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POETRY.
ANGEL VISITS.
BY MllS. HUMANS.
No more of talk, where God or Angel
guest
With man, as with his friend, familiar
used
To sit indulgent, and with him partake
Rural repast. Milton.
Are ye for ever to your skies departed?
Oh! will ye visit this dim world no more?
Ye wh'se bright wings a solemn splendour
darted .
Thro’ Eden’s fresh and flowering shades of
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daily tour of his agricultural concerns.
yore
Now are the fountains dried on that sweet
spot
And ye—our faded earth beholds you not!
Yet, by your shining eyes not all forsaken,
Man wandered from his Paradise awai;
Ye, from forgetfulness his heart to waken,
Came down, high guests! in many a later
And with the Patriarchs under vine or oak,
Midst noontide calm or hush of evening
spoke.
From you, the veil iof midnight darkness
rending, . ,
Came the rich mysteries to the sleeper’s
eye,
That saw your hosts ascending and descend
ing,
On those bright steps between the earth
and skv*
Trembling he woke, and bow’d o’er glory’s
trace,
And worshipped awe-struck, in that fearful
place.
By Shehar’s Brook ye pass’d; such radiance
wearing,
As rrtortal vision might but ill endure;
Along the stream the living chariot bear-
With itsfusrh crystal arch intensely pure!*
Aftd the dread rushing of your wings that
hour,
Was like the noise of waters in their pow-
Butinthe Olive-Mount, by night appear
ing,
Midst the dim leaves your holiest work was
done!
Whose was the voice that came divinely
cheering
Fraught w‘th the breath of God to aid his
Son?
Haply of t hose that on‘the inoon-lit plains
Wafted good tidings unto Syr.an swains.
Yet one more task was yours!—your hea-
lv dwelling
Ye left, and by the unseal’d sepulchral
stone
In glorious'raiment sat: the weepers tell
ing,
That He they sought had triumph’d and
was gone.
N ew have ye left for u« the brighter ‘hove,
Your presence lights the lonely groves no
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lie . ode upon iiis uums entirely unat
tended, opening his gates, pulling
down anil putting 1 up his fences, as be
passed, visiting Ills laborers at their
work, inspecting all the operations ol
his extensive agricultural establish
ments, and superintending them in
their progress, lie introduced many
and valuable foreign, as well as do
mestic modes oi improved husbandry,
shewing, by experiment, their practie-
the corsets so generally worn at pres- j meant is strong beer, which you rus
cut by the - better part oTcreatioi
are productive of the saine elfects
at by the - better part oTcreation, I tus make iu meat, A apparel, L liber-
.— fy, & T treasure—the literal is aecor-
B’-t may ve not, unseen, around us hover,
W ill gentle pvomptings and sweet influ
ence yet?
Though the fresh glory of those days be 0-
ver,
When, midst th” palm-trees man your foot
steps met?
Are ye not near when Faith and Hope rise
high,
When love, by strength, o’ermasters ago
ny?
MISCELLANEOUS.
Are ve not near, when sorrow unrepining,
Yields up bfe’s treasures unto Him who
gave!
When martvrs, all things for His sake re
signing,
|>ad on th“ march of death, serenely brave ?
Dream:-!—hut a deeper thought our souls
may fill,
One, one is near—a spirit holier stilll
* Ezekiel i.
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GEN. WASHINGTON.
HIS LIFE, HABITS, AND MANNERS.
Gen. Washington, during the whole
of both his public and private life,
was a very early riser. Whether as
Chief Magistrate, or the retired citi
zen, we find this man of method and
labor seated in his library from one to
two hours before day, in winter, and
at day-break, in summer. We won
der at the amazing deal of work
which he performed. Nothing hut a
method the most remarkable and
exemplary, could have enabled him to
accomplish an amount of labor, which
might have given pretty full employ
ment to the lives of half a dozen ordin
ary, and not idle men. A single ser
vant prepared his clothes, and laid
them in readiness, also combed and
tied up his hair; he shaved & dressed
himself, giving but very little of his
precious time to matters of that sort,
though remarkable for the propriety
and neatness of his apparel. His
lothes were made after the old fash
al utility, iiuu peculiar adaptation to
oul rural atlairs.
The tour of the farm might aver-
ageu'rom ten to fifteen miles per day.
lie rode in plain drab clothes, a broau
brimined white hat, a hickory switch
in Ins hand, and carrying an umbrella
with a long staff, attached to his sad
dle bow. Precisely at a quarter be
fore three, the industrious farmer re
turned, dressed and dined at three
o’clock. At this meal he ate heartr-
lj, but was not particular in his diet,
with the exception of fish, of which
he was excessively fond.
The afternoon was usually devoted
to tiie library. At night, Ins labors
o’er, the venerable citizen would join
his friends and family at the tea-table,
and e ljoy their society for several
hours—took no supper, and about nine
o’clock retired to bed. When with
out company, he frequently read to
his family, extracts from the new
publications of the day, and, on sun-
day, sermons and other sacred wn
tings. He would frequently, when
sitting withhis family, appear absent
his lips wcfdd move, his hand be rais
ed, and lie would evidently seem un
der the influence of thoughts, which
had nothing to do with the quiescent
scene around him. This peculiarity
is readily accounted for, since it mus.
be no very easy matter for one who
so long had borne the cares of pnbli.
life, at once to lay aside all thought for
others, and become content with in
dividual concerns.
Tbus, in the seldom varied routine
of useful industry, temperate enjoy
ment, and the heart-felt gratification
of domestic felicity, sped the latter
days of the Father of bis Country.
On Sunday, no visiters were admit
ted to the President s House, save the
immediate relatives of family, with
only one exception: Mr. Speaker
Trumbull, since Governor of Connec
ticut, & who had been confidential Se
cretary to the Chief in the war of the
Revolution, was in the habit of spend
ing an hour with the President, on
Sunday evenings. Trumbull prac
ticed the lesson of punctuality which
he learned in the service of the olden
time, with such accuracy, that the
Porter, by consulting his clock, could
tell when to stand ready to open to
the Speaker's Bell as it was called in
the family, from the circumstance of
no hand, other than the Speaker’s
touching the bell on the evenings of
the Sabbath.
Forty years an husband, General
Washington retained an old-fashioned
habit of husbands, as he always did the
ease and elegan.e of old-fashioned
manners. He wore suspended from
his neck, by a gold chain, and resting
on his bosom, the miniature portrait
ofliis wife, from the lime of his mar
riage until he ceased to live in na
ture.—Custis’ Recollections.
Almost, every professional man has
witnessed the fatal results of this a-
bominatiou. The author has many
limes attributed disease tight la
cing, and in the only two instances
where he was permitted to dissect the
bodies of two young females of this
class, the suspicion was shown to he
well founded. The adhesion of parts
and derangement of structure were
truly frightful, and they had always
been defending themselves from the
charge by saying, “7 am sure l do not
lace so tight as other girls;" and when
accused of violating prudence' in this
respect, when almost suffocated,
would elevate the shoulders, and say;
Indeed I am not vei'y tight." Thus
persisting in their hateful intemper
ance in dress, they prepared for them
selves a premature grave. And it is
a problem which would puzzle aJe--
ding to the letter, M much, A ale, L
little, T thrift, much ale little thrift—
the theological is accordiijfe to the ef
fects which it works, which I find in.
my text to be of two kinds;—1st, in
this world, 2d, in the world to come.
1st. In this world, the effects which it
works are in some M murder, in oth
ers A adultery, in some L looseness of
life, in others T treason. 2d. In the
world to come, in some, M misery, in
others, A anguish and in some, L
languishing, in others T torment.—
Wherefore, my first use shall be ex
hortation—M my masters, A all of you,
L leave T tippling,—or else, 2d, by
way of commination,' 1 say, M my
masters, A all of you, L look for, T
torment. So much for this time and
text—only by way of caution, take
this, a Drunkard is an annoyance to
modesty, the trouble of civility, the
suit, to prove that suicide is less crim- spoil of wealth, the destruction of rea-
inal, when knowingly persisted in by son, the brewer’s agent, the ale-house
light lacing, than that which is effected benefactor, tiie beggar’s companion,
by a halter or a razor. The ingenuity of | the constable’s trouble, his wife’s woe,
TIGHT LACING AND THIN CLOTHTNG.
From a small volume entitled “strictures
on health,” by Dr. Reese, the follow
ing remarks are extracted.
u Thc barbarous custom so preva
lent among our females of tight lacing
the ladies perhaps could ndt be better
exerted than in contriving some
method of preventing such havoc as is
annually occasioned among them from
tight, lacing and thing dressing. Sure
ly the fair sex may invent some form
of dress which may prevent bad ef
fects on the constitution, while at the
some time, their elegance of figure
may not suffer in the smallest degree.
And she or they whose ingenuity should
effect this contrivance, in a manner
satisfactory to those for whose bene
fit it is designed, would save more lives
ihan did|Rush,or even Hipocrates him
self, & the fair inventor vVohld obtain
as well as deserve a mortal immortal
ity among the benefactors of our race.
“Next to this crying evil, in point
of magnitude, we may enumerate ti e
sparing quantity of dress used by ma'-
iy of the fair sex, and particularly by
the young, this being highly destruc
tive to the strongest constitution, and
very often, indeed almost universally,
this practice is connected with the for
mer in the same individual. To lace
the body in corsets sustained by whale
hones and steel busks, and at the same
time to expose the arms and neck, and
only cover the body with thin dress,
and the feet with thin shoes, in cold
weather, is emphatically to light the
candle of life at both ends.
“ No part of the body ought to be
so well protected from cold and mois
ture, as the feet, and yet by our fash
ionable belles, no part of the body not
absolutely naked, is so exposed. To
wear Morocco or leather shoes, eveir
in cold and wet weather, would be
considered an absolute vulgarity; and
hence in cold rain we find that silk
stockings and stuff shoes are the or
der of ihe day. And after both the
one and the other are thoroughly
drenched with water, they will sit
for hours in a theatre, in church, or
elsewhere, although all females know
that there are weighty reasons, which
with them should be paramount to a-
ny and every other consideration, why
they should not suffer their feet to be
either cold or wet. And y#t when
disease is enveloped, they rather as
cribe it to any and every other cause
than to their own imprudence and in
temperance. Thus thousands, annual
ly, are their own murderers—the sil
ly victims of pride and fashion.”
his children’s -.sorrow, his neighbour’s
scoff, his own shame, a walking swill
tub, the picture of a beast, and the
monster of a man—and to conclude—
Say well and do well both end with a
letter,
Say well iB good, but do well is better.
3.
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ioned cut, of the best, though plain- by-the corset, busks &c. is adopted
est. materials. When President of in lieu of the stays formerly worn, and
the United States, the style of his is no less hurtful or criminal. The
household and equipage correspond- stays were laid aside and abandoned by
ed with the dignity of,his exalted sta- our female ancestors in consequence
tion, though avoiding as much as was of the obvious mischiefs resulting to
possible every thing like show or pa- health, but our moderii ladies have
rade. The expenses of Iris Prcsiden- changed the name and shape of the in-
cy, over and above the salary of gov- strument, but they retain all its de
eminent, absorbed the proceeds of the structive characteristics. It was dis
sole of a very considerable estate, covered by the observations of profes
About sunrise, General Washington sional men in England, during the last
invariably visited and inspected the century, and by them publicly declar
stables. He was very fond of horses i ed, that by the stays then generally
and his equipages were always of a worn, “the free expansion of the lungs
superior order. The horses which | prevented, the breasts becafne cance
he rode in the war, w ere said to be
superb. The Library, and a visit to
the stables, occupied the morning till
the hour of breakfast; this meal w r as
without change to him, whose habits
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were regular. Indian Cakes, hooey
and tea, formed his temperate repast.
On rising from table, if there were
guests, and it was seldom otherwise,
books and papers were offered for
their amusement: they were request
ed to take eare of themselves, and the
illustrious Farmer proceeded to the
rous, the ribs and spine, from constant
compression, become distorted, short
ness ofbreath followed, and in many
instances terminated in consumption
•the disgestive organs suffered derange
ment. and frequent nausea and vomit
ing followed.” All these declarations
W'ere made public after having dis
tinctly traced these several results to
Ihe use of the stays by observations
made during the life, and confirmed
hv inspection after death, of which
they had numerous instances, Now
(t As an itinerant preacher was out
on his circuit, he was overtaken by
two scholars, (who had heen taking a
cup of ale too much,) with whom he
was soon drawn into conversation.—
They at last dared him to preach—
when contrary to their expectations,
he instantly dismounted from his horse,
and getting into a hollow stump,
preached the following sermon.
Beloved, let me crave your atten
tion; for I am a little man, come at a
short warning, to preach a brief ser
mon, upon a small subject, to a thin
congregation, in an unworthy pulpit.—
And now beloved, my text is <J\fult,
which I cannot divide into sentences,
because it has none-—nor into words,
because it is but one—nor into sylla
bles, because upon the whole matter,
it is but a monosyllable; therefore, I
A meal is a Meal.—A traveller some*
time ago, stopped at a tavern in
Rhode Island, at the decline of the
day, when his appetite^ began to be
rather clamorous, and asked for a
cold cut—at the same time prudently
inquiring the price. “Twenty five
cents,” replied my host. “That’s
ratlier high,” replied the other, “as l
merely want a cold bite.” “No mat
ter for that.” replied mine host, “a
meal is a meal, and I never charge less
than twenty five cents.” “Well, if
that be the case,” replied the travel
ler, “I may as well have a meal
cooked.” Accordingly the grid-iron
was placed over the coals, and a steak
of respectable dimensions, was soon $
broiled and placed on the table.
The stranger sat down, and like a
man who works by the job, soon de
spatched tiie steak together with ac
companiments, and called for more,
observing at the same time “a meal is'
a meal you know.” Another steak of
goodly size w'as forthwith cooked and.
placed before him. This also disap
peared, in a short time, and yet unsatis
fied the traveller bawled for more,
still repeating, \amcal is a meal, sir.”
A steak larger than either of the for
mer was now cooked, and without
the least appearance af satiety in the -i
eater sent to accompany the rest, and i
the demand was reiterated lor more,
accompanied as usual, w r ith the un- (
lucky phrase of mine host, “a meal is
a me&l, sir.” Thus mine hostess was
kept cooking for tw'o full hours, and
steak after steak disappeared with
the most appalling despatch, each
time accompanied with that ill omen
ed sentence, “a meal is a meal, you
know;” until at last, the innkeeper,
hopeless of satisfying his guest, and
heartily sick of the operation of his
own rule, told the traveller if he
would quit then, he would charge
him nothing for what he had eaten; to
which the other, feeling that he could
not hold out much longer, consented
without much show of reluctance, and
merely added, as he w r as washing
dow r n the last morsel with a mug of
cider “a meal is a meal, you will rec
ollect.”—Berkshire American.
The Sun Flower.—The value of
this plant, which is easily cultivated,
and ornamental to the garden, is
scarcely known in most parts of the
kingdom. The seeds form a most
excellent and convenient feed for
poultry, and it is only necessary to
cut off the beads of the plant when
ripe, tie them in bunches, and hang
them up in a dry situation," to be used
as wanted. They not only rapidly fat
ten every kind of poultry, but greatly
increase the quantity of eggs they lay-
When cultivated to a considerable ex
tent, they are also capital food for
pheasants. The leaves when dried
form a good fodder for cattle, the dry
8
> stalks burn well, and afford abundance
must, as necessity enforces me, divide I of alkali, and when in bloom, the flow-
it into letters, which I find in my text er is most attractive to bees. The
to be only these few, M, A, L, T, properties-of this ornamental flower
Malt.—M, my beloved, is moral, A is render it peculiarly valuable in the
allegorical, L is literal, and T is theo- cottager’s garden.—Northern Whig.
logical. The moral is w-ell set forth 1
to teach yon drunkards good manners— Quick Work.—A royal quarto was
therefore, M my masters, A all of you, stitched and hound in thirty-fire.min-
L listen, T to my text. The allcgo-1 utes, at the corner of Broad and Wall
rical is when one thing is spoken and a- streets. N. Y. Any hinder who will
nother thing is meant. Now the thing \ beat this shall be called great*,
spoken of is bare Malt y but the thing