Newspaper Page Text
t
POETBV.
From the New Mmithly Magazine.
THE RUINED HOUSE.
BT rtl.IOIA HEMAN9.
“Oh! ’tis the heart that magnifies this
life,
Making a tenth and beauty of its own.”
Wordsworth.
’‘Birth has gladdened it; Death hath sane*
tified it.
Guesses at truth,
JiTo dower of storied song is thing,
O desolate abode J
Forth from thy gates no glittering line
Of lance and spear hath flow’ 1.
Banners of Knighthood have not flung
Proud drapery o’er thy walls,
Nor bugle-notes to battle rung
Trough thy resounding halls,
Nor hare rich powers of Pleasaunte
here
By courtly hands been dress’d,
For princes, from the chase of deer,
g Under green leaves to rest:
nly some rose, yet lingering bright
B esides thy casements lone,
Tells where the Spirit of Delight
FHath dwelt, and now is gone.
Yet minstrel-tale of harp and sword,
Bnd sovereign Beauty’s lot,
fiou=e of quench’d light and silent boarol
For me thou needest not.
It is enough to know that here»
Where thoughtfully I stand,
Sorrow and Love, and Hope and r car,
Have link’d one kindred band.
Thou binde9t me with mighty spells?
—A solemnizing breath,
A presence all around thee dwells
Of human life and death.
I need but pluck yon garden flower
From where the wild weeds rise,
To wake with strange and sudden power,
A thousand sympathies!
Thou hast heard many sounds, thou hearth,
Deserted now by all!
Voices at eve heve met in mirth,
Which eve mav ne’er reca’l.
Y-> th’s bouyant step, and Woman’s tone,
And Childhood’s laughing glee,
And song, and prayer have well been
„ known,
Heirlh of the Dead 1 to thee.
Thou hast heard blessings fondly pour’d
U <on the infant-head,
As :f in every fervent word
The living soul were shed:
Thou hast seen pa. tings—-uch as bear
The bloom from Life away-*-
A'a ! for Leve in changeful air,
Where nought beloved can stay t
Her®, by the restless bed of Paint
The vigil hath been kept,
Til) sunrise, bright with Hope in vain,
Burst forth on eyes that wept:
Here hath been felt the hush, the gloom,
The breathless influence shed
Through the dim dwelling, from the room
Wherein repose the dead.
The seat left void, the missing face,
H.ive here been marked and mourned;
And Time hath filled the vacant place,
Ami Gladness hath returned;
Tdl from the narrowing household chain
Th" links dropped one by one;
And homeward hither o*"r the main
Came the Spring-birds alone.
Is ther" not cause then—cause for thought,
Fix’d eye, and lingering tread,
Where w th their thousand mysteries
fraught,
Ev’n lowliest hearts have bled!
Where, in its ever-haunting thirst
For draughts of purer day,
Man’s soul, with fitful strength, hath burst
The clouds that wrapt its ways’
Holv to human nature seems
The long-forsaken spot!
To deep affections, tender dreams,
Hopes of a brighter lot!
Therefore in silent reverence here,
Hearth of the Dead! I stand,
Where Joy and Sorrow; Smile and Tear,
Hare boxed one kindred hand!
MISCELLANEOUS.
From the Macon Telegraph.
ON GAMBLING.
tROM AN tJNCLE TO HIS NEPHEW.
My dear Jrepkeitj-^-You are now in
position of gome property, which is,
with prudent management, entirely
• ilficient to afford you a competence
tmough life. There are, however,
many temptations to which you will
necessarily be exposed in your inter
course with the different charaeteri
Who compose the family; Gaming,
perhaps, is one of the most fascinat
ing, and destructive in consequences
of all others—one into which you will
be most likely to fall without due
caution of its danger. If you should
happen to visit Milledgeville during
the s *gsion of the Legislature, or to
attend the sitting of the Superior
Courtrin the different circuits, the
black legged gentry will be found to be
almost as numerous as the members
of both houses and of the bar.
Indeed, you will see men there
who are ashamed to associate with
the depraved gambler in public,
whose standiu 1 in society, as also their
4c^uiremeul», would be sufficient to
reflect credit upon more laudable pro
fessions; slily emergiug from the back
door of one of those sinks of corrup
tion where the game of Faro (some
times with a bank, but oftener with
out one) is constantly kept in opera
tion.
Should you my dear R. ever visit
one of those depraved places (which
God forbid) there will be seen the
impatient gamester, seated behind a
small table covered with green cloth,
with his silver box, ivory checks, both
red and white, cards well shaved
and shuffled, for the express purpose
of fleecing the unguarded and unsus*
pecting of their last remaining dollar.
Liquors of every description are also
to be found in the gambler’s apart
ment, prepared so as to cause imme
diate inebriation. Whenever a man
is so blind to his future welfare and
happiness, as to suffer himself to re
sort to the Faro Table, no matter for
what purpose, his fate may be consid
ered doubtful. He is there subject
to temptation, is accosted with flat
tering and persuasive language to try
his luck upon the game. At length
he is resolved to try his fortune, by
risking ten dollars. The inevitable
consequence of which, is the loss of
his money. Involuntarily, as it were,
he puts his hand in his pocket and
takes out ten dollars more, which is
also bet and lost.
The irritated better then begins to
feel somewhat nervous, and irritated
at the loss of his twenty dollars,
walks to one corner of the room, takes
a drink of intoxicatiiig liquor, which
gives him nerve and spirit to bet
more freely.
Presently he returns to the gaming
table, thinks it will never do to quit
the game loser, therefore is deter
mined to win back his twenty dollars,
or lose twenty more in the attempt.—
A call is now made upon the banker
for twenty dollars worth of his white
checks, throwing down twenty dollar
bill upon the table, which is readily
received by the banker into his mo
ney box. Twenty white checks are
then counted to the eager adventurer
who bets five of them upon his favor
ite card, waiting with intense anxiety
for the turn.
Soon the card is turned and wins
for the better. This circumstance
revives him very much; is now cer
tain his luck has changed, lets all the
money remain upon the same card;
presses five dollars more to it, (to use
a gambler’s phrase) so confident is he
that it will win for him again. Well,
the dealer proceeds to turn the cards,
when behold upon the second turn,
the banker rakes the money.
Some person w r ho is probably in
terested in the bank, cries out that
the Jack is a calculation card, where
upon the infuriated adventurer, fool
hardy like, throws down his other ten
dollars upon the named card, then
with a palpitating heart gazing for the
result.
The exasperated better then curs
es his cards, swears he is the most
unfortunate man upon earth, thinks of
the many valuable articles he could
have purchased for his family if he
has one, with the lost money, but for
fear reason will interpose he again
steps to the corner of the room, takes
another draught of the intoxicating
liquor, which now renders him an ad
mirable subject for the gamblers to
fleece, without any disguise on their
part.
Half distracted the unfortunate be
ing with a blind devotion, once more
repairs to the table, draws out his
pocket book, then commences rush
ing his luck as it is called, until his
•last remaining stake makes Its exit
from among the pot cards where it
was bet, into the banker’s box.
An attempt is now made to borrow,
if his credit be good, or can And any
friend so imprudent as to loan him
money on such an occasion; which
borrowed money is almost immediate
ly transferred through the agency of
Rheuben. or some other losing card,
into the Faro banker’s box.
Not a farthing is now left in his
pocket to pay his tavern bill, or to de
fray his expenses home.
Compelled by sheer necessity to
abandon a game upon which he would
willingly hazard all subject to his con
trol, between midnight and day, he
walks reluctlantly to his boarding
house, crawls in at a window, goes to
bed, hut sleep is a stranger to his
tye-lids.
A feverish excitement pervades his
whole system. Turning himself up
on his bed, he reflects upon the heart
rending scenes of the past night.—
Himself reduced tb penury, perhaps
a widowed mother or an orphan sis
ter or an affectionate wife and child
ren, have been beggared by his fatal
imprudence. t
Perhaps an honest client, or em
ployer, who entrusted him with pecu
niary affairs, has also been defrauded
to a large amount, His misery is
now complete. His reflections in
supportable. Recourse is either had
to the bottle to drown the unfortunate
man’s sorrows, or to the loaded pis
tol to put a speedy end to his misera
ble existence. Such then is the ul
timate end of those who resort to the
Faro table. Suffer me now, in con
clusion, to entreat you, as you value
health, happiness, property, and rep
utation, to shun, with a studied aver
sion, the companj of the faithless
gambler, as well qs the places to
which he resorts; f&r be assured that
his evil practic es will quickly lead
you the downward* path to misery,
and premature death.
Most affectionately, yours, &c.
H, C. D.
From the Edingburjh Literary Journal.
Monsters not mentioned in Linnaeus.
For a succession of ages naturalists
have endeavored to inculcate the
opinion, that wild beasts are only to
bo found among the brute creation;
but the melancholy fact is at length
ascertained, that many monsters be
sides those which usually haunt dens
and caves, go loose in society under
false pretences, deluding that public:
upon whom they prey, into a belief of
their harmlessness. We propose
stirring a few of them up with the
long pole of our inginuity; and on the
old principle of place am dames, we
shall begin with
The Consequential Wise-Man Mon
ster—Self-conceit, pomposity, and
the profound admiration of one wo-
wan, have been an over-match for
the originally weak intellect of Mr.
Owlstare. He now imagines him
self a walking Encyclopaedia and the
final court of appeal in all cases
where a literary, political moral or
religious dispute arises Ask hitn to
meet with the most eminent men of
the day, and he never for a moment
supposes that the compliment is paid
to him, but to them. Tell him one
of your best slories, and it will fail
to produce any effect upon him he
merely hints that he heard it better
told before. Make one of your pro-
foundest observations on philosophy
or political economy, and he will only
hem, and look half sage, half con
temptuous. Try him upon the fine
arts and he gives you to understa’d.
that unless you have been to the Va
tican, you cannot sail upon the same
tack with him. Venture into the ar
ena of science, and you are silenced
by hearing him pionounce Sir Hum
phrey Davy a merer schhool boy.
The use he makes of all the informa
tion he possesses, is to exalt himself;
and when his ignorance by chance
stares him in the face, he gets out of
this dilemma, by trea'inghis adversa
ry with sarcastic indifference. In
general company this manner is suc
cessful. He is not much liked, but
he is immensely respected. Hospi
table country gentleman, middle rate
lawyers, wealthy merchants, with all
their wives and all their daughters,
hardly know how to treat him with
sufficient deference. Every body
begs the honor of drinking wine with
Mr. Owlstare; every body is anxious
to know what Mr. Owlstare thinks
upon the subject; every body sends the
nicest cut of the whole salmon, and the
wing and the breast of the chicken,
to Mr. Owlstare. He goes into
the drawing room and the lady of the
house carries him his tea cup with
her own hands; whilst her eldest girl,
‘■who was seventeen the fifth of last
December,” brings him the cake.
He eats and drinks an unconscionable
quantity, but every body is continual
ly beseeching him to eat and drink.
He goes home about nine; a kind of
disagreeable caricature of Samuel
Johnson; and his absence occasions,
unconsciously, so general a relief,
that the young people, in the exuber
ance of their spirits propose a qua
drille, and the previous generation
sit down at whist, enlivening the pau
ses of the game by the most animated
encomiums on Mr. Owlstare.
The Treacle-Tongued Monster—Is
commonly a female. She is probably
a would-be-young old maid, who lias
warmed herself into a sort of paltry
independence, principally by having
had several legacies left her,’ as the
wages of toad eating. She visits a
good numbed of families of respecta
bility, on what she considers an easy
and intimate footing; that is to sayj
she can look in upon them very soon
after breakfast, or about tea-time,
and she is sure not to derange their
domestic economy, for they will say—
“Oh! it is only Miss Amelia Trea
cle tongue.” Her conversation is ve
ry thickly studded with tender ap-
peltativcs; such as “riiy dear;” terms
ill which she continually addresses all
her acquaintances. She is always
very particular in her inquiries on the
subject of health, and is distressed, to
hear of the slightest ailment. A head-
ach “alarms” her, a couch “sug
gests the fear of consumption,” a Soar
throat makes her pathetic, and re
minds her of the “uncertainty of hu
man existence.” She calls to ask
after the patient every day, often
twice a day, until the most perfect
convalescence has taken place. She
apparently has the most ardent at
tachment for all children. She takes
every little urchin in her arms, kisses
him, calls him a “darling cherub,”
and gazes on him delightedly, (at
least when his mamma or papa is
present,) although the said “darling
child” be a spoiled, clumsy, dumpy,
red-headed, disagreeable varlet.
With all the minitiaa of little family
histories, Miss Treacletongue is
particularly well acquainted; she
communicates a piece of scandal in
the softest and most confidential man
ner; she “hints a doubt,” or “hesi
tates dislike,” with a whispery gentle
ness, quite irresistible. She is rath
er delicate, yet goes abroad in all
weathers. At table-not in her own
house, but that of a friend, she is
continually pressing you to eat, and
animadverting on the poorness of jour
appetite. She has no taste or ear for
music; but is exceedingly useful in
praising the efforts of all young ladies
of the house, and in aflecting rapture,
till others think it necessary to affect
it too. She is rather religious, and
has a temper which nothing on earth
would be capable of ruffling; yet in
truth, if her real character were
known, she is the most peevish, hy
pocritical, greedy, selfish, and tyran
nical being in existence. She is a
concentration of stings, smeared with
an external coat of honey; and does
more mischief in her own officious,
sneaking, underhand way, than a hun
dred bold down-right murderers, who
kill their men, and are hanged for
it.
The Clever Youug Man Monster.—
The giovvth of this species of monster
has been so rapid, that it almost calls
lor the interference of the Icgislatuie.
Like the rots of the old Egyptian city,
they threaten to eat up every thing.
One can hardly turn without meeting
this monster; He is about two and
twenty; has rather an expressive face
a.id an interminable volubility of
tougue. He is not one of those who
hide their light under a bushel.
Upon all subjects he is equally at
home—that is to say, equally super
ficial. He knows all about the next
Waverley novel; he writes in Black
woods Magazine, or at least says he
u i ties in it, and can tell you who all
the articles are by. On the corn
laws, the drama, the Catholic ques
tion, the opera, prenology, and mod
ern poetry, he is ever ready to pour a
torrent of midi mation, of somewhat
ephemeral interest, it is true,—but
that is not his fault. He writes and
speaks on every subject that comes in
his way. His father is proud of him;
his sisters admire him; his cousins die
for him. He publishes a thin quarto
volume of very magnificently printed
poetry, and like James Montgomery’s
his owu portrait faces the little page,
—-his nock is bare, and his shirt col
lar turned down a la Byron,—his hair
combed back over his brow, and his
eye looking upwards, to see what is
to be seen in the sky. Sensible men
pronounce him a coxcomb, but the
unitiated dircover genius in every line,
and milliners fall into a pining melan
choly by the hundred. Then comes a
shower of Albums, and he writes in
every one of them, and signs his name
at full length by way of authograph.
All this, thought it may make, the
unskilful laugh, cannot but make the
judicious grieve.” The Clever young
man Monster, unless roused by ridi
cule into common sense and a useful
pursuit, sinks into premature oblivion,
and lives to wonder at his own little
ness.
joseFhus
THE JEWISH HISTORIAN.
Josephus, whose “History the
Wati of the Jews,” is too welt kfioAtt
to need any description, was jiorn at
Jerusalem, in the year ofCafusCai-
gula. At sixteen, he began to enquire
into the sentiments of the different
sects atoong the Jews—the Pharisees,
Saducees and Essenes. At twenty-
six, he went to Rome, to petition the
emperor in behalf of several priests
of his acquaintance, whom Felix had
sent bound to Rome. He ingratiated
himself with the wife of Nero, by
whose interests he succeeded in ob<*
taing liberty for his friends, and from
whom he also received many presents.
He then returned to Judea, when he
saw every thing tending to revolt un‘
der Gesius Florus. In the beginning
of the Jewish war, he commanded in
Gallilee. He was afterwards taken
prisoner by Vespasian. He and forty
more Jews had concealed them
selves in a cavern, where tbfcy form
ed the desperate resolution of killing
each other, rather than surrender
themselves to the Romans. Josephud;'
having been governor of the place and , ‘
therefore Chtitled to priority in point
of rank, they yielded to him the honor
of becoming the first victim. He
however contrived to divert their
minds from this, by proposing to cast
lots for the precedency; and oftejri
thirty-nine had ballotted and kitied
each other, he, and the other that sur
vived, agreed not to lay violent band*
upon themselves, nor imbrue their
hands in one anothers blood, but de
liver themselves up to the Romans.
Upon this Josephus surrendered
himself up to Nickanor, who conduct
ed him to Vcspaeian. When brought
into the presence of the latter, Jose
phus told him he had something to
communicate to him which would
probably strike him with surprise, and
perhaps obtain his immediate credit—
it was, that he should become empe—
ror of Rome in less than three years.
Aware that the general might think
this a stratagem of Josephus to save
his life, the latter taJd him he did not
wish for his liberty; he was content
to be kept as a close prisoner during
that time; and that should his predic
tion be realized lie was content then
to be put to death. Vespasian yielded
to his request, although, at first, he
placed no credit in what Josephus had
said. He, how ever, kept the latter*
with him as a prisoner while he him
self continued in those parts; but when
he heard lie had been elected empe
ror of Rome, he gave him his liberty,
and raised him to his confidence and
favor.
Josephus continued with his son Tm
tus, who took command of the army
after his father Vespasian had gone to
Rome. He was present at the siege
of Jerusalem, and was a spectator of
the awful desolations of the city, tem
ple and country, and soon after wrote
his history of the Jewish Wars, and
Jewish Antiquities. The whole were
finished in the 56lh year of his ace,
A. D. 93. b
Proposals
F OR publishing, in the town of Nash**
ville, a paper under the title of the
JUVENILE MUSEUM—to be edited by
Wilkins F. Tannehill and William T,
Berry. Periodical publications have be-'
come so numerous, that proposals for issu
ing them are, by no means, novel or un--
common. We, with pleasure, witness the?
iterary taste of our country increasing,
end, therefore, cherish the hope that so
humble undertaking will meet with su c-
cess. Another circumstance which rai se
our expectations is, that no publication of
precisely a similar kind has ever been aa
tempted in the Western country.*
It may be deemed the height of arre*.
gance for us—without the endowment of
talents or the advantages of experience—
to attempt to offer to the rising generation
any thing like a source of amifsetnent.—
But we hope our endeavors, However un
successful, will not be mistaken for vanity
or presumption. Young ourselves, (hav
ing but little more than centred oijr teens)
we intend to devote our exertions to th©
entertainment, if not instruction, of the
Fouthful part of the community; and al
though we have no pretensions to literary
onainence, we may occasionally offer some
thing not entirely unworthy the acceptance
of more advanced age.
We will not promise too much, lest we
should fail; we, therefore, only add, that
we will endeavor so to conduct our papet
as to meet the approbation of its patrons;
and that whilst it is a source of pleasure to
them, it may be a means of improvement
to us.
|C3* C ommunications will be received
wilh gratitude, and attended to witV
promptness.
Conditions.—■'The Juvenile Museum will?
be published oiice a week, on a half sheet'
of medium paper; at $1,50 per afinum,
payable in advance. To be commenced
as soon as a sufficient number of subset];
hers areobtained.