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GEORGIA COURIER.
I
3. G, M’WHOS.TSS.
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FOR THE GSOIKJIA COURIER.
THE
ECTI2WCS 01' IT^PZiTUOSXTy
A COLLEGE TALE.
( Continued.)
r f»e:i I resumed my place in the pas-
after having warmed and dried my-
!f hy the lire, the comparative comfort
my situation, contrasted with that in
tich I supposed Francis was placed,
ruck my nfeid so forcibly, that I felt an
[voluntary propensity to seek avain a
micipalion of h>3 danger and snfferin
tiioriiing»sufi, us it put to 'flight the linger
ing clouds, was now more bright and gay
than his countenance, yet these very
clouds as they moved slowly and reluc
tantly toward the horizon, seemed to say
they had not entirely deserted their do
minion, hut would, at some future period,
assert it with increased force and violence.
They admirably represented his occa
sional fury, now indeed, expelled and sub
dued by his efforts, but lowering in the
horizon and threatening hereafter to over
whelm this calm in his feelings, and again
to rise in the whirlwind of passion and
maniacy.
Afier this adventure I carefully avoid
ed even the most distant reference to the
subject of his misfortunes or his conduct;
for whalever might be my curiosity,—and
now indeed it was infinitely increased,—I
knew, by experience, that if gratified, it
mnst be at too great an expense. The
mystery, so far from being cleared up,
ture, and niy reverie would perhaps have
continued much longer had I not been
aroused by an interruption as sudden as
it was unexpected. A slight and cautious
touch on my shoulder caused me to look
to see who was the intruder. The flick
ering light fell upon a dark and melancho
ly countenance, that seemed the property
of the dead. I started back with horror,
and looked with terror upon the indistinct
outlines of a figure, which seemed that of
a wretched maniac, or else of a tenant of
the grave, just escaped from its thraldom.
I could not move from my situation, but
remained intently regarding the dreary !
Love is impatient, aud Harriet counted
the tedious minutes as she sat at her win
dow and listened for the well known rap.
The clock struck nine, aud yet Leland
did not appear ;she thought she had been
neglected of late, but then the flowers, he
knew they were favorites of hers, and
she thought, to receive them from his
band, and hear him say, Harriet forget me
not, would be sweet atonement for ninny
little offences past, But ouce the thought
stole to her bosom: peehaps they are des
tined for another! She banished it with
a sigh,, and it had hardly escaped her ere
Charles Leland entered. She rose tore-
—
spectre that stood before me, with mingled j ceive him, and he gently took lifer hand!
sensations of awe and fear. If it were a j * Accept’ said he, ‘my humble offering,
human being, his appearance indicated • and forget me’-Harriet interrupted him as
the most squalid misery and wretched
ness
he attempted to put a single flower in her
‘ where is the other’ said she as
and his neglected beard, his long j bosom
and busby hair, his body, half naked, all l she playfully put back bis band. A mo-
evinced that he could not be in habits of! merit’s silence ensued ; Charles appeared
interview with men.
was increasing around me; -but however care we,e indelibly stamped upon his
desirable an explanation of it might be, I 1 countenance; want and misery seemed to
resolved never again to hazard such fear- j have joined iu making the desolate wreck
ful consequences, as had already been oc- ' humanity, and the most sickly, disor-
casioncd, by my incautious curiosity.— ! dered imagination could not have conjured
L , Hence, instead of pressing upon any topic i U P» ^ or its own torment, a more frightful
for were my ideas of his danger, or fears j 1,iat might lead to an explanation, every j aud squaHd phantom. Yet there was a
for his safety, in the smallest" degree di- j thing having such a tendency, was studi- ! ot penetration and intelligence einit-
ninished, by ’ ' 1 11 11 1 •'
[the violence
however, the
abate, and
the experience I just lmd of • >us, y avoided; and frequently the grateful j (:d froin beneath his dark eye-lashes, that
of the storm. At length feelings produced by this course of con- i odered convincing proof, that he was not
furv of the tempest began duc, » were observable in the manners of i nj w destitute of reason. I here was too
ipest
die muttering of the
Francis, and showed that it was d
suppose it a
listant receding thunder showed that na- 1 predated by him. A dark shade
ture, fatigued by her exertion, was about
to sink into a temporary repose. The
wind no longer drove the falling torrents,
dense sheets through the atmosphere;
ness would sometimes ruffle the usual se
renitv of his countenance, lut a
duly ap- j nn, ch of realiiy for me to
2 of sad- i phantom, and yet while I was suspended
_ ' in doubt and apprehension, I was utterly
_ ! unable to speak, so strange, so sudden, so
fence to some lively subject of conversa- j unaccountable and overwhelming was the
tion, was commonly sufficient to dispel the
but it was now hushed into the soft, still j g| oom i a »d it passed away without produ-
sighing of expiring violence, and formed ! C ‘“S any effects worthy of particular ob
it tit and mournful accompaniment for the ! se fvation. I was further encouraged to
monotonous pattering of the rain, as it i dds course of conduct, because it carried
fell from the eaves of the house. Altho’ ; w ‘ ! ‘‘ it the satisfaction of apparently ren-
the approaching calm had its effect on my ! der ‘ n 3 his situation much more comforta-
mind, and in some degree quieted my j hie than it would otherwise have been;
fears for my friend, I was not.sufficiently I and although I was continually on the
nt ease to retire to my room. AJready ! rac h °f tormenting curiosity, I could con-
had the melancholy twelve, tolled from
the neighboring clock, and its deep tones
were accordant with the surroundinggloom
and silence. I kept my place with con
tinued anxiety, and eagerly turned at
every footstep I heard; but Francis had
not yet come. A few tardy students
came up, one sifter the other, and either
passed me in silence, or, after a brief in
quiry as to the cause of such solitary vi
gils, retired to their rooms, to enjoy a rest
peculiarly agreeable, when contrasted with
my solicitude and watching.
Even these occasional interruptions had
tor some time ceased, and nought remain
ed to disturb the lonely quiet of the hour,
'xcept the dripping of the rain and the
melancholy moaning of the whip-poor-
will, which seemed endeavoring to con
sole himself for want of company hy his
solitary cries. Except myself and the
lonely bird, all nature appeared to be
lulled into repose; but still T saw nothing
of Francis. A slow deliberate step was
presently heard upon the stairs, and, with
hopes suddenly renewed, I listened to it
with breathless anxiety. I thought
>t could he no other than Francis,
but not wishing to bo seen by him, I re
tired to an obscure part of the passage,
where I could observe him without expo
sing myself to his vie v. The lamp in my
room cast an imperfect light into the pas
sage, by which I was enabled to observe
the countenance of Francis, as he went
to his room. It had lost all its violent
excitement, but the deepest marks ofde-
pression occupied the place of agitation,
and his vehemence had all fled, or rather,
settled down into a less perturbed state of
grief and abstraction. The dripping mois
ture of his hair and his garments was suf
ficient proof, that he had not sought shel
ter from the pelting storm, and his gene
ral appearance was so wan, so sorrowful,
and yet so composed, that, even had I the
desire, I could not have ventured to dis
turb him. I felt as if the impropriety
and even the sacrilege would be as great,
as to disturb the tenant of the grave, in
one of its visits to the habitations at once
loved so well. Satisfied with seeing him
return in safety to his room, I followed
his example in retiring, and enjoyed my
repose lor the remainder of the night, in
a much more perfect state of composure
and content than I could before have ex
pected.
The rising sun and the cheering tones
of tiie chapel bell, aroused me from rav
slumbers and called the students to the
morning service. The beauty and tran
quillity of the morning formed a strikins
contrast to the stormy night that preceded
it. I observed, with some degree of anx
iety, the groups of students as they as-
: *mbled, to see if I could recognise amour''
their well known faces, the countenance
of him whose absence had occasioned so
great anxiety the night before. He came,
and as he quietly took ins usual seat, not
even the closeness of my observation could
discover any thing extraordinary in bis
appearance. The same composed, seri
ous countenance, that he usually wore,
and no greater degree cf melancholy,
! ceal its effects for the sake of contributing,
in some degree, to his enjoyment, and in
excluding from his mind more melancholy
reflections. lie was now more frequently
in company and seemed to take greater
pains than usual to avoid solitude; not
effect of Ids unexpected appearance.
There was a mingled expression of calm
ness and resolve in the dark countenance
of the being that stood looking down upon
me, and fur some minutes both of us re
mained too much occupied with our own
thoughts to break the spell-bound silence.
At length he spoke: “Do yon not
know me?” said he, in a slow and solemn
tone. It was the voice of Francis! and
as I uttered aloud iiis name, he advanced
to offer his hand. I eagerly snatched it
in mine, and the firmness and solidity of
his grasp, thoroughly convinced me of
the materiality of my visitor; and yet the
cold and chilly touch of his long fingers
that he appeared to relish or be pleased ! "’as almost sufficient to raise another doubt.
with the enjoj'ments of society, for in the
midst of mirth he was frequently absent
and unhappy, but because he feared to be
alone. I saw that he was miserable and
that some dreadful secret pieyed upon his
mind, and gangrened all his happiness;
and sometimes so deep and sombre was
his melancholy, that I could not avoid the
suspicion that it could not be owing en
tirely to misfortune. Yet from mv know
ledge of his character, I could not willing
ly entertain the idea that remorse occa
sioned any portion of his grief. During
my acquaintance with him, his conduct
was universally so generous and honora
ble, and his general demeanor so upright
and correct, that I could not believe him
capable of committing any act that could
so much embitter his existence. Many
an hour did I spend in conjuring up to
my mind the thousand conjectures that
occurred, to account for his unhappiness ;
1 ut none of them were satisfactory or cor
rect. *
Not long after his nocturnal exposure,
we were again walking together at a con
siderable distance from the village. We
observed at a distance a servant coming
rapidly towards jus on horseback and lead
ing another horse ready equipped for ri
ding; at first neither of us paid particular
attention to the incident; but when he
approached nearer, Francis seemed some
what agitated, and hastily left my side.—
He ran to the servant, who stopped at his
approach a few words, that I could
not hear, passed between them, and in a
moment Francis was mounted on the
charger. They turned; and, as the fare
well rung upon my astonished ears, they
disappeared at full speed, and in a few
moments the only sound that reached me
was the distant and receding trampling of
the horses’ feet. * * * *
This was the last that I heard of I- van
cis for some months, and although I ad
dressed several letters to the place of his
supposed residence, no answer was re
ceived, and I remained in all the anxiety
of doubt and suspense. Weeks and months
rolled on with rapid pace, and my mo
ments were frequently occupied in reflec
tions on the mystery which enveloped his
conduct and character, and in conj -ctures
ol his present situation and the causes of
his long absence. The seasons in their
regular progress came and passed in order,
and now the reign of winter was forgotten
antid the renovating influence of spring,
and the warmth ol the weather showed
that summer was not far in advance. On
one evening, as I returned to the college
from my meals, mv nflnd seemed more
engrossed than usual, by the pervading
subject of my recollections; ulii-h, so
frequently occupied my mind and the me
lancholy reflections of past events and of
the mysterious Francis, stole with over
powering force over my soul. I felt no
His appearance now was somewhat simi
lar to the appearance he exhibited on his
return to his room, on the tempestuous
night, when he wandered alone in the
woods. The same calmness was there,
but now mixed with deeper wrought and
more engrossing grief, and it was the stern
calmness of despair. The meanness and
negligence of his diess showed that he
must be an outcast from society; and his
whole appearance stamped upon my mind
the conviction that he was now a confirm
ed lunatic, and that the present was one
of the intervals in which a slight inter
mission of the violence gj’his malady gave
an opportunity for departing reason to re
turn and once more, fora period, assert
her temporary dominion, in a few expir
ing attempts to resume her former sway.
My astonishment at recognizing my
friend in the wretched and disconsolate
figuro before me, had a similar effect to
that produced by his sudden appearance.
For some time after I discovered who it
was, I could say nothing; and it was not
until bespoke again, that I regained pos
session of my speech. With a voice
whose solemnity rung upon my ears, as if
it were emitted from the grave, he at
length addressed me:
“You see me for the last time, and I
come only to fulfil the promise I made to
disclose the cause and history of my mis
fortunes. You must go with me and hear
a narrative of too much horror to be re
vealed in this place H tale of wo and of
crime which few mortals shall ever know.”
He tu ned and was leaving the room,
but my doubts and apprehensions still
chained me to the spot, and I could not
resolve to accompany him, without at least
demanding whither he would lead me.
“ Where will I lead you?” he answer
ed, “follow me;” aud seeing that I still
•hesitated, he looked sorrowfully at me,
and, with a complaining voice, continued,
“I thought that I had one friend left.—
Fool that I was, the wretched, the unfor
tunate have no friends ! Alas, miserable
that I am ! I know that I merit notyour
friendship ; but I wished to show you that
I value it;—I did not aspire to your es
teem, but I thought I could claim your
pity. In this, too, I am disappointed, and
now farewell—farewell forever !”
He started hastily away; but I could
not bear to have him leave me thus ab
ruptly; I called him again, and told him
to lead the way and that I was now ready
to follow wherever he would lead me.
r To be continued.]
The deepest lines embarrassed, and Harriet recollecting
herself blushed deeply and turned it off;
hut the flower was not offered again, and
Charles ha 1 only said^argef me !
This could^not have been all he intend
ed to say, but mutual reserve, rendered
the remainder of the interview cold, formal
& insipid ; <fc when Leland took his leave,
Harriot felt more than ever dissatisfied.—
As it was not yet late in the evening, she
resolved to dissipate the melancholly that
this little interview, in spite ofail her ef-
foits to laugh at it, left on her mind, by
spending a few minutes at a neighbour’s,
whose three daughters were her most inti
mate companions.
The youngest of these ladies was a gay
and interesting girl; and was the first to
meet and welcome her young friend, but
as she held out her hand, Harriet discov
ered a little flower: it was a forget-mc-
uof^ she examined it—it was Leland’s ;
the mark she had made upon it, when she
took it it from the basket of the flower
girl, was there. This was at the mo
ment, an unfortunate discovery. She
had heard that Charles frequently visited
the family ; and that he he had even paid
attention to Jane; but she had never be
fore believed it ; and now she shuddered
at the idea of admiting that, for once, ru
mour told truth. * Where did you get
that pretty flower, Jane,’ said she. Oh
a beau to be sure,’ said Jane archly; don’t
you see, a—Forget-me-not;’ and as she
took back the flower, ‘I should not like
to tell you where I gott it; I’ll wear
it on my bosom though—come sing:—
I’U dearly love this pretty flower.
For his own sake who bid me keep it—
I’ll wear it on my bosom, s———”
(From the Philadelphia Album.]
(original.)
“Who is that beautiful girl?” inquired
Henry B—of his friend, “ I never saw so
sweet a countenance !” “ That,” an
swered his fiiend, “ is Miss H—, the rich
heiress ; but I wonder you can think her
beautiful; her affectation and vanity,
which one can see at the first glance, arc
enough to destroy the effect of her beau
ty,” “ Pardon me,” exclaimed Henry,
« the lady I mean cannot be vain or af
fected, her countenance expresses the ve
ry reverse ; you must have mistaken the
lady at whom I was looking; she went
into that milincr’s shop ; there might have
been another lady with her.” “We will
^ee,” returned his friend. They accord
ingly walked past the shop, and saw the
modest and interesting Mary S—, who
was personally known to the friend of
Henry, Miss II—was also there, and the
contrast between them was striking, as it
respects dress and ornament; but no more
so than that which their general deport
ment and manners exhibited. “ Those
young ladies,” said Henry’s friend, “ are
often together, and yet there is not the
least similarity between them, but they
are related, and live in the same house,
which accounts for it. Indeed, if report
speaks truth, poor Mary has not a very
enviable companion in her haughty and
affected cousin, whom I suspect, con
siders her merely as a foil to set oft'!
her own charms; and who I have heard
often treats the sweet girl with un
ing rudeness. Mary is an orphan, and
under the sole guardianship of the father
eight feet, anti weighed omd pounds
undisturbed, they are perfectly harnife
never attacking, unless first attacked ’
They generally keep themselves in
of-tlie-way places. J!J! '
The mention of one being killed
Malden, in our last paper, seemed to ir-
ny rather a singular circumstance but
is said that there has been, and probab!-'
are now, many of them in the vicinity i
Malden Mount. There was a f ew Vf ...
since, an old Indian who freq uen ,j. 3
caught them alive, and brought then /
this town to exhibit. Malden Mount j 3
very rocky, wild place, perhaps more
a slate of nature than any other spot with ’
in many miles.
The late John Adams.—The tollo*j ri .
Anecdote of this deservedly distinguish^
citizen, which the narrator, heard f ro "
his own lips, will shew that this Count-
owes to a singular circumstance all
eminent services which this great Patriot
<fc Statesman performed for his belove)
Country.
Joseph Adams, the grandfather of Job-
who was an original proprietor of Brain!
tree, was one ot eight sons of John Adams
who was a persecuted religionist from En
gland. The late John Adams, it appear!
when young, was not distinguished for ar!
ardent love oflearning. Study was irk
some to him.
imjuiu . *’ When 1 was a boy (the old man was
bernm- beard frequently to say, even to the he
days of his life,) I had to study Lati:
Grammar; but it was dull and I hatedir
, j lege and therefore I studied the gram
j j till I could bear with it no longer;
UliliLl IUL OUiL gum UiauOiillJ lilU lUiULl | /» . . * *
of Miss II— ; she is an amiable as well as ; ,* ^ at , c , r u a ,^ an A 10lJS s ? nd 1710 to Col-
beautiful girl ; her father’s affairs were
much embarrassed when he died ; and
you see she has sense enough to acco'm- ... , -
modate hor dress to her circumstances. It j 1 e stu V, and asked iOr some other em-
is perfectly neat, but very plain,” Hen- j ^ t . uas . °PP osin g bis wishes
ry thought he had never seen so becom- Ml 11 , f uas quick.in 1ms answer.—‘ Well
ing a dress. His feelings were interested! °.. 111 ’ sai ie » d Latin grammar does not
ammar
anc
going to my lather, I told him I did no:
by this brief account of the young lady
whose appearance had so much pleased
him, and begged his friend to introduce
Mary. The introduction was soon ac
complished, aud Henry was more pleased
with the manners and conversation of Ma
ry than lie had been with her appearance.
The sweetness and modesty of her be
haviour, contrasted with the vain and af
fected manners of her wealthy cousin, was
peculiarly striking. Miss H. was jealous
of the attention paid to her unassuming
companion, and treated her with all the j
suit you, you may try ditching, perhnp.
that will ; my meadow yonder needs
ditch, and you may put by Latin a id trv
that.’
■ This seemed a delightful change, and
to the meadow I went. But I soon found
ditching harder than Latin, and the first
forenoon was the longest I ever experien
ced. That day I eat the bread of labor,
and glad was 1 when night came on. That
night I made some comparison between
Latin grammar and ditching, but said not
a word about it. I dug the next forenoon,
IT.0M THE EMPORIUM.
showed that there were no longer any inclination for reading or study, and sat
remaining effects of his recent excitemenr. • for some hours at the window’ admiring
I could not but admire the coincidence the calmness and serenity of the night,
in the changes of the weather, with those j which was so congenial to the soft Influ-
ihat exhibited themselves in his conduct : | encc of my thoughts. The depth and
THE TWIN FLOWERS.
“ Will you buy my flowers,” said a neat
looking girl, addressing herself to a young
lady in Chesnut Street, and bolding out at
the same time a small basket containing
some beautiful roses, “they are all newly
blown and fresh ; b.uy a red rose for your
hair, Miss; here’s one that will look de
lightful twined among those pretty locks.”
Not a rose my child” said the young la-
and the feeling of the moment involunta- ; gloom of my feelings gradually increased, ■ dv “ there are thorns among them—but
lily suggested to mv mind that some sym- ; and bow tiie expiring flame of the candle
pa thy must exist between his history and ! burnt down to the socket, admonished
the weather, and that the very elements me of the lateness of the hour, but to no
were interested in his fate. The lower- 1 effect, for in such a state of mind I could
ing of the overhanging clouds of the eve- j not have slept. I felt peculiarly disposed
iiing, w is iu hard aud dreadful consonance j to give a free rein to the influence of my
with tke gloom that hung upon his mind; ; feelings and reflections, and abandoning
die warfare of the elements did not ap-j myself without resistance to their opera-
pear superior, in force and fury, to the
dreadful storm of his passions, that suc
ceeded in bis wandering, and the most
violent tempest asserted its reign cotcm-
jioraneously, over the unfortunate Francis
and over the surrounding atmosphere.—
Then the comparative calm that succeed
ed, iu u nidi nature sunk in dreary ex
haustion, was similar to the disconsolate
melancholy he exhibited on his return to ,
h>«r?2tn; and ff the cheering light of the
tion, I became completely absorbed, and
almost unconscious of my situation. Re
sistance would have been unavailing, and
the deep influence of my reflections came
over me with a power as uncontrollable
as it was complete, and an almost invo
luntary sensation forced me quietly to
submit. I leaned upon the table, with
my head upen my arms, and devoted my-
sedf entirely to these dreams of the past.
Fer a long time I remained in this pcs-
I’ll take this little flower, it looks lively
and sweet, oh it’s a Forget-me-not!’ par
don me, Miss,’ replied’the child, ‘that
flower is engaged,* ‘To whom!’ To
master Cha’s. Leland.’ ‘ Charles Leland,
indeed’ said the lady—‘ well, but here’s
another, what a beautiful pair !’ ‘ they are
all twin flowers—they are both for that
gentleman said the little girl. ‘ Oh, a fig
for him !’ said the young lady ; but an arch
smile played upon her cheek as she said
it, and something sparkled in her beautiful
dark eye that told a tale her lips refused to
utter: while she ingeniously marked both
the favorite flowers, and retured them to
the basket; then choosing a little bunch
of roses, she walked home, leaving the
flower girl to visit the rest of her custom
ers.
, ‘Ilush Jane’ said Harriet, interrupting
her; ‘my head aches, your singing dis
tracts me.’ ‘Ah it’s your heart,’ said
Jane, ‘or you would not look so dull.’ Well
ifit is my heart,’ said Harriet, as she turn
ed to conceal her tears, ‘it dont become
you to trifle with it.’ She intended to con
vey a double meaning in this reply, but it
was not taken, and as soon as possible, she
returned home.
A sleepless night followed: Harriet felt
that she was injured; and the more she
thought about it the more she felt. She
had engaged her hand to Leland six
months before ; the time appointed for-
their union was approaching fast, and he
acted thus ! ‘ If he wants to be freed from
his engagement,’ said she to herself, ‘ I
will give him no troubb,’ and she sat
down and wrote, requesting him to dis
continue his visits. She wept over it a
flood of tears : but she was resolute until
she had despatched the note to his resi
dence. Then she repented of if, and then
again reasoned herself into the belief that
she had acted right. She waited for the
result; not without many anxiously cher
ished hopes that he would call for an ex
planation. But she only learned that the
letter was delivered into his hands ; and
about a month afterwards he sailed forEnu-
latid.
This was an end to the matter. Charles
went into business in Liverpool, but nev
er married; and Harriet remained single,
devoting her life to the care of her aged
mother, and ministering to the wants cf
the poor and distressed around her.
About 40 years after Leland left Phil
adelphia, Harriet paid a visit to New York
and dining in a large company one day,
an old gentleman, who it seemed was a
bachelor, being called upon to defend the
fraternity to which he belonged, from the
aspersions of some af the company, told
a story about Philadelphia, and a court
ship and an engagement, which he alleg
ed was broken off by his capricious mis
tress, for no other reason than his offering
her a sweet new blown forget-me-not, six
weeks before she was to have been made
bis wife. ‘ But was there no other cause’
asked Harriet, who sat nearly opposite
the stranger, and eyed him with intense
curiosity-” none,to my knowledge, as hea
ven is my witness.” ‘ Then what did you
do with the other flower!’ said Harriet;
the stranger gazed in astonishment; it was
Leland himself, and he recognized his
Harriet, though half a century had passed
since they net; and before they parted,
the mischief made by the twin flowers
was all explained away, and might have
been forty years before, had Charles said
he had lost one of the forget-me-nots, or
had Jane said she had found it. The'old
couple never married : but they corres
ponded constantly afterwards, and I always
thought Harriet looked happier after this
meeting than she had ever looked be
fore.
Now I have only to say at the conclusion
of my story, to my juvinile reader ; nev
er let an attachment be abruptly broken
off, let an interview and a candid expla
nation speedily follow every misunder
standing. For the tenderest and most val
uable affections when won, will be the
easiest wounded; and beleive me, there
is much truth in Tom Moore’s senti
ment:—
“A something light as air, a look,
A word unkind or wrongly taken—
The love that tempest never shook,
A breath—a touch like this has shaken."
companion, ana treated tier wan all tne | " - ......
pretty scorn which little maids are apt to j a,ld wanted .}.° r . 0,urn to Eatin at dinner,b.i:
affect for those to whom fortune has been lf Was ' lun,d,a ting, and I could not do it.
sparing of her favours, more especially if
nature has been bountiful. Her own per
sonal attractions which were great, had i
they not been obscured by ridiculous van- I
ity, were heightened by all the aids of:
dress and ornament, and hitherto she had
been gratified by observing, that general- ;
Iy in the circle in which they moved, her !
own elegance and fashion, aided by her i
coquetish airs, had attracted that attention 1
which she was ambitious to obtain,—while j
the unobtrusive charms of Mary, had been |
suffered to pass unnoticed. But that cir- !
cle was not composed of the discerningand j
enlightened, who are capable of apprecia- |
ting met it, and looked with coldness on '
beauty and fashion, unless accompanied I
by goodness and modesty. With respect
to their new visitors, Henry B—’ and his
friend, the scene was changed, and Miss
-H—soon perceived that in Mary she had
a powerful rival. This was to her peculi
arly mortifying, as, on account of his for
tune, and the elegance of his person, she
considered Henry a conquest worth ma
king. Her artillery of airs and graces,
was, however played ofi'in vain. Unaf
fected sweetness and modesty carried the
day ; and in due time, Mary became the
happy wife of Henry B , while, for
At night toil conquered pride, and 1 told
my father, one of the severest trials ofmv
life, that, it lie chose, I would go back to
Latin Grammar. He was glad oi'ir ; and
if I have since gained any distinction, i:
lias been owing to the two days- labour
that abominable ditch ”
The following statement of the gallant
j conduct of a sailor on board of the steam-
j boat Perry, was banded us by Mr. Wm.
; K. Rule, of this city, ("St. Lnuis.^
John Mandeville, commonly called Jack
j Mandeville, a sailor by occupation, was
j one ot the hands employed on board the
j keel boat O. II. Perry, at the time shu^
j was attacked by the Winnebago Indians,
I and signally distinguished himself, hy ral-
j tying all hands to battle and exertion,
I compelling some with his bayonet to their
j dut y, a ad by his deliberate and daring bra
very in getting out at the bow of the boat,
and shoving oft, whilst the Indians wen
firing on him,exclaimed, as lie went out,
“damn it, boys, it won't do to be butchered
and let the boat be taken aground-—if
Jack is killed, it will be in a good cause,
so here's push off the boat." In this
he succeeded, and in getting her under
weigh, but not without a number of bul-
any thing I know to the contrary, Miss | lets'having passed through his clothing
II—is still practising her airs of coquetry ! r - — ■
j some of which raised the skin. When he
1 ' vas a P :i iu on board he cried, “ damn you~
! eyes shoot better or quit "
| To the intrepidity of Jack is to be at-
! tributed 'he failure of the Indians and the
; preservation of the boat and crew, ami
also of the keel boat General Ashley, tliet
i a few minutes astern of the Perry. Hue
I they succeeded in capturing tho one, the
tlesnake inhabits North America. It is of 1 other could not well have escaped. Ought
a yellowish brown color, and from three j I!ot mu n to be noticed ? Ought he
to five feet in length. The rattle is fixed | pot to receive the thanksf of his fellow-cit-
to tiie end of the tail ; is composed of drv ! * ze ns ? Ifhe had been an officer iu the
hollow bones nearly of the same shape J army,- he would have received thanks and
and size. Naturalists have been perplex- | promotion—but fighting, as he did, with*
od with regard to the object of this instru- i out any view to fame or reward, his cou-
ment; some haye thought it designed to j du ct is doubly meritorious.
and affectation, on the silly beaux bv whom
she is surrounded. ’ IL M.
]From the Charlestown, (Bucher IIitl) Aurora ]
THE RATTLESNAKE.
Of this animal there are five species,
all natives of America. The banded rat-
wam other animals of their danger
others to charm ; but this last opinion is
now nearly exploded. It may be that the
appearance of the snake, to creatures who
instantly recognize it for their mortal en
emy, and the sound of the rattie, (which
is the signal for execution,) impresses them
with terror, which withers all the energies
of their frame.
Rattlesnakes have been known to en
ter houses, and sometimes to insinuate
themselves into beds. Their bite is poi
sonous and rapidly fatal, and has beeu
known to kill a man in a few minutes.—
By the Indians, when their bite is receiv
ed in a fleshy part, the knife is used with
all possible despatch. In slight cases
roots are used; in some they suck the
wound ; but if a principalNein is pene
trated with tfce animal’s full strength, the
case is abandoned as hopeless. From
experiments made on dogs, by the bite of
a snake, one was killed in a quarter of an
hour; another, bitten afterwards, in
two hours, and a third, bitteD last, in three.
The animal has been made to bite itself,
and the wound proved fatal in about
twelve rrfinutes. It is said to have the
singular faculty of swallowing its young,
on the approach of danger, and disgorging
them when it has passed by. This has
been observed by Mr. Bouvais,
In the winter they are gregarious, and
secure themselves from the rigor of the
season by withdrawing deeply into the
earth. A fair day may some times bring
them out, they will be weak, and may then
be taken without danger. Catesby, who
has paid particular attention jo this animal
The above information is from
who were on board.
those
The following observations from tho
American Quarterly Review on a work
entitled “ Political Syolcm of America
niet it the serious attention of the friends
to a permanency of our Union :
\Yhen he denies that there are anv
dangers to be apprehended from an oppo
sition by the State Governments to the
measures of the General Government,
and professes to regard the Federal Judi
ciary as a sufficient stay and barrier of its
legitimate powers, we must be permitted
to enter our caveat against too strong a re
liance on this support. It is our deliberate-
opinion that the union of the State's, in its
existing form, has much more to appre
hend from the State Governments than
from any cnroachment by the Confedera
tion. It would lead us too far from our
subject, and engross too many cf the pa
ges allotted to us, to state our reason for
this conviction as fully as we would wish-
It may be sufficient to suggest to our au
thor, that he had not given their due
weight to the great and rapidly encreas-
mg strength of some of the States, to their
organized power for good or evil, and to
the comparative intensity of the popular
attachment to the State authorities.—
These are incidents to our Federative po
sition which seem to require of all men
who love freedom, and duly prize our ines
timable Constitution, that they should la
bor, without ceasing, to discourage theo
retic jealousies of the General Govern-
, . , - ment, and to render its ordinary operations
says the largest he ever saw, was in length i as palatable as they are salutary.”