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From the Amulet.
WOMAN AND FAME.
BY MBS. ICEMANS.
Hapnv—happier far than thou.
With ti»« laur*1 on thy hrow,
>>h? that makes the humblest hearth,
Z . ely but toons on earth.
* ; )iv; hast a eharmed cup, O Fame!
A r.au*ht that mantles high,
A >'i ' ’ ’ms to lift this earthly frame
lhave mortality,
A .vv! to me—a woman—bring
Sweet water* from affection’s spring.
Thou hast green laurel-leaves that twine
Into so proud a wreath;
for that resplendent gift of thine,
Herops have smiled in death,
G.ve me from sonv* kind hand a (lower,
The record of one happy hour!
Tlnu hast a voice, whose thrilling tone
Can bid each life-pulse heat;
A ' when a trumpet’s note hath blown,
Calling the brave to meet:
B it min", let mini—a woman’s breast,
B v wards of home-born love be blessed.
A hollow sound is in thv song,
A mockery in ♦hme or**,
To the sick heart that doth but long
For aid, for sympathy;
F ir kindly looks to cheer it on,
For tender accents that are gone,
Fa n ! Fame! thou can«t not be the stay
Unto the drooping reed,
The cool fresh fountain, in the day
Of the sou’’s r evertsli need;
Where must the lone one turn or flee?
Not unto thee, oh! not to thee!
MX80 'a.y.T, A3TEOTJS.
From Walsh’s Narrative.
THE BATTLE OF DRAGESCHAN.
You have been in the habit of (les-
ising this people [the Greeks,] and
believe them so sunk and degraded
from their former name, as hardly to
be recognized as the same nation: but
certainly my experience of them for
several years would induce me to a-
d.v.t a different opinion; their strong
moral features, ia.« those of their
language, though debased by some re
cent barbarisms, remain essentially
the same—the character of both be
ing but little altered. As far ,09 they
h ' - burl option‘.nuiies, they have e-
vinced the industry, activity, genius,
lov > of literature, enterprise, talent
and intrepidity; shaded at the same
time, with the levity, fickleness, per
sonal jealousies, cruelty and want of
faith, which occasionally distinguished
IV.sir ancesters; and assuredly they
are not inferior to them in an ardent
and une uinguisliable love, of liberty,
and their country, for which they have
perilled as much, and fought as brave
ly, in the dayyofthe Turks, as their
ancestors in the days of the Persians.
To their domestic virtues I should he
very unjust if I did not pay them the
tribute iliey deserve. 1 have no
where met more kind and cordial pco,
pie lo strangers; or, who perform the
relative duties in their own families
with stronger affections, in which I
am disposed to think they exceed their
progenitors. If, in addition to this,
xve consider the obligations we owe
thei > nation, our sympathy will not be
confined to mere respect for their un
changed character. We acknowl
edge them as our masters in literature,
and the arts and sciences, and the
source from whence wo derive what
ever is estimable in those attainments;
and so they are endeared to us by all
the recollect ions‘connected with such
Interesting subjects; but we do not
snem to remember that they are our
instructors in religion also; that their
language was the medium thnugh
which the Gospel was first conveyed,
and their cities were among the first
where it was preached and adopted.
And when Providence, for its own
wise purposes, permitted to Mahom
etanism a Temporary triumph in Eu
rope, no inducement or intimidation
could prevail on the modern Greeks
to abandon the cause of Christianity;
but. for four centuries, they cherish
ed and kept alive the sacred flame, in
the centre of the Turkish empire.
\s we are now in the vicinity of
Rimnik. rendered so interesting by
the battle of Drageschan, fought In
its vicinity, I felt I could not pass the
spot without visiting it, and sending
you «ome local details of one of the
most affecting incidents of modern
times; and, considering the youth and
circumstances of the parties engaged,
rivalling in intrepidity and self-devo
tion, n*w : .hing we read of in the histo
ry of aneienf Greece.
Ypselante so, t finding in the pro
vinces the support he expected, was
Compelled to retire before the Turks,
I and up o position at Tcrgov»sv,
me ancient capital of W allachia.
From bonce he was obliged to retreat
through the upper country, crossed
the river Oil, and established lnuiseli
at Rimnik, a small lovui near that
river* and not far from the Carpa
thian Mountains, which separate this
province from Transylvania and the
Austrian territories. A large body of
Turks, infinitely superior in numbers,
here advanced against him; ami it
was debated in me Greek, army,
whether they should wait for rein
forcements, or immediately meet the
Turks. The position they had taken
up was very favorable to the first.
There stood near it the large monas
tery of Drageschan, which it was
proposed to occupy. 'The Greek
monasteries are well adapted for such
a purpose: they consist generally of a
large quadrangular edifice, surround
ing an open area inside, and entered
only by a small door through the body
of the building. The walls are very
strong and massive, and the windows
narrow, exactly resembling embra
sures. for which they are well calcu
lated. The accommodations inside
are extensive: and hence every mon
astery is. in fact, a fortress; protect
ing inmates from piratts on the sea
coast, and robbeis in the interior; and
affording the Greeks a shelter, when
hard pressed by their enemies. As
this slood among the extreme bram li
es of the mountains, which here ad
vance considerably into the plain, and
was encircled with woods and diffi
cult ground, it would he easy lor light
troops to advance under caver, and
completely harass any army who
should surround it. It was, there
fore, proposed by Georgaki, a distin
guished officer in Ypselantes’ army, to
occupy the monastery and woods, and
wait the coming of the expected re
inforcements. This advice, however,
was opposed by Karavia, another offi
cer of influence, whose motive was
evinced by liis subsequent conduct,
such, however, was the enthusiasm of
the troops that nis advice was unfor
tunately adopted.
The forces of Ypselantes consisted
of 9000 effective men, Arnatus, I’an-
dours, Servians, Bulgngarians, Wal-
u.u-.u.w, — 1 Moldavians—generally
animated in the cause, „..a „n
by the common bond of professing the
same religion of the Greek Churoli*
but from the very nature of their for
mer services, the total relaxation of
military discipline, and, above all,
their being of different nations, and
having no bond of personal and local
attachment, they were not much to
be relied pn in a general attack. There
was, however, one body whose former
character gave them, the highest claim
to confidence. •
It had been laterly the pratice of
the Greeks in general but particular
ly those of the provinces, to send then-
young men of respectable families, for
education to different Universities in
Europe; generally to those of Italy
and Germany: such as were intended
for the learned professions, studied
medicine and law: and such as were
intended for business, mathemati s.
The first generally returned and prac
tised at home; the last were usually
placed in the different mercantile
houses which the Greeks had now
established in every capital on the
continent. When the Society of the
lietairia extended itself, these young
men enrolled themselves as members
of it wherever it had ramifications,
and when the plan of revolution was
resolved on, they were the first to of
fer themselves as soldiers to support
it. Every man provided himself with
a case of pistols, a sword, and a mus
ket with a screwed bayonet, after the
European manner, and a uniform suit
of black; and thus equipped, to Ypse
lantes’ standard. It was a singular
and interesting spectacle, to see these
young gentlemen voluntary, and by a
simultaneous movement, abandoning
their colleges and offices’ in different
places in Italy, Russia and Germany;
marching forward either singly or in
small bodies, from the remotest parts
of Europe, and meeting at one com
mon centre, to form an army. They
enrolled themselves into a corps call
ed icros loclias, or the sacred band;
and they evinced by their conduct,
that they merited the appellation as
much as the Thebans in the days of
Epaminondas; they inscribed on their
standard thanates eluthuria, death or
freedom: and the inscription of the
Spartan shield e tan e epi tan, either
this or upon it. The greater part
of them had never felt hardship, or
handled a military weapon before
yet they eadured fatigue, privation
llllu I j/ M>< W J •• I Ati u liii UuU
fortitude—setting an example to the
rest which was badly followed. There
weie of this corps, now with Ypselan
tes about five hundred men: & on these
he justly placed his chief reliance.
The little array, originally so small,
had been further weakened by the ab
sence of Prince Caulucuzcue, who
had taken a stiong detachment to op
pose the Pasha of Ibrail on the Dan
ube. What remained, did not consist
of more than live thousand men, who
had with them a small body of Arnaut
cavalry, and a few iron field pieces
that had been ships’ guns. They
were opposed by nearly double the
number of Turks, with 1600 well ap
pointed cavalry, among whom was a
corps of Delhis. 1 have already
told you the nature of those troops.
The battle began at ten o’clock in
the morning of the 19tb June, 1821
After a few rounds of grape-shot from
the small artillery of the Greeks, the
Turks rushed with their usual impe
tuosity on the corps of the sacreii
hand, who flanked and guarded it.
They were repulsed with coolness by
the fixed bayouets of the corps who
had a great advantage over their enc
ores ina close charge, as the Turks
used no bayonets, on their muskets,
and their yatigans or hangers, u'ere
too short to reach within their guard.
'The Turks retired in confusion, bui
returned soon again to the charge,
and were again driven back. Ypse-
lants, now seeing the moment for dec
ision, instantly ordered up the whole
corps of his cavalry, to attack the
Turks in the rear, as they were re
tiring in confusion. Had the orders
given been obeyud, they never would
have rallied again, and the victory
would have been as signal, as the con
sequences-to the Greeks would have
been momentous. The cavalry was
commanded by Karavia, who had been
so strenuous in advising an immediate
battle. Instead of obeying the orders
of the General, and attacking the
Turks.in their confusion, they turned
suddenly round, headed by their in
famous commander, and riding furious
ly through a body of their owu men,
threw the whole left wing into conf.i-
sion. Every effort was made to reme
dy the disaster, but in vain. The
panic or treason of the horse, commu
nicated itself with the infantry; the
whole dashed headlong into the Olt,
and passed to the other side, leaving
the sacred band almost alone in the
midst of the plain. It w' s now that
the Turkish cavalry, seeing them a-
bnndoned to their late, rushed on
them, and surrounded their little body
on all sides with their squadrons. In
this awful situation, these young men,
utterly unused to discipline, kept
fr mly together, and repelled for some
time every offort to break them; the
Delhis, particularly, rushed on them,
but was received so steadily, on the
cheeeux defrize which their bayonets
presented, that their horses were al
ways thrown hack in confusion. At
length the pistols of the cavalry ef
fected what the sabres could not;
they made repeated discharges on
them beyond the reach of their bayo
nets; they were gradually thinned and
weakened by this firing, and then the
Turks rushing in with their sabres,
cut down every man that remained,
on the spot where he stood. More
than four hundred perished side by
side; and of the few what escaped
almost all died of their wounds, so
that hardly an individual of this admir
able band, the pride and flower of the
Greek nation, survived this dreadful
day.
I cannot describe to you the feelings
of respect and regret with which I
walked over the ground that covered
the remains of th^se young heroes.
I had not long before visited the field
of Marathon, and the rei ollectioq of it
and I)r. Johnson’s effusion, were fresh
in my mind; but the impressions of
both were cold snd feeble, compared
with those of Drageschan. Here was
an act of courage end self-devotion a-
mong modern Greeks, that rivalled
any thing similar, in the best days of
their ancestors; and I was on the spot
while the event was yet recent, and
their bodies if I may so say, scarce
cold in the clay that covered them.
No one has hitherto dared to erect a
tomb to designate the place where
thev lie. but they live imnerishably
in the memory of their country; and
when Eu bind and her allies shall re
place it in its due rank among the na
tions of Christian Europe, a raoi.'!*
ment on the field of Drageschan will
not be forgotten.
There is not two other words in the
language that call back a more fruit
ful train ot past remembrances of
fiieiidsiup than these. Look through
your iiuiury, and when you cast your
eye upon a volume that contains the
name ot an old compauiou, it will say
—remember me. Have you an ancient
Album, the repository of the mement
os of early affection? turn over the
leaves, stained by the finger of time,
sit down and ponder upon the names
enrolled 011 them; each speaks, each
says, remember me. Go into the
crowded church-yard, among the mar
ble tombs, read the brief inscriptions
that perpetuate the memory of de
parted ones; they too have a voice that
speaks to the hearts of the living, and
says, remember me. Walk in the
scenes of early rambles: the well
knowni paths ot the winding streams,
the over-spreading trees, the green
and gently-sloping hanks will recall
the dreaniS of juvenile pleasure, and
.lie recollections of youthful compan
ions; they too bear the treasured in-
1 unctions—remember me. And this
‘is all that is left at Inst of the wide
circle of out earthly friends. Scatter
ed by fortune, or called av\ ay by death
or thrown without our band by the
c hanges of circumstances or ot char
acter; in time, we find ourselves left
alone with the recollection of what
they were. Some were our bene,fac
tors; and won us by their favor; oth
ers, again, w ere models of virtue, and
shared our praises and admiration.—
It was thus a little while, and then
the c hanc es of the w orld broke in up
on the delightful intercourse—it ceas
ed Yet still, w e do all we can to
discharge the one sacred, and hon
est, and honorable debt—we can
remember them. 1 be tribute
too, of remembrance whtah. we
delight to pay to others, we desire for
ouiselves 'The wish tor applause;
the thirst for fame; the desire that our
names would shine down to future
posterity in the glory of recorded
deeds, is a feverish, unhappy passion,
compared with the unambitious desire
to retain, even beyond the span of
hie, th* a flections of the warm-heart
ed few who shared our joys and sor
rows in the world. I once >ead the
brief inscription, ‘remember me,’ on a
tomb-stone in a country church-yard,
with a tear, that the grave of Bona
parte would not have called iorth.-—
But whom do we always remember
with affection? The virtuous, the
kind, the warm-hearti d; those who
have endeared themselves to us by the
ainiahlencss of their characters. It
is the mind, the disposition, the habits,
the feelings of our friends,* which at
tach us to them most strongly; which
form the only lasting bond ot affection;
which alone can secure our affection
ate remembrance. Then, if we
would he r» membered with ti c kind
liest feelings; if we would be em
balmed in the.memory of those we
love; if we desire that when fortune
or late shall separate us from our
friends, they may long think of us, we
must possess ourselves the same char
acter we ' love in others Never
was a moie noble line written in the
history of man than this— “The first
emotion of pain he ever caused—was
on his departure.”
- — 1
PROBABLE COLLISION OF THE
EARTH AND A COMET.
Never removing from the sun to a
greater distance than Pallas, &. cross
ing the track of the earth, as well as
that of every other planet below Pal*
las, more than sixty times in a centu
ry, it is from the comet of Encke
c hiefly that we have to apprehend the
risk of a collision. It is found to he
particularly liable to suffer perturba
tion from the attraction of Mercury,
which it sometimes approaches so
near as 360,000 miles. This circum
stance has led some to apprehend that
at a future period a collision may take
place between this comet and Mer
cury; at all events, their frequent
proximity will afford to astonomers
the means of determining that planet’s
mass, which is not yet very accurate
ly known. Concerning its approach
to our own planet, Olhers has commut
ed, that in the courso of 88,600 years
this comet will come as near to us ns
the moon; that in four millions of years
it will pass at the distance of about
7,WO geographical miles, when, if its
attraction should equal that of the
earth, the waters of the ocean will
Jie elevated 13,000 Cert, that is above
all the European mountains except
Mount Blanc. The inhabitants of the
Andes & Himalaymouritains. therefore
• would alone be able to escape such a
a... ..irtini, propaoiy. lea,©
upon our glotie records ot iis occur
rence, similar lo those discoveiai.de,
at the present day. After a lapse of
two hundred and nineteen millions'
of years, according to the calculations
of the same astronomer, an actual
collision will take place between this
comet and the earth, severe enough
to shatter its external crust, alter toe
elements of its orbit and annihilate
the various species of animated beings
dwelling on its surface., lienee re
may conc lude that iu the course of
two hundred and nineteen millions of
years, our globe will certainly be
smashed by a comet. I have remark
ed that Encke s comet approaches
nearer the earth’s orbit than any oth
er yet •discovered; and hence the
probability is, that the fate which is
thus demonstrated to be reserved for
our globe, will he fulfilled by means,
of this particular comet. But such
speculations however striking the re
sults, conduce to. no practical advan
tage, and contribute little to the ad
vancement of science. They affo efc
astonishing proofs of the energy of
man’s intellectual power, by which
he extends his vision to the horizon;
of the most distant futurity^ and looks
forward, it may be, with a feeling of
complacent assurance to those mo
mentous events, which, from his |
knowledge of nature, he is enabled to
foresee. But let him not rest too,
confidently on the verity of such anti
cipations. Astronomers have proph
esied, it is true, the collision on a
comet with the earth, an event that
will at once destroy the greater part
of the human sjiecies; hut any slight
attraction, which, in calculating the
movements of this comet, they have
chanced to overlook, must invalidate
all their conclusions, and render the
prediction at once vain and futile:
while, perhaps- some other comet,
among the many thousands travel sing
the system, and following an orbit to
us unknown, may. in the meanwhile,
come in contact with our globe, and
thus, without any warning of its ap
proach, produce the same terrible ef
fects, long before the expected period
have arrived.—Milne's Essay on Com- ,
ets.
TURNING DOLLARS INTO
PI9TAREENS.
A Latin student in one of our Aca-'
demies, had some how or other taken
it into his head that hard study was
not easy, and wn9 therefore in the
habit of applying to his fellow students
to help him out with his lessons.—It
was on one of these occasions, that
coming to the passage of Virgil, where
./Eneas, about to relate bis adventures
and sufferings at the enrnest desire of
Queen Dido, tells her that she com
mands him to renew unutterable grief?
the idle student got as far ns renovare,
and there he stuck fast. It was al*
most the hour of rcritatiou, and not
having a minute to lose, he applied to
the person' nearest at hand for assis
tance. The latter happening to bd
rather of a waggish turn, told him to
translate the passage thus— lt Rcgina,
0 Queen—jutes, you order me—reno
vate. to turn—dclorem. dollars—infan-
dum, into pislareens!” The idle fel
low swallowed the hoax, and hastened
to his recitation, flattering himself that
he was well prepared to give a good
account of his lesson—and coming to
the knotty passage, he read in a fall
voice and with more than usual confi
dence. pre isely in the words of hia
wajrgisb comrade—and at the same
time assumed a look and tY>n“, as rum. h
ns to say, beat that my boys if you can.
The burst of laughter that followed
at his expense, may he easily imagined;
he was. besides, reproved by the mas
ter, in no very measured terms, for
turning the sacred words of Virgil into'
ridicule; and htf was not likely soon tq
hear the last of the matter from his
feljow students.—This put him upon
a resolution to retaliate, and nn op
portunity was not long wanting. Find
ing the roguish translator lying on his
back one day, asleep, lie poured a
tincture of red pepper upon his eyes,
which insinuated itself between the
lids, and soon put an end to his slum*
hers. Feeling his eyes smart intolera
bly, and seeing his latp dupe standing
over him, with the direful bottle in
his hand, he bawled out, “What are
you about here you scoundrel?’*
“why,,’ replied the other, “I’m only
turning dollars into pistareens.”
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