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Georgia Gazetta
To ail the humane and charitable, tfpecietUy tbfe “stbofe authority and ojice may
lead them to confider the case of the poor.
The MEMORIAL of a number of Orphans, in behalf of therafelves and
ipch as may hereafter be in their present situation.
Humbly Jbe<vetb,’
m ’■♦HAT your memorial!ft* are informed, and verily Relieve to be
f I ‘ true, that upwards of thirty years ago, the Rev. Mr. W.
being then miniiler at Savannah, conceived a fchenie to
make provision for the poor in this then infant colony, and
with that intent applied to the Truflees for a trail of land to
build an Orphanhoufe thereon, which land was accordingly given to him
in trull for that purpose. That that gentleman, by hit unwearied labours,
for that pnrpofe obtained charitable contributions, and accordingly, in
the year 1739, eretled a very large and commodious house, with nece.Tary
outbuildings, for the reception of orphans and poordeferted children, on
• the land alloted him by the Trustees, which house Hill cxiils, and Mr.
W. ltirnfclf having given very large private donations, a considerable
number of children have from time to time been educated and maintain
ed'therein, for which your memorialills hope the blefling of chose ready to
perish will ever rest on him and the rest of their generous benefactors.
Your memorialifts with inexpreffibleconcern are informed, that repre
friitations have been made to thak worthy gentleman, by persons whom
t they cannot look upon as their wellwithers, that this province being at
present in a very flouytlhing condition, an Orphanhoufe is no longer ne
ceflarf, and that thereupon the said Rev. Mr. W. consented to convert
the Orphanhoufe into a College, to be called as the Orphanhoufe now is
‘Bethefda, and to make a free gift of all the lands, negroes, and chattels,
hitherto called the Orphanhoufe Eftatc, for the present founding and fu
tufe support of the abovefaid College.
-Yqur memorialifts, u/iable to fee any peifon to undertake their cause,
and conceiving, by the kindness of the original donor?, they have foaac
equitable claim in the premises, beg leave to aver, that their number,
forthefe four years pall, hath been as great, or greater, than ever it was
ftnee the fettling of this province, and that they find with thecncreafe of
4he inhabitants the objects of charity are also likely to cncreafe in propor
tion.
.Your memorialifts also beg leave to observe, that, besides the loss of
tta ** Orphanhoufe Eftatc,” which would fall very heavy upon them,
your memorialifts also are apprehensive, that, should the donations once
kindly bellowed upon them be liable to be diverted to any othe purpose,
qr to be bellowed upon orphans imported (as ’tis said to be likely to be the
case) from England, where there are aftually so many noble endowments
to the poor, ipiny charitable persons in America nrght be difeouraged
hereafter to bellow their alms on so changeable a footing.
Your memorialifts are informed, that, in the intended College, (upon
their land to be built) provision will be made for fome poor or orphan stu
dents, and HEREAFTER SMALL exhibitions may be given to orphans,
provided they enter as SERVITORS to the Commoners; but your me
morialifts beg leave to observe, that hunger and nakedness cannot be
cured by academical cxercifes, and that this proposal would entirely ex
clude the weaker felt.
Your memorialifts humbly pray ihat their case may be taken into con
sideration, and that they may be further heard on this matter if neeefla
ry. In forma pauperis.
Prov. xxiii. v. to and 11. Remove not tit-old land-mark ; and enter not
into the fields of the fat her left. For their redeemer is mighty ; bs Jbull plead tbar
■Oau/e ’with tint.
Consolatory Sentiments on tbt Death of a Child, written It a Friend.
Dear S r. /
THERE is a nettling worm in every flower along the path of life, and,
while we admire the spreading leave* and unfolding blofTom, the
traitor often confumesthe root, and all the beauty falls. You are not fur
prized that my letter opens with a serious reflation on the fleeing state of
■earthly pleasures. This my>freqoent theme will continue, I believe, till
any eyes are (hut upon this world, and I repose on a bed of dull.—The
son of iforrow can teach you to tremble over every blefling you enjoy.
Pay now, to thy living friend, the tear which was reserved for his grave.
I have undergone one of the severest trials human nature can experience,
f have seen a dear and only child, the little companion of all my hours of
leisure, the delight of my eyes, the pride of my heart, struggling in ago
nies of pain, while I poured over him my tears and prayers to Heaven in
vain, rhtve seen hith dying,'—dead,—coffined,—I nave killed him in his
flirowd,—l have taken the last farewell,—l have heard the bell call him
to the silent vault,—and am now no more a father.—l am lUbbcd to the
heart, cot to the brain.
i.. > -*i. i 1 letteri letbalit arttndo. Virg.
With what tender care was the boy nurfrd !—How often has he been
the pleading burden of my arms l—What hours of aiixiety for his welfare
WEDNESDAY , Apr,l 5, ,769.
have I felt!—What endearing amusements for him invented !—Amiable
was his person, sensible his mind.—All who saw loved him,—all who
knew him admired a genius which outran his years. The fun no fomsr
arose than it was eclipsed. N1 sooner wa the flower opened, than it was
cut down. My mind eagerly revolves every moment of pall joy.— -AH the
parental affeflions rulh like a torrent and overwhelm me.—Wherever I go
I fee.n to fee and hear him, turn round and lose him.
What does this world present, but a long wa:k of raifery anddefolaiion?
—ln tears man is bocn, in agonies he dies.—What fills up the interval i
—Momentary joy-: and lading pains.—Within, a war of paftionsj without,
tumult and reign. Fraud, oppre/Bon, riot, rapine, blood huL
murder, (ill up the tragick talc of every day ; so that a wife ma mull ofl
ten wilh to have his curtain dropt, and the feene of vanity and vexuhn
closed.—To me, a chureh-yard is a plealing walk My feet often draw
towards the graves, and rqy eyes turn toward* the vaub, where all rhe
contentions of this world cease, and where the weary are at rest. I pnife,
with Solomon, the dead who are already dead, more than the living w.ia
are yet alive. 0
I will call reason and religion to my aid.—Prayers and tear? cannot re
store iny child—and to God who made us we mult fuhmit.—Pe lups, he
was inarched in mercy from fome impending woe. —ln life he might ha/e
.seen mllerable, —fn dcith he inuft be happy. —I will not think him dni,
—I will not ponfidcr him confined in the vault, or mouldering in the da,l,
—but rifen,—c'ad with true glory and immortality; gone to regions of
eternal day, where he will never know the loss of parents, or of a child ;
—gone above the reach of sorrow, vice, or pain. That little hand, waicli
was so bjfy to plcufe here, now holds a cherub’s harp.—That voide, which
was mufick to :ny ears, warbles sweet symphonies to our Utiivqrfa! Fa
ther, Lord, and King.—Those feet, which ran to welcome me from t )H,
and my arms received, while f held him up, and for the blefling tils.l to
thank my God, now tra verfs the Harry pavement of the Heavens.— The
society of weak, impure, unhappy mortals, is exchanged for that of pow
erful, pure, blcftsd fpiritsand his fair brow is incircled with a never
fading crown. „
Shall 1 then grieve, that he, who is become an Angel, grew not to bp
a man? Shall l drag him from the (kies ? Willi him in the vale of sorrow ?
t would not, my dear boy, interrupt thy blifs.—lt is not for thee, but
for myfelf, I weep. —I fpetk as if he was present. lod who can tell,
bufcjhat bc-fces and Hears me?—’Are there not minillriag Spirits ?’ —Aufi
our great Milton fays,
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the e^yth,
Tfnfcen, both when we sleep, and when we wake. • ■■■
Perhaps, even now, he hovers over me with rosy wings,—diCLtes tom/
heart, and guides the hand that writes. V
The con uderation of the forrow* of this life, and the glories of the next,
is our heft support.—Dark are the ways of Providence, while wc are
wrapped up in mortality but, convinced there is a God, we mall hope
and believe, that all is right.
May the remainder of my days be spent in a faithful discharge of the
duty I owe to the supreme Disposer of all events ! 1 am but as a pilgrinh
here, have trod many rough paths, and drank many bitter cups.—As &y
days (Horten, may the Sun of Righteousness brighten over me, fciU I ar
rive at the New Jerusalem, where tears are wipsd away from every eye,
and sorrow is no more!—May I defeend into the grave, from whence I
have lately had so many * hair-breadth efcapes,’ in peace ! May 1 meet
my Angel boy at the gate of death ; and may his hand condud me to the
palace of eternity ! Thcfe are the fervent prayers of
Your alHiCled Friend, J. T. .
Admirable Infanct of the Sagacity of a DOG, and afftdlionfor bit Master.
From the Historical Eflays on Paris.
IN the reign of Charles V. King of France, a Gentleman, by the name
of Aubri de'Montdidier, palling alone in the foreftof Bondi, was as
sassinated and buried at the root of a tree. His ib>g remained several days
on his grave, not quit it, till pre/Ted by hunger. He came to
Paris, to the house of an intimate friend of the unfortunate Aubri, and,
by his mournful howlings, seemed to inform him of the loss they had fyf
tained. After having eaten, he renews his cries, goes to the doer, turns
his head to fee if any one follows him, turns to the friend of hu Mailer,
and pulls him by the coat, as it were to desire him to come along with
him. The Angularity of all the dog’s motions, his coming *ithoiu )}is
Matter whom he never quitted j the Matter who haJ f.<Jdeuly disappeared,
and perhaps that distribution of justice and events which feldo n permit
crimes to remain long concealed ; all these particulars were inducements
for following the dog. As soon as the dog came to tne foot of the tree,
he redoubled his howlings, scratched uo the earth, as a Gen for feeki.g
in shat place. They digged down into it, and there found the body o the
unhappy Aubri. Some time after, the dog fees, by chance, the aifaflin.