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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. 1. GACT h-V DTR DOR OWotJ 0»6At- XotJE TSJ E(V<£IC'.*IA.AZ DASt Sh/iIi«>E, D(T OWO-^ OLotiJSR (PCifoJA D<f ShtfA- Ey. 2. 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DC* soAOTur 3 ehswGio Dep^SotiA- 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. . ..