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i—m —mn—iiwi ■ n i niM ■■■4i POETRY. SONG. BY MRS. HEMANS. If thou hast crusher! a flower, The root may not he blighted, If thou hast quenched a lamp, Once more it may be lighted; But on thv harp or orvthy lute, The string which thou hast broken, Shall never in sweet sound again Give to thy touch a token! If thou hast loosed a bird, - Whose voice of song could cheer thee, Still, still he may be won From the skies to warble near thee; Bu t if upon the t rcubled sea Thou hast thrown a gem unheeded, Hope not that wind or wave shall bring The treasure back when needed. If thou hast bruised a vine, The summer’s breath is healing, And its clusters yet may grow', Through the leaves their bloom reveal* mg; But if thou hast a cup o’erthrown With a bright draught tilled—oh! ne ver Shall earth give back that lavished wealth To cool thy parch’d lip’s fever! The heart is like that cup, If thou waste the love it bore thee, And like that jewel gone, Which the deep will not restore thee; And like that string of harp or lute Whence the sweet sound is scattered; Gently, oh! gently touch the chords So soon forever shattered! THE MOURNING WIDOW. From Pollok’s Course of Time. Look back, and one Behold, who would not give her tear for all The smiles that dance about the cheek of Mirth. Among the tombs she walks at noon of night, In miserable garb of widowhood. Observe her yonder, sickly, pale and sad, Bending her wasted body o’er the grave Of him who was the husband of her youth. The inoon-beams trembling thro’ these an cient yews, That stand like ranks of mourners round the bed Of death, fall dismally upon her face; Her little, hollow, withered lace, almost Invisible—so worn away with wo: The tread of hasty loot, passing so late. Disturbs her not; nor yet the roar of mirth, From neighboring revelry ascending loud. She hears, sees nought; fears nought; one thought alone Fills all her heart and soul; half hoping, half Remembering, sad, unutterable thought! Uttered by silence, and by tears alone. Sweet tears! the awful language eloquent Of infinite affection; far too big- For words. She sheds not many now: that grass, Which springs so rankly o’er the dead, has drunk Already many showers of grief: a drop Or two" are all that now remain behind, And from her eye, that darts strange fiery beams, At drearv intervals, drip down her cheek, Falling most mournfully from bone to bone. But yet sh'e wants not tears: that babe, that hangs Upon her breast, that babe that never saw Its father—he was dead before its birth— Helps her to weep, weeping before its time, Taught sorrow by the mother’s melting Voice, Repeating oft the father’s sacred name. Be not surprised at this expense of wo! The man she mourns was all she called her own: The music of her ear, light of her oye; Desire of all her heart; her hope, her tear: The element in which her passions lived— Dead now, or dying all. Nor long shall sire Visit that place of skulls: night after night, She wears herself away: the moon-beam now, That falls upon her unsubstantial frame, Scarce finds obstruction; and upon her bones, Barren as leafless bows in winter time, Her infant fastens his little hands, as oft, Forgetful, she leave him a while unheld. But look,-she passes not away in gloom: A light from far illumes her face; a light That comes beyond the moon, beyond the sun— The light of truth divine; the glorious hope Of resurrect'on at the promised morn, And meetings then which ne’er shall part again. MATTHEW, CHAP. X. ■rs, Dc&A-aT X. 1. ©scecKt-z wws Tcssinr Ec,oiia,i- A^), SF<8 Dhoiiye J0l>^A©4.I>5>, Drf jeT.0-0,1 RSI JtiifOff 0 SIiPE, Drf RSI awcM* iG~y. 2. 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P4o®a. 40. y®(»yR sGGR-opot.i G«y db t.x- T.R-OP-m.1; y®Z DB TiXbR-OP-nU, Goty UIiOPmU Dy(PRJ. 41. yez DGRsiPoiia DArfp<»y DArfp- c^y P-R O-.ISFoSA.ToiiPd?Jt, DArfPdty DSJ- uwia pr Go?>y g^9jbt.ap; yez dt.r-0- poT»a (PtoaT paesja o-vio-ar pr (pasPoiA- ao^p<»^, (pro-jt D«:soa dsjbwl* i*r g- <sry t^sjBGaiP. 42. yez tm* ^d jGdca <ppot!xa*v*'D- SFT OBA D*’ DrioDPoT'.T Dy«)GCo.lA^ PR (P.l»P<»Aa«PSfa, G>AJiC?Jcd RCsAS4op, iB Gooy (PT.O-OJI .?>P4<xa ipsjbrjrs. THE TRUE HISTORY OF ROB INSON CRUSO. When Capt. W. Rogers with the Duke and Duchess privateers of Bris tol, went, in 1702, to cruise against the Spaniards, in the South Seas, he ,found in the Island of Juan Fernandez a man clothed in goat skins, who look ed wilder than the original owners of them. He had been left on the Island four years and four months before, by Capt. Strodling, of the ship called the Cinque Ports, on account of a quarrel between them. His name was Alex ander Selkirk, and by the report of Capt. Dampicr, then on board with Rogers, ho was the best man in that ship. During his abode on the island, he saw several ships pass by, hut two only came to On anchor, these were Spaniards, some of whom landed, and shot at him before he was aware of them, so that he had much ado to es cape—Had they been French, he would have submitted to them; but he rather chose to risk the chance of dying in that desolate place, than trust to those who he apprehended would either murder, or send into the mines, an)* stranger who had a knowledge of the South Seas. When he was put on shore,' he had with him his clothes and bedding, a firelock, a pound of powder, some bullets, tobacco, a hatchet, a knife, a kettle, a bible and some other books, and mathematical instruments. He diverted and provided for himself as well as he could; but the first eight months could scarcely support his spi rits in a situation so forlorn, and so far remote from all human beings. He built himself two huts, with pimento trees, covered them with long grass, and lined them with the skins of goats which he had killfcd with his gun, so long as his powder lasted. When this was exhausted, he procured fire by rubbing two stick? of pomento wood upon his knees. In his lesser hut, which was at some distance from the other, he dressed his provisions; in the larger hut he slept, and employed himself in reading, singing psalms, and praying. At first he never ate any thing, till hunger constrained him; partly for want of bread and salt, and partly for grief; nor did he go to bed until be could watch no longer. The pimento wood, which burnt very clear, served him both for fire and candle, and refreshed him by the fragrance of its smell. He might have fish enough, but could not eat it for want of salt, cray fish excepted, which he found to be agreeable, and as large as lobsters; those he boiled or broiled as he did his goat’s flesh; from the latter he made excellent broth, as the goats there are not so rank as those in Eu rope. He kept an account of five hundred that he killed while he was there, and of as many more that he caught, and turned loose -again, after marking them on the ear. His way of life, and his continual exercise, improved his speed so much, that, when his powder failed, he fair ly ran the goats down. Capt. Rogers sent several of his swiftest men, with a bull-dog they had on hoard, to assist Selkirk in goat-catching; but he tired and distanced both the men and the dog, and brought back the goat on his back. He related that his agility in pursuing a goat had once nearly proved his destruction; for he pursued it with so much eagerness, that he caught hold of it at the brink of a precipice that was hid from him by the bushes. He fell down a great height; was stunned by the fall; lay therb about twenty four hours; and when he came to his senses found the goat lying dead under him; he w r as scarcely able to crawl to his hut at about a mile distance, or to stir abroad for ten days afterwards.— At length he came to relish his meat well enough without salt or bread; and in the season found plenty of good tur nips, which having been sown by Capt. Dampier’s men, had overspread sev eral acres of ground. He had enough of good cabbage from the cabbage- trees, and seasoned his meat with the fruit of the pimento, which is the Ja maica pepper. He soon ivore out all his clothes and shoes by running in the woods; so being forced at last to shift without them, his feet became so hard, that it was with difficulty he could reconcile himself again to shoes, which made his feet swell when he first put them on. He was at first much pestered with cats and rats, that had got on shore from the ships that wooded and wa tered there; but by cherishing the cats, many of which became so tame that they would lie about him in hundreds, he was quickly delivered from the rats. He also tamed some kids for his a- musement, so that he began to con quer the inconveniences of solitude, and grew very easy in his circumstan ces. He supplied his worn out clothes by a cap and a coat Qf goat-skin. stitched together with thongs of the same. He had no other needle hut a nail; and when his knife was worn to the back, he made ofhers as well as he could out of some iron hoops left on shore, which he beat thin and ground upon stones. Having some linen cloth by him, he sewed him some shirts with a nail, stitching them with the worsted of his old stockings, which he pulled out on purpose. He had his last shirt on when he came first on board, had so much forgot his language by disuse, that he uttered his words by halves, and could scarcely*be un derstood. — GENERAL SPECTACLE OF THE U- N1VERSE. “There is a God. The grass of the valley and the cedars of the moun tain bless him. The insect hums his praises. The elephant salutes him at the dawn of day. The bird sings for him under the foliage. Thunder dis plays his power, and the ocean de clares his immensity. It is man a- lone, who hath said there is no God!”. It may be said, that man is the man ifest thought of God, and that the uni verse is his imagination rendered sen sible. Those who have admitted the beauty of nature as a proof of a supe rior intelligence, should have remark ed a circumstance, which prodigious ly aggrandizes the sphere of miracle?. It is, that movement and repose, dark ness and light, the seasons, the march of the stars, with diverse decorations of the world, are successive only in appearance, in reality are permanent. The scene, which is effaced for us, is re-painted for another people. It is not the spectacle, but only the spec tator, who hath changed. God hath known a way, in which to unite,.abso- lute and progressive duration in his work. The first is placed in time; the. second in space. By the former, the beauties of the universe are one, infinite, always the same. By the oth er, they are multiplied, finished and renewed. Without the one, there would have been no grandeur in the creation. Without the other, it would have been all monotony. In this way, time appears to us in a new relation. The least of its fractions becomes a complete whole, which comprehends every thing, and in which all things are modified, from the death of an insect to the birth of the world. Every minute is in itself a little eternity. Bring together then, in thought the most beautiful accidents of nature. Suppose you see at the same time the hours of day and all the seasons; a morning of spring and a morning of autumn; a night bespangled with stars, and a night covered with clouds; meadows enamelled with flow ers, and forests robbed of their foliage by storms; plains covered with spring ing corn, and gilded with harvest.— You will then have a just idea of the universe. Is it not astonishing, that while you admire the sun, sinking under the ar ches of the west, another beholder observes him springing from the re gions of the morning? By what in conceivable magic is it, that this an cient luminary that reposes, burning and fatigued in the dust of the evening, is the same youthful planet, that a- vvakens, humid with dew under the whitening curtains of the dawn? At every moment in the day the sun is rising, in the zenith, or setting in some portion of the world; or rather, our senses mock us; and there is nei ther east, nor meridian, nor west. Can we conceive, what would be the spectacle of nature, if it were a- bandoned to simple movements oi‘mat ter? The clouds, obeying the law's of gravity, would fall perpendicularly on the earth; or w r ould mount in pyramids into the upper regions of the air.— The rpoment after, the air would be come too gross, or too much rarified for the organs of respiration. The moon, too near, or distant from us, would be at one time invisible, and at another would show herself all bloody, covered with enormous spots, or fil ling with her extended orb all the ce lestial dome. As if possessed with some wild vagary, she w r ould either move upon the line of the ecliptic, or,, changing her side, would at length discover to* us her face,- which the earth has not yet seen. The stars would show themselves stricken with the same vertigo, and would hencefor ward become a collection of terrific conjunctions. On a sodden, the con stellation of summer w r ould be de stroyed by that of winter. Bootes W’ould lead the Pleiades; and the Li on Tvould roar in Aquarius. There, the stars would fleet away w r ith the rapidity of lightening. Here theA would hang motionless. SometimA crowding into groups, they would for A a new milky way. v Again disappear®; ing altogether, and rending asundA the curtains of worlds, they would 0 A pen to the view the abysses of etemA ty. But such spectacles will neveA terrify men, before that day, whA God, quitting the reins, will need A other means of destroying the system® than abandon it to itself.—ChateaubrA and. < Tht Printer's Devil.—The name oA this mysterious personage has ion® been much handled about by printers'® greatly to their own amusement, but® frequently to the wonder of sundA unitiated readers. At the request o® a correspondent who has desired a A explanation of the term, we havel looked into the fact with some careA and the folloiving is the result of oujfj research. H “In the tenth year of his reign® f!74QU the first book printed i® France was executed at Paris by® Uberic Gering. The art of printing, jj which has had so powerful an influ. ence on the improvement of the hu* fa man mind, and in the reformation of|§ government and religion, known tora the Chinese, in a rude, though efficient® mode, upwards ol a thousand years H before, was re-discoyered, it is gen*B crally agreed, by Jpurentius Koster® a wealthy citizen* Hserlem, in Hoi-■ land, about the year 1430. Lauren* i tius, it is stated by an early writer ont! the discovery of printing, whe» walk* j ing in a wood; picked up a small bough ik' of a tree, Tvhich had been broken off | by the wind. He then sat down and I amused himself by cutting upon it I some letters, and wrapped up in an piece of paper the part which he had [I thus engraved. He afterwards fell a- sleep, and when he awoke, lie per ceived that the paper, having been j moistened from a shower of rain, had 1 received an impression from the let ters, which induced him to pursue the accidental discovery, he applied it to printing. Laurentius, however, 1 proceeded no further than to the use of xvooden blocks, in the manner of stereotype. To this incipient mode an improvement was made by two brothers, named Genisfleiche, or Get- teinburg, who had been in the em ployment of Laurentius, and after his death carried off his printing blocks to Mcntz, in Germany; where they succeeded in forming separate metal types, with engraved faces. But the art was yet far from being completed. It seems to have been brought nearly to its present state of perfection, by Peter Schoeffer, of the latter city; who, in the year 1456, cast a fount of types from matrices, or moulds, pre viously cut with the several letters. With this invention, John Faustvs, now his partner, but formerly his em*- ployer, was so much pleased, that he- gave the ingenius artist his only daugh ter in marriage. In the year 1460, Faustus, (or Faust as he is sometimes called,) and his partner Schoeffer printed an edi tion of the Bible. This was a very expensive work, and was five years in the press. It was this edition, aB some authors relate, of which Faustus carried a number of copies to Paris; where he sol'd them, first for six hun dred, then for five hundred crownfc each; which were the prices common ly given to the scribes, for very ele gant copies of the scriptures: he af terwards, by degrees, reduced the price to thirty crow'ns. It is said that purchasers were ignorant that 4hese copies vvere printed; and that it was the policy of Faustus to make them believe that they were written.-They were an exact imitation of the best manuscripts. As he lowered his price, his sales increased, and people were astonished at his producing copies as fast as they were w r anted. When he reduced the price to thirty crowns, all Paris was amazed, both on ac count of the uniformity and the quan tity produced. It was believed that he had made a league with the devil; and he was accused of being a magi cian. The Catholic clergy were a* larmed, as they feared the Scriptures would get into the hands of laymen.— His lodgings were searched by the police—several Bibles w'ere found, and the red ink with which the illumi nators had made the great capitals at at the beginning of each chapter, was pronounced to be his blood. Faustus fled, and escaped the death which a- waits such hapless victims of super stition; and from this story originated the story of “the Devil and Doctor Faustus.”— Phil. Ariel.