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THK Dl iXIST.
The prorri- of hi* youth was bright,
Amt fortune tent her Mime ;
Amt genius like a burning light,
illum’d liis path the while:
Amt friendship wove a burnish'd chain,
And hound it round his brow,
And dearly whs he I >v and again
By her who heard his vow.
He lov’d and was belov’d 1 ween,
By one as young as he,
~l'hc tidiest maid that on the green
►Spotted in maiden glee.
One glance of her tweet eyes of blue,
Was worth an age of bliss ;
And O! they smiled on him too true
For such a world as this.
lie hud a mother, and her joy
H as centred all in <>iie,
The ‘pirit of her noble boy
Was, of her world, the sun.
And though the winter of her age
Came o’er the wreck of years,
His -mile could all her grief assuage,
And dry her flowing tears.
The birds were sporting in the grove,
’’l’was in the month ot May,
When to Matilda and to love
He gave is ham! away.
The (lowers a sweeter fragrance threw,
The heart age could not dim,
Rich as the fountains of the dew J-
W ith blessings teem ‘d tor him.
I saw him stand amid them all,
And pay his plighted vow— •
I saw him when love’s e uonal
Bloom'd freshly on his brow.
1 Saw him in hi? love-lit bower,
When all was bright and gay
Alas! that e-ver caine tin linin’
That s.vf.p t its bloom away.
Twas on n summer’s eve like this,
He wander’d far ulona;
But first he stole a parting kiss
From her his chosen one.
And as, in whispers, tremblingly,
lie said, “My love farewell!”
I saw a tear bedim his rye—
I saw his bosom swell.
$
He went—but ne’er return’d again—
He went at Honor s call,
To shed liis blood like crimson rain—
Ingloriously to full
He fell! —and at the cottage now,
Down on the village green, %
AVith hollow cheek and dewy brow
Is young Matilda seen.
And nightly, by the pale moon's beam,
She wanders to his rest—
And still fecal’s the cruel dream
That wrings her bleeding breast.
He sleeps! am! near him gently sleeps
His aged mother dear;
/Matilda only lives, and keeps
Her weeping vigils here.
HOME.
Breathes there a man with soul so dead,
Who never to hitnself hath said’
This is my own, mv native land !
W hose heart hath ne’er within him hum and,
As home his footsteps he hath tarnd,
From wandering on a foreign strand !
If *i h there breathe, go mark him well;
For him no minstrel raptures swell;
High though Ids titles, proud his name,
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ;
Despite those titles, power aud pelf,
The wretch concentred all in self,
Living shall forfeit fair renown,
And, doubly dying, shall go down
To the vile dust from w hence lie sprung,
Unwept, unhonoured, and unsung
Ley of ike Last Minst re!.
MS'CSUAHTs
The following is extracted from Gra
ham’s descriptive sketches of Vet mont.
The spirit manifested is such as no li
beral man can condemn though the act
itself might have went too fat—still
it is an excellent story, and believed
to be a true one, and will furnish
amusement to most persons who have
not before seen it*—JV’t’Zes’ liegistcr.
u The farmer, in question w*e a
plain pious man, regular in tin; dis
charge of his duty both to God and
his neighbor; but, unluckily,lie hap
pened to live near one with whom
he was not inclined to cultivate ei
ther civil or friendly terms. This
troublesome personage was no oth
er than a monstrous overgrown he
hear that descended from the moun
tains, trod down and destroyed the
corn fields, and carried olf whatev
er he laid his paws upon. The
plundered sufferer watched him in
vain, the ferocious and cunning an
imal ever finding methods to elude
his utmost vigilance ; and at last
it had learned its cue so thoroughly,
as only to commit its depredations
on the Lord’s day, when it knew,
from experience, the coast was clear.
Wearied out with these oft repeat
ed trespasses, the good man resolv
ed,on the next Sunday, to stay in
the fields, where with his gun he
concealed himself. The bear came
according to custom, he fired and
shot it dead. The explosion threw
the whole congregation (for it was
about the hour oi the people’s as
sembling to worship) into conster
nation. The cause was enquired
uitoi as spon as the pastor, deacon
“ and clikto became accjuainj^dwith
it, they called a special meeting of
• the church and cited, the offending
brother before them, to shew cause,
if any he bad, tvhy he should not
I he excommunicated out of Christ’s
Church, for liis dating impiety. —
In vain did he urge from the scrip
tures themselves that it was lawful
to do good on the sabbath day, he
pleaded before judges determined
to condemn him ; and the righteous
parson, elders and church, viva
vein- agreed to drive him out from
amongst them as polluted and ac
curst. Accordingly he was enjoin
ed, (as is customary on such occa
sions,) on the next Sunday to at
tend his excommunication in the
church. He did attend—but not
entirely satisfied with the justice of
the sentence, and too much of a sol
dier to be scandalized in so public
a manner for an action which he
conceived to be his duty, he resolv
ed to have recourse to stratagem ;
he therefore went to the appoint
ment with his gun, loaded with a
brace of halls, his sword and cat
ridge box by his side, and his knap
sack on his back, with six days pro
vision in it.
Service was about half over when
he entered the sanctuary. He mar
ched leisurely into a corner and
took his position. As soon as the
benediction was ended the holy par
son began his excommunication, but
scarce had he pronounced the words
w offending brother,” when the hon- j
est veteran cocked and levelled his i
weapon of destruction, at the same
time erving with a loud voice, “ pro
ceed if you dare, —proceed and you
are a dead man !” At this unex
pected attack, the astonished cler
gvman shrunk behind his desk, and
his opponent with great deliberation
recovered his arms. Some mo-
ments elapsed before the parson
had courage to peep from his eccle
siastical battery ; when finding the
old hero had come to rest, he tre m
blingly reached the order to the el
dest deacon desiring him to read
it. The deacon, with stammering
i accents, and eyes staring with af
iright, began as he was command
ed', but no sooner had he done so,
than the devoted victim again le
velled his piece, and more vehe
mently than before exclaimed, “ de
sist and march—l will not live in
shame—desist and march I sav, or
you are dead men !” Little need
had he to repeat his threats —the
man of God leaped from his desk
and escaped ; the deacon, elders,
and congregation followed in equal
ttepidation, the greatest confusion
prevailed, the women with shrieks
and cries, sought their homes ; and
the victorwas left undisturbed mas
ter of the field and of the church
too, the doors of which he calmly
locked, put the keys in his pocket,
and sent them with his respects to
the pastor. He then marched home
with all the honors of war, lived
thirteen years afterwards, and died
a brother in full communion ; decla
ring to the last, (amongst his in
mates,) that he never tasted so great
a dainty before.”
CAUSE OF THE AMERICAS REVOLUTION.
From Tudor’s “ Life of James Otis.”
When president Adams was min
ister at the court of St. James, he
often saw his countryman, Benj’n
West,the late president of the royal
academy. Mr. West one day ask
ed Mr. Adams, if he should like
to take a walk with him, and see
the cause of the American revolu
tion. The minister having known
something of this matter/ smilec
at the proposal, but told him that
he should be glad to see the cause
of that revolution, and to take a
walk with his friend West, any
where. The next morning he cal
led with agreement, and took Mr.
Adams into Hyde Park to a spot
near Serpentine river where he
gave him the following narrative,
she king came to the throne a
young man surroufided by flattering
courtiers ; one of whose frequent
topics it was, to declaim against the
meanness of his palace, which was
wholly unworthy a monarch'of such
a country as England,—They saic
that there was not a sovereign in
Europe who was lodged so poorlv,
that his dingy, old, brick palace of
St. James, looked like a stable, ant
that he ought to build a palace sui
ted to his kingdom. The king was
fond of architecture, and wouk
therefore more readily listen to
Mich suggestions, which were in
fact all true. This spot that you
| see here was selected for the site,
between this and this point, which
were marked out. The king tip
plied to the minister* on the sub
ject, they inquired what sum would
be wanted by his majesty, who said
that he would begin with a million ;
—they stated the expenses oi the
war, and the poverty of the treasu
ry, but that his majesty’s wishes
should betaken into full considera
tion. Some time afterwards the
king was informed, that the wants
of the treasury weie too urgent to
admit of a supply from their present
means, but that a revenue might
be raised in America “to supply all
the king’s wishes. This sugges
tion was followed up, and the king
was in this way first led to consid
er, and then to consent, to the
scheme for taxirtg the colonies. —
Mr. West always acquitted the king
of all blame in the measures con
nected with the American war; but
asserted, that he was from first to
last kept in ignorance of the true
state of the Question, and of the sit-
A 1
uation of the colonies, and constant
ly deceived by the misrepresenta
tions of those about him. Though
it is unquestionably true, that the
king was led unwarily into the dis
pute with the colonies, and that the
cles’gn of taxing them was planned
by others, yet he interested himself
in it very deeply, and seemed to
consider the struggle as a personal
concern of his own. His character
was naturally firm, in this case it
became obstinate; and he yielded
with the utmost reluctance his hold
over the colonies. The loss of this
power however was soon found to
be a mutual advantage to both
countries, and perhaps served to
cure him of any wish to imitate
the arbitrary views ot the Stuarts.
Iron Church. —The following is
extracted from the Christian Ob
server for April 1823. We had
not before known that such large
portions of Churches had been built
of iron
“ St George’s Church is an object
of considerable architectural inter
est for its taste, and as having been
nearly the first cast iron church
erected in the kingdom. The
whole of the frame-work of the
windows, doors,pillars, groins, roof,
and pulpit, and ornamental enrich
ments, are of cast iron. The length
of the church is 119 feet ;the breclth
47. It is ornamented with a splen
did cast window of stained glass
The tower, raised to the height of
96 feet, and standing on a hill, the
site of an ancient sea beacon, is ele
vated 345 feet above high-water
mark, and commands one of the
finest views in the kingdom, com*
prehending the town and shipping
of Liverpool, the estuaro of the
Mersey, the level surface of Lanca
shire, as far as the eve can trace
the prospect, with the craggy hills
of Walls towards the west, and
towards the northeast the distant
mountains of Cumberland and
Westmoreland. The contemplative
Christian, viewing so many of our
churches thus characteristically si
tuated, will be inclined to see in
them an apt emblem of what the mi
nisters of Christ themselves should
ever be, u guides and way-marks in
the path to bliss ;” or in still, more
authoritative language, “ cities set
upon a hill which cannot be hid.”
.ts Costly Subject. —A surgeon in
England, desirous of having a subject
for the benefit of his pupils, agreed
with some of the alt-night people to
procure him one. At about half past
11 at night, a subject was accordingly
brought, and placed in the parlour for
the night. The surgeon retired to
rest, and early on the following morn
ing he went to the parlour for the pur
pose of removing his purchase to the
dissecting room. The bag was there,
but the subject had left, most uncour
teously, taking with him plate to the
amount of 40/.
THE VIRTUE OF PHILOSOPHY.
“ Does! thou veil to he angry for llie gourd ?”
Or to fret at any of the petty acci
dents of life ? T hou discontented
mortal, undoubted descendant of
Jonah, why dost thou suffer a cloud
to gather on thy brow, because
there is a little one no biger than a
mail's hand rising in the sky! Be
serene thyself, and it will import
thee little whether it rains or
blows.
Os all the vile habits that of fret
fulness is the least tolerable.—
Many offensive things which vul
gar people do, are sometimes laid
aside, and their neighbours are
occasionally freed from annoy.—
But fretfulness is a king of perpet
ual motion excited no less by a
creaking than by a fit of the gout.
It is a voracious monster, and feeds
upon minute as well as vast vex
ation. Let us strive therefore to
pluck off this blister from the heart,
and even in the hottest and most
oppressive days of lile, care not
whether the shelter of a “ gourd be
extended over us or taken away.
On a review of what I have thus
far written, I believe there is no
occasion to look so far back as the
history oi an ancient paophet for
an instance of anger employed up
on ti i lies.—ls I should lift the win
dow sash of my study, I should
discover whole companions fretting
and fuming for the “ gourd.”
Walking in a studious mood by
the side of a neighbor’s garden
fence, I observed him stamping
upon the ground with much disor
der, that I concluded he was in
convulsions, or practising a dance
of. St. Vitus. Humanity urged
me towards him, and I medidated
medical,rather than moral aid.—
But to my eager question of “ what
aileth thee ?” he replied to iny
astonishment that the bugs had
blighted all his cucumbers , and was
not that enough to make a man
mad i I endeavored to compose
his perturbed spirits, and quoted
to him Seneca on tranquility ot
mind, and part of one of Basil’s
Homilies, but all in vain.—l re
tired. The Laij Preacher.
The author of “ The Emerald
Isle,” in a speech at a meeting of
the Catholics of Dublin, thus per
sonifies Bigotry;—
“ She has no head, and cannot
think—no heart, and cannot feel!
W hen she moves, it is wrath—when
she pauses, it is amid ruin—her
prayers are curses—her God is a
Demon—her communion is death
—her vengeance is eternity ! her
Decalogue is written in the blood
ot her victims—and if she stoops
fora moment in her infernal flight,
it is upon some kindred rock, to
w het her vulture fang for keener
rapine, and replume her wing for a
more sanguinary desolation !”
Slander. —Against slander there
is no detence. Hell cannot boast
so toul a fiend : nor man deplore
so tell a foe ; it stabs with a word,
with a ned—with a shrug—with a
look—with a smile: It is the. pesti
lence waiding in darkness, spread
ing contagion far and wide, which
the most wary traveller cannot
avoid; It is the heart-searching
dagger of the dark Assassin : It is
the poisoned arrow whose wound
is incurable : It is the mortal sting
of the deadly adder Murder , is its
employment. Innocence its prey—
and Ruin its sport.
The Tear —A tear is what? ’Tis
the overflowing of the cup of sensibil
ity —the index of a soul fraught with
feeling—the aliment of a heart droop
ing in solitude—with the base, ’tis the
arms ot warfare against the innocence
of loveliness, simplicity and beauty ;
with woman, ’tis the shield of defence
against the wily and insidious —her
weapon of defence to the cold, the
obdurate, the unfeeling; with the pa
rent, ‘tis the blessing of age on the off
spring of youthful vigour and affec
tion ; with the child, ’(is the support
ing staff of filial piety; with friends,
’tis the token of tiie communion of
souls to the afflicted, ’tis the adminis
tering angel of consolation—the bairn
ot Gilead to the wounded spirit—the
dew of sympathy to the withering flow
ers of sorrow.
From a Peunsi/loania Paper.
Las Friday week bein de 4t dav ob
dis mont, a grate many ladies and gen
tlemen ob kolor met at Paxton Creek,
long side de pike pond, where we kotcli
a deblislt big snapper. Arter some
time he wur roast and skin’d will some
good ham, de hole bein wash down wid
whiskey ami lasses —ilovt name it. l)e
brocession den move up to de brick-kill
where Mass Zeck, deliber de folloin
orashun.
Ladies and Gentleman*—As it is
sposen dis respeckable conneckshun
bab neber kno what dis day wur made
lur, I guess lie better pay strick atten
sliun tiif I tell um. In dese present
time, dare be so many people dat lib
in ignorance and all sort ob destruc
tion, dat de Lord liesell harly kno what
he make him lor, an unless you lain
somethin consarnin dis day in ginral,
or de worl in particklar, you will be
no better dan some ob de wites over
yantler.
Ladies and Gentlemen—-You all
hab hear about one Hroder Jonatan,
who transport dis kolony once afore
arterwards. Wen he cum here he
fight the Injin olf dis lan, a ful lake
pe aceablc possession heself, alter SUt .
lose hescallup an git roast miid, |;i’
yon. snapper you kotch. Deiihe*,,!
coin, an punkin, an buck-wheat f Ur |
own eatin, much as he want, an be ~!
to grow as fat as de possum in and,. ji"‘
stubble: Butde king ob Englin,lij.fl
hear ob dis gude luck, cum ober i n T,
boat an ax uin to go babes— J 0 | lat
swear he tarnation clear ob any Slic l
ting. Den de king lif up he f 00 t an
kick uni, and Jonatan he kick back V
bofe got in grips, and tie king hap,’!!!
to git lick’d. Arter dis, he promi’ L‘
on lie honor neber to cross de
agin, and so he wallnp home. J ()tu
taa wur so grad on occashun oh ,|jj
fight, he soon get mighty drunk which
happen as I say afore, on de 4t day of
i!is moot, an for dat bressed happily
we all had a right to take frolick e lV>
since.
Ladies and Gentlemen—Dig is ( | f ,
lan ob freedom and distinction. p;[, (V
ry man an woman hab a right to do ,| r
bes for heself. Nobody liub any rite
to put us in limbo for debt, only mi ml
de back step—don't let um kotch veil
stealin. As de harbest will soon be
here now at dis present time, hope y ou
all go to work an take care yourself.
Keep tis upper lip, an dat is all 1 | ia [|
to say.
I)e kumpany den sat down in a par
pendiclar line, de ladies on de tense
wen dese louses wur drunk an mud!
fun—
De 4lli ob July —wonder why he so
long comin ebery time—guess cans
he so good.
Song—Twas in de mont ob July,
In de year ob ’Bl
Cornwallis he surrender,
To Ginral VVasbiiitiiu.
President Buyer of Uayti-—’ Take
care boy—l guess hekno a little.
Song —Unit to de Chief,
n in. 11. Crawford —Like to see de
breed cross—lndian squaw, he nigger,
big childer an two at once.* Clear de
track as John Darnel say when he
saw de big brack ram comin tumpin.
Song —Du uce to de gal uiidde yellow shawl or.
De Suskehanna riber —de lan ob de
cat-fish and eel. 5 ague shake.
Slabery —May de planter ob de sout
neber hab he boot black, he coat brush,
he head comb, he face wash or he nose
clean. Go way white man, Ell bun
you vvid a chunk. 2 grunt.
De corkus legislater— Leake at both
ends—hope he hole de water next
time, no catchee no habee.
Tune—Go to de HeL.il and shake youself,
Cum back agin and beliabe youself. *
De sea sarpent *—When he cum he
cum—when tie cum he no cum.
Bose eyes shut.
John Binns —Box de compass—-eat
poke-bery —hang he frien an cheat oie
G tongue out.
De stepping mill —Hope he inven
tor take first ride on him hesef.
Six Curse.
De Pirates —on de sea unsafe—on
de lan uusartain.
Song—Vou know what happen arter dat,
John Kutty my Jo.
‘Clipse an Sir Harry —He run as
taster as eber he could tor he soul.
8 Horse luff.
De fair seek —more water an less
paint.
Song—Oh weep for de hour,
When to Missey Dinah’s bow’r
In a berry dark night Mr. Sambo come.
De president of de day now gib de
signal for no more toase, on suspicion
ob de genteman gettin noisy aqd de la
dies on defense ginnin to cus an hollo,
so Bill Cuff, he ax pennishin to sing a
song an deliber de follovvin, all <lc
kompany keepin step.
Eat de meat, say your prayer,
To make you able,
Winegar shoes an papir stocking
Stan back—take care,
Reuben Reed, Reuben Reed,
Front step—hack step,
On de head de wool he grow
Brake down get ober dt.
I went down de bay shore,
Dare i saw ole Granny Grace,
She look as ugly in de lace,
As when 1 hab half a pint ;
Reuben Reed, &tc.
I look on de mantle piece,
I saw a monkey face,
Shinin in a lookiu glass;
Turn about, half roun :
Reuben Reed, 6lc.
Old aunt Kate, old aunt Kate,
What you got for supper,
Cold milk and bunch ol faggot;
Cold ham and little rabbit;
Reuben Reed,kc.
I went don n to sea shore,
Dare 1 hear de crabs a knockin ;
Ketch de lady roun de wait,
Ami ask he how de Juba taste;
Reuben Reed, &c.
Sambo had a son born,
Jus like he daddy O,
Bow he shin crack he toe,
De double step to Juba O ;
Reuben Reed, Reuben Reed,
front step—back step,
On de head de wool he grow,
Brake down get oler dut.
A self-conceited coxcomb was inti' o,
ducing an acquaintance to a larg e
company, whose physiognomy was not
very prepossessing; thinking to be
extremely clever, lie thus addressed
the company, who rose at his entrance 1
“ I have the honor to introduce <y° a
Mr.———, who is not so'great a foul a* 1
he looks to he.” The voung man if’
mediately added “ Therein consist*
the difference between my friend and
me.”