munication through this district; while its pearl fishery on the Pacific, its purple, and its fertility recommend the comparatively short passage along the elbow of the river De Partidos, which encloses the town of Nicaragua, and unites the Pacific and the lake.

The temperature of Nicaragua is very hot, so as not to produce wheat, but it yields various articles peculiar to the climate, bountifully-excellent grapes, and other delicious fruits, cocoa, indigo, and cotton, besides various medicinal drugs, and especially the gum called carana. The forests afford large quantities of valuable timber of several species, and also various kinds of quadrupeds, and rare birds; but the soil is, however, unfavorable to sheep. The rivers, the coasts, and the creeks furnish an inexhaustible supply of fish of all kinds.

But it is not only to the peculiar commodities of Nicaragua that the projected canal would furnish access: it opens a career for carrying on an unbounded and most profitable commerce in all the various and rich productions of Guatimala; its inexhaustible forests of valuable wood, brazil, caoba, mahogany, logwood, and guayacan; its abundance of medicinal plants, fruits and roots; its profusion of gums and balsams, estimable for their fragrance, curative virtues or other uses; its multitude of vegetable and mineral productions that minister to the necessities and luxuries of life-its pepper, cochineal, saffron, sulphur, saltpetre, mother-of-pearl, tortoise shell, cordage, sailcloth and cotton; tobacco, indigo, sugar and cocoa; its forty or fifty genera of native and delicious fruits, which grow even on the mountains, so fertile is the soil, without cultivation; the beautiful varieties of its animal and floral kingdoms; and, lastly, the abundant productions of its mines, gold, silver, iron, lead, and calc.

SELECTED FROM MOORE'S LIFE OF SHERIDAN.

MR. PITT.

IN judging of the policy of Mr. Pitt, during the Revolutionary war, his partizans, we know, laud it as having been the means of salvation to England, while his opponents assert that it was only prevented by chance from being her ruin-and though the event gives an appearance of triumph to the former opinion, it by no means removes or even weakens the grounds of the latter. During the first nine years of his administration, Mr. Pitt was, in every respect, an able and most useful minister, and, "while the sea was calm, showed mastership in floating." But the great events tha

happened afterwards took him by surprise. When he came to look abroad from his cabinet into the storm that was brewing through Europe, the clear and enlarged view of the higher order of statesmen was wanting. Instead of elevating himself above the influence of the agitation and alarm that prevailed, he gave way to it with the crowd of ordinary minds, and even took counsel from the panic of others. The consequence was a series of measures, violent at home and inefficient abroad-far short of the mark where vigor was wanting, and beyond it, as often, where vigor was mischievous.

When we are told to regard his policy as the salvation of the country-when, (to use a figure of Mr. Dundas,) a claim of salvage is made for him,-it may be allowed us to consider a little the nature of the measures, by which this alleged salvation was achieved. If entering into a great war without either consistency of plan, or preparation of means, and with a total ignorance of the financial resources of the enemy-if allowing one part of the Cabinet to flatter the French Royalists, with the hope of seeing the Bourbons restored to undiminished power, while the other part acted, whenever an opportunity offered, upon the plan of dismembering France for the aggrandizement of Austria, and thus, at once, alienated Prussia at the very moment of subsidizing him, and lost the confidence of all the Royalist party in France, except the few who were ruined by English assistance at Quiberon-if going to war in 1793 for the right of the Dutch to a river, and so managing it that in 1794 the Dutch lost their whole Seven Provinces-if lavishing more money upon failures than the successes of a century had cost, and supporting this profusion by schemes of finance, either hollow and delusive, like the Sinking Fund, or desperately regardless of the future, like the paper issues-if driving Ireland into rebellion by the perfidious recall of Lord Fitzwilliam, and reducing England to two of the most fearful trials, that a nation, depending upon Credit and a navy, could encounter, the stoppage of her Bank and a mutiny in her fleet-if, finally, floundering on from effort to effort against France, and then dying upon the ruins of the last Coalition he could muster against her-if all this betokens a wise and able minister, then is Mr. Pitt most amply entitled to that name;-then are the lessons of wisdom to be read, like Hebrew, backward, and waste and rashness and systematic failure to be held the only true means of saving a country.

Had even success, by one of those anomalous accidents, which sometimes baffle the best founded calculations of wisdom, been the

immediate result of this long monotony of error, it could not, except with those to whom the event is every thing-" Eventus, stul. torum, magister”—reflect back merit upon the means by which it was achieved, or, by a retrospective miracle, convert that into wisdom, which chance had only saved from the worst consequences of folly. Just as well might we be called upon to pronounce Alchemy a wise art, because a perseverance in its failures and reveries had led by accident to the discoveries of Chemistry. But even this sanction of good luck was wanting to the unredeemed mistakes of Mr. Pitt. During the eight years that intervened between his death and the termination of the contest, the adoption of a far wiser policy was forced upon his more tractable pupils; and the only share that his measures can claim in the successful issue of the war, is that of having produced the grievance that was then abated-of having raised up the power opposed to him to the portentous and dizzy height, from which it then fell by the giddiness of its own elevation, and by the reaction, not of the Princes, but the people of Europe against its yoke.

SELECTED.

ANECDOTE OF SHERIDAN.

TOM SHERIDAN, (who to kindness of heart and sweetness of disposition added social talents, which, if not of the high and commanding order of his father's, were infinitely more agreeable to those who knew him) used to tell a story for and against himself, which, as it is a period, when story telling is quite admissible, we shall take leave to relate.

He was staying at poor Lord Craven's, at Benham, (or rather Hampstead) and one day proceeded on a shooting excursion, like Hawthorn, with only "his dog and his gun," on foot, and unattended by companion or keeper; the sport was bad-the birds few and shy-and he walked and walked in search of game until unconsciously he entered the domain of some neighboring squire.

A very short time after, he perceived advancing towards him, at the top of his speed, a jolly, comfortable looking gentleman, followed by a servant, armed, as it appeared, for conflict-Tom took a position and waited the approach of the enemy.

"Halloo! you Sir," said the Squire, when within half-ear-shot, "what are you doing here, Sir, eh?"

"I'm shooting, Sir," said Tom.

"Do you know where you are, Sir," said the Squire.

"I'm here, Sir," said Tom.

"Here, Sir," said the Squire, growing angry, "and do you know where here is, Sir-these Sir are my manors; what do you think of that, Sir, eh?"

"Why, Sir, as to your manners," said Tom, "I can't say they seem over agreeable."

"I don't want any jokes, Sir," said the Squire, "I hate jokes. Who are you, Sir-what are you!"

"Why, Sir," said Tom, "My name is Sheridan-I am staying at Lord Craven's-I have come out for some sport-I have not had any, and I am not aware that I am trespassing."

"Sheridan!" said the Squire, cooling a little, "oh, from Lord Craven's, eh ?-well Sir, I could not know that, Sir-I-"

"No, Sir," said Tom, "but you need not have been in a passion."

"Not in a passion! Mr. Sheridan," said the Squire, "you don't know, Sir, what these preserves have cost me, and the pains and trouble I have been at with them; it's all very well for you to talk, but if you were in my place I should like to know what you would say upon such an occasion."

"Why, Sir," said Tom, "if I were in your place, under all the circumstances, I should say-I am convinced, Mr. Sheridan, you did not mean to annoy me, and as you look a good deal tired, perhaps you'll come up to my house and take some refreshment?"

The Squire was hit hard by this nonchalance, and (as the newspapers say) "it is needless to add," acted upon Sheridan's suggestion.

SELECTED.

THE GRAVES OF A HOUSEHOLD.

THEY grew in beauty, side by side,

They fill'd one house with glee-
Their graves are sever'd far and wide,
By mount, and stream, and sea!

The same fond mother bent at night
O'er each fair sleeping brow,
She had each folded flower in sight-
Where are those dreamers now?

One midst the forest of the west

By a dark stream is laid;
The Indian knows his place of rest,
Far in the cedar shade.

The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one,

He lies where pearls lie deep;
He was the loved of all, yet none

O'er his low bed may weep.

One sleeps where southern vines are dress'd
Above the noble slain,

He wrapt his colors round his breast,
On a blood red field of Spain,

And one-o'er her the myrtle showers
Its leaves, by soft winds fann'd,
She faded 'midst Italian flowers,
The last of that bright band.

And parted thus they rest who play'd
Beneath the same green tree,
Whose voices mingled as they pray'd
Around one parent knee!

They that with smiles lit up the hall,
And cheer'd with song the hearth-

Alas for love, if thou wert all,

And nought beyond on earth!

BIOGRAPHICAL.

ORIGINAL.

ST. JOHN HONEYWOOD.

THERE are few individuals in society who have experienced the vicissitudes of life, whose histories would be entirely destitute of interest, or from whose experience useful lessons may not be drawn. Almost every one holds relations in life that are in themselves interesting and important; and the biographer who should raise the curtain that shuts out private life from the public eye, might hope to amuse, even though no important reflections should result from such exposure.

The subject of the memoir which we would now present to the public, has been too long gathered to his fathers for us to give any thing more than a mere outline, either of his private life, or of those traits of mind and character that make him and his memory respected, while many of his cotemporaries, born to better fortunes and fairer prospects, have been buried in oblivion.

St. John Honeywood was born in Leicester, Mass. Feb. 7, 1763. His father was John Honeywood, a distinguished Physician of his