Newspaper Page Text
what earlier thau his accustomed hour, to take
his usual walk before breakfast. 'V hilc wait
ing for his return, a livery servant rode up to
the door, delivered a letter, and putting spurs
to his horse, galloped oir inuneJiatcly towards
Louden. The letter was for Mrs. Coventry,
and in the handwriting of her husbaud ! Its
contents confounded her.
• Mr beloved Sarah,
• Come to me without k>«s of time, I would
-spare you the sliock—but l shall be happier
when 1 Itear from your own lips that you will
bear your trial with resignation. Come, the
instant von receive this. Lose not a moment
1 beseech you.’
She neither wept nor raved, as, with blood
less check, and a palpitating heart, site read
these tearful words. •\V imt can have hap
penedbreadied io a stilled whisper, was all
that fell from her;'and she pressed her hand
upon her brow, to quell tiie furious beating of
her temples. The next instant, hastily folding
up tiie letter,'site prepared to obey its melan
choly summons.
A postscript directed her whither she was
to go ; a post-chaise was soon at the door ;
and silent, as one bereaved-of speech, tearless,
as the infant that sleeps its first sleep ol life
beside its joyful mother, this grief-stricken
• creature, who had hailed that morning with
strangely, blended feelings of bridal and mater
nal pride and happiness, now pursued her sail
journey! The distance was but a few miles.
In less than half-an-hour she was at the place
indicated—a small road-sidt public house.
There, in a low white-washed roo n, meanly
furnished, dark and dirty, laid ett a miserable
bed in one corner, she saw—no —the ghastly
object before her, so hideously disfigured, she
could not believe was the Same idolized being
who. had quitted her side, only a few short
hours,,high in health, and in the full flush of
manly grace and vigour. But that outstretched
hand—and the motion of it, for her to approach
and the piteous expression of those eyt s, which I
still spoke a language whose mute eloquence
had so often thrilled through her soul, revealed
the appalling truth. And then it was, the an
guish she had borne so meekly burst forth.
She clasped the extended hand—she looked at
the mutilated face—she knew her husband—
and her agony was expressed in loud lamenta-1
tlons and long weeping.
While she mourned, George Coventry
breathed his last. He had gone out that
morning to fight a duel—the challenger, not
the challenged. Two shots were exchanged ;
the seconds interfered ; but Major Coventry
was immovable; he would not acknowledge
he had received satisfaction till one or both
took effect. In the third fiie, the ball ofCap
tain Beverly struck him in the mouth, shatter- :
ed it frightfully, and taking and oblique direc
tion, passed out behind the left ear. He fell;
was conveyed to the nearest public-house;
and a surgeon sent for, who immediately pro
nounced upon the mortal nature ofthe wound.
When he heard this, he signified by motion
that he wished for pen, ink, and pa ter. The
first thing he wrote was, ‘Can I be removed
home?’ Thesuigeon assured hm that any
attempt to move him would hasten his death, by
increasing the effusion of blood. He then,
with much difficulty, traced the few lines to
his wife. They were given to Captain Bever
ly’s servant to convex, and lie w,is ordered by
his master tb proceed afterwards to town, with
all possible speed, and return with an eminent
surgeon wkofn he named.
Here were havoc and desolation ! A noble,
heart, struck at by death—a gentle and a lov
ing one, smote by -sorrow even in the fulness
of its joy! Alas! there is no treachery in
life so to be feared, as the treachery of life it
self. Tne day that has passed prosperously,
let it challenge our gratitude ; hut for the com
ingone, wrapped in shadows, welcome it with
trembling. Each minute has its allotted dis.
pensation of misery to countless thousands.
T.iis we know, and it is all. Who among
us is warned of that which brings his own ?
It was a sharp aggravation of tiie sufferings
of Mrs. Coventry, that her husband’s wound
disabled him from speaking. To lijtve heard
his voice once more—to have been blessed by
him—to have received his parting benediction
for their child, would, she vainly imagined,
have been some mitigation; though, in truth,
her Incessant recurrence to this thought was
only the melancholy indulgence of that strange
pleasure which sorrow finds (for sorrow has
its voluptuous enjoyment) in cherishing itself,
in deepening the sources of its tears, and re
fusing to l>e comforted.
In the evening of this miserable day, as she
sat weeping by her now widowed hearth, she
drew aside the curtains of the cradle where
Her infant'slept. They had been tastefully
ornamented with festoons of white satin ribbon
—<t portion of that same ribbon which had
adorned herself at the alt tr —thus, in all her
thouglHs, still mingling those • two blissful
recollections of her short life of happiness—
the briue and the mother. They were recol
lections still J hut blissful ones no more.
Every feeling that had made them so, seetn :d
blotted from her heart by the sudden affliction
which had destroyed their living source. Site
bent over the slumbering innocent, and, in a
voice that bespoke the depth of her anguish,
exclaimed,«Our only child ! I ever knew it
would, bo thus!’ Then, after a pause, during
which she had gazed without a tear, she added,
in a lower tone, but breathed with such touch
ing tenderness as might beseem a pitying an
gel, ‘ Poor soul ! —and this is thy first birth
day? An orphan, now in thy very cradel—a
a tlirng hireafter- for charity’s cold smiles'
God be merciful to tfiee, my sweet boy, when
1 am gone!’
% God was merciful. He strengthed the fain
ting spirit of the mourner; and slie lived to
shelter her ‘ only one’ from that cold smile of
'charity, which proud benevolence, or com
passion, kindled at the shrine of duty, beslows
on the unfortunate. Tito burden was heavy,
but not-insupportable'; the trial was exceeding
tribulation, but not utter despair ; for He who
newt them, vouchsafed fortitude to liear the one
ami bp - > ,e ). hojie-into tne soul to assuage tiie
otlier. . . •.
it was, in truth, a severe blow. Tub Cot
TAGE, with all its endearing recollections at Iter
first connubial home— with all those attach, j
menu which tiie mind forms even to inanimate
objects, when some circumstance or other, still j
loudly Remembered. gives tliem a place jn the j
; heart—had to be relinquished for an humble
edging in tiie outskirts of the metropolis.
Here Mrs. Coventry took up her abode, as
j poor as virtue, and almost as fr-endiess ; for
site shunned, rather than sought—not from
j false pride, but from proud economy—those
a ho* in her better days, had been tiie guests or
acquaintance of lier husband. This resolution j
was early taken, and it was easily kept. There
; were many who expressed their wonder as to
• what had become of poor Mrs. Coventry and
! her child but none who devoted half-an-hour
to enquiries which would have conducted tliem
to the widow's dwelling. All were * sorry that
so amiable and excellent a creature —so gifted
and so fascinating too —should have met with
such a sad reverse, and wished they knew how
t oy could serve her;’ but they bore their
sorrow with edifying resignation, and exhibi
ted an exemplary forbearance in not seeking
to gratify their wishes. A few short months
s tw the end of their wondering, their sorrow
ing, and their wishing; and if‘poor Mi's.
Coventry, and her child’ ban lived mid died
during the Saxon Heptarchy,they could scarce
ly have been less remembered.
Small as was the pittance oil which she now
had to subsist, she contrived, by such self de
nials as ire known only to honorable poveity.
to put aside a little, every year, as a sacred
fund for her child’s future education, when he
should be of ail age to derive full benefit from
instructions, which she well knew would &•
too costly to be defrayed out of her current
income. This plan was commenced long
before she could possible judge whether his
natural endowments would repay her provi- -
dent love. But it seemed to impress upon that
love the inspiration of a higher power, when,
as he advanced in years, there was an une
quivocal developement of mental faculties
surpassing her most sanguine expectations.
Charles Coventry was indeed, no ‘common
boy.’ Still less was he one of those very com
mon prodigies, who astonish us while they are
ten years old, and because they are ten years
old, but grow up every-day men and women;
little runaways and stragglers, who get the
start of Time at the beginning of their journey
and when overtaken by the steady oUI gen
tlemen, find themselves left behind all the rest
of it. Nature had been prodigal in her gifts.
There was much of youthful beauty in his
person ; and he was gentle in his disposition,
save when crossed, as he might think, ca
priciously or despitefully; and then, the
haughtiest rebel to submission which a proud
and daring spirit ever made. He had great
energy of character; felt on the instant what
it was he would like to do, and on the instant
determined whether and how he would do it.
At school, remarkable rather for certainty
than celei ity in his studies, his class-fellow’s
would sometimes take the lead, and keep it for
a while, but in the end he was always above
them, and never lost an inqji of the ground lie
once gained. His reading was of every thing;
a book was a book to him, as any meat is a
meal to a hungry man ; and before he was
twelve years old, he had read ‘The Whole
Duty of Woman,’ * Salmon’s Chirurgery,’
‘ A Brief Treatise of Testaments and Last
Wills,’ ‘ Hobbes’s Eccameron Physiologicuni,’
and.an ‘Alphabetical Book of Physical Se
crets,’ which were the property, and happened
to be-the entire library, ofthe old lady in
whose house his mother lodged.
It would feebly express Mrs. Coventry’s
feelings, as she watched the opening character
of her son, simply to say, they were a parent’s.
When all the love of which the heart is capa
hie, is concentrated upon one object—when
all those sympathies and affections which em
brace husband, kindred, children, friends,are
called home, as it were, and made to twine
themselves about a single being, it is, as it
were, and made to twine themselves about a
single being, it is hardly possible to conceive
the degree of their intensity. This was her
case. Had the boy been as much beneath the
ordinary standard of personal and mental
excel le' ce, as he was certainly above it, it is
not likely there would have been one jot of
abatement in this intensity, for love sees more
perfections than the judgement can catalogue.
But, challenging admiration, as he did, from
strangers ; the theme of praise with all ; the
favorite of every one, what could a proud and
happy mother do, bat as she gathered in this
tribute, adding it to the store which was al
ready great, let her heart o’erflow with its joy.
ful treasure? And she did so, even to the
excess that brings agony ; for she grew a
worshipper of that which, as ‘ a vapour, ap
peareth for a little time, and then vanisheth
away.’ She could hardly be said to live, or
have her being, in any sense distinct from the
life of her darling hoy ; and the thought of
what a shadow it was in which her soul found
its sum of earthly contentment, would often
make her most sad in her very happiest mo
ments. Her constant prayer to Heaven was,
that she might live to see him take root where
he was to flourish, when she herself should de
cay and go down to the grave.
{Tobe Continued.)
NEWSPAPER LITERATURE.
We perceive by the Charleston papers, that
D. K. Whitaker, Esq., the former talented
editor ofthe Southern Literary Journal, is giv
ing lectures on the press. They are spoken
of as highly eloquent and instructive. The
theme is a fruitful one, and in such hands can
not fail to be most attractive. We are glad
to see that Mr. Whitaker is endeavoring to
reseusitate the Southern Review. Southern
Literature is much neglected ; and we fear it
will be long ere that attention is bestowed upon
it which it deserves. Savannah Georgian.
Perhaps no quality has been more fatal to
the interests of Christianity than prejudice.
It is the m >ral cataract of tiie human mind.
In vain the meridian sun of truth darts its full
lx;ams. The mental eye is impervious to the
strongest ray. When religion is to Iks assailed
prejudice know s how to blend antipathies. It
Vdgued those mutual enemies, Herod and Pi
l ate, in one common entire, and led the Jew*
10 prefer a robber to the Saviour.
iltnnsh More.
Tiie more a rnitn resembles God, the man
[ will his conduct ue ceiiauiod Ly ance and
[Pri*- UMa.
TIIE SOUTHERN POST.
From the (London) Gentleman’9 Magazine.
HISTORY OF THE BRITISH POSSESSIONS IN
THE EAST INDIES.
BY R. M. MARTIN, ESQ.
The author has comprised much interesting
and valuable information in a small compass.
He has commenced with an account of the
rise and progress of the British power in India
the conquest of the territories under the presi
deucy of Bengal, with the wars with Sciudiali,
Hoikar, and the Burmese conquests; then
follows an account of tint Madras presidency,
and the wars with Hvder and Tippo ; the
Bombay presidency, and the Mahrutta con
federacy ; concluding with the stipendiary
princess and the subsidiary states. The civil
aud political history being thus closed, the
author enters into the subject of tiie physical
aspect of India, its geography, rivers, moun
tains, and geology, climut;, and natural pro
ductions ; he then gives a short statistical view
of the population, and the character and dis
tinguished features of the people, their appear
ance and stature; and lastly, enumerates the
varieties of languages' used in India, with their
filiation. The work is very well written, and
very interesting; though tiie nature of it, as
an abridgement, lias prevented the author
entering, as we could have wished, more into
the details of the policy of our different states
men and governors, and of the brilliant and
scientific campaigns of our commanders. We
should have contented ourselves with thus
giving our opinion ofthe work, as a specimen
from it would not serve to display its merits,
which consist in the general distribution,
management, and arrangement of the mate
rials, affording much information in a small
compass, and adjusting the quantity to the im
portance ofthe subject; but we have been too
much interested in the account of the Jugglers
not to lay before our readers some specimens
of their unaccountable dexterity; which, ap
pearing like tiie fables of a dream, or visisns of
the fancy, are real and authentic, and, there
fore. form a curious chapter in the history of
the human mind and its achievements. We
no more pretend to account for these marvel,
ous performances than the writers who have
witnessed and recorded them; but we may
remark, that- undoubtedly they are based on
this fact, that the power of muscular movejnent
in the I'nibs can be acquired, of such quickness
that the eye is for 100 slow to keep puce with it :
this being the case, and as an image remains
on the retina after the body has been removed,
the eye under such celerity of change presented
to it, has not the capacity of’such accurate
vision as will enable it to detect the imposition.
But such marvelous quickness can only arise
from the greatest possible flexibility of limbs
allowing such rapid and invisible movement;
and accordingly, such feats are only perform
ed by the natives of the East, the stiff and
i muscular make of the European body not al
lowing any thing like a ne;,r approach to the
power required. We shall now transcribe
some of these details.
“ One ofthe men, taking a large earthern
vessel with a capacious month, filled it with
water, and turned it upside down, when all the
water flowed out, hut the .moment it was
placed with the mouth upward, it always be
came full. lie I lien emptied it, allowing any
one to inspect who chose. This being done,
he desired that one of tiie party would fill it.
His request was obeyed. Still, when lie re
versed the jar, not a drop of water flowed, and
upon turning it, to our astonislnwnt it was
empty. These, and similar deceptions,
were several times repeated ; and sa skilfully
were they managed, that although any' of us
that choose were allowed to upset the vessel
when full, which I did many times, upon re
versing it, no water to be seen, and yet no
appearance of any having escaped. I ex
amined the jar carefully when empty, but de
tected notiiing which could lead to a discovery
of the mystery. I was allowed to retain and
fill it myself, still upon taking it tip, all was
void within: so that how the water had dis
appeared, and where it had been conveyed,
were problems which none of us were able to
expound. The vessel employed by the juggler
upon t lis occasion was tiie common earthen
ware ofthe country, very roughly made ; and
in order to convince us that it had not been
especially constructed for the purpose ofaiding
hir clever deceptions, he permitted it to be
broken in our presence. The fragments
were then handed round for the inspection of
his Highness, and the party present with him.
The next thing clone was still more extraordi
nary ; a large basket was produced, under
which was put a lean, hungry Pariah bitch.
After the lapse of about a minutethe basket was
removed, and she appeared with a litter of
seve 1 puppies. These were again covered,
and upon raising the magic basket, a goat was
presented to our way. This was, succeeded
by a pig in the full vigor of existence but which
after feeing covered for the usual time, appear
ed with its throat cut. It was, however,
shortly restored to life under the mystical
shade of the wicker covering. What render
ed these sudden changes so extraordinary was,
that no one stood near the basket but the
juggler, who raised and covered the animals
with it. When he concluded his exploits,
there was nothing to he seen under it, and
what became of the different animals which
figured in this singular deception, was a ques
tion that puzzled all. A man now took a
small bag of brass balls, which he threw one
by one into the air, to the number of thirty-five.
None of them appeared to return. When he
he had discharged the last, there was a pause
for at least a minute. He then made a varietv
of motions with Ins hands, nt the same time
grunting forth a sort of barbarous chant. Ii
i few seconds the balls were seen to full, one
by one, until the whole of them were replace
in the bag, this was repeated at least half;
lozen times. No one was allowed to conn
near him while this interesting juggle was per
formed. A gaunt-looking Hindoo then steppe;
forward, and declared he would swallow s
make : opening a box. he produced u Cobr
li Capello, not less than five feet long, and a
big as an infant’s wrist. He stood, howeve
apart, at some distance from us, and, like hi
redecessors, would not allow any one to up
proa.ih him, so that the deception became m
'onger equivocal. He then, os it appeared 1.
is, took the snake, and putting its tail into hi
nouth, gradually lowered it into hia stomach
' until nothing but the bead appeared to project
j from between his lips, when, with a sudden
gulp, lie seemed to complete the disgusting
i process of deglutition, and to secure the odious
| reptile within tiis body. After the expiration
jof a few seconds he opened his mouth, and
i gradually drew forth the snake, which lie re
| placed in the box.
The next thing that engaged our attention
; was a feat of dexterity altogetlier astonishing.
' An elderly woman, the upper part of whose
body was entirely uncovered, presented herself
; to our notice, and taking a bamboo, twenty
feet high, placed it upright upon a flat stone,
and then, without any support, climed to the
lop of it with surprising agility. Having done
this she stood upon one leg on the point of the
bamboo, balancing it all the while. Round
her waist she had a girdle to which was fasten,
ed an iron socket. Springing from her up
right position on the bamboo, she threw her
self horizontal y forward with such exact pre
cision that the top of the iron pole entered the
socket of her in n zone,mid in this position"
she spun herself round with a velocity that
made nie giddy to lo look at, the bamboo ap
pearing all the while as if it were supported by
some preternatural agency. She turned her
legs backward until her heels tdnehed her
shoulders, and grasping the ankles in her hands
continued her rotation so rapidly that the out- ]
line of her body was lost to the eye, and she
looked like a revolving ball. Having fier
fomied other feats equally extraordinary, she
slid down the elastic shaft, and raising it in the
air, balanced it on her chin, then on her hip,
and finally projected it to a distance from her
without the application of her hands. The
next performer spread upon the ground a cloth
about the size of a sheet. After a while it
seemed to he gradually raised ; upon taking
it up there appeared three pine apples grow
ing under it, which were cut Jjand presen
ted to the spectators. This is consider
ed a common juggle, and yet it is perfect- j
ly inexplicable. A man, who in 1829 seated
himself in the air without any apparent support,
excited as much in'erest and curiosity as the
automaton chess-player who astonished all
Europe a few years ago. Drawings were
exhibited in all the India paj»ers, and various
conjectures formed respecting the secret of his
art, but.no very satisfactory discovery was
made of the means by which he effected an
apparent impossibility. The bodies of the
Madras jugglers are so little and supple as to
resemble those of serpents rather than men.
An artist of this kind will hold a ladder up
right on the ground, and wind himself in'and
out through the reunds until he reaches the
top, descending in the same manner, keeping
the ladder, which has ho support whatever, in
a perpendicular position.
Some of the most accomplished tumblers will
spring over an enormous elephant, or five
camels abreast. Swallowing the sword is a
common opeiation, even, "by those who are
not considered to be the most expert; and thev
have various other exploits with naked weapons
of a most frightful nature: a woman—for fe
males are quite equal to men in these kinds of
feats—will dip the point of a sword in some
black pigment; the hilt is then fixed firmly in
the ground, and after a few whirls in the air.’
the artiste takes off a part of the pigment with
i her eyelid! A sword and four daggers are!
placed in the ground, with their edges and
| points upward, at such a distance from each
other as to admit a man’s head between them.
The operator then plants a cimiter firmly in
the ground, sits down behind it, and at a hound
throws himself over the cimiter, pitching his
head exactly in the centre, between the daggers
| and, turning over, clears them and the sword.
Walking over the naked edges of sabres seems
I lo be perfectly easy, and some of these people
will stick a sword in the ground, and step upon
the point in crossing over it. A more agreea
i hie display of the lightness and activity which
would enable the performers to tread over
flowers without bending them, is shown upon j
a piece of thitl linen cloth, stretched out slightly i
in the hands of four j arsons, which is traversed
without ruffling it, or being forced front the
grasp of the holders. The lifting of heavy
weights with the eyelids is another very dis
gusting exhibition. Some ofthe optical de
! ceptions are excedingly curious and ingenious,
I am to this day puzzled to guess how plants
j and flowers can he instantaneously produced
| from seeds. I have witnessed juggling feats
j in Bengal, and other parts of India, equally as
extraordinary as the foregoing, and equally
difficult to account for.”
HISTORY OF EVENTS THAT NEVER HAPPENED.
D’lsraeli, in his “Curiosities of Literature,”
has a chapter on this subject. He mentions
but two such events. Livy alludes to Alex
ander’s projected invasion of Italy, and then
giving loose to his imagination, descants beau
tifully upon what would have been the proba
ble consequence, if he had put his design into
execution.
After the Saracens had been expelled from
Spain, Eude, a discontented noble, formed a
conspiracy, which was timely discovered, to
re-admit them and subvert the Spanish cm
kneel in a church, would be piostrating them
selves in a mosque.
Another and better example might be given.
In 1637, Cromwell was on board a vessel to
emigrate to America, when he was stayed bv
order of council. If l>e had come, the royal
cause triumphing in the struggle that ensued,
the king’s prerogative would have swallowed
up the rights of the people, and the English
constitution would not exhibit, as it now c?oes,
in almost perfect model. We may easily im
cine, too, what a different character a man of
Cromwell’s vast and restless genius would have
riven to this country. Instead of offering to
he world a lesson of liberty, America would,
n all probability, lie groaning at this moment,
rnder the yoke of a despot.
*
The London Age any* there are two very
hstinct classes in society in England ; the no.
lility and a-bility.
Tliere is one more de-bility. jj. 0 . Time* I
Miss Caroline F. () n ,e of Boston, in a piece*
■flier poetry lately published, thinks that the I
'■ought of eariy death, is “sndlv beaut ful.”l
We think ourselves, it is rather sad—we'
aven’t looked into the beauty of it yet—when i
we de we’ll let Iter know. i
PICAYUNE ANA.
The editor of the Cuicinatti News rnct with
a couple of sev ere losses at the great ball, viz:
his heart and hat ! \V hether lie parried his
lieart in his hat or not we are unable to say,
but editors are in the habit of stowing almost
every thing there.
Waiting for Dinner.— What punishment
inflicted by the laws is so severe, so irksome,
as that of being compelled to stand before a
door for an hour, after having lost your
breakfast, ami taken your wine and bitters,
and wait for the ringing of the dinne. hell ?
None. We believe that if our legislators
would only make a punishment of it, and in
stead of sentencing a person to spend a certain
time in solitary confinement, to compel him to
devote two hours each day waiting for his
dinner, standing, and on an empty stomach, it
would be a greater prevention of ermine. It
is one of those punishments which is felt.
An Old Stager. —The eastern papers are
continually tel ing lough yarns about the npm.
her ot miles their old sea captains have
travelled on the ocean, in making their trips
to different countries. Now wo know a
steamboat “ Capting” at present in this citv
who has made one hundred and seventy trips
from Louisville to Nevv-Oileans and hack !
Ton of these trips were made down the river
on a keel boat—eight times the keel boat was
worked the whole distance hack, and twice he
walked from this city to Louisville through the
wilderness. He was employed on the first
steamboat ever launched on Western waters,
and has been on them so much since that, in
river parlance, he has got to be a 4 ‘ regular
steamboat” himself. He now looks hearty
and young enough, with the present advantages
of travelling by steam, to make as many more
trips ; and such is his general character for
good humor, that when he laughs, as he al
ways does at a good joke, fears have been
entertained that he would shake the cylinder
timbers of his engine o it of place.
The distance fro.n this city to Louisville is
called, by river n>cn, fifteen hundred miles, so
that this veteran has travelled on the Missis
sippi and Ohio rivers the almost incredible
distance of two hundred and fifty thousand
miles! He knows hut little of salt spray, hut
when it comes to a Mississippi fog, solid enough
for a wagon tire, he is there.
A hard name. —A Bolander has recently
arrived in this count y who has such a crack
jaw name that it takes two men to proflounce
it.
“There’s something satisfactory even in
being poor, as the loafer said veil his pocket
vas picked of an empty wallet.
[Further; ’t is said the poor are more nu
merous at the gates of Heaven. Isn’t this
consolitory friend Pick ?]
Perhaps the knowledge that ‘causeth not to
err’ is most frequently impressed upon the
mind during the seasons of afllictiou ; and
tears are the softened showers that cause the
seed of heaven to take root and spring up iri
the human heart. I&ott.
Whether the promise that “ all things shall
work together for good to those that love
God,” is to be accomplished by perpetual sun
shine, or by incessant storms, no one can an
ticipate in his own case.
RECOLLECTIONS OF YOUTH.
No one of ordinary reflection can have pass
ed Shakspenre’s fourth division of life, with
out having felt the fondness innate of recur,
ring to the season of boyhood, when ho|ie, with
her gaudy day-dreams, seemed the living per
sonification of truth. Although that piriod in
event may seem the least important in life; and
although we may have lived to see the vapor
cloud palaces, glittering with dew-drops, rear
ed by our youthful imagination, melt away be
fore the noontide sun of manhood, still wejean
not fail to observe and feel the mighty influ
ence of those halcyon days ! which, as we re
cede from them, grow dearer anfi dearer, and
in their influence, stronger and stronger.—
Hence, we never see an old man leaning upon
his staff in the pleasant sunshine, or smoking
his pipe by the cheerful fire in the long winter
evening, who. if speaking of the present, does
not take occasion to praise t’le past.
PIANO FORTES,
From Robert Xunru Clark'*, and Geih f Walker*
Manufactories, at C. Bruno’* Music Store,
In Macon, Georgia.
BRUNO is constantly receiving from the said
manufactories,superior Pianos,manufactured ex
pressly for his establishment, of various patterns of Rose
and Mahogany, with the grand action, harp stop,
metallic plates, patent tuning pins, &c. &c., embracing
the latest fashion of furniture, with tablet and hollow
corniced fronts, veneered legs, and Grecian scrolls; all
ot which is warranted to be made of such material and
so well seasoned, as to stand the test of every climate.
A written guaranty entitles the person to exchange the
instrument at any time within one year, if not satisfac
tory, (if returned uninjured.)
Also, constantly receiving, new and fashionable Mu
sic, Instruction Books, Guitars, V iolins. Flutes, Fla«eo
letts, &,c. Guitar and Violin Strings, Ruled Music T
aper. Brass Instruments for Bands, such as Trombones.
Bugles, I rumpets, &c.
April 6 24y
A SITUATION ’
TS WANTED by a gentleman, (an old resident of
~~ Macon) in any respectable business, wherin he can
be of service. For information, address E. at the of
fice of the “ Southern Post."
Apnl 6 24tf
I Just Dropt in to See Yon All !
WI S r RECEIVED, United States Screamer, Shin
aß bone AJley, Rousing Nigger Roarer, containing all
de Nigger Songs eber wur writ: Dream Books ; a large
assortment of Plays, in pamphlet form, suitable for
I hespian Societies, for sale at the Book Store of
. .. , C. A. ELLS.
April 6 24
JUST RECEIVED^ -
riXOVVNS’ NEW SPELLING BOOKS, and a
* large assortment ot School Books, at wholesale,
at Charleston prices, by C. A. ELLS
April 6 24
JEST RECEIVED,
4 LARGE assortment of NEWMAN’S COLORS
in Cakea, Pencils, Drawing Paper, Fin* Albums,
Porcelain Slates, Visiting Card*. Superior Penknives,
Portfolios, Sot; for sale by C. A. ELL-**
Apnl* u
ORIGINAL.
For the Southern Post
TIIE GENIUS OF POETRY.
As soaring ’mid yo n silvery clouds on high,
The noble eagle seeks the azure skv,
To bathe his wings in sur ny founts of light,
Where virgin beams of day, shine ever bright,
And looks unblenched upon that world of fire*
So pure—eo quenchless—the Eternal’s pyre,
Where thunders lie entombed to bide his will
Wrought out with more than Cyclopean skill—
So fearless, so unchecked bold Genius soars
With knee unbent, and mind that ne’er adores
Save He, by whose unknown, omnific power,
The winds were made to blow the clouds to lower.
And all this beauteous world hung up to view
Like prisms sparkling in the morning dew.
To him the world is full of jewels bright,
Which shine more lustrous than the stars of night.
Rich gems of thought whose magic touch can bring
The mystic powers of the Genii’s ring,
And raise his high-born soul through varied scenes,
Up to the world of poetry and dreams.
The mat. of measured thought scarce dwecls on earth,
Scarce claims it even as his place of birth;
lor there is nothing here can clmrin Ids soul,
Or add fresh power to the high control
Os his proud genius, or can free his will,
An 1 let him soar to high Parnassus’ hill,
Where ranging ’mid those w ild Arcadian bowers,
He gathers sweetness from the fairest flowers
That ever bloomed beneath ambrosial showers.
Urania bright, with all her charming train,
And the soft numbers of her heavenly strain,
To hitn are sweeter far than is the hum
Os busy life, or beat of war-like dtum ;
While sad Melpomene with music flings,
'Unheard of sweetness in her murmuring*
O'er the full heart, till every thought on fire,
Melts to the sweepings of her plaintive lyre.
Or laughing Thalia with less solemn mein,
Awakens to his view some sportive scene,
And makes the hours of sadness flee away,
Like twilight beams before the God of day.
Thus all unite among the heavenly Nine,
To bless the votaries of their lofty shrine.
Not on Citlieron's height is felt the pang,
Which bitter malice with envenomed fang.
Inflicts on hearts pure innocence should save
From the fell power of the hellish knave;
Nor at thy fount sweet Helicon is known,
The tear of anguish, or the bitter moan,
Which o’er this lower world in saddest strains
Is heard, where grief in wildest aspect reigns.
But there in high poetic thought the soul
Sweeps upward, far above the base control
Os earth-born things, and dwells in sweet repose,
While Lethe’s waves untroubled o’er it flows.
Yet when forgetful of that nobler state,
Which can alone inspire and elevate,
The poet too can feel the keenest pain
That ever rent a human heart in twain.
If sadness o'er his spirit bears the sway,
All hope is gone, not «’en one glimmering ray
Shines 'mid the darksome gloom of mental night.
To lead him on to future scenes yet bright.
To him the strongest feelings of the mind
In Heaven’s wise Providence has been assigned;
The worst of griefs, the best of joys lo feel,
Intense extremes of human woe or weal.
And thus, if virtue be his guerdon bright.
To lead him ’mid this pathless world of night;
How rich the pleasures, how unquafled the stream,
Which flows through Eden’s lovely bowers for him.
DAVID.
Thus Israel's bard in chaste and lofty strains,
Sang sweetest notes o’er Palestina’s plains;
While his pure sj irit bent beneath the spell
Os that wild minstrelsy he loved so well.
HOMER.
And thus the bard of Greece, who struck'his lyre
111 notes so wild, that all have felt the fire
Which shone so brightly o’er the Athenian wave,
And lingers yet above his country’s grave,
A*lofty beacon ’mid the waste, waste sea,
Which dashes round thy coast, Thermopylae ;
The brightest star in all the world of mind,
The noblest genius of the human kind.
And w hen we turn to Britton's classic shore, .
Where sleep her Druid's, tuned to song no more,
A long bright list of starry names appear,
Whose merit only wore for them a tear.
Unhappy bards ! though brightly Heaven shined
O'er all your features with the glow of mind,
Vnd gleamy hopes shone o'er your future years.
Like sun-light on the hills, where morning tears
Are all dispelled; how wretched have ye been 7
How much of human misery hast seen ?
MILTON.
Couldst thou, Urania’s son, who sang of Heaven,
Tell w hat thou hast endured and what forgiven ;
Paint with an artist’s touch thy spirit’s sky,
And give each stormy cloud its fearful dye,
W hat sympathetic moans would fill our breast,
While musing o’er thy fate, though now at rest ?
BYRON.
Or ihee, sweet minstrel of our palmy days,
Who tuned o'er wietched Greece thy softest lays ;
How sadly swept thy lyre in notes of woe,
Which caused the tear of grief for thee to flow!
Sleep, lonely proud one, on thy native plains,*
While echo’’wafts along thy gentle strains;
Ev’n o’er the Atlantic wave, and other lyres
Catch from thy broken harp its thrilling fires.
Long shall sweet Poesy for thee entwine
Her riches; chaplets, round thy noble shrine,
And Fame low bending from her lofty throne,
Shall plant thy name co-equal wilh her own.
KIRKE WHITE.
Or hither Genius let thy footsteps bend,
And weep o’er White thy melancholy friend,
Whose lowly tomb the summer breezes kiss,
While his pure spirit bathes in seas of bliss.
Sure oft Melpomene will sadly keep
Lone vigils round her hero’s tomb, and weep
With a full heart o’er his untimely end.
Whom she had cherished as her early friend.
Long shall the star-lit sky shine sweetly down
On his lone tomb, unruffled by a frown;
And the soft zephyrs, o’er its marble shrine.
Weep chastest dews in the clear pale moonshine.
Nor shall one sorrow mar the peaceful res!
Os those unsullied feelings of his breast.
Which knew nought but bitterness and grief.
And found in Heaven alone a sweet relief.
But 'tis the fate of Genius; sad indeed *
Are all the feelings of his heart, which bleed
Like open wounds, while keen intensest pain
Rends all the hopes he fondly reared in twain-
Yet with that gloomy fate there comes a spell.
Which he who feels it once can never qucll
'Tis like the magic of the serpent's eys,
That charms to ruin and forbids to fly;
Or, like the vampire, while with gentle wing.
It lulls to sleep with softest breeze of Spring,
Draws from the veins the vital stream of life.
And ends at once, man's wretchedness snd strife.
Oh ! who has felt poetic streams of fire
Gush from his heart, or tremble on his lyre,
That has not prayed to have them Maze again
O'er his wrapped though *, like lightning o'er the mani
Oh! who has ever ranged the Aonian heights.
And followed Genius ut hi* lofty flight* ;