amiable woman will, with one accord, bear testimony to the truth of that feeling of affection which her benevolence, kindness, and cheerfulness of temper inspired. She thought so little of herself, so much of others, that it was impossible she could, superior as she was, excite envy. She put every body at ease in her company, in good humour and good spirits with themselves. So far from being a restraint on the young and lively, she encouraged, by her sympathy, their openness and gayety. She never flattered, but she always formed the most favourable opinion, that truth and good sense would permit, of every individual who came near her; therefore all, instead of fearing and shunning her penetration, loved and courted her society.

Much as Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton has served and honoured the cause of female literature by her writings, she has done still higher and more essential benefit to that cause by her life, by setting the example, through the whole of that uniform propriety of conduct, and of all those virtues which ought to characterize her sex, which form the charm and happiness of domestic life, and which in her united gracefully with that superiority of talent and knowledge that commanded the adiniration of the public.


BATTLE OF WATERLOO. Copy of a Letter from John Lewis, a private in the 95th Regiment of Rifle Corps to his Parents at Axminster. France, and not only that but in Paris, thank God.


I make no doubt but you have heard of the glorious news, and I suppose you thought I was killed or wounded, but yesterday is the first day we have halted since the beginning of the battle on the 18th of June, and my hands are swelled so with walking day and night, that I scarce can hold my pen. I do not know what the English Newspapers say about the battle, but, thank God, I am living; and was an eye-witness to the beginning of the battle --to the ending of it; but my pen cannot explain to you, por

twenty sheets of paper would not contain, what I could say about it; for, thank God, I had my strength and health more on the days we were engaged than I had in my life; so what I am going to tel: you is the real truth; but I think my brother Tom, as he is such a scholar, if he was to look in the Newspapers, he might see what officers was killed and wounded of the 95th regiment; we have but six companies in the country, and after the battle we were only 255 privates; two colonels, 1 major, 15 officers, 11 sergcants, and I bugler, were killed; my first-rank man was wounded by part of a shell through his foot, and he dropt as we was advancing; I covered the next man I saw, and had not walked twenty steps before a musket-shot came side-ways and took his nose clean off; and then I covered another man, which was the third; just after that the man that stood next to me on my left hand had his left arm shot off by a nine-pound shot, just above his elbow, and he turned round and caught hold of me with his right hand, and the blood run all over my trowsers; we was advancing, and he dropt directly. After this, was ordered to extend in front of all our large guns, and small arms was firing at the British lines in our iear; and I declare to God, with our guns and the French guns firing over our heads, my pen explain any thing like it; it was not 400 yards from the French lines to our British lines, and we was about 150 yards in front of our's, so we was about 250 yards from the French, and sometimes not 100 yards; so I leave you to judge if I had not a narrow escape of my life: as I just said, we now extended in front; Bony's imperial horse guards, all clothed in armour, made a chaige at iis; we saw them coming, and we all closed in and formed a square just as they came within ten yards of us, and they found they could do no good with us; they fired with their carbines on us, and came to the right about directly, and at that moment the man on my right hand was shot through the body, and the blood run out at his belly and back like a pig stuck in the throat; he dropt on his side; I spoke to him, he just said, “ Lewis I am done!” and died directly, All this time we kept up a constant fire at the imperial guards as they retreated, but they often came to the right-about and fired; and, as I was loading my rifle, one of their shots came and struck my rifle, not two inches above my left hand, as I was ramming down the ball with my right hand, and broke the stock, and bent the barrel in such a manner that I could not get the ball down; just at that time we extended again, and my rifle was no use to me; a nine-pound shot came and cut the sergeant of our company right in two, he was not above three file from me, so I threw down my rifle and went and took his rifle, as it was not hurt at the time. We had lost both our colonels, major, and two eldest captains, and only a young captain to take command of us; as for Colonel Wade he was sent to England about three weeks before the battle. Seeing we had lost so many men and all our commanding officers, my heart began

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to fail, and Bony's guards made another charge on us; but we made them retreat as before, and, while we was in square the second time, the Duke of Wellington and his staff came up to us in all the fire, and saw we had lost all our commanding officers; he, himself, gave the word of command; the words he said to our regiment were this-95th, unfix your swords, left face and extend yourselves once more, we shall soon have them over the other nili;—and then he rode away on our right, and how he escaped being shot God only knows, for all that time the shot was fying like hail-stones. This was about 4 o'clock on the 13th of June, when Lord Wellington rode away from our regiment; and then we allvanced like Britons, but we could not go five

steps without walking over dead and wounded; and Bony's hurses of the imperial guards, that the men was killed, was running loose about in all directions. If our Tom had been a litile behind in the rear,

he might have catched horses enough to had a troop or two like Sir John Delapole. Lord Wellington declared to us this morning, that it was the hardest battle that he had ever seen fought in his life; but now, thank God, all is over, and we are very comfortable in Paris, and I hope we shall remain here and have our Christmas dinner in Paris, for London cannot compare to it; I hardly know how to spare time to write this, for I want to go out about the city, for it is four o'clock, and the letters go off at five; but I must say a little more on the other side:-We was all very quiet irrquarters till the 15th June, when the orders came all at once, at twelve o'clock at night, for every man to be ready in one hour, and march at one o'clock; there we was all in a busile, agd off we goes, and it was not light, there was no moon: the orders was, that the French was making different moveinents on our left, about twenty-two leagues from us; mind the days of the month, - say this day, the 16th, we marched till eleven o'clock that night, which was twenty-two hours march for us the first day, and we walked thirteen leagues in that time, or thirty-nine English miles; being dark, General Clinton ordered as to lie down on the road-side for two hours; so we halted, and every man got half pint of real rum to keep up his spirits; we set off again at ten o'clock in the morning on the 17th June, and marched nine leagues, about four o'clock in the afternoon; then we was in front of the enemy, but the rain fell so hard that the oldest soldiers there never saw the like in their life, I really thought that heaven and earth was coming together. There was a few shots fired on both sides that night, but the guns would not

We was on one long high hill, and the French on another, facing us; there was a large wood behind us, and Lord Wellington told us to get wood, and make us large fires and dry ourselves, and get our guns fit by day, as the enemy could not hurt us. So we made large fires, and they was about four miles in length; and when the French saw it, they did the same, and it was one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw; and the

go off.

Dext morning, as soon as it was light, we went at it ding dong, and drove all before us, till yesterday, the 7th July, that we en. tered Paris; but ever since the 15th June, till 7th July, we have only laid down on the ground with our clothes on; so leave you to judge if I am not fatigued out.

Blucher rode by the side of Lord Wellington yesterday, when we entered Paris. As we was on the advance after the French army, every town we came to the people was all fled to l'aris, and had taken away what they could; and British, Prussian, and * Russian army, broke their houses open and plundered what was most good, and set fire to some. Wine was more plentiful than water, for all their cellars were full of wine, the same as Tucker's is full of cyder, and that was the first place the soldiers broke open. I have often been in cellars, and what wine we could not drink or carry away, broke in the heads of the casks and let it run about. We marched through towns as large as Exeter, and not a person to be seen, but all locked up and window-shutters fastened. There is, at this time, upwards of 700,000 soldiers in Paris and the suburbs: but, as for Bony and his army, it is gone, God knows where; when I have my answer to this, shall write you again. Hope to sleep sound to-night, so no more from your affectionate son.

John Lewis.

A MILITIA-MAN'S EXCUSE. The following is an exact copy of an application which was made, during our late war by a citizen of this state, to be released from standing his draft. Aprill the 11th duy 1814

En estate ment of me not being able to Stand my Draft where as i am troublet with an pain in my Right Side a lump apearingly as big as an agg, by times it apears as big twist often times i thing it is the Decay, i Can Stand no hevy work that requiers Stuping, and have been troublet with this paines severels years, i Can not Stand Riding with out i have my Self bound to kip it from Shaking, i Can stand no wet nor Lying out a home he at night, i implide to Doctor Franch and he told me that he could not qure me and no othere Doctor, because it is too Long Sence it took place and the Doctor, alout then that it was or woulde turne to the de. cay perhaps he said if you take good care of your Self perhaps it wood grow over with a little Skin, but i find my Self giting worse, and if i git wet and Çolt about home i am Sure to taking my bet for Some days, and besides this i greadly Troubled with Rumatisem painse, and if it Should Cost all my Estate, i would to the best of my knoledge not be able to stand one tower of duty where as the law Requiers Stout able men

Gentleman this what i have to Say

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After a long series of misfortunes, Tasso was invited to Rome, by pupe Clement VIII, to be crowned with laurels at a convocation of cardinals. He arrived in the eternal city, but died on the morning of the day appropriated to this memorable ceremony. The subject was selected, recently, hy the Royal Institute of France, for the grand prize for musical composition, and M. Dejouy, was the successful candidate. We have not seen the music, but the words are very beautiful. We transcribe them into the Port Folio, with the hope that some of our correspondents may furnish a translation,


Réveille-toi, mon ame; encor cette victoire!
Oppose à la douleur un genereux effort;
Et que pour un moment les rayons de la gloire

Percent les ombres de la mort.'
Quels chants frappent les airs! Quel eclat m'environne!
De la pompe des rois mes yeux sont eblouis.

Pour qui ce char, cette couronne!
A qui destinez-vous ces honneurs inouis!

En quoi! d'une palme immortelle
I'obtiens en ce jour le renom;

Un peuple entier m'appalle,

Et la ville eternelle
Prepare mon triomphe et consacre mon nom.


O toi, ma lumière, má vie,
Toi l'arbitre de mon destin,
Qui de l'amour et du génie
Allumas la flamme, en mon sein;
Auguste et tendre Eléonore*
Souris à ce glorieux jour:

Eleonora, sister of the duke of Ferrara. The passion which the poet cherished for this princess, was the cause of that profound melancholy in which twenty years of his life were consumed.

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