with an agitated hand,-put my pistols into my pocket, and slipping quietly out of the house, hastened to the appointed spot. Albert was already waiting with his second, and mine had also preceded me. I scowled darkly on my opponent, but I thought he looked as if he pitied me. Why should he do so?-I did not want his pity! The pity of an enemy! Oh! no! I hated him the worse that he should look compassionate. The seconds examined our weapons, and ten paces were agreed on as the distance. We took our stations, back to back-measured the ground-reached the point-turned-and fired!!-Albert's pistol was first discharged, and ere I had time to know that I was uninjured, mine had taken its effect. The first thing that I beheld after the awful momentary shudder had passed, was the victim of my revenge stretched insensible on the ground!-Shall I pretend to describe my sensations at this moment? O! no! were I to make the attempt, I should do injustice to feelings, for which language has no parallel. He was wounded in the breast, and the crimson stream of life was pouring forth in torrents. With the first gush, my hatred died away.-I now felt that I loved him more than ever; but alas! it was too late! I threw myself on my knees beside him; I clasped his cold hand, and sat watching in mute and breathless agony for the appearance of that animation, which I feared would never return. How long I remained in this situation I cannot tell-for insensibility came to my relief, and when I recovered I found myself lying at home on my bed. I saw the anxious faces of my friends about me, but the memory of what had passed, was confused, dim and indistinct. I was in a state of high fever, and it was necessary I should be kept quiet. All my friends left me but my mother, and she sat silently watching at my bed side. There I lay-tearless and sleepless -and the remembrance of the direful incidents came upon me, one by one, in thoughts of burning agony. I tossed and turned and turmoiled on my couch, but there was no rest, and it seemed as if my whole body was wrapped in one sheet of flame!-O! that I could forget the horrors of that dreadful night! that I could cast them for ever into the depths of oblivion, where they should be remembered no more! After a while they gave me an opiate, and I slept-but sleep was worse than wakefulness, for it brought with it dreams so terrific, that the very recollection of them is anguish. Methought I was in some place of wild unreality, such as we often traverse in our night visions, and was standing there alone, with a naked poignard in my hand; presently there came one whom I knew to be my friend, and he smiled upon me; but I was full of strong passions, and his smile was like poison, and I seemed hurried forward by some invisible power, which I struggled to resist, until my dagger

had pierced the heart of the phantom before me. Then as I drew it away, I thought the blood bursted forth and covered me with a shower. At length he vanished, and I thought there arose in his place, a frightful demon, who seized me ere I was aware, and dragging me to the end of a dreadful precipice, made me look down into a hideous abyss, into which, every moment, he threatened to plunge me. I shuddered and awoke with a scream.

"After a long and dreary night, the day dawned, and then for the first time I thought to enquire of Albert. They told me he was alive. With the word, hope come to my pillow, and I enjoyed a short and quiet slumber. After this refreshment, I felt myself better, and I began rapidly to mend. The next day I was able to go out, and my first object was to visit my poor victim. I went into his chamber-he was lying on his bed, pale and languid; it was a sight I could scarcely endure, for my heart said within me "Thou art the fiend who has created this!" I sat down by his side-took his hand and burst into tears. I could not articulate a word. When I had become somewhat composed I said, "Albert, I hope". -But he interrupted me. "Oh no!" said he "do not hope! there is no hope now! it is too late; I cannot live-it will all soon be over! but I wanted to see you, Charles, before I departed, that I might ask your forgiveness!" "Forgiveness!" cried I, "forgiveness! it is I who need forgiveness at your hands, and it was that which I came to ask! Am 1 not your murderer? It is the injurer and not the injured, who stands in need of pardon. Oh! Albert! do not ask forgiveness of me!” "Yes, Charles, I must: I am deeply to blame for having accepted your call; had my pride only allowed me to refuse, how much anguish I should have saved you. For myself, it is no matter!" Albert! Albert! do not talk thus, you will drive me mad! I have nothing against you; every thing is forgiven; only say that you pardon me!" He raised himself gently in the bed, and opened his arms; I threw myself upon his bosom. "Yes, Charles, all that I have to pardon in thee is past, and as we forgive each other now, so may we find mercy at the throne of Heaven!" These were his last words-he sunk quietly back upon the pillow-and shortly after was no more. It is awful to think how I stood tottering on the narrow isthmus between hope and despair. O! that I could blot that period forever from the annals of existence! I would not live it over, if by doing so I could purchase worlds.

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"I stood and gazed upon his cold and pallid form as he lay extended in death, and as I gazed, the world and all its pleasures seemed like vanity to me. Above all I could not help reflecting with intolerable anguish, how utterly insignificant had been the

cause of all the distress before me. A few idle words, unguardedly uttered, had done all this! And what were they at last? Merely the thoughtless effervescence of a ruffled temper! And yet insignificant as they were, they had quenched life-they had destroyed peace-they had blasted hopes--they had blighted prospects they had cut down the flower that ought to have bloomed for many a long year, in the midst of its youthful glory -they had made me the assassin of my friend! These were my own thoughts. tearing at the root of my happiness; while the bereaved mother, and the sighs and tears of mourning brothers and sisters were every moment fixing the arrows of remorse in my heart! Oh! what would I not have given, had I possesed the power to restore the life I had taken away!--But I am going beyond bounds; I did not intend to have carried my narration so far: but it seemed to be my duty to warn you of the horrors that await such a course as that I have pursued. From that time to the present, I have never known the sweet peace which I en- · joyed before. I have indeed derived some consolation from the remembrance that I obtained my friend's forgiveness; and I trust I have now also obtained it from a higher source; but the recollection of that period is a gloomy spectre that haunts me in · every walk of life, and its evil events have cast a deep shade over my existence. that will stretch forward even to the very verge of the grave! Pardon me, my young friend, for detaining you so long; but believe me, I have your welfare much at heart. I leave this detail without comment, trusting it may warn you against the commission of an error, which will bring with it unceasing repentance, and unconquerable misery. If it have the least effect in preserving you in peace and innocence, I shall then have the satisfaction of believing, that my many sufferings have not been entirely in vain."

"CHARLES WOODLEY."

"After reading this" said Henry, as he laid down the letter, "my views were entrely altered, and Fturned with horror from the project, which I was before in the very act of undertaking. The pen which I had taken up to write an acceptance to the challenge, I now used to endite an apology. An explanation followed in course--our disagreement was adjusted--and our friendship restored. What the result would have been had I acted otherwise, it is impossible to say; but there is reason to believe that the consequences of an opposite course, however they might have eventuated, would have been of a nature most truly deplorable and unhappy.”

0.

FOR THE AMERICAN MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

THE VALLEY OF THE MISSISSIPPI.

WHEN we survey the extensive dominion embraced by the Government of the United States, it is not without emotions of sublimity that the mind rests on the Mississippi, now acknowledged to be the greatest river of the World; nor without sensations of the beautiful, that it contemplates the fertile valley, whose thousand streams form that majestic river. If the celebrated Volney, was the first scientific traveller, who gave a general delineation of the basin of the Mississippi, it remained for American enterprize, in the progress of population towards the West, to investigate its resources, determine the extent and magnitude of its streams, and fix its boundaries. It must for ever be a source of pleasant reflection to the humane mind, that by far the greater part of that delightful country, has been annexed to the domains of the Union, by purchasing of its European claimants, as well as of its aboriginal possessors; and not by the rude grasp of war. This circumstance cannot fail to bring to our recollection, what must always remain dear to the memory of Pennsylvanians, the first treaty of the great founder of our State, with the original inhabitants of its native wilds, at once the basis of its early prosperity, and the boast of the philanthropist. The enquiry seems naturally to arise, is the valley of the Mississippi to assist in the perpetuation of those immutable principles which distinguished the founder of Pennsylvania, justice, toleration and equality of rights, the pillars of every good government; or is it to become a seat of despotism and a land of bondage, to the millions who will be spread over its surface to reproach the name of republicans, or reprobate the policy of their ancestors. These are questions of no common interest. The critical moment has perhaps, already passed, which fixes forever the future condition of a great part of that country; and the period is fast approaching, which may seal the miserable destiny of the whole. There is yet however, a gleam of hope to the friend of humanity, that the delusive influence of avarice may be withstood, and whilst this remains, neither patriotism nor religion will permit him to slumber. If he can in the smallest degree be instrumental in the removal of that delusion, in bringing to the light of reason, if not of religion, those who are about to lay a foundation for the misery of millions, to perpetuate the course of slavery to their

offspring, he will feel that reward of internal peace, which results from a conscientious discharge of duty to his fellow man. To this momentous subject let every heart be moved, and every pen directed, that is desirous of the future welfare of our country, and capable of assisting to shield it from additional polution.

When Louisianna was annexed to the United States, negro slavery already existed within its bounds, having been introdused by that same European policy which had rendered it the bane of the Colonies of Great Britain, in North America. As however, the population of that country was small, it was fondly hoped by those who considered the manner of its annexation as auspicious to its future happiness, that the principles on which our revolution was founded, and the declared sentiments of its fathers in relation to slavery, would so far influence legislative proceedings, as to prevent its extension to the States which might be expected to arise out of that extensive territory. Had it been believed at the time of its purchase, that Louisianna was to become a nursery for slave-holding States, that it was to prove instrumental in fostering the greatest stigma on our republican institutions, in bringing to maturity that enemy most likely to produce their eventual destruction, by severing into adverse elements that beautiful system of Union, the most perfect of human wisdom for the promotion of human happiness which the world has ever witnessed; the voice of Columbia's Sons would have been raised in peals of thunder against it, and the delusive influence of interest would have been sacrificed on the altar of patriotism. The time, however, had not arrived which brought fully into view the probable consequences of this annexation; nor did it arrive until the question of receiving into the fraternity of States, the Territory of Missouri, was presented to the consideration of the Legislature of the Union. Missouri may with propriety be considered the first born of a new marriage contract, and its birth gave rise to that ever memorable struggle which has apparently fixed the condition of all the future offspring. The latitude of 36° 3' N. was established as the line, imaginary indeed, between those embryo States which on the one side are to be brought forth with the fair and unsullied aspect of republicanism; on the other with the indeliable stigma of slavery. Charity would lead us to hope that the sacrifice of principle which accompanied the establishment of such a line, was not made without the fullest conviction, not only that the happiness, but the very existence of the Union, depended on it. Nothing short of the most imperative necessity could sanction such an unnatural arrangement, and if made under that circumstance, it was certainly to be presumed