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About Columbian centinel. (Augusta, Ga.) 18??-???? | View Entire Issue (Sept. 23, 1809)
POETICAL SELECTIONS. TO THI ADVOCATES OF WAR. By Mr. WiHton, Editor of the “ Watchman.'' O YE, who fillthe throne of power, Who speak and millions must obey Who reign the monirchs of an hour, And rise dictators of the day. Think, while the trumpet’s clam’rous breath, Re-echoesthrough the regions round What scenes of agony and death Await the inharmonious sound. O join not then, with hasty rage, The tumults which are heard from far, But shun the dissolating stage, O shun the guilty walks of war ! Think, while the thund’ring cannon s , roar, And while the waving faulchion plays, [jow carnage wades thro’ streams of gore, And grins amid the steely blaze. Ah, vain are'words to paint the woes Which hauntthe crouded field ofblood, Not all that rhetoric bnstows Can trace the sanguinary flood. The thousands of the mighty slain, Who sleep upon the-martial shore, Tho’ they have felt the wound of pain, They heave the languid sigh nomore. But ifyour thot’lessmind would know, Or can endure of more to hear, To widows and to orphans go, And mark the never-ceasing tear. Read in the groans that rend the heart, Read in the tears thatceasless roll, What words are powerless to impart, The speechless angush of the soul. O think of these and shun the blade That darts its sickly beams afar, And shun the dark impen ling shade That hovers o’er the scenes of war. [The following beautiful story in which we find religion introduced as a feel ing, & an eloquent appeal made to the sentiments of the heart, isextrac ted from a valuable periodical work published in some years since,] MORE than forty years ago, an English philosopher, whose works hare since been read and admired by all Europe, resided at a little town in France. Some disappointments in his native country had first driven him a broad, and he was afterwards in duced to remain there, from hav ing found, in this retreat, where the connections even of nation and language were avoided, a per fect seclusion and retirement highly favorable to the develope mcnt of abstract subjects, in which he excelled all the writers of his time. Perhaps, in the structure of such a mind as Mr. ’s, the liner mid more delicate sensibili ties are seldom known to have place, or, if originally implanted there, are in a great measure ex tinguished by the exertions of in tense study and profound investi gation. Hence the idea of philo sophy and unfeelingness being united has become proverbial, and in common language, the former word is often used to express the latter. Our philosopher has been censured by some, as deficient in warmth and feeling: but the mild ness of his manners has been al lowed by all; and it is certain, that, if he was not easily melted into compassion, it was, at least not difficult to awaken his bene volence. One morning, while he sat bu- sied in those speculations which afterwards astonished the world, an old female domestic, who ser ved him for a house-keeper, bro’t him word, that an elderly gentle man and his daughter had arrived in the village, the preceeding e vening, on their way to some di stant country, and that the father had been seized in the night with a dangerous disorder, which the ’ people of the inn where they lod ged feared would prove mortal; that she had been sent for, as ha ving some knowledge in medi cine, the village- surgeon being then absent; and that it was tru ly piteous to see the good old man, who seemed not so much afflicted by his own distress as by that which it caused to his daugh ter.—Her master laid aside the volume in his hand, and broke off the chain of ideas it had inspi red. His night-gown was cx ' changed for a coat, and he fol lowed his gouvernantc to the sick man’s apartment. ’Twas the best in the little inn where they lay, but a paltry one notwithstanding. Mr. was obliged to stoop as he enter ed it. It was floored with earth, and above were the joists not plastered, and hung with cob webs.—On a fiock-bed, at one end, lay the old man he came to visit; at the foot of it sat his daughter. She was dressed in a clean white bed-gown; her dark locks hung loosely over it as she bent forward, watching the lan guid looks of her father. Mr. and his housekeeper had stood some moments in the room without the young lady’s being sensible of their entering it. “Mademoiselle!” said the old woman at last, in a soft tone— She turned and showed one of the finest faces in the world.—lt was touched, not spoiled w ith sorrow, and when she perceived a stran ger, whom the old woman now introduced to her, a blush at first, and then the gentle ceremonial of native politeness, which the af fliction of the time tempered but did not extinguish, crossed it for a moment, and changed its ex pression. Twas sweetness all, however, and our philosopher felt it strongly. Ir was not a time for words ; he offered his services in a few sincere ones “ Mon sieur lies miserably ill here,” said the gouvernante; “Ifhe could be moved any where.”—“lf he “ could possibly be moved to our “house,” said her master, “ —He had a spare bed for a friend, and there was a garret room unoccu pied, next to the governante’s. It was contrived accordingly. The scruples of the stranger, who could look scruples, though he could not speak them, were overcome, and the bashful re luctance of his daughter gave way to her belief of its use to her fa ther. The sick man was wrapt up in blankets, and carried across the street to the English gentle man’s. The old woman helped his daughter to nurse him there. The surgeon, who arrived soon after, prescribed a little, and na ture did much for him ; in a week he was able to thank his benefac tor. By that time his host had lear ned the name and character of his guest. He was a protestant clergyman of Switzerland, called La Roche , a widower who had lately buried his wife, after a long and lingering illness, for which t»avelling had been prescribed, and was now returning home, af ter an ineffectual and melancholy journey, with his only child, the daughter we have mentioned. He was a devout man, as be came his profession. He pos sessed devotion in all its warmth, but with none of its asperity ; I mean that asperity which men, called devout, sometimes indulge in. Mr. , though he felt no devotion, never quarrelled with it in others.—His gouvernante joined the old man and his daugh ter in the prayers and thanksgiv ings which they put up on his re covery; for she, too, was a here tic, in the phrase of the village. •——The philosopher walked out with his long staff and his dog, and left them to their prayers and thanksgivings—My master” —said the old woman, “ alas !he is not a Christian ; but he is the best of unbelievers.” “Not a Christian! ” exclaimed Ma demoiselle La Roche , “ yet he “ saved my father! Heaven bless “ him for’t; I would he were a ‘ ‘ Christian! ” “ There is a pride “in human knowledge, my “ child,” said her father, which “ often blinds men to the sublime “ truths of revelation; hence op ‘ ‘ posers of Chritianity are found “among men of virtuous lives, “ as well as among those of dissi “ pated and licentious characters. “ Nay, sometimes, I have known “ the latter more easily conver “ ted to the true faith than the “ former, because the fume of “ passion is more easily dissipa “ ted than the mist of false theo “ ry and delusive speculation.”— “ But Mr. ,”said his daugh ter, “ alas! my father, he shall “ be a Christian before he dies.” —She was interrupted by the arrival of their landlord.——He took her hand witli an air of kindness She drew it away from him in silence; threw down her eyes to the ground, and left the room. “ I have been thanking God,” said the good La Roche , “ for my recovery.” “ That is right.” replied his landlord—“ I would not wish, “ continued the old man, hesi “ tatingly, to think otherwise; “ did I not look up with gratitude “ to that Being, I should barely “ be satisfied with my recovery “ as a continuation of life, w hich “ it may be, is not a real good: “ —Alas! I may live to wish I “ had died, that you had left me “ to die, Sir, instead of kindly “ relieving me (he clasped Mr. “ ’s hand); —but, when I “ look on tins renovated being “as the gift of the Almighty, I “ feel a far different sentiment— “ my heart dilates with gratitude “ and love to him: it is prepared “ for doing his will, not as a du “ty but as a pleasure, and re “ gards every breach of it, “ not with disapprobation but “ with horror.”—You say right, “my dear Sir,” replied the phi losopher ; “ but you are not yet “ re-established enough to talk “ much—you must take care of “your health, and neither study *‘norpreach for some time. I “ have been thinking over a “ scheme that struck me to-day, “when you mentioned your in “ tended departure. I never was “ in Switzerland ; I have a great “mind to accompany your daugh “ ter and you into that coun “ try .—I will help to take care of “ you by the road ; for, as I w r as “ your first physician, I hold “ myself responsible for your “ cure.” La Roche's eyes glis tened at the proposal; his daugh ter was called in and told of it. She was equally pleased with her ' father; for they really loved th Cii landlord—not perhaps the less for his infidelity; at least that cir cumstance mixed a sort of pity with their regard for him---their souls were not of a mould for harsher feeling's; hatred never dwelt in them." y Stop Thief and Runaway. RUNAWAY. FROM the subscriber on the iSth inst. a Negro Man named Aaron, brought from Maryland by capt. Cl. Sibald, and sold to the late G. Walker, Esq. lie is about 40 years of age, has a full suit of hair winch he commonly keeps well combed, speaks slowly, C mcl is very artful. He took oft a bright bay gelding, in prime order, about 14 hands high, 7 years old, with small and rather sunken eyes , the brand on the Horse stands thus S. I. and a flower de luce, the horse is spirited, and walks and trots fast. It is supposed he will wear an old blue frise surtout—he took a bridle, 8c coarse country made saddle, and a blanket with a bundle containing a livery coat, made of a striped light drab coloured brown Caeiitiere, togeth er with sundry articles of good cloath ing. A reward of six and a quarter cents besides, all expences will be paid for ap prehending and lodging him in any se cure jail in the United States, and twenty dollars for the horse, saddle and bridle and bundle of clothing, on deliv ery. to Seaborn jones. Augusta, Geo. August 21, 1809. StopThiefl Stolen FROM the stable of the subscriber, on the night of the 20th ultimo, a dark brown horse, about fifteen hands high, spare made, and about eight years old, a blaze on the forehead, several white spots on the weathers, occasion ed by the saddle, both hind feet white, a natural trotter, rides and draws with great spirit. A reward of TWENTY DOLLARS, with all reasonable charg es, will be paid for the horse alone, and TEN DOLLARS for apprehending the thief. BENJAMIN HALL. September 2. 8 10 Dollars Reward. RUNAWAY on the 24th April last my Negro Fellow HARRY, commonly called HARRY or Col. MELTON, well known in Augusta and Savannah, and on the river as a boat hand, having for many years been in that employment, his preference of which is supposed to be the cause of his elopement—He has been seen in Sa vannah and Augusta lately, as well as plying between those places—all per sons are forbid harboring or employ ing him under the most severe penal ties of the law. Harry is of a yellow complexion, low, but stout built and ac tive, stutters in talking, particularly when in liquor, of which he is fond, he has a wife at Mr. Andrew Low’s, Sa vannah. The above reward will be paid to any person delivering Harry to me, or securing him in any Jail so as I get him, all reasonable expences will be also paid by Wm. F. TAYLOR. Camjibellton , August 26. 7 Change of Position. Tiros. Quizzenberry RETURNS his sincerestthanks to his friends and the public in genera! for the liberal encouragement he has received since he commenced business in this City ; and now informs them, that he has removed from his old stand, and occupies the house, on B<’oad street, ' in which Messrs. Brux k Pgpk lately kept their store, three doors below th« City Hotel, where he stiil carries on the SadihiP' Business o in all its various branches. Work ex ecuted in the neatest and best manner, • and on the shortest notice. September 2. *—
