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POETRY.
LORD BYRON.
The following extract from
A gloomy wilderness of dying thought—•
Repined, and groaned, and withered fym
the eartn.
His groanings filled the land, his numbers
, filled; #
Pollok# Al *y et *' e seeme d ashamed to groan.—
Poor man!
1 **—' .0 „ S k, ,„d jo, he mM help.
Lord Byron, we ever recollect to have seen
in writing.—Hamp. Sen.
' lie touched his harp, and nations heard,
entranced,
As some vast river of unfailing source,
Rapid, exhaustlcss, deep, his numbers flow
ed,
And oped new fountains in the human
heart.
Where fancy halted, weary in her flight,
In other men, his, fresh as morning rose,
And soared untrodden heights, and seemed
at home,
Where angels bashful looked. Others,
though great,
Beneath their argument seemed struggling,
while,
He from above descending, stooped to touch
The loftiest thought; and proudly stooped,
as though
It scarce deserved his verse. With Na
ture’s self v
He seemed an old acquaintance, free to
jest
At will with all her glorious majesty.
• He laid his hand upon “the Ocean’s mane,”
And played familiar with his hoary locks.
Stood on the Alps, stood on the Appen-
nines,
And with thedhunder talked, as friend to
friend;
And wove his garland of the lightning’s
wing,
In sportive twist—the lightning’s fiery
wing,
Which asthe footsteps of the dreadful God,
Marching upon the storm in vengeance
seemed;
Then turned, and with the grasshopper,
who sung
His evening song, beneath his feet convers
ed.
Suns, moons, and stars, and clouds, his sis
ters were;
Rocks, mountains, meteors, seas, &, winds,
and storms,
His brothers—younger brothers, whom he
scarce
As equals deemed. All passions of all
men—
The wild and tame—the gentle and severe;
All thoughts, all maxims, sacred and pro
fane;
All creeds; all seasons, Time, Eternity;
All that was hated, and all that was dear;
All that was hoped, all that was feared by
man,
He tossed about, as tempest, withered
leaves,
Then smiling looked upon the wreck he
made.
With terror now. he froze the cowering
blood;
And now dissolved the heart in tenderness;
Yet would not tremble, would not weep
himself.
But back into his soul retired, alone,
Dark, sullen, proud; gazing contemptu-
ouslv
On hearts and passions prostrate at his feet.
So Ocean from the plains, his waves had
late
To desolation sweet, retired in pride,
Exulting in the glory of his might,
And seemed to mock the ruin he had
wrought.
MATTHEW, CHAP. XII.
rs, DJ8A-4T XII.
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As some fierce comet of tremendous size,
To which the stars did reverence, as it
passed;
So he through learning, and through fancy
took
His flight sublime; and on the loftiest top
Of Fame’s dread mountain sat; not soiled,
and worn,
As if he from the earth had labored up
But as some bird of heavenly plumage fair,
He looked, which down from higher re
gions came,
And perched it there, to see what lay be
neath.
The nations gazed, and wondered much,
and praised.
Critics before him fell in humble plight;
Cdhfounded fell; and made debasing signs
To catch his eye; and stretched, and swell
ed themselves
To bursting nigh, to utter bulkly words
Of admiration vast; and many too,
Many that aimed to imitate his flight
With weaker wing, unearthly fluttering
made,
And gave abundant sport to after days.
Great man! the nations gazed an<iwon
dered much,
And praised; and many.call his evil good.
Wits wrote in favor of his wickedness;
And kings to do him honor took delight.
Thus full of titles, flattery, honour, fame,
Beyond desire, beyond ambition full,—
He died—he died of what? Of wretched
ness.
Drank every cup of joy, heard every trump
Offame; drank early, deeply drank; drank
draughts
That common millions might h^ve quench
ed—then died
Of thirst, because there was no more 4o
drink.
His goodhess, Nature wooed, embraced,
enjoyed,
Fell from his arms, abhorred; his passions
died;
Died all but dreary solitary pride:
And all his sympathies in being died.
As soma ill guided bark, well built and tall,
Which angry tides cast out on the desert
shore,
And then retiring, left it there to rot
And moulder in the winds and rain9 of
heaven:
So he, cut from the sympathies of life,
And cast ashore from pleasure’s boisterous
surge—
A wandering, weary, worn, and wretched
thing;
Scorched sad desolate, and blasted soul;
DUNDAS AND THE BARBER.
Before Henry Dundas, afterwards
Lord Melville, had obtained the pat
ronage of Scotland, he was not very
popular with the natives of that coun
try: indeed the inhabitants of the good
town of Edenburgh at one time sought
his life, & would have sacrificed him to
their fury, for having been concerned
in certain measures to iVhich the gen
eral opinion was opposed.
In this state of the public jnind, he
made a visit to the Scottish capital,
and being one day recognised walking
on the north bridge or mound he tvas
surrounded by an immense mob, who
hustled him in a very rude manner, &
and preparations to throw him over
the parapet. Luckily he happened
to have a considerable quantity of mo
ney in his pocket, in the shape of notes
and silver, which he had the presence
of mind to throw alternately among
them, so as to divert their attention
whilst he made all possible way to the
mansion of the Lord Provost, where,
after great difficulty, and having dis
posed of his last shilling, he arrived,
and found refuge and protection.
The mob increased, however, and
surrounded the chief magistrate’s
house, crying vehemently “put out
Dundas! put out Dundas,” and be
haved otherwise in a very riotous man
ner. At length, the provost, fearing
that they would proceed to extremi
ties, came out and addressed them on
the duties of hospitality, and on the
ancient and uniform character of the
Scots for the exercise of that virtue;
and concluded by saying, that he “him
self would prefer Tailing a victim to
their fury, rather than eject any per
son who had sought the asylum of his
roof.” This was an appeal which no
Scotchman could withstand, more
particularly as it came from a man
whose amenity of character and mild
disposition had rendered him generally
beloved. Having given the provost
three cheers, they quietly dispersed.
Whilst he remained in Edinburgh on
this occasion, Mr. Dundas took care
not to show himself again in the streets,
but soon took bis 4 departure for Lon
don.
Scot* fftenvards being obliged- to
revisit his native country, and knowing
, that the storm had blown over he met
with a very odd adventure, but one
which terrified him equally, if not
more so, than that on the North
Bridge. It seem that he had recently
been accessary to some other pubjjc
measure, not, however, of such gener
al importance as the former one: it
was such as to keep alive the public
feeling, though not sufficient to blow
into an actual flame. In this state of
things he arrived at an hotel in Eden
burgh, and next morning sent for a bar
ber to shave him.
The Tonsor, who happened to be a
wag, - on entering the room, saluted
Mr. Dundas, and welcomed him to
Edenburgh. Then having decorated
him with an apron, he began to lather
his face, during which operation, he
cast upon him several scowling and
penetratin'; glances, the meaning of
which the stranger could not well
comprehend. At length, flourishing
his razor, he said, in a sharp, and
stern voice,
“We are much obliged to you, Mr.
Dundas for the part you lately took in
London.”
“What!” replied the secretary,
“you are a politician I lind! 1 sent fqr
a tarfccr.”
“Oh! yes,” returned the knight of
the pewter basin, “I’ll shave you di
rectly,” which he did, until half of the
bea/d was cleanly mowed, when,
coiling to his throat, he drew the back
of |lie razor across it, saying, “take
that, ye traitor!” and out he ran, down
staire, into the street. ,
\Ihether Mr. Dundas had previous
ly fqt uneasiness at the barber’s man
ner ve know not, but the latter ex-
pres ion—the action being so well suit
ed t the word—induced him instant
ly tqapply the apron to his throat, and
to njake a loud guggling noise, which
beirg heard by some of the people of
theliouse, they immediately ran to
his assistance. They soon discovered
by file pantomimic gestures of Mr.
Dundas, what had occurred, and it
was not long before the room was full
of members of the faculty, of all de
grees: apothecaries, surgeons, and
physicians. It was a considerable
time before the patient could be pre
vailed upon to remove the apron and
expose his throat; but at length, when
he did so, with caution,—it was found
to be in a perfectly ivhole state; there
not being even a scar visible!
Though Mr. Dundas had much rea
son to he delighted at having escaped
unhurt, he was little mortified at the
laugh which this adventure occasion
ed: and his chagrin was greatly in
creased when he found he had to pay
for the attendance of the medical
gentlemen: which having done, and
having shaved the other side of hre
face himself, he decamped from Ed-'
ingburgh, and did not return for many
years.
THE HORSE.
We cannot do a greater service
than by aiding to correct some of the
errors relative to the care and treat
ment of this invaluable animal. This
is the attempt of the following ex
tract, which is taken from the N. E.
Farmer; we commend it to the atten
tion of every man who owns, or is ev
er likely to own a horse.—JV*. F. Enq.
Stabling.
As to hovr the horse should be confined tn
the stable.
The universal practice in Massa
chusetts, as in most other places, is to
tie him in a narrow stall, with his fore
feet higher than his hind ones. In
some stables the declivity is very
considerable. It is my opinion, that
if there must be a declivity, it should
be forwards. A horse worked every
day on a fast trot over a hard road, as
a coach horse, suffers enough in his
fore feet when he is sound. One of
the first signs of incipient disease in
them, or rather of the crowded state,
which precedes disease, is his throw
ing his weight as much as he can on
his hind legs. I am inclined to doubt
the fact of his preferring to stand up
hill under such circumstances.—One
reason for such an opinion, is the man
ner in which his weight is thrown on
his toes when he stands up hill, even
if his heels are raised, ' Another great
disadvantage of his standing so, is,
that he throws the whole weight of
his forehead upon the same muscles
and tendons he uses most in draught.
It is certainly of importance, that if
he must have an unnatural strain any
where, when he is not at work, it
should not be where the strain must
be when he is. It is a vast comfort
to a horse to be kept- in a box. He
should be able to choose his own po
sition, at least to> sleep in, and relieve
what muscles he wishes. In a stall
he must sleep, through life, with his
head held in the air, and his legs un-
derfhis body. His getting cast in a boil
is not a common occurrence Ten
feet square will do well, if he cannot
have a large one in a box he is freed
from the torment of hearing, walking
and talking behind him.
Feeding.
•Us to how he should be fed.—I have
never yet met with a person having
the charge of horses who, in my opin
ion attached sufficient importance to
the impropriety of allowing a horse
his usual allowance of corn, when suf
fering from cold. Not only is the
corn thrown away, but it must always
do him some harm, and may do him a
great deal. Many horses that suffer
from a thickening of windpipe, a dis
ease for which we have here no name,
many that arc broken winded, many
that are ruined in their feet, may
have it ascribed to being fed on severe
cold. The corn increases the disor
der of the system by the difficulty
with which it is digested, and when
digested, it exaggerates what tenden
cy may exist to local inflammation.—
Oats are the least dangerous corn,
they being so very light. There is a-
nother remark which I would make,
which is, that no horse should be fed
higher than usual, when forced to any
accidental violent exertion. He nev
er ought to be forced to any which lie
has not been in some degree pre
pared for, and his ability to make it
should be looked for from the previous
preparation, not from any unusual
.means of supporting his strength.—
Oats appear to be the best corn suited
to a horse’s stomach; but he wants
something better than oats for full
work.—There is to an experienced
eye, a particular lightness and hol
lowness between the hip joint and
the stifle joint, in worked horses that
get nothing better than oats, which is
not to be seen in those that get Indian
corn. As I observed in my last com
munication, there is great difference
generally, in the constitution of the
round chested, and the deep and nar
row horse. The first as a much more
comfortable one to deal with; the
other is often stronger, faster and
better winded; but varies infinitely
from day to day; feels the season
more; is not so good a feeder; nor
ought he to be, for his stomach is
weaker and more readily oppressed.
Working.
As to how he should be worked.—It is
a common practice in Massachusetts
to water horses before they leave the
stable. This is ridiculous; but a
worse practice is to water them du
ring their stage; which last is univer
sal. They unquestionably may be
come accustomed to it as to any thing
else; but it injures many of them.—
If driven on again immediately, and,
thrown into new perspiration, it may
possibly prevent the water from in
juring them, but I entirely question
the fact of its lessening the fatiguing
effects of their work. I know that
it is hard to tire a pedestrian that will
drink hut little; and if he is to walk
all the day, every tumbler of water,
drunk when hot, takes two or three
miles from a pedestrian’s day’s work.
It is also a common practice to drive
horses through a stream of water when
they are hot, to refresh them. The
immediate effect, unquestionably,
is to refresh them; but they soon feel
an increased stiffness from it. It is
the practice of some people to tie
them up after they come in, in the
strongest draught of air which can be
found, (a damp brick yard where the
sun never shines is still better,) and
wash their legs with cold water.—
This is going for the whole. The u-
niversal manner in which coach hors
es driven in Massachusetts is repre
hensible. They are started off at a
pace much faster than they are ex
pected to hold, and continually gal
loped for short distances, when the
pace at which they are expected to
perform their stage does not exceed
six or seven miles in the hour. I do
not believe that occasional galloping
relieves the horses in slow coaches,
where the hills do not render it ne
cessary. I believe they should al
ways be driven as nearly as possible
at the same pace; and it has a much
more coachman-like appearance.
" •
From Arnott’s Elements.
THE BAROMETER.
To the husbandman the barometer
is of considerable use, by aiding and
correcting Che prognostics of
vyeather, which he draws from locj,.
signs familiar to him; but its great]
use, as a weather-glass, seems to bJ
to the mariner, who roams over the]
wide ocean, and is often under skiet]
and climates altogether new to him,!
The watchful captain of the present]
day, trusting to this extraordinaq]
monitor, is frequently enabled to tak*|
in sail, and to make ready for thd
storm, where, in former times, the]
dreadful visitation would have fallt
upon him unprepared. The marine,
barometer has not yet been in generall
use for many years; and the author]
was one of a numerous crew, who|
probably owed their preservation to]
its almost miraculous warning. It]
was in a southern latitude. The sun]
had just set with placid appearance]
after a beautiful afternoon, and the]
usual mirth of the evening-watch was]
proceeding, when the captain’s order
came to prepare with all haste for j
storm. The barometer had begun to
fall with appaling rapidity. As yet
the oldest sailors had not perceived!
even a threatening in the sky, and
were surprised at the extent and hur
ry of the preparations; but the re
quired measures ware not completed,
when a more awful hurricane burst
upon them than the most experienced
had ever braved. Nothing could
withstand it; the sails already furled,
and closely bound to the yards, were
riven away in tatters; even the bare
yards and masts were in great part
disabled: and at one time the whole!
rigging threatened to fall by the board.
Such, for a few hours, was the min
gled roar of the hurricane above, of
of the waves ground, and of the inces
sant peals of tminder, that no human
voice could be heard, and, amidst the. |
general consternation, even the trump
et sounded in vain. In that awful night,
but for the little tube of mercury
which had given the warning, neither
the strength of the noble ship, nor the
skill and energies of the commander,
could have saved one man to telkthe
tale. On the following morning the
wind was again at rest, but the ship
lay upon the yet heaving waves, an un
sightly wreck.
To Men of Honour.—Can a man,
having a wife and children solely de
pendant on him for support, be prop
erly considered as a coward for refu
sing to fight a duel? Hath he notan
oath registered in Heaven—in other
words, and to speak more to the com
prehension of honorable men, hath he
not pledged his honor, in a form and
manner which take precedence of all
other human obligations, to nourish and
support his wife and children; and
does not this promise include one that
he will not put his life in jeopardy, but
will make every sacrifice for its pres
ervation? In short, have not the wife
and children a claim upon the life of
the husband and father, which neither
he nor any other earthly power can set
aside?
A Man of Homor.
At a late anniversary of the Brit
ish and Foreign Bible Society a re
port was read by which it appears that
5000 copies of the Polish Testament
are now printing in Berlin; that the
Turkish Bible had been completed—
40,000 copies of the New-Testament
had been printed at Sultzbach. The
Finnish Testament was in good pro
gress. 2000 copies of the ancient and
modern Testament had been sent to
Greece; it had also been translated in
to the Albanian language. The total
number of Bibles distributed the past
year by the Society were 137,162,
and of Testaments 199,109, being a
circulation of Bibles and Testaments
amounting to 42,264 over the distribu-'
tion of the former year.
The receipts for the year amount
ed to eighty-one thousand pounds, or
$360,000.
' Health oj Savannah.—We state for
the information of our absent friends,
that the health of Savannah continues’
uninterrupted. The weather has faeeft
remarkably fine, the thermpmeter
generally ranging from 75 to 88, w’ith
pleasant showers and refreshing breez
es. We hear of no cases of fevers:
and (saving the Doctors) our citizens
enjoy fine spirits, and evince a disposi
tion to “keep cool,” in spite of the
Tariff. Neither the Dengue fever,
nor the Walterborough mania, basyc£
crossed the Savannah.
Savannah Mercury.
. ..