Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

... i-i - ■.— rt - m-vmvm.>• “>■; ’ ~<< .f i, ■ r-fi <vv r, ,***•• vVIvL.V It oni the American fatal Oilman. TO HIE SAILOR. Far, far oVr t. mpost driven waves, i l.c Sailor nobly, t horny braves. No cloud of sioi ms, thal darkly flies, Inn dii .;h n mage in his eyes — ‘ l-’iMir V; . ofdatiger’ and the storm, AMiv hate ye tlms your manly form, And tempt inclement ski.-s? Why now aloft on treacherous shroud, Sing ye so merrily and loud? That echo —fairy of the air, Wakes enchantment rich and rare, A nl bears it on the cloud. Is danger thus fainili;.: grown? Herd, need, ve not t! . cloudy frown, That spreads its gloomy influence round, And gives to light a dai ker bound, Than desolations own? Wild, w ild o’er ocean rules the wind, Like the maniac terrors o’er the mind, Thy ships careering to the gale, Now dips in ocean Hag anil sail, Now lulls with dooming dread, the mast, And death shrieks mingle with the blast, (> who can tell the talc ! Now, now, () Heaven ! the dreary light That chills the heart, that blasts the sight, Cast from the rocky skirted shore, Where angry w aves grow bright before The bark, at mercy of the blast, Without the helm, or sailor mast Or help of anchor more. Sailor, there is a Light for thee Vet kindly lingers on the sea *, Tho’ rude the storm or rough the wave And shipwreck terrors round thee lave Till/ (Lnl is still with Hire. THE SERPENT—From Dr. Cross. The serpent alone is an anomaly in the midst of animals, and forms an interruption in the gradation—a break in the continuousness of their system. That an animal of such passions and powers should be necessitated to trail its length in close prostration over the earth’s roughness, is quite unaccountable upon natural principles, but tallies well with the doom recorded in sacred writ: “Thou art cursed above all cattle, and above every beast of the field ; upon thy belly shah thou go.” The sentence pro nounced seems to imply that the animal had originally possessed feet, which either were, as a penal forfeiture, stricken off', or allowed to decay through disuse, conse quent on the assumption of the i\ ing posture. W hethef this animal w as chosen, on account of its cru elty, as the most suitable instrument for effecting the diabolical purpose against mankind, or whether the cold cruelty of that animal, now become proverbial, mav have partly 7 resulted from the Divine curse; certainly the arch-fiend could not possibly have received a truer rep resentative in the shape of flesh and blood. The lachrymal gland for supplying tears is altogether wanting ; and generally the salivary glands, instead of saliva, furnish venom, of which the fangs are the conduits and innoculators. Os be nignity there is none—of sympathy there is none—of remorse there is none. Well was that glistening and variegated surface calculated to delude artless, credulous woman, from suspecting those eyes without a tear —and those ears deaf to the shriek > of fear, and to the groans of agon\ —and that heart, through which live blood that circulates is told—and that mouth, whose sole du‘\ is to grasp, and w bile grasping to poison—and that throat which opens wide for devouring—and ihat maw, so insatiable as to glut itself, at every meal, into a long continued lethargy. INTERESTING A C COUNT Os the Religious Ceremony of taking the Veil. From a volume of Travels m Spain, by an Englishman, just published, a London paper selects the following i own ful description of the glowing i assiors, tal! human, l.r.ifdivine widen are eye* ted in the bosom of a youthful female destined to monastic seclusion, j,i;(| of tin solemn ceremonies that ac lompany lo r final renunciation of the “Wot id.— .A n t . Egis. There is an extreme eagerness in the Catholic professors of celibacy, both male and female, to decoy voting persons into the toils Irotn which they themselves cannot es cape. —W ith this view they have disguised the awful ceremony, which cuts off an innocent gii 1 from the sweetest hopes of nature, with, the pr.mp and gaycty which man kind have unanimously bestowed on tlie triumph of legitimate love. i !ie whole process which condemns a female “ to wither on the virgin •thorn, ,r and “ live a barren sister all her life,” is studiously made to represent a wedding. The unc< ™“ scious victim, generally m her fif teenth year, finds herself, lor some time previous to her taking the veil, the queen—nay, the idol of the whole community which has ob tained her preference. She is con stantly addressed by the name of bride,’ and sees nothing but gay pre parations for the expected day of her spiritual nuptials. Attired in a splendid dress, and decked with • all the jewels of her lumily and I friends, she takes public leave of all her acquaintances, visits, on her wav to the convent, several othei nunneries to be seen and admiied by the recluse inhabitants, and even] the crowd which collects in her progress follows her with tears and with blessings. As she approach es the church of her monastery, the dignified ecclesiastick who is to perform the ceremony, moots the intended novice at the door, and leads her to the altar anv.d the sounds of bells and musical instru ments. The monastic weeds are blessed by 7 the priest to her pres ence ; and having embraced her parents and nearest relations, she is led by the lady who acts as bride’s maid to the small door next to the double grating, which sepa rates the nuns’ choir from the body 7 of the church. A curtain is drawn while the abbess cuts ofl the hair of the novice, and strips her of her worldly ornaments. On the re moval of the curtain she appears in the monastic garb, surrounded by the nuns bearing lighted tapers, her face covered with the white veil of probationship, fixed on the head by a wreath of flowers. After the tr deuin, or some other hymn of thanksgiving, the friends of the fa mily adjourn to the locator if, or vis iting-room, where a collation of ices and sweet meats is served in the presence of this mock bride, who, with tiie principal nuns, at tends behind the grating, which se parates the visitors from the in mates of the convent, in the more austere convents, the parting visit is omitted, and the sight of the novice in the white veil, immediately after having her hair cut off, is the last which, for a whole year, is granted to the parents. They again see her on the day when she binds herself, with the irrevocable vows, never to behold her more, unless they should live to see her again crowned with flowers, when she is laid in the grave. Instances of novices quitting the convent during the year of proba tion are extremely rare. Ibe cere mony of taking the veil is too sol emn, and bears too much the char acter of a public engagement, to al low full liberty of choice during the subsequent noviciate. The ti mid mind of a girl shrinks lrom the idea of appearing again in the world, under the tacit reproach of fickleness and relaxed devotion. — The nuns, besides, do not forget their arts during the nominal trial of the victim, and she lives a whole year the object of their caresses.— Nuns, in fact, who after profession, would ha\e given their lives for a day of free breathing out of their prison, it has been my misfortune to know; but 1 cannot recbllect more than one instance of a novice quitting a convent; and that was a woman cf obscure birth, on whom public opinion had no influence. That many nuns, especially in the more liberal convents, live happy, I have every reason to believe ; but on the other hand, I possess indu bitable evidence of the exquisite misery which is the lot of some un fortunate females under similar cir cumstances. 1 shall mention only one case in actual existence, with which I am circumstantially ac quainted. A lively and interesting girl of fifteen, poor, though connected with some of the first gentry in this town, having received her education un der an aunt who was at the head of a wealthy, and not austere, Fran ciscan convent, came out, as the phrase is, ’to see the world,’ pre vious to her taking the veil, i often met the intended novice at the house of one of her relations, which 1 visited daily. She had scarcely been a fortnight out of the cloister, when that world she had learned to abhor in description, was so Visi bly and rapjrlly winning her affec tions, that at the end of three months she could hardly disguise her av vi sion to the veil. Ihe day,howey er was now fast approaching which had been fixed for the ceremony, without her feeling sufficient reso lution to decline it. Her lather, a good hut weak man, she knew too well could not protect her from the ill treatment of an unfeeling moth er, whose vanity was concerned in thus disposing of a daughter for whom she had no hopes of finding a suitable match. The kindness of her aunt, to whom the distressed girl was indebted for the happiness of her childhood, formed besides, too strong a contrast with the un kindness of the unnatural mother, not to give her wavering mind a strong, though painful bias towards the cloister. To this were added all the arts of pious seduction so common among the religious of both sexes. The preparations for the approaching solemnity were, in the same time, industriously got forward with the greatest publicity. Verses were circulated, in which her confessor sang the triumph of Divine Love over the wily sugges tions of the impious. The wedding dress was shown to every acquaint ance, and due notice of the appoin ted day was given to friends and relatives. But the fears and aver sion of the devoted victim grew in j proportion as she saw hersell more I and more involved in the toils she had wauled courage to burst when site first felt them. ft was iti company with my friend Leandro, with whose private history you are well acquainted, that 1 often ; met the unfortunate .Maria Francisco, j His efforts to dissuade her from the j rash step she was going to t ike, and ; the warm language ii which he spoke j to her father on that subject, had made j her look, upon him as a warm and sin- j cere friend. The unhappy gill, on the ! eve of the day when she was to take j the veil, repaired u> the church, and j sent him a message, without, mention ing fier name, that a female pendent requested his attendance at the con fessional. YYitu painful surprise he found the future novice at his feet, in u .-hue bordering on distraction.— When a flood oi tears allowed her ut terance, she told him that for want of another friend in the whole world to whom she could disclose her feelings, she came to him, not, however, for the purpose of confession, but because site trusted he would listen with pity to her sorrows. YY ith a warmth and elo quence, above her y .ars, she proto ted that the distant tenors of eternal pun ishment, which she feared might be the consequence of her determination, could not. deter her from the step by which she was going to escape the in cessant persecution of her mother.— in vain did my friend volunteer his assistance to extricate her from the appalling difficulties which surround eel her j m vain did he offer to wait upon the archbishop, and implore his interference ; no offers, no persuasions could move her. She parted as it ready to take the scaffold, and the next day she took the veil. The real kindness of her aunt, and the treacherous smiles of the other nuns, supported the pining novice through the year of probation. The scene I beheld when she was bound with the perpetual vows of monastick life, is one which 1 cannot recollect w ithout an actual sense of suffocation. A solemn mass, performed with all the splendour, winch that ceremony ad mits, preceded the awful oaths of the novice. At the conclusion of the ser vice, she approached the Superior of the order. A pen, gaily ornamented with artificial flowers, was put into her trembling hand, to sign the engage ment for life, on which she was about to enter. Then standing Before the iron grate of the choir, she began to chant, in a weak and tainting voice, the act of consecrating of herself to God ; but having uttered a few words, she fainted in the arms of the surroun ding nuns. This was attributed to mere fatigue and emotion. No soon er had the means employed, restored to the victim the power ol speech, than with a vehemence which those who knew not her circumstances attributed to a fresh impulse of holy z.eal, and in which the lew that were in the painful secret saw nothing but the madnessNof despair, she hurried over the remain ing sentences, and sealed her doom for ever. The real fceliNgs of the new vota ress were, however, too much suspect ed by her more bigoted or more re signed fellow-prisoners; and time and despair making her less cautious, she was soon looked upon as one likely to bring disgrace on the whole order, bv divulging the secret that it is possible for a nun to feel impatient under her vow s. The storm ot conventional per secution (the fiercest and most pitiless „1 alt that breed in the human heart, had been lowering over the umnpp; young woman dor.ng the snort tun which her aunt, the Prioress, survived. Hut when death had left her friend less, and exposed to the tormenting ingenuity of a crowd ol female zealots, whom she could not escape for an in stant ; unable to endure her misery, she resolutely attempted to drown herself. The attempt, however, was ineffectual. And now the merciless character of Catholic superstition ap peared in its full glare. The mother, without impeaching whose character, no judicial step could be taken to prove the invalidity of the profession, was dead; and some relations and friends of the poor prisoner were mo ved by her sufferings to apply to the church for relief. A suit was institu ted for this purpose before an ecclesi astical court, and the clearest evi dence adduced ot the indirect com pulsion which had been used in the case, but the whole order of St. Fran cis considering their honor at stake, rose against their rebellious subject, and the Judges sanctioned their vowN as voluntary and valid.—She lies still in a state approaching to madness, and death alone can break her cliaius. Providential Deli verance — Amon g the scenes of terror of which Smyrna has been at different times the theatre since the commence ment of the Greek insurrection, the following effecting circumstance occurred: —While the murderers were forcing in the doors ol hou ses with their carbines, a poor Catholic family, in the neighbor hood of these massacres, was in a desperate situation. False security had hitherto made them neglect the necessary precautions. Ihe un happy father did not perceive his error till his door was pierced through and through by a shower of musket balls. - The only means that remained to save his wife and numerous family from inevitable destruction, was to escape over the roofs of ihe houses. The moments were precious; the door was al ready giving way to the efforts of the assailants. Taking his young est son in his arms, he climbed from his own to the next roof, followed by his trembling wife with an irufant at her breast; and after her bis four daughters. But this flight was : soon interrupted by a cross street. ! The> already heard, on the neigh i boring terraces, the furious cries of their pursuers ; it was necessary jto venture the dangerous passage ’ over the street. The father, inspi ; red with new strength, pulled a ; plank from the adjoining house, and laid it across the street; so that it rested on the two opposite roofs, and oifered a narrow, inse- I cure bridge to this unfortunate fam ! ily. But the imminent danger of falling was not the onlv one that threatened them; the street thev had to cross was that in which the shot, the cause of the tumult, had been fired. I< was full of furious lurks, whose continual firing alarmed them. But they had not time to consider. At last one of the daughters ventured on the nar row board ; but at her first step an hundred muskets were discharged at her. However, she reached the opposite roofs without injury; and hei sister who followed was equally fortunate Meanwhile the rest of the family were discovered by the furious Turks on the neighboring roofs, and a shower of balls from that side also assailed the unhappy fugitives. Urged by alarms from all quarters, they all crowded at once on the frail bridge, which at first they hardly thought would support one person. All the shots were now directed to the same point, and pierced in many places the board which bent under their weight; but it seemed as if Provi. dence covered with his tegis this unhappy family; not one was wounded : all reached the opposite roofs, and thence the residence of an European family; where the father, exhausted by exertion and mental agitation, as soon as he found himself in safety, fainted away. From the N. Y. Daily Advertiser. Canal of Darien —lt is well known that many have imagined that it is practicable to cut a canal across the Isthmus of Darien, the dividing line of North and South America, i’he Isthmus is only about sixt\ miles wide from the Atlantic on one side to the Pacific on the other. il_this scheme could be effected, the benefits which the North Ame rican States, anti many parts ol Atlantic South America would de rive from it, would be ol immense advantage to the trade with the Pacific regions, and the commerce with China and the East Indies. Strong objections to the feasibility of this plan have been urged, re sulting lrom the supposed nature of the soil, which is by some as serted to be extremely rocky, and difficult of excavation for the pur poses of constructing a canal. Whether these objections are or are not true to the alledged extent, is not perfectly ascertained. But even admitting them to be true, they do not demonstrate the im practTcability of a canal in that quar ter, provided certain accounts of that section of country (which have at least the appearance of authenti city) are correct. From thence it would seem that nature has by means of rivers and bays, nearly completed a canal of her ow-n con struction. The following are some of the accounts to which references can be made by those who leel in terested on the subject: Extracts translated from volume third of the “ Geographical and Historical Dictionary of the Western Indies of America namely, Peru, New Spain, Terra Finna, Chili, and New Grenada —by Colonel Don Antonio de Alcado, captain of Spanish Guards, and member of the Royal Historical Academy, printed at Madrid 1788, by license of gov ernment. “ Mandinga —a small town or set tlement, of the province and govern ment of Panama, and kingdom of Terra Finna. It is situated on the bank of the river Mandinga, near its entrance into the sea, and is placed on j the top of a mountain, where there is j established a look out or watch itower, from which they inform the I governor of Panama what vessels they see approaching. The river Mandinga ; rises in the mountains of Chepo and runs east until it discharges itseif into j the bay to which it gives its name. The course of the river is only four leagues, and the navigation of it is prohibited under penalty of death, on account of the facility that it affords ; to a passage to the South Sea, which was effected through its means by the 1 pirates or buccatners, John Guarlem, : Edward Blomen, and JJarliiolemew Sharp, in the year 1679. The Hay of Mandinga, on the coast of the province and government of Darien and tlie South Sea, in the same l kingdom is large handsome and well .sheltered —it has many little islands, j both in middle of the bay and on its j shores. Santa Maria —a town in the Pro vince and Kingdom of Terra Finna, ; established there in the proximity of j the rich gold mines discovered in that j district, it abounds in herds of swine ; and different kinds of vegetables. It j lies in the most interior part of the j gulf of St. Michael, near the coast of ! the South Sea and at the entrance of j the river Tuira. In the year 1680 this ■ town was sacked by the pirates, who . destroyed the fort built to defend the I mines and town. This place is in ! seven degrees and fifty minutes of | latitude, in two hundred and ninety nine decrees ot longitude. NOTICE. nn HE Subscriber informs the Citi -1 zens of 8188 COUNTY that his books being now open, he is ready to receive their returns of taxable prop erty. He will be found at the store of Capt. A. Meriwether when not ab sent on his official duty. Jonathan Jl. Hudson, H T. /?. March 31 2—ts The Subscriber begs \ea\e to inform the citizens of Clinton and New l'ovvn, and their vicinities, that he carries on the Baking business, and will supply both places with AND at such stated periods os may suit their convenience. He hopes by as siduity and a competent knowledge of the business, to obtain the greater part of public patronage. ROBERT AD JIMS. N. B. Orders will be furnished at short notice and on liberal terms. March 21st 1 3t Writs, Sheriffs Deeds, common do. Sheriffs WvV.s of Sa\e v Juror’s Summons, Justice’s do. do. Executions, Subpoenas, Gamuts, &lc.* for side - v \t tins office,