Newspaper Page Text
POST E3.
From the Boston Literary Gazette.
TO GABUIKLLF*
A «!cep smooth water, between the liilla!—
The tribute singin<r of silver rills
Dwells round its brow; and the clustering vine
Veils the edge rocks ; the silken twine
Of the soft and Cringing moss lies o’er
fts swelling isles—like u trackless shore,
Where fairies, who fly o’er the silent d»-op,
With weary wings may come don » and sleep.
An evening hour—come Gabriollel soon
The eastern sky will unfold her moon :
This bending heaven is blue and fair
As thine own eye, inilsdark-fring’d lair;
The evening star, na a precious gem
Is flaming in nature’s diadem;—
Put on thy robe, and come out this night.
And pour thy stnile in this modest light 1
It is a silent, a holy scene!—
Tho mobn is silvering all this green;
The glassy lake, and the mossy isle,
\« Ido thine, crave her dewy smile!
lies beams flow round on tho check of sky,
As thy silken locks on thy bosom lie;
Look, beautiful! on the ettrv’d above,
And list the stars, as they sing of love.
The dews shine swecily on flower and leaf—
The tears of earth, that its sheen is brief-—
Tiie reckless fount goes on to the leap
•Singing along o’er the bushy steep;
And coming ripples are talking on
To that fallen one, whose voice hath gone !
We sing with friends in a joyous breath—
Again?—they shall sleep in the hull of death I
I heed not death—for thy clasping arm
Will shield me, love! from its early liurm ;
And know not grief—for thy smile, tby care
Have turn’d its cloud to a sunny air!
No care, no cross, no withering blight,
For all their funeral bath pass’d to night!
f bend my knee—’tis to swear me well
To love and cherish thee, Gahriellc!
THE KOMANTIC.
O saw you tho knight of the hlood«rcd plume,
As he spurr’d his coal-black steed?
The sky as he pass’d was wrapt in gloom;
And so fast he rode—that ho left Ida groom
At « wry great distance indeed. ^
Tie cornea from the plains of Arraoau:
From the wild* of Timbuctoo;
For he slew the Sultan, man to man,
His red plumo wav’d in victory’s van,—
And he show’d ’em what he could do.
A hoy rides with him of sweet presage,
With ringlets all shining and slindy ;
Ho ran soothe the knight in his wildcat rage;
But a good sharp eye which examines that puge,
\Vill shrewdly suspect—’tis a lady.
And tho lady she speaks in n foreignnotc,
She was born in a land of fairy,
t ween by her accent you’ll guess the spot,
’ pis an accent in sooth, that is seldom forgot,
Tho brogue of her own Tipperary.
Hut thou Lord llildcric, man of blood!
Who iisurp’st that lady’s (lonieiu :
Who didst send, in thine ireful and fraudulent mood,
Four assassins, her carriage to stop in a wood,
And pistol her—somewhere in Spain.
Behold her return’d all alive! alive!
And Sir Gnwen is come to right her.
Now tyrant oppressor! confoss thee and shrive,
Or summon thy vassals, bnd manfully strive,
For Sir Gawen’s u devilish lighter.
The trumpeter’s breath rends the welkin in twain,
Hut the red-pliim’d knight slmll answer ye,
Nor think, should their impious challenge prove vain,
To keep the estate by tho laws of cliicunc,
Or tiling a hill in Chancery.
*** + **» +
Vow joy to tho Indy! thy lands aro restored f
Like a lion that never flinches,
Lord llildcric fought, hut won quickly floor’d.
And Sir Gawen bus pass’d his avenging sword
Through his windpipe—a couple ofinc lies.
Tho hells arc all ringing, full certain 1 am
There's o wedding, with masquers and dancers,
l.’un ! join tho cuiousal! :-hout, revel, and cram,
And pledge the fair bride of Gnwen M’Flnm,
of the sixteenth regiment of lancers.
From ** Sad Tales and Glad Talcs.”
EXECUTION OF ANDIIF..
“Wo now return to out unfortunnto cap-
live. Tho wise nnd the bravo hnd ant in
judgement upon him. Hie case had been the
subject of high nnd deliberate nnd aliening
-•misideration. Tho circumstances of his cap
ture—his unqualified confession*—his enrnest,
though dignified requests, had been maturely,
hut sternly weighed. Tho nobleness of his
nature, tho lofty disinterestedness of his da-
meaner, the winning amenity <>f liis manners,
tho importance of his rank, were ull npproeia-
tod ns they should be by soldiers—tried sol
diers—when sitting under tho severe sanetion
of a war-council. When ’they issued from
that council, the desolate doom of tho prisoner
was irrevocably fixed. He was to die. Be
fore another sun should go down, his tics on
earth wero to be severed. Meanwhile the
subject of this melancholy decision was await
ing tho result with nil tho calm and clevntod
feelings of n generous nnd undaunted soldier.
Ho was ignorant of what might he the issue :
hut his knowledge of the rules of war led him
so fur to anticipate it, that he hnd in some de
gree become reconciled to his probable doom,
from tho very hopelessness of escaping from
it. s The agitation conscqu"nt upon the sud
denness of his arrest, had subsided ; nnd
though his saddened mind reverted again and
again to the scenes and associations we have
seen him cling to from the beginning, yet tlicro
was ’ less poignancy in his recollections, and
lcss ucuteucss in the trials of his high and mas
culine sensibilities. Tho thought of dontli
was a vain thought to him. Ho was prepared
•o meet it, in every honourable shape, in which
a soldier expects nnd hopes sometime to meet
it. It was tho stigma upon his fame—the me
mory he should leave with man, that proyed
upon his soul. It was this that paled his
cheek, and dewed his brow—it was this made
his heart beat till he could hear it, in his soli
tude. If sometimes his aad, glistening eye
rpsted again on that precious gem, which be
fore bad absorbed, ns it seemed, his very life,
the kindest and bravest heart would spare him
there, if a tear was seen to drop upon it; and
the thought, possibly, of sacred nud devoted
passion—of long and holy love, with all its
blessed hopes, and all its desolate bereave
ments, would accompany it as it fell, and hal
low it forever.
There was yet one consolation that bore
up the prisoner, even when lie thought upon
the memory ho should bequeath to the world
and to posterity. Ilo hoped and trusted that
lie should meet an honourable death, and that
liis country would never blush at his epitaph.
He Imd asked—he bail besought, with ft burst
ing heart, that if he must die, he might die like
a man oflionour. He had addressed the Ame
rican chieftain, in proud petition, for this last,
littlo boon of the condemned soldier. He had
addressed him in all the beautiful eloquoncc of
his lofty riiiud, urged bv a heart almost break
ing in the intensity of its emotions. Need it
he said that ho roused all the sympathies of a
bosom, kindling with godlike purposes, and
alive to every heavenly charily that can sanc
tify our nature ? Can it bo said, that the heart
lie appealed to would not have hid him Cod
speed,even with a father’s blessing.to the arms
of liis country and liis home, did that heart
bent alone for himself, or did the fate of the
victim involve only the single destiny of that
great and devoted being? But there were
stern duties arrayed against the kind spirit of
forhcnranco nnd forgiveness. Tho voico of
his siifl'criiig land wus imperious with him who
guarded her in council, and led her in battle.
That voire now called for justice, and de
manded that tiie crisis should not lie forgotten.
It was tho cry of Liberty, and the saerdice
must not be withheld ; it was the summons of
Justice, and his death must accord with the
crime of which the prisoner stood convicted.
During the days of his confinement, not a
murmur escaped tiie captive, in tiie presence
of his guard. A dignified composure distin
guished his deportment—and tho scrcnitv of
liis mind was depicted in the tranquillity of his
countenance. Tiie last hours of his solitude
were employed in those holy offices which
friendship claims of us when the sands of life
are running low. There wore a few words to
he said—a few prayers to he uttered for those
who were now dreaming of him on liis path to
glory. There were a few sad, sacred words
to lie breathed to a fond toother—to sisters
that loved him—to some, perhaps, for whose
sake uldfic life wns yet desirable, nnd to whose
bosom he would now, ns a Iqst duty to him
self, commit the reputation that was dearer to
hint than the air of Henven.
It wns in tho midst of this latest nud holiest
occupation, that tho prisoner was interrupted
by tho entrance of tho guard officer. He
came to announce the hour of execution. The
young soldier looked lip hastily from liis paper.
Ills eyes were fixed a moment upon liis visiter
—then slowly fell again—and lie passed his
hand across liis brow, without betraying tho
least emotion—“ Is it indeed so soon ?” said
lie—“ then I must hasten.” He finished the
letter in perfect calmness, and having made
all the little arrangements that he had anticipa
ted, previous to the important event, lie de
clared to the officer liis readiness to attend
him ut the moment of liis summons. lie was
then left once more alnno.
Firm in the belief that ho was now jo die
I ke n soldier, ho felt tho full weight of liis
misfortune passing from his spirits. As he
wns relieved of this iron load, an unnnturnl
elasticity seemed to be imparted to liis bosom.
His heart heat almost to suffocation, nnd the
tumultuous motion of that fountain of liis sys
tem, certainly manifested tin extraordinary de
gree of excitement. His last wish had been
granted—his Inst hope was about to be reali
zed—he wns to find nn honourable grave !
liven tlmt wns enough to lie thankful for! A
few years, nt best, and the same destiny would
he liis. “ The pang,” thought he, “ is but
die common one tlmt man is heir to—One
touch of nature makes the wliolo world kill—
And if my young existence must he thus hasti
ly sealed, thus severed forever, let futo do her
worst, and finish her work with speed”—and
he paced the apartment with an unfaultcring
step, nnd a lofty and unbending air.
The silence tlmt Imd been observed by the
conininndcr-in-chicf towards the respectful hut
ardent solicitations of the prisoner Imd led him
to argue favourably of liis success. His re
quests had not, indeed, passed unheeded—
they Imd sunk deep—they Imd touched tho
finest and tenderest chords tlmt ever vibrated
in (lie bosom of virtuo and bravery—they had
appealed to the master feeling of a great heart
tin 1 they wrought upon it with a living power!
The solicitation was listened to with n deepen
ing interest—but tlmt noble delicacy tlmt ac
tuates and ammntos none but elevated minds,
forbade tlte answer. To grant prayer wus im
possible—surlt was the iron law of those who
camo up to Imttic—to deny it, was a sorrow
ful duly ; nnd it was cqunlly a trial to the soul
of a generous enemy to iluuw hack a soiharv
denial, or to wound the spirit of a devoted pri
soner by recapitulating the story of his disho
nour in justification of his sentence. It was
ordained, therefore, that lie should remain ir
ignorance of his doom. From that very un
certainty, tho unfortunate victim wns now
drawing liis last and only consolation. The
guard nflicor had now returned to accompany
him forth, and we shall leave them together
while wo join the scene of preparation in
which the spy was so soon to become conspi
cuous.
It was deep in the afternoon, when shadows
threw themselves long over the earth, and the
sun was about to sink into a thick dull mass of
clouds, when movements preparatory to the
execution, began to manifest themselves with
in (lie post. There was hurrying to and fro
along tho lines—and sad faces went by conti
nually, and downcast looks ware seen there—
and every countenance wore the livery of deep
and sorrowful feeling. It was evident that
something mournful was about to transpire.
Tho soldiers paced along the esplanade with
low words and rapid steps—and now and then
a tear might be seen to glisten—it was but for
a moment—in the eye of the veteran. A large
detachment of troops was paraded, and many
of the general officers wero already on horse
back. Great multitudes of people flocked in
to witness the niclanclToly spectacle—but a
wide silence pervaded the immense collection.
With slow and struggling steps tho confused
and intermingled crowd of citizens and sol
diers bent their way towards the appointed
place, just bifleath the brow of n green hill
that sloped towards tho river. There, clus
tered around the dim spot devoted to destruc
tion, or sautifi ring over the adjacent ground,
they awaited the approach of tho unhappy vic
tim.
When the prisoner was led out, each arm
locked in that of n subaltern, liis step was un
commonly firm, and his expression unusually
calm, and even exhilarated. The eloquent
blood glowed to his temples, and a bright
smile of satisfaction beamed from his counte
nance on all shorn ho recognized. Tho
thought of deatk was dealing powerfully hut
kindly with him; t»r he saw that an honourable
end was to lie liisl—that his dying prayer was
about to ho granted. He thought—and the re
flection sent yet new vigor into liis throbbing
arteries—lie thought that lie saw some pledge
of kind and licroip memory in the sympathy
tlmt was breaking all around hint, in tiie gaze
of admiration that was fixed upon him, in the
tonrful eye, tho ngiated countenance, the re
spectful salutation, the sad farewell, nnd the
low suppressed morinur as he passed on, as
though something went by which it was sacri
lege to disturb in its course through the
thronging .multitude. He saw the high tri
bute that was paid to his fortitude, in the silent
look with which iic was regarded ; nnd lie felt
that his premature fate was net unwept even
by liis foes. Buoyed up by those lively de
monstrations of feeling, ho fancied himself n
martyr in (lie cause lie had undertaken to ad
vance, nnd pressed forward with mounting
emotions, ns though in haste fo seal his pil
grimage here, and commence the stainless ca
reer of his future fame. “ Tho report,”
thought he, “ that lays me low, will send forth
nn echo that shall never die.”
The detachment, with their prisoner, had
now reached the summit of the hill, and came
suddenly in view of the ground which had been
set apart for this distressing occasion. It was
occupied by a gallows! With tho rapidity of
light every eye was turned upon tho victim.
His was fixed in phrenzy on the dismal object
(lint rose portcntiously out of tho multitude.
Ho spako not n word—some poworful, rending
emotion hnd taken possession of his hursting
bosoin. His hand flew to his heart—one look
of anguish passed like a shadow over his face,
and ho fell lifeless into the arms of his guards.
There was no voice heard in tlmt immense
crowd—hut a confused trampling as of a vast
concourse of people when they arc rushing to
gether.
* * * * * *
The clouds had now cleared ofF from the
horizon, nnd the sun was about going down,
when tho last rites were performed over the de
parted soldier. There was no pomp, or noiso,
or show. A smnll escort of troopu m«rclic<l
quickly over tho gravel, and stood boforo the
door of the stone building from which tho rc-
tnntns were to lie carried. A single drum
heat out n hollow note ut distant intervals, nnd
the fife sung sharp nnd mournful. The coffin
was at length borne out; and with a slow step,
inverted bayonets, and downward eyes, the
procession moved on. Many who eared not
to join, stood behind in silent contemplation ;
nnd many, out of idle curiosity, lingered round,
scarcely knowing why they wore there. Be
hind somolow, desolate buildings, which would
scarcely shelter it from the storms of win-
ter* tho solitary grave was dug. Round this,
the soldiers crowded in silence. On either
side they loaned upon their muskets, and hard
ly a breath wns heard, as the book of prayer
was opened, and the fervent supplication wont
up to Heaven. The scene wns singularly im
pressive. Immediately round tho grave, in
the rear of the soldiers, some stood wrapped
in gloomy attention ; others, still behind, were
seen eagerly gazing over the shoulders of
tlioso who hnd closed up before them. Every
cap was off, and every eye fixed. Still beyond,
the sick wero seen peeping out of tho half-
opened door; and women and boys stood,
with arms crossed upon their bosoms, befnro
tiie miserable huts from which they hnd just
issued. There, there was no moving—no
noise—no roving of the looks—all wero bent
upon the speaker, who stood upon the brink of
the cold grave, with eyes raised in adjuration
to Henven, and calling on the Father of Spi
rits with an eloquence so full, so powerful, so
commanding, that liis very soul seemed to
mount up with his words. He ended. At
the quick command of the officer, the coffin
was lowered the guns were brought down—
the steel rung—and inn moment it glittered
again in the Inst sun-tentn. At a word, tho
dnntli-vollcy .was fired olTm the air—another
followed—nnd then another—nnd^thc Inst was
discharged into the gave. It was all over—
the smoke curled slowly among the wet gra
vel, nnd settled down upon tho coffin—’twns
the war-smoke cmbalning the soldier! The
drum heat merrily—nnd tho files wheeled info
the lines, just ns the sun went down in his
8*°ry.
A Fishing Cal.—There is now at the Bat-
tcry on the Devil’s Point, a cat which is an
expert catcher of tho finny tribe, being in the
constant habit of diving into the sea and bring
ing up the fish alive in her mouth and deposit
ing them in the Guard room for the use of the
soldiers. She is now seveu years old, and has
long been a useful caterer. It is supposed
that her pursuit of the water rats first taught
her to venture into the water, to which it is
well known puss has a natural aversion. She
is ns fond of the water as a Newfoundland dog,
and she takes her regular peregrinations along
the rocks at its edge, looking out for her prey,
ready to dive for them at a moment’s notice—
Plymouth Journal.
The fPandering Jar.—It is probnbio tlmt
tho person of the hero of the annexed narra
tive, from the Warren Star, is the same ltahbi,
who some months ago exhibited his equip
ments in tho streets of this city, much to the
amusement of the children, l’y the live, wlmt
has become of Ikey Solomons, who made so
sudden an appearance at Steven’s trial I
Moses Swarts, as he called himself, took
passage on hoard tho ship Gratitude, Cnpt
Child, of this port, hound front Savannah to
Providence, with a heard longer then his purse
or his concicnce, n head longer than either, and
a story of wealth nnd importance longer than
all together. Ho was horn, he said, at Odessa.
“ Imd do monish, and vas von jusli among de
peoples”—was looking for a place to loeate
himself, anti would do a power of business in
shaving folk in notes, watches, fancy goods, and
any think else he sold them; and this part of
tho story proved true. When ho landed in
Providence, the singularity of his costume at
tracted considerable attention; for Mosos
Swarts wore tho costume of an eastern Jew,
nnd it never popped into the heads of honest
Rhode Isianders, that a silk tunick with a fan
cy edge and a velvet rap with a bright button,
could cover a villain; so they looked with curi
osity—received a favor—credited with cash
and goods—and believed to the letter. If ho
walked in the streets, crowds of mercantile
hoys followed him with their wheel harrows of
gingerbread and sugar candy, nnd crowds of
men with their eyes. And Moses Swarts was
a great man.
From Providence he came to Warren for
the purpose of buying a country-seat, where
lie might retire when h'e had clean-shaved tiie
good people of our sister town. Here he was
a greater cause of wonderment than at Provi
dence. People looked with astonishment up
on a .Tew, a real Jew, who had come all the
way from the Black Sea, to scatter shekels of
gold and shekels of silver among the truly for
tunate inhabitants of IUiodo Island. And
there too, was a flowing robe, nnd a turban,
nnd a yellow chain, and broad trowsers. and n
swarthy complexion, making n figure so nenr
like the picture of Josephus in the book, that
sotno more knowing than the rest, whispered
of a revival of the Jewish dispensation, and all
looked and wondered as they looked. Some
thought him no Isrealife, but Prince Ypsylanti
or some other unfortunate hero in disguiso.
And Moses Swarts was an astonishing sight
for old women and little boys.
Thus far lie had expended money like a na
bob : no price hnd prevented tho choicest bot
tle of wine from finding its way to If s table, or
the richest viands from being at his service—
he asked no questions about hills, it wns be
neath the dignity of a Jewish merchant; iic ca
red not what nn article cost, it was contrary to
his nut"re; he inquired net if lie was cheated
in this or in that, so lie only got it ho was con
tent. And Moses Swarts, was the most liber
al gentleman in the State.
Rut Moses did not live altogether for liis
belly, as will he shown in the sequel. He
contrived to get into tho good graces of a num
ber of merchants, and unfortunately for them,
not only into thoir good graces hut also into
their debt. Among others who were doomed
to give him a keep-sake against their will was
Capt. Child, of tho Gratitude, who had brought
him from Savannah. Ho informed Cnpt. Child
that he wished him to take a box of jewelry and
cash on his return to Savannnh, where lie
would find a person who, in exchungo for the
contents of the box, would give him n certain
number of gold watches. Cnpt. C. professed
a willingness to transact the business—went
with Swarts to his lodgings, saw the money
counted, whiclt consisted of doubloons, sover
eigns, and Imnk bills, which wns put into a tin
box nnd this tin box was enclosed in a large
wooden ono previously packed with valuables,
which was strongly secured und carefully seal
ed. All this Capt. Child sate, or thought he
sate, and ho Ihereforodid not hesitate to give
a receipt for the box and contents, the whole
amount of which wns several thousand dollars;,
ho took tho box, immediately, into his posses
sion, and despatched his steward with it, to the
ship. Upon tho strength of this shipment,
Swarts- obtained a credit for a considerable
amount; nnd among others, borrowed a sum of
money of Capt. Child. Soon after the sailing
of tho Gratitude, this J udge of Isrcal left Rhode
Island for the south—his board bill as well as
other debts which he had contracted, being
left unpaid. On the arrival of the ship in Sa
vannah, tho captain sought in vnin for the man
Who wns to rcccivo his cltnrgc ; no one knew
any thing of it, and no one appeared to claim
it; und us a matter of course, it came hack to
this port with the ship. This fact being known
in Providence, and it being ascertained that he
had insured the box for about half its alleged
value, his creditors came to the conclusion Irotn
this circumstance, that it was of sufficient val
ue to cover their demands; one of their num
ber, therefore, obtained a writ, nnd came down
for the putposo of tanking an nltacnmcnt. Capt
C. however, by consent, touched the box first
in a legal way, nnd the sheriff took it iuto his
hands and it was opened. Among packages
neatly pat up, with glass ornaments tied upon
Ihe outside as a sample of their contents, was
found the identical tin ease into which Cnpt.
Child supposed ho hnd seen the doubloons put
—but lo! the metal hnd gone bnck to its na
tive mine, or it had undergone a change as
wonderful ns it was curious, for the space for
merly occupied by Iho gold was now filled with
epsom salts! One after another of the packa
ges wore now opened, when instead of jewel
ry, here appeared a pair of stockings, there a
neckcloth, nnd anon a pair of fanciful trowsers
rather the worse for wear, and occasionally a
towel bearing the name of souio landlord who
had been so fortunate as to obtain his custom!
And as these lay in confusion around the box
that formerly contained them, both sheriff and
creditor were ready to exclaim, like the Roman
mother—
“These ate my jewels.”
So it appeared that the box for which Capt. C.
had given the valuable rccuipt, was hardly
worth a sixpence : And Moses Swarts was
beyond the shadow of a doubt, a calculating
villain.”—A*. Y. Com. Ado.
Dorrilites. —For the first time we have had
an account of that singular denomination of
Christians called Dorrilites. Having never
hoard of them before, we will give a short no.
ticc of their origin nnd sudden dispersion.
The founder of the sect, whose name was Dor.
rtl, was a refugee from the army of Gen. Ii„ r .
goyne. He was a person of art and manage,
ment, nnd liis acquaintance with mankind in-
duccd him to set himself about some employ-
ment, by which ho might procure a subsistancc
without work. To this end lie setup preach-
ing, and such was his success that lie soon "a.
thered a large number of followers. His reli
gious notions wore us absurd as his preten
sions to preternatural powers were impious and
profane. He assumed to himself the attribute
of Deity, and proclaimed abroad that such
was his condition, that no liumnn power could
injure Ins person, or take from him his lift,,
and sucli was the effect wrought by his preach
ing, that great numbers flocked to his standard,
und placed tho most implicit belief in nil liis
assumptions. He promised them, that by ern-
bracing his faith and living according to his
system of belief, they, like him, should live
forever nnd enjoy the uninterrupted health and
bo beyond the reach of accidents. Ho taught
liis adherents to abstain wholly from ail food
or clothing procured at the expenso of animal
life; and they accordingly threw off their lea
ther shoes and substituted those made of wood
or cloth in their place. He preached so effec
tually, that his followers conformed to his no.
lions in the smallest particulars, nnd to such
extent did their doctrine of humanity lead them,
that one who was a blacksmith laid aside his
leather bellow* us reprobate und constructed a
pair from cloth.—Their principal food was
milk and vegetables.—He pretended fo be go.
vcrneil wholly by the light of nature, and in
structed liis pupils to throw aside all revelation.
Ho taught them to reject nil laws except such
as ho should approve. Ltko all founders of a
new sect, lie was full of zeal and activity, and
preached incessantly. Frequent meetings were
held, and their worship wus composed of a
singular combination of eating, drinking, dan
cing and lecturing. Dorrill himself resit!, d
in Leyden, in this State, hut his followers worn
composed of the inhabitants of that und some
of the adjoining towns. Some of the most
respectable persons became converts to liis
faith, nnd gave most liberal aid in the promo
tion of liis scheme. Although Dorrill Imd lit
tle or no property, ho required of his followers
that they turn a great portion of their tvordly
goods into common stock, und then remain to
be formed or managed as Dorrill might direct.
During the years 1797 nnd ’99 his hearers in
creased rapidly, nnd great numbers, some from
motives of curiosity, others from tho belief of
his divine character, went to hear liis preach
ing. It happened that at ono of tho meet
ings there wns present n nitm by the name of
Ezekiel Foster, of Leyden. lie was led by
curiosity to see a man of Dorrill’s singular
character. He had heard mucli of his super
natural powers, and had courage finally of put
ting to the test the truth of his pretensions,
lie found Dorrill, us usual, addressing n large
audience; nnd when lio came to speak of his
invulnerable qualities, among oilier things he
uttered in n very impressive tone, “ no arm can
hurt niy flesh.” Foster, who, besides having
much good scusc, was of a gigantic figure, re
quested tho preacher to repeat the sentence,
which ho did, and no sooner had the words,
“ no nrm can hurt my flesh,” escaped lus
blasphemous lips, than Foster gave him n blow
with his fist that brought the preacher to the
floor. Dorrill, dismayed and astonished, at
tempted to rise, but the incredulous Foster re
peated the blows with such expedition nnd ef
fect that Dorrill cried for mercy, and under it
shower of kicks nnd thumps ’renounced liis
doctrines nnd promised that ho would never
preach them more, provided Foster would re
lieve him from further examination. In the
midst of his people he acknowledged himself
nn imposter, nnd greatly to their confusion and
mortification confessed that liis only object
lind been to see what fools he could make of
men. Dorrill continued to reside in Leyden,
and was a few years ugo, a pauper of that town.
— fl’orctsler JEgis.
Chin Surveying.—A person not fur from
Torringlon Devon, whoso face is somewhat
above tiie ordinary dimensions,had been wait
ed on nnd shaved by a certain barber every
day for 21 years, without coming to any regu
lar settlement. The tradesman, thinking it
time to wind up iho u.-count, curried in iiis iriii,
charging Id. per day, which amounted to 31?.
9s. 2d. The gentleman thinking this rather
exorbitant, made some scruple about payment,
when the tonsor proposed, if his customer
thought proper, lo charge by tho acre, at the
rr.te of200/; this was readily agreed to, and on
measuring tho premises, 192 square inches
proved to bo tlte content, which, traversed over
7670 times, would measure 1,-112,640 of an
acre, tire charge for which would be 46?. 19*.
Id. bciirg 15/. 9s. lid. in favour of chin-sur
veying.—Liverpool Courier.
He that will lose his friend for a jest, de
serves to die a beggar by the bargain. Yet
some think their conceits, like mustard, not
good except they bite.—We read that all those
who were horn in England the year after the
beginning of tho great mortality, 1349, wanted
their four cheek-teeth. Such let thy jest be,
that they may not grind the credit of thy friend;
nnd make no jests so long till thou becomes’,
one.
Harmless mirth is tho best cordial ogams'
the consumption of the spirits : wherefore jest
ing is not unlawful, if it trespasseth not in
quantity, or season.