From a London Paper.
“ THE JOY OF GRIEF.”
OSS I AN.
SWEET the hour of tribulation,
When the heart can freely sigh:
And the tear of resignation
Twinkles in the mournful eye.
Have you felt a kind emotion
Tremble through your troubled breast;
Soft as evening o’er the ocean,
When she charms the waves to rest ’
Have you lost a friend, a brother ?
Heard a father’s parting breath ?
Gaz’d upon a lifeless mother,
Till she seem’d to wake from death ?
Have you felt a spouse expiring
In your arms, before your view ;
Watch’d the lovely soul retiring
From her eyes, that broke on you.
Did not grief then grow romantic,
Raving on remember’d bliss ?
Did you not, with fervor frantic.
Kiss the lips that felt no kiss ?
Y*c! but when you had resign’d her,
Life and you were reconcil’d;
Anna left —she left behind her,
One, one dear, one only child.
But before the green moss peeping,
His poor mother’s grave array’d,
In that grave, the infant sleeping
On the mother’s lap was laid.
Horror then, your heart congealing,
Chill’d you with intense despair;
Can you recollect the feeling;
No ! there was no feeling there !
From that gloomy trance of sorrow,
When you woke to pangs unknown,
How unweleome was the morrow,
For it rose on you alosi!
Sunk in self consuming anguish,
Can the poor heart always ache ?
No, the tortured nerve will languish,
Or the strings of life must break.
O’er the yielding brew of sadness,
One faint smile of comfort stole ;
One soft pang of tender gladness,
Exquisitely thrill’d your soul.
While the wounds of woe are healing ;
While his heart is all resign’d,
’Tis the solemn feast of feeling,
’Tii the sabbath of the mind.
Pensive memory then retraces
Scenes of bliss forever iled ;
Lives in former times and places, >
Holds communion with the dead.
And, when night’s prophetic slumbers
Rend the veil of mortal eyes,
From their tombs, the sainted numbers
Os our lost companions rise.
You have seen a friend, a brother,
Heard a dear dead father speak ;
Proved the fondness of a mother,
Felt her tears upon ycur cheek !
Dreams of love your grief beguiling,
You have clasp’d a consort’s charms,
And received your infant smiling
From his mother’s sacred arms.
Trembling, pale, and agonizing,
While you mourn’d the vision gone,
Bright the morning star arising,
Open’d Heaven, from whence it shone.
Thither all your wishes bending
Rose in extacy sublime,
Thither all your hopes ascending
Triumph’d over death and time.
1 bus afflicted, bruised and broken,
Have you known such sweet relief?
Yes, my friend! and by this token.
You have felt “ the joy of grief.”
the Trenton) True American,
“ PUNCTUALITyTs THE LIFE OF
EVERY man of business will readily
confess the truth of my text; and yet
not one in an hundred perhaps is gov
erned by it.
You are in great want of a pair ol
shoes—your shoemaker measures you
fur them—he will have them done such
a day for certain—you call, and send,
and send and call, and have good luck
if as much as a thickness of sole-leath
er is not worn out in running for them
before you get them—while you are
suffering in your health, and endanger
ing your life, by trampling about in
The Tailor measures you for a suit;
of clothes—you have put oft’ getting
thtm as long as you could do without,
and are now in a great hurry for them—
he is liberal in promises, for promises
cost nothing—but a violation of truth.
\ou are sure to have them on a set
day—you fix your heart upon them—
they are not done, but will be to-mor
row—and may be this same story is
repeated until it is as thread-bare as
your old clothes, and your many disap
pointments devour more than half your
pleasures in your new ones.
\ou take a piece to the weaver’s—
you or your children are almost suffer
mg for it. “It shall he done in a few
days.” A few weeks elapse, some
times months, and even years, before
you get your piece woven—and if it is
not injured by mice or moths, you have
to thank their forbearance for it.
The Miller promises you your grist
the next morning. Morning comes,
and not one grain of it is ground. Se
veral days roll round—your corn is still
in the bag, and not uufrecjuently re
mains there till your hungry bellyache
makes you roar loud enough to fright
en it into the hopper.
You want your grass cut, your har
vest in, your grain threshed out—you
engage a person to assist you—you may
depend upon it he will not disappoint
you; but if your hay and harvest ~ot
on the field, or the rats devour your
grain, before your laborer anives, you
may console yourself with the reflection
that you are not the first person that
has been served so.
It is not merely these descriptions
of persons who forget to remember that
“ Punctuality is the life of business;”
the same forgetfulness infests all clas
ses of mankind? The employer is as
often as far from punctuality as the
employed. Have not you, my readers,
many of you, suffered your tailor, your
shoemaker, your weaver, or other work
men, to calf again and again before
you paid them their just dues ? Besides
robbing them of their money for a sea
son, you rob them of their time in com
| ing or sending for it—and “ time is
j money.” If “ the laborer is woithyof
j his hire,” ought it not to be paid him
J when his labor is finished ?
\ou, Mr. - (the sermonizer will
not call names, but you know who he
means) have owed your doctor a great
while. He perhaps saved you from a
speedy consignment to “ the house ap
pointed for all living”—and now you
requite his service by refusing to pay
his honest demand. Ingratitude is the
vilest of vices—for all others there may
be some apology—for this, none.
You, M. . have a long bill due at
Mr 's store. Punctuality is, in a spe
cial degree, the life of his business—
without money he cannot get any goods
—and without it, he had better sell
none. \et you detain his money from
him, and perhaps lay it out for other
objects, not half so just or honorable.
Sir, these things ought not so to be.
'1 he parson, among other good men,
feels, frequently too sensibly feels, your
wantol punctuality. In this free coun
try, no one is obliged to subscribe to the
support of any minister: so much the
more ought you to be punctual in pay
ing the small pittance which you have
promised “ the man of God.”—While
he is toiling to furnish food for your im
mortal souls, surely you should provide
him with sustenance for his mortal body
—while he is seeking to make your
death bed easy, you cannot refuse your
aid to render his life comfortable—Re
member who has said “ the laborer is
worthy of his hire.”
Perhaps it may not be amiss to re
member the printer in my discourse.
He is in a very difficult and disagreea
ble situation. He trusts every body, he
knows not who—his money is scattered
every where, he hardly knows where
to look for it. His paper, his ink his
presses and his types, his labor and his
living, all must punctually be paid for.
—\ou, Mr.. .and Mr. , and
Mr. , and Mr. ——, and an hun
dred others that I could name, have
taken Mr. .’s paper a great"while—.
you, and your wives, and your children,
and your neighbors, have been amused
and informed, and I hope improved by
’’ it—if you miss one paper you think ve
t ry hard of the printer or post for it; for
- you had rather go without your best
meal than without your paper—have
i you ever complied w ith the condition of
1 subscription ? Have you taken as much
1 pains to furnish the printer with his mo
, ney as he has to furnish you with your
l paper? Have you contributed your mite
• to repay him for his ink, his paper, his
i types, his presses, his hand-work and
: his head work ?If you have not—go—
■ pay him off, “ and sin no more.”
i Verily, brethren, this want of punctu
ality is “ a sore evil under the sun”—an
evil which is felt by ail ciasst3 and con
ditions of life, and which all ought to
unite to scout out of society. The
scripture movelh us in sundry places to
render unto every one his due, and to
owe no man any thing and experi
ence teacheth us that without punctual
ity there is neither pleasure nor profit
in business—But were it otherwise,
promises ought not to be broken—“ for
what shall it profit a man to gain the
whole world, and lose his own soul ?”
From Warner's “ Walks through Wales.”
IHE bridge at Usk is formed of
wood, on a similar construction with
that of Chepstow ; and the same reason
is to be ascribed, for the tide at each
place occasionally rising to the inertd
ible height of fifty or sixty feet. The
boards which compose the flooring of
this bridge, are designedly loose, in or
der to float with the tide when it ex
ceeds a certain height, and are prevent
ed from escaping only by little pegs at
the ends of them ; they do not afford a
very safe fooling for the traveller; and
some aukward accidents have been
known to arise from this cause. A sin
gular adventure occurred to a female
about twenty years ago, as she was
passing it at night, which tells so much
to the credit of the ladies, that it would
be unpardonable in a tourist, who is
less an admirer of the sex than myself,
not to detail the particulars.
T he heroine in question was a Mrs.
W illiams, well known at the town of
Usk, and living there till within these
few years. She had been to spend a
cheerful evening at a neighbor’s house
on the eastern side of the river, and
was returning home, I presume, at a
decent hour, and in a decorous state.
The night being extremely dark, she
had provided herself with a lanthren
and candle, by the assistance of which
she found her way towards the bridge,
and had already passed part of the dan
gerous structure. When about half
over, however, she unfortunately trod
on a plank th*t had by some accident,
lost the peg which originally confined
it, and had slipped from its proper sit
uation. Ihe faithless board instantly
yielded to the weight cf the good lady,
and carried her through the flooring,
candle and lanthern into the river.—
Fortunately, at the moment of falling,
she was standing in such a position as
gave her a seat on the plank, similar
to that of a horseman on his nag. It
may be easily imagined, that Mrs. V il
liams must have been somewhat sur
prised at this change of situation, as
well as alteration of climate. Blessed
however, with a large share of that
presence of mind, and a patient endur
ance of evils, which exalts the female
character so far above our own, the good
lady was not overwhelmed by her fall;
and steadily maintained her seat on the
board, taking care, at the same time,
to preserve the candle lighted, rightly
supposing it would serve as an “index
to any one that might be able or will
to assist her. Thus bestriding the
plank, our heroine was hurried down
the river towards Newport, the bridge
ot which she trusted would stop her
progress, or its inhabitants be alarmed
at her cries. In both her hopes, how
ever, she was disappointed; the rapid
ity of a spring tide sent her through
the arch with the velocity of an arrow
discharged from the bow, and the good
people of the town had been long wrapt
in slumber. Thus situated, hen’ pros
pect became each moment more des
perate ; her candle was nearly extin
guished, and every limb so benumbed
with cold, that she had the greatest
difficulty to keep her seat. Already
had she reached the mouth of the Usk,
and was on the point of encountering
the turbulent waves of the British chan
nel, when the master of a fishing boat,
discovered the gleaming of her taper,
and heard her call for assistance ; and
after a considerable struggle between
humanity and superstition, ventured at
length to approach the floating wonder,
and brought Mrs. Williams safely to
the shore in his boat.
A NR CD 0 TR S.
A clergyman being deprived for non
conformity, said to his friends, “ That
if he was turned out of the church, it
might cost a hundred men their lives.”
This strange speech being noticed
abroad, he was summoned before a ma
gistrate, and thus explained it. If I
lose my benefice, I shall practice phys
ic; and then! may, if I kill
more than an hundred.
A country squire asked his son, who
had just come from school, what was
meant by a circular letter ? Why father,
it is a round letter, sent round the coun
try, v/ith a round. seal, and often ailed
with rouna-übvut things.
The New-Hollanders observe no par
ticular ceremony in their marriages,
though their mode of courtship is not
without its singularity. When a young
man sees a female to his fancy, he in
forms her she must accompany him
home ; if the lady refuses, he not only
enforces compliance with threats, but
wit!) blows ; thus the gallant, according
to the custom, never fails to gain the
victory, and bears off the willing tho’
struggling pugilist. The colonists for
some time entertain) d the idea that wo
men were compelled and forced away
against their 'consent; but the young
ladies informed them, that this mode of „
gallantry was the custom, and perfectly
to their taste.
lA VALUABLE TRACT OF LAND,
Wiil be Sold,
On thr first Tuesday in October next, at
the Court-house in Columbia county,
to the highest bidder :
TWO hundred and ninety Acres of
Land, be the same more cr less,
which said tract of land being a part of
the real estate of David Perryman, dec.
lying on the Great Kiokee creek, near
the Court-house, adjoining Col. John
Appli >g, and others—one hundred
acres of said land is now- in cultiva
tion, with a good mill ti e-eon, and a
good spring, with a thriving Apple Or
chard— Ihe terms will be made known
on the day of Sule.
Elisha Perryman, Adm’r.
On Saturday the 13 th cf September next ,
at the late residence of Dixon Perry
man, dec. part of the personal estate
of said deceased.
TWO negroes, Sam and Mourning,
two guns, a Watch, a su of Sur
veyor’s Instruments, and o'her ai ti< les
too tedious to mention, will be sold to
the highest bidder—Terms of sale,
made know n on the day of sale.
Da?,id Stanford , 7 r -
Elisha Perryman , 5 i ' x ’ rs *
Columbia County. £
July 26, 1306.' 1_ “
Administrator's sale .
On Saturday the 1 Zth of September next,
at the late residence of Dixon Perry
Will be Sold,
THE whole of the personal estate
of Jeremiah Perryman, deceased:
To wit, one negro man, two horses,
one set Black Smiths tools, two guns,
and one hand saw—Terms of sale, •
made known on the day of sale.
Elisha Perryman , Adm’r.
July 26. I__
■NO i 1C Ik.
All persons indebted to the estate
of the late Dixon Perryman, cf
the county of Columbia, are dtsireu to
come forward and make payment—
those who have claims against said es
tate, will forward them w ithin the time
prescribed by law fer payment.
David Stanford , ?ip
Elisha Perryman , x rs *
July 26. i
GEORGIA, Rich / irmd County.
AT a meeting of the Honorable the
Inferior Court , cti Monday the 7th Ju
Present — John Course,
ON the application of William But
ler, stating that he is confined in
the custody of the Sheriff, under a bail
writ, issued at the suit of Michael and
| John Conrad, 8c Co. and that he is un
-1 able to pay the debt or give bail for the
same, and praying the benefit of the
act passed fur the relief of insolvent
ORDERED, That the said William
Butler notify his creditors either in per
son or by giving sixty days notice in
the Augusta Chronicle and Columbian
Centinel, previous to the first Monday
in October next, at which lime an ex
amination will be had, and a discharge
granted, if no cause is shewn to the
contrary ; and the Sheriff is hereby
commanded to have the body of the
said Williatp Butler before us, at 11
o’clock, at the Court-house, on the
said first Monday in October next.
Taken from the Minutes.
MATTHEW FOX, Cl'k.
July 12. 55