Newspaper Page Text
P02STUY.
Fromth" Lonflon Kcepsakp for 1929,
HEBREW MELODY.
In Judah’s halls the harp is hushed,
Her voice is but the voice of pain;
Th" heathen heel her helm has crushed,
H *r spirit wears the heathen chain.
From the dark prison-house she cried,
“ How long, O Lord! thy sword has
slept!
O quell the oppressor in his pride!”—
Still Pharoah ruled, and Israel wept.
The morning breezes freshly blow,
The waves in golden sunlight quiver;
Tlv Hebrew’s daughter wanders slow
B’side the mighty Idol River.
A babe within her bosom lav,—
A n 1 must she plunge him in the deep?
She raised her eyes to Heaven to pray;
She turn’d them down to earth to weep.
She knelt beside the rushing tide,
’Mid rushes dank, and (low’rets wild;
Beneath the plane-tree’s shadow wide,
The weeping mother placed her child.
Peace be around thee—though thy bed
“ A mother’s breast no in or" may be;
M Y"t he that idueld’s the lily’s head,
“ Deserted babe, will watch o’er thee p’
She’s gone Ithat mourning mother! gone—
List to the sound of dancing feet,
And lightly bounding, one by one,
A lovelv train the timbrel beat.
Tr, she of Egypt—Pharaoh’s daughter,
That with her maidens comes to lave
H’ r form of beauty in the water,
And light with beauty’s glance the wave.
Oh! woman’s heart is like the rose,
That glows beneath the tropic’s flame,
That blooms as sweet ’mid northern snows,
Forever lovely—and the same.
Whate’er her rank—what e’er herlqj,
Where’er her gentle influence ranges,
The art to bless is ne’er forgot,
The will to comfort never changes.
Th n monarch’s daughter saw and wept—
(How lovely falls compassion’s tear!)
The babe that there in quiet slept,
• Blest in unconsciousness of fear.
•Twits her’s t > pity and to aid
The infant Chief, the infant sage;
Un lying fame the deed repaid,
Recorded upon heaven’s own page,
Years pass awav—the land is free!
Daughter of Zion! mourn no moi"!
Th" Oppressor’s hand is weak on thee,
Captivity’s dark reign is o’er.
Th v chains are burst—thy bonds are riven—
O •! like a rive • strong and wide:
% Captain is to Judah given—
The babe that slept by Nile’s broad tide.
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M fl S V K LLAi\ KOI'8.
From the Vermont Watchman.
FANNY ELLSWORTH, OR THE
EVILS OF WAR.
Who that has once seen the beauti
ful Island of South-Hero* in Lake
Champlain, can forget Rs charming
scenery ? Returning in 1830 from an
excursion in the western part of New-
\ ork, I passed through this island.—
The road upon which vve travelled was
lined on each side with rows of trees,
apparently standing in their native
slate, hut spared by the woodman for
the purpose of shade, tho of what spe
cies I could not determine, but much
resembling the low elm, so copious up
on the interval lands in Vermont.—
'Ihe adjacent lielus weie covered w ith
the lincst orchards I had ever beheld:
while liie farm houses, scattered at
convenient distances, seemed to pos
sess much ol the taste and elegance of
the city mansion. It was mid after
noon when we arrived at a village up
on the eastern shore, commanding a
wide view of those waters immortal
ized by the victory of iVi’Donough.—
We alighted at a handsome inn, arid it
being too late requested accommoda
tions lor the night. We soon discov
ered Iroin the gaiety of a numerous
assembly who w ere collecting, that a
wedding was celebrating in the house,
and so much was ray attention occu
pied in viewing the splendid dresses
of those who were passing, together
with inusick in an adjoining apartment
that 1 did not at lirst observe a young
temale, in black, who was sitting near
a window commanding a view of the
lake, which, as the sun was then set
ting, reflected his rays and displayed
a scene both lovely and sublime.—
When first I beheld her she was lean
ing her head upon her hand, and ap
peared as if intently gazing upon sCme
object distant upon the bosom of the
water; and indeed, so much did she
appear engrossed by the sight, that I
involuntarily arose and walked to the
window in order to share with her the
singular vision. But as I approached,
she sighed deeply, and raising her
eyes full upon my face, there was an
expression that seemed to speak more
than volumes could tell. Her soul
W'as evidently with sorrow, but alas!
it was a sorrow that no sympathy could
reach—hidden malady thatpreyed
upon the heart's be6t and noblest leel-
ings.” So mueh were my feelings
moved and interested by that appa
rently unconscious look, that I felt
resolved, if possible, to find out the
source of her misfortunes. At length,
I said, “pardon me madam for ap
pearing intrusive, but unless I am
greatly deceived, you are misfortune's
child, and as it is ever my privilege to
miugle with the afflicted the tear of
sympathy. I beg you will tell me by
what means you have become, as your
garb intimates, a mourner.” She a-
0 «u.i kiilbiU hi,i eyes, «.ucn looking in
lenuy iqiut a w uw.il sue imu in nci
llauu, sncUuiSi. uno leuis auu ieu me
room, lsaw tier no more—out iron,
a young iaij picsciu t ieuiueu Uie loi-
lovwug eiLuiusiauocs:
‘•xamv iiiCcsv>oKrn,” said she,
' is liie *ily uaughter ol a wcaiw.y
merchant oi the town ol L ,
hoiuerinjupon Uie lane on uie New
k oi h sjuc Si e possesseu ii om clmu-
hooii /^ry i dvanuge v\lnoli weailii
ami iudiii oe coulU bestow.—olie
linisheu\icr education at aiemaie se
minary in Vie city ol i\evv- k oik, and
the mipioYmenl sue mauc, both m
her sluuiesVnu maimers, gave loner
parents llic uiosl pleasing Suiisiaclion.
She had twl biothers, one oi which
went early lpiiiuu Ins lailiei s coun
ter, .mu w aslbvniciiiiy to be his pi op
in declining ke, wlme me younger
was desuneu b a prolession. lie had
already reeeifcd ins uiplouia iiom liie
Lniveisay, aid nau gone abroad io
loon about upui the woiid a little he-
lore lie ueeidei
One year
upon a prolession.
had passed since the
completion oi ier studies, aim ^ainay
was eiijo) nig bi neath ner dear parent
al rooi, ail mu happiness an innocent
heart and aweji ouiuvaieu mind could
besloiv. She was the idol oi tier pa
rents, and ii w as her joy to amuse
them hi whatever way her active im
agination could invent; sometimes she
sang, mid sometimes painted huid-
scaptjs, 0>te. as sue was ever an en-
thusilstic admirer of nature; and tho
not plolessediy pious, yet the view oi
any uiug vvoiideiiul and subnme al
ways urought with it the idea ot Him
a ho iHTiied it; and though she couiu
not comprehend his w isuoiu aim great
ness, yet siie v\as always reverent to
ali tilings of a divine nature.
“In the early pan ot the summer
of 1814, she was walking upou me
shore at sunset, to inhale a puie even
ing bieeze and list to the dateriowl as
it whispered a “good evening” sung,
whensuduenly a boat turning a point,
glided directly totiie spot w here she
stood. Being much surprized at Lie
suddenness of its appearance, she sloou
motionless w hilc a young oiiicer in liie
naval uniform, springing from the boat
stood before her. ‘uo not he alarm
ed my sweet girl,' said he, “it is not
my intention to inti ude upon a stran
ger, but as 1 had a glimpse oi your
form from a distance, 1 was not cer
tain hut my good stars had led me in
to the vicinity of the ‘‘Lady of liie
Lake;” but us lucre is not much of
the romantic in my imagination, i have
finally taken you to he an admirer of
rural nature, lor which your walk was
evidently intended, and as my motive
was a corresponding one, i beg you
will permit me the pleasure of sharing
your walk a short distance. I urn in
this vicinity a stranger, having very
lately entered on board the fleet upon
this lake, and it was witli the commo
dore’s permission that 1 took this little
aquatic excursion around the snores to
survey the variety of the beautiful
scenery. There seems to he much
majesty, blended with simplicity,
which to the lover of nature and ol'
nature’s God, imparts a double
charm.’ 1
‘‘Such vvas the language by which
Fanny was accosted by a hand
some and polite youn 6 officer. They
continued their walk a short distance
upon the shore, when twilight begin
ning to mantle the waters he request
ed permission to see her safely to her
own door, and on parting politely soli
cited leave to call upon the family.
“It cannot he supposed that an ad
venture so entirely new to her should
be revolved with indifference. Ah
no—there was : n ease, an affability, a
d licacy in the deporlment of the stran
ger that could not f ail to leave a deep
impression upon the vivid imagination
of Fanny. She related the adventure
to her parents, apparently with much
interest, and also the permission she
had given him to call again. Three
weeks had passed away during which
time Fanny had not forgotten the “un
known stranger,” and though she had
refrained walking in that direction,
yet not an,evening had passed but she
raisg^j»er window sash to glance upon
the waters where his boat had glided
so fleetly. At length, one afternoon
as she was busily engaged at her pain
ting table, endeavouring to sketch a
boat as it approached a craggy shore,
with an officer in the attitude of spring
ing from it, a rap ivas heard at the
street door. Mrs. Ellsworth arose
and opened the door, when an officer
in full uniform entered the room. The
blush upon Fanny’s cheeks left her
ai no loss to conjectute who the stran
ger was. Fanny received him joy”
...liy, and lust inquired by what name
sue should introduce him to her fami
ly. “Lieutenant B , madam,”
was the reply. Mr. Ellsworth enter
ed soon after, and it vvas discovered
that Lieutenant B was the son
of a clergyman in Connecticut. His
education was liberal, and his princi
ples evidently correct and pu e. The
afternoon glided quietly away, and he
arose to take leave, but not till he was
warmly urged by Mr. and Mrs. Ells
worth to call again. His visits were
now frequent* and at last he made an a-
vow r al of his affection for Fanny, which
on her part vvas received with unas
suming modesty. He vvas invited to
spend a w eek in the family. His com
pliance vvas a gratification to them ail,
for his kind, unassuming manners had
gained much upon the affections, of the
family, and it vvas her brother’s de
light to challenge to a game of che
quers or piquet. But as evening ap
proached he usually invited Fanny to
a walk upon that lovely shore where
they had lirst met, and discovered that
their souls “harmonized to a sound.”
“But at length the fatal 11th of
September approached. He took
leave of this happy family, where he
had passed the brightest hours of his
life,, but with a hope shortly to meet
again. Fanny attended him to the
beach where, after mutual insurances
of unalterable affection, they parted,
and as she saw his boat glide from the
shore almost with the fleetness of
lightning, the tear rushed to her eye—
a secret something whispered to her
ear, “you part to meet no more.”—
Alas! poor Fanny, too true vvas that
secret whisper. The British fleet,
ommanded by commodore Uovvnie,
entered the lake, & Anally challenged
the American fleet by a lust fire; it
was returned. The contest was ob
stinate and severe. In the midst of
the battle, Lieutenant B re
ceived a shot in his right side; it pen
etrated the lungs—death was inevita
ble. lie took from his pocket a goui
watch, and calling to an intimate
brother officer—“1 am dying,’ said
he. “Take this watch—coiwey it to
Fanny Ellsworth, tell her i im
pressed upon it a kiss with iny dying
lips, and wish her to keep it as a
pledge of my remembrance even in
death.” He shortly after expired.—
The sound of the cannon liail lirst u-
roused Fanny from her to leae vvneie
she was preparing lor the solemn uu-
ties of the day. 8he rail to the win
dow and discovered the two lieius m
hostile array. Attended by ner luuiei
and brother, she climbeu a lony em
inence by the shore, where thtj couiu
discover the movements ol each ves
sel, as it look its stand in the action.
The most painful sensations pervailed
.the bosom of Fanny, in vain sue
sought that composure which her kiud
father so aifectiuiiately urged upon
her. Every shot imparled a new pang,
as if the builel itself hud entereu her
bosom.
At length after a few hours, ail was
still. They saw the American flag
waving triumphantly upon the ship ol
M'Donough, while the British liags
were all invisible. Again hope dawn
ed upon Fanny’s bosorni ami she telt
lor a while to reciprocate the shouts
of joy that echoed from hundreds up-
en the neighboring dills. Most im
patiently did they await an approach
ing messenger, lie arrived—an offi
cer was with him. He inquired for
Fanny Ellsu'Orth—she sprang to
his side-“Lieutenant B is dead—
he committed to my care this witch
for you, saying lie had with his dying
breath impressed upon it a kiss, and
presents it to you as a token of his fi
delity, even in death.” Fanny grasp
ed the watch and fell senseless into
the arms of her father. Convulsion
succeeded convulsion, and it vvas not
till the third day that she manifested
returning reason. Then there vvas a
wildness in her eye that indicated “all
is lost.” And so it vvas—reason had
been dethroned, and in its stead des
pair now reigns. She appears indif
ferent to surrounding objects, and on
ly starts when the name of Lieuten
ant B or of commodore M’Do-
nough are uttered. Her youngest
brother who resided in Vermont has
recently died of a fever; but she pays
no attention to the narrat ive, nor does
she appear to heed the tears of her
almost broken hearted parents. When
at her father’s house she daily resorts
to the lake shore, where with the
watch in her hand she sits hour after
hour, as if gazing upon an approach
ing boat. She is now residing for a
few weeks upon this island with a cous
in, to whom she vvas formerly much
attached. But her bosom .is n(w dead
to every tie of friendship or affection,
and her only dream appears to be the
gliding boat or the warring fleet.”
MARGARET;
From the Berks hire American.
“THESE MEN ARE FULL OF
NEW WINE.”
In discoursing on this subject, we
shall take the liberty of substituting
the words ardent spirits, in the place
of ‘new wine’—and ardent spirits we
shall consider as including all those
strong waters which have a tendency
to banish reason, destroy health, rub
property, and make a swill-tub of hu
man flesh.
Do you see that man with his gait
unsteady, his hand trembling, his faco*
glowing like a sheet of flame, his
breath hot as a furnace, his tongue bog
gling at small words, & as it were cov
ered with mitten, his head full of con
fusion and his eyes full of rheum, his
strength impaired and his thirst per
petual—that man is full of ardent spii>
its.
Do you see that man of law, often
at the tavern and seldom at his office,
who prefers brandy to black stone,
and punch to pleading, whose practice
is principally at the bar ‘of mine host,*
and whose, causes prove ruinous to his
own effects and those of his clients—
that man is full of ardent spirits.
Do you see that man of physic, his
saddlebags filled with jugs instead of
drugs, his horse standing all night at
the tavern and feeding on post-meats
instead of oats, who deals out opium
for cathartic, and jalap for an a'no-
dyne, whose very appearance is a per
petual emetic, and whose breath is*
stronger than his medicines—that mart
is full of ardent spirits.
Do you see that man of divinity,
whose face blushes with brandy end
not for the sins of the people, whose
‘conversation in the world’ breathes
of rum more than of heaven, whose
ways, though he directs others in the
straight path, are more devious than a
Virginia fence, who, though he cau
tions others not to fall, often stumbles-
himself,—that man, although a divine,
gives strong suspicions of being full of
ardent spirits.
Do you see that farmer, with his
fences prostrate, his boards hanging
loose on his buildings, his winder g
stuffed with old hats and cast ot?
breeches his jug going six times a
week to the store, his crops consume
ed before they are raised, his cattle
sold under the hammer, his children
in rags and his wife in tears—that
man is full of ardent spirits.
Do you see that mechanic, who is
any where but in his shop, who sup
plies his customers with promises in
stead of work, whose tools are out of
order and whose stock has run down
his throat, whose eyes are red with
drink and not working o’nights, who
prefers a scat at a tavern to a bench
in his shop, who mars his customers’
work instead of making it—that man’s
principal desire is to be full of ardent
spirits.
Do you see that laborer, looLI« ft for
work, and praying devoutly that he
may not find it; his coat hanging in his
strings, and his breeches unmcntionably
ragged, who would sooner labour for
whiskey at the rate of fourpence a day,
than work for cash at good wages,
who carries home a bottle of blue ruin
for the ruin of his family, w hp beats
his wife and starves his children—
that worthless being is full of ardent
spirits.
Finally, do’ you see that pot-valiant
fellow, who being constantly hot with
liquor takes fire on the slqjhtest oc
casion, who is always in a brawl ancf
ready to draw his fist at a . moment's
warning, who has generally on hand a
case or two of assault and battery,
with a black eye and bloody nose as
principal witnesses—that fellow gives
unquestionable evidence, that lie is „
ftdl of ardent spirits.
Fake Noses.—A French surgeon,
of the name of Delpech, lately read to
the Academie des sciences a paper
on what he calls “animal grafting.”
In the course of ten years practice he
has successfully produced thirteen:
new noses, which, although destitute
of cartilages, are perfectly firm gnd
solid. M. Delpech prefers the In
dian process, in which the necessary
skin is taken from the forehead, to the
Italian, in which it is taken from the
arm; and conducts the operation so
skilfully that only a few slight traces
remain on the forehead instead of the
wrinkled and disagreeable scar which
was formerly produced.
