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S?A : mn ■BP- • gp As for corded Sjcan POETP.T. The following neat and pathetic effusion is taken from the London New Monthly Magazine, (presumed by the initials t<> be from the pen of the gifted Mrs. IIema*s.) It exhibits a noble instance of female heroism, which you will please insert in your valuable paper. The Baron Van der Wart was accused, though it is believed unjustly, of bei ' the Emperor Albert. He was \ ’ an accomplice in the assassination of tlie Emperor bound alive on the wheel—lits wife, Gertrude, attend ed him throughout his last agonizing moments with the most heroic fidelity. Iler own suflerings, and those of her unfortunate husband, are most affecting- ly described in a letter which she afterwards address ed to a female friend, and which was published some years ago at Haarlem, in a book entitled “ Gertrude Van der Wart, or Fidelity unto Death.—JVaf. Int. GERTRUDE. Her hands were clasp’d, her dark eyes raised, The breeze threw back her hair; Up to the fearful wheel she gazed, J All that she loved was there. Jr The night was round her clear and cold, The holy heaven above; Its pale stars watching to behold The night of earthly love. ” And bid me not depart,” she cried, “ My Rudolph! say not so! This is no time to quit thy side, Peace, peace! I cannot go. Hath the world ought for me to fear When death is on thy brow ? The world! what means if’—mine is Here— I will not leave thee now'. “I have been with thee in thine hour Of glory and of bliss, Doubt not its memory’s living power To strengthen me through this! And thou mine honour’d love and true, Bear oil, bear nobly on ! We have the blessed Heaven in view', Whose rest shall soon be won!” And were not these high words to flow From woman’s breaking heart? Through all that night of bitterest woe She !>ore her lofty part: But oh! with such a freezing eye, Wit!ysuch a curdling cheek— Love, love! of mortal agony, jrhout only tkau should’st speak. The winds rose high—but with them rose Her v oicc that he might hear ; Perchance that dark hour brought repose To happy bosoms near, Whilst she sate striving with despair Besides his tortured form, And pouring her deep soul in prayer Forth on the rushing storm. She wiped the death damps from his brow, With her pale hands ami soft, Whose touch upon the lute chords low Had still’cfthis heart so oft. She spread Iyer mantle o’er his breast, She/bathed his lips with dew, Aryjgon his cheek such kisses press’d, As joy and hope ne’er knew. h! lovely are ye, love and faith, Enduring to the last! She had her meed—one smile in death— And his worn spirit pass’d. While, even as o’er a martyr’s grave, She knelt on that sad spot, And weeping, blessed the God who gave Strength to forsake it not! F. H. FROM THE UNITED STATES LITERARY GAZETTE. THE POOR SCHOLAR. 1 saw him starting in his new career; The hue of health was on his cheek—his eye Flashed with the eye of genius, while no fear Cast its dark cloud o’er his aspirings high. And o’er his brow, in fluttering light and shade A thousand bright and glorious fancies played. And he did seem like one who lightly deemed Of chance and peril that encircle fame— One who, wherever the wave-jewel gleamed, Would urge right on with ardour nought could tame; t, Ay, one who loved it better, that it lay Where the vexed ocean flung it9 troubled spray. Like a young eagle on the mountain height, Flaming the vigorous wing to fly, he stood Fearless, though lonely. Beautiful and bright, Long sanctioned practice among matter of fact novelists, demands a personal des cription of those characters therewith the writer chooseth to adorn his tale, the Colonel, his demise is alrea.d; —and no further interest in what be supposed to engage the present g< tion. The heroine herself, as ha‘h before been remarked,being wholly indiscribable, is abandoned to the dreams of fancy. But there was a triumvirate of responsible spinsters, with whom the world longeth to become ac quainted—to wit, in chronological gradation Miss Experience, Miss Waitstill, and Miss Silence, daughters of the once lale Faith ful Potts, Esquire, and Deliverance his wife. The eldest was a prim; sharpnosed, figetty antique, who took much pains and some snuff; the next a comfortable round faced/solid body, with a pleasant temper, and good appetite ; the third a dried poppy, wrinkled, soporifick,taciturn, and forbidding. Such were the remnants of an ancient race —the ultimate fragments of the Pottses. Hard by their family residence, lived the Rev. Jesharon Snarltext, atough, long-limb ed, gaunt bachelor, of two score years and upwards. This gentleman, by reason of numerous accidental calls, and divers vo luntary counsels in domestic matters, had succeeded in fascinating nearly all the old ladies in the parish. To this charming fa culty he added great literary taste—serving up his homilies to the highest gratification of his auditory ; being graciously assisted thereunto by certain devout and learned di vines, whose accommodating follios and quartos performed wonders simil; r to that which the angel wrought upon the beast of Balaam. Moreover, his reverence religious ly remembered many rare scriptural injunc tions, considering himself worse than any infidel, should he neglect making provision for his own bodily comfort; and deeming it above all things prudent, to make to himself friends of the mammon of unrighteousness. Moved by considerations so weighty, he had long gloated askant upon the person and supposed chatties of Miss Silence Potts— which she nothing loath^ierccived with all due quietude and complacency. But, when this project had nearly reached its contem plated crisis, parson Snarltext, in conversa tion one day with Deacon Adonijah Pitcher, grand-uncle of the celebrated Mary Pitcher ascertained, to his unspeakable horror, that the whole Potts estate was entailed upon Miss Admirable. The Deacon, an honest, substantial, straight forward yeo man, unconscious of the terrible blow al ready inflicted by this disclosure, proceed ed to descant largely upon the charms, both inherent and acquired, of th ; e young heiress —finishing his eulogium with a vehement hope that she might never become the prey of a fortune-hunter, nor marry for aught but love. The astounded clergyman, seized with a fit of rumination, stared through his spectacles and went his way Deacon Pitchers’s seventh son, Rejoice Hardy, a robust swain of two-and-twenty, had some months fostered a predilection to wards young Miss Potts. The sentiment was reciprocal ;—though no one, as yet, but aunt Waitsti*!, possessed the momen tous secret: and in what manner she be came its repository, is not material to relate. That she did obtain it is beyond a doubt —yet, it hath become a matter of history, that she kept it for a whole wee k. And why ? Because Rejoice, in her opinion^ was a very proper, fair-spoken youngster ; and an earlier developement might have retard ed that union which she hoped to see ac complished. The parson’s exclusive atten tions to Miss Silence h(jd ceased, and Miss Experience was busily plotting a match be- aunt Waity’s 1 mented eighteen on their possession of un- . and I’ll fetch the parson in a rivalled worth and exalted genjfis although Jiffy”—and away he sped, while Miss Wait-(to confess the truth, I knew as little about still unravelled the whole matter. In a few! the ^matter as the man in the inoon. Fifty minutes, the stout youngster re-appeared, times I have sworn that there is nothing in dragging in his ^reverence, wrapped in a- the world equal to a light blue eye, and fifty mazejnent and a Jjomespun sheet; the lat- times I have sworn that nought in nature can ter happening to fe just withdrawn from the compare with a black eye ; I have praised neighbouring hedge, and marked at one cor-] bright eyes for the sunny radiance of joy ner, F. D. P. “ This young lady has need that flooded every thing on which they fell; of protector against ghosts,” said Miss Wait- and I have praised dim eyes, for the moon- still, addressing the clerical spectre. “ And light melancholy that shone in their humid if thee don’t marry us right away,” added Rejoice, “ i’U wallop thee for a counter- fit wizard.” The saint was forced to com ply, and rolled up his eyes as he ejaculated. The——the devil]” He glance. I have vowed sometimes, the cheek from whose rich bloom the rose might de rive a fresh charm, was a thing that I de votedly worshipped ; and at other times, I have sneered at the Vermillion cheek, and turned ou his heel, and has not since been idolized the snowy paleness of sensibility heard of. There followed festivities and whose tears had been so often shed for the merrymakings without number at the vari- troubles of life, that they had actually wash- ous dwellings of the Pitchers and the Pott-1 ed all the red colour from the face. I have ses. But what signifies it? It is a melancho- praised high foreheads for their calmness, ly fact, that alf the actors in these scenes, and low foreheads for their passion. I have even the youngest and most hale, have been praised raven hair, auburn hair, chesnut dead and buried more than fifty years. I hair, and red hair, and to my ineffable horror, — ' I once discovered that I had been eulogizing Count Vitcleschi.—There was living in the ambrozial curls of a lady who wore a 17S6, at Brescia, Count Viteleschi, a most I wig. I have lauded Grecian noses, Roman singular man, and whose energy seemed to I noses, while noses, and red noses : dimpled belong to the middle ages. A|1 that I have chins, double chins, and peaked chins ; heard of him announced him to be a charac- straight eyebrows and arched eyebrows, ter similar to that of Castruccio Castracani. j The consequence of all thi9 has been, that As he was only a private individual, his cha- I have lost ray character for consistency, acter showed itself in dissipating his fortune not only in the estimation of others, but in the most extraordinary way, committing I also in my own. I have had the reputation a thousand follies to please the woman that I of being in love a hundred and ninety-five he loved, and killing his rivals.—As he was times, though I conscientiously affirm that I one day walking with his mistress, a man I have not, in reality, been in love with more happened to look at her: “ Cast down your than sixty-seven different persons and never eyes,” cried Viteleschi; the man continuing j with more than half a dozen at once. All to look at her, Viteleschi shot him on the my flights of fancy have been construed spot. Adventures of this kind were looked into serious declarations of passion. I have upon but as peccadilloes in a rich patrician— narrowly escaped ten suits for breach of but Viteleschi having killed a ‘distant rela- promise, in which the only witnesses against tion of the noble Venetian family of Braga- me would have been Albums, and an un din, was arrested and thrown into the famous poetical jury would have infallibly convicted prison at Venice, near the ponte dei sospiri. me.—I have been called a perjured swain, Viteleschi, who was a very handsome man, a breaker of vows, a hypocritical pretender, and not devoid of eloquence, set about se- an unfeeling wretch, and (horresco referens!) during the jailor’s 1 wife* The jailor, sus-|a male flirt! peering the intrigue’,-loaded him with irons. Viteleschi, thodgV >9 solitary confinement Sir Jonah Barrington's Personal Sketches in chains, and without money, soon succeed- j of his own times.—“ In the year 1S0Q, a la- ed in interesting his persecutor, though a I borer, dwelling near the town of Airy, coun jailor and jealous! This man used to pass ty Kildare; (where some of my famdy still two hours every day with his prisoner. On | reside) was walking with his comrade up the one occasion, Viteleschi said to him “ What torments me most is that whilst I banks of the Barrow to the farm of a Mr. Richardson, on whose meadow they were for disposing of children who are so unfor tunate as to find their way into this cold hearted world without father or mother. An amusing case occurred a few weeks since, which we will state, without, however, giv ing names. A child was fpund nicely dono up in abasket, upon the steps of a gentle man’s door, in the good city of brotherly love, and, being a stranger, was of course taken in, and the basket put away. As there were several children however, already, anil of right on the premises, the little foundling’s; presence was rather unwelcome. But for several days no clue could be discovered by which the child could be traced to those who had a more legitimate claim to it. At length it was recollected that there were some papers in the bottom of the “ fruit basket,” placed to preserve the clothes from being soiled. On examining these, the name of a distinguished lawyer in the neighbour ing state of New Jersey, was found upon one of the manuscripts, and was of course regarded as a precious discovery. A mes senger, with the basket, the child, and the manuscript, was forthwith despatched to the residence of the barrister who was no less surprised than chagrined at the sudden- claim of the little stranger to his tender sym pathies and endearing attentions of a fa ther. He strongly protested his innocence, and was in fact innocent. But this is a wicked world, and upon the substantial testi mony of the manuscript, the more earnestly he asseverated that the child was no kin of his, the more strongly it was believed that was. At length, after much rumination and cogitation, the counsellor bethought himself that the fatal manuscript was some considerable time hack sent to the printer’s, as a legal advertisement. The reminiscence was a fortunate one for him. But alas, for our brother chip ! One bit of evidence ra pidly led to another—an invalid lady who had the highest regard for the editor’s ta lents, had suddenly become much better— the ownership of the basket was fixed—a carriage had been hired for an evening’s ride to Philadelphia—and finally the driver was found who performed the journey, and knetf all about it.-^The result was that the child was removed from the portals of the bar. to the purlieus of a printing office. VYe com miserate tlie change in the fortunes of the little sufferer, since the pin-money of the counsellor’s establishment would probably have been worth more than the heirship of the estate editorial.—JV*. Y. Com. Adv. am here rotting in chains, my enemy is employed to mow, each in the usual Irish strutting about Brescia. Oh, if I could but way, having his scythe loosely wagging over kill him and then die.” These fine senti- his shoulders—and lazily lounging close to ments touched the jailor, who said to him : I the bank of the river they espied a salmon “ I will give you your liberty for four days.” I partly hid under the bank. It is the nature The Count fell upon his neck, and on the of this fish, that whenever his head is con- following Friday evening quitted the prison, cealed, he fancies no one can see his tail A gondola passed him to Mestre, where a (there are many wise-acres besides the sal- sediola with relays awaited him. He arrived mon, of the same way of thinking.) On the at Brescia at three o’clock in the afternoon present occasion the body of the fish was of Sunday, and took his po9t near the church visible. ‘Oh- *SS3fssa I M* ,h . e « lu ' FT though, Bose loud, it spoke of energy and life. Again I saw him—then liis cheek was pale, And bent his form, and dimmed his lightning eye; His strength had gone, as the tree fades when fail The freshning streams, and blighting winds go by j Gone to generous pride, the fixed intent, With which to the world’s cirque like gallant steed he bent. But, though he struggled on against the tide, The goal of promise still did fleet away, And still did mock him—till his last hope died None cried “ God bless him,” on his weary way, Looked kind, or stretched a timely hand to save; What marvel then,—the green turf decks his grave! Yea, death fell on.him, for his ills were sore; ‘Nor was it to his heart ungrateful boon; —As a light billow on the level shore, Or lamp expiring in the ardent noon, He died unheeded save by one, and she Had been the mother of his infancy. rentherically speaking, she might have plot ted till this very day—for Admirable was inexorable. One Sunday evening, the Rev. M r. Snarl text was gossipping as usual with the ladies at the mansion hou$e. As the evening waned, Miss Waitstill withdrew to an ad joining apartment, whither Rhe had privily invited the Deacon’s son. Through an op posite door, Silence retired from pique, and Experience followed from design.—Slowly they traipsed onward in solemn stateliness to their respective couches—and straightly all was still. The talt clock at the stair case had told eleven, and the moon reflect ed a mysterious sort of brilliancy. Now for a love scene. Mr. Snarltext commenced a discourse on the subject of ghosts—aver- From the Nantucket Enquirer. I ring that for two nights in succession, pre- A LOVE STORY. cisely at midnight, he had distinctly observ- When old Col. Potts departed this mortal ed a huge apparition marching round and life, in the year sixteen hundred and seventy round a little hillock, then visible. He then odd, at a village not far from Salem, an uni versal gloom was spread oveT the whole face amplified on the inconvenience and dangers of solitude—on the advantage of conjugal of the country, for at least three miles round, life,the dutyof youngladies lo provide them- The great mansion house, with all its aper- se ? ve9 w ‘th protectors and all that sort of tenances, became the inheritance, on cer- disinterested argumentation: talking with- tain conditions, of three bereaved maiden J interruption, for the space of lorty-five sisters, full grown, and somewhat lapsing minutes, when ho departed in high spirits, beyond a certain age. A faithful guardian- A11 the harangue was overheard by Miss S ip of their niece, the Colonel’s only child, Yfaitstill Potts and Mr. Rejoice Hardy iss Admirable Potts, was the tenure upon I Fitcher, seated, as before intimated, in an which the elder ladies were to {* have and adjacent room. Presently it was midnight; to hold the afore-granted premises during |as the clock announced the hour, Miss Ad- their natural lives.” Now, Miss Admirable was of that age wherein it is customary to Durable still alone, unwittingly looked out upon the haunted knoll. Nothing could be think tenderly of being thought of: and that r 9 0re romantic ; here, a. forest throwing its the indulgence of this pensive mood by the 1 shadows across fields and copses and damsel in question, may be deemed n o i,itt,e str . eiiras stealing forth into the broad transgression of' the canons of modesty, j moonshine- there, a gorgeous lake throw- the reader hereof is adjured to ransack the ! mg np millions of sparkles among the ze- tnost romantic corner of his memory, for 1 phy 73 ihat wantoned upon its bosom—anti such notions of feminine grace as shall con- yonder, a tall figure in white stalking over tribute to the formation of a very pretty pic ture of Miss Admirable Potts. Under such circumstances, it behoved the three aunts to be especially scrupulous in regard to the behaviour of their ward, a duty which they resohed to exercise with the fance and rigor. utmost vigt- the base of a dilapidated dung heap ! “ Ah ?” sighed the damsel, audibly—■“ I Wish tomercy 1 was married to Rejoice Pitch er ! But all the goblins in the v/hole parish an’t agoing to make me have that ’ere old hypocritical gander.” “Say thee so, my gairl ?” exclaims Rejoice, bursting into the Ned dear !* said one of the mow- isn’t it n door. As his enemy came out from Ves pers he stretched him dead with a shot from 1 ers, look at that big fellow there ; carbine. Not- one of the by-standers I pity we ha’nt no speer.’ thought of arresting Count Veteleschi, who I * May be,’ said Ned, * we could be after calmly returned to his sediola, and was back piking the lad with the scythe handle, in prison on Tuesday evening. The Seig-1 * True for you!’ said Dennis; * the spike neure of Venice were soon informed of this of your handle is longer than mine, give the new murder, and Count Viteleschi was fellow a dig with it at any rate.* brought before them, scarcely able to hold ‘ Ay will I,’ returned the other; * I’ll give himself up, so enfeobled was he by confine- j the lad a prod he’ll never forget any how.’ ment. On the accusation being read: “ How many witnessesv have signed this new ca The spike and their sport was all they thought of, but the blade of the scythe which ‘ Now hit the lad * there now—there ! smart,’ said Dennis rise your fist; now lumny?” asked Viteleschi, with a sepulchral hung over Ned’s shoulders, never came in voice. “ More than 200,” was the answer, to the contemplation of either of them. Ned “Your Excellencies know, however, that cautiously looked over the bank; the un on Sunday last, the day of the murder, I conscious salmon lay snug, little imagining was in the cursed prison; you may now see the conspiracy that had been formed against how numerous are my enemies.” This rea-1 him. soning shook some of the old Judges, the young ones favoured Viteleschi on account of the singularity of his character, and in alyou have the boy, now Ned—success short-time, owing to this fresh murder, he ‘Ned struck at the salmon with all his was set at liberty. A year after, the jailor might and main, and that was not trifling received, through the hands of a priest, one But whether * tlie boy ’ was pinked or not hundred and eighty thousand livres, (about never appeared; for poor Ned, bending his 60,000 francs,) the price of the sole remain- neck as he struck at the salmon, placed the ing unmortgaged property that Viteleschi I vertebrae in the most convenient position possessed. This determined, impassioned, for unfurnishing his shoulders, and his head and extraordinary individual, whose life came tumbling splash into the Barrow, to would make a most interesting volume, lived! the utter astonishment of his comrade, who to a good old age, the terror of all his neigh- could not conceive how it could drop off so hours. A curious story is told of his having suddenly. But the next minute he had the lived concealed for fifteen days in a chimney, consolation of seeing the head attended by for the purpose of watching his mistress, one of his own ears, which had been most whom to his great joy he found faithful, dexterously sliced off by the same blow She was in the habit of receiving the visits which beheaded his comrade. The head of a rich young man who had enamoured j and ear rolled down the river in company, her, but whom she was desirous of securing and were picked up with extreme horror at as a husband for her daughter. Viteleschi, the milldam, near Mr. Richardson’s, by one convinced of her innocence, dropped sud denly from the chimney, and said to the as tonished young man: “You have had a most fortunate escape ; see what it is to of the miller’s men. * Whoever owned it,’ said the man, * had three ears at any rate.’ A search being now made, Ned’s head- have to do with a man of probity! Another less body was discovered lying half over in my place would have killed you without the bank, and Dennis in a swoon, through verifying the fact.” He once, at the ap- fright and loss of blood, was found recum proach of Easter, made one of his retainers bent by its side. Dennis, when brought to affect to be in articvla mortis, and send for himself, (which process was effected by the confessor of this same mistress; the] whiskey) recited the whole adventure, holy man having partaken of some refresh-1 They tied up the head ; the body was attend- ments in which opium had been mixed, fell ed by a numerous assembly of Ned’s coun asleep; when Viteleschi borrowed his trymen to the grave, and the habit of carrv- clothes, in which he disguised himself and ing scythes carelessly very much declined.— repaired to the church, whither he knew his mistress was to go that day to make her confession. Infant Trouve.—Yesterday afternoon SiendahPs Rome, Naples, <£c. I well dressed female requested a woman who was sitting in High-street market, to hold her infant while she performed an errand at the distance of a few squares. Confessions of an Album writer—I have written, from firsj^to last, in two hundred and forty-six Albums. In a hundred and ninety-five of them I have made love out right to the charming proprietors, though two thirds of them excited no feelings in my naturally cold and passionless breast.— I have invoked blessings ou tho heads of thirty three, in the most fervent and affec tionate style, some of whom I hav^ not known an hour previous to the time of my making the invocation ; and I have compli- I M|P The woman accordingly took the child, apparently about six months old, and with it a small bundle, containing the child’s clothes. The^sup- osed mother, however, did not return to re- eem her pledge ; and after waiting a long time, the person who received the child,was compelled to return to her own house, with the gratuitous addition to her family.—-27. S. Gazette. if Philadelphia seems to bo a popular place Ice Fruit Anecdote.—At this warm season, when ice creams are sought after as an alleviation to heat and drought, which beset us with exceeding power, the following anecdote may not be unacceptable to those who have not before met with it, and even to such as have, it will not increase their perspiration by a second perusal.—An honest sea-officer, attended an enter tainment given by an English gentleman in the city of Agrigentum, Jn Italy. The desert con sisted of a great variety of fruits, and a still greater variety of ices. These were so dis guised in the shapes of peaches, figs, oranges, nuts, &c. that a person unacquaint ed w ith ices might very easily have been taken in.—One of the servants carried the figure of a large peach to the captain, who, unacquainted with deceit] of any kind, never doubted that it was a rea) one, and cutting it through in the middle, in a (moment he had one large half of it in his mouth : at first he only looked grave, and blew up his cheeks to give it more room ; but the violence of the cold soon getting the better of his pa tience, lie began to turn it about from side to side in his mouth, bis eyes rushing out water, till at last, able to hold no longer, he spit it out upon his plate exclaiming with au oath, “ A painted snow-hall!” and wiping away his tears, he turned in a rage to the Italian servant that had helped him, with 4 you “ maccaroni rascal what do you mean by that?” The fellow who understood not word of it, could not forbear smiling, which still convinced the captain the more that it was a trick : “ What, do you laugh, you villain ?” and he was just a going to throw the rest of the snow ball in his fare, w hen ho was checked by one of the com pany, and cooling down a little, added, very well, I only wish I had the rascal on board ship—he should have a cool dozeh bbfore he could say Jack Robinson for all his painted kickshaws.” “ I have lived,” said the indefatigable E. D. Clarke, “ to know that the greatest se cret of human happiness is this—never suf fer your energies to stagnate. The old adage of “ too many irons in the fire,” con veys an abominable lie.—-You cannot have too many; poker, tongs and all—keep them all going.” The “ Methodist Discipline ” makes it the duty of those who have the charge of circuits, to recommend every where decen cy and cleanliness. It gives directions to taste no spirituous liquors, no dram of any kind, unless prescribed by a physician; to wear no needless ornament, such as rings, earrings, necklaces, lace, or ruffies. Among a variety of Specifications late ly brought against an individual in Lon don, while under examination on a charge of Lunacy, was one that he would take up a newspaper and after looking at it for a mo ment, throw it abruptly down again, declar- ing that it was all nonsense 2 Who could dohbt that he was mad—mad as a March hare, after so unequivocal a demonstration as this.—Aug/ Chronicle. A young woman lately died suddenly in Paris, who left behind her a paper stating that, having been unfaithful to her lover, she .hoar to live no longer. m