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Vol. I.
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w in ■> ■ ■ .'I sJ! ■. _UL-...1LL ■■"".'■HU.
'The fool hath said in hit lieart there
in laG Ch>«l. — Psalm 11th.
"Nd CJjtP. jVo GW!” The simplest flower
That on tho wild is found,
Shrinks as it drinks its cup of dew,
And trembles nt the sound:
“No God!” astonished Echo cries
From out her cavern ho-:,
And every wandering bird that flies
Reproves the Atheist lore.
The solemn forest lifts his head,
Tho Almighty to proclaim.
The brooklet, on its vrystiid urn,
Doth leap to grave his name,
High swells the deep and vengeful sea,
Along his billowy track,
And red Vesuvius opt s hio mouth,
To hurl the falsehood back.
The palnviroo with its princely crest,
The cocoa’s leafy shade,
The brand fruit bonding to its lord,
In yon far island glade;
Tho w inged seeds, that borne by winds,
Tho melon, on the desert sands,
Confute tho ecorner’s creed.
“.Vo GW!" With indignation high
Tho fervent soul is stirr’d.
And tho pale Moon turns paler still,
At such an impious word.
And from the burning throner, tho Stars
Lockdown with angry eye,
That thus a worm of dust should mock
Eternal Majesty.
L. IL S.
J 1111 1 • -
HI I JI C K L D A Ml. •
THE SOLDERS RETURN.
Seven or eight years I was travelling
between Berwick and Selkirk, and, having
started at the crowing of tho cock, I had left I
Melrose before four in tho afternoon. On ar.
riving at Abbotsford, I perceived a Highland
soldier, apparently fatigued as myself, leaning
upon a walking slick, and gazing intensely
on tho fairy palace of the magician, whose
wand is since broken, but whose magic stiff re.
mains. I ant no particular disciple of Lava
ter's, yet the man carried his soul upon his
thee, and we wore friends at the first glance.
He wore a plain Highland bonnet and coarse
S ray great eoat, buttoned to tho throat. His
rest bespoke him to belong to only the ranks;
but there was a dignity in his manner, and a
fire, a glowing language, in his eye, worthy of
a chieftain. His height might exceed five
feet nine, and his age be about thirty. The
paces of manly beauty were still upon his
ItOffi FLOYD COUNTY, GEORGIA. OCTOBER 16, 1838-
cheeks; but the sun of a western hemisphere’
had tinged them with a sallow hue and imprint
ed untimely furrows.
Our conversation related chiefly to the clas
sic scenery around us; and we had plensanly
journeyed together for two or ' <ree n;:;
when we arrived ata little sequester'd burial
ground by the way side, near v/hicn there was
neither church nor dwelling. Its low wall
was thinly covered with turf, and we sat down
upon it to rest. My companion became silent
and melancholy, and his eyes wandered anx
iously among the graves.
'“Here,” said he, “sleep some of my father’s
children, who died Li infancy.”
lie picked up a small stone from the ground,
and throwing it gently about ten yards,
“That,” added he, “is the very spot. But,
thank God! no grave stone has been raised
during my absence! It is a token ,1 shall find
my parents living—and,” continued he, with a
sigh, “may I also find their love. It is hard,
sir, when the heart of a parent is turned a
gainst his own child.”
He dropped his head upon his breast for a
few moments and was silent, and, hastily rais
ing liis fore finger to bis eyes, seemed to dash
away a solitary tear. Then turning to me,
he continued: “You may think, sir, this is
weakness in a soldier; but human hearts beat
beneath u red cord. My father whoso name
is Campbell, and who was brought from Ar
gyleshire while young, is a wealthy farmer in
this neighborhood. Twelve years ago, Mov
ed a being gentle as the light of a summer
moon. We were children together, and she
grew in beauty on my sight, as the star of c
vening steals into glory through the twilight.
But she was poor and portionless, the daught
er of a mean shepherd. Our attachment of
fended my father. He commanded me to
leave her forever. 1 could not, and he turned
me from Lis house. 1 wandered, I knew not,
and I cared not, whither. But I will not de
tain you with my history. In my utmost
need I met a sergenn! of the forty-second, who
was then upon tho recruiting service, and in a
few weeks i joined that regiment of proud
hearts. I was at Brussels when the invita
tion'; to tho wolf and the raven rang at mid
through tho streets. It was the herald
of a day of glory and of death. There were
three Highland regiments of us —three joined
in one—; fried in rivalry, in love, and in pur
[.'<• ;■?; and, thank Fate! I was present when the
Scots Greys, flying to our aid, raised the elec
tric shout, “Scotland forever!”—“Scotland for
over!’’ returned our tartaned clansmen: “Scot
land forever!” reverberated as from the
hearts we had left behind us; and “Scotland
forever!” re-echoed Victory!” “Heavens!”
added he, starting to his feet, and grasping his
staff, as the enthusiasm of the past gushed
back upon his soul, “to have joined in that
shout was to live an eternity in the vibration
of a pendulym!’’
In a few moments the animated soul that
gave eloquence to his tongue drew itself back
inttßhc chambers of humanity, and resuming
his seat upon the low wall, he continued, “1
left my old regiment with tho prospect of pro
motion, and have since served in the West In
dies; but I have heard nothing of my father —
nothing of my mother—nothing of her I
love.” *
While ho was yet speaking, the grave dig
ger, with a pick-axe and spade over his shoul
der, entered the ground. He approached
within a few yards of where we sat. Ile mea
sured off a narrow piece of earth —it encir
cled tho little stone which tho soldier had
thrown to mark out the burial place of his
family. Convulsion rushed over tho features
of my companion; lie shivered—he grasped
my arm —his lips quivered—his breathing be
came short and loud—-the cold sweat trickled
from his temples. He sprang over the wall—
he rushed towards the spot.
“Man!” he exclaimed in agony, “whose
grave is that?”
“Hoo? awa’ wi* ye,” said the grave digger,
starting back at his manner; “whatua away
is that togliff a body!—arc yc dal ?”
“Answer me,” cried the soldier, seizing his
hand; “whose grave—whose grave is that?”
“Mercy me!” replied tho man of death, “ye
are surely ut o’ your head—it's an auid body
that ca’d Adam Campbell's grave—now are
you ony thing the wiser for spierin?”
“My father!” cried my comrade as I ap-
I preached him; and clasping his hands togeth
er, ho bent his head upon my shoulder, and
wept aloud.
I will not dwell ujion the painful scene.—
During his absence, adversity’? l !ad given the
fortunes of his father to the wmd; and he had
died in an humble cottage unlamcnted and un
noticed by tho friends of his prosperity.
At the request of my fellow traveller, I ac
conipanied him to the house of mourning.—
Two or three poor cottagers sat around the
fire. The coffin, with the lid open, lay across
tho table near the window. A few white hairs
fell over the whiter face of the deceased which
seemed to indicate lhat he died from sorrow
rather than from age. The son pressed his
lips to his father’s cheek. He groaned in
spirit, and was troubled. He raised his head
in agony, and, with a voice almost inarticu-
W isdom,jMs«icc, and operation.
late with grief, exclaimed, inquiringly, “My ■
mother?”
'Fhe wondering peasants started to their
feet and in silence pointed to a lowly bed.
He hastened forward—he fell upon his knees
by tho bed-side.
“My mother! —O my mother!” he exclaim
ed, “do not you, too, leave me? Look at me
I am your own son—your own Willie—
have you, too, forgot me, mother? ’
She too, lay upon her death bed, and the
tide of life was fast ebbing; but the remember
cd voice of her beloved son drove it back for
a moment. She opened her eyes—she at
tempted to raise her feeble hands, and it fell
upon his head- She spoke, but he alone knew
the words that she uttered; they seemed ac
cents of mingled anguish, of joy, and of bles
sing. For several minutes he bent over the
bed, and wept bitterly, lie held her withered
hand in his; he started; and as wo approached
him, the hand he held was stiff and lifeless. —
He wept no longer—he gazed from the dead
body of his father to that of hi-; neither —his
eyes wandered wildly from the. one to the
other, he smote his hand upon his brow, and
threw himself upon a chair, while misery
transfixed him, as ts a thunderbolt had enter
ed his soul.
I will not give a description of the melan
choly funeral, and the solitary
father’s obsequies were delayed, and the son
laid both his parents in the same grave.
Several months passed away before I gained
information respecting the sequel of my little
story. After his parents were laid in the dust,
William Campbell with a sad and anxious
heart, made inquiries, after Jeanie Leslie, the
object of his early affections, to whom we
have already alluded. For several weeks his
search was fruitless; but at length he learned
that property had been left to her father by a
distant relative, and that he now resided some
where in Dumfricshire.
In tho same garb which I have already de
scribed the soldier, he set out upon his journey.
With little difficulty he discovered the house.
It resembled such as are occupied by the high
er class of farmers. The front door stood
open. He knocked, but no one answered. —
He approached along the passage —he heard
voices in an apartment on his right—again he
knocked but wyis unheeded. A group was
standing in the middle of the floor, and among
them a minister commencing tho marriage
service of the Church cf Scotland. The
bride hung her head sorrowfully, and tears
were stealing down her checks—she was his
own Jeanie Leslie.' The clergyman paused.
The bride’s father stopped forward angrily,
and inquired, “What do you want, sir?” but in
stantly recognizing bis features, he seized him
by the breast, and in a voice half-choked with
passion, continued —“Sorrow take yc for n
scoundrel! what’s brought ye here—and the
mair especially at a time like this? Get out
o’ my house, sir! I say Willie Campbell get
out o’ my house and never darken my door
again wi’ your ne’er do well countenance!”
A sudden shriek followed the mention of his
name, and Jeanie Leslie fit’ll into the arms of
her brides-maid.
“Peace, Mr. Leslie!” said the soldier, push
ing tho old man aside; “since matters are thus
I will only stop to say farewell—for auld lang
syne—you cannot deny me that.”
He passed towards the object of his young
love. She spoke not—she moved not —he
took her hand, but she scorned unconscious of
what ho did. And, as he again gazed upon
her beautiful countenance, absence became as
a dream upon her lace. Tho very language
he had acquired during their separation was
laid aside. Nature tiiumphed over art, and
he addressed her in tho accents in which he
had first breathed love, and won her heart.
“Jeanie!" su'd ho, pressing her hand be
tween his, “it’s a sair thing to say farewell,
but nt present I maun say it. This is a scene
1 never expected to see, for oh Jeanie! I could
have trusted to your truth and to your love, ns
far as the farmer trust to seed time and to har
vest, and is not disappointed. Oh! Jeanie,
woman’ this is like separating the flesh from
the bones, and burning the marrow? But ye
maun be anither’s now—farewell’ farewell!!”
“No 1 no!—my a n Willie!’’ she exclaimed,
recovering from the agony of a stuperfaction,
“my hand is still free, and my heart has been
yours—save Willie! save me!” and she threw
herself into his arms.
The bridegroom looked from one to another,
imploring them to commence an attack upon
the intruder, but ho looked in vain. Tho fa
ther again seized the old grey coat of the sol
dier, and almost rending it in twain, discover
ed underneath, to the astonished company the
richly laced uniform of a British officer. He
dropped the fragment of the outer garment in
wonder, and at the same time dropped his
wrath, exclaimed, “Mr. Campbell!—or what
are ye?—will you explain yourself?*'
A few words explained all. The bride
groom. a wealthy, middle aged man without a
heart, left the house, gnashing his teeth. Bad
ly as our military honors are conferred, merit
is not always overlooked even in this country,
where money is every thing, and the Scottish
soldier had obtained the promotion he deserv-
ed. Jennie’s joy was like a dream of heaven.
Ina few weeks she gave her hand to Captain
Campbell of his Majesty’s regiment of
Infantry, to whom years before she had given J
her young heart.
From Mr. Stephen's new 1 Incidelsr of Travel.' |
THE BATTLE OF GROKOW.
The battle of Grokow, the greatest in Eu
rope since that of Waterloo, was fought on ■
on the twenty-fifth of February, 1831, and ■
tho place where I stood commanded a view of;
the whole ground. The Russian army j
was under the command of Diebitsch, and ,
consisted of one hundred and forty-two thou- .
sand infantry, forty thousand cavalry, and i
three hundred and twelve pieces of cannon, i
This enormous force was arranged in two
lines of combatants, and a third of reserve.
Its left wing, between the Wavre and the ,
marshes of the Vistula, consisted of four di
visions of infantry of forty.seven thousand
men, three cf cavalry often thousand five
hundred, and one hundred and eight pieces of
cannon; the right consisted of three and a
half divisions of cavalry of fifteen thousand
seven hundred and fifty men, and fifty-two
pieces of cannon. Upon the borders of the
great forest opposite the Forest of Elders, con- i
spicuous from •where 1 stood, was placed the |
reserve, commanded by the Grand Duke Ccn- I
stantine. Against this immense army the Poles j
opposed less than fiftytthousnnd men and a |
hundred pieces of cannon, under the command j
of General Skrizynecki!
At break -of day the whole force of the
Russian right wing, with a terrible fire of sis.
ty pieces of artillery and columns of infantry,
charged the Polish left “with tho determination
of carrying it by a single and overpowering
effort. The Poles, with six thousand five bun
dred men and twelve pieces of artillery, not
yielding a foot of ground, and knowing they
could hope for no succor, resisted this attack
for several hours, until the Russians slackened
their fire. About ten o’clock the plain was
suddenly covered with the Russian forces, is
suing from the cover of the forest, seeming
one undivided mass of troops. Two hundred
pieces of connon, posted on a single line, com
menced a fire which made the earth tremble,
and was more terrible, than the oldest officers,
many of whom had sough at Marengo and
Austerlitz, had ever beheld. The Russians
now made an attack upon the right wing, but
1 failed in this as ujxm the left; Diebitsch direc-
I ted the strength of his army against the for
, cst of elders, hoping to divide the Poles into
[twoparts. One hundred and twenty pieces
'of cannon were brought to bear on this one
■ point, and fifty battalions, incessantly pushed
j to tho attack, kept up a scene of massacre an
; heard of in the annals of war. A Polish of.
i freer who was in the battle told mo that the
small streams which intersected the forest
' were so choked with dead that tho infantry
I marched directly over their bodies. Tho he
roic Poles, witti twelve battalions, for four
hones defended the forest against the tremen
dous attack. Nine times they were driven
’ out, and nine times, they repulsed the Rusians
' with immense loss. Butteries now conccntra
! ted in one point, were in a moment hurried to
and tho artillery advanced to the
' charge like cavalry, sometimes within a him-
Idred feet of the enemy’s columns, and there
' opened a murderous fire of grape.
At three o’clock, the Generals, many of
: whom were wounded, tho most of whom had
; their horses shot under them, and fought on
’ foot at the head of their divisions, resolved
j upon a retrogade movement, so as to draw the
i Russians on the open plain. 'l'ho Russian
j troops then debouched from the forest, a cloud
of Russian cavalry, with several regiments of
heavy cuirassiers at their head, to the attack,
i Colonel Pientka, who had kept up an unre
j mitting fire from his battery for live hours,
’ with perfect sang froid, upon a disabled piece
of cannon, to give another effective fire, then
left al full gallop a post which he had so lomr
t occupied under the terrible fire of the enemy’s
' artillery. This rapid movement of his batte
ry animated the Russian forces. The caval
ry advanced on a trot upon the line of a batte
ry of rockets- A terrible discharge was pour
ed into their ranks, and the horses, galled to
madness by the flakes of fire, became wholy
’ ungovernable, and broke away, spreading dis
order in every direction; the whole body'
swept lwdplc#sly along the fire of the Polish
infantry, and in a few minutes was so com
; pletely annihilated that, of a regiment of cui
‘ rassiers who bore inscribed on their helmets
. the “Invincibles,” not a man escaped. The
wreck of the routed cavalry, pursued by the
lancers, carried along in its flight the columns
of infantry. A general retreat commenced,
and the cry of “Poland forever!” reached the
walls of Warsaw to cheer the hearts of its
anxious inhabitants. So terrible was the fire
of that day, that in the Polish army there was
not a Single general or staff officer who had
not his horse killed or wonded under him;
two.thirds of the officers, and, perhaps, of
the soldiers, had their clothes pierced with
balls, and more than a tenth part of '.he army
were wounded. Thirty thousand Russians
and ten thousand Poles were left on the field
of battle; rank upon rank lay prostrate on tho
earth, and the forest of elders was so strewed
with bodies that it received from that day tho
name of the “forest of the dead.” The Czar
heard with dismay, and all Europe with aston.
ishment, that the crosscr of the Balkan had
been foiled under the walls of Warsaw.
All day my companions said, the cannonad.
ing was terrible.
Crowds of citizens, of both sexes and ullages,
were assembled on the spot where we stood,
earnestly watching tho progress of the battle,
sharing in all it vicissitudes, in the highest
state of excitement as the-clearing up of the
columns of smoke showed when the Russians
or Poles had fled; and he described the entry
of the remnant of the Polish army into War
saw as sublime and terrible; their hair and fa
ces were begrimmed with powder and.blood-,
their armor shattered and broken; and all, ev
en dying men, were singing patriotic songs;
and when the forth regiment, among whom
was a brotlisrof my companion, had
particularly distinguishe 1 themselves in the
battle, crossed the bridge and filed slowly
through the streets, their lances shivered a.
gainst the cuirasses of the guards, their hel
mets broken, their faces black and spotted
with blood, some erect, some tottering-, and
some barely able to sustain thcmselvesTn the
saddle, above the din of the chorus of patriot
ic songs rose the distracted cries of nTothcr%
wives, daughters, and lovers, seeking among
this broken band for forms dearer than life’,
many of whom were then sleeping on the bat
tle-field.
My companion told me that he was then a
lad ol seventeen, and had begged jj ith tears to
be allowed to-accompany his brother; but his
widowed mother extorted from him a promise
that he would not attempt. All day he had
stood with his mother on the very spot where
we did, his handin hers, which'she grasped
convulsively, as every peal of cannon seem
cd the knell ol her son; and when the lancers
passed, she sprang from his side as she recog
nised in the drooping figure of an officer, with
his spear broken in his hand, the figure of the
gallant boy. lie was then reeling in his sad
dle, his eve was glazed and vacant, and he
died that night in their arms.
|
Life in the Southwest.—-A friend itt
Louisiana writes, under date of the 31st ult.
that a fight took place a few days ago iri
Madison parish, 66 miles below Lake Provi
dence, between a Mr. Nevils and a Mr. Hnr
per, which terminated fatally. The Police
Jury had ordered a road on the right bank‘of
the Mississippi, and the neighboring planters
were out with their forces to open it. For
some offence, Nevils, the superintendent of
operations, flogged two of Harper’s negroes.'
I he next day the parties met on horseback
when Harper dismounted and proceeded to
cowskin Nevils for the chastisement inflicted
on the negroes. Nevils immediately drew a
pistol and shot his assailant dead on’the spot.
Both were gentlemen of the highest rc’ncc'a*
bility. ’ /
An affray also came off recently, as the
’ same correspondent writes us, in Ravmend,
II i nds conn ,y, Mississippi which, for a serious
one, was rather amusing. The Sheriff had a
process to serve on a man of the name’of
Bright, and, in consequence of some diflieultv
! and intemperate language, thought proper to
commence the service by the application 'of h’s
cowskin to the defendant. Bright thereupen
floored his adversary, and, wresting his cow
hide from him, applied it to its owner to tho
extent ot at least live hundred lashes, mean
while threatening to shoot the first bystander
who attempted to interfere. The Sheriff was
carried home in a state of insensibility, and
his life has been despaired of. The ’Mayor
of the place, however, issued his warrant and
startedthree of the Sheriffs deputies in pur
suit of the delinquent, but the latter, after kee
• ping them at bay till they found it impossible
to arrest him, surrendered himself to the mag
istrate, by whom he was. bound over to tlio
next Circuit Court. From the Mayor’s office,,
his honor and the parties litigant proceeded to
the tavern to take a drink byway of ending
hostilities- But the civil functionary refused
to sign articles of peace by touching glasses
with Bright, whereupon lhe latter made a fu
rious Jassault upon him. and then turned and
flogged “mine host” within an inch of his lifo
because he interfered’ Satisfied with his day’s
work, Bright retired. Can we show any such
specimens of chivalry and refinement in Ken
tucky?—Louisville Journal.
First Departure of a Steam Vessel for St.
Petersburgh.— On the Ist of August, the
steam ship Sirius, recently trading between
London and New Yopk, sailed from east lane
stairs, Bermondsey, for St. Petersburg This
is the first steam ship that has left the Thames
for the Russian capital. She had a number of
passengers—principally merchants,
‘ Bennett of the New York Herald, says
t lat the English surpass us in many things,
but in women and horses we beat them out and
out.
IVO, 20*