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• ID'IOT.
From a Philadelphia Paper.
The venerable and excellent Mr. William Ca
rev, of London, the eminent critic in the Fine
Aris, has favored us with the following lines on
liis own sensations. After three score and ten,
one may egotize with singular grace and propriety.
He who is looking to the time as near at hand
when he shall sleep at the foot of life’s hill, “hath
much privilege to speak of himself.”
SEVENTY-NINE.
In body feeble and decay’d ;
Worn to the shadow of a shade,—
Not wholly blind, for 1 have sight
Enough to know the day from night;
Not wholly deaf—for I can hear
The thunder, pealing in my car;
Not wholly dumb—for I can make
A shift to whistle when awake;
Not wholly toothless, lor in truth,
I mumble with a single tooth :
Not all forgetting, I remember
Frost, snow, and hail, in last December-
Though memory, when wanted most,
Too often slumbers on her post;
My hod ifs loss , I gladly find
Repaid with interest, in mind;
My reas'tiing faculty, more clear,
Acquires new force, from year to year;
No change affects iny cheerful temper;
In spite of pain and suffering, “Sempur
Kadem still in converse ready;
In public purpose prompt aud steady ,
In lively strain iny friends amusing ;
Or topics of instruction choosing ;
In thirst the chrystal stream 1 prize,
And temperance fifty board supplies.—
Much evil of mankind we read,
Os many a dark and hateful deed, .
Rut when the good and bad are weighed,
And with impartial eyes survey’d,
How come* it that the Wise and Brave,
Are loath this w icked world to leave ?
I love the sunny, joyous side,
And deem the world is much belied ;
With patience hear each monstrous tuiVifiur
And meet the times with trank good humour.
Enjoy a laugh and harmless jest
And hold whatever is as best.
The envied happiness is mine,
Pm young in heart , at Seven'ty-nise.
And should th’ Omnipotent decree
A little longer date to me ;
Long as I have a blink of sight,
A glimmer left to reau and write,
Long as my hand a pen can guide,
Hy hours shall be, as now applied;
’' »viead her cause at Freedom’s shrine ;
‘ ' -'cate the Arts divine;
j\ n< ai * v “ . birth, in bright array,
tvw Genius .. • -Aness into day,
1 rom friendless da.
And in a pleasant fair sci. 1
The social virtues inculcate ;
Dr, with a typo graphical spell,
The wonders of creation tell
And the Eternal Volume quote
To savage ;uan, in climes remote.
The future must he like the past ;
l would be useful to th<? as •
And when my mortal cot Use .
Gn sea or land, God’s will be ’.
Well pleas’d to live—to die resign «»
My pray’r the good of all mankind.
Wm. CARL A.
Philadelphia U. S. July 10, 1838.
Ts mv e "’Ut .of spirits V said John, with a sigh,
w,lc •* , f ~ tempest gave warning:
As her voice o ' ’ said the maid in reply,
bfinte out, sir, indc *’, this morning.’
‘I or she,finished iht
tn . change his state,
* om prais'd his friend, who - ,^ e
I or binding fast himself and Ka.
In union so divine.
•‘Wedlock’s the end of life,’ he cried . __
'loo true, alas!’ said Jack, and sigh’d,-
“Twill be the end of mine.”
A judge did once liis t ipstaff call,
And say, ‘Sir, I desire
1 ou go forthwith and search the hall,
And send me ; n the crier.’
‘And search, my lord, in vam I may,*
Hie tipstaff gravely said :
_ .The crier cannot ery to day,
p ?ause his wife is dead,'
ms*
From the Philadelphia Visiter.
Glycoii, the 4»i*ecian.
A tale of Rome's evil days .
BY HENRY F. HORRINGTON.
CHAPTER I—THE COMPACT.
The senators of Rome issued from the Senate
House. There was a gloom of indignation on
their faces, for Donntian the emperor, had that
day dared to oiler to their sacred body assembled
in solemn meeting, a degrading and unpardonable
insult. They retired in knots, discoursing in low
whispers—and there was that in the countenances
of many which betrayed the deeply wounded
spirit, and the bitter thirst lor revenge. There
was somewhat of virtue yet remaining amid the
degradation of Romans.
The venerable Marcellus was one of these.—
He was a true lover of his falling country —he
wept for the days that were gone.
“Lentulus,” said he to liis companion, “come
thou with me.”
The two hastened to the palace of the senator—
and in his private apartment they conversed long
and earnestly. When Lentulus rose to depart,
Marcellus grasped his baud, aud said in fervent
tones—
“ Thou wilt assuredly be true to me—to thyself,
and to Rome.”
“Ever,” was the ready answer; “this hour will
I seek our friends.”
“Wilt thou so? Then let the emperor be
ware.”
CHAPTER II.—THE HERO.
The lady Livia the daughter of the proud Sen
ator, Marcus Livius Marcellus, of whom I have
already spoken a descendant of one of the noblest
families of Rome, sat in the garden of her father’s
palace, upon the marble steps leading to the statue
of Hebe. She had stolen unobserved from her
apartment, and now with her arm upon the step
above her, ami her cheek resting upon her hand,
she watched the closed entrance—her eye glis
tening with joyous expectation. She was beauti
ful—softly beautiful. She was not robed in that
brightness of expression which commands the ad
miring gaze; but there was in her, and around
•her, that retiring modesty, that voluptuous grace
of form, and action, and feature, which gladly win
the, enraptured sight, and staifip a living image
upon the soul. Her hair was of a pale golden
thus in accordance with the taste of
tire Roman ladies of her time, hut so tinged by
the hand of Nature; and it fell in ringlets over
ner neck, only bound by a single ribbon—in that
too, differing from her compers, in as much as the
sweet purity ot nature was set in contrast
with the stiffnees of art. Her eye was blue, soft,
and changing; her features small but regular
with a tinge of subdued melancholly in their
brightness, ller ornaments were ot the richest
gems—and her robe of the costly Indian silk,
shone in its twice dyed Tyrian hue.
It was near sunset, and the rich rays ot the de
parting orb rested on the gorgeous palaces and
decorated temples of the mighty Rome—mighty
even in its fall—and shed a lustre round the mar
ble walls of the lofty Capitol. All was still—and
the lady Livia caught magic inspiration from the
beauty of nature, arid often rose from herseat, and
gazed in rapture around; but she as often sunk
down again, and bent her nrild gaze steadfastly
upon the entrance to the garden. I here was a
sound—she started —yes, an armed heel trod the
tessailated pavements. A crimson hue, that rival
led the tint of her robe, mantled upon her trans
parent cheek, and her bosom heaved. Hie gate
opened, and with a light yet ringing step, for he
was clad in complete armour, Glycon, the captain
of Domitian’s body guild, the favoured of his
jjijuce, the bravest man in Lome, stood beluie
her. , ,
She rose. Delight—glowing delight was pic
tured on her face, and as lie twined his arms aroud
her, and pressed her to his bosom : she looked
into his eyes, and while all the lervor ot woman s
love was glistening in her own, slic sottly mur
mured—
“My Glycon—thou hast returned.’
“My sweet, sweet Livia, yes; after a month s
long absence, yet true to thee as ever. Come, let
us sit, my love. Ere I pay my obeisance to my
master, I w ill spend an hour with thee.”
They sat down side by side, and oonveised of
love, and were happy in the vows of each other; and
then they spoke of the past and of the future— of
themselves. It would seem to have been a pleas
ant subject, but as they conversed, Glycon’s smile
faded, and a sad frown usurped its place. Livia
was alarmed. . .
“My Glycon—what ails thee ? Vby site that
frown upon thy brow? , T f
»Mv own Livia, 1 fear for our happiness; I fear
for the peace of Rome. This day did the em
peror convene the senate, and when that grave
body were assembled he would have their opinions
on some matter of cookery-the messing of a
♦urbot—and they burn with indignation. Ihy
I f athC r was there.' I saw his swelling anger and
, • ;„<r shame. My Livia though he has snnled
»■« "»* -
„ ho serve, the do,t then serve him."
-r ,he h ° ,J
alter of Jupiter. H® rphou hast never told
“Domitian saved thy me . x
th u*Twas°bat forgetfulness. 1 lived, thou know
the soldiers visited our them kind-
thcn--- of wh at they stood in
lly ’ A Sometimes there came among them one_
•v" e<l 'ius;a captain, and he beguiled the heart ot
Che..
Hyala t y*,gentle stsrer...
u ; , dS ‘ thou a sister!”
lost! wr;ir her nnt ■ she * ] °^
f forgive me these, tears, butr-1
FLORENCE, GA. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 1838.
! loved her most dearly—l would have treasured
her in my heart. But she has tied with the villaiu
Rhetius—fled for ever. That outrage, and the
sting of other wrongs, maddened a trampled peo
ple. We rose to revenge our disgrace—but, alas,
—the Grecian name alone was left us; the Gre
cian heart of steel, the Grecian honor were gone.
We were soon conquered, and 1, with others, was
brought to Rome. All } perished save myself.
The emperor preserved me. Gratitude is strong,
Livia.”
“U, Glycon, where is thy poor, poor sister?—
Speak thou nol so harshly of her. IS he loved, iny
Glycon”—aud Livia looked up in her lover’s face,
and clung to his bosom.
“She fled in dishonour with the Roman.”
“She loved, she loved. Thou canst not estimate
woman’s love. Where, where is she ?’*
“i know not. I never sought her.”
“Forgive her. Thou wilt forgive her.”
“Never.”
“His tone was firm and decided, and Livia only
sobbing, “PoorHyala!” wept bitterly.
Glycon rose to dr part. He placed his burnish
ed helment upon his head; and Ins tall, manly
form, displayed as it-was by liis closely fitting ar
mor, and his bland, generous, yet noble features,
made the bosom of Livia glow with pride that he
should be her own. She wiped away her tears,
and throwing herself upon liis breast, twined her
arms about his neck, while he strained her in a
close embrace.
“Farewell, my Livia, the gods be with thee,
and watch over thee. Farewell!”—and the sol
dier left the garden.
As he strode through the hall of the palace, a
slave intercepted him.
“My master would speak with thee—wilt thou
follow’ ?
The slave led the way to a small apartment ad
joining the hall, where sat the senator. The noble
Marcellus, who inherited with his naiae the pride
and virtue of his ancestors, often wept over the
ignominy of Rome, the prostration of her power,
the stain upon herhonm, the scorn that greeted
her name, lie would have raised the cry of “Lib
erty—the republic!” in every street. He would
have bid the eagle of the republic spread its broad
wings once more above the polluted capitol. He
would have hurled defiance at Rome’s tyrants.
But Rome was debased—enslaved; and the days
of her glory were not destined again to greet the
eyes of the despairing patriot. As Glycon en
tered, he rose to welcome him, and the soldier
doffed Iris helmet, and bent low in reverence of
the venerable man. Marcellus spoke;—
“Glycon, thou lovest my daughter.”
“As 1 love my honor-”
“Well. She loves thee, Glycon.”
“Yes—yes—-the gods be thanked,”
“Thou saidst thy honor. Thou treasurest thy
honor, then ?”
The cheek of the Grecian glow ed and his lip
quivered— while a frown gathered on his brow.
“Does the noble Marcelles suspect me ?”
“No—no—young man—thou servest an hon
orable master.”
The crimson on Glycon’s cheek became dee
per.
“Didst thou send for me that thou mightst in
sult me?”
•‘Nay—be calm. Ibnoraole because he is the
emperor of Rome,”
Glycon’s thoughts revetted to his master’s char
acter, the insults he had that day given to the sen
ate, and he felt that he needed to offer an excuse
for his devotion to him.
“Most noble Marcellus,” said he, “Domitian
saved my life.”
“Ha! * well. For this thou servest him ?”
“Yes—yes. For this I have been ready to die
in his defence.”
“So—so! I like thee—l like thee—come again
—often. I will converse with thee more anon.—
Farwell.”
After these few words, Glycon departed. The
old senator stood awhile in musing thought—then
he paced the room.
•‘Yes, yes; gratidude—honor—well—very
well! Captain of the emperor’s private guard
my daughter’s lover—his own tried bravery—
yes—very well."
And thus speaking lie left the apartment.
CHATTER 111—THE SISTER.
The informer Matiio, the most detested man
in Rome save his patron the emperor, met Glycon
as he wended his wav to Domitian's palace, after
the conversation described in the last chapter.
“Ha, good Glycon, returned ? I am glad to
see thee. Thou has conquered the people thou
wast sent against. Thou’lt be better loved than
before. I envy thee!”
The malignaut look, but illy concealed beneath
his fawning smile, betrayed that he envied him,
indeed. Glycon glanced at him with contempt,
but cautiously suppressing his feelings, he re
plied—
“ Yes, Matho, returned. Ilow fares the great
emperor?”
“lie prospers. Ha—how finly he tricked the
grey beard senatovs-to day ! I saw thee there.—
How they did wiu«®’Twas delightful. But
I’m bound upon an erranfl, adieu!”
He passed on, Glycon continued k; s way, won
dering what could be the import of the few words
addressed to him by the father ol Levia. As fie
strode along, the citizens whom he met bent low
before him in debased servility, for lie was the
captain of the emperor’s body guard ; and scorn
overcome gratified pride in our hero’s breast
scorn of the gnvelling offspring of noble ances
tors—and thenhe heaved a sigh—a deep sigh of
anguish for the debasement of his dwn storied and
honored Greece, whose sun had set in eternal
n i„ht. Rome lad ground his country into the
dust; Rome hal placed her iron foot upon the
soil of his glorious heme; and somewhat of hate
f was mingled with his scorn.
His sister™naturnlly did he think of her, sadly
J—otmugasbe was,of the degradation of liis home,
«>vide he rushed on. More bit
' *-ute3. ! leheed *
ed not friend or stranger—and with a heartfelt
curse upon the name of Rhetius, and a clenching
of his teeth that betrayed some desperate pur
pose, he entered the gate of the emperor’s pal
ace.
*o**B
I will now convey the reader to an apartment of
that palace, the chamber of the Rhetius. It is
night, and he is alone within it—reclining upon
a couch ; aud while he seems, at times, to slum
ber, his quick starts, when any sound, however
slight, disturbs the silence, betray an anxious
watchfulness. His features are stern, yet beauti
fully regular; while much of elevation is impar
ted to his countenance by the Vroad expansion of
his forehead. He could smile—with a sweetness
that took the feelings by storm. It was his noble
forehead that threw into the shade the fearful
developeinents of avarice and passion. It was
that smile which stole and fettered the gentle heart
of she dark-eyed Grecian—the lost, the wretched
Hyala.
Rhetius soon rose from his recumbent position,
and as he sate with folded arms, looking intently
at the dim lamp which threw a pale light around,
that deceitful smile wreathed itself about his fea
tures, and thus he communed with himself:
“Yes—yes—the girl will be of worth to me
The emperor will well pay me for giving her to
him, and in his search for new pleasures, will
soon cast her back again; and then—yes—Lucius
shall have her. He loves a dark eye, and a pearly
skin like hers, and he shall fill ray roflfcis —the
foolish spendthrift. O, rare , «'- K that I found her!
comes she not T fehe would not dare to be
coy wh»n I so sternly bade her yield. No; she
foves me—me alone of all on earth, and will do
as I have bid”—and the villain’s smile grew deep
er, that he could use such lovs for his demon
purposes.
The door opened, and a female entered, with a
step so light that it seemed not mortal. Yet she
trod slowly and wearily. Her head was bent, and
her dark hair, unbound, fell down dishevelled over
her neck and bosom, that heaved with her painful
breathing. She advanced toward, the couch on
which Rhetitus still, sat, with arms outstretched
to receive her, aud when she had come near to
him, she stood still. Faintness seemed to be
stealing through her frame and palsying her
strength. With wreak power, she piessed her
hands upon her eyes, and then clasping them be
fore her, looked into the face of her betrayer
ami a loud, long, agonized shriek issued from her
lips, telling so dreadful a tale of wo, that the sen
tinel in the hall beyond started and grasped his
spear, and the hardened soldiers by the gates, who
had often heard such sounds in that gilded abode
of crime, smiled grimly in each other’s tace. It
was the utterance of a broken heart-—and Hyala
fell senseless upon the floor.
Rhetius placed her upon the couch, and ap
plying restoratives, bent over her in wily craft, and
tried to recover lier by endearing caresses, and
tones of sorrowing love. He well knew the hu
man heart, and he succeeded. She grasped, and
her eyes opened. For a few moments, her senses
wandered. A faint smile played about her lips,
and she murmured the name of her native village,
and of her beloved brother. When reason came
again, and she felt all the horror of her stiuation,
she calmly rose and stood up. Despair—hope
less, guilty despair wqa painted on her features.
Her eye was bloodshoiten and wildly bright—her
che«k of a startling paleness, and a cold shiver
ran through lier frame. Rhetius was alarmed,
and would have spoken soothingly—-but the mis
erable girl motioned him to keep silence, and then,
in calm, hollow tones, she said—
“O, Rhetius, Rhetius —what hast thou made of
me!”
The sound of her voice restored the callousness
of the monster by her side, who had feared she
was dying ; and he answered—
“ Na y—nay, Hyala, thou wilt not upbraid me;
I love thee still—as much as ever. Arouse thee,
Hyala—this is foolishness.”
Hyala remained yet before him, her eye wan
dering around, and seemed not to hear his words;
for when he had ended, she only replied, with a
mournful shake of her head, as if agony had stolen
her senses —
“Rhetius, Rhetius, what has thou made of
me!”
“Girl,” answered he, “thou lias done nothing
more than the Roman women do every day.—
Away with this grieving. Rethink thee —it is an
honor to thee that the emperor of Rome has
smiled upon thee ! and more—it has added gold -
much gold to thy lover's coffers. Ha ! ha! Thou
shalt partake of it, and—and—thou shall visit
the prince again, iny Hyala”—and he kissed
At these words she fell down upon her knees
before him, and clasped her hands in mute
supplication—as white and still as the marble
statues that adorned the apartment. In the act,
a circlet of the richest gems, wrought in the finest
cold, partly escaped from beneath the bosom ot
her robe, aud glittered in the light. Rhetius dar
ted upon it with smile of joy; and drawing it
forth, he strode to the lamp, and examined it with
a scrutinizing eve. 1 lien he held it up in admi
ration.
“My good, dear Hyala—so thou didst not re
fuse his gift ? I know I bade thee not, and thou
hast obeyed me. I thank thee. ’Tis worth the
fortune of the proudest senator of Rome ! How
sparkle the diamonds and pearls! O glorious
prize !”—and as he placed the dazzling chain
with his ill-gotten riches, he muttered to himself.
“The girl shall go again!”
There was i knock at the door of the room.—
It was a messenger from the emperor command
ing the presence of Rhetius, and bidding Hyala
to be of good cheer, he hastened to obey the snm
mons.
To be continued.
Friendly Umpire. —Every man should have a
friend ready to call in when he quarrels with his
wife, to make the contending parties put on for de
cency’s sake, the appearance of a good understan
ding, which will help to bring about the reality.
Yol. I. —No. 26.
WIVES
BY miss anSa maria arg a!»t.
Os the different re loti tships woman is called
upon by nature to bear nth toward her own and
the opposite sex, perhaps iere is none in which
she stands so prominent i. that of a wife. Asa
daughter she sustains an interesting character and
beautiful is it to behold her fulfilling the filial
duties with reverence and love. Asa sister many
of *be most pleasing and gentle traits may be dev
eloped. Asa mother she is placed in a situation
of the utmost importance, and wh*re new and
delightful feelings are awakened into existence.
But it is us a wife she is most regarded by the world,
and for that character all the energies of her nature
appear to be brought into action.
At her creation the duties of a wife wer* the
first she was called upon to fulfil, and eloquent ie
the description our master-poet has given of her
in that relationship—where scripti re ie silent, he,
as with a sunbeam, has portrayed her w all the
holiness of cristine purity, and even after her fall
touchingly beautiful, is the iepresentation of her
penitence, and willingness to bear the whole weight
of her offended Maker’s ire.
In the situation of wife all the great and enno
bling virtues, as well as all the gentle and
affections which perfain to the character,
may be exhibited. Tv.» urst and most prominent
is her faithf» ,uc3B l many are the instances history
and biography record, but there are many whom
none but a circumscribed few are acquainted with,
where unostentatious but unconquerable devo
tion to its object meet alone the reward it seeks:
Woman is generally esteemed timid and retiring;
and as such she lays the greatest claim upon man;
as such in the ordinary afi'airs of life she is in her
most attractive character, but there are situations
were she puts outhe noble courage of the lion, in
stead of the gentleness of the lamb, and it is us
ually brought into exercise by the strength of her
affection as a wife. Frequently is she knownto
stem the rough torrent of adversity for liis sake,
when all the world beside many have forsaken him.
Yes, in the midst of deepest despair, she is to be
seen whispering peace and consolation, and shed
ding a halo around the dark chaos of his soul.
But the milder and passive virtues are more com
monly exhibited, and lor these every hour in the
day must give scope. The variety of little disap
pointments and vexations, which ol necessity oc
cur, (to man more especially, from his greater in
tercourse with the world,) not unusually renders
the temper somwhat irritable, but it is the duty
and pleasure of the amiable and affectionate wife
to endeavor to soften this irritability by sweetness
and forbearance, by showing her willingness to
promote his happiness however the world may
frown—her tenderness and affection unchanged
however others friends may desert—she will by
self-denial seek to advance liis pleasure, by candor
dispel all doubts that might darken his confidence,
and by genorosity of thought and word and deed,
prove her every interest is swallowed up in his.
By many picture of woman’s devotedness may
be deemed too highly colored, but I have seen her,
in the character of wife, all that I have described ;
1 have seen her trying to smile away the distress
es of him to whom her heart and life was devoted,
and when that has failed, I have seen her answer
only by a fear, a silent, eloquent tear, not intended
as a reproof; but which has effected what all lier
smiles may hare failed to accomplish; I have seen
her by the exercise of moral courage bearing all
the sterner duties, and shaking off the retiring
timidity ot her nature, to supply Ins want of pow
er; I have seen her denying herself all the luxuries
comforts, nay, almost necessaries of life, to pro
mote his pleasure and well-being ; I have seen her
beside his couch in the hour ol sickness, endur
ing fatigue with uncomplaining patience.—Yea,
all this aud far more 1 have seen wrought from
the pure essence of woman’s love.
In the breast of that woman where vanity is the
leading characteristic (and unhappily the modern
system of female education too often fosters this
disgusting evil) the virtues such as we have des
cribed, cannot be expected to dwell. She who,
either as a maiden or wile, pants for admiration,
and to gain it will wound the feelings or ruin the
peace of another, is altogether incapable of the
generous sentiment which alone deserves the name
of love. Avarice is a still more odious inhabitant;
the bosom of lier who cherishes it must be totally
devoid of those soft affections we usually look for
in our sex ; and she reaps the reward she merits
when she sacrifices her principles and feelings by
a union of interest; the gold she has dearly pur
clirtnni] fails to procure the happiness she seeks,
and her heait becomes a chaos of evil passions and
disappointed hopes.
Hosv delightful is it to witness an oged couple
who have withered life’s storms hand-in-hand, and
smiled on each other amid them, even as in its
sunshine —whose pleasure in each other’s society
does not decrease because time has furrowed their
brows and divested them of the strength and beau
ty of youth ; to such a pair the past affords a fund
of exquisite joy, as it presents through memory’s
glass their early loves, and if religion opens to their
view the prospect of re-union after death in a
world where separation is not known, sweet and
easy must be their departure, and no cause have
they to regret that life’s day is on the decline.
Injuries From Friends.— Those who have their
joys have also their griefs in proportion ; and none
call extremly exalt or depress us but friends. The
harsh things which come from the rest of the world,
are met and repulsed with that spirit which every
honest man bears about him, for his own vindica
tion ; but unkindness in words or actions among
friends, affects us the first instant in the inmost
recesses of the soul. Indiflerent people, if I may
so speak, can wound us only in the heterogene
ous parts—main us in our legs or arms, but the
friend can make no pass but at the heart itselC
On the other side, the most important assistance;
the more well w ishes of a friend, give a man cour
age against the most prevailing force, of all kia.
euemies. It is here only that be enjoys aod
i fits to the quick* -