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P02STUY. Fromth" Lonflon Kcepsakp for 1929, HEBREW MELODY. In Judah’s halls the harp is hushed, Her voice is but the voice of pain; Th" heathen heel her helm has crushed, H *r spirit wears the heathen chain. From the dark prison-house she cried, “ How long, O Lord! thy sword has slept! O quell the oppressor in his pride!”— Still Pharoah ruled, and Israel wept. The morning breezes freshly blow, The waves in golden sunlight quiver; Tlv Hebrew’s daughter wanders slow B’side the mighty Idol River. A babe within her bosom lav,— A n 1 must she plunge him in the deep? She raised her eyes to Heaven to pray; She turn’d them down to earth to weep. She knelt beside the rushing tide, ’Mid rushes dank, and (low’rets wild; Beneath the plane-tree’s shadow wide, The weeping mother placed her child. Peace be around thee—though thy bed “ A mother’s breast no in or" may be; M Y"t he that idueld’s the lily’s head, “ Deserted babe, will watch o’er thee p’ She’s gone Ithat mourning mother! gone— List to the sound of dancing feet, And lightly bounding, one by one, A lovelv train the timbrel beat. Tr, she of Egypt—Pharaoh’s daughter, That with her maidens comes to lave H’ r form of beauty in the water, And light with beauty’s glance the wave. Oh! woman’s heart is like the rose, That glows beneath the tropic’s flame, That blooms as sweet ’mid northern snows, Forever lovely—and the same. Whate’er her rank—what e’er herlqj, Where’er her gentle influence ranges, The art to bless is ne’er forgot, The will to comfort never changes. Th n monarch’s daughter saw and wept— (How lovely falls compassion’s tear!) The babe that there in quiet slept, • Blest in unconsciousness of fear. •Twits her’s t > pity and to aid The infant Chief, the infant sage; Un lying fame the deed repaid, Recorded upon heaven’s own page, Years pass awav—the land is free! Daughter of Zion! mourn no moi"! Th" Oppressor’s hand is weak on thee, Captivity’s dark reign is o’er. Th v chains are burst—thy bonds are riven— O •! like a rive • strong and wide: % Captain is to Judah given— The babe that slept by Nile’s broad tide. aszyoiu. I. Dlih TlrMy P'Mr.iT’, IiSJ TGrto8?o5.i, T>(sZ./)4P qPPFotKT’T DB JrU DyAPCS. *j. SfllVJ Rj9 IrtSSO-T-iy IrfiP ©S6UAE r>o3<u j Dx»A<vai?y AXW*.I LI*»036iK0. 0 ) JlWfr*V (PGAPOiPT dl Rivj irSrfoi; O’Gwrw.s-iyii o’.wXhA.iGp; testy z ©ai-ie i P y. 4. CPGAVfKA OPLE IrO-E, iii'-i oor.e ©TrSiPT; Df*ye o i sp<S)E DxjEhny, £ D«f ^>h«hxapT. 5. y.v S4*wi .spCv DB DXrf©o7>AWO, “o-ot'SOCs:, oT-sWAre,” OiTO-, “sa«v*z <rv»hrL.” 6. DXG0-Ae.V Oxm.irV), nyprR srfe-y, tta .lezyir 5 nswo-, IrV Slrzy^ioy. *»S. 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Returning in 1830 from an excursion in the western part of New- \ ork, I passed through this island.— The road upon which vve travelled was lined on each side with rows of trees, apparently standing in their native slate, hut spared by the woodman for the purpose of shade, tho of what spe cies I could not determine, but much resembling the low elm, so copious up on the interval lands in Vermont.— 'Ihe adjacent lielus weie covered w ith the lincst orchards I had ever beheld: while liie farm houses, scattered at convenient distances, seemed to pos sess much ol the taste and elegance of the city mansion. It was mid after noon when we arrived at a village up on the eastern shore, commanding a wide view of those waters immortal ized by the victory of iVi’Donough.— We alighted at a handsome inn, arid it being too late requested accommoda tions lor the night. We soon discov ered Iroin the gaiety of a numerous assembly who w ere collecting, that a wedding was celebrating in the house, and so much was ray attention occu pied in viewing the splendid dresses of those who were passing, together with inusick in an adjoining apartment that 1 did not at lirst observe a young temale, in black, who was sitting near a window commanding a view of the lake, which, as the sun was then set ting, reflected his rays and displayed a scene both lovely and sublime.— When first I beheld her she was lean ing her head upon her hand, and ap peared as if intently gazing upon sCme object distant upon the bosom of the water; and indeed, so much did she appear engrossed by the sight, that I involuntarily arose and walked to the window in order to share with her the singular vision. But as I approached, she sighed deeply, and raising her eyes full upon my face, there was an expression that seemed to speak more than volumes could tell. Her soul W'as evidently with sorrow, but alas! it was a sorrow that no sympathy could reach—hidden malady thatpreyed upon the heart's be6t and noblest leel- ings.” So mueh were my feelings moved and interested by that appa rently unconscious look, that I felt resolved, if possible, to find out the source of her misfortunes. At length, I said, “pardon me madam for ap pearing intrusive, but unless I am greatly deceived, you are misfortune's child, and as it is ever my privilege to miugle with the afflicted the tear of sympathy. I beg you will tell me by what means you have become, as your garb intimates, a mourner.” She a- 0 «u.i kiilbiU hi,i eyes, «.ucn looking in lenuy iqiut a w uw.il sue imu in nci llauu, sncUuiSi. uno leuis auu ieu me room, lsaw tier no more—out iron, a young iaij picsciu t ieuiueu Uie loi- lovwug eiLuiusiauocs: ‘•xamv iiiCcsv>oKrn,” said she, ' is liie *ily uaughter ol a wcaiw.y merchant oi the town ol L , hoiuerinjupon Uie lane on uie New k oi h sjuc Si e possesseu ii om clmu- hooii /^ry i dvanuge v\lnoli weailii ami iudiii oe coulU bestow.—olie linisheu\icr education at aiemaie se minary in Vie city ol i\evv- k oik, and the mipioYmenl sue mauc, both m her sluuiesVnu maimers, gave loner parents llic uiosl pleasing Suiisiaclion. She had twl biothers, one oi which went early lpiiiuu Ins lailiei s coun ter, .mu w aslbvniciiiiy to be his pi op in declining ke, wlme me younger was desuneu b a prolession. lie had already reeeifcd ins uiplouia iiom liie Lniveisay, aid nau gone abroad io loon about upui the woiid a little he- lore lie ueeidei One year upon a prolession. had passed since the completion oi ier studies, aim ^ainay was eiijo) nig bi neath ner dear parent al rooi, ail mu happiness an innocent heart and aweji ouiuvaieu mind could besloiv. She was the idol oi tier pa rents, and ii w as her joy to amuse them hi whatever way her active im agination could invent; sometimes she sang, mid sometimes painted huid- scaptjs, 0>te. as sue was ever an en- thusilstic admirer of nature; and tho not plolessediy pious, yet the view oi any uiug vvoiideiiul and subnme al ways urought with it the idea ot Him a ho iHTiied it; and though she couiu not comprehend his w isuoiu aim great ness, yet siie v\as always reverent to ali tilings of a divine nature. “In the early pan ot the summer of 1814, she was walking upou me shore at sunset, to inhale a puie even ing bieeze and list to the dateriowl as it whispered a “good evening” sung, whensuduenly a boat turning a point, glided directly totiie spot w here she stood. Being much surprized at Lie suddenness of its appearance, she sloou motionless w hilc a young oiiicer in liie naval uniform, springing from the boat stood before her. ‘uo not he alarm ed my sweet girl,' said he, “it is not my intention to inti ude upon a stran ger, but as 1 had a glimpse oi your form from a distance, 1 was not cer tain hut my good stars had led me in to the vicinity of the ‘‘Lady of liie Lake;” but us lucre is not much of the romantic in my imagination, i have finally taken you to he an admirer of rural nature, lor which your walk was evidently intended, and as my motive was a corresponding one, i beg you will permit me the pleasure of sharing your walk a short distance. I urn in this vicinity a stranger, having very lately entered on board the fleet upon this lake, and it was witli the commo dore’s permission that 1 took this little aquatic excursion around the snores to survey the variety of the beautiful scenery. There seems to he much majesty, blended with simplicity, which to the lover of nature and ol' nature’s God, imparts a double charm.’ 1 ‘‘Such vvas the language by which Fanny was accosted by a hand some and polite youn 6 officer. They continued their walk a short distance upon the shore, when twilight begin ning to mantle the waters he request ed permission to see her safely to her own door, and on parting politely soli cited leave to call upon the family. “It cannot he supposed that an ad venture so entirely new to her should be revolved with indifference. Ah no—there was : n ease, an affability, a d licacy in the deporlment of the stran ger that could not f ail to leave a deep impression upon the vivid imagination of Fanny. She related the adventure to her parents, apparently with much interest, and also the permission she had given him to call again. Three weeks had passed away during which time Fanny had not forgotten the “un known stranger,” and though she had refrained walking in that direction, yet not an,evening had passed but she raisg^j»er window sash to glance upon the waters where his boat had glided so fleetly. At length, one afternoon as she was busily engaged at her pain ting table, endeavouring to sketch a boat as it approached a craggy shore, with an officer in the attitude of spring ing from it, a rap ivas heard at the street door. Mrs. Ellsworth arose and opened the door, when an officer in full uniform entered the room. The blush upon Fanny’s cheeks left her ai no loss to conjectute who the stran ger was. Fanny received him joy” ...liy, and lust inquired by what name sue should introduce him to her fami ly. “Lieutenant B , madam,” was the reply. Mr. Ellsworth enter ed soon after, and it vvas discovered that Lieutenant B was the son of a clergyman in Connecticut. His education was liberal, and his princi ples evidently correct and pu e. The afternoon glided quietly away, and he arose to take leave, but not till he was warmly urged by Mr. and Mrs. Ells worth to call again. His visits were now frequent* and at last he made an a- vow r al of his affection for Fanny, which on her part vvas received with unas suming modesty. He vvas invited to spend a w eek in the family. His com pliance vvas a gratification to them ail, for his kind, unassuming manners had gained much upon the affections, of the family, and it vvas her brother’s de light to challenge to a game of che quers or piquet. But as evening ap proached he usually invited Fanny to a walk upon that lovely shore where they had lirst met, and discovered that their souls “harmonized to a sound.” “But at length the fatal 11th of September approached. He took leave of this happy family, where he had passed the brightest hours of his life,, but with a hope shortly to meet again. Fanny attended him to the beach where, after mutual insurances of unalterable affection, they parted, and as she saw his boat glide from the shore almost with the fleetness of lightning, the tear rushed to her eye— a secret something whispered to her ear, “you part to meet no more.”— Alas! poor Fanny, too true vvas that secret whisper. The British fleet, ommanded by commodore Uovvnie, entered the lake, & Anally challenged the American fleet by a lust fire; it was returned. The contest was ob stinate and severe. In the midst of the battle, Lieutenant B re ceived a shot in his right side; it pen etrated the lungs—death was inevita ble. lie took from his pocket a goui watch, and calling to an intimate brother officer—“1 am dying,’ said he. “Take this watch—coiwey it to Fanny Ellsworth, tell her i im pressed upon it a kiss with iny dying lips, and wish her to keep it as a pledge of my remembrance even in death.” He shortly after expired.— The sound of the cannon liail lirst u- roused Fanny from her to leae vvneie she was preparing lor the solemn uu- ties of the day. 8he rail to the win dow and discovered the two lieius m hostile array. Attended by ner luuiei and brother, she climbeu a lony em inence by the shore, where thtj couiu discover the movements ol each ves sel, as it look its stand in the action. The most painful sensations pervailed .the bosom of Fanny, in vain sue sought that composure which her kiud father so aifectiuiiately urged upon her. Every shot imparled a new pang, as if the builel itself hud entereu her bosom. At length after a few hours, ail was still. They saw the American flag waving triumphantly upon the ship ol M'Donough, while the British liags were all invisible. Again hope dawn ed upon Fanny’s bosorni ami she telt lor a while to reciprocate the shouts of joy that echoed from hundreds up- en the neighboring dills. Most im patiently did they await an approach ing messenger, lie arrived—an offi cer was with him. He inquired for Fanny Ellsu'Orth—she sprang to his side-“Lieutenant B is dead— he committed to my care this witch for you, saying lie had with his dying breath impressed upon it a kiss, and presents it to you as a token of his fi delity, even in death.” Fanny grasp ed the watch and fell senseless into the arms of her father. Convulsion succeeded convulsion, and it vvas not till the third day that she manifested returning reason. Then there vvas a wildness in her eye that indicated “all is lost.” And so it vvas—reason had been dethroned, and in its stead des pair now reigns. She appears indif ferent to surrounding objects, and on ly starts when the name of Lieuten ant B or of commodore M’Do- nough are uttered. Her youngest brother who resided in Vermont has recently died of a fever; but she pays no attention to the narrat ive, nor does she appear to heed the tears of her almost broken hearted parents. When at her father’s house she daily resorts to the lake shore, where with the watch in her hand she sits hour after hour, as if gazing upon an approach ing boat. She is now residing for a few weeks upon this island with a cous in, to whom she vvas formerly much attached. But her bosom .is n(w dead to every tie of friendship or affection, and her only dream appears to be the gliding boat or the warring fleet.” MARGARET; From the Berks hire American. “THESE MEN ARE FULL OF NEW WINE.” In discoursing on this subject, we shall take the liberty of substituting the words ardent spirits, in the place of ‘new wine’—and ardent spirits we shall consider as including all those strong waters which have a tendency to banish reason, destroy health, rub property, and make a swill-tub of hu man flesh. Do you see that man with his gait unsteady, his hand trembling, his faco* glowing like a sheet of flame, his breath hot as a furnace, his tongue bog gling at small words, & as it were cov ered with mitten, his head full of con fusion and his eyes full of rheum, his strength impaired and his thirst per petual—that man is full of ardent spii> its. Do you see that man of law, often at the tavern and seldom at his office, who prefers brandy to black stone, and punch to pleading, whose practice is principally at the bar ‘of mine host,* and whose, causes prove ruinous to his own effects and those of his clients— that man is full of ardent spirits. Do you see that man of physic, his saddlebags filled with jugs instead of drugs, his horse standing all night at the tavern and feeding on post-meats instead of oats, who deals out opium for cathartic, and jalap for an a'no- dyne, whose very appearance is a per petual emetic, and whose breath is* stronger than his medicines—that mart is full of ardent spirits. Do you see that man of divinity, whose face blushes with brandy end not for the sins of the people, whose ‘conversation in the world’ breathes of rum more than of heaven, whose ways, though he directs others in the straight path, are more devious than a Virginia fence, who, though he cau tions others not to fall, often stumbles- himself,—that man, although a divine, gives strong suspicions of being full of ardent spirits. Do you see that farmer, with his fences prostrate, his boards hanging loose on his buildings, his winder g stuffed with old hats and cast ot? breeches his jug going six times a week to the store, his crops consume ed before they are raised, his cattle sold under the hammer, his children in rags and his wife in tears—that man is full of ardent spirits. Do you see that mechanic, who is any where but in his shop, who sup plies his customers with promises in stead of work, whose tools are out of order and whose stock has run down his throat, whose eyes are red with drink and not working o’nights, who prefers a scat at a tavern to a bench in his shop, who mars his customers’ work instead of making it—that man’s principal desire is to be full of ardent spirits. Do you see that laborer, looLI« ft for work, and praying devoutly that he may not find it; his coat hanging in his strings, and his breeches unmcntionably ragged, who would sooner labour for whiskey at the rate of fourpence a day, than work for cash at good wages, who carries home a bottle of blue ruin for the ruin of his family, w hp beats his wife and starves his children— that worthless being is full of ardent spirits. Finally, do’ you see that pot-valiant fellow, who being constantly hot with liquor takes fire on the slqjhtest oc casion, who is always in a brawl ancf ready to draw his fist at a . moment's warning, who has generally on hand a case or two of assault and battery, with a black eye and bloody nose as principal witnesses—that fellow gives unquestionable evidence, that lie is „ ftdl of ardent spirits. Fake Noses.—A French surgeon, of the name of Delpech, lately read to the Academie des sciences a paper on what he calls “animal grafting.” In the course of ten years practice he has successfully produced thirteen: new noses, which, although destitute of cartilages, are perfectly firm gnd solid. M. Delpech prefers the In dian process, in which the necessary skin is taken from the forehead, to the Italian, in which it is taken from the arm; and conducts the operation so skilfully that only a few slight traces remain on the forehead instead of the wrinkled and disagreeable scar which was formerly produced.