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About The messenger. (Fort Hawkins, Ga.) 1823-1823 | View Entire Issue (July 7, 1823)
a* trj&trjaf* 4m. a [No comment is necessary upon the merits ot’ the following piece. U appeared in a N**vv-\ ork paper, some time since, with several oth ers, under the signature of “ ( mak er &Cos.” It is true it is difficult to reconcile the idea of cranking to a production like this, which causes the blood to rush from the heart with increased velocity, and nerves the arm of the patriot with new strength.] THE AMERICAN FLAG. “When freedom from her mountain height, Unfurl’d her standard to the air, She lore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there ! She mingled with its gorgeous dyes, The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure celestial white, With streakings of the morning light; Then, from his mansion in the sun, She call’d her-eagle bearer down. And gave into his mighty hand, The symbol of her chosen land ! Majestic monarch of the cloud Who rear’st aloft thy regal form, To hear the tempest trumping loud, And see the lightning-lances driven, When stride the warriors of the storm, And rolls the thunder-dnim of heaven! Child of the Sun ! to thee ’tis given, Toguard the banner of the free, To hover in the sulphur smoke, To ward away the battle stroke, And bid its blendings shine afar, lake rainbows on the cloud of war, The harbinger of victory ! Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly, The sign of hope and triumph high ; When speaks the signal t r umpet-tone, And the long line comes gleaming on, j (fire vet the life blood, warm and wet, II as dim’d tbe glistening bayonet,) Each soldier’s eye shall brightly turn, To where thy meteor-glories burn, And as his springing steps advance, Catch war and vengeance from the glance ! Ami when the canon-mouthings loud, Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, And gory sabres rise and fall, Like shoots of flame on midnight’s pall! There shall thy victor-glances glow, And cowering foes shall sink be neath, Each gallant arm that strikes below, That lovely messenger of death. Flag of the seas ! on ocean's nave, Thy stars shall glitter o’er the brave, When death careering on the gale, Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. And frightened waves rush wildly back, Before the broad-sides reeling rack, Tht dying wanderer of the sea, Shall look at once to heaven and thee, And smile to see thy splendours fly, In triumph o'er his closing eve. Flag of the free hearts’ only home, By angel-hands to valor given ! Thy stars have lit the welkin dome. And all thy hues were born in heav en ! Forever float that standard sheet. ! Where breathes the foe, but falls be fore us ? With freedom’s soil beneath our feet, And freedom’s banner streaming o er us: um&jysrx* THE MIDNIGHT REVEL. Now o’er one half the world, Nature seems dead, and wither’d mur der, Alar'd by his sentinel, the wolf, Moves like a ghost. Macbeth. The wind of November whistled shrill and cold among the rocky precipices that jutted over the moun tain road from Alesbury towards Northumberland, as at the decline of da\, two travellers, on horseback, were crossing with weary pace the long range of ridges towards the great elbow of the Susquehannah, and notwithstanding that the clouds lay heavily on the dark and distant mountain tops,and the shadows of approaching night gathered rapidly, they paused upon the northern ex tremity of the last eminence, dis mounted, and appeared to be taking a survey of the country around them; a country embodying some of the most grand and sublime scenery in nature. To the north and south, one vast extent of forest lay out stretched, broken and diversified by hill and valley, now dimly seen but not less interesting in its aspect. In one direction was to be seen seven stupendous pyramidic piles: pushing their pine crowned summits through the black clouds, —-they seemed fit habitations lor tbe fiercc spirits of the restless elements, and one could almost fancy the angels of tbe tempest gathering to their awful dwellings in those unvisited realms,a universe of stormv clouds ; while in the west a peaceful river flowed away in calm and unbroken solitude through its devious course. Such was the scene the travellers were left surveying when twilight followed the declining sun, and the dreary night came swift upon the transient glooming. A long three miles from this, on a dim and narrow road, was a small public house called in those days the“ Inn of the Forest.” There was a thin setlement from this some miles on, chiefly men of the rudest cast in life, often honest and kind in their wav, nevertheless brooked not the control of law, and living far off from city and town, enjoyed their game, and were themselves the only umpires of each other's rights and wrongs ; such as these made up the company that gathered in the tavern that night and as the winds blew louder, and the weather grew colder without; so did their noise and rioting, and the turbu lence of their spirits increase, with in. Mingling with this tumultuous assembly arround the bar-room fire, and the long card table stretch ed out before it, were now to be seen the two strangers; they were wrapped up in fur hunting cloaks, and while one of them took part in the boisterous laugh and played his game at the card table, and drank freelv, the other stretched himself to sleep in a corner. The more sociable stranger soon acqui red the confidence of his new com panions ; and as he himself profes i sed to be a tavern keeper, he gained the especial favor of the landlord, a black whiskered, downcast, dark looking man, upon whose counten ance the stamp of vice was fixed, and who was the loudest and most clamorous in the circle, and drank and played; and boasted, and cursed with a kind of frenzied infatua tion. Their rioting was kept up through out the midnight hours; and while the wearied and inebriated guests, one by one dropped asleep, and while without, the storm sung in melancholy and plaintive sweetness through the seared pine trees, that single stranger kept one Tittle circle he had gathered around him by the fire, in fixed and wakeful attention to harrowing tales of hell devised murders, and fearful retributions, and walking ghosts, and marvelous facts brought to the light of day by supernatural agencies : and detailed a thousand instances to prove that. “ Murder, though it hath no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.” In vain the host endeavored to turn, at every period, the subject. In vain he stirred the dying embers, and invited the guest to sleep. In vain he trembled and turned pale; the traveller seemed invincible, and at every change murder and its bloody consequences were still his theme, and still his eye was fixed on the disquieted features ol the host. It was dark and penetra ting ; and his voice grew hoarse as he bid them hearken to the screech ing wood. It seemed to him, he said, to be burdened with a voice. In the words of Machbeth, 44 still it cried Sleep no more to all the house,” The company started and listened, some thought they heard a voice and some fancied they dis tinguished those very words ; what can it mean ? was the inquiry that went round; 4 Hark,said the stranger, heard you not that! listen ! Roland! Roland l Roland ! a mother and six innocent children murdered by your hand , summon you to the grave with them /” A heavy charge, said lie, as he turned towards the host, who startled at the awful import of the words, rose in wild agitation, and clenching his fist halloed as to the voice,“lf I slew you it was at another’s instigation, and the money I got for it I buried in the rapids of the Susquehannah H* “Yet lor that crime,” said the other stranger, who had till now laid silent and ap parently asleep, “by virtue of a ! state’s warrant, and in the name of the commonwealth of Pensylvania, we arrest you, Dubois’ Roland, to answer at the bar oi your country ! and as he said it, he deliberately rose, drew a pair of double barrel led pistols from bis cloak, aivd calm ly laid them on the table before him while the other, throwing aside his loose garments, stood before the as tounded man, in the garb of an offi cer of justice completely armed w'ith dirk and pistols. Resistance was in vain, the mur derer was seized and carried to the skirts of the adjoining wood, where he was mounted on horse back, secured,carried thirty miles, and lodged in jail before 9 o'clock the next morning. This was the plan adopted and executed by the members of a weak village police, in a counntry where the supremacy of the law had often been maintained rather by strata gem than open force, and by which was brought to justice and the scaffold one of the most bloody villains that ever hung upon a gal- j lows ; a man who had murdered j according to his own cofession afterwards made, a mother and her orphan family, for a price paid him by a relative, who was the next heir to a small petty estate. Shenstone, the poet, was one dav walking through his romantic re treats, in company with his Delia, (her real name was Wilmot) they’ were going towards the bower, which he made sacred to the ashes of Thompson, our harmonious; countryman. “Would to heaven (said Shenstone,) pointing to the trees of the rustic avenues ! He would have gone on, but was inter rupted. A person rushed out of the thicket, and presenting a pistol to his breast demanded his money, and Delia fainted. 44 Money says he, is not worth struggling for. You cannot be poorer than I am. Unhappy man, (says he, throwing him his purse) take it and flv as quick as possible.” Tbe man did so. He threw his pistol into the water and in a moment disappear ed. Shenstone ordered the foot boy, who followed behind them, to pursue the robber at a distance, and observe whither he went. In tw r o hours time the boy returned, and informed his master that he followed him to Ales Owen, where he lived ; that he went to the very door of his house, and peeped through the keyhole, that as soon as the man entered he threw the purse on the ground and addressing himself to his wife.—“ Take says he, the dear bought price of my honesty:” then taking two of his children one upon each knee, he said to them, “ I have ruined my soul, to keep you from starving;” and immediately burst into a flood of tears. You know’ how this tale of distress would effect Shenstone. He inquired after the man’s charac ter, and found that he was a labour er, honest and industrious, but op pressed by want and a numerous family. He went to his house where the man kneeled down at his feet and implored mercy.— Shenstone carried him home, to assist at the buildings and other im provements which made himself so poor, and I am told, when Shen stone died, that this labourer wet his grave with the true tears of gratitude. You have this story as I heard it related ; and my heart assures me it i is true. You see bv this how easily j an evil action may come from a good principle. I am persuaded there are many honest men who suffer death without deserving it; and so, probably would this man too,had he robbed anv other man than the be nevolent Shenstone. Imortal benevolence ! the richest gem that adorns the human soul!— Without thee, kings are poor, and in thy possession, the beggar is im mensely rich! In vain we crown the conquerer with laurels, and the slayer of thou sands with immortality. The real hero is seldom found in the field ; he lives peaceful and retired in the calm walks of private life. To desire little, makes poverty equal with riches. He who wants, i s'not rich, nor he who wants not, poor. Riches are not measured by their use—we cannot call large possessions riches, only so far as they are conducive to comfort. There is this difference between happiness and wisdom; he that thinks himself the happiest man re ally is so; but he that thinks him self the wisest,is gene rally the great est fool, Sympathy’, in some tempera ments, will produce the same con duct, with insensibility’, in others, the effects will be similar, although the causes that produce them will be opposite. The famous amateur Anglaise , who crossed the channel to witness an execution at Pat is, was never suspected of a want ol feeling; but the servant girl, re corded by Swift, who walxcd seven miles in a torrent of rain to see a criminal hanged, and returned sob bing and crying because the man was reprieved, may justly be char ged with a total want of compassion and benevolence. When you have nothing to say, sav nothing: a w’eak defence strengthens your opponent, and si lence is less injurious than a bad reply. There is this paradox in pride, —it makes some men ridiculous, but prevents others from becoming I so. ! it is not every man that can af ford to wear a shabby coat; and worldly wisdom dictates to her dis ciples the propriety of dressing be . yoncl their means, but living within them ; for every one sees how we dress but none see how we live, except we let them. But the truly : great, are, by universal suffrage, exempted from these trammels, land may live or uicss as they . please. Royal favorites are often obliged it.o carry their complaisance further ‘•than they meant. They live for , their master’s pleasure, and they die for his convenience. THE SABBATH. The salutary effects of public wor ship are so numerous and so obvious that they have not escaped the notice of the most careless spectator. This institution of heaven has a direct and powerful bearing upon almost every interest of Man, as a social, rational, moral and immortal being. Few things have a greater influence over the friendly affections of the heart, than a regular attendance on the house of God. When around the public altar and mingling our prayers and praises ,to a common parent in Heaven, we i can hardly fail of receiving a deep i and practical impression, that we are •all connected by the strong ties of universal brotherhood. A sympathy j for our fellow worshippers is awaken ed ; and order, and harmony, and friendship in society are its necessary and spontaneous results. There is a social intercourse —a mingling of af fections in the temple of Jehovah which form a much stronger bond of union among men, than any thing which is excited in assemblies of dissipation or parties of pleasure. The house of God, too, is a school of intelligence. Here subjects are discussed, and if the ; gospel minister be qualified for nis ! office, in a manner calculated to awa | ken and engage the highest powers of intellect. The human mind has gene rally attained its most vigorous growth ! and valuable information has been most extensively diffused in those pla ces where this institution of God has been properly revered. That the practical morality ol the world is de pendant on the instructions and ordi nances winch Delong to public worship lias hardly ever been denied. A vir tuous community can no where be found upon the globe, except in those places where the people assemble with conscientious regularity for the duties which are required of them. Heathen countries are proverbially abandoned and degraded; and those parts of Christendom in which little or no at tention is paid to the Sabbath, approx imate to the degradation and abandon ment ot pagans. But this heavenly institution is, by too many, treated with practical neg lect. It might be supposed, that pro fessors ot religion would surmount al most every obstacle in order to visit the house of God upon the Sabbath. But alas ; some frivolous excuse often robs them of all the blessings of the sanctuary. Some slight indisposition, which is sure to vanish before the light of Monday morning—or a little “ cloud not bigger than a man’s hand” ( is deemed an adequate apology for ab sence from the assembly of the saints. Alas, liovv can such persons wade through “much tribulation” to the kingdom of heaven ? Some who make no profession of religion, are rarely ever in the house of God. While the saints are engaged in acts of public worship, they are seeking the pleas ures of attending to their worldly bu busincss. As to them, the sanctuary was built in vain ; mi vain lias Christ purchased salvation for sinners; and in vain does the messenger of the cross proclaim the grace of God to man. Nine tenths of the happiness of man kind depends on their being contented in the situation for which the God of Nature bus designed them. lie who employs his head is notso unhappy he who employs his hands without mental anxiety. The thought of this ought to check improper ambition. Part of a sermon delivered near Litch jh Id, England. You who have ears to hear, eyes to see, tongues 1o taste, throats to swal low, draw near l say, and pick up the crumbs I shall scatter among ye ; the crumbs of comfort wherewith ye must, be crammed, until ye become chickens of grace ami are cooped up in the coop of righteousness*. If your hearts are as hard as a Suffolk cheese or a Nor folk dumpling, my discourse shall beat them as it w?re upon a cobler’s lap stone until they become softas a roast ed apple—aye, even as soft as a i us. tard, and melt within ye like a mar row pudding. Do you know what trade Adam was ? If you don’t I’ll tell you. Why, Adam was a planter—fo he planted the garden of Eden. Now do you know what was the first tliin i: Adam set in his garden ? 110, ho, you dont, dont you ? Then I will tell ye— his foot ! his foot, I say, was tile first thing Adam set in his garden. But. lie could not keep it there ; no, no, ne he could not keep it there, for Lucifer came behind him, tripped up his heels, and trundled him out head and shoul ders. I’ll tell you a secret: I say, l’U tell you a secret. Knees were made before elbows. For the beasts of the field were made before man, anti have no elbows at all: therefore down on your marrow-bones and pray for mer cy, else you will be turned into Beel zebub’s under ground kitchen, and made turnspits to Satan. An English gentleman being taken ill of the yellow fever at Jamaica, a lady, who had married in that island indirectly hinted to him, in the pre sence of an Irish physician that at tended him, the propriety of making his will in a country where people are so apt to die. The physician thinking his judgment called m question, tartly replied, “By Jasus, Madam, I wish you would tell me that country where people do not die, and I will go and end my days there.” NOTICE. — The following are a list of free persons of colour who have caused their names to be registered in my office since the first day of January last, in conformity with the law in that case made and provided. Names. Ages. Where born. How long re si- Occupation. dedin Georgia. Jenney 42 Virginia 25 years Spinner Solomon 22 Georgia £2 Waiter Berry 7 do 7 Stephen 5 do 5 Caroline 3 do 3 Nancy 2 mo. do £ months • Extract from the Hook of Registry. JAMES FLEWELLIN, Clerk . Bibb County, 30th June, 15 \ nVovmalkm Wauled. A NY person or persons having ® knowledge of JAMES HAR VEY WASHBURN, (a native of Massachusetts) within the space of 12 years past, will confer a great favor by enclosing and forwarding in a let ter, such information, pet mail, to 11. MOIITON. Telfair County, Geo. 15 iCT'Kditors of papers throughout the U nited States, will have the good ness to give the above one or two in sertions. .\OT\Cti. ILL be sold on the first Tues v t day in September next, in the town of Louisville, agreeable to an or der of the honorable court of Ordinary of Jefferson county, nine hundred and thirty-six acres of land, lying in the county ol Jefferson,on the waters of Drj creek, adjoining lands of Win. Mar shall, and others: It being the real es tate of Benjamin Davis, dec’d and to hi sold for the benefit of the minor heirt ol said deceased. Also two hundred and two and an half acres, lying in the county of Wilkinson, known by lot No. 7, in the 16th district of said county, belonging to the subscriber.— Terms made known on the day of sale. Elizabeth Davis, Jidm'x. June 20, 1823. 15—60d. ♦\u VAectAou IV ILL be held at John Keener’s on the 19th July next for Judge of the In terior Court, to fill the vacancy occa sioned by resignation of I). Lawson, and for County Surveyor to fill the va cancy occasioned by the resignation J. B. Grace. J. DAVIS, J. r. c. b. o. c. VV. RAINES,/. r. c . *. c-. June 30. 15.,
