the hickory (that of the old stock), and hard by the locust. These beautiful forest-trees have been so judiciously left and pruned, as not to conceal or smother what they were intended to shade and beautify; and make, with the cottages, especially when these are lighted up at night, altogether a fine panorama. Lord Morpeth and other distinguished foreigners have, in their admiration, pronounced the bath at the Warm and the White Sulphur springs-for arrangement and extent of accommodations, scenery, and health-giving qualities of the water-far superior to any similar resorts in Europe. The cabins are all of brick, or neatly framed, finished, and painted, with a nice piazza separately railed in for each. Many of them display handsome and chaste specimens of architecture. between the logs or boards are filled, entirely or partly, with moss or clay; the chimneys are formed of small sticks and covered with mud; the floor is the ground, which often serves for beds at night. The following is from a recent letterwriter: "Not long ago, I attended a funeral of an aged female slave. About the grave were gathered some two score of negroes; and as the coffin descended into the tomb, the moistened eye of every one bespoke the touched heart; and an old man, with half-choked utterance, said: 'Cry not, my friends, our sister has gone from us, but we mus meet her de oder side of de grave. De great Master has sent for her, and she is now at home. God grant we be dere too!' The chips made in constructing the coffin, were burned in a fire made for the purpose in the open air, as they believe that death will soon enter the family on whose hearth-stone they are burned. Several weeks after the burial the sermon is preached. Crowds of slaves attend, and all are treated abundantly to refreshments of every kind. "An old servant, who often speaks of the surrender at Yorktown, and of the scenes that were witnessed at the time by him—and who told me that he 'learned to read' when he went with his Travellers leaving Baltimore in the morning, by the railroad, reach Winchester the same evening; thence travel by post-coach, along a Macadamized turnpike, one hundred miles up the valley of Stanton; sup and lodge the next night at Cloverdale; and the second morning breakfast at the Warm springs. The warm bath is forty feet in diameter and six feet in depth, ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit, and withal clear as crystal and sparkling as champagne. A NEGRO CABIN.-There is consid-'young master to college'-now that he erable difference in the form, size, and materials of the habitations of negroes in Virginia, especially if we include those in the principal towns. That represented in the cut may be taken as a specimen of the largest and best kind ordinarily seen in the country. The negro huts are usually built in clusters; those for the family servants forming a quadrangle in the yard, and others being placed at a greater or less distance from the house of the planter, according to the extent of his estate. Most of them are built of logs or the bodies of small trees; the materials differ, however, in certain parts of the country; some of the poorer white people dwelling in huts of a similar description. The arrangements and furniture are of the simplest kind. The chinks is exempt from labor, spends his time in reading his bible, and in 'fighting his battles over again.' I often see him of a Sunday evening, surrounded by an audience of his own race, reading and explaining the Scriptures to them; and they, in the meantime, manifest their appreciation of the sacred word, by looks of the most active interest, and expressions of joy and comfort.” WELLSBURG, eighty-seven miles from Pittsburg, on the Ohio river, has a bank, a courthouse, five churches, with several manufactories, and about two thousand inhabitants. BETHANY is eight miles east from Wellsboro'. It is a small village, but is the seat of Bethany College, an institution with about one hundred pupils. POCAHONTAS.- No other Indian fe- | a boat, left it with his companions at male ever rendered such a service to a the landing, and went on toward the white man as Pocahontas, under cir-dwelling of Powhatan. This would, cumstances so well calculated to excite probably, have appeared only a bold admiration. All have read the simple narrative of her intercession to save the life of Captain Smith, at that critical period when his death would probably have led to the extirpation of his little suffering colony. But perhaps many have lost sight of one circumstance which is calculated to enhance its effect upon the feelings. We refer to the tender years of the heroine: she was a child of only twelve or thirteen years of age. From the accounts we have of the case, we see abundant reason to believe that nothing could have directed her in the course she pursued, but a strong natural dictate of humanity. Yet why she should have been so affected in that case, it is difficult to say, as it may be presumed, she had witnessed scenes of cruelty, bloodshed, and murder, among the savage race, and in the savage family to which she belonged. Many of the actions of Indians, we find on nearer acquaintance with them, are dictated by some of their strange superstitious notions. A dream, an unusual sight or sound, or some other trifle, they often believe to be connected with something which gives it importance. This is especially true of the men, whose dreams in their initiatory fasts decide some important point for life. We have no particular reason, how ever, to assign such a motive to Pocahontas, any more than to the celebrated Indian princess who figures so remarkably in the early history of New England—the wife of Mononotto, the Pequod sachem, whose refinement and dignity, as well as her humanity, excited the admiration of Governor Winslow, familiar as he was with the manners of the English court. It was in the gloomy year when the little colony at Jamestown (the first which survived the trials of the settlement) was reduced to such sufferings by the scarcity of food, that Smith, with the determination of relieving them, ventured among the Indians in the interior, and after proceeding up James river in step, if he had met with no difficulty; but we are so prone to judge of an act by its consequences, that when we see him falling into a snare, laid on a rock, and a war-club raised to dash out his brains, we are ready to call him inconsiderate and rash. He appeared to have retained his presence of mind through all his dangers, and by happy expedients twice obtained a short reprieve, viz.: by showing the savages his pocket compass, and by sending to Jamestown for medicine to cure a sick Indian. These and other circumstances may have had their influence on the feelings of the young princess. But, whatever was the cause, she behaved like a heroine; and not in one case only, or toward a single individual. By a timely message, sent no doubt with great personal risk, she warned the infant colony of the murderous plots of the savages. Through her intercession, an English boy, named Henry Spilman, was saved from death, and afterward rendered the colonists much service. So strong was the friendship of Pocahontas for the whites, that she left her home, and resided with the Patamowekes, whose sachem, Japazas, was a friend of Smith's, that she might not witness the death of English prisoners, whom she could no longer rescue from the bloody hands of her father. Strange as it may seem, however, she was sold by that sachem to Captain Argall for a copper kettle, as he thought her father's attachment to her might prevent him from prosecuting his bitter persecutions of the colony. Her father sought to recover her; but, before any arrangement was made for the return of the interesting captive, she gave her consent to marry an Englishman named Rolfe, who had long before contracted an affection for her. The character of Powhatan is a very marked one. His attachment to his daughter alone would be enough to vindicate the red race from the charge of being without natural affection. He at first opposed her marriage, but after ward gave his consent, despatched an | would be broken, cut off the limb. On officer to witness the ceremony, sent a Mr. Randolph's return, he at once disdeerskin to Pocahontas and another to covered the mutilation; old Essex was her husband, and maintained thereafter called up, and the reason demanded the most friendly terms with the col- for cutting off the limb. The old negro told his master he feared the window would be broken. Then,' said Mr. R., onists. Yet Powhatan refused to give his younger daughter in marriage to Gov-why did you not move the house?' ernor Dale, though solicited by him and her sister-saying to the messenger: "Go back to your governor, and tell him that I value his love and peace, which, while I live, I will keep. Tell him that I love my daughter as my life; and though I have many children, I have none like her. If I could not see her, I would not live; and if I give her to you, I shall never see her. I hold it not a brotherly part to desire to take away two children at once." The writer met John, the former body servant of Mr. Randolph, who treated him with great politeness. He says:— At my request, John directed us to his master's grave, at the foot of a lofty pine, just a few steps in the rear of the summer-house; the place was selected by Mr. R., just twenty years before his death, and by his direction his head was laid to the east instead of the west, the usual position. It was observed to John that his master had ordered his body to be thus laid, that he might watch Henry Clay. John replied that he had never heard him say anything of the kind. I suppose the position was preferred by Mr. Randolph because it is the Indian sepulchral posture; his descent from Pocahontas, the Indian princess, being one of the things he much boasted of. A rude unchiselled mass of white rock, found by him on a distant part of his Pocahontas was baptized, and received the name of Rebecca. In 1616 she made a voyage to England with her husband, where she was received with much attention. Her husband had just been appointed to an office in the colony, and was preparing to return when she died, at the age of twenty-two. Her only child, a son, was educated by his uncle in Virginia; and his daughter was the ancestor of the Randolphs, and sev-estate many years before his death, and eral other principal families of the state. JOHN RANDOLPH.- A writer in the Norfolk Beacon describes a visit to the grave of this remarkable man, and in speaking of his former residence, thus writes: “After a ride of two or three hours, we entered a forest of tall oaks, and were told by Mr. Cardwell that we were on Mr. Randolph's estate. Shortly the houses that were occupied by the great and eccentric genius appeared through the intervening trees, built up in the midst of the woods. Not a stump to be seen, not a bush grubbed up-all standing as if the foot of man had never trodden there. Mr. Randolph would not suffer the primitive aspect of things to be disturbed in the least. Not a tree, or a branch, or a switch, was allowed to be cut. During his absence in Europe, a limb of an oak, projecting toward a window of one of the houses, drew so near that old Essex, fearing the window used by him at the door of one of his houses as a washstand, marks the head of the grave. A huge mass of brown stone, also selected by him and used as a stepstone to mount his horse, marks the foot of the grave. These rocks were procured and kept for the purpose to which they are now appropriated, and particular directions were given to John on the subject. "I can never forget my emotion while standing over the unornamented grave of the gifted and eccentric Randolph. The tall, unbroken forest by which I was surrounded—the silence and gloom that reigned undisturbed amid the deserted place-the thought of the brilliant mind that once animated the remains then mouldering beneath the sod upon which I was standing-the vanity of earth's promises, hopes, and distinctions, impressed my heart and mind with a degree of solemnity and interest I was unwilling to dissipate." LIKE the other southern Atlantic states, the coast of North Carolina is uniformly flat, low, and sandy, but little elevated above the water's level, and generally covered with pine forests. It extends 320 miles; and the low, sandy region referred to reaches from 80 to 100 miles westward, to the hilly regions, forming an area of 23,000 square miles. All this, with scarcely an exception, is a dead level, with but few spots of good soil, and showing but little cultivation, although the live oak grows readily in some parts, and figs and some other fruits are easily cultivated in the most favored positions. One of the principal occupations of the inhabitants has ever been the collection of turpentine, pitch, rosiu, and tar, the first of which is a spontaneous effusion of the yellow pine when wounded, and the others the same substance in different degrees of inspissation, effected by the heat of fire applied to the trees when cut in pieces, and partly colored by smoke. This same business was carried on in many other of our states in their early periods, but in the most of them the supplies of turpentine have long failed, in consequence of the clearing of the pine land; but the vast extent of the terebinthine forests of North Carolina has perpetuated this branch of manufactures to the present day. It may be presumed that such a soil and surface, and such a situation, could not prove favorable to the prosperity of the people. The monotony of the landscape corresponds too nearly with the monotony of life and stationary condition of society, in which the difficulties of elevating habits or education are almost insurmountable. The hilly region of the state, which bounds the sandy region on the west, presents a marked and sudden change in climate, soil, and population. It oc |