Newspaper Page Text
No. 47. Vol. IV.
DESCRIPTIVE.
From the London Evangelical Magazine for Feb
1823.
Dreadful Earthquake at Aleppo.
The following nifrralive of this most aw
ful calamity is from the pen ofMr. Benjamin
Barker, an agent of the British and Foreign
Bible Society, who was preserved almost
miraculously from the general destruction.
Garden of Ibrahim Jlga , near ike Ruins of
* Aleppo , Aug. 23, 1822.
With a heavy heart 1 take up my pen to
trace anew in my dejected mind, the most
dreadful of all events. The wounds of af
fliction must bleed afresh wiieo I recal to
iny memory the lamentations of fathers for
fheirchildren, of children for their fathers,
us husbands for their wives, and of wives for
their husbands, running naked from place to
place, imploring the protection of the Al
mighty ; or with their feeble hands trying,
amidst the falling ruins, to extricate them
selves and their relations.
On the night of the 13th of August about
half past nine o’clock, Aleppo, the third
city of the Ottoman empire,built entirely of
si6ne, was, in the space of a few seconds,
brought down to its foundations.
I was at that time asleep on the terrace
of my particular friend, Mr. Maseyk, who,
by the help of the Almighty, was mercifully
saved, with all his family.
About half an hour previous to the great
shock, a light one was felt, when I took the
precaution to draw my bed from under a
very high wall where it was placed. I
was soon awakened by the fall of that wall,
on the very spot where my bed had stood.
I sprang from my couch, and without wait
ing to dress myself, fled into the house,
which 1 found falling on all sides.
To remain in the house, or to take to
flight through the streets, amidst falling
houses, appeared to be equally dangerous.
I recommended my soul to God, aud em
braced the latter resolution. In conse
quence, I descended the back stairs of Mr.
Maseyk’s house, by the Amighty’s guidance,
for the great staircase fell at the same time.
The darkness of the night and the clouds
of dust that covered the atmosphere, pre
vented me from perceiving the stones ami
rubbish on the stairs which had fallen from
a part of the house, and consequently I was
precipitated into the court-yard on a dead
body.
Mow can I express my feelings at that
moment, ignorant on what body I had fal
len! 1 was half dead with fright and hor
ror. I afterwards learnt that it was a faith
ful servant v.ho a second before had de
scended those stairs, when some stones of
an adjoining Turkish houae fell on him and
killed bim.
I quitted that melancholy spot and like a
man deprived of his senses, ran amidst the
falling walls to the gate of the town, which
is sitnated some distance from my friend’s
house. It was on my road, among narrow
-streets, that I was destined to witness the
most horrible of scenes. The lights of the
Souses whose sides had fallen, exposed to
my view men and womeu clinging to ihe
ruined walls of their houses, holding their
children in their trembling arms; mangled
bodies lying under my feet, and piercing
cries of half buried people assailing my
ears; Christians, Jews, and Turks were
imploring the Almighty’s mercy in their re
spective tongues, who a minute before did
not perhaps acknowledge him.
After a gFeat deal of trouble and fatigue,
running among the ruins, l arrived exhaust
ed at the gate of the city, called Babelfan
ige, the earthquake still continuing. Cold
aad dreadfully bruised, and cut in my body
and feet, I fell on my kness among a con
course of people, to thank the Almighty for
my happy deliverance from the jatvs of
Mjf death. But the gate of the city was
shut; and no one dared to risk his life un
der its arch to open it. After recommend
ing my soul again to my Creator, I threw
myself on the gate. 1 felt in the dark aad
perceived that it was not locked, but the
great iron bars that went across the folding
doors were bent by the earthquake, and
the little strength I retained was not suffi
cient to force them. 1 went in quest of the
guards, but they were no more !
1 fell again on my knees before the Al
mighty, who alone could save me from the
immediate peri! of being crushed to death.
1 did notjorget in my prayers the misera
ble creatures around me. While I was in
that attitude, four or five Turks came near,,
and joined hands to pray in their accustom
ed way, calling out, “ Alla! Alla !” Having
insight my safety, and that of thousands of
individuals who crowded to the gate to es
cape, l made no more reflections, but be
gan to inlreat them in the name of God, to
help me to open the gate, in order to save
our lives and those of so many individuals
who were continually perishing before us.
The Lord inspired them with courage;
and, providing themselves with large stones,
according to my instructions, in a little time
they forced the bars, and opened the gate.
No sooner had I quitted it than a strong
shock of an earthquake crumbled it to pie
ces, and several Jews were killed by its
fall.
A new and affecting scene was now ex
hibited. A great concourse of people rush-
THE missionary.
ed out, and with one accord fell on their
knees to render thanks to the Almighty for
their preservation; but when the first
transports of joy were over, the thought of
having left buried or in danger of being
buried in the city their friends and relations,
made them pour such piercing lamentations
that the most hard-hearted person, would
have been penetrated with grief. I crept
as well as I could, about twenty yards, to a
place where I saw a group of people/ who
had saved themselves from the suburbs,
where no gales prevented their issuing out
of the town ; there I fell, half dead with
cold, and with the pain from my sores.
Two or three of those people who re
cognised me in that miserable condition,
immediately gave me a cloak, and brought
me a little water. When I recovered a
little my senses, I began to feel new suffer
ings of a uature too poignant to be described.
The thoughts of what might have befal
len my brother and his family, who were at
Antioch, and the cruel fate of my fnetids in
the.city, besides the melancholy objects
around me, people wounded, others lamen
ting the death of their relations others hav
ing before them their dying children taken
from under the ruins, preyed so strongly on
my mind, that not the pen of the ablest
writer can give fin adequate idea of my
feelings. I spent the whole night in prayer
and anxiety.
Early-the next morning, I was conveyed
by some charitable people on an ass to the
nearest garden to profit by the shade of the
trees. I did not remain long before Mr.
Dehere, the French dragoman joined me,
and gave me the agreeable news that all
the European Christians, excepting a little
boy, had been saved, but many, like myself,
were greatly bruised.
Os the European Jews, the Austrian Con
sul, Mr. Esdra de Picciateo, and a few oth
ers were crushed to death, and many thou
sands of native Christians, Jews and Turks,
perished with them. I have rtow the satis
faction toknow that my brother and family
had escaped from a similar danger at Anti
och ; which place has likewise been de
stroyed, as well as Latakia, Gisser, Si.ogre,
Idlib, Mention, Killis, Scanderoon, and all
the rest of the towns and villages iu the
Pachalick of Aleppo.
Os the interiour, as yet we have had no
news.—All those who have made their es
cape out ot the city are encamped iu the
gardens. I remained four days without be
ing able to move, from tny bruises and sores,
having only a sheet to screen me from the
scorching sun. I,am now, thank God,
much belter, and begin to walk a little, but
with great pain.
When I joined the rest of the Europeans,
in the garden of Ibrahim Aga, I was most
kindly received by the French Consul, Mr.
Lesseps who afforded me every possible as
sistance.
1 cannot too greatly admire the conduct
of this worthy gentleman, in the critical
and afflicting position he is in. A father
could not show more affection to IBs chil
dren, than Mr. Lesseps manifest* to his
countrymen, as well as to all those who are
in want of his advice and assistance.
The next day, my friend, Mr. Maseyk
came to live among us; in the bosorn of
whose family 1 begin again to enj .v life al
though deprived of all its comforts!
My heart bleeds for the poor Europeans,
who, without the least prospect of having,
for a time, a roof to preserve them from the
scorching rays of the sun, must soon, from
the heavy rains of the autumn and winter
be deprived of every resource ; for the few
effects they have been able to save, must
be 9old for their sustenance.
MAGNITUDE OF CREATION.
“ Having ventured an opinion that every
planet and every comet in our system is in
habited, we have only taken a very imper
fect view of the astonishing works of the
Divine Architect. There are about three
thousand fixed stars visible by the naked
eye. Every one of those stars is doubtless
a sun, and each of those suns illuminates as
many orb 9as belong to our system. We
shall state the number at two hundred,
though it is believed that twice this number
of comets, beside the planets, have already
been discovered. This would give three
hundred thousand worlds. But three thou
sand is a small number when compared with
the whole number of stars tbat have been
discovered. The relative places of fifty
thousand stars have been determined by
the help of telescopes. Fifty thousand
solar systems, each containing at least one
hundred worlds! Five millions of worlds, all
inhabited by rational beings! How do we
seem to dwindle into littleness! How small,
how few, are the ephemerons of this little
globe, when compared with the countless
myriads who inhabit five millions of worlds!
All those worlds, and every one of their in
habitants, are under the constant care of
the Divine Being. Not one of them is neg
lected. 4 Great and marvellous are his
works! how terrible his power!’”— Dr.
Williamson.
All persons given to anger, are apt to
dwell on the provocation they receive, and
utterly forget the provocation they gave.
GO VE INTO ALL THE WORLD AND PREACH THE GOSPEL TO EVERY CREATURE.
MOUNT ZION, (HANCOCK COUNTY, GEORGIA,) MONDAY, MAY 5, 1823.
DIVERSITY.
From the Magazine.
THE FUNERAL AT SEA.
It was a morning at sea. The sun had
just risen, and not a cloud appeared to ob
struct his rays. A light breeze played on
the bosom of the slumbering ocean. The
stillness of the morning was only disturbed
by the ripple of the water, or the diving of
a flying fish. It seemed as if the calm and
noiseless spirit of tiie deep was brooding
over the waters. The national flag dis
played half way down the royal roast play
ed in the breeze, unconscious of its solemn
import. The vessel glided in stately se
renity, and seemed tranquil as the element
on whose surface she moved. She knew
not of the sorrows that were in her owo bo
som, and seemed to look down on the briny
expanse beneath her, in all the confidence
and security of strength.
Fo the minds of the brtve crew, it was a
morning of gloom. They had been board
ed by the angel of death! and the forecas
tle now contained all tliat was mortal of
his victim. His soul .hail gone to its final
audit. Grouped around the windlass, and
left to their owo reflections, the hardy sons’
of the ocean mingled their sympathies with
each other. They seemed to think of their
own mortality. Conscience wa9 at her
post. And 1 believe their minds were
somewhat impressed with the realities of
eternity.
They spoke of the virtues of their de
ceased messmate—of his honesty, his sensi
bility, his generosity. One remembered to
have seen him share the last dollar of his
hard earned wages with a distressed ship
mate. All could attest his liberality. They
spoke too of bis accomplishments as a sailor.
Os the uerve of his arm, and the intrepidity
of his soul. They had seen him in an hour
of peril, when the winds of heaven were
let loose in all their fury, and destruction
vvas on the wing, seize the helm and hold
the ship securely within his grasp till the
danger had passed by.
They would have indulged longer in
their reveries; but they were summoned
to prepare for the rites of sepulture, and
pay the last honours to (heir dead compan
ion. The work of preparation was com
menced with heavy hearts, and with many
a sigh. A rude coflin was soon constructed,
and the body deposited within it. All was
ready for the final scene. The main
hatches were his bier. A spare naif was his
pall. His surviving comrades in their tar
stained habiliments stood around. All were
silent. The freshening breeze moaned
through the cordage. The main topsail
was hove to the mast. The ship paused
on her course and stood still. The funeral
service began; and as 44 we commit his
body to the deep” was pronounced, I heard
the knell of the ship bell—l heard the
plunge of the coffin—l saw fears start from
the eyes of the generous tars. Mv soul
melted within me, as I reverted to the home
scenes of him whom we had buried in the
deep—to hopes that were to be dashed with
wo—to joys that were to be drowned in lam
entation. I. E***.
POLITICAL INTEGRITY OF DR. WIL
LIAMSON.
When in Congress, in 1791, it became his
duty to vote upon the law passed in that
year, imposing an excise on domestick dis
tilled spirits, the celebrated whiskey law, as
it was called, which gave rise to the wes
tern insurrection. In the debates on that
subject, he took an active interest; and al
though he well knew that be was counter
acting the sentiments ofhis coDStituents, he
appeared the decided friend and advocate
of that law. On the day of its passing, and
while the people were going from the hall,
Dr. Williamson overtook a friend, from
whom I received this anecdote: the Doc
tor juined him, informed him of the passage
of the bill, and added in his usual senten
tious manner, 44 Sir, my vote was in its fa
vour; I have discharged my duty to my
conscience, but I have lost my popularity.
1 shall never again be elected to Congress:”
but that gave him no uneasiness; believing
it to be a right measure, he had voted as
his conscience and his best judgment dictat
ed, and as he observed, 44 he was not with
out the hope, that one of its effects would
be, to lessen the use of a poison which was
destructive of the morals and health of a
numerous class of the people.”
[Lon. Investigator.
Interesting particulars respecting the treat
ment of Insane Persons.
Humanity has of late made great advan
ces in the care of insanity. A man now
speaks without repugnance of his near re
lation being disturbed in mind, and thinks it
his duty to see him frequently in his con
finement; whereas, till within the last few
years, when a person was sent to a mad
house, his family made as much a point of
putting him out of their minds as if he had
been consigned to the grave. I have been
all my life in the practice of visiting the 89y-‘
turns of lunaticks, as well upon the conti
nent as at home; and lam sure, that I have
not on ten occasions witnessed a lunatick
visited by either a relative or a friend, till
within the few last years.
14 Vi henever I have of late yean gone
through the wards of our hospital, I have
been much pleased with every thing I have
observed in them. Very little personal re
straint is now imposed upon the patients;
and when it has been unavoidably applied it
baa been only for a short timeno unfortu
nate sufferers are now chained without
clothes to our walls, as formerly; no
wretched patient is encaged in iron; and
the strait waistcoat is now so much out of use
in our hospital, that there was this day not
one ot the two hundred and twenty-three
patients in the house so confined. I think
it my duty upon every occasion to depre
cate this horrible instrument of restraint as
being highly unfavourable to respiration
and health. 1 never pass through the fe
male galleries of the hospital withoat beiDg
struck with the marked calmness, tranquil
lity, and cheerfulness, which prevail
amongst the patients, and which are greatly
attributable to the needlework which is put
into their hands by our humane and valua
ble matron. It is matter of deep regret,
that foeans have not yet been* devised of
giving, with safety, work to our male pa
tients as is the practice of several well reg
ulated country asylums. Experience has
proved that bodily labour is a powerful
means of abating that unnatural activity of
mind, which is the usual characteristick of
insanity. This principle is strongly illus
trated in the case of a very interesting
young woman, now in the hospital, whom
1 saw some months ago quite unemployed,
talking rapidly and incessantly, and much
confused m her ideas; when I asked the
matron why she had Dot given to her nee
dle-work, she told me (hat she never at
tempted to force any work on a patient,
and that this woman had repeatedly object
ed to all work, when offered to her. Soon
after this, the young woman, complaining
much of her confinement, earnestly request
ed that I would obtain her enlargement,
which I undertook to endeavour to do, on
two conditions; the first was,that she should
talk less; and the second, that be should
work more; to these she immediately
agreed, and some needlework was put into
her hands, which was done by her with
manifest indifference and carelessness; but
it did not abate her incessant talking, or
produce the slightest difference in her man
ner. It was then judged expedient by the
matron, that some more nice and difficult
work should be given to her, which was
done, and this employed her for some
weeks, at the end of which time I again
saw her and was much struck by her com
posure and reserve. 1 asked her whether
she wag not much better. She answered,
that she did not know how it was, but the
difficult work she had lately done had cer
tainly done good to her head. This pas
sed last week ; and I was much pleased to
see her this day brought up by the physi
cian, who recommended her going out on
trial fora month.”— Christian Observer.
TENACITY OF LIFE IN INSECTS.
Mr. Beddome, chemist, of Tooly-street,
Southwark, relates the following singular
circumstance; —“ 1 had purchased twenty
large hives, and a hogshead of Dutch honey
in the natural state, not separated from the
wax, which had been in my friend’s ware
house above a year; and, after emptying
my hives a9 well as I could, I boiled them
for a considerable time in water, to obtain
what houey remained between the inter
stices. A considerable number of bees that
had been mixed with the honey, were
floating on the surface of the water, and
these I skimmed off, and placed on the flag
stones outside my laboratory, which was at
the top of the house, and then exposed to a
July meridian sun. You may imagine my
astonishment when, in half an hour, I saw
scores of these same bees that bad been for
months in a state of suffocation, and then
well boiled, gradually come to life and fly
away! There were so many of them that I
closed the door, fearing they might be dis
posed to return, and punish me for the bar
barous usage they had received at my
hands.”—The wonderful vitality of insects
has often been remarked by Naturalists.
“ They live, it is stated, when deprived of
their head or intestines; some will exist in
alcohol; others will bear to be frozen as
hard as stone, and yet revive, one species
is found to inhabit boiling springs.” Sure
ly, “the Bible of Nature,” to borrow the
somewhat insidious expressions of an Arch
infidel, must be allowed to have its myste
ries, as inexplicable by us as any that are
contained in the Bible of Revelation. We
have been agreeably surprised, on finding,
Irom a late number of a publication notori
ous for its sneers at Christianity, that the
facts specified in this article have unawares
extorted from one of its writers so much of
homage to truth, as is implied in the follow
ing remarks:—“ Such a miraculous suspen
sion of the faculties of life our phi
losophy, and leaves us only to admire that
hidden economy of nature, in h,er most mi
nute productions, which we must despair
ever to understand.”— Lon. Methodist Mag.
Duties are ours— Everts are God’s.—
This removes an infinite burden from the
shoulders of a miserable, tempted, dyiDg
creature. On this consideration only can be
lay dovfn his head 4* close his eyes in peace.
Price, \ P r - ■.,
’ c $3,00 in advance. \
Publick Education.
From the Ga. Journal.
Mr. G. E. Thomas’s Remarks on the Bill to
endow a Female Seminary.
Mr. Speaker —l am somewhat surprised
that a motion should have been made to
lay a bill of this importance upon the table
for the balance of the session. It is cer
tainly worthy of our most serious delibera
tion.—No one who regards the welfare
and dignity of our race, could sit and silent
ly consign to oblivion a bill whose yery in
dex speaks so eloquently and feelingly the
large and rich blessings which it proffers
to society. But it frequently happens, that
our reason sanctions the truth of a propo
sition, while our hearts remain little or not
at all affected—This is cold, dull, specula
tive philosophy; ill becoming the age in
which we live, or the stations we are called
to fill as members of this house. Hence,
the indifference we too often manifest to
the pursuit of a future distant good, and the
avidity with which we follow ti.e trifles of
the moment. Because this bill creates a
novelty in the history of our literature, and
the benefits to be derived to us lie in pros
pect, we startle at the object and flinch as
from the sting of an adder, though it pro
poses enough to animate our souls with an
unquenchable ardour.
The general advantages of the arts and
sciences are too well known and experien
ced to need any explanation. While they
strengthen the pillars of state, they throw
arouud society a charm which gives it all
its lustre and all its value. The pure gra
ces of an heavenly piety flourish only in a
land of intelligeuce.
The education ol the male sex, has been a
primary object of all civilized countries.—
Ancient Greece and Rome acted with a ref
erence to this object iu all their measures
of legislation, their manners, and their cus
toms; they turned even the sources of ju
venile amusement into lessons of instruc
tion. For the benefit and improvement of
the young, Homar sung, Thales travelled,
and Socrates died! In directing their tal
ents to this noble end, they effected more
for the true interest of society than the ma
ny who were blindly caressed by the multi
tude as lords and as gods.
But I cast my eyes over the map of the
world to behold similar efforts made for the
exaltation of woman’s character; and 1 look
in vain. There is scarcely a single monu
ment to be found. This most interesting
part of creation has been neglected like the
wild blossoms of nature, though she would
be rendered doubly sweet by cultivation.
Proud and jealous man has always denied
her the equal right she has to participate
in the advantages and comforts of a liberal
education:—“Of the tree of knowledge thou
shall not tot”—thus perverting a moral and
beautiful figure into an absurd practical
doctrine.
But it is said by way of excuse, that wo
man is the weaker vessel—is formed for
the more soft and delicate duties of life, and,
therefore, deserves a subordinate degree
of attention. Whence an argument so mon
strous and absurd ? The Deity has made
no other discrimination than that of sex
has given her as grand a system of intel
lect, and a much larger share of the finer
sensibilities of oar nature. Where He baa
made no distinction, shall we dare create
any? It is the height of presumption. If
we do, it is because we have the power,
not the right.—We well nigh act the Turk,
who denies her equal claims to immortality!
As modest, as timid, and as delicate as she
is, she always did and always will exercise a
wonderful and extensive influence over the
world. Therefore, if not well informed,
the more pernicious will be her example
and her power. Man may guide the storm
of battle, the destinies of states and empires,
and sway his sceptre over a subjugated peo-
Ele; but she controls the affections of his
eart, and the treasures of his love: there
she erects her throne, and reigns without a
rival. And thus he is made the willing and
submissive means which she uses in the
government of the world. It is a silent
and mysterious supremacy—he obeys—lie
knows it not. She without influence, when
Aspasia, controlled the destinies of Greece
through the all powerful eloquence of Per
icles, which she inepired by her wisdom,
while her beauty commanded his love?
She without influence, when Cleopatra
wore at her option, the plume of an Antho
ny, or the diadem of a Cffisar? But, if she
should not exercise much influence in pub
lick life, in the private and social circle she
directs all about her. There, she sheds
her sweetest influences; in her presence,
the gloom of melancholy and the pains of
disease are put to flight. It is under her
eye all the gentle and amiable virtues
thrive. What is the language of our pro
genitor, Adam, while Eve walked before
him in all her new created charms:
“ Grace in all her step.; Heaven in her eve •
In every gesture, dignity and love.” ’
Disrobe woman of her mental accomplish
tnents, and you rob her of all her charms
It is in the maternal lap that the blosoms
of genius andl sympathy firsl begin to shoot.
There, the first impressions are imbibed
and the first principles of thought and a C !
twn ingrafted; and the usefulness ofsuhse
quent life depends ouch upon the pious and