Newspaper Page Text
No. 29 Vol. Vl.]
COjYGRESS—LA FAYETTE.
. ““
InthP Senate on Tuesday the 21sf olt
the bill appropriating 200,000 dollars and a
township of land to General Lafayette, was
taken up, and no amendment being propos
ed, the question was about to be put, when
Mr. Macon remarked that with painful re
luctance, he felt himself obliged to oppose
the bilj. The ground of the opposition of
Mr M. was one of principle—he consider
ed General Lafayette, as having been dor
ing the revolution, a son adopted into our
family. Many native Americans had made
great sacrifices and spent their all in the
same cause, and to treat the General as
others were treated, was all that was to be
expected.
fMr. Brown, of Ohio, also objected to the
bill, and was desirous to know what evi
dence had induced the committee to sup
pose that the amount proposed was the pro
per amount of compensation. He moved
to recommit the hill.
Mr. Hayoe, of South-Carolina, Chairman
oftheCommittee, vindicated, at length, in
f a manner, the bill, and the services of La
layelte, and made several statements which
he supported by documentary evidence. It
appeared that the General when he em
barked for America, in 1777, possessed an
equal to $23,700 which was redu
ced by bis losses and sacrifices to a very
small sum It also appeared that the Gen
era! bad expended in the American service
140,000 dollars. Mr. H. also adverted to
othpr samboes ; to his raising and arming
a regiment fr<Jm his private funds, and com
ing to this country in a vessel chartered by
himself and loaded with arms and munitions
of war furnished by himself. It was not till
1791 that Congress gave to him his full pay
without interest, which wa9 due 12 or 14
years before. Mr. H. also related an inci
dent highly honourable !o the character of
Gen. Lafayette. Congress made a grant
in 1003, of 11520 acres of land to the Gen
era!—looo acres of this land was chosen
by his agent where New Orleans now
stands. A valuable portion of Ibis land was
afterward granted to the city of New Oi
lcans, by Congress, without recollection of
(he preceding grant. This land even
then was valued at $50,000, and is now
worth 4 or $500,000, being included in
the limits of the city. He was assured by
eminent couosel he might recover this pro
perty in a contest with the city of Now Or
leans, but on being informed of the facts he
repliecj “ that he would not consent even
to inquire into the Validity of his title ; that
be cotild not think of entering into litiga
tion with any publick body in the U. States,
that the property had heeu gratuitously be
stowed upou him by the U. Stales, and ii
was with (hem to say what had been given
and he accompanied these declarations by
a positive direction to his agent to relinquish
his entry and to make a location elsewhere.
Mr. Hnyne then spoke of precedents, and
referred to several—to the act making com
pensation for the “sacrifices and services”
of Baron Steuben; to that which appropri
ates, in the language of this hill, “an en
tire township of land” for the recompense
to'Aroold Henry Dohrman, for similar ser
vices—to the act making provision for the
daughters of Count de Grasse, and to that
providing for the widow ol Alexander Ham
cjT'.n. Mr. Ij, referred to the character of
the country, and to the interest with which
Europe looked to our conduct towards our
venerable guest; and concluded by expres
sing his conviction that the bill woeid pass
- wiilwnore than uoal unanimity. After a
few remarks from Mr. Macon, Mr. Brown,
.wnd Sir. Smith, the hill was passed by the
following vote, the yeas and nays having
been called lor by Mr. Noble, of Indiana
Yeas. —Messrs. Barbour,Boubgoy,Branch,
t Chandler, Clayton, L'e k-rson, Patou, Jack
F *oo, Johnson, of Ky Johnston, Lous. Kel-
I ly, King, of Ala. Lug, of N. Y Knighi, Lan
l.tuaiij Li.iyd of Mass. Lloyd, of Mil. Edwards,
|Erlin(, Findlay, Gaillkrd, Hayne, Holme*,
ijof M aote, Homes, of MBs. Lowrie, 51‘Leao,
rlMi!4, fctitner, Parrott, Seymour, Smith,
jCr'all.ot, Taylor, Thomas, Van Buren, Van
Williams.
K .Vays. —Messrs. Barton, Bell, Brown,
ptCobtifMacon, Noble, Itugglcs.
So the hill was passed and sent to the
b House of Representatives for concurrence.
Aur. Intel.
* MATERNAL ASSOCIATIONS.
The first Maternal Association which we
recollect to have heard of, was composed
bf members of the Rev. Dr Payson’s church
in Portland upwards of ten years ago.
teocn after; this, a similar institution was
formed in this city, by Ladies belonging to
the Old South and Park street churches, of
Irhich the late lamented Mrs. Huntington
|vas a very active member, and which has
Ijonttnned its meeting nntil the present time.
3*he “Maternal Association of Union
ifcurch,” (who have published the follow
up addfcess,) is recently formed, partly by
members of the old institution.
We are informed it is contemplated to
orm a distinct institution in each of the oth
>r churches, which will exhibit the inter
esting spectacle of those, who formerly as
Jiildren were favoured with the prayers
and instructions ot this institution) now as-
THE MISSIONARY.
(enabling as mothers to bestow similar bles
sings on their children. We hope this ex
ample will be followed in all our churches.
[Boston Recorder.
ADDRESS TO MOTHERS.
In the vicinity of Philadelphia, there was
a piou9 mother, who had the happiness of
seeing her children, in very early life,
brought to the knowledge of the truth;
walking in the fear of the Lord and orna
ments in the Christian church. A clergy
man who was travelling, heard this circum
stance respecting this mother, and wished
very much to see her, thinking that there,
might be something peculiar in Tier mode of
giving religious instruction which rendered
it so effectual. He accordingly visited her,
and inqnired respecting the manner in
which she discharged the duties of a mother
in educating her children. The woman re
plied that that she did not know that she
had been more faithful than any Christian
mother would be, in the religious instruc
tion of her children. After a little conver
sation, she said, “ While ray children were
infants on my lap, as I washed them, I rais
ed my herrt to God, that he would wash
them in that ‘blood that cleanseth from all
sin’—as I clothed them in the moruing, I
asked my heavenly Father to clothe (hem
with the robe of Christ’s righteousness;—
as 1 provided them food, I prayed that God
would feed their souls with the bread of
heaven, and give them to drink the water
of life. When 1 have prepared them for
the house of God, 1 have plead that their
bodies might be fit temples for the Holy
Ghost to dwell in,—when they left me for
the week-day school, I followed their infant
footsteps with a prayer, that their path
throngU life might be like that of the just,
which shineth more and more unto the per
fect day; and as I committed them to the
rest of the night, the silent breathing of my
soul has been, that their heaveuly Father
would take them to his embrace, and fold
them in his parental arms.”
Here is the influence.of the silent , vnscen
exertions of a mother; an influence which
will be felt, when those external accom
plishments, and fleeting enjoyments, which
many labour to give their children, shall
he forgotten or remembered only as the
means of smoothing a rapid descent to the
world of sorrow. In this little story two
things strike our attention; that these es
forts were made enrfy, and with a reliance
on the divine blessing. This mother felt
that she received her children from God,
and was accountable to Him for (he manner
in which she trained (hem up. She knew
that her labours would be in vain, unless
God should in mercy grant her the aid of
His Spirit to sanctify and save the soul;
therefore, through all the duties of the day,
and all the interesting period of childhood,
she looked up to a God who is ever near to
those who will call upon Him, and who will
listen to their cries- How happy must be
that household whose God is the Lord;
what heavenly joy beams from every coun
tenance, and with what glorious hopes do
they look beyond the grave, to that man
sion provided for them in their Father’s
house; and thrice happy must he that
mother, who in the fear of God, and in ref
erence to eternity, has thus performed her
duty.
There are feelings in a mother's bosom,
which are known only by a mother—the
tie which binds them to their offspring, is
oue, compared with whiqh, all other ties
are feeble. It to these feelings, that the
fact just stated, will speak a language which
must be understood; and it must strike a
note on this chord that will vibrate through
every fibre of the soul. While appeals are
often made to him who has lived long in
sin, that fall tike the sound of the empty
wind upon his ear; and the voice of warn
ing, thunders its truths to hearts of ada
mant ; the appeal, now made, is to an ear
Which is not deaf, to a heart which can feel.
The noise and tumult of the active wot Id
often drowns the “still small voice” of the
gospel, which sounds in the ear of the man
of holiness; and worldly wisdom, and strict
calculation sometimes lead men to neglect
the question, “ What will it profit a man if
he gain the whole world and lose his own
soul ?” hut this address is designed for a dif
ferent situation in life; for those who do
not mingle in the bustle and hurry of the
world, who are retired to a more quiet,
though not unimportant sphere. In some
hour of silent meditation this may fall into
the hands of a mother; and the duties it
recommends can be performed even while
engaged in the common business of the
family.
It is no fiction of poetry that, “just as the
twig is bent, ihe tree’s inclined.” When
the mind begins to open, and the attention
is first arrested by the objects that surround
ns, much depends upon her, who in (hat
tender period shall make the first impres
sions upon mind, and first directs its at
tention. It is then that the mother has an
access and an influence, which cannot be at
tained at any other period. The first in
quiries of the little infant must be answered
by her who gave it birth. As it gazes up
on those twinkling stars that glitter in the
evening sky, and asks, “who made those
shining things,” it is a mother’s duty to tell
the li*’.le prattler of that great and good
Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every oreatare, —Jesus Christ.
Ofallthe dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity,'Religion and Morality are indispensable supports. — Washington.
MOUNT ZION, (HANCOCK COUNTY, GEORGIA,) MONDAY, JANUARY 17, 1825.
Being, who dwells in the heavens, and who
is the Father of all our mercies. And as
the mind enlarges, the mother tells the lit
tle listeber of that Jesus, who lay in a man
ger, and died on the cross. And when she
softens its pillow for its nightly slumbers,
and watching its closing eyes, it is her privi
lege to hear her lisp, “Our Father,” and
direct it to love that Father whose name it
so early speaks. Let Ibis golden opportu
nity pass, these days of childhood roll away,
and the mind filled only with fabled stories
and sportive songs, and the precious immor
tal is trained for some other slate than the
paradise above. Do you say that you are
ignorant, and not capable of giving instruc
tion? As your child clings to your bosom,
he directs his inquiring countenance to you
for some interesting story; you know
enough to tell him of some hero or
king, and* cannot you tell him of the King
of Zion, the Prince of Peace ? And what
more could the learned philosopher tell
this infant mind ? You are unknown and ob
scare you say ? But you are known to your
child, and your influence is greater than
than that of a legislator or general. Your
words are received with confidence, and
“ my mother told me so,” is an argument of
sufficient weight to convince the child of
the most important truths.
Here you have an influence which no oth
er can have, and can exert it in circum
stances the most favourable. It is not to
open to a son the stores of science that
may qualify him to rank among the learned
and the wise of the world, it is not to adorn
a daughter with those accomplishments
which shall attract the attention of those
who crowd the hall of pleasure, or move
in the circle of refinement and fashion.—
But the object is far more noble, more wor
thy the undivided attention of those who
live for immortality.
That child who now prattles on your
knee, or sports around yonr dwelling, may
yet tell some perishing heathen of Jesus of
Nazareth; may yet be an able soldier in
the army of Immanuel, and may plant the
standard of the cross on the shores of Green
land, or nnder the burning sun of Africa.
Look at facts. What first led the pioos and
eminently useful John Newton to the
knowledge of the truth? The instructions
of his mother, given at the early period of
four years, fastened upon his conscience,
and led hitn to a Saviour.
Can you estimate the effect of his labours ?
Not till you can compute the usefulness of
Buchanan and Scott, who were converted
by his instrumentality—’till you can see the
full blaze of Ibat light, which the former
carried into the heart of heathen India;
and witness Ihe domestick comfort and
brightening hopes occasioned by the labours
of Ihe latter. Who taught young Timo
thy, an early labourer in the vineyard of
Jestls Christ, the first lessons of religious
truth? Who led Samuel, a prophet and a
judge in Israel, while he was yet young, to
(he house of (he Lord, and dedicated him to
the service of the God of Heaven ? A pray
ing mother.
Though the seed thus sown in childhood,
may aot spring up and bring forth fruit
while under the maternal eye; yet she
must not conclude that it is lost. A clergy
man recently met a seaman in the street of
a neighbouring city, and pressed upon him
the duty of attending to the concerns of his
soul. The hardy mariner burst into tears
and exclaimed, “ slop, stop, don’t talk to me
so, it is just as my mother talked to me
when I was a boy.” A mother’s counsel
had followed him through all his wander
ings, and still the words of her who prayed
for him, retained their hold oa his con
science.
The time has come when it is esteemed
a greater honour to be the mother of a
Brainerd or a Martyn, than that es a Caesar
or Napoleon. And suppose the mothers of
these men, whose characters though so
widely different, are so universally known,
should from their unchanging state, look up
on these sons whom they have nourished;
what would be the view presented to them?
Who would not cooose to have given birth
to the Christian heroes? Yet it is not for
this short state of existence only, that yon
are to train your children. The little group
that now clusters around you, are destined
for immortality. When the world on which
they stand shall have passed away, and its
pleasures and its honours shall be forgotten,
then they whom you have introduced lo
this state of being, will but begin to live.
Their characters are now farming for
eternity, and you are aiding to form them.
Though you may not design it, though
you may quiet yourself, that if you can do
them no good, you will not do them injury ;
yet you exert an influence which is, and will
be felt when your heads are laid in the dust.
Let then, this appeal to a mother’s feelings
be beard; let it coma lo your own bosoms,
and ponder it in your hearts Do you
know the wav to a throne of mercy, and can
you kneel before it, and forget the children
of yoar love? Can you watch their Closing
eyes, and not commit them to your God?
Can you labour that they may enjoy the
good things of this fleeting world, and not
pray that God would prepare them for that
upon which they will soon enter? Can you
see them growing up around you without
hope, and without God in the tyo*ld? tho’
you may he unable to do more, can you re
fuse to pray that He, who io a peculiar
manner extends the arms of mercy to those
in the morning of life, would take them to
His embrace and prepare them for His
kingdom.
You have seen the band of disease fasten
upon them, and have passed days of anxious
toil, aod nights of sleepless solicitude to ar
rest their malady ; and have cried from a
bursting heart, “Oh! spare my child!”
You have seen the object of your teoderest
affections sinking into the arm9of death, and
with a heart re.Dt with anguish, have said
with the nobleman, “Come down e’er my
child die.” And wheo the last duties of
parental affection were performed, and the
grave has closed over the child of your bo
som, you have perhaps looked hack to the
time when it was under your care, and
mourned that you thought no more of its
immortal part, that you prayed no more for
its precious soul.
If you have passed through scenes like
these, if yon have thus felt, then remem
ber those, now in life and health, and im
prove the opportunity now g-iven you.
The time for your exertion is very short
Sood your children will arrive at that pe
riod of life, when a mother’s influence will
be very feebly felt unless it has been early
exerted. Would you find in them a rich
source of consolation when your heads will
become white with years, and your bodies
bending to the grave; then you will now
commit them to Him who can sanctify and
save the soul. Should you go dowD to the
grave aod leave these objects of yonr love
in a cold, unfeeling world, what better can
you do for them than to secure the friend
ship of one who “sticketh closer than a
brother,” and whose “ love is stronger than
death?” The tender tie which now binds
you to them, will soon be dissolved; you
cannot resist the stroke which shall tear
them from yeur bosom. You may have
felt the pang—your heart may have been
filled with sorrow, 0 then, if you ever pray
ed, if your soul ever went out to your God,
in humble petitions, tell Him of your chil
dren who koow Him not; when you know
what it is to wrestle in secret with the God
of Jacob, give him hack iu faith your chil
dren. Then in the other world to which
yon are going, you may through grace say,
“ Lord, here am I, and the children thou
hast given me.” Should this paper fall into
the hands of a mother who never prayed
even for her6elf: she must, she cannot but
pray for those to whom she has given life.
Prayerless mother! spare, Oh! spare your
child. Stop where you now are, on the
threshold of eternity, and remember as you
gaze oa that couotenance which smiles in
your bosom, that you have have never pray
ed for its soul which will live for ever.
Have you a mother’s feelings, and can you
still neglect it ?
Ob ! my God, give me poverty, give me
pain, leave me friendless and forsaken by
the world, but leave me not to the embrace
of a prayerless mother! Leave not my soul
to the care of one who never raised her
weeping eyes to heaven, as she implored its
blessing on my head.
Are you a mother? andean yen close
your eyes upon the scenes of earth, aod re
member that you never raised, even in si
lent breathings, the desires of your heart to
heaven for a child, perhaps your only dar
ling?
In some lonely hour when the labours of
the day are ended, and you have performed
the last act of kinduese for your sleeping
babes; kneel, if you never have before—
kneel before Him who seeth your heart in
that sileut hoar, and utter one short prayer,
one broken petition for your dear children.
THE INTREPID JURYMAN.
Extract from a late publication, entitled, “An
excursion from Sidmouth (in Devombire) to
Chester.” By the Rev. Edmund Butcher.
I cannot help congratulating our country
upon the inestimable value of trial by jury.
I have lately met with a proof of its excel
lence, which ought not to be lorgetten.
A Judge, on the northwest circuit in Ire
land, tried a cause, io which much of the
local consequence of a gentleman iu the
neighbourhood was implicated. It was
the landlord’s prosecution against one of
his tenants, for assault and hatterv, commit
ted on the person of the prosecutor by the
defendant, in rescuiog bis only child, an ia
oocent and beautiful girl, from personal vi
olation. WbeD the defendant was brought
into court, the prosecutor also appeared,
and swore to every fact laid down in the
indictment. The poor defendant bad no
lawyer to tell bis story : he, however,
pleaded bis own cause effectually, by ap
pealing to the judgement and the heart.
The jury found him hoi guilty.
The judge was enraged, and told the ju
ry they must go back, aod reconsider the
matter; addiog, he was astonished at tbeir
giving such an infamous verdict.—The ju
ry buwed, went back, and io a quarter of
an boor returned, when the foreman, a ven
erable old man, thus addressed the bench.
“ My lord, in compliance with your desire,
we went back to our room-, but, as we
there found no reason to alter our* opinions
or our verdict, we now return it to you, io
the same words as before— not guilty We
heard joar lordship’* reproof; bat we do
[Price S3 50 per ann.
not accept it as properly applying to us.
Individually, aod io our private capacities,
it is true, we are iosiguificant men; we
claim nothing, out of (his box, above the
common regard, due 19 our humble, yet
honest stations; but, my lord, assembled
here, as a jury, we cannot be insensible of
the great importance of the office we now
sustain. We feel glad that we are appoint
ed, as you are, by the law and t|p constitu
tion : not only to act impartially between
the king and his subjects, the offended and
the offender, but to form a barrier against
the possible influence, prejudice, or corrup
tion of the bench; to which we do not wish
to offer Ihe smallest degree of disrespect,
much lees of insult : we pay it to the res
pect which one tribunal should pay to an
other, for the common honour of both.
This jury did not accuse the bench of par
tiality or oppression—no, we looked upon
it as the sanctuary of truth aod justice ; still,
my lord, we cannot erase from ocr minds
the records of oar school books. By them
we were taught that kings and judges are
but fallible mortals ; and (hut the seat of
justice has been polluted by a Tressilian, a
Scroggs, and a Jeffreys ” The judge
frowned at these words, hut the intrepid
juror thus proceeded ; “My lord, lam
hut a poor man; yet I am a freeborn sub
ject, aod a member of the constitution—
nay, I am now higher, for 1 am one of its
representatives : I therefore claim, for
myself and fellow jurors, liberty of
speech.”
The judge here resumed his complacen
cy, and the orator continued his address.
“We have nothing to do, my lord, with
yonr private character; in this place it is
veiled by your official one ; we know you
are only in that of a judge: and, as sucb,
we would respect you: you know nothing
of us, hut as a jury ; and in that situation,
we look to you for reciprocal respect; be
cause we know of no - man, however high
his titles or his rank, in whom the law or
the constitution woold warrant an unpro
voked insolt towards that tribunal, in which
they have vested Ihe dearest aDd most val
uable privileges they possess. We sit here,
my lord, sworn to give a verdict accordiug
to our consciences, and the best of our
judgements, on the evidence before us.
We have, in our minds, discharged our du
ty a9 honest men. If we have erred, we
are accountable, not lo your lordship, nor
to the king who appointed yon; hut tou
higher power, the King of king 9.”
The bench was dumb, the bur silent; as
tonishment and applause murmured through
the crowd—and the poor man was discharg
ed.'—Eng. paper.
ANECDOTE OF GEORGE IV. AND
DR. PEARSON.
From a respectable source we have Ihe
following anecdote of George IV. and Dr.
Pearson, author of the life of Buchanan.—
On a certain occasion, Mr. Pearson, then
little known, happening in London, wa9 in
vited by one of his Majesty’s chaplains lo
officiate on a Sabbath, when it was expect
ed the King would not be present. The
invitation was accepted, but to the surprise
of all, bis majesty entered the chapel to
gether with the Royal Family, when (be
young man was to preaeh ! His intended
sermon was of a very plain and pointed
character, and such ao odo as seldom or
never entered the royal ear. But Pearson
did not feel disposed to alter, curtail, or ex
change it for another. The king was very
much astonished to hesr such unwonted
doctrine, and sent a messenger requiring
the attendance of the young preacher.
Pearson waited on (he king, who wav pleas
ed to inform him that he was much gratifi
ed with his discourse, and “farther,” said
he, “it is our royal pleasure that you bn
appointed to the office of chaplain to the
court!” Pearson was surprised at this un
expected favour, an object of so much am
bition to the English clergy, but with Chris
tian meekness and dignity, begged to de
cline the honour. The king was astonish
ed, and asked his reason for declining that
which to any clergyman in his situation
would he a very high favour. “1 am sor
ry to say to your Majesty that my discharge
rag the duties of this office to my king on
earth, woold be inconsistent with my duty
to my King in heaven.” “ How so F’ asked
the king. “ I should be obliged, for exam
pie, to attend yonr Majesty in your royal
yacht on parties of pleasure during the
Sabbath,” was his reply. “ And is it then a
profanation of the Sabbath ? My chaplains
never told me so,” rejoined the king. Some
explanation es the nature and sanctity of
(be Sabbath was then entered into,all which
appeared new to the. king. When the in
terview was concluded, Pearson was dis
missed, hut was subsequently sent for, aod
when be, entered the royal presence, was
addressed by the king as “ Dr. Pearson.”
“ Your Majesty mistakes, I have not yet re
ceived (bat honour.” “ That boronr,’?
replied the king, “ has been conferred upon
you,” aod beckoning ton page,he advanced
aod presented to Pearson the degree of D.
D. which had been obtained from Oxford I
“ Yon will henceforward,” the king told
bim, “be considered as one of our chap
lains,” and at Ihe same time assured him
that while in his service, nothing should he
required of him Inconsistent with hi* duly