census year, represent the number of deaths occurring within the year as 320,194, the ratio being as one to 72.6 of the living population, or as ten to each 726 of the population. The rate of mortality in this statement, taken as a whole, seems so much less than that of any portion of Europe, that it must, at present, be received with some degree of allowance. INDIANS.-The Indian tribes within the boundaries of the United States are not, as is well known, included in the census, but an enumeration of these tribes was authorized by an act of Congress, passed in March, 1847; and the census of the tribes east of the Rocky Mountains has been taken by Henry R. Schoolcraft, Esq., under the direction of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. These returns have been published, with estimates for the Indian tribes in Oregon, California, Utah, &c., and the result shows the total Indian population to be 388,229, to which may be added from 25,000 to 35,000 Indians within the area of the unexplored territories of the United States. The Indian population of Oregon is estimated at 22,733; of California 32,231; of New Mexico 92,130; of Utah 11,500; of Texas 24,100. In round numbers, the total number of Indians within our boundaries may be stated at 420,000. CENSUS OF 1840.-For the purpose of comparison, we here present a summary of the Sixth Census of the United States, June 1, 1840. It may be interesting to notice in this sketch of the progress of the United States, the population of the country comprising the original thirteen States, while under the Colonial Government, as far as the same is known. The first permanent colony planted by the English in America was Virginia, the settlement of which commenced in 1607. This was followed by the colonization of Massachusetts, in two original settlements; first that commenced at Plymouth in 1620; the other at Salem and Boston in 1628 and 1630. Maryland was settled by English and Irish Catholics in 1634; and New York by the Dutch in 1613. With the exception of Vermont, the foundation of all the New England States was laid within twenty years from the arrival of the first settlers at Plymouth. Hutchinson says that during ten years next prior to 1640, the number of Puritans who came over to New England amounted to 21,000. If this estimate is correct, the whole number of inhabitants in New England in 1640, taking the natural increase into consideration, must have been over 32,000. As the Puritans came into power in England, under Cromwell, their emigration was checked, and almost ceased, until the restoration, in 1660. Mr. Seaman, in his "Progress of Nations," has estimated the population of New England to have increased to 120,000 in 1701, and gives the following statement of the population of the original United States, while British colonies, estimated for 1701, 1749, and 1775: Whites. 284,036 500,438 Vermont 291,218 Connecticut 301,856 8,105 17 New York.. New Jersey 15,000 60,000 120,000 Delaware 5,000 17,342 3 472,254 3,598 331 42,924 172 16 In estimating the future progress of that part of the Continent of America within the boundaries of the United States, with reference to the march of population over the immense regions west of the Mississippi, it should be borne in mind that there is a large tract, of about one thousand miles in breadth, between the western boundaries of Missouri and Arkansas, and the Rocky Mountains, which is most ly uninhabitable for agricultural purposes, the soil being sterile, without timber, and badly watered. But the population flowing into California and Oregon, attracted by the rich mineral and agricultural that our States on the Pacific will form a most imresources of those extensive regions, leaves no doubt portant part of the Republic, and afford new fields for enterprise for many future years. In taking the Seventh Census of the United States, there have been engaged 45 marshals, and 3231 assistants. The aggregate amount appropriated by Congress for the expenses was $1,267,500. On the 30th of September last there were employed in the Census-office ninety-one clerks, who in November were increased to one hundred and forty-eight. THE IMMENSITY OF THE UNIVERSE!-How | distance of our sun from the nearest fixed star (con often has the grandeur of the conception been jectured by astronomers to be the star 61 Cygni) marred by the scientific puerilities that have been brought to its aid. Lecturers have astonished us with rows of decimals, as though these could vivify the imaginative faculty, or impart an idea in any respect more elevated than could have been entertained through an unscientific yet devout contemplation of the works and ways of God. They have talked to us of millions, and millions of millions, as though the computation of immense numbers denoted the high-ers) would present the same relation as that of two is estimated at being at least 60,000,000,000,000 of miles, or 600,000 diameters of the earth's orbit, or about sixty million diameters of the sun himself. Taking this for the average distance between the stars, although it is doubtless much greater, and supposing them to be equal in magnitude to each other, and to the sun, we have these most striking results. The sun and the star in Cygnus (and so of the oth est exercise of the human intellect, or the loftiest sub- balls of ten inches diameter placed ten thousand imities of human thought. Sometimes they would miles apart, or one a thousand miles above the North vary the effect by telling us how many billions of Pole, and the other a like distance below the South years it would take for a railroad locomotive to travel Pole of our earth. Preserving the same ratio, we across the solar system, or for a cannon ball to fly to might represent them again, by two half-inch bullets the widest range of a comet's orbit, or for the flash of placed, the one at Chicago, and the other on the top the electric telegraph to reach the supposed remotest of the City Hall in the City of New York; and so confines of the Milky Way. And so we have known on, until finally we would come down to two points, some preachers attempt to measure eternity by clocks less than a thousandth part of an inch in diameter, and pendulums, or sand-glasses as large as the earth's requiring the microscope to render them visible, and orbit, and dropping one grain of sand every million of situated at the distance of a mile asunder. Suppose years, as though any thing of that kind could come then an inch of the finest thread of thistle-down cut up to the dread impression of that one Saxon word-into a thousand sections, and a globular space as forever, or the solemn grandeur of the Latin secula | large as the sphere of our earth, occupied with such seculorum, or to the effect produced by any of those invisible specks, at distances from each other never mple reduplications through which language has less than a mile at least, and we have a fair repreever sought to set forth the immeasurable conception, sentation of the visible universe-on a reduced scale, by making its immeasurability the very essence of the it is true, yet still preserving all the relative magnithought, and of the term by which it is denoted. tudes, and all the adjusted proportions of the parts te Such contrivances as we have mentioned only each other, and to the whole. On any scale we may weary instead of aiding the conceptive faculty. If assume, all that partakes, in the lowest degree, of any such help is required for the mind, one of the sensible materiality, bears but an infinitessimal proshortest formulas of arithmetic or algebra, we con- portion to what appears to be but vacant space. In tend, would be the most effective. The more we can this view of the matter it becomes more than a probexpress by the highest symbol, the less is the true ability that there is no relatively denser solidity than grandeur of the thought impaired by any of that im- this any where existing. Even in the hardest and itating and ever-foiled effort of the imagination which apparently most impenetrable matter, the ultimate attends those longer methods that are addressed sole-particles may be as sparse in their relative positions, ly to it. Let us attempt such a formula by taking at once, for our unit of division, the most minute space ever brought into visibility by the highest power of the microscope. Let our dividend on the other hand, But not to dwell on this idea, there is another of a be the utmost distance within which the telescope has kindred nature to which we would call attention, alever detected the existence of a material entity. De- though it must often have come home to every serinote the quotient by the letter a, and let r stand for ous mind. Who can soberly contemplate the mighty the radius of the earth's orbit. Then r is the heavens without being struck with what may be called formula sought; and if any one think for a moment the ISOLATION of the universe, or rather, of the inon the immense magnitude of the latter part of the numerable parts of which it is composed. To the expression (), and at what a rate the involution ex-most thoughtful spirit a sense of loneliness must be a pands itself even when a represents a moderate number, he may judge how immeasurably it leaves behind it all other computations. The whole of the universe made visible by Lord Rosse's telescope actually shrinks to the dimensions of an animalcule in the comparison. And yet, even at that distance, so utterly surpassing all conceivability, we may suppose the existence of worlds still embraced within the dominions of God, and still, in the same ratio, remote from the frontiers of his immeasurable empire. as are, to each other, the higher compound and com ponent bodies which we know are dispersed at such immense distances as mere points in space. main, if not a predominant element in such a survey. The first impression from these glittering points in space may, indeed, be that of a social congregated host. And yet how perfect the seclusion; so that while there is granted a bare knowledge of each oth er's existence, the possibility of any more intimate communion, without a change in present laws, is placed altogether beyond the reach of hope. What immeasurable fields of space intervene even between those that seem the nearest to each other on the ce But let us return from so fruitless an inquiry.lestial canvas! There is another idea suggested by the contemplation of the heavens of no less interest, although presenting a very different, if not an opposite aspect. It is the comparative NOTHINGNESS of the tangible material universe, as contrasted with the space, or spaces, occupied even within its visible boundaries. The We may say, then, that whatever may be reserved for a distant future, this perfect seclusion seems now to be the predominant feature, or law, of the Divine dispensations. No doubt our Creator could easily have formed us with sensitive powers, or a sensitive organization, capable of being affected from immensely remote, as well as from comparatively near distances. There is nothing inconceivable in such an adaptation of the nervous system to a finer class of etherial undulations as might have enabled us to see and hear what is going on in the most distant worlds. But it hath not so pleased Him to constitute us; and we think, with all reverence be it said, that we see wisdom in the denial of such powers unless accompanied by an organization which would, on the other hand, utterly unfit us for the narrow world in which we have our present probationary residence. If the excitements of our limited earth bear with such exhausting power upon our sensitive system, what if a universe should burst upon us with its tremendous realities of weal or woe! It is in kindness, then, that each world is severed, for the present, from the general intercourse, and that so perfectly that no amount of science can ever be expected to overcome the separation. "He hath set a bound which we can not pass," except in imag. ination. Even analogical reasoning utterly fails, or only lights us to the conclusion that the diversities of structure, of scenery, and of condition, must be as great, and as numberless as the spaces, and distances, and positions they respectively occupy. The moral sense, however, is not wholly silent. It has a voice "to which we do well to take heed" when the last rays of reason and analogy have gone out in darkness. It can not be, it affirms-it can not be, that the worlds on worlds which the eye and the telescope reveal to us are but endless repetitions of the fallen earth on which we dwell. What a pall would such a thought spread over the universe! How sad would it render the contemplation of the heavens! How full of melancholy the conception that throughout the measureless fields of space there may be the same wretchedness and depravity that have formed the mournful history of our earth, and which we fail to see in its true intensity, because we have become hardened through long and intimate familiarity with its scenes. And yet, for all that natural science merely, and natural theology can prove, it may be so, and even far worse. For all that they can affirm, either as to possibility or probability, a history of woe surpassing any thing that earth has ever exhibited, or inhabitant of earth has ever imagined, may have every where predominated. The highest reasoning of natural theology can only set out for us some cold system of optimism, which may make it perfectly consistent with its heartless intellectuality to regard the sufferings of a universe, and that suffering a million-fold more intense than any thing ever yet experienced, as only a means to some fancied good time coming, and ever coming, for other dispensations and other races, and other types of being in a future incalculably remote. To a right thinking mind nothing can be more gloomy than that view of the universe which is given by science alone, taking the earth as its base line of measurement, and its present condition (assumed to have come from no moral catastrophe, but to be a necessary result of universal physical laws) as the only ground of legitimate induction. But we have a surer guide than this. Besides the moral sense, we have the, representations the Bible gives of God and Christ. These form the ground of the belief that our earth is not a fair sample of the universe, that fallen worlds are rare and extraordinary, as requiring extraordinary mediatorial remedies-that blessedness is the rule and not the exception, and that the Divine love and justice have each respect to individual existences, instead of being both absorbed in that impersonal attribute which has regard only to being in general, or to worlds and races viewed only in reference to some interminable progress, condemned by its own law of development to eternal imperfection, because never admitting the idea of finish of workmanship, or of finality of purpose, either in relation to the universe ǝr any of its parts. Editor's Easy Chair. EW-YORKERS have a story to tell of the winter just now dying, that will seem, perhaps, to the children of another generation like a pretty bit of Munchausenism. Whoever has seen our Metropolitan City only under the balmy atmosphere of a soft May-day, or under the smoky sultriness of a tropic August-who has known our encompassing rivers only as green arms of sparkling water, laughing under the shadows of the banks, and of shippingwould never have known the Petersburg of a place into which our passing winter has transformed the whole. Only fancy our green East River, that all the sum mer comes rocking up from the placid Sound, with a hoarse murmur through the rocks of Hell-Gate, and loitering, like a tranquil poem, under the shade of the willows of Astoria, all bridged with white and glistening ice! And the stanch little coasting-craft, that in summer-time spread their wings in compa nies, like flocks of swans, within the bays that make the vestibule to the waters of the city, have been caught in their courses, and moored to their places, by a broad anchor of sheeted silver. The oyster-men, at the beacon of the Saddle-rock have cut openings in the ice; and the eel-spearers have plied their pronged trade, with no boat save the frozen water. In town, too, a carnival of sleighs and bells has wakened Broadway into such hilarity as was like to the festivals we read of upon the Neva. And if American character verged ever toward such coquetry of flowers and bon-bons as belongs to the Carnival of Rome, it would have made a pretty occasion for the show, when cheeks looked so tempting, and the streets and house-tops sparkled with smiles. As for the country, meantime, our visitors tell us that it has been sleeping for a month and more under a glorious cloak of snow; and that the old days of winter-cheer and fun have stolen back to mock at the anthracite fires, and to woo the world again to the frolic of moonlight rides and to the flashing play of a generous hickory-flame. BESIDE the weather, which has made the ballast of very much of the salon chat, city people have been measuring opinions of late in their hap-hazard and careless way, about a new and most unfortunate trial of divorce. It is sadly to be regretted that the criminations and recriminations between man and wife should play such part as they do, not only in the gossip, but in the papers of the day. Such reports as mark the progress of the Forrest trial (though we say it out of our Easy Chair) make very poor pabulum for the education of city children. And we throw out, in way of hint, both to legislators and editors, the question how this matter is to be mended. As for the merits of the case, which have been so widely discussed, we-talking as we do in most kindly fashion of chit-chat-shall venture no opinion. At the same time, we can not forbear intimating our strong regret, that a lady, who by the finding of an impartial jury, was declared intact in character, and who possessed thereby a start-point for winning high estimation in those quiet domestic circles which her talents were fitted to adorn-should peril all this, by a sudden appeal to the sympathies of those who judge of character by scenic effects: and who, by the very necessity of her new position, will measure her worth by the glare of the foot-lights of a theatre! Mrs. FORREST has preferred admiration to sym pathy; her self-denial is not equal to her love of ap- a heavy stone was attached to her neck by a cord. probation. EUROPEAN topic still has its place, and Louis NAPOLEON with his adroit but tyrannic manœuvres, fills up a large space of the talk. It would seem, that he was rivaling the keenest times of the Empire, in the zeal of his espionage; and every mail brings us intelligence of some unfortunately free-talker, who is "advised" to quit "the Republic." Americans are very naturally in bad odor; and from private advices we learn that their requisitions to see the lions of the capital city, meet with a growing coolness. Still, however, the gay heart of Paris leaps on, in its fond, foolish heedlessness; and the operas and theatres win the discontented away from their cares, and bury their lost liberties under the shabby concealment of a laugh. Report says that the masked balls of the Opera were never more fully attended; or the gayety of their Carnival pursued with a noisier recklessness. Within a small tin box, in the pocket of her dress, carefully sealed, was found the following note: "My parents I have never known; up to the age of seven years, I was brought up by a good woman of a little village of the Department of the Seine and Marne; and from that time, to the age of eighteen I was placed in a boarding-house of Paris. Nothing but was provided for my education. My parents were without doubt rich, for nothing was neglected that could supply me with rich toilet, and my bills were regularly paid by an unknown hand. "One day 1 received a letter; it was signed, 'Your mother.' Then I was happy! "Your birth,' she wrote me, 'would destroy the repose of our entire family; one day, however, you shall know me: honorable blood flows in your veins. my daughter-do not doubt it. Your future is made sure. But for the present, it is necessary that you accept a place provided for you in the establishment of M; and when once you have made yourself This, indeed, is natural enough: when men are familiar with the duties of the place, you shall be denied the liberty of thinking, they will relieve them- placed at the head of an even larger establishment.' selves by a license of desire; and when the soul is "A few days after, I found myself in the new posi pinioned by bonds, the senses will cheat the man. tion. Years passed by. Then came the Revolution There is no better safeguard for Despotism, wheth- of February. From that fatal time I have heard noer under cover of a Kingdom or a Republic-than im- thing of my family. Alone in the world, believing morality. The brutality of lust is the best extin-myself deserted, maddened by my situation, I yieldguisher of thought: and the drunkenness of sensual-ed, in an evil hour, to the oaths of one who professed ism will inevitably stifle all the nobler impulses of to love me. He deceived me; there is nothing now the mind. As for political chat at home, it runs now in the channel of President-making; and the dinner-tables of Washington are lighted up with comparison of chances. Under this, the gayeties proper are at a comparative stand-still. The Assembly balls, as we learn, are less brilliant, and more promiscuous than ever; and even the select parties of the National Hotel are singularly devoid of attractions. Lent too is approaching, to whip off, with its scourge of custom, the cue of papal diplomats; and then, the earnestness of the campaign for the Presidency will embrue the talk of the whole Metropolis. While we are thus turning our pen-point Washington-ward, we shall take the liberty of felicitating ourselves, upon the contrast which has belonged to the reception of LOLA MONTES, in New York, and in the metropolis of the nation. Here, she was scarce the mention of a respectable journal; there, she has been honored by distinguished "callers." We see in this a better tone of taste in our own city, than in the city of the nation; and it will justify the opinion, which is not without other support, that the range of honorable delicacy is far lower in the city of our representatives, than in any city of their clients. Representatives leave their proprieties at home; and many a member would blush at a license within the purlieus of his own constituency, which he courts as an honor in the city of our Cæsars! We wish them joy of their devotion to the Danseuse, whom-though we count as humble as themselves in point of morals-we believe to be superior, mentally, to the bulk of her admirers. to live for; suicide is my only refuge. I only pray that those who find this poor body, will tell my story to the world; and, please God, it may soften the heart of those who desert their children!" The story may be true or not, in fact; it is cer tainly true to the life, and the religion of Paris: and while such life, and such sense of duty remains, it is not strange that a Napoleon can ride into rule, and that the French Republic should be firmest under the prick of bayonets. Ir appears that a Madame de la Ribossière has deceased lately in Paris, leaving a very large fortune -to the city of Paris-much to the ire, not only of her family, but of sundry friends, literary and others, who had contributed very greatly to her amusement. A French writer comments on the matter in a strain which, considering our duties as Editor, we shall not think it worth while to gainsay. Madame de la Ribossière was a lady of refined tastes, who derived a large part of her enjoyment of life from the accomplishments of artistic and literary gentlemen; how then, does it happen that she should not have given proof of the pleasure she had received by a few princely legacies? In the good old times (may they come again!) authors had different treatment. Thus Pliny, the younger, in writing to Tacitus, says, "I have re ceived the past year some twenty-five thousand ses terces more than yourself-in the way of legaciesbut don't be jealous!" The truth is, that a rich man rarely died in Rome, without leaving some token to the author who had beguiled the hours of solitude-enlarged his ideas, or consoled him in affliction. Cicero speaks of a As a token of French life and morals, we make large inheritance, which he possessed, of statues out this sad little bit of romance from a recent paper: and beautiful objects. In short, Roman literature A few days since, some boatmen upon the Seine and the history of antiquity grew out of those prince saw what appeared to be a pair of human feet float-ly endowments, which independence and strength ing down the stream; manning their barge, they hastened to the spot, and succeeded in drawing from the water the body of a young woman, apparently about twenty-five years of age, and elegantly dressed; of opinion did not fail to secure. But nowadays, says the French author, a writer is paid like a starveling; and picks up such crumbs of charity as fall only from the tables of the publishers. And he goes on pleasantly, to suggest a change in "But the charm is at length broken: a victorious this matter; which, if it gain footing on the other climber has transcended the point at which his preside of the water, we shall take the liberty of wel-decessors were arrested. Every one now does the coming very kindly in America. When the custom of leaving legacies to writers is in vogue, we shall take the liberty of suggesting, in our own behalf, such objects of art as would be agreeable to us; and such stocks as we should prefer as a permanent in vestment. Meantime, we suck our quill in our Easy Chair, with as much forbearance as we can readily com man. Editor's Drawer. was a dignified and graceful entertainment same such are men: they want but a precedent : as soon as it is proved that a thing is possible, it is no longer difficult. Our climber continues his success: farther and farther still; he is a few feet only from the summit, but he is wearied, he relents. Alas! is the prize, almost in his grasp, to escape from him! He makes another effort, but it is of no avail. He does not, however, lose ground: he reposes. In the mean time, exclamations are heard, of doubt, of success, of encouragement. "After a lapse of two or three minutes, which is itself a fatigue, he essays again. It is in vain! He begins even to shrink: he has slipped downward a few inches, and recovers his loss by an obstinate Twhich recently took place in the gay capital of struggle (applause! sensation !"), but it is a super France. Some two hundred of the "nobility and gentry," including a sprinkling of English aristocracy, assembled in a prominent hall of the city, to see a Rat and Owl Fight! And while they were getting ready the combatants, which went by sundry fancy or favorite names, they had a poet in leash, who "improvised a strophe" for the occasion! Think of a "poet" apostrophizing, in studied measures, twelve rats and four old owls! But that's "the way they do things in France." They have another very sensible and dramatic amusement there, which they call the "Mat de Cocagne." This is a long pole, of about eighteen inches diameter at the base, well polished and greased from top to bottom, with soft soap, tallow, and other slippery ingredients. To climb up this pole to the top is an eminent exploit, which crowns the victorious adventurer with a rich prize, and gains him the acclamations of ten thousand spectators. The " pretenders" strip off their upper gear altogether, and roll up their trowsers mid-thigh, and thus accoutred, present themselves at the bottom of the mast. Now just listen to a description of the operation, and reflections thereupon, and tell us whether you ever read any thing more "perfectly French" "The first who attempt the ascent look for no honor; their office is to prepare the way, and put things in train for their successors: they rub off the grease from the bottom, the least practicable part of the pole. In every thing the first steps are the most difficult, although seldom the most glorious; and scarcely ever does the same person commence an enterprise, and reap the fruit of its accomplishment. They ascend higher by degrees, and the expert climbers now come forth, the heroes of the list: they who have been accustomed to gain prizes, whose prowess is known, and whose fame is established since many seasons. They do not expend their strength in the beginning; they climb up gently, and patiently, and modestly, and repose from time to time; and they carry, as is permitted, a little sack at their girdle, filled with ashes to neutralize the grease and render it less slippery. natural effort, and-his last. Soon after a murmur is heard from the crowd below, half raillery and half compassion, and the poor adventurer slides down, mortified and exhausted, upon the earth' "So a courtier, having planned from his youth his career of ambition, struggles up the ladder, lubric and precipitous, to the top-to the very consummation of his hopes, and then falls back into the rubbish from which he has issued; and they who envied his fortune, now rejoice in his fall. What lessons of philosophy in a greasy pole! What 'moral reflections in a spectacle so empty to the common world' What wholesome sermons are here upon the vanity of human hopes, the disappointments of ambition, and the difficulties of success in the slippery paths of fortune and human greatness! But the very defeat of the last adventurer has shown the possibility of success, and prepared the way for his successor, who mounts up and perches on the summit of the mast, bears off the crown, and descends amidst the shouts and applause of the multitude. It is Americus Vespucius who bears away from Columbus the recompense of his toils!" So much for climbing a greased pole in reflective, philosophical Paris! an INQUISITIVENESS has been well described as itch for prying into other people's affairs, to the neg lect of our own; an ignorant hankering after all such knowledge as is not worth knowing; a curiosity to learn things that are not at all curious." People of this stamp would rather be "put to the question" than not to ask questions. Silence is torture to them. A genuine quidnunc prefers even false news to no news; he prides himself upon having the first information of things that never happened. Yankees are supposed to have attained the greatest art in parrying inquisitiveness, but there is a story extant of a "Londoner" on his travels in the provinces, who rather eclipses the cunning "Yankee Pediler." In traveling post, says the narrator, he was obliged to stop at a village to replace a shoe which his horse had lost; when the "Paul Pry" of the place bustled up to the carriage-window, and without waiting for the ceremony of an introduction, said: 66 Good-morning, sir. Horse cast a shoe I see. I suppose, sir, you are going to-?" Here he paused, expecting the name of the place to be supplied; but the gentleman answered: "You are quite right; I generally go there at this "All efforts, however, for a long time prove ineffectual. There seems to be an ultimate point, which no one can scan, the measure and term of human strength; and to overreach it is at last deemed impossible. Now and then a pretender essays his awkward limbs, and reaching scarce half way even to this point, falls back clumsily amidst the hisses and laughter of the spectators; so in the world em-season." pirical pretension comes out into notoriety for a moment only to return with ridicule and scorn to its enginal obscurity. "Ay-ahem!-do you? And no doubt you are now come from-?" Right again, sır; I live there." |