Harper's School and College Text-books Professor Hackley's Mathematical Series. A TREATISE ON ALGEBRA. Containing the latest Im- | AN ELEMENTARY COURSE OF GEOMETRY, for the provements. 8vo, Sheep. $150. Use of Schools and Colleges. 12mo, Sheep. 75 cents. A SCHOOL ALGEBRA. 8vo, Muslin. 75 cents Professor Boyd's Academical Works. ECLECTIC MORAL PHILOSOPHY. Prepared for Liter- | ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC AND LITERARY CRITIary Institutions, &c. 18mo, Sheep, 874 cts.; Muslin, 75 cts. CISM. 12mo, half Bound. 50 cents. Professor Draper's Philosophical Works. A TEXT-BOOK OF CHEMISTRY. With nearly 300 I1- A TEXT-BOOK OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. Containing the most recent Discoveries and Facts, compiled from the best Authorities. With nearly 400 Illustrations. 12mo, Sheep, 75 cents. Professor Upham's Philosophical Series. ELEMENTS OF MENTAL PHILOSOPHY. 2 vols. | PHILOSOPHICAL AND PRACTICAL TREATISE ON AN ABRIDGMENT of the Above, by the Author. 12mo, OUTLINES OF IMPERFECT AND DISORDERED Dictionaries and Works of Reference. A LATIN-ENGLISH LEXICON, from the new German GLISH LEXICON. With Additions, &c., by H. DRIS- ENGLISH SYNONYMS EXPLAINED. With Illustra tions and Explanations. By G. CRABBE, M.A. 8vo, THE NORTH AMERICAN ATLAS. Containing 36 Folio Miscellaneous Works. RENWICK'S FIRST PRINCIPLES OF CHEMISTRY. | ABERCROMBIE'S PHILOSOPHY OF THE MORAL AN ELEMENTARY TREATISE ON MECHANICS. ELEMENTS OF LOGIC. By R. WHATELY, D.D. 18mo, ELEMENTS OF RHETORIC. Complete. By R. WHATE- A FIRST BOOK IN SPANISH. Adapted to every Class HOBART'S ANALYSIS OF BUTLER'S ANALOGY OF RELIGION. Also, CRAUFORD'S Questions for Examination. Revised, &c., by C. E. WEST. 18mo, Muslin. 40 cents. SCHMITZ'S HISTORY OF ROME. With Questions, by PLATO AGAINST THE ATHEISTS; or, the Tenth HEMPEL'S GRAMMAR OF THE GERMAN LAN- ELEMENTS OF ALGEBRA, embracing the Theory and For a great variety of Valuable School Books, in addition to the above, see Catalogue of H. & B EDITORIAL. Prediction of First Eclipse.. .114 Brothers Cheeryble. ORIGINAL POETRY. The Dirges of "Long Ago." BY MISS LUCY A. RANDALL. The breezes of Autumn go wailing by, It is singing in sorrow of "long ago!" O sad is the song of the Autumn breeze, As it sweeps through the branches of leafless trees, For beautiful shadows gone by, it grieves. .121 .122 .125 PREDICTION OF THE FIRST ECLIPSE. BY PROF. 0. MITCHELL. To those who have given but little attention to the .124 subject, even in our own day, with all the aids of .127 modern science, the prediction of an eclipse, seems sufficiently mysterious and unintelligible. How then it was possible, thousands of years ago, to accomplish this same great object, without any just views of the structure of the system, seems utterly incredible.Follow me, then, while I attempt to reveal the train of reasoning which led to the prediction of the first eclipse of the sun, the most daring prophecy ever made by human genius. Follow, in imagination, this bold interrogator of the skies to his solitary mountain summit-withdrawn from the world-surrounded by his mysterious circles, there to watch and ponder through the long nights of many-many years. But hope cheers him on, and smooths his rugged pathway. Dark and deep as is the problem, he sternly grapples It mourns the bright birds, that have shunned its gloom, with it, and resolves never to give over till victory For the land where perennial roses bloom, The blossom of morning is bright and fair, So the Soul, when the spring of life is bright, But when Autumn comes, with its grief and gloom, Albany, N. Y. "Where there is the most love of God, there will be the truest and most enlarged philanthropy. No other foundation is secure. There is no other means whereby nations can be reformed, than that by which alone individuals can be regenerated. In the laws of God, conscience is made the basis of policy; and in proportion as human laws depart from that groundwork, error and evil are the sure result.--Southey. crowns his efforts. He has already remarked, that the moon's track in the heavens crossed the sun's, and that this point of crossing was in some way intimately connected with the coming of the dread eclipse. He determines to watch and learn whether the point of crossing was fixed, or whether the moon, in each successive revolution, crossed the sun's path at a different point. If the sun in its annual revolution could leave behind him a track of fire, marking his journey among the stars, it is found that this same track was followed from year to year, and from century to century, with undeviating precision. But it was soon discovered, that it was far different with the moon. In case she too could leave behind her a silver thread of light, sweeping round the heavens, in completing one revolution, this thread would not join, but would wind around among the stars in each revolution, crossing the sun's fiery track at a point west of the previous crossing. These points of crossing were called the moon's nodes. At each revolution the node occurred further west, until, after a cycle of about nineteen years, it had circulated in the same direction entirely around the ecliptic. Long and patiently did the astronomer watch and wait, each eclipse is duly observed, and its attendant circumstances are recorded when, at last, the darkness begins to give way, and a ray of light breaks in upon his mind. He finds that no eclipse of the sun ever occurs unless the new moon is in the act of crossing the sun's track. Here was a grand discovery.—He holds the key which he believes will unlock the dread mystery, and now, with redoubled energy, he resolves to thrust it into the wards and drive back the bolts. sand nights,—the gloom deepens, the ghastly hue of death covers the universe,-the last ray is gone, and horror reigns. A wail of terror fills the murky air -the clangor of brazen trumpets resounds,-an agony of despair dashes the stricken millions to the ground, while that lone man, erect on his rocky summit, with arms outstretched to heaven, pours forth the grateful gushings of his heart to God, who had crowned his efforts with triumphant victory. Search the record of our race, and point me, if you can, to a scene more grand, more beautiful. It is to me the proudest victory that genius ever won. It was the conquering of nature, of ignorance, of superstition, of terror, all at a single blow, and that blow struck by a single arm. And now do you demand the name of this wonderful man! Alas! what a lesson of the instability of earthly fame are we taught in this simple recital. He who had raised himself immeasurably above his race,-who must have been regarded by his fellows as little less than a god, who had inscribed his fame on the very heavens, and had written it in the sun, with a “ pen of iron, and the point of a dia To predict an eclipse of the sun, he must sweep forward from new moon to new moon, until he finds some new moon which should occur while the moon was in the act of croossing from one side to the other of the sun's track. This certainly was possible. He knew the exact period from new moon to new moon, and from one crossing of the ecliptic to another. With eager eye he seizes the moon's places in the heavens, and her age, and rapidly computes where she will be at her next change. He finds the new moon occurring far from the sun's track; he runs around another revolution; the place of the new moon falls closer to the sun's path, and the next year closer, until, reaching forward with piercing intellectual vigor, he at last finds a new moon which occurs pre-mond:" even this one has perished from the earthcisely at the computed time of the passage across the sun's track. Here he makes his stand, and on the day of the occurrence of that new moon, he announces to the startled inhabitants of the world, that the sun shall expire in dark eclipse. Bold prediction!erless, and cannot destroy the fruits of his victory. -Mysterious prophet! with what scorn must the unthinking world have received this solemn declaration. How slowly do the moons roll away, and with what intense anxiety does the stern philosopher await the coming of that day which should crown him with victory, or dash him to the ground in ruin or disgrace. Time to him moves on leaden wings; day after day, and at last hour after hour, roll heavily away. The last night is gone-the moon has disappeared from his eagle gaze in her approach to the sun, and the dawn of the eventful day breaks in beauty on a slumbering world. The name, age, country, are all swept into oblivion, but his prond achievement stands. The monument reared to his honor stands, and although the touch of time has effaced the lettering of his name, it is pow A thousand years roll by: the astronomer stands on the watch-tower of old Babylon, and writes for posterity the records of an eclipse; this record escapes destruction, and is safely wafted down the stream of time. A thousand years roll away: the old astronomer--surrounded by the fierce, but wondering Arab again writes, and marks the day which witnesses the sun's decay. A thousand years roll heavily away : once more the astronomer writes from amidst the gay throng that crowds the capital of Europe. Record is compared with record, date with date, revolution with revolution, the past and present together,-another struggle commences-another triumph is won. Little did the Babylonian dream that he was observ should rest upon this very record the successful resolution of one of nature's darkest mysteries. This daring man, stern in his faith, climbs alone to his rocky home, and greets the sun as he rises and mounts the heavens, scattering brightness and glorying for one who, after the lapse of three thousand years, in his path. Beneath him is spread out the populous city, already teeming with life and activity. The busy morning hum rises on the still air, and reaches the watching-place of the solitary astronomer. thousands below him, unconscious of his intense anxiety, buoyant with life, joyously pursue their rounds of business, their cycles of amusement. The sun slowly climbs the heavens, round and bright, and full-orbed. The lone tenant of the mountain-top almost begins to waver in the sternness of his faith, as the morning But the time of his triumph, long delayed, at length begins to dawn: a pale and sickly hue creeps over the face of nature. The sun has reached his highest point, but his splendor is dimmed, his light is feeble. At last it comes ! Blackness is eating away his round disc,-onward with slow but steady pace the dark veil moves, blacker than a thou-vocalists-Jenny Lind. hours roll away. Fair of the American Institute.-The twenty-third Annual Fair of the American Institute, opened at Castle Garden on the first of October. The exhibition will, it is said, be unsurpassed by any that have preceded it, for the variety, elegance and importance of the articles displayed. The amount of new and ingenious machinery on exhibition is very great, and will well repay a close examination. These fairs do great credit to American skill, enterprise and industry, and should be well patronized by the public. The established reputation of the present one, will no doubt attract an overwhelming attendance. An additional attraction is the prestige thrown around this spot, as the scene of the first triumph in America, of the most charming of Anecdote of General Jackson. Requiems of à Spirit o'er the Dead. · BY MISS S. 8. HAZARD. 'Twas night o'er the mountain for daylight had filed, queen, In the year 1811, General Jackson had occasion to visit Natchez, in the territory of Mississippi, for the purpose of bringing up a number of blacks, a part of whom had become his property in consequence of having been security for a friend, and the remainder were hands which had been employed by a nephew, in the neighborhood of that place. The road led through the country inhabited by the Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians, and the station of the agent for the Choctawa was upon it. On reaching the agency, he found seven or eight families of emigrants, and two members of the Mississippi legislative council, detained there, under the pretence that it was necessary for them to have passports from the Governor of Mississippi. One of their number had been sent forward to procure them. In the meantime, the emigrants were buying corn from the agent at an extravagant price, and splitting rails at a very moderate one. Indignant at the wrong inflicted on the emigrants, he reproached the members of the council for submitting to the detention, and asked the agent how he dared to demand a pass from a free American, travelling on a public road. The agent replied by asking, with much temper, whether he had a pass. "Yes, sir," replied the general. "I always carry mine with me; I am a freeborn American citizen; and that is a pass-port all over the world." He then directed the emigrants to gear up their wagons, and if any one attempted to ob- If earth, if heaven, if angels or if man struct them, to shoot them down as a highway robber. Setting them the example, he continued his journey, regardless of the threats of the agent. After concluding his business, he was informed that the agent had collected about fifty white men and one hundred Indians, to stop him on his return, unless he produced his passport. Though advised by his friends to procure one, he refused to do so; stating that no American citizen should ever be subject to the insult and indignity of procuring a pass, to enable him to travel a public highway in his own country.Like all travellers among the Indians, at that time, he was armed with a brace of pistols; and having added a rifle and another pistol, he commenced his return journey. When within a few miles of the ageney, he was informed by a friend who had gone forward to reconnoitre, that the agent had his force in readiness to stop him. He directed his friend to advance again, and tell the agent that if he attempted to stop, it would be at the peril of his life. He then put his blacks in order, and armed them with axes and clubs; at the same time telling them not to stop unless directed by him, and if any one offered to oppose them, to cut them down. Riding by their side, he approached the station, when the agent appeared and asked him whether he meant to stop and show his passport.--Jackson replied, "that depends upon circumstances. I am told that you meant to stop me by force; whoever attempts such a thing will not have long to live;" and with a look that was not to be mistaken, he grasp ed the bridle with a firmer grip. His determined manner had such an effect, that the agent declared he had no intention of stopping him, and he and his party were suffered to pass on without further molestation or interruption. He afterwards reported the conduct of the agent to the government, and he was dismissed from his agency. And lit up the spot where in slumber I lay At even-fall, seemed near the rural pile On which my head reclined; and then a voice, Whose ev'ry tone a note from heaven breathed, The sacred chord had touched; then list ye while I No spot is there on earth, ah! none so wild, I rose; the air around seemed dense, and o'er My spirit came; I seemed as one who'd quaff'd From spring of youth; my bouyant spirits knew No bound; the rocky cliff, the woody dell, And mountain side we climbed, till by A stream we came, that noiseless flowed along It in my hand; "Strike! strike!" he said, "with me The trembling strings we touched, and music flow'd "Thou art sleeping, old man, in thy dark narrow cell, 'Twas still again, and solemn silence reigned- Soft light stole through the clouds with beauty strange,! "Sleep, fond youth! yes, gently sleep, To guard thy cold, thy narrow bed, Flowers their odors yield to thee, Dream! ah, dream! we would not break Thy pure, thy ransom'd spirit home; And gems, from stream of life so deep, Shall deck thy brow." Daylight dawned upon the earth, and lit Ere the sky is tipped by the golden sun; We have come while the dew is on bush and tree To awaken sweet tones of music for thee. Like the bud of the morn, like the spray of the wave, Like the bow in the cloud, like wreath of the brave, Thou hast passed away, and thy spirit has fled To the land where dwell the voiceless dead. Thou hast gone as a dew-drop when morning is bright, Thou hast passed away as the curtains of night; To deck for a time earth's diadem. (From the Boston Traveller. Death and Burial of Neander. BERLIN, July 22. NEANDER is no more! He who for forty-eight years has defeated the attacks upon the church from the side of Rationalism and Philosophy--who, through all the controversies among theologians in Germany, has remained true to the faith of his adoption, the pure and holy religion of Jesus Christ -Neander, the philosopher, the scholar-better, the great and good man-has been taken from the world. Augustus Neander was born in Gottingen, of Jewish parentage, in 1787; studied at the Gymnasium at Hamburg; at the age of seventeen was converted to Christianity and baptized. After his conversion he went to Halle to study Theology under Schleiermacher. Having completed his studies, he was first appointed in 1811 private lecturer in Heidelberg, and in 1812 Professor at the newly founded University in Berlin. He was never married, but lived with his maiden sister. Often have I seen the two walking arm in arm upon the streets and in the parks of the city. Neander's habits of abstraction and short-sightedness rendered it necessary for him to have some one to guide the way whenever he left his study to take a walk, or to go to his lecture Generally, a student walked with him to the University, and just before it was time for his lecture to close, his sister could be seen walking up and down on the opposite side of the street, waiting to accompany him home. room. Many anecdotes are related of him illustrative of his absence of mind, such as his appearing in the lecture room half-dressed,-if left alone, always going to his old residence, after he had removed to another part of the city,-walking in the gutter, &c., &c. In the lecture-room, his manner was in the highest degree peculiar. He put his left arm over the desk, clasping the book in his hand, and after bringing his face close to the corner of his desk, effectually concealed it by holding his notes close to his nose. In one hand was always a quill, which, during |