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POETRY.
MOTHER WHAT IS DEATH *
“Mother, how still the baby lies—
1 cannot hear its breath:
'I cannot see his laughing' cve^—
They tell me this is death.
My little work I thought to bring,
Anil set down bt r his bed,
Anil pleasantly I tried to sing?
They hushed me—he is dead.
They say that he again will rise,
More beautiful than now;
That God will bless him in the skies,
O mother, tell me how?”
“ Daughter, do you remember dear,
The cold dark thing you brought,
And laid upon the casement here.
A wither’d worm, you thought?
1 told vou that Almighty power
Could break the withered shell,
And show you in a future hour
Something would please you well.
Look at the chrysalis, my lore,
An empty shell it lies?
Now raise your wandering glance above.
To where yon insect flies!”
M Oh; yes, mamma! how very gay
Its wrings of starry gold—
And see! it lightly flies away
Beyond my gentle hold!
Oh, mother, now I know full well—*
If God that worm can change,
And draw it from his broken cell,
On golden wings to range, ,
How beautiful will brother be,
When God shall give him wings.
Above this dying world to flee,
And live with' heavenly things.”
THE EXILE AT REST.
BY THE IlEV. JOHN PIERPONT.
His falchion flashed along the Nile;
His hosts he ied through Alpine snows;
O’er Moscow’s towers, that blazed the
while,
His eagle flag unrolled—and froze.
Here sleeps be now, alone!—notone
Of all the kings whose crowns lie gave,
Bends o’er his dust;—nor wife nor son
Has ever seen or sought his grave.
Behind lus sea-girt rock, the star
That led him on from crown to c,rown>
Has sunk;—and nations from afar
Gazed as it faded and went down.
High in his couch—the ocean flood
Far, far below, by storms is curled;
As round him heaved, while high he stood,
A stormy ami unstable world.
Alone he sleeps! the mountain cloud,
That night hangs round him, and the
breath
Of morning scatters, is the shroud
That wraps the conqueror’s clay in death.
Pause here!—the far off world at last
.Breathes free;—the hand that shook its
thrones.
And to the earth its mitres cast,
Lies powerless now beneath these stones.
Hark l comes there, from the pyramids,
And from Siberian wastes of snow,
And Europe’s hills; a voice that bids
The world he awed to mourn him? No:
The only, the perpetual dirge
That’s heard here, is the sea-birds cry—
The mournful murmur of the surge—
The cloud’s deep voice—the wind’s low
sigh.
From the Spirit and Manners of the Age.
AN ANGEL VISIT.
On the evening of the thirty-first
of December, I laid been cherising
the humiliating and solemn reflec
tions which ate peculiarly suitable to
the close of the year, and endeavor
ing to bring niy mind to that view of
the past, best calculated to influence
the future. I had attempted to re
call the prominent incidents of the
twelve months which had elapsed;
and, in this endeavor, I was led fre
quently to regret how little my mem
ory could retain even of that most im
portant to be remembered. I could
not avoid, at such a period, looking
forward as well as backward, and an
ticipating that fearful tribunal at
which no occurrence shall be forgot
ten; whilst my imagination penetrated
into the distant destines which shall
be dependent on its decisions. At
my usual hour retired to rest, but the
traiir of meditation I had pursued
Was so appropriate, that imagination
continued it after sense had slumber
ed. “In thoughts from the visions of
the night, when deep sleep falleth up
on man,” I was mentally concerned in
the following scene of interest:—
I imagined myself still adding, link
after link, to the chain of reflection,
the progress of which the time for
repose had interrupted; and whilst
thus engaged, I was aware that there
remained but a few moments to com
plete the day. I heard the clock as
it tolled the knell of another year; and
as it rung slowly the appointed num
ber, each note waa followed a sting of:
conscience, bitterly reproaching me
tor any neglect of precious time.—
The last stroke was ringing in my
ears—painful as the groan announcing
the departure of a valuable friend—
when, notwithstanding the meditative,
posture in which I was sitting, I per
ceived that the dimness of the apart
ment became brighter; and on lifting
my eyes to discover the cause, I was
terrifled at perceiving that another
being was with me in my seclusion.
I saw one before me whose form in
deed was human; but the bright bur
ning glance of his eye, and the splen
dor which beamed forth, from every
part of his beautifully proportioned
form, convinced me, at a glance, that
it was no mortal being that I saw.—
The elevation of his brow gave digni
ty of the highest order to his counte
nance; but the most accute observa
tion was indicated by his piercing eye,
and inexorable justice was imprinted
on his majestic features. A glitter
ing phylactery encircled his bead, up
on which was written, as in letters of
fire “ The Faithful One.” Under
one arm he bore two volumes; in his
ljand he held a pen. I instantly knew
the recording angel—the secretary of
the terrible tribunal of heaven. With
a trembling which convulsed my
frame, I heard his unearthly accents.
“Mortal,” he said, “thou wast long
ing to recall the events of the past
year—thou art permitted to gaze up
on the record of the book of God.—
Peruse and be wise.” As lie spoke
thus he opened before me one of the
volumes which he had brought. In
fearful apprehension, I read in it my
own name, and recognised the history
of my own life during the past year,
with all its minutest particulars.—
Burning words were those which that
volume contained: all the actions and
circumstances of my life were regis
tered under their respective heads in
that dreadful book. 1 was first struck
by the title “Mercies Received.”—
Some were there the remembrance
of which I had retained—more which
were recalled after having been for
gotten—but the far greater number
had never been noticed at all. Oil!
what a detail of preservations, and
deliverances, and invitations, and war
nings, and privileges and bestowments!
I remember that “Sabbaths” stood
out in very prominent characters, as
as if they had been among the great
est benefits. In observing the reca
pitulation, l could not but be struck
with one circumstance—it was, that
many dispensations, which I had con
sidered curses, were enumerated
here as blessings. Many a wo which
had riven the heart—many a cup
whose bitterness seemed to designate
it as poison, was there, verifying the
language of the poet—“E’en crosses
from his sovereign hand, are blessings,
in disguise.” Another catalogue was
there—it was the enumeration of
“transgressions.” My hand trembles
as I remember them! What an im
mense variety of classes! Indiffer
ence—thoughtlessness—formality—
ingratitude-unbelief—sins against the
world—against the church—against
the sanctifier stood at the head of
their crowded battalions, as if for the
purpose of driving me to despair.—
Not one sin was forgolton there—neg
lected Sabbaths—abused ordinances—
misimproved time—encouraged temp
tations;—there they stood, with no
excuse, no extenuation. There was
one very long class I remember well,
“Idle Words;” and then the passage
flashed like lightning across my mind—
“For every idle word that men speak,
they shall give account in the day of
judgment.”
My supernatural visitant here ad
dressed me—“Dost thou observe
how small a proportion thy sins of
commission bear to those of omission ?”
as he spoke, he pointed me to instan
ces in the page like the following:—
“I was hungry and thou gavest me no
meat”—“l was thirsty and thou gav
est me no drink”—1 was sick and thou
didst not visit me.”—I was conscience
striken. In another part of the re
cord I read the title “Duties perform
ed.” Alas! how small was their num
ber! Humble as I had been accus
tomed to think the estimate of rny
good works, I was greatly disappoint
ed to perceive that many perform
ance on which I looked back on with
pride, were omitted, ‘‘because,” my
visiter informed me, “the motive was
impure.” It was, however, with feel
ings of the most affecting gratification,
I read beneath this record, small as it
was, the following passage; “Whoso
ever shall give a cup of cold water
only in the name of a discipline, he
shall in no-vvise lose his reward.”
Whilst I gazed on many other simi
lar records, such was the intense feel
ing which seemed to be awakened
within me that my brain grew dizzy,
and my eye became dim. I was a-
wakened from this sta^e by the touch
of iny supernatural iiistructer, who
pointed me to the volume in which
1 had read my own terrible history,
now closed, and bearing a seal on
which with sickening heart, I read the
insepriplion, “Reserved until the day
of judgment.”—“And now,” said the
angel, “my commission is completed.
Thou hast been permitted what was
never granted to man before.—What
thinkest thou of the record? Dost
thou not justly tremble? How many
a line is here, which, ‘dying, you could
wish to blpt!’ I see you already
shuddering at the thought of the dis
closure of this volume at the day of
Judgment, when an assembled world
shall listen to its contents.—But if
such be the record of one year, what
must be the guilt oj your whole life?
Seek, then, an interest in the blood
of Christ, justified by which, you shall
indeed hear the repetition, but not to
condemnation. Pray that, when the
other books are opened, your name
may be found in the book of life. And
see the volume prepared for the his
tory of another year: yet its page is
unsullied. Time is before thee—
seek, to improve it; privileges are
before thee; may they prove the gale
of heaven! judgment is before thee;
prepare to meet thy God.” He turn
ed to depart; and as I seemed to
hear the rustling which announced his
flight, I awoke. Was it all a dream?
From the New York Courier.
STATISTICS OF TURKEY.
The appellation of “Turk” was
first adopted in the middle ages, as a
general title of honor to all the nations
composing the two principal branches
of Tartar and Mogul. The word
“Tur,” as an adjective, signifies
“sublime and pre-eminent”—as a sub
stantive, it means “a governor.”
The Divan.—This state council
meets twice a week, in the emperor’s
palace, on Sundays and Thursdays.—
The grand vizier is the presiding offi
cer; the six viziers of the bench, the
testerdar, or high treasurer, the Reis
Effendi, the commissioners of the ex
chequer, and the military leaders
(the Agas,) compose the Divan. The
sultan does not enter the room, but
from an adjoining chamber he hears
all that passes.
On great occasions a general coun
cil is convened; all the leading persons
of the empire are summoned—the
clergy, the military, and other officers,
and even the old and most experienced
soldiers attend. Such a Divan is
called “Ajk Divani.”
The Grand Vizier.—This officer
receives his appointment from the
sultan. He has the care of the whole
empire; lie manages the revenue, ad
ministers justice, (both in the civil
and criminal affairs) and commands
the armies. Upon his appointment,
the sultan puts into his hands the seal
of the empire, which is the badge of
his office, and which he always wears
on his breast. His income amounts
to six hundred thousand dollars a year,
exclusive of presents and other per
quisites.
The Viziers of Bench are styled
Bashaws of three horse-tails—three
horse-tails being carried before them
when they march.
Begler-beg—A Bcglcr-beg is a
viceroy with, several provinces under
his command.
Pachas.—Pachas (Bashaw) is a
governor under a Begler-beg; a San-
giac is a deputy governor.
The Reis-Effendi is the lord
chancellor and-secretary of state; the
name signifies “chief of the writers.”
The Testerdar is the high treas
urer. The public treasury is never
touched, even by the sultan, except
in cases of the utmost emergency.—
The sultan has his private treasury,
which he uses at will. Some idea
may be formed of the enormous wealth
in the public treasury, which has been
accumulating under forty sultans, from
a statement of prince Cantf.mir.—
He says that, in his time, thirteen mil
lions and a half of rix dollars were an
nually returned to two treasuries.
The Mufti is the chief ecclesias
tic. His name signifies “an expoun
der of law”—he is consulted on all
emergencies. Should he commit trea
son, he is punished in a curious man
ner. He is put into a mortar, in one
of the seven towere, and there the law
expounder is pounded to death. Such
punishment has not been inflicted
since the reign of Am wrath IV.
Musselman—.This term is a cor
ruption of “Moslemin,” which signi
fies “persons professing the doctrine
of Mahomet.”
The Horse-tails.—Three horse
tails, surmounted by a golden ball,
form the military ensign of the Otto
mans. Its origin tvas as follows:
One of theii generals was at a loss
how to rally his men, their standards
having been lost in a fierce conflict.—
He cut oflf a horse’s tail, and elevated
it on the point of a spear. His troops
renewed the fight, and came offcon-
querers.
The Sublime Porte.—Constanti
nople is styled “the Sublime Porte—
the Porte of justice, majesty, and feli
city.” There have been various dis
putes about the origin of this appella
tion. Payne, an eminent Geographer
of the last century, says that it is de-.,
rived from the magnificent gate built
by Mahomet II. at the principal en
trance of the Seraglio
Constantinople.—It is wonderful
how little is generally known with re
gard to this magnificent city. Its sit
uation is the most delightful in the
world. With a harbor affording room
for a thousand ships—with the euxine
on its east, the natural current of the
wealth of Asia is through the Bospho
rus: and with Marmora on its south
and west, the productions of Arabia,
Egypt* and Europe, are at the com
mand of its commerce. In the hands
a commercial nation, it would soon be
come the centre of the commercial
world. It is encompassed by walls,
which have 22 gates—six towards the
land, six along the port, and ten on the
Marmora; these have stairs and land
ing places.
Constantinople, like Rome, is an
“urbe septicollis.” Its seven hills
rise from the shore in the form of an
amphitheatre; gardens, cypress groves
palaces, and mosques, rise one above
the other, and present a view worthy
of all admiration. The castle of the
seven towers is usued as honorable
prison. A square tower stands in the
sea, memorable as the prison of Belis-
arius. Near this are a great many
cannon level with the water, and
guarding the entrance of the port and
Seraglio.
Seraglio.—This word signifies “a
palace.” It is a collection of palaces,
a mile and a half in compass, enclosed
by a strong wall, on which are several
watch-towers, where guard is kept
night and day. The principal gate is
of marble, and is called the Porte.—
The gardens are very extensive: the
buildings are of white stone, and
gilded turrets and spires, and shining
in surpassing splendor.
St. Sophia.—The church of st.—
(Divine Wisdom) was built by Justin
ian, in the 6th century. The dome is
113 feet in diameter, resting on arches,
supported by immense marble pillars,
and the staircase and pavement are
marble. Here is the tomb of the em
peror Constantine.
The exchanges are splended build
ings, and the richest and rarest pro
ductions of the east are daily sold in
them in large quantities. Add to
these the numerous mosques, the thir
ty churches of the Greeks, and those
of the Armenians, the many private
palaces and public buildings, and you
have some idea of the opulence and
splendor of the capital of the great
Ottoman empire.
TO THE CONSCIENTIOUS RE
TAILER.
Have you not good and sufficient
reason for believing that the common
practice of vending ardent spirits by
the small quantity, has greatly increas
ed the sin of drunkenness?
How can you conscientiously contin
ue a practice which is productive of
so much evil? >
How can you conscientiously en
courage the use of New England Rum,
which by its cheapness, operates more
than any other single cause to multi
ply the number of drunkards, and hur
ry them to an untimely grave?
How can you conscientiously sell a
man rum, when you have reason to
believe that he has taken more than
he ought?
How can you furnish one with rum,
or other intoxicating spirits, when you
know that it will convert him into a
madman, and send him to abuse and
injure his family?
How can you sell a man ardent
spirits, when you clearly perceive
that he is wasting his property, and
reducing a worthy family to want?
Hbw can you .take ti poor mau’4
fourpence or uinepence every day as
he gets it, when you have reasou to
believe, his children are without a
morsel of bread, or wholly dependant
on charity?
, How can you conscientiously furnish
a man with his jug of rum on Saturday
evening, when you have sufficient rea
son to believe he will spend the Sab
bath in drunkenness, or riot, and per
haps call his neighbors in, to increase
the amount of wickedness?
How can you coscientiously assist
the man to this particular means of
self-murder, merely because he desires
it, when you would not, for your right
hand, sell him arsenic or laudanum for
the same purpose?
Above all, how can you conscientious
ly encourage or even permit, incon
siderate young men and boys to hang
about your store and drink, when you
must know that this is the high road to
intemperance, and they are beginning
to form a habit, which will, most
probably, end in their temporal and
eternal ruin?
Is it “ doing to others as ye would
that they should do to you” to witness
the existence of any of the evils to
which the preceding questions allude,
and not use .your influence to prevent
or remove them?
When you see the intemperate
perishing on your right hand and on
your left, does the solemn question
never occur, what influence have I
had in forming their character and
bringing upon them this ruin?
1 speak, as to wise men. Judge ye
what I say.—Christian Mirror.
A Crazy Cow.—A cow was landed
from a sloop on the west side of the
city on Wednesday afternoon, which
by some accident had fallen over
board. Shortly afterwards, she broke
away from those who had charge of
her, and ran furiously through the
streets, exhibiting unequivocal signs
ol madness. Many persons were at*
tacked by her and much hurt. In
Mott-street a man and child were ser*
riously injured, and one woman, we
learn, was killed. AD attempts to
restrain the cow proved abortive, un
til a fine, large bull-dog, the property
of one of our butchers, was produced.
He attacked her most heroically and
soon pined her by the muzzle to the
ground, where he held her resolutely
until she was secured by ropes, when
she ivas easily carried off and pre
vented from doing further mischief.
N. y. Gazette.
Dog Pump.—At Orange Farm, two
miles from Baltimore, may be seen a
pump worked by a small pointer dog.
This pump is more than fifty feet in
length, and the working of it was here
tofore the fatiguing labor of two men.
To the dog it is mere play. He at
his pleasure, either walks, trots, or
■ Jies down. When only walking, there
is a sufficient discharge of water for
all the purpose of a dairy. The wa*
ter never ceases to flow, but during
the very short intervals when the dog
may be lying down. From its thus
flowing, it has become very cold and
sweet; and it is thence believed, that
the water of most pumps would be
thus greatly improved. The princi
pal benefit, however, held out to the
community from this apparatus, is
that every farmer may have, at the
most convenient place, near his house,
a dairy as complete as if lie had a
good spring on the identical spot.—
The water from the pump will, in
deed, be more abundant, and general
ly much colder than water from a
spring. The dog, to be kept in mo
tion, requires not the attention of any
person; all that is necessary, is occa
sionally to give him a drink. The
pointer has been selected only on ac
count of his sprightliness. This appa
ratus costs only about $35, and there
fore it is within the reach of every
land-holder. It may, moreover, be
erected not only by all in the country,
but by man£ in our cities.—Farmer.
Greenock Anecdote.—A poor person
residing in Greenock, lately applied
to the magistrate to have two of his
children admitted on the poor’s roll,
“How many have you?” said the wor
thy Baillie/ “Five-and-twenty, Sir, ,r
replied the petitioner. “Five-and-
twenty!” re-echoed the Baillie; “and
all by one wife?” Oh no, Sir,” re
plied the poor man, “/am wearing the
fourth!” Glasgow Free Press.
A machine by which a man may
strike 30,000 bricks per day ha* beeft-
invented in Pam.svile| N. ,J>