Newspaper Page Text
tkfM'Ml
■
The following l'm<s were written l y l!l ‘' i . , ' , ' l, j
John’ Trumbull, author ol Met mi al,
add to Miss Nancy Cook, m to.- year
]77>. The cirruinstanccs which gave rise
to them were as follows:
Trumbull and Thomas Wooster,
both of whom have since been men ol
eminence, were fellow students at law
at Governor Griswold’s, father ol the
late Governor Griswold ol Connecti
cut. Roth of them were in the habit o’
visiting the family of the Hon. J. I*.
Cook, whose daughter Nancy was a
voun* r lady ol uncommon beauty and
accomplishments. Wooster became
extravagantly fond ol her, but the con
ducted with the prudence becoming
her station, not manifesting any par
tiality for him more than others who
visited the house. At one of these
parties, Trumbull, who was alwyas
full of vivacity, observed to Nancy,
that Tom was so bashful he never
could tell her bow much he loved her,
and therefore be would persuade him
to address her by letter. Soon alter,
Trumbull wrote the following witty
lilies, and sent them to Nancy with
out the knowledge of W coster ; but as
all concerned knew that it was the
production of Trumbull none were of
fended, and it became the subject ol
frequent mirth at their family parties.
It is supposed that it was published
about that time ; but this communica
tion was taken from the original,
found a few years since in thediawei
of the table occupied by Trumbull and
Wooster, and all others who subse
oeently studied law in that oflice.
1 Port. States.
To thee, Dear X‘ancy, thee my sweeting,
Poor Colonel Thomas sendeth greeting,
Whereas, so pleas’d the powers above,
I’m fallen most desperately in love;
For Cupid took a station sly,
In one bright corner of vour eye,
And from his bow let fly a dart,
Which miss’d my ribs and pierc’d my heart;
Pierc’d through and through, and passing fur
ther,
Put all my insides out of order.
Nor this the only plague I found;
Cove entered at the viewless wound :
As Mire into a Cheese will creep
Through some small scratch, and eqfenngdeep
While all without looks fair and w ell
They leave Vour Cheese an empty shell,
So thievish love w hen once got through
Stole and bore off my heart to you,
And left me heartless still at ease
An empty shell like ‘V-cse.
I Col. Toni being in g :if t
Beseech yon to return my heart;
Or else to” cure my ceaseless moan,
Make an exchange and send your own.
Oh! Nancy, thee 1 love more fully
Than ever Hudibras lov’d Tuljy:
Not Pinos of old nor Dido,
Could love one half so much as 1 do.
1 hold my Nancy more a Goddess
Than Venus gay, or Dian modest;
Throughout the world thy glories shine,
Nor hath the sun sucli pc” eras thine ;
Thy beauty keeps the world together,
Thy looks make fair the cloudy weather;
And if a drought should come again,
If you ,-hculd frown I know twould rain.
For you, the earth produces flowers,
For you clouds drop in lovely showers;
Fruits only grow that you may eat,
And Pigs and Calves to find you meat.
Your cheering smiles w hich w e observe,
Should you w ithdraw, the world would starve;
Fiarth would refrain her wonted store,
And plumbs and peaches lie no more.
Oh Nancy-! would you love but me
How mighty glad poor Toni would be;
Fd stick to you like pitch forever,
Not chance nor fate our love should sever.
Then love me Nancy, for 1 tell you
1 am a pretty clever fellow ‘.
And you must think tis true, for why
No one ran tell as well us I.
Here follow then, without objections,
The “ Rent-roll” of poor Tom’s perfections.
Know then all womankind that I_,
When stretch’d out straight am six feet high,
Whence from plain reasoning it appears
I’m one of nature’s Grenadiers
Yeti do whisper this between us —
Serve only in the wars ot \ enus.
I’m fair, and one good sign observe is,
1 have r> and hair Ma’am at your service.
Os wit 1 brag not, yet have brains
Enough, to walk in when it rains;
I know the odds ’twixt cheese and chalk,
To tell a hand-saw from a hawk ; L
To c ane u man if he abuse rue,
Anri hang my self if you refuse ine.
mm a mm mmmm ii mummmmmmmmmmm ————— mtemmmm ——
” SKfS'OaiaiiLMm
Irma the Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life.
TIJF, F AMILY-TfIYST.
The fire had received an addition of
a large a.sh-roof and a heap of peats,
and was beginning both to crackle and
blaze; the hearth-stone was tidily
swept —the supper table set; and every
seat, bench, chair and stool occupied
by its customary owner, except the
high-backed, carved, antique oaken ar
med chair belonged exclusively to the
good man. Innocence, labour, content
ment, and mirth, were here all assem
bled together in the wide low-roofed
kitchen of this sheltered farm-kouse,
caller! from its situation in a low
woody dell, the How : and ali that was
wanting to make the happiness com
plete was Abel Alison himself, the
master and father of the family. It
seemed to them that he was rather la
ter than usual in returning from the
city, whither he went every market
dav. Lut though it was a boisterous
night in April, with a good drift ol
snow going, tiiey had no apprehensions
whatever of his safety; and when they
had heard the trampling of his horse's
feet on the gravel, up sprung half a
dozen creatures of various sizes to hail
him at the door, and to conduct the i
colt, for so they continued to call a :
horse about fifteen years old, to his ,
fresh-strawed stall in ‘.he byre—All
was right—Abel entered with bis usu
al smile, bis wile helped him oft with
his great coat, which had a respecta
ble sprinkling of snow, and stiffening
of frost; be assumed his usual scat,
or, as his youngest son and namesake,
who was the wit of the family, called
it, his throne, and supper immediately
smoking on the board, a blessing was
said, and a flourish of wooden spoons
ensued.
Supper being over, and a contented
silence prevailing, with an occasional
whispering remark of merriment or af
fection circling round, Abel Alison
rested himself with more than his usu
al formality against the back ot his
chair, and putting on not an unhappy !
but a grave face, told his w ile, and
family, and servant, all to make up
their minds to hear some very bad
news nearly affecting themselves.
There was something too anxiously se
rious in his look, voice, and attitude,
to permit a thought of his wishing to
startle them for a moment by some
false alarms. So at once they were
all hushed—-youngand old—and turn
ed towards their father with fixed
countenances and anxious eyes.
“ Wife—and children —there is no
need, surely, to go round about the
bush —I will tell you the worst in a
word. lam ruined. That is to say,
all my property is lost—gone—and
we must leave the How. There is
no help for it—we must leave the
How.”
His wife’s face grew pale, and for a
short space she said nothing. A slight
convulsive motion went over all the
circle as if they had been one body, or
an electrick shock had struck them
all sitting together with locked hands.
* Leave the How !’ one voice sobbing
exclaimed—it was a female voices—
but it was not repeated, and it was un
certain from whom it came. “ W by,
Abel,” said his wife, calmly, who had
now perfectly recovered herself—“ if
we must leave the How, we must leave j
a bonny sheltered spot, where we,
have seen many happy days. But!
what then ? surely there may be con
tentment found many a where else be
sides in this cheerful room, and round
about our birken banks and braes.—
For myself, 1 shall not lose a night’s
rest at the thought, ami you, Abel,
can bear it; and God bless you, I have
known you bear a severer blow than
this!”
Abel Alison was a free, warm hear
ted man, of a happy disposition, and
always inclined to look at every thing
in a favourable light. lie was also a
most industrious hard working man.
But he could not always say ‘ nay,’ —
and what he earned by a month’s toil
he had more than once lost by a mo
ments easy good nature. He had
sometime before imprudently become
security for an acquaintance, who had
no such rightful claim upon him—
that acquaintance was a man of no
principle—and Abel was now ruined
—utterly and inevitably ruined. —
Under such ’ circumstances, he could
not be altogether without self re
proach—and the kind magnanimity of
his wife now brought the tear in his
eye. “ Aye—aye—l was just the old
man in that foolish business. I should
have remembered you, Alice—-and all
my bairns. But 1 hope—l know you
will forgive me —for having thus been
the means of bringing you all to pover
ty.”
Upon this, Abel's eldest, sou—a
young man about twenty years of age,
stood up and first looking with the
most respectful tenderness upon his
father, and then with a cheerful smile
upon all around, said, “ Father, never
more utter these words—never more
have these thoughts. You have fed
us—clothed us—educated us—taught
us what is our duty to God and man.
It rests with ourselves to practice it.
We all love you—Father—we are
gratelul—we would all lay down out
lives to save yours. But there is no
need of that now. What has hap
pened? Nothing. Are we not well
—ali strong—-cannot we all work ?
As God is my witness, and knows my
heart, l now declare before you, fa
ther, that this is not a visitation but is
a blessing. Now it will be tried whe
ther we love you, father; whether you
have prayed every morning and every
nijiht for more than twenty years for
ungrateful children ; whether vour toil
in sun and rain, ami snow, has been
thankless toil, or whether we will not
all rally round your grey head, and
find it a pleasant shelter—a smooth
pillow—and a plenteous board;” and
with that he unconsciously planted his
loot more firmly on the floor, and
stretched out his right arm, standing
there a tall, straight, powerful strip
ling, in whom there was visible protec
tion and succour for his parents and
theit declining age.
One spirit kindled over all—not, a
momentary flash of entlu siasm, not a
mere movement of pity and love to
i wards their father, which might give
| wav to dissatisfaction and desponden
| cy.but a true,deep,clear reconcilement,
of their souls to their lot, and a resolu
tion not to be shaken in its unquaking
power, by any hardships either in an
ticipation or reality. Abel Alison
saw and felt this, and bis soul burned
within him. “\N c shall all go to ser
vice—no shame in that. But we shall
have time enough, to consider ot all
these points before the term-day.—
We have some weeks before us at the
How ; anil let ns make the rqost ot
them. Wife., children* are you all
happy ?”
“ All—all —perfectly happy —hap-
pier than ever,” was the general burst
of the reply.”
“ Stir up that fire, my merry little
Abel,” said the mother, “and let us
have a good, full, bright blaze on your
father’s lace—God bless him 1”
Abel brandished an immense poker
in both hands, and after knitting his
brows, and threatening to dim a mur
derous blow on the temples of thebeau
tiful little Alice on her stool close to
the ingle, and at her father’s leet, a
practical ioke that seemed infinitely
amusing, lie gave the great ash root a
thump that sent a thousand sparkling
gems up the wide chimney, and then
placing the poker under it like a lever,
lie hoisted up the burning mass, till a
blaze of brightness dazzled all their
eyes, and made Luatb start up from his
slumbers on the hearth.
“ Come Alice,” said the father, for
we must not be cheated out of our
music, as well as our money, “ let us
have your song as usual, ir.y bonny,
linnet; something that suits Ihe sea
son ; cheerful and mournful at the
same time Auld iatig syne” or
“ Lochaber no more.” I will sing
them baith—Father—first the ane and
then the aither ;” and as her sweet sii-j
ver pipe thrilled plaintively along,!
now and then other voices, and among
them that of old Abel himself, were)
heard joining in the touching air.
“.Children said the old man, sup
pose we make a Family-Tryst, which.,
|if we he all alive, let us religiously!
j keep —ave —religiouslv, for it will be
! a day either of fast or of thanksgiving.
Let us all meet on the term-day that is
I believe, the twelth day of May come
a twelve month, on the green plot of
ground beside the Shaw Linn, in which
we have for so many years washed our
sheep. It is a bonny’, lone, quiet spot,
where nobody w ill come to disturb us.
We will all meet together before the
gloaming and compare the stories of
our year's life and doings, and say our
players together in the open air, and
beneath the moon and stars.” The pro
posal was joyfully agreed to by all.
Family worship was now performed.
Abel Ylison prayed as fervenlly, and
with asgreatfnl a heart as he done the
night before: For his piety did not
keep an account current of debtor and
creditor with God. All was God's ;of
liis own he had nothing. God had cho
sen to vary him the mode and place of
his few remaining years on earth. M as
that a cause for repining? God had
given him health, strength, a loving!
wife, beautiful children, a good con-j
science. No palsey had stricken him, j
no fever had devoured him ; no blind- 1
ness darkened Ids path. Only a few
grey hairs were as yet spirinkled
among the black, His boys could
bear being looked at and spoken to in
any company, gentle or simple; and
his daughters, they were like the wa
ter lilies, that are serene in the calm
clear water, but no less serene a
mong the black and scowling waves.
So Abel Alison and all bis family lay
down on the beds, and long before mid
night cheywere all fast asleep.
The time came when the farm ; the
bonny farm of the How, w as given up,
and another family took possession.
Abel’s whole was taken by the
new tenant who was a good and hon
est, and merciful man, at a fair valua
tion. With the sum thus got, Abel
paid all his debts ; that large fatal
one; and his few small ones at. the
Carperter’s shop, the Smith, and
Widow Anderson’s the green, grey,
black, brown, and white grocer, of the
village; and then he and his family
were left without a shilling. Yet
none pitied them; they were above
pity. They would all have scorned to
beg or borrow, for many of their neigh
bors were as poor, and not a great
many much richey than themselves af
ter all ; and therefore they set their
cheerful laces against the blast, and
it was never felt to touch them. The
eldest son immediately hired himself
at high wages, for his abilities, skill
and strength were well known, as
head servant in the next parish ; w hich
was famous for its agriculture. The
second son, who was of an ingenious
and thoughtful cast of character, en
gaged himself as one of the under gar
deners at Pollock-Castle; and the
third, Abel the wag became a shep
herd with an old friend of his father's
within a few hundred yards of the
How. The eldest daughter went into
service in the family ot the Laird ot
Southfield, one of the most respecta
ble in the parish, ‘t he second was
kindly taken into the Manse as a nurse
to the y< nug children, and a compan
ion to the elder ; and Alice, who, from
tier sweet voice, was always called the
Linnet, became a shepherdess along
with her brother Abel. The mother
went to the hall to manage the dairy ;
the Baronet being a great man for
cheese and butter; and the father li
ved with herfin a small cottage near
the Hall-gate, employing himself in
every kind of work that offered itself,
for he was a neat handed man, and
few things out of, doors or in, came
amiss to his fingers, whether it requir
ed a delicate touch ora stron<r blow.
Thus were they all settled to their
hearts content before the hedge-rows
were qoite green ; and though some
what. scattered yet were they all with
in a two hours journey of each other,
and their hearts were all as close to
gether as when inhabiting the sweet,
lawn, bird-nest like cottage of the
How.
‘Flic year with all its seasons, fleeted
happily by ; the long warm months of
summer, when night brings coolness
rather than thfc shut of light; the fitful,
broken and tempestuous autumn ; the
winter, whose snort, but severe days
ot toil in the barn, and cheerful fire
side-nights, with all their work ; and
all their amusement—soon —too soon,
it is often felt, gives way to the open
weather and active life of spring; the
busy, working, enlivening spring it
self—were now flown by—and it was
now the day of the Family-Tryst,
the twelfth-day of the beautiful but
capricious month of May.
( To be concluded next v:eek.)
• From the U. S. Gazette.
Literary and Scientific Intelligence.
Effects of Cold. —ln the Journal
of Capt. Parry’s Expedition to the
Arctic Regions, w r e find that the
most surprizing effect of an ex
it emely low’ temperature, was that
produced upon the mental faculties
of such as were exposed to it. A
party having been sent out inquest
of some men, who had been led too
far Irom the ship by their eager
ness to secure a wounded stag,
Capt. Parrj desired two young
midshipmen, who seemed to have
conducted the search, to come into
his cabin that he might make inqui
ries about an individual, who had
not yet been found. “ When I
sent for them into my cabin,” savs
the commander “ they looked w ild,
spoke thick and indistinctly and it
was impossible to draw irom them
a rational answer to any of our
questions. After being on .board
a short time, their mental faculties
appeared gradually to return with
the returning circulation, and it
was not till then a looker on could
easily persuade himself that they
had not been drinking too freely.
To those who have been accustom
ed to cold countries,this will be no
new remark; but I cannot help
thinking, (and it is with this view
that I speak ot it.) that a man may
have been punished for intoxica
tion, who was only suffering from
the benumbing effect of frost; for
I have more than once seen our
people in a state so exactly resem
bling that of the most stupid intox
ication, that I should certainly
have charged them with that of
fence, had I not been quite sure,
that no possible means were affor
ded them on Melville Island, to
procure any thing else than snow
water.
A circumstance connected with
the intense cold of the atmosphere,
is sufficiently striking to deserve
mention. We allude to the great i
audibility of sounds in the open air.
It being very common to hear at
the distance of a mile or more, per
sons talking together at the ordi
nary pitch of voice ; and “ to clay,”
says the captain in his Journal, “I
heard a man singing to himself, as
he walked along the beach, at even
a greater distance than this.” This
fact we need hardly observe, is ow
ing to the entire stillness of air:
being unagitated by those currents
which are produced in the atmos
phere of more temperate climates
by the mixture ol its different heat
ed portions in their tendency to
find their own level and restore the
general equilibrium.
From the Connecticut Her aid
Restlessness seems to lie rooted in the
very neture of man. When we are
young, we wish to be older, and when
we gflhv old. wc long io be HB
again. In childhord we are
to our parents and masters; H
think how happy, we should be s
co'ihl l>’ bee as a grown ip
W hen v e are men, we find
tin’ victims ol care, and ih c sie v / Er
necessity and w e look w islil'u!i%- ”■§
to the careless innocence of
\\ hen we are young w e envy the' T ’Eb
his activity and vigor ; when web®’
reached our lull strength, \y e ‘"'‘Ml
hack on the light sports and thouJfß’
less frolics of our tenderer yean B
‘I lie child loves the proud <lispl av 'j''E
man makes; and the man looks v M
a sad fondnees cm the fresh beau tv iffll
Hie child. Hope is glowing, and‘.,!
Git ion is strengthening in the
bosom, and he therefore always \.VE
forward and places his paradise ’ E*
some bright fancy, which he
shall find when he comes tonianluJß
The man has lived by the unfit ir.
happiness ; he has found |,L p f) M
fainter, and his enjoyments less w.M
mint ; and he therefore looks back 9
the sweet years of his bovhoml ar®
sighs to think that youth should tv ®
grow older. B
“ I/homme sans urgent.—\ | Tl ®
without money is a body without ®
soul—a walking death—a spectr®
that frightens every one. lbs Col)|| ®
tenance is sorrowful, and his convex I
satiou languishing ami tedious. If j®
calls upon an acquaintance he neve®
finds him at homy, and if lie opens 1®
mouth to speak, he is inteiupted,evc®
moment, so that he may not have ®
chance to finish his discourse, vvhici®
it is feared will end with his askin®
for money. B
He is avoided like a person infe®
ted with disease, and is regarded as a®
incumbrance to the earth. Yu®
wakes him up in the morning, at®
misery accompanies him to his bed ®
night. The ladies discover that!®
is an awkward booby—landlords b®
lievethat he live upon air, and if I®
wants any thing of a tradesman, he®
asked for cash before delivery.” I
First Love.— Talk of first love ®
the world may, we nevei experienc®
in a second any thing half so svte®
The object beloved the second tin®
may be more amiable —may be mw®
deserving of affection, but in the bstß
there is a novelty of circumstance an®
feeling—an untasted cup of joy, whicliß
in a repetition falls short of it®
original flavor. We are in a secon®
affection, going over a path already!
trodden ; in the first, we explore a r.ew I
track covered with wild roses a l ;®
spontaneous luxuriance, that diifusrs!
odours, which lose of their freshnessß
on being again exhailed. We alway®
know vve are in love the second time®
from our former experience. The ■
first time we are novices, and receive!
our maiden impressions gilded by I
brighter hopes, and hallowed by a I
sanctity that casts almost a religions!
holiuess over them. Repetition oil
lov e grows more and more sensual ; r.B
is in youth’s first affection only that I
a love, like that of angels is exchanged I
—etlierial unstained, lucid with hea®
venly purity. First love is like youth,l
virtuous, full of generous impulse and I
exalted feelings, fn successive visi*fl
tations it becomes corrupted, as ini
advancing years we get more ami‘mow I
the creatures of circumstance, interest, I
ami the world's custom. Youth is I
infinitely nearer the optimism content I
plated by moralists and philosophers I
than manhood. “ Love,” too, it nasi
been observed wisely, “ is always near-1
er allied to melancholy than to jollity I
or mirth.” The instance recorded ol I
the purest and most exalted passion I
are among the sedate temperaments. I
The souls that feed upon themselves, I
that keep back from the multitude,!
that cannot put up with common place, I
but aspire to idealties and creations ot I
their own—these have generally the I
earliest, the most durable, and the I
deepest impressions from love.
An Irishman and an Englishman fal
ling out, the Hibernian told him if l' c
did not hold his tongue, he would break
his impenetrable head,and let the brum*
out of his empty skull.
An old lady, proverbal for her
pride of Christianity, one afternoon
discovered while in the midst
her work, the reverend shepherd
of the flock of which she was *
member, within a few paces and
the house, and making straight to
the door. Wishing to be thought
well employed, she threw her spin
ning aside and seized her spectacle 1
and biblc, though she coulcl n ct
read a word, sat down, and ‘ va ’
engaged so deeply at the time the
good man entered, as not to obserW
him until he gently tapped her on
the shoulder ; with “ la! macU n1 >
do you read with your bible u P s ' l s,
down?” ‘ k O dear it is Mr. *
said she, “ I always read so ;
left handed
