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TANARUS“ ODE
.tng at the Btrk&ire .Igrienltural Celebration
BY WM. C. BRYANT, KSq.
Far back in the ai;cs
she plough w ith wreaths was crown’u,
l'h<‘ hands of kin.;s and sages
Entw in <1 the c haplet round :
‘J ill men of spoil
Disdain'd tin- toil
Bv wltich the world was nounsli'd,
And blood and were the -oil
In which their laurels flourish and.
Wow the world he r fault repairs,—
The guilt that stains her story :
And weeps her crimes amid the cares
That formed her earliest glory.
Hie proud throne shall crumble,
The diadem shall wane,
‘The tribes of earth shall humble
The pride of those who
And war shall lay
llis pomp uway :
The fame that heroes cherish,
The glory earn’d in deadly fray,
Shall fade, decay and perish.
Honor waits o’er all the earth, —
Through endless generations,
The art that calls the harvests forth,
And feeds the e xpectant nations.
f.I.NES ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND.
Oh, who through lile’s luxuriant fields,
Regardlessly can staay ;
Or mark the charms that nature yields,
And heedless turn away ?
Who hath beheld in nature s wild,
A fragrant flowret bloom,
Nor sigh’d to think such sweetuess smil'd
In so obscure a doom ?
Or who in scenes where strangers dwell
Math met an angel mintl,
And bid that lovely one farewell,
Nor left a wish behind—
A wish of sympathy —u prayer
With honest feeling fir'd,
Which many a day still lingerd there
Where it was fust inspir’d.
Yh me ! in this lone cheerless heart,
A feeling still remains,
Which would to life a charm impart,
And smile amidst its pains!
Rut yet, when e’er a joy appears,
To baffle inward woe,
’Tis wash’d away by sorrow’s tears
W hich seldom cease to flow.
When e’er amidst my gloomy cares,
A genial thought I find,
Away, some pang, the kindness tears
And leaves a sting behind.
And scarce a sinile lights up mine eye,
Scarce is a pleasure known,
Before (hey vanish in a sigh,
And leave this heart alone.
The wriest trifle that I prize,
With feelings too sincere,
I am obliged to sacrifice,
As soon as it is dear !
Thus, dearest frirnd. when first we met,
Yl hen first I saw thine eye,
Although thou wer’t a stranger yet,
Tuere seem and a kindred ti**.
But ’twas not lore 1 felt for thee—
Xo caprice* of the mind— ,
‘Twas nature’s own warm sympathy,
That feels for all its kind.
l'or t have, stood with feelings high—
With heart a truth sincere,
And wept to think I couU not dry
Misfortune's every tear ,
Aad *,Viien I thought that we must part,
And meet in life no more
Ah ! then a chill came o’er iny heart,
W hieh was too cold belore 1
Misfortunes yet. met bought might rise,
Around thy pathot life.
And tears may lade those lovely eyes,
Or thou inay’stsink in night—
Or years may pass away, and we
May meet again, in grief,
And sink in mutual misery,
A mutual relief
Rut thou art gone, and I am left
To mourn iny hapless lot,
Fp.r from the spot win re first v\e met,
\nd soon may be forgot.
I et that is nothing—as l’or me
I Iml sojourn awhile—
-1 ask not human sympathy
t 1 seek not pleasure’s smite!
I or it b is been my lento roam,
A stranger, from iny birth—
To feel this world was not my home—
To l’ecl a'oiie on eiv tli!
Dim through the mists of future years,
Uncertain prospects rise—
And here and there a hope appears,—
AH else in sorrow lies.
Yet Oh 1 while life* i> left t me,
W hile feeling still ri-mains
Oft, oft, shall memory turn to thee.,
Sw eel friend of her wno mourns. 1.. F.
The lights are fair in my father - hall,
The red wine is bright to *ee :
But 111 flee like a bird and lc a\ e them all,
My Ocean Love ! for thee.
There is gold around my silken robe,
\nd white pearls are in my hair ;
Ain! they say that gemsauci the broidered rest
Are woman's chicfcst care ;
Rut dearer to me is one silent smile
1)1 thine eagle eye than them all ;
And dearer the ibck of tbv hark to mo
Than my father’s lighted kali.
1 have no IsAme. now, but thy arras
And they are all the world to me ;
And l* thou but true, I'll never regret
All, dear love ! 1 have left, for thee.
I Minion Literary Gnz.
CfirtllM,
“ rrHy, merrily peals the horn,
’ R bile sweet the birds are singing
“ And gaily blooms the waving corn,
“ Yud the woodsman sme is ringing.”
THE SETT LERS.
There are two words in our language
which serve as finger posts to point
\ out unerring the road to fortune.—
Guided by them do one can ever fail;
with magic power they balilc the storms
of fortune, and turn “back the flood of
ill upon its source: their result- are
sure, though every thing else in the
world is measurably uncertain; their
reward ui.iv be calculated on, while all
other calculations depend upon vague
and variable, circumstance. Shall I
name them ? they should be taught to
lisping children. Shall I comment on
them r They should be practised from
youth to age. Hear it —Industry ami
Perseverance combined is the far la
med Philosopher’s Stone which, turns
whatever it touches into gold. It is
the basis of fortune —the pillar of use
fulness and the key stone of wisdom
round which all the virtues move.
The family and relatives of an an
cient inhabitant of H. had assembled
at iiis late residence a week after his
decease, to hear in what manner he
willed the disposal of his property. —
lie had a large and lucrative farm,
and three children, grown up to be
young men, The eldest was decreed
the estate, and as was much the cus
tom in those days, the two youngest
brothers were left a small legacy each;
“ a sum sufficient, with industry and
perseverance, to found a fortune on.”
“ Our father,” said Charles, unmov
ed when he heard the sum of his lotnne;
“our father leaves us a valuable portion;
it consists not only in the best advice
but in the strongest motive to put that
advice in practice.”
The brothers had been brought up
to the occupation of cultivators of the
soil, and held it unwise t.o leave bu
siness in which they were well versed
lor any other; they therefore set
about preparing to make their en
trance in the world as agriculturalists.
Their plan was soon laid. To pro
cure comfortable farms in that coun
try, for it was not far from Philadel
phia, was impossible without involv
ing themselves in debt—They resol
ved to emigrate to the Susquehanna,
and chose a situation, where their in
dustry might avail them more, and
where their means would be sufficient
to enable them to make a beginning
with perfect safety. They chose a
spot of ground, after considerable re
search, and settled down in the bosom
of the vast and untodden forests.
They left the ancient home of their
father, now the rich possession of their
elder brother with cheerfulness. They
knew that all depended on their indi
vidual exertion.*!, and strong in the con
sciousness of their own powers they
went.
The spot they chose was one of pe
culiar beauty. It was a lengthened
▼alley, gently declining to the river.—
Around it on every side, nature had
piled her mountain barriers, as if to
protect the natural foliage of its ver
dant soil, and add grandeur to the
beauty of die scene. Tliere, now to
the peal of five already'located hunter,
answered the axe of the woodman and
the song of the plough boy. The
forest bent beneath their efforts, and
green fields of waving grain, in a year
after, greeted the vision of the travel
ler, and added new delight to the ru
ral splendors of the quiet vale.
The rein the bosom of the wide and
uncultured wilderness, with their own
personal exertions alone to depend on
they pursued the even tenor ot their
wny. It led to independence. Year
after year passed on, and each return
ing spring, saw vegetation springing
from 1., wly cultivated fields. The
scene indeed, was lar removed from
the influence of fashion, and the haunts
of pride ; but the earth yielded her
luxurious treasures in as rich abun
dance, as it did beneath the sunshine
of wealth’s proud splendour ; it was
as ready to make rich its vigilant luis
buudmen there as it was within the or
bit of the sun of civilization.
The bold enterpi isiug brothers laid
here the foundation obi rich and ex
tensive settlement, and peopled it in
process cf time with a virtuous and
industrious progency. Their child
ren brought up to labour, inured to
fatigue, and taught to be (economical
and careful, followed closely in the
path of lichos beaten by their parents.
I'he eldest of the brothers died at last;
his survivor lived to a more venerable
age. And it was when the snows of
more than ninety winters pressed up
on his head, that he sat one evening in
the door of his neat cottage, looking at
a kittle company of his great grand
children sporting on the green before
bis shaded door. The sun was retir
ing behind the western mountains,
and faintly threw his last beams upon
the blue waters of the silent river.
The bleating of numerous flocks of
sheep and the lowing of nu tnerous
herds fell like the music of ant umn on
his ear. His thoughts wandered back
to those early days, when in the con
fidence of youthful vigour, and the
blessing of providence lie first struck
an axe into the ancient oak of the thick
forest. It was on the very spot. He
recalled to memory, the house of his
father, which he had not now seen
for seventy years ; the recollections of
an elder and a beloved brother who
had once inhabited it. The goodly
heritage had lon , since passed io stran
gers. His brother was in the rest ap
pointed for all the living, and his
family scattered to the four winds of
heaven.
As he gave w ay to these tender and
sad associations his brother’s origi
nal circumstances and subsequent
life ranged themselves in view with
his own-—and he called his little fam
ily around him and thus addressed
them :
Listen my children to the voice of
age for age giveth experience, and
experience, maketh wise. You are
most of you the sons of comparatively
wealthy parents, as I was. Put for
tune frowned on me almost as soon
as I had become familiar with her
name ; she may frown on you. It is
beneath the dignity of man to bend un
der diappointments ; heaven has made
ample provisions for all. The world
is wide and, furnishes to each who
seeks it a congenial spot. I bent not
—you must not bend. Go and bear
with you the remem berance that, you
must all either build or support the
foundation ofyour happiness anil res
pectability-—depend not on others.—
He only is wise who applies himself
to gaining the means of an indepen
dent livelihood. Go, then; in your
young days provide for old age. Y our
time of labour is come—m : c is past.
I have found in iry life the truth of
three maxims—hudustry and Perse
verance is the roa Ito wealth. Depen
dance on the estates of others, is dan
generous, and Virtue is the only secu
rity for happiness. Go, and remem
ber you had an uncle who began the
world rich, and ended it poor and a
grand sire who began poor and ended
rich ; because the. former depend on
aninheritar.ee without care or fr-i
----tlence, the latter pressed all the ad
vantages of human (Economy into his
service depending wholly on himself.
And he, who in temporal matters Jeans
on another person will lean upon a bro
ken reed,
“ And oft a spear
On whose shorn point hope Meeds and peace
expires.”
There was a pathos in the old man’s
tone, a sanction in his history and a
commentary in his circumstances.—
They produced the wished-for effect,
and the families of die Kdgars are to
this day the wealthiest in ail the coun
ty they inhabit.
■—
CHARLES THOMPSON, F.SQ.
A gentleman from the west who has
long cherished a high regard for the
character of that irreproachable patri
ot and Christian, the late secretary of
the American continental Congress,
had a few weeks since no small grati
fication in spending several hours
with this venerable saint of patriar
chal aspect, now on the verge of heav
en. Many are still living, who well
remember with what confidence ev
ery act of the old congress, to which
his name w as attached was at once re
ceived by the people of these I nited
States in times of peculiar trial.
He is about six feet high, remarka
bly erect in his gait, neat in his per
son, dignified in his deportment, inte
resting in convesation, and has out
lived nearly ail his cotempoiaries,
being in his ninety second year.
lie resides about ten miles from Phi
ladelphia, m an ancient and retired,
but spacious mansion, a very exten
sive and weil cultivated farm, to
w hich he Iras given the name of Ham
ton.
The traveller called early in the
day, and louud Mr. Thompson read
ing Young's Night ‘Thoughts, lie
paused a little after entering the door
before he discovered himself, being
surprised and charmed at the distinct,
audible, cmphatical, appropriate and
feeling manner with which the good
old man pronounced one of the finest
passages in that admired author.
Alter u due introduction, Mr. T.
made the following rematks in refer
ence to what he had just read : “ I am
a stranger in a strange land : I am
looking about me to- see what 1 am,
and to see what there is for me to
do.”
The traveller was much pleased w ith
his miscellaneous observations, inter
spersed, as they were, with anecdotes
of former times. He was surprised to
hear him at his advanced age speak
with so much intelligence on various
subjects, ph(logical, religious aud po
litical ; yet occasionally he noticed
signs of a second childhood.
it appears that he was the third son
of John Thompson, and that he was
born in the county of Derry, Ireland,
in the town of Gortede, in the parish
of Maharaw, in the first week of Nov.
1731,but the particular day cannot
be specified, lie came, to America
with his father, when about ten years
oh!, accompanied with his brothers.
Dis father died on board the ship in
which they were passengers, after en
tering the Capes of Delaware ; and by
an act of injustice, his property, of
considerable amount was withheld
from the sons, then in their minority,
in a foreign count; v, without kindred,
without friends, w ithout money, left
to folios, the leadings ofDiw.e Povi
dence : yet they amply experienced
the protecting care of him who is the
father of the fatherless. Charles had
a great taste for learning, and was so
fortunate as to secure the patronage
and instruction of that distinguished
scholar, Dr. Aliison, and became one
of the greatest proficients in Latin,
Greek and French,in the country.
The longevity of his family is wor
thy of notice. Taking the children ol
John Thompson, in regular order these
are their names with their respective
ages —l. YY illiain who died at. the
age of 93; 2. Alexander who died at
die age of 80 ; 3 Charles who is now
in his 92d year; 4. Matthew died at
the age of 91 ; 5. John who died at the
age of 79; and 0. Mary, who is in her
84 th year, aud makes one of the fami
ly of Charles.
Mr. Thompson, in the course of con
versation, saiit, it was strongly im
pressed upon his mind, that he should
live until he entered upon his hund
redth year. The traveller asked him
how he felt under such an impression,
and whether he was willing to be so
long from his father’s house, in this
wearisome pilgrimage ? lie promptly
replied, “ I have no will about it. 1
have no will about it. 1 leave it all to
my blessed .Saviour, lie has been a
good Saviour to me,” anti the tears ol
gratitude started into his eyes.
Atone time lie mentioned with ten
derness and respect, the two worthy
ladies who had been his bosom com
panions in life. He then made this re
mark :“ I have been a happy man. I
have always been a happy man, a very
happy man. My family always loved
me, and I always loved them;” the
tears of affection glistening in his
eyes.
At dinner he asked a blessing with
uplifted hands, and a solemn and rev
erential tone of voice, using nothing
more nor less than the Lord’s prayer.
Recollectin'; his own criticisms and
version, instead of saying, “ lead us
not into temptation,” he said, “bring
us not to trial.”
He was an intimate and warm friend
of the late Dr. Franklin, and agreed
with him in every thing except reli
gion. To counteract the deistical
sentiments of this great philosopher,
, lie devoted more, attention to the Rible,
and with a critic’s eye, than he other
wise would have done. It was his di
ligent searching of the scriptures with
a view to the conviction of his distin
guished compatriot, which first led him
to contemplate a version of the Septu
agint. ‘
The traveller had mentioned to Mr.
Thompson a gentleman, with whom,
many years since, he was w ell acquain
ted, general IL A****, now of Md. who
was one of the revotutionary officers,
anil who had held a depatment under
the order of the old congaess. Mr.
T. recolected him well, and as the
traveller too his leave of hint he said,
to reference to general A. “ tell him
L wish his prosperity and happiness,
peace with God and peace with the
world. Mouey, money, money, is the
god of this world.”
The last sentence he had several
times uttered w ith great emphasis, in
the course of the interesting interview
which the traveller will not soon for
get.
An Irishman just landed on pur
shores, was straying about the wharves
near the Fulton Market, and observed
the fish in cars which were floating in
the dock, and occasionally saw their
owners open them and take out a quan
tity to expose for sale in the market.
The Irishman not being aware that
the fish are emptied in these cars from
the smacks to keep them alive, and
supposing them to be public property,
he enquired if there were any game
laws in this country.—lfeiiig informed
that there were none he immediately
supplied himself with a small drag net
and opening one of the cars he hauled
up a large mess of fine fish, ami ia the
presence of several persons, was con
gratulating himself on his good luck
in living in such a country, and was
proceeding home with his prize, when
the ow ners, to his utter astonishment
stopped lum and gallanted him to the
I’oiice,where he was charged with
stealing the fish. * Staling fish ?”
said the Irishman, “ Sure l cotch'd
them in the river, all alive and kick
ing.” Rut they are in floating cars, and
are private property” said the magis
trate. “ Private property ! ’fhe fish of
the ae to be private property ! 1 ax’d
if there were game laws here, as there
were in Ireland, and they tould me no;
and by the powers says I, this i> the
very country my jewel; and I Imp’d
inj self to a good bunch, and the people
all look'd at me and laughed ; staling
fish indeed ! I’m an honest man, your
lionauc, and never stale at all.”
As it was clearly apparent that no
robbery intended, lie w as dischar
ged, with admonitions not to be again
found fishing in troubled waters.
.A*. York Jhir.
Books by weight. —The Turkish go
vernment, it is said, has ordered the
nuc by w eight, of all the . 8
Constantinople. This is oei ;i |, H
Dutch governour’s sumtnaW', B
Hal lancing contested acc,’, Ull , ■
weighing the books of the )!| s !■
and giving his decision on t| lL *', H
the most weighty one. I
The following matrimonial .cornu i. H
i.*> cu|>ieti n rbuthn it titerntim. B
Lralttcboro ,1/t; r ,
Married in Randolph on tit / |fl
inst. by Mr. Dalis Ksq. Mr. jq ‘ B
Dean Non of james L. (lean ot in B
to Miss Naoma goutlet
the tl*ate noted mdian doctor..jß
of the former place after a mosts B
ousand distressing conn.hip B
two Months day and knight. H
in all other States are ,
cvpy the above. B’
‘1 111*— worthj > oung man a wo..i U o
Because his fortune led him 0 ‘ 1 ‘
bo Naoinaa She became his bride
That Sim might help him on his rid.- B’
This with care Deliver there. B
Old Huggins ask'd his ‘prentice, Lev; B
How long lie meant to serve the dn'i'i’* -h.
W hy, ijuolh the lad, w ilh looks tk-voi • B
“ ‘ on know, sir, w hen iny time i* 0 , 8
—b
On Cutting of Steel by Soft j ro , S
Extract of a lut'.er !o the Editor. lro;a*l B
Herman Daggett, Cornwall, Conn. ‘ B
“ ! take the liberty to comiin M jp l .,B
to you a fact which has lately <,B
my know-edge, and v.hich, 1
may be of considerable in meet ” I
ics, and pei Imps in philosophy.’ jB
may not, however be new to y< lU )’ B
“ Mr. Darns (a cabinet-maker
place) had occasion to repair a not B
cut saw (a saw to be used by two tier'll
sons) of a vt ry hard plate, which waa!-;|
require considerable labour in
usual way of filing? lie recoliectfß
having beared that the Shakers soiikß
times made use of what he called B
buzz, to cut iron. He thereforemadeH
a circulr plate of soft sheet ir,m B
piece of stove-pipe) fixed an axis to ,B
and put it in his lathe, which gave itfl
very powerful rotatory motion. \\yß
in motion he applied to it a cosuinefl
file, to make it perfectly round a!h }
smooth ; but the file was cut in
by it, while it received itself no is*,
pi ession. He then applied a piece of
rock crsytal, which had the desired
effect, lie then brought under it the
saw-plate, which in a few minutes wu
neatly and completely cut throng,
longitudinally. When lie stopped the
buzz, he found it had received nowea;
from the operation, and that he couhl
immediately apply his fingers to it
without leceiving much sensible
heat,
“ During the operation, thereappr e
ed a band of intense fire round tin
buzz, continually emitting sparks witi
great violence. He afterwards mark
ed the teeth, and in a short time ctn
them out by the same means. It sew
ed evident, that the buzz, in effecting
the division, never can e in actual
contact with the plate. Mas this lire
the electric fluid ! If so, might it no;
be obtained, in greater quantity, and be
made more effective for chemical pur
poses, by some such machine, than in
any other way r” Silliman’s Juur.
On the certainly of Death
If mankind were so vain and fooll
-to Hatter themselves tl 1 1 the dura
tion of their present state would b
eternal,nature and providence have ta
ken such care to undeceive theino 4
the importance of the point requi:
Scarce one day can pass without ex
hibiting sad spectacles of morE 7
jto the public eye. As mists and
pours, w hen exhaled, descend n rains
as fountains and rivers pour their luT
urns into the ocean, where thev are
undistinguishably lost; as every morn
ing sun rises but to decline ; by t‘ ■
same necessity, the same inviolable of
der of nature, man is born to die.—
When the sacred writings treat ‘d
human life, they consider our exo
tence here as an unsubstantial vap' ur >
which floating through the boundless
fields of air, is at last absorbed n> ‘ ,5
maternal element, nor leaves the dis
cernible vestige behind. They f'-'fl*
sider it as a flower in the field, which,
opening on the ravished eye, dispel’
the fairest colours of nature's inimi
table pencil; but soon the nip| ::n £
frosts or chilling winds blast, all’
grace ami beauty of its blooming ver ‘
dure, ami leave only its mclandio’J
ruins behind : that from these the
contemplative gazer may, with octj
fV*lt regtel lament the beauteous wp' c •
while lie presages his own. “Hutn*\ luu
has not left us to learn our fate i'"”
remote and ambiguous call - ■
load, how universal, how empnn ,| ->
how intelligible, how incessant
alarming is her voice ! It assume*
ery form that may engage our a • 111
tion, it darts upon the soul * n , l ,
thought, it speaks in every r cl
addresses ovary sense. It is let *•(
ties of consanguinity when broken, 1
is seen in the widow’s tears, -
heard in the shrieks of orphans- ‘
tomb, the insensible tomb is ever i’f’
to devour its prey ; while multd 0
of every sex and ac, fn"n ;
clino are constat tfy n*[d f,Vv !‘
the tiuik and silent domains of andf a
Maddo”