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FOETET.
From the Monthly Magazine.
THE.FAR HOME.
I look’d on the bright and burning sun,
. When he set beneath the wave,
And red clouds o’er the dark earth hung
Like banners o’er a grave:
Tii#i ocean in its farthest mound,
Had a wild and fiery hue,
And l thought I heard a living sound
From lands I might not view.
It spoke not to my inward thought,
As if on land or sek,
Thero lay the home my heart had sought,
Or where its rest could be;
And I felt as if their hopes were gone,
That sooth’d my heart before;
When I thought the sense of wrong
Might be lost on some far shore.
I watch’d till the stare of evening shone
In the blue vault of the sky—
But I felt my spirit dark and lone,
’Mid their infinity:
For in that vast and glorious shrine
Where a thousand bright worlds hung,
Could 1 single out that world of mine
To wliich my thoughts bad. clung ?
I turn’d me bn the earth again—
To a lone and Silent deh, " ' „ - '*
Where a fountain hash’d the deepless brain,
And its gushing waters fell: ,
A quiet grave was at my feet,
Where one I had cherish’d slept;
And the calm of that resting place was sweet
As the thoughts of him I wept.
And wben then found my heart its home?
’Mid the bright isles of the main ?
Or, was it where whate’er may roam,
Hath now no mark of pain ?
Oh!’ wa3 it not in that quiet,place
Where the suffering heart might see,
The repose of that which bore the trace
j Cjf its own mortality ?
I THE INVOCATION,
1 BY MRS. HEMANS.
Answer me, bummg\stars of night!
'yhere is the spirit gone
.That pass’d the reach of human sight
, Even as a breeze hath flown ?
And the Stars answered me—■** Wo roll
In light and power on high;
But of the never-dying soul.
Ask things that cannot die.”
chainlcss Wind,
ndcrerfree;
place can’st find, .
and sea? '
ur’d in reply—
4 I hive cross’d,
tiks .and billows high,
^fYiat thou hast lost.”
ar/at gorgeously-repose
iwWWtiiSnd the setting sun;
V -Aafcworl hava yoa homo for those
•fl Whose earthly race has run ?
The blight clouds answer’d—We depart;,
We vanish from the sky—
Ask what is deathless in thy heart,
For that which cannot die 1”
, Speak then, thou Voice of God within,
Thou of the deep lo w tone t
Answer me through life’s restless din,
Where is the spirit flown?
And the Voice answered—“Be thou still!
Enough to know is given; •
Clouds, Winds, and Stars their task fulfil,
. Thau is, to trust in Heaven!”
The following lines are from.the pen of Edward
Morton. The Lady to whom he was early attached
was married to another: Morton was present at the
wedding, and was never seen to smile afterwards.
The lady it is 3aid was unhappy in her union, and
did not survive many years after it. Morton died
at Corfu—a portrait oi the lady was found in his
port-folio, wrapped up in these lines.
I saw thee wedded—thou didst go
Within the sacred aisle,
Thy young cheek in a blushing glow,
Betwixt a tear and smile.
. Thy heart was glad in maiden glee,
But he it lov’d so fervently
Was faithless all the while,
lhate him for the vow he spoke—
I hate him for the vow he broke.
I hid the love that could not die— 2
Its doubts and hopes and fears,
And buried all my misery
In secrecy and tears:
And days pass’d on, and thon didst prove,
The pangs of unrequited love,
E’en in thy early years:
And thou didst die,'so fair and good,
In silence and in solitude!
Whilst thou wert living, 1 did hide
Affection’s secret pains;
I’d not have shock’d thy modest pride
For all the world contains.
But thou hast .perish’d; and the fire
That, often check’d, could not expire,
Again, unbidden, reigns.—
It is no crime to speak my vow,
For ah 1 thou canst not hear it now.
Thou sleep’st, beneath thy lowly stoDe,
That dark and dreamless sleep;
And he, thy lov’d and chosen one,
Why gees he not to weep?
He .does not kneel .where l have knelt,
He cannot feel what I have felt—
The anguish still and deep,
The painful thoughts of what has been,
The canker-worm that is not seen.
But I, as o’er the dark blue wave
* Unconsciously 1 glide,
My thoughts are bov’ring o’er thy grave,
My soul is by thy side.
There is ono voice that wails thee yet—
One heart that never can forget
The visions that have died;
And i
Adout
sh-hs
jn a path that showed
called ’legitimacy ’ to so
Extract from Sir Walter Scott’s
EMPEROR NAPOL
The external appearance of
was not imposing at the first glance, his sta
ture being only five feet six inches English.
His person, thin in youth, and somewhat
corpulent in age, was rather delicate than
robust in outward appearance, but cast in
the mould most capable of enduring priva
tion and fatigue. He rode ungracefully,
and without the command of his horse,
which distinguishes a perfect cavalier, so
that he showed to disadvantage ’when riding
beside such a horseman as Murat. But he
was fearless, sat firm in his seat, rode with
rapidity, and wa3 capable of enduring the
exercise for a longer time than most men.
We have already mentioned his indifference
to the quality of his food, and his power of
enduring abstinence. A morsel of food and
a flask of Wine hung at his saddle bow used
in ids earlier campaigns, to support him for
days. In his latter wars, he used a car
riage more frequently; not, as has been
surmised, from any particular illness, but
from feeling in a frame so constantly in ex
ercise, the premature effects of age.
The countenance of Napoleon is familiar
to almost every one from description, and
from the portraits which arc found every
where. The dark-brown hair bore little
marks of the attentions of the toilette. The
shape of the countenance approached more
than is usual in the human race, to a square.
His eyes were gray, and full of expression;
the pupils rather large, and the eyebrows
not/4 T ery strongly marked. The brow and
upper ^part of the countenance were rather
of a stern character. His nose and mouth
were beautifully formed. The upper lip
was very short. The teeth were indifferent,
but were little shown in speaking. His
smile possessed uncommon sweetness, and
is stated to have been irresistible. The
complexion was a clear olive, otherwise in
general colourless. The prevailing cha
racter of his countenance was grave, even
to melancholy, but without any signs of se
verity or violence. After death, the pla
cidity and dignity of expression which con
tinued to occupy the features, rendered
them eminently beautiful, and the admira
tion of all who looked on them.
Such was Napoleon’s exterior. His per
sonal and private character was decidedly
amiable, excepting in one particular. His
temper, when he received, or thought he
received provocation, especially if of a per
sonal character, was warm and vindictive.
He was, however, placable in the case even
of his enemies, providing that they submit
ted to his mercy; but he bad not that spe
cies of generosity which respects the sin
cerity of a manly and fair opponent. On
the other hand, no one was a more liberal
rewarder of the attachment of his friends.
He was an excellent husband, a kind rela
tion, and, unless when State policy inter
vened, a most affectionate brother. - ^gene
ral Gourgaud, whose communications^werc
not in every case to Napoleon’s advantage,
states him to have been the best of masters,
labouring to assist all bis domestics when
ever it lay in his power, giving them the
highest credit for such talents as they actu
ally possessed, and imputing, in some in
stances, good qualities to such as had them
not.-r? There was gentleness, and even sen
ility in his character. He was affected
when he rode over the fields of battle which
ris ambition had strewed with the dead and
the dying, seemed not only desirous to re
lieve the victims, issuing for that purpose
directions which too often were not, and
could not be obeyed, but subject to the in
fluence of that more acute and imaginative
species of sympathy which is termed sensi
bility. He mentions a circumstance which
indicates a deep sense of feeling. As he
passed over a field of battle in Italy, he saw
houseless dog lying on the body of bis
slain master. The creature came towards
them, then returned to the dead body,
moaned over it pitifully, and seemed to ask
their assistance.—“ Whether it were the
feeling of the moment,” continued Napo
leon, •* the scene, the hour, or the circum
stance itself, I was never so deeply affected
by any thing which I have seen upon a field
of battle. That man, I thought, has per
haps had a house, friends, comrades, and
here he lies deserted by every one but his
dog. How mysterious are the impressions
to which we are subject! I was in the ha
bit, without emotion, of ordering battles
which must decide the fate of a campaign,
and could look with a dry eye on the exe
cution of manoeuvres which must be attend
ed with much loss; and here I was moved
nay, painfully affected, by the cries and the
grief of a dog. It is certain that at that
moment I would have been more accessible
to a suppliant enemy, and could better un
derstand the conduct of Achilles in restoring
Honn
-
1; as we commenced, were rather those of the \ and Rachambeau’s armies had united, and
sovereign and politician than of the mdivi-, were pressing towards Virginia; feat de
dual.' Wisely it is written, that if we say J Barns, with seven sail of the line, had left
we have no sin we deceive ourselves and the j Rhode Island, to unite with de Grasse ; that
truth is not in us. It was the inordinate the British fleet of 25 sail of the line, had
force of ambition which made him the left New York with an army of 10,000 men
scourge of Europe; it was his efforts to dis-1 on their way to the Chesapeake to relieve
guise that selfish principle, that made him i Cornwallis; that a reinforcement of ships
combine fraud with force; and establish a j were on their way to New York from Eng-
rcgular system for deceiving those whom land. Should they arrive in time it would
he could not subdue. Had his natural dis- j place the respective fleets on a balance, but
position been coldly cruel, like that of Oc- 1 de Grasse was in possession of the ground
iavius, or had he given way to the warmthj between the English fleet and army. In
of his temper, like other despots, his pri- ! this interesting crisis, on which the fate of a
vate history, as well as that of his cam
paigns, must have been written in letters of
blood. If, instead of asserting that he ne
ver committed a crime, he had limited his
self-eulogy to asserting that in attaining and
wielding supreme power, he had resisted
young empire was in some measure depend
ing, and where so many chances hung in
dreaded poise, our anxiety was excessive,
and our hopes and fears predominated in
quick succession. We weighed probabili
ties, balanced possible vicissitudes,dissected
the temptation to commit many, he could the best maps, finally resulting in a dishear-
not have been contradicted : and this is no
spiall praise.
His system of government was false in
the extreme. It comprehended the slavery
of France, and the subjugation of the world.
But to the former he did much to requite
them for the jewel of which he robbed
them. He gave them a.regular government,
schools, institutions, courts of justice, and
code of laws. In Italy, hs rule was equal
ly splendid and beneficial. The good ef
fects which arose to other countries from
tening foreboding, that the English fleet
would intercept de Barras at the Capes of
Virginia, thus gain a superiority, and with
their wonted bravery and nautical skill, ur
ged by despair, dash into the bay, close
with and destroy the French fleet; land
their army, and break up Washington’s
quarters. Thus our unhappy country would
again bleed at every vein,and the war be com
menced de novo with fresh vigor, on the
part of our implacable enemy.
As Franklin was the primary cause of
his reign and character, begin also to be feiitjlproducing this bold enterprise, by his great
ae visions ui&i nave cueu ;
i aye thy form is buried there,
jubt, an anguish, a despair!
[It will be many years before notices like the en
suing off he exalted person to whom they relate, will
lose their interest; and even a slight variation of the
language wfllifor a long time serve to give “the
thrice told tale '* a new attraction.-—Tho moral re
flection to which it gives rise, of how little value or
truth can be attached to the representations of a
character made by those interestedly opposed to
them, is also important and useful.—A few years
since, and the invention of the English was racked
j to present his character in a rep uleive shapejr—and
now one of their most reputable writers is recording
it for posterity, with we believe still a lack of jus
tice, as little short of perfectly amiable and virtuous.
The fact is, they could not endure tlio prospect of
ierent self-raised greatness, conducting a nation
r $i '
though unquestionably they were not of the
kind which he intended to produce. His
invasions tending to reconcile the discords
which existed in many states between fee
governor and the governed, by teaching
them to unite together against a common
enemy, have tended to loosen the feudal
yoke, enlightened the mind both of prince
and people, and led to many admirable re
sults, which will not be less durably advan
tageous, that they have arisen and are aris
ing slowly, and without contest.
In bidding adieu to the subject of Napo
leon, we are called upon to observe that he
was a man tried io the two extremities of the
most exalted power and the most ineffable
calamity ; and if he occasionally appeared
presumptuous when surrounded by the arm
ed force of half a world, or unreasonably
querulous when, imprisoned within the nar
row limits of St. Helena, it is scarce within
the capacity of those whose steps have nev
er led them beyond the middle path of life,
to estimate either the strength of the temp
tations to which he yielded, or the force of
mind which he opposed to those which he
was able to resist.
From the Journal of a young American, then
travelling in Europe, of Nov. 19, 1782
Immediately after my visit to Rousseau’s
tomb, at Vide de Park, in Picardy, I return
ed to Paris, and this day dined and spent
the evening with the immortal Franklin at
Passy. Arriving at an early hour, I discov
ered the Philosopher in a distant room read
ing, in the exact position he is represented
in an excellent engraving, his left arm res
ting on a table and his chin on his right
hand thumb. I was soon conducted to him
and was cordially received, as usual. From
a long habit of mixing with courtiers and
men. of eminence, as well in America as in
Europe, he possesses an urbanity of-man
ners in connection with his venerable locks
suspended over his shoulders, and his per
sonal dignity, which commands reverence
and respect; and yet so natural and fascin
ating is his deportment, that I always find
myself perfectly at ease in his presence.
Although he loves adulation, he woos it, and
hugs it to his heart in a manner unperceiy-
ed, and therefore diminishes naught from
his sterling merit Not so with the vain
influence at this court, seconded by our
steady advocate and brave defender, the po
pular Lafayette, in both countries, it can be
easily perceived how strong must have been
his excitement in our alternate views of pro
bable results. At times his philosophy seem
ed to abandon him in gloomy despondency,
but on turning the scales in another direc
tion, his hopes would flash into a conviction
of a complete success. Although in his
76th year, yet his whole machiney appeared
in a state of elasticity, and in active play, so
much was he exhilarated while hope prepon
derated. Precisely at eleven o’clock, Dr.
Bancroft and myself returned to Paris in
gloomy despondency, sighing over the mise
ries of our bleeding country. At the dawn
of the ensuing morning a tremendous rap
ping aroused me from restless slumbers;
but, gracious God, how was 1 delighted and
astonished in receiving the following circu
lar from Dr. Franklin, with his congratula
tion in French, copied with a copying ma
chine, invented by the ingenius Watt, of
Birmingham, the same man who has lately
invented a steam engine, so much talked of.
TRANSLATION.
Copy of a letter from the Compte de Ver-
gennes, Prime Minister of France, to Dr.
Franklin, dated Versailles, 19th Nov. 1781,
11 o’clock at night, (the precise moment we
quit his house, and exactly one month from
the day of capitulation.)
Sir : I cannot better express my gratitude
for the news you often communicate to me,
than in making you acquainted that the
Duke de Lauzin arrived this evening with
the agreeable news that the combined ar
mies of France and America, have forced
Gen. Cornwallis to capitulate. The Eng
lish garrison came out'from Yorktown the
19th of October, with honors of war, and
laid down their arms as prisoners. About
6000 troops, 1800 sailors, 22 stand of co
lors, and 170 pieces of cannon, 75 of which
are brass j are the trophies which signalize
this victory. Besides, a ship of 50 guns,
which was burnt, also a frigate and a great
number of transports.
J’ail 1’honneur d’etre, &c.
DE VERGENNES.
A son Excellence le Dr. Franklin, &c.
The same dsfy I waited on his Excellency
with many Americans and French, to offer
our mutual congratulations—he appeared in
an ecstacy of joy, observing “ there is no
losophers than manhood. “ Love,” too, it
been observed wisely, “ is always near
er allied to melancholy than to jollity^r
th.” The instances recorded of the jtrtf-
tfand most exalted passion are amorf'g
the sedate temperaments. The souls that
feed upon themselves, that keep back from
the multitude, that cannot put up with com
mon place, but aspires to idealities and crea
tions of their own ; these have generally the
earliest, tho roost durable, and the deepest
impressions from love.
The Bachelor’s Will.—I, Loungeabout
Longdelay, being sound both in body and
mind, but apprehensive that I shall soon
quit this forlorn state ,of celibacy, for the
indulgence of a kind virtuous helpmate, do
make and ordain this nly last will and testa
ment.—Imprimus.—I give and bequeath to
my good friend, Mr. W. .M. all the manor
of Longdelay, consisting of several
farms and messuages, caJled and known by
the name of Doubts, Fears, Bashfulness,
Irresolution, Uncertainty, Fickleness, Ob
stinacy &c. being for the most part waste
and barren ground, and much overgrown
with briars, and thistles ; but capable by
proper management, of cultivation and im
provement.
Item.—I give and bequeath unto my good
friend, Mr. J. A. my dwelling house and
cottage, called by the name of Vain Hopes,
situate, lying, and being in High street, in
the county of Imagination ; rising to the
height of seven stories. Having a fair gar
den and a prospect before it, and a large
number of windows in the front, but without
any outlet behind; nor having any conve
nience of social nature ; to have and to
d the said dwelling-house unto the day
of marriage.
Item.—I give and bequeath unto my good
friend, Mr. W. B. all my woodland, called
and known by the name of Ambiguity;
which is well planted with puns, conundrums,
quirks, and brakes, and- thickets of dark
unintelligible incomprehensibilities.
And lastly, I give and bequeath all the
rest of my bachelor goods and effects, con
sisting of large treasure of whims, fancies,
megrims, freaks, reveries, projects,schemes
and designs, to my aforesaid good friend,
Mr. J. A. whom l constitute and appoint
sole executor of this my last will and testa
ment, only desiring that he would put a fan
cy or two into the hands of all old bache
lors, that they may follow me into the bles
sed land of matrimony.
boaster, trumpeting his own fame above all
the fraudulent men who float upon borrow-. v ^ WH I
ed plumes. Such men are always detected;! parallel in history of two entire armies be
soon sink into contempt, and hold a short ing taken from the same enemy in anyone
run with posterity. But the name of Frank
lin will freshen with posterity, and increase
in fame, through a long line of generations,
while America shall bear a name. To re
sume—-after detailing the traitorous conver
sation of Silas Dean, at Brussels, where he
war.”
The American character now rose to an
enviable height. The joy of all classes of
people was excessive, and Franklin adored
Paris was brilliantly illuminated three sue
cessive nights, on this glorious occasion
Too Much Truth.—If you see a man and
woman, with little or no occasion, often find
ing fault, and correcting one another in com
pany, you may be sure they are man and wife. 1
If you see a gentleman and lady in the
same coach in profound silence, the one
looking out at one side, the other at (he oth
er side, never imagine they mean any harm
to one another; they are already honestly
married.
If you see a lady accidentally let fall a
glove or handkerchief# and a gentleman that
is next to, her kindly telling her of it, that
she may gather it up, they are man and'wife.
If you see a lady whose beauty and merit
attract the eyes of all the company, except
a certain gentleman^ who speaks to her in a
rough accent, not fat .all affected by her
charms, you may be surest is her husband-
If you see a gentleman' that is courteous,
and obliging, and good-natured to every bo
dy, except a certain female who dives under
the same roof with him, to whom hp is un
reasonably cross and ill-natured, depend up
on it that female is his wife.
If you see a male and female, continually
jarring, checking and thwarting each other,
yet under the kindest terms and appellations
imaginable, as dear, &c. they are man and
wife.
vegetates, and is buried in forgetfulness and j which settled our controversy with England
contempt, he asked me if I knew he was a j definitively. On my return to Nantes via
musician, and then conducted me across the i Orleans, travelling for 150 mdes on the
room to an instrument of his own invention
fixed as a harpsichord.. On my intimating
a wish to see him perform, he immediately
placed himself before it with his habitual
condescension, touching theend$ of his fin
gers on a moistened piece of sponge, and
commenced playing, with his right foot
bearing upon a treadle fixed in the man
ner of a spinning wheel, which turaed-a set
of musical glasses, presenting their edges in
perpendicular positions, in the shape of sau
cers graduated of different sizes, so as to
produce all the requisite tones. He touch
ed the edges with the ends of his fingers,
playing a Scotch pastoral tune, in sweet
The anecdote at once shows that Napoleon
possessed a heart amenable to humane feel
ings, and that they were usually in total sub
jection to the stern precepts of military stoi
cism. It was his common and expressive
phrase, that the heart of a politician should
bo in his head, but his feelings sometimes
surprised him in a gentler mood.
From one end of Napoleon’s works to
the other, he has scarcely allowed himself
to be guilty of a single fault, or a single
folly, excepting of that kind which, arising
from an over confidence-and generosity,
etly claim as merits, while they
e them up as matters of censure.
Hiis own word we must believe
n a faultless and impeccable
one that told his own story
'gard to truth and candour,
reputation was concerned.
ofjBonaparte, we conclude
banks of the Loire, the most delightful
country in Europe, I found all the cities on
my way in a blaze of illumination, and
Nantes Jin the midst of it on my arrival.—Al.
Daily Advertiser.
First Love.—Talk of first love as the
.world ma>, we never experience in a second
any thing half so sweet. The object belo
ved the second time may be more amiable ;
may be more deserving affection, but in the
first there is a novelty of circumstance and
feeling an untasted cup of joy, which in a
repetition falls short of its original flavor.
We are in a second affection, going over a
the body of ‘Hector to the fears of Priam.” delicate melody, which thrilled to my very! path already trodden; in the first we ex
soul. Besides, the novel spectacle was
highly gratifying to my heightened Ameri
can pride, to contemplate a native son of my
native state, a-distinguished philosopher and ^tng again exhaled,
statesman, in his 76th year, exhibiting on
an instrument of his own invention, which
he has named Harmonica. In the evening
we were joined by the celebrated Dr. Ban
croft, also a native of Massachusetts; a dis
tinguished chemist and politician ; a sound
whig, although a resident in London. It is
supposed he is an agent, sub rosa, of the
British ministry, feeling out the road to
peace.. - v •> ;.■ .* ;.v, * /' i--, '■
Our conversation turned principally on
the interesting subject of the grand military
combination of America and France to sub
due the army of Cornwaliis, in.
last information up to that even
de Grasse had entered the
with 24 sail of the.line ; that!
pnia. Our
[g)was, that
Jheasapeake
Washington’s
Ta
plore a new track covered with wild roses
and spontaneous luxuriance, feat diffuses
pdours which lose of theitfreshness on be-
We- always know we
are in love the second time, from our for
mer experience. The first time we are no
vices, and receive eur maiden impressions
gilded by brighter hopes, and hallowed by a
sanctity that casts almost a religious holi
ness over them. Repetition of love grows
more and more sensual; it is iff JUjvth’s
first affection only that a love Idee that of an
gels is exchanged ; etheriw, unsfeiried,
lucid with heavenly purity. First love is
like youth, virtuous, full of generous impul
ses and exalted feelings. In successive visita
tion it becomes corrupted, as in advanced
years we get more ana more the creatures
of circumstance, interest and the w&rld’s
custom. Youth is infinitely nearer tho_ op
timum contemplated by i
Ptc,
A short time ago a cat came into the
shop of a respectable grocer in St. Frahcis
Xavier st. and perching upon his counter,
looked at him as much as tS’ say “ are you
wanting a cat.” The shopkeeper, who was
rather annoyed with rats, accepted the offer,
and puss was speedily installed in all the
honours of guardian of the back yard and
shop. One day last week she came into
the store dragging by one tail fiVe live rats,
and when she had got them into the middle
of the floor, she set upon them and killed
them at her leisure. * Not the least surpris
ing part of the business is that the captive
quadrupeds were all fastened together by
the tails with straw so firmly that, although*
when tho cat released them on the shop
floor, they pulled with all their might, but
but were not able to extricate themselves;
This has been told us by the shopkeeper
himself.—English paper.
Parliamentary Pun.—One, sometimes
hears a good thing said in the Gallery,‘as
well as iff the body of the House of Com
mons.—While Mr. Whitmore and Sir F.
Burdett were conversing upon the difficulty
of getting competent Members to inquire
into the Water Companies, a Gallery Mem
ber humourously observed—** Why, you
have only two Commoners iff your whole
body fit for this water task, namely—Foun
tain Wilson, and Spring Rice.
Anecdote of Dr. Baillie.—1
ted physician, (not more famed \
cal skill, than for his strong, cor
mode of displaying it,) being called in
tend Frederick Reynolds during a n<
complaint,—the dramatist (anxious to as
certain fe4 ta»S£ of his disease) said,
“ Pray, doctor, doyou not think 1 write too
much for my constitution ?” “ No,” replied
Bailiie: t: but you do for your reputation.”
Sheridan, on being told of this blunt opinion,
remarked, “ For this wholesome advice,
both towards patient and public, he hoped
Reynolds offered a double fee.”
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