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was generally new and important. Yet the weight of his observations, obviously sprang from the integrity of the man. It was this trait in his character which elicited the observations of the distinguished Fisher Ames. "If I am absent, said he, "during the discussion of a subject, and know not on what side to vote, I always look at Roger Sherman, for I am sure if I vote with him, I shall vote right."

To the above excellent traits in the character of Mr. Sherman, it may be added, that he was eminently a pious

He was long a professor of religion, and one of its brightest ornaments. Nor was his religion that which appeared only on occasions. It was with him a principle and a habit. It appeared in the closet, in the family, on the bench, and in the Senate house. Few men had a higher reverence for the Bible; few men studied it with deeper attention; few men were more intimately connected with the doctrines of the gospel, and the metaphysical controversies of the day. On these subjects he maintained an extended correspondence with some of the most distinguished divines of that period, among whom were Dr. Edwards, Dr. Hopkins, Dr. Trumbull, President Dickerson and President Witherspoon; all of whom had a high opinion of him as a theologian, and derived much instruction from their correspondence with him.

If the character of a man's religion is to be tested by the fruits it produces, the religion of Mr. Sherman must be admitted not to have been of this world. He was naturally possessed of strong passions; but over these he at length obtained extraordinary control. He became habitually calm, sedate, and self-possessed. The following instance of his self-possession is worthy of being recorded.

One morning, as he called his family together, as usual, to lead them in prayer to God: the "old Family Bible," was brought out, and laid on the table. Mr. Sherman took his seat, and beside him placed one of his children, a small child, a child of his old age; the rest of his family were seated around the room; several of these were now grown up. Besides these, some of the tutors of the college, and it is believed, some of the students were boarders in the family, and were present at the time alluded to. His aged and now superannuated mother occupied

a corner of the room, opposite to the place where the distinguished Judge of Connecticut sat. At length he opened the Bible and began to read. The child which was seated beside him made some disturbance, upon which Mr. Sherman paused and told it to be still. Again he proceeded but again he paused, to reprimand the little offender, whose playful disposition would scarcely permit it to be still. At this time he gently tapped its ear. The blow, if it might be called a blow, caught the attention of his aged mother, who soon with some effort arose and tottered across the room. At length she reached the chair of Mr. Sherman, and in a moment, unexpected to him, she gave him a blow on the ear, with all the power she could summon. "There," said she, "you strike your child, and I will strike mine."

For a moment, the blood was seen rushing to the face of Mr. Sherman; but it was only for a moment, when all was mild and calm as usual. He paused-he raised his spectacles-he cast his eye upon his mother-again it fell upon the book. Perhaps he remembered the injunction, "honor thy mother," and he did honor her; not a word escaped him; but again he calmly pursued the service, and soon after sought ability in prayer, to set an example before his household which should be worthy of their imitation. Such self-possession is rare. Such a victory was worth more than the proudest victory achieved in the field of battle.*

Dr. Beattie and his Son.

DR. BEATTIE relates the following method, which he adopted, to impart instruction to his son:

He had reached his fifth or sixth year, knew the alphabet, and could read a little; but had received no particular information with respect to the author of his being. In the corner of a littly garden, without informing any person of the circumstance, I wrote in the mould with my

*The above anecdote was originally published by the author in his "L.ves of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence." It was related to him by a lady who enjoyed a long acquaintance with the family of Judge Sher

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finger three initials of his name, and sowing garden-cresses in the furrows, covered up the furrows and smoothed the ground. Ten days after, he came running to me with astonishment in his countenance, and told me his name was growing in the garden. I laughed at the report. and seemed inclined to disregard it; but he insisted on my going to see what had happened. "Yes," said I carelessly, on coming to the spot, "I see it is so- but what is there in this worth notice? Is it not mere chance?" and as I went away, he followed me, and taking hold of my coat, said with some degree of earnestness, "It could not be mere chance, for somebody must have contrived matters so as to produce it."

"So you think," said I, "that what appears so regular as the letters of your name, could not be by chance?" "Yes," said he, with firmness, "I think so." "Look at yourself," I replied, "consider your hands and fingers, your legs and feet, and other limbs; are they not regular in their appearance and useful to you?" He said they were. "Came you then hither by chance?" said I. "No," he answered, "that cannot be; something must have made me." "And who is that something?" I asked. He said "I don't know." I had now gained the point that I aimed at, and saw that his reason taught him (though he could not express it) that what begins to be must have a cause; and that what is formed with regularity, must have an intelligent cause. I therefore told him the name of the great Being, who made him and all the world; concerning whose adorable nature I gave him such information, as I thought he could, in some measure, comprehend. The lesson affected him greatly, and he never forgot it, nor the circumstances that introduced it.

Burning of the Richmond Theatre,
In the year 1811.

THE house was fuller than on any night of the season. 'The play was over, and the first act of the pantomime had passed. The second and last had begun. All was yet gaiety, ail so far had been pleasure, curiosity was yet alive, and further gratification anticipated-the orchestra

sent forth its sounds of harmony and joy-when the au dience perceived some confusion on the stage, and presently a shower of sparks falling from above. Some were startled, others thought it was a scenic exhibition. A performer on the stage received a portion of the burning materials from on high, and it was perceived that others were tearing down the scenery. Some one cried out from the stage that there was no danger. Immediately after, Hopkins Robinson came forward and cried out, "the house is on fire!" pointing to the ceiling where the flames were progressing like wildfire. In a moment all was appalling horror and distress. Robinson handed several persons from the boxes to the stage, as a ready way for their escape. The cry of "Fire! Fire!" ran through the house, mingled with the wailings of females and children. The general rush was to gain the lobbies. It appears from the following description of the house, and the scene that ensued, that this was the cause of the great loss of life.

The general entrance to the pit and boxes was through a door not more than large enough to admit three persons abreast. This outer entrance was within a trifling distance of the pit door, and gave an easy escape to those in that part of the house. But to attain the boxes from the street, it was necessary to descend into a long passage, and ascend again by an angular staircase. The gallery had a distinct entrance, and its occupants escaped. The suffering and death fell on the occupants of the boxes, who, panic struck, did not see that the pit was immediately left vacant, but pressed on to the crowded and tortuous way by which they had entered. The pit door was so near the general entrance, that those who occupied that portion of the house gained the street with ease. A gentleman who escaped from the pit among the last, saw it empty, and when in the street, looked back again upon the general entrance, to the pit and boxes, and the door had not yet been reached by those from the lobbies. A gentleman and lady were saved by being thrown accidentally into the pit; and most of those who perished would have escaped if they had leaped from the boxes, and sought that avenue to the street. But all darted to the lobbies. The stairs were blocked up. All was envelop

ed in hot scorching smoke and flame. The lights were extinguished by the black and smothering vapor, and the shrieks of despair were appalling. Happy for a noment were those who gained a window, and inhaled the air of heaven. Those who had issued to the street cried to the sufferers to the windows to leap down, and stretched out their arms to save them. Some were seen struggling to gain the apertures to inhale the fresh air. Men, women, and children, precipitated themselves from the first and second stories. Some escaped unhurt-others were killed or mangled by the fall. Some with their clothes on fire, shrieking, leaped from the windows to gain a short reprieve and die in agonies.

"Who can picture," says a correspondent of the Mirror, "the distress of those, who, unable to gain the windows, or afraid to leap from them, were pent up in the long narrow passages." The cries of those who reached the upper windows are described as heart-sickening. Many who found their way to the street, were so scorched or burnt as to die in consequence, and some were crushed to deatn under foot after reaching the outer door.

Add to this mass of suffering, the feelings of those who knew that they had relatives or friends who had gone to the house that night. Such rushed half frantic to the spot with the crowds of citizens from all quarters--while the tolling of bells sounded the knell of death to the heart of the father or mother, whose child had been permitted to visit the theatre on that night of horror.

"As my father was leading me home," said Mr. Henry Placide, "we saw Mr. Greene, exhausted by previous exertion, leaning on the fence, and looking at the scene of ruin. For all was now one black mass of smoking destruction. Thank God,' ejaculated Greene, 'Thank God, I prohibited Nancy from coming to the house to-night! She is safe!'"

Nancy was his only daughter, just springing into womanhood, still at the boarding school of Mrs. Gibson; and as beautiful and lovely a girl as imagination can pic

ture.

Mrs. Gibson and the boarders had made up a party for the theatre that evening, and Nancy Greene asked her father's permission to accompany them. He refused-but

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