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POETRY.
MAY,
I feel a newer life in every gale!
Thor winds that fan the flowers,
And with their welcome breathings fill tlic
sail,
Tell of serener hours—
Of hours that glide unfelt away,
Beneath the sky of May.
The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls
Prom his blue throne of air,
And where his whispering voice in music
falls,
Beauty is budding there;
The bright ones of the valley break
Their slumbers, and awake.
The waving verdure rolls along the plain,
And the wide forest weaves,
To welcome back its playful mates again,
A canopy of leaves;
And, from its darkening shadow, floats
A gush of trembling notes.
Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of
May;
With the light dallying of the west-wind
play;
And the full-brimming floods,
As gladly to their goal they run,
Hail the'returning sun.—Pekcival.
CHEROKEE HYMNS.
J0zyc?a.
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MATTHEW, CHAP. VIII. 1—13
PS, DJ8A-4T VIII.
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ARCHBISHOP SHARPE AND THE
ROBBER.
It was a custom with Archbishop
Sharpe in his journeys, generally to
have a saddle horse attending his car
riage, that incase of feeling fatigued
with sitting, he might take the refresh
ment of a ride. In his advanced age,
and a few years before his death as
he was going in this manner to his epis
copal residence, and was got a mile
or two in advance of his carriage, a
decently dressed good looking young
man on horseback came up to him,
and with a trembling hand and fanlter-
ing tone of voice, presented a pistol
to his Grace’s breast, demanding bis
money. The archbishop, with great
composure turned round, and looking
steadfastly at him, desired that he
would remove that dangerous weapon
and tell him fairly his condition. “Sir,
Sir,” cried the youth with great agita
tion, “no words, ’tis not a time for
words now, your money instantly.”—
“Hear me young man.” said the vene-
ble prelate, “come on with me. I,
you see, am a very old man, and my
life is of little consequence; yours
seems far otherwise. I am Sharpe,
the Archbishop of \ ork; my carriage
and servants are behind, but conceal
your perturbations and tell me who
you are and what money you want,
and on the word of my character, I
will not injure you, but prove a friend.
“Here, take this, (giving him a purse
of money) and now tell me how much
you want, to make you independent of
so dangerous and destructive a course
as you are now engaged in.” “Oh,
sir,” replied the man, “I detest the
business as much as you do; I am—
but—but—at home there are creditors
who will not wait; fifty pounds, my
lord, w ould indeed do what no thought
or tongue besides my own can feel or
express:” “Well, sir, I take it at
your word; and upon my honor if you
will compose yourself for a day or two,
and then call on me at , what I
have now given 3 ou shall be made up
that sum; trust me I will not deceive
you.”
The highwayman looked at him,
was silent, and went off; and the time
appointed, actually waited on the
Archbishop, received the money, and
assured his lordship that he hoped his
words had left impressions which no
inducement could ever efface. Noth
ing more transpired of him for a year
and a half; when one morning a per
son knocked at his Grace’s gate, and
with a peculiar earnestness of voice
and countenance, desired to see him.
The Archbishop ordered the stran
ger to be introduced. He had scarce
ly entered the room, when his coun
tenance changed, his knees tottered,
and he sunk almost breathless on the
floor. On recovering, he requested
an audience in private: this being gran
ted, he said, “My lord, you cannot
have forgotton the circumstance of
relieving a highwayman. God and
gratitude will never suffer it to be 0-
bliterated from my mind. In me, my
Lord, you now behold that once most
wretched of mankind: but now by your
inexpressible humanity, rendered c-
qual, perhaps superor, to millions.—
Oh, my lord, ’tis you, that have saved
me, body' and soul; ’tis you that have
saved a much loved wife, and a little
brood of children, whom I loved dear
er than my own life. “Here, my
lord, is the fifty pounds; but never
shall I find language to express what I
feel; God is your witness, your deed
itself is your glory; and may heaven
be your present and everlasting re
ward.” The archbishop was refus
ing the money: when the gentleman
added, ‘,My lord, I was the younger
son of a wealthy man; your Grace
knew him. I am sure, my name is ;
my marriage alienated the affections
of my father, who left me to sorrow'
and penury.
“My distresses—but your grace al
ready knows to what extent they drove
me. A month since my brother di
ed a bachelor, and intestate; his for
tune has become mine; and I, spared
and preserved by your goodness from
an ignominious death,, and now- the
most grateful, and the happiest of hu
man beings.”—rercy Anecdotes.
TURKISH WOMEN.
A lady cannot, even in the pres
ence of her husband or another female
appear unveiled before a physician,
or have her pulse felt, except thro’
a muslin sleeve, though, in case of
great danger, the law relaxes its se
verity, and allows a lady to unveil, to
show her eyes, her tongue, or any part
whatever of her body. Physic is gen
erally practiced by w'omen, who have
little science, but great experience.
Throughout the empire there are no
accoucheurs', women only officiate, w ho
are styled Eben Cadium. The pres
ence of a man at an accouchment
would disgrace a family forever.—
From these and other circumstances
Turkish ladies generally preserve
their chastity inviolable, notwithstand
ing w r hat M. Palaiogus and other Eu
ropeans have asserted to the contrary.
So refined are their notions of delica
cy, that ladies who pique themselves
upon purity of their manners will not
* venture to walk unveiled to their ow n
gardens at. all hours, unless it be as
certained that no one can intrude up
on them. When a lady goes to the
hath, she is also accompanied by other
ladies of the family, and followed by
female slaves aqd eunuchs; and until
far in life, does not go to the mosque,
the law dispensing with her attendance
upon public worship. In fact, women
of rank do not often appear in public,
because it is unfashionable. None
but poor women, therefore, arc
generally to be met with in the
streets, and are always veiled, and
careful to preserve the utmost decen
cy of appearance, never speaking to
any one.
To stare at a w r oman in public, is
considered a mark of vulgarity, and
to unsult her with an indecent word
would subject a man to be seized by
the police, and have his brains knock
ed out in case of resistance. No
Turkish woman keeps a shop or ware
house, or sells any thing about the
streets; though certain old women
who serve the ladies of the harems
with trinkets, &c. may be regarded
as exceptions. Every family lives a-
part. The husband, supposed by ma
ny to be an absolute tyrant, cannot e-
ven enter his own harem, when a
strange lady happens to he on a visit
to his wife, without giving the guest
time to veil, and prepare to receive
him. The sultan himself w : ould not
dare to infringe upon this law'. Neither
men nor women habitually eat togeth
er. The chief amusement of the la
dies consists in visiting the public
baths, or their near relations; and as
their visits are not frequent, they u-
sually stay fifteen or twenty days,'and
take all their young children and a
few slaves with them.—As every fa
mily is anxious to have these visits
returned, the greater part of the year
is often spent in this pleasant w r ay, a-
mong those individuals whom they
most love. Foreign ladies find it dif
ficult to gain admittance into the ha
rems, unless they go disguised as mil-
Ieners. No one ever entered the se
raglio.
Though Mahomed himself w r as a
frequent companion of the Jews and
Pagans, and in the Koran permits mar
riage with Christians and Jews, pre
judice is too powerful for the law,
and fosters an aversion for infidels; so
that when, by chance, a Turk con
tracts friendship with a foreigner, he
is careful to conceal it from his coun
trymen. The principal happiness of
the Turkish women consists in super
intending their domestic economy, in
labour, or in educating their children.
Those of every rank spend a portion
of the day in spinning, sewing, or em
broidery; they all nurse their owm
children, even the sultanas; and would
account it the greatest affliction to he
obliged to transfer the performance of
this duty to another When sickness
compels them k to submit to this, the
nurse never quits the house, and her
situation is the happiest that can be
imagined. She is generally some
young slave, who receives her free
dom the very day she undertakes the
office, and is called “the mother of
milk.” Considered thenceforth as one
of the family, she is treated with the
greatest attention. Children are com
monly weaned about the age of twelve
or fourteen months. The child’s cra
dle is generally very beautifully con
structed of w'alnut or hazlc w'ood and
ornamented with mother of pearl.—
The cradles of the princes of the
blood are adorned with gold and jew-
e ]s. .
BORROWING NEWSPAPERS.
In London it is the practice of many
persons to hire the reading of newspa
pers; & there are carriers who make it
their business to purchase the morn-
ning papers, and travel from the
house of one customer to that of ano
ther, where he receives a penny each
for allowing him to glance over such
of his papers as the customer may
wish. And in this way these carriers
obtain good livings. The practice is
excusable in England, where a single
daily newspaper costs between forty
and fifty dollars. But it would be ri
diculed here; and still, it would be
much more honorable than a very gen
eral practice which obtains in this
country—we mean that of borrowing
newspapers. There is nothing which
injures the pecuniary interest of pub
lishers, or so much annoys their cus
tomers, as this beggarly practice.—
Newspapers eoine so cheap in this
country, that they are within the
means ol every industrious family in
the community. And yet the borrow
ers, when compared with the subscri
bers, will stand as three to one.—
1 his subject is brought to our mind al
most daily by the complaints of our
subscribers; and has now been revived
by an occurrence last evening. Step
ping into the store of one of our sub
scribers to purchase an article, one of
his neighbors came in and asked for
his paper. “Why,’ replied the sub
scriber, ‘your boy came in for it and
took it before I had opened it.’ ‘But,’
rejoined the borrower, ‘Mr. sent
lor it before I was half through with
it.’ ‘Well,’ said the subscriber, 'you
can have it if you will go for it; and if
you do not find it at Mr. ’s proba
bly Mr. has got it by this time.’—
The borrower went in pursuit of the
paper. ‘Pray,’ we inquired, ‘how
many of your neighbours thus borrow
your paper?’ ,Four, pretty regular
ly,’was the reply. ‘But you do in
justice to yourself and the publisher.’
‘True—1 am sensible of that; hut we
must be neighborly—you know, and it
would look very mean to refuse to
lend so small a thing as a newspaper.
Now we beg leave to differ with
our customers in this respect.—Of
course there are exceptions to gene
ral rules—but newspapers should nev
er be lent—W’ho (asks the editor of
the boston Courier, in a sensible arti
cle upon this subject,) who would not
laugh at the idea of one half the com
munity borrowing coats, hats and shoes
from the other, to make a decent ap
pearance on particular occasions, and
the same time admit that no tailor,
hatter or shoemaker could ever hope
to thrive among such people? yet it is
the same injury to the interest of the
p»inter, to make one newspaper serve
half a dozen readers, as it would be
to the tailor, to make a fine dress coat
serve the purposes of so many dandies.
‘We must contrive to do without the
expenses of a newspaper, (a mere tri
fle in amount) is one of the poorest
and most, pitiful resolutions that can be
imagined; but is ten times worse when
backed by such a reservation as this—
for if 1 want to read one I can borrow
it.’ What would such people say, if
the community generally were to come
to the determination to do without
the articles which they vend or man
ufacture, or without their services in
any way? We like to see a more lib
cral spirit. All trades, occupations
and professions are mutually depend
ant on one another; and vve should en
courage every one who contributes his
means to advance the welfare of our
selves or the community.—N. Y. C.
Mv.
Indian Cam Insects.—Soaking seed
corn in a solution of Glauber’s salts
has been recommended as a preserva
tive against insects and birds, and like
wise the mixture is thought to have a
stimulating and fertilizing effect,
which fowards the growth of the young
plants. The proper strength of the
solution has no.t, as far as we can learn,
been ascertained by experiment.
The farmers of Renssalaer county,
N. Y. say that ashes ought always to
be applied to the top of corn hills im
mediately after planting, if it follow
sward land, prevent grub larvae from
destroying the crop. The same ope
ration will have a similar effect if ap
plied to the top of potatoe hills. But
neither unleached ashes, nor lime in
its caustic state should he so placed
as to come in contact either with
the seed corn or the young plants.—
A strong solution of copperas in water
will also preserve seed corn from in
sects and birds. The ashes or quick
lime, however, are probably more
useful as manures.
The Seven Churches of Jlsia.—Of
tlie Seven Churches of the Apoca
lypse, founded in Asia by the apostles,
hardly a vestige remains. Smyrna,
Ephesus, Pergamos, Sardis, Thyatira,
Laodicea, and Philadelphia, (see Rev
elation, chap, ii and iii.) with all their
power and magnificence, have fallen
into utter decay; except that the first
mentioned city remains a port of com
mercial coiBscqucnce. But Ephesus
is a mere heap of ruir.s; Pergamos has
a population of 1,600 Greeks, among
13,000 Turks; Sardis, once the splen
did capital of Lydia, is a few mud
huts; Thyatira (now Ak-hissar) has
only one miserable Greek church;
Laodicea (now Eski-hissar) is a Turk
ish village, near masses and scattered
fragments of ancient architecture and
sculpture; and Philadelphia (now Al
lah Slier) has been shaken into dust
by wars and earthquakes.
M. Alexandre de La Borde, son of
the banker of that name, who posses
sed an immense fortune and great re
pute, before the revolution, is a Mem
ber of the French chamber of Depu
ties. Roused, lately, by some re
marks of another Member, against e-
lection-meetings & petitions, he broke
into the following strain, referring to
his own case:
“What means this constant talking
of revolution, and reviving rccollec- fe.;
tions? Who thinks of renewing past K
excesses which every one deplores?— j
But, among those to w hom this inten- J
tion is attributed, are there no suffer- j
ers from that same revolution? I ask, H
are there many royalists in this Cham- a
her or out of this Chamber, who have
lost their father, and half their fami- p
ly on the scaffold, for the cause of the P
Bourbons; who have lost an income of I
l,200,000f. by the revolution—who I
have fought five campaigns, and re- j
ceived ten wounds for the Royalist ■.
cause, and who, as the reward of all t
their sacrifices, have asked nothing of j
the Bourbons at their return, in order
to preserve their independence, & to I ;
be able to speak to you at this tribune I*
as I do, [bravo, bravo, on the left; pro- ?j
found silence on the right?] Let us |
grant to the Revolution the praises
which its fortunate results merit, at
the same time deploring the evils it
has caused, and then we shall all a- I
gree as to this painful question. Do [1
we not know that we owe to the Re
volution the state of prosperity, riches,
and glory which France has attained,
and even the institutions which now
govern us, and wdiicli are its conse
quences? Who would w'ish to re
store France to wdiat it was forty
years ago? Who is the Royalist W'ho :
would wish to descend from Austcr-
litz to Rosbach, and from the reli- [1
gious tolerance granted by the Char- W
ter to St. Barthelemi? Who w'ould '
descend from our present Code to the J!
Feudal Law, and her torture; evert f
from the late Ministry to Madame
Dubarry, the Abbe Teray [prolonged
movement in the Assembly?”]
Stings of PI asps or Bees.—Sw'eet
oil applied immediately cures the
sting of w'asps or bees;—and if the
sting is left in the w'ound, it should, if
possible, be extracted with hair pin
cers. Or chalk may be rubbed on the
place, or spirits of hartshorn, or so
lution of any alkali, as pot-ash, pearl-
ash, or salt of tartar, or soda. But
the simplest remedy, and sonic w'ho
have tried it have assured us that it
is effectual, is to rub the part affect
ed with a raw r onion.—JV*. E. Farmer.
Jin improved method of preparing
corn for planting.—Soak the corn in
warm water, for thirty-six hours—
then, for half a bushel of corn, boil
three pails full of water with a half
pint of tar, taking care to stir the wa
ter until the tar is thoroughly mixed
with it. Cool the w'ater until you
can hold your hand in it without in
convenience; then put the corn into
the liquor—keep it in about five mi
nutes, stirring it constantly—then put
the corn into a basket, and put in as
much plaster as wrll adhere to the
kernels. Let it remain in the basket
twenty-four- hours, when it will be
ready for planting. Corn prepared in
this w r ay will come up several days-
sooner, than that planted in the com
mon way. This has been found by
experience to be a complete preven-- -
tive against the ravages of crow's, w'ire
worms, and all other insects.
■ II. Statesman.
LAKE SUPERIOR.
According to late surveys of the
boundary between the United States
and Canada, about one thousand riv
ers empty themselves into this enor
mous inland sea. It is estimated that
an elevation of nine feet in the U'aters
of the lake, would cause them to flow
over into the sources of the Mississip
pi, instead of running in their present
direction. An earthquake, cuch as
was experienced in Chili in 1822,
might be attended with tremendous
consequences ta that region of coun
try.