Newspaper Page Text
P0ETE2T.
is, however, I
ily resol
md to be a mat-
thari nocom-
m
f rom tub Baltimore gazette.
GREEK SONG.
Movyii, Eoldier, mount, thy gallant steed—
Seek, seek, the ranks of war •*
’Tis better there in death to bleed,
Than drag a tyrant’s car.
Strike! strike! nor think the blow unseen
That frees the limbs where chains have been.
Oh no! each dying shoot that peals
. From continent or isle,
Each smoke that, curling slow, reveals
A city’s funeral pile,—
Are heard and seen among the free,
Whose hearts are struggling, Greece, with thee. '*
On, on, for Karaiskaki’s hand!
Look where the crescents wove;
They clar.ce above a ruined land,
Like death-liclKS o’er a crave;
One prayer, one thoncht of Marathon,
And they are quenched—on, soldier, on!
But yet, if not the glorious past,
*Nor hope of future fame,
Nor chains of steel around thee cast,
Urge thee to war with shame—
Think that be3 T ond the parting sea
The prayers of beauty rise for thee.
Nay, cast not on thy infant child v
That look of fond regret,—
Mind not that shriek of sorrow wild,—
Thy wife shall clasp thee yet.
God and the fair across the wave
Watch o’er the children of the brave.
Then, soldier, mount thy gallant steed:
Seek, seek, the ranks of war:
’Tis better there in death to bleed,
Than drag a tyrant’s car;
One clasp—one kiss,—then, soldier, on
And win another Marathon.
FROM THE BOSTON LYCEUM.
TO A LADY.
When memory fondly lingers near
The silent grave where love reposes,
Aud sheds, with burning eye, the tear
On the pale wreath of withered roses;—
Some serdph form in brightness clad,
Comes «o dispel the gloom of sorrow,
Bids the lone mourner’s heart be glad,
And whjispers, ‘ she will wake to-morrow.*
Thus when beside the cheerless grave,
Of fond ftopes perish’d, crash’d, and blighted,
The minstrel stood and madly gave
His heait, where all his vows were plighted;
Then, lad/, then thy seraph smile
Bearn’m o’er the heart by sorrow riven,
He bless’di thee—for he deem’d the while
That foAra the harbinger of heaven!
lie Mess’dj thee—for that angel voice,
In accciKts soft as mercy’s pleading, <
Bade sorrow’s mourning child rejoice,
And heaffed the heart with anguish bleeding.
Jfe lox?d tti{*e!—hut as pure ones love,
e given:
aven.
? hope is banish’d,
■are rnn,
S .visvpas yinisued*—
w — no tear or Sorrow »
ie lustre of thine eyes—
Bat efery.bmrr from love shall borrow
New bliss to lend thee as it flies.
KlT-K.iT SKETCHES.
My Wife’s Mother,
My uncle George was never easy till he
got all the males of the family married. He
has said to me, at least a hundred times,
« John I’m surprised you don’t settle.’ I
did not at first understand his meaning. I
was walking with him in the Temple Gar
dens, and while we were in the act of con
templating the beauties of the majestic
Thames—I allude to a man in a red night
cap walking to and fro on a floating raft
of tied timbers, and a coal-barge embedded
in mud—he slopped short on the gra^l
walk and said, ‘John, why don’t you set
Concluding that he was tired, 1 answ^
* Oh, by all means ;* and sat down in
green alcove at the eastern extremity of tjie
footpath. ‘ Pho !* said my uncle, f ( d/oyt
mean that. 1 mean why don’t you many ?
There’s your brother Tom is settled, and
ha3 had seven children, not reckoning two
who have died of the measles : and Charles
is settled, and has nine; his eldest boy Jack
is tall enough to thump him ; and Edward
is settled, at least he will be, as soon as
Charlotte Payne has made up her mind to
live in Lime-street. I wonder why you don’t
settle.” * Pray uncle,' said I, «of what
Buck's Lodge are you a noble brother?’ ‘Why
do you ask?’ said he. « Because,’ replied I,
‘ you seem to think men are like masonry—
never to be depended upon till they settle.’
As we walked homeward, we saw that ad-
venturousVaeronaut Gamerin flying over
our heads : and while we were wondering at
his valour, he cut the rope that fastened his
balloon to his parachute, and began to de
scend in the latter towards the earth. My
uncle George began to run as fast as his
legs could carry him, looking all the while
so intently upwards, that he did not advert
to a house-maid and two children, whom he
accordingly upset in his course, and nearly
precipitated into the subjacent ooze.
«What's the matter, uncle ?’ said 1. * Mat
ter !' answered my outinian relative, ‘ why,
I'm going to look after Garnerin. I shall
never be easy till I see him settled.'
In process of time my uncle began to be
seriously displeased at my not settling. Po
pulation, he seemed to opine, was on the
wane: and if any thing should happen to
brothers Tdm and Charles, and their re
spective families, not omitting Edward and
his issue, when his intended wifeshOuldhave
conquered he repugnance to Lime-street,
what would become of the House of Jack
in? It might be dead, .defunct, extinct,
The BataVian gov
Lord Duncan’s naval victory* passed a se
ries of resolutions, the first ofwhidh ran thus
‘ Resolved, that a new marine be built 1 ;’but
I never heard of a single seventy four that
ever after issued’ from Rotterdam docks:
and certain disaffected Hibernians in Dub
lin, in the year 17S8, by way of discouraging
British trade, made a patriotic determination
in the words and figures following, that is to
say, * Resolved, that every thing coming
from England be burned, except her coals,
which we have occasion for.’ Paddy here
put himself in a cleft stick, and so did I
when I resolved to fall in love. A man may
fail in a ditch whenever he pleases,—he
must fall in love when and where he can.
My mother recommended Susan Roper
to me as^ [suitable match ; and so she was
f^far q^peumstanoes extend. Her father
a reputable coal merchant, living m
C, ‘tham-place: I tried very much to be in
love with be*!, and one warm evening when
she sang ‘ Hush every breeze,’ in a boat un
der the second arch of Blackfriar’s bridge,
and accompanied herself upon the guitar, I
thoughtl was in love—but it went off before
morning. I was afterwards very glad it was
so, for Susan Roper turned out very fat, and
ate mustard with her roast beef. She mar
ried Tom Holloway, the Policy broker, and
I wished him jov. I wish it him still, hut 1
doubt the effic.acy of my prayers, inasmuch
as his wife’s visage bears a strong resem
blance to the illuminated dial-plate of St.
Giles’s church clock.
My next affair was more decisive in its
results. Old Mrs Cumming, of St. Helen’s
place, Bishopsgate-street, had a daughter
named Jane, who taught me some duetts.
We sang * When thy bosom heaves a sigh,’
—‘ Take hack the Virgin page,’ and * Fair
Aurora,’ with impunity. But when it came
to * Together let us range the fields,’ where
the high contracting parties talk about ‘ tink
ling rills, and ‘rosy beds,’ the old lady who
had hitherto sat in seeming carelessness on
the sofa, hemming dovleys, requested to
speak with me in the hack drawing-room ;
and after shutting the door, asked me my in
tentions. M v heart was in my mouth, which
plainly implied that it was still in my own
keeping. Nevertheless, I had no answer
ready; so Jane Cumming and I were mar
ried on that day month. My Uncle George
was so delighted at my being settled, that,
after making us a present of a silver coffee
pot, he exclaimed * I shall now die happy,’
an intention, however, which he has since
show!) himself in no hurry to carry into ef
fect Now came my wife’s mother into
nlay. Sparrows leave their daughters to
shift for themselves the moment they are a-
ble to take the wing. (My uncle George
calls this barbarous, and says, they should
wait till they are settled.) Rut in Christian
countries, like England, one’s wife’s moth
er is not so unnatural. Mrs. Cumming lives,
as I before mentioned, in St. Helen’s place;
I reside in Finsbury-circus: so that the old
lady has only to cross Bishopsgate-street,
pass through the church-yard, and issue
through the iron bars at the base of Broad-
street buildings, and here she is. This
makes it so very convenient* that she is nev
er out of my house. Indeed, all the congra
tulations of my wife’s friends, verbal and
epistolary, ended with this apophthegm:
£ Ulion if mnet Un cjft JftK/vVktr.il 4** .»_..Ia _ I
eni,‘ after get the books we want, and when we want
t0 th® c ]* ar 9^ 5 It appears to me that a book
club ivoura be a good thing if we could but
Then it must be so delightful to youtiohave
your Mamma so near !’ It is, in fact; not
only delightful, but quite providential. I do
not know what my wife would do without
my wife’s mother. She is the organ blower
to the organ—the kitchen jack to the kitch
en fire—the verb that governs the accusa
tive case.- Mrs. Cumming' has acquired,
from the pressure of time, rather a stoop in
her gait ? but whenever my wife is in the
family way, my wife’s mother is as tall and
perpendicular as a Prussian life-guardsman.
Such a bustling about the house, such a cry
of‘hush’to the pre-existent children, anc!
such a bevy of directions to Jane! The
general order given to my wife is to lay flat
upon her back, and look at nothing but the fly
trap lhat hangs from the ceiling. For five
months out of the twelve, my wife is parallel
to the horizon, like a good quiet momimen-
tal wife in Westminster Abbey,and my wife’s
mother is sitting beside her with a bottle of
Eau de Cologne in one hand, and one of my
book-club books in the other. By the way,
talking of book-clubs, it makes a great dif
ference, as to the utility of those Institutions,
whether the members of them are married
or single. My wife’s mother is a woman
of uncommon purity of mind, and so conse
quently is my wife. We have accordingly
discarded our Malone and Stephens to make
way for Bowdler’s Family Shakespeare.
My expensive quarto edition of Paradise
Lost printed for J. &> J. Richer, Great New-
port-street, in the year 1794, is dismissed to
an empty garret, because it contains cuts of
our first parents undecorated by the tailor
and milliner.
I sent up stairs yesterday for something
to amuse me, hoping for De Vere, and down
came little Billy with Baverstorkon brew
ing, with a portrait of the author prefixed,
myself drink nothing but water, but the
secretary of the club brews his own beer,
sent back Baverstock on brewing, with a re
quest for something more funny; whereup
on my wife’s mother sent me down Sermons
by the Rev.Somelhing Andrews, Walworth,
with a portrait of the author likewise prefix
ed. Mr. Burridge, the indigo broker, hap
pened to be with me when this latter publi
cation arrived ; and when we happened also
ne-
iike the Plantagenets and *Montmorencies i to be discoursing about what trade mv ue-
©f other days, unless I, -gohn Jackson, ofi phew Osgood should be' brought up to, Mr.
• F,n ?!f ry Circiis » UI )denvriter, became ac-lBurridge cast his eye upon the portrait, and
ces*aij to its; constitution. The diletnmaTsaid, “ Has -your nephew got black whis-
' vas aw * u ’ and mv uncle George had money kers V 1 Yes’ I answered. ‘ And a- white
40lcavc * 1 accordingly resolved to fal|ih | shirt collar?’ ‘ Yes.’ ‘ Then, bring him. up
them. But perhaps I am too particular.
Vjf e never have a dinner,without of course,
inviting my wife’s mother. Indeed she al
ways settles the day, the dishes, and Ihe
party.—Last Wednesday I begged hard
to have Jack Smith invited ; but no—my
wife’s mother was inexorable. The last
time he dined with us, he was asked for a
song. Mrs. Cumming wanted him to sing
* My Mother had maid called Barbara ;’
thinking that daughters should bear in mind
not only their mothers, but their mothers’
maids ; whereupon what does Jack do, but
break cover as follows :—
“ The Greeks they went fighting to Troy ;
The Trojans, they came out to meet ’em :
’ Tis knotvn to each little school-hoy,
How the Creeks they horse-jockey’d and beat
’em.
“ No house in that day was secured ;
They made them too hot for their holders;
And Aeneas, not being insured;
Packed otf with his dad on his shoulders,
kinging Rumpti, &cl”
This was intolerable. A man who would
mention a husband’s father thus irreverently,
could only wait for an Opportunity in order to
lampoon it wife’s mother. Jack is conse
quently suffering under the bann of the Fins
bury empire. This reminds me of an odd
focident that happened under my cogni
zance before I had a wife’s mother.—I
went one night into the Green-room of Dru-
ry-lane theatre. When young girls are cal
led upon to perform in London play houses,
it is customary for their mothers to come to
look after them, to adjust their dress, rub
their cheeks with a rouged hare’s foot, and
prevent viscounts from falling in love with
them. It so happened that five young girls
were wanted in the drama; the consequence
was that five fat black-bonneted mothers
blockaded the Green-room. * Did you ever
see any thing like it ?’ ejaculated Munden, in
an under tone ; * I’ll bring ray own mother
to-morrow night: I’ve as much right as they
have !’—Munden’s mother \
My uncle George dined with us yester
day se’nnight, and before dinner asked my
wife what she thought of the weather.
‘ Mamma thinks it cold for the time of
year,’ was the answer. .At dinner she was
asked bySir Anthony Andrews, whether she
would take red or white wine ; Mrs. Cum-
ming happened at the moment to be deep
in conversation with the clergyman of our
parish, who sat next to her, about the opera
of Proserpina, which the clerical gentleman
wished to see revived, adding * you remem
ber, madam, what a fine situation occurs in
the story when Proserpine invokes the aid
of Jove to punish her gloomy abducer.’ Mv
wife’s mother could not accuse herself of re
membering any thing about it. When Doc
tor Stubble had explained the story the old
lady shook her head, and wondered that a
deitv, who behaved in that way to his wife’s
mother, could be allowed to continue on his
throne. ‘It was in the infernal regions
said the doctor. ’ Pm glad of it, a brute !’
ejaculated Mrs. Cumming. During the
whole of this colloquy, Sir Anthony An
drews sat with his wine-glass in hi3 right
hand, waiting for my wife’s decision. The
poor girl—(sheis only thirty-four)—waited
for her mother’s fiat. White, my dear,’ said
the old lady,—and white it was.
I own I am puzzled to know what my wife
will do when my wife’s mother dies,which in
the course of nature she must do first. The
laws of this country prevent her from moun
ting the pile,like a Hindoo widow, ordescend-
ing into the grave, like Sinbad, the sailor.
But l will not anticipate so lamentable an
epoch. Two incidents more, and 1 have
done. We went last Wednesday, with my
uncle George and my wife’s mother, to Con
vent Garden theatre to see * Peter Wilkins,
or the Flying Indians,’ whom, by the way,
my wife’s mother mistook for defeated Bur
mese. Miss M* Glover and Miss J. Scott,
acted two flying Gowries, and were swinging
across the stage, when Mrs. Cumming
expressed a wish to go home. * No, no,
wait a little,* said my uncle, looking upward
•to the theatrical firmament. ‘ I’m quite un
easy about those two girls ; I hope they’ll
soon settle.’ Xast Sunday, Doctor Stubble
gave us an excellent sermon : the subject
was the fall of man; in which he descanted
eloquently upon the happiness of Adam in
Paradise. ‘ Alas!’ ejaculated I to myself, as
we walked homeward, * his happiness, even
there, must have been incomplete! His
wife had no mother.’
The difference between the Sexes.—Mr.
Dugald Stewart, in the third volume of his
Philosophy of the Human Mind, recently
published, discusses the difference between
the sexes; and he takes occasion to ex
press his adoption of 'the opinion long since
adopted by Plato, and maintained by the
most enfigh teued and judicious philosophers,
that there is no natural difference between
thesexesj, but in point of Strength When
the entire sexes are compared together, the
female is, doubtless, the inferior; but in in
dividuals, the woman has often tile advan
tage of the man.”
“ In this opinion I have no doubt that Plato
is in the right. The intellectual and moral
diftbrences between the sexes seem to me
to be entirely the result of education ; using
that word in its most extensive sense, to
comprehend not merely the instruction re
ceived from teachers, but the habits of mind
imposed by situation, or the physical organi
zation of the animal frame.
“ It must be remembered, too, that cer
tain intellectual and moral habits are the na^
tural and necessary consequences cf that .
difference in point of strength, which Plato of (h
allows tb distinguish the sexes. The form the
of the male is evidently much the better fit-
of exercise seems to be sufficient to preserve
the female in health. Hence the sedentary
habits early acquired by the other sex, and
that comparative timidity which results from
a want of famil iarity with those external in
juries to which the stronger sex is daily ex
posed. This timidity, it is to be observed,
by no means implies an impatience under
present suffering ; for the female, though
less couragous than the male, is commonly
more resigned and patient under severe af
fliction. The mental constitutions, in this
respect, of the sexes, are happily adapted to
the different provinces allotted to them in
life; the male being the natural protector
of the female in moments of danger and
sudden alarm ; the female destined to be
his comfort and support in seasons of sor
row and protracted suffering.
“ From the greater delicacy of theirframe,
and from the numerous ailments connected
with their sexual temoerament, combined
with their constant familiarity with distres
ses which are not their own, the sympathy
of women with the sufferings of others is
much more lively, and their promptitude to
administer relief, wherever it is possible,
is much more eager than in the generality
of men. To the truth of this remark every
day’s experience bears witness; and from
the testimony of travellers, it appears that
the observation extends to women in all the
different stages of society.
“ In consequence of the greater nervous
irritability of women, their muscular sys
tem seems to possess a greater degree of
that mobility by which the principle of svm
pathetic imitation operates. Hence their
proneness to hysteric affections, and to that
species of religious enthusiasm which
propagated by contagion. Hence also iheir
tendency to misery, and the niceness of
their tact with respect to the more delicate
features of character.”
To the different process of their educa
tion, and of their early habits, Mr. Stewart
imputes the inferiority ofithe fair sex to the
stronger, in a capacity for patient thought
ancEfor all those pursuits which require sy->
tematic mental attention. From their in
fancy, the minds of females are peculiarly
alive to sensible objects ; they are. there
fore, easily influenced by casual associa
tions, and hence their acknowledged supe
riority in their powers of conversation, and
in epistolary writing.
Eccentric Gander.—The following storv.
the truth of which we can vouch for, is not
only curious in itself, but evinces pretty for
cibly, that whimsicality and eccentricity are
not confined to the human species. Mr.
Whigham of Allanton, has a very large gan
der, which was hatched five or s»x years ago,
and which had scarcely attained the months
of majority, when he contracted a dislike
for his own species. Whether this arose
from disappointed love, or a disposition na
turally goose anthropical, might puzzle the
deepest naturalist to determine : but cer
tain it is that he feels so little pleasure in
the society of the fair, who have feathers on
their backs, that the race jvould speedily
become extinct, were all ganders as ungal-
lant as himself. , In 1823, there were two
pretty bay colts grazing in a field adioining
to Allanton, and to these he in time attach
ed himself so cordially, that he became their
companion night) and day. From this or
some other circuiipstauce, he retains, a strong
partiality to bay tjr browns, and will not as
sociate with a blgek horse. The colts al
luded to, were succeeded by others ; and
the gander, though he seemed sensible of,
and sorry for, the change, speedily ingr&ti
ated himself with his new friends. These
he attends in the paddock during the day,
follows them home at night, when the wea
ther is cold, and iif accidentally ^shut out of
the stable, patiently bivouacks/behind the
door, and is always ready to clan his wings
and go a-field early in the morning. When
in the park, his sole occupation seems to be,
to stand near the head of one of the colts,
carefully watching all its motions,and accom
modating his position to that of his friends,
by waddling when he walk‘d and flying when
herons. Young horses, when disturbed,
very easily break into a gallop, and as the
gander manages to keep so near the colt,
that he may be seen flying vigorously along
side of him, it is certainly strange that it
never occurred to him to take a ride. If the
mouth of the other, while collecting proven
der,should come too near his feet, he stretch
es forth his neck, elevates his wings, hisses
gently, and by other motions admonishes
him to keep at a proper distance. Though
geese graze as well askine, the bird in ques
tion is rarely seen nibbling a pile of grass,
and his chief dependence, we believe, is
placed on the stray pickles of corn he caters
in the stable. On one occasion, the young
horses at Allanton were removed to a field
at*some distance, and then the poor gander
had to dree a very dfeary period of widow
hood. If he could have spoken or sung, his
ditty would have been, “ I wander dowie a’
ray lane.” But When the colts returned—
that is, the bay oftes—he was seen hurrying
to meet them, half running, half filing, and
cackling forth his congratulations, to the
very topmost note of the gamut of joy. In
April last, we happened to be at Allanton,
and, as a matter of course, visited the biped
of whoso eccentric habits we heard so much.
A new scene then presented itself! In the
course of the day, a score or t wo of ca
pital highland bullocks had been let into the
field, and these the gander seemed to look
on with a jaundiced eye. By mere acci
dent one aoproached too near the favourite
ijlcoltj
4 P e
ted for bodily exertion, and a less measure quk
fn which was resented by a
laughable onset. The bill
le paironf horns, started back as
■pdd&fead stung him. Again,
however, he advanced to the charge, trasf
again assaulted and again retreated ; until
his brethren, perceiving what was going for
ward, joined in the melee, and very nearly
hemmed the gander in. Our* first impres
sion was thattho'biped would be tossed and
gored till not a pinion stuck together; but
in this we were mistaken. Each of the
bullocks was assailed m turn, to its no small
amazement, if noj dismay; but the assai
lant, maugre his great' courage, appeared to
be placed in a sad quandary, and did all he
could to rescue the colt from such unsuita
ble company, by biting his heels and nib
bling at his head. The docile animal at
length good naturedly yielded fa his wishes,
and the horned billigerents, on their part,
ratified the armistice by offering no further
molestation.—Dumfries Courier.
Courtship.—The most sentimental court
ship which we have ever hedrd or read of,
took place not long since within the circle
of our acquaintance. Louisa was the only
child of a geutleman, who, blessed with af
fluence had spared no pains to improve by a
liberal education, the graces which nature
had lavished upon his daughter. In short,
Louisa was an heiress; and, like all other
heiresses, had a numerous train of sui
tors.
“ Am on 2 the rest younj; William bowed,
But never talk’d of love.—”
He was a young man of inestimable worth
and talents, which Louisa was not the last
to discover, hut he possessed no small
share of that diffidence usually attendant on
true merit. Their eyes had long professed
a mutual flame before he could muster the
courage to declare his passion. Chance
threw in his way a golden opportunity. They
were left alone. After an awkward silence
of some minutes lie advanced, took her
hand :—‘ Louisa'—’ his voice faltered—he
could not utter another word : but his elo
quent countenance spoke the rest. Louisa
understood him, and, overwhelmed with
confusion, stammered out, “ Go ask my fa-
th er.’—Rural Repository.
We have received, (says the Democratic
Press,) what we regard as authentic ac
counts of the sudden deaths of five men yes
terday. by drinking cold water. ~ If such fa
tal consequences will not induce men to
forbear, we are quite sure no remarks of
ours would have any effect. f
[Well! another pajier has an account of
the sudden deaths of half a dozen men by
drinking rum, gin, and brandy. Now, what
is a poor fellow to quench his thirst with ?
Death is both in the hogshead and in the
well. Water kills us—brandy kills us also.
Each is a poison. However, as some poi
sons neutralize each other, the only way of
ffetting over the difficulty is by mixing bran
dy and water together. There never yet
was a Coroner’s verdict—“ Died of brandy
and water.] —JV*. Y. Enq.
“ They Say.”—“ They say” tells that
which is not true at least three quarters of the
time.—He is about the worst authority you
can produce to support the credibility pT
your statement.—Scarcely was there ever a
suspicious report in circulation, but this Mr.
They Say was the Author of it; and he al
ways escapes responsibility detection
because just living no where, he7*i$n never
he fouhd. Who said that Mr. E. the mer
chant was supposed to be in a fiiiling condi
tion? Why “ They say” so. On what au
thority do you affirm that neighbor F. has
been seen in bad company ? Why “ They
say” so. Is it a fact, that Miss G. is not so
circumspect and chaste as she should be ?
Why “ They say” so—Plague on this Mr.
They say: He is half brother to that Mr.
Nobody who always does all the mischief,
and lives no where, but in the inventive brain
of those who, undeserving respect them
selves, are desirous to put down others to
their own level. We always suspect the
truth of a report which comes from the au
thority of “ They Say.”
Anecdote. —Where several were in com
pany in this city the other day, one of the
company said that “ Jackson was a horse
thief.” By J- s ! (said a warm hearted
son of Erin, who was standing by) then we’II
put him in the Penitentiary at Washington,
for four years, and let Adams out.”—BalL
Republican. '
Military Anecdote.—Disobedience to or
ders often happens in military matters. Even
Biucher did that unmilitary thing. At the
bloody battle of Leipsic, Schwartzenburg,
the Command ar in Chief of the Allied for
ces, sent an order to old Biucher to cannon
ade Leipsic. When the order was commu
nicated, the veteran took a tremendo is pinch
of snuff, muttered a German oath, and ex
claimed.—“ What l throw hot shot in a city
where my best friends live, and where I have
spent so many happy hours—no—no—
“ Soldiers—forward—follow your general.”
He instantly resolved to storm, not burn,
down the «ity. In ten minutes the city was
carried by the impetuosity of the attack and
the magnificent buildings and inhabitants
were preserved. The nickname ojf the Mar
shall was General Forward, all over Eu
rope.. »qL: s
That fine sensibility on
and social virtues are foun
sand avenues to pain. We
ery day. Human lifb is soft
ble events, that either for <3
fellow-creatures we find con
for mourning; and thus that
which is the very essence of virtu
ed at the hard head of butes to make us wretched.
ic latter, though '.furnished
Friendship may have its
but sensibility must support i
Hr