Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

fpn l THE REQUIEM. *• ll'-etl first thou If. ft in lift's In si bloom, “ The cup of toof Jor me to drum." —Byron. EiMii’Hlh the Ijtu'ittl clay ! JUririUh 1 1r* ( till .stone — AVrap|**<l in tin- nmnllc of ilecay, I liy lui-ni of pincoltil > outh i stone ! O there was sotro’y lonp and loud, V\ lit n thou wits ts r lu r'd in the shroud; \nd te;iis in fast profusion fell, ‘ When wuiliinr love hade thee farewell — But nom lie:,it more deeply hied Thau his by whom no tears were abed. Isis j;i ief was et holess— It hud no M.mnl, iji voice, or hicath, And hi- lone feeling of distress Had all the solitude of dentil, tint the sad tear-drops of the soul flowed inwardly without controul— \nd earnestly his mournful eye Was fixed in wild intensity l pon that lonely coffin lid, Where .ill he lov’d on earth was hid. lie wept his lot with none— \or told the misery of his fate; The world tor liirrr held only one— She died—and lie v, r desolate. Oh ! how he watch'd her beauty pine, And perish in its slow decline, When sic! ness blanch’d her cheek w ith care, Steeling the r se that flourish'd there— And how lie knelt at love’s command To ki.-s that soft and liily hand, And froze upon that failing eye Once glowing with love's witchery. She w as so beautiful— Even as a seraph to his eyes; The hand of death did never call A sweeter flow er for Paradise, Ves—partial nature never drew A lovelier form of fairer hue— A smile of more bewitching grace Than that which play’d upon her face— I fe deem’d she was an angel given To make lor him this earth a heaven. Enchanted hours to him ‘ And over-fraught with every bliss— Joy sparkled upward to the brim, Aid seem'd to woo his fervent kiss, ile wreath’d his harp with summer flowers, And the sweet music of those hours V\ as like the melody of spring When all her birds were oil llie wing. flow chang’d ! that heart is cold— Her bosom rests within the earth, And memory ;, dirge hath fondly told Os all her sweetness, all her worth. Unsparing death—must then the young, The innocent in heart and tongue ; T 1 • hned—the lo\ing and the gay, Aye, be the first to tall thy prey ? Alas—that mild iincltiding breast Is in the icy grave compressed ; And the dull earth-worm riots now I- pots that smooth ami marble brow. ‘I he flowers of spring shall wave Above, her solitary bed ; The gay green grass shall deck her grave. And freshly blossom o’er her head, flat long unheeded must lie sigh, A\ hen yet r on year is sweeping by ! And spring oft wither and return Before his heart shall cease to mourn But love can never die— It fastens on the fearful tomb And lilts to heaven a trusting eye, To hail a brighter, happier doom. In the det p caverns ot the grave, Rove lingers, though it cannot save : Yea, in the mansions of tin* dust, svifection springs, -tud ever must. Another dawn shall break Upon tiiis cloud-enveloped night— That lovnfy being shall awake To bloom in heaven’’ bowers of light. Though deep affection's hope was vain, And tears of anguish tell-like rain lit the last hour of mortal pain, \v hen death descended, and no prayer Could w aid the blow from one so tair ; Yet iii a happier w orld than this, A world ot unenihittered bliss, V> here joy hath nevt r rung its knell, That pure and stainless heart shall dwell. FLORIO. I HE PEN —From the Creek. 1 wirs a useless thing—a lonely reed ! No blossom hung its beauty on the weed'; Alike the summer’s sun and w inter’s gloom ; I bri ath’d no fragrant e. and I wore no Mourn; No cluster wreath'd me ; day and night t , t ed On the wild inoor,ai and w fther vi'n |,i At length a w anderer too ml u , <>m my side He smoothed t lie pale deem iug lea ves.and dyed IVly mouth in Helicon ! —from that hour 1 rjiol.e iny words w ere llame and living pow er, And there w a c\vpetnes round me—neverfell Eve’s sweeter dews upon the lilly's hell 1 shone ! nigh fled!—-as if a trumpet called, Alan’s spirit rose, pure, fiery, di enthralled! i wants ot earth; ye saw your light decline, V\ U p i stood forth a w onder and a sign ! To me the iron sceptre w as a wand, 1 In ror.rol nations p. aled f t my command t sniote the e.niter, and I broke■ tc.r chain; Or towering o'er them all wii'meta plume, I p” reed the purple air, the tempests gloom : iiil burst th Olympian splendurs on inveve ; .Stars, temples, (hr. r , -and gods—lnfinity’.’ ‘’srt'pwr rix xe x♦. , - AN AMERICAN TALE. About twenty mi lex from the hcau tilitl villa;e oi Mid-Gotham, there *lwell, in the time o! ti■ American war,Henry M—and Horatio ll—two powerlui rivals. Henry was fighting, * or tbe Independence of America Horatio to maintain the monarchy of <itvat Britain. Henry had a sou nam ed f’nleb, who commanded t. company of about one hundred men, and, with his parent, was engaged in the great cause of the revolution. John, under She'-sdireitton of his father Horatio was striving to quell the rising spirit ofliberty that was breaking forth in America. Many were the murders and deeds of honor, that were cotn mitted in those days; the peaceful m inhabitant who would lie down with pleasant prospects before liim wouid rise no more. The trusty rifle was placed by the bed-side, and the report of it was often heard at tl*e still bout of midnight ; and these were emphati cally styled the times that tidied the patriot's sou!. Yet a ji.l aff.tliis struggle, there was one iittie spot where contentment reigned ; where sweet peace drove tar away the noise and tumult of war; it was the cottage of Glen warning, situa ted in a grove of poplars. Its inmates were au old lady and her daughter. — The husband and parent were slain during the French war. The old lady had passed the meridian of life ; but the daughter, like the first rose of May, was just expanding. Matilda, though not remarkably handsome, was a girl of sweet disposition and engaging man ners ; aspell hung round her, which never failed to excite the admiration and secure the esteem of s.ll who saw her. The landscape from the cottage was sublime and beautiful; the towering hills that rose on the east and west, no eye could behold without admiration : to the north and south extended a pleasant vale ; a purling brook rose by the door, and bent its serpentine corn se through the meadows, till it shot away and terminated in a beautiful lake that lay before the eye a pure unbroken mirror. Caleb and Jonn had been schoolboys together, and both had laid claims to the hands of Matilda A— ; but a de cided preference had always been given to Caleb, and they had only wai ted for the report of “ successful or un successful war to be heard no more,” for the consummation of their wishes. Lovers are always hasty. By the protracted length of the war, aided by the entreaty of friends, the wedding was at length appointed. This was what John had long wished for, that he might more honorably accomplish his resolution under the garb of war. — There was the lurking spirit of a vil lain w ithin his breast; for lie had de termined that Caleb and Matilda should never be married, and only waited for an opportunity to put his wicked determination into execution. That opportunity soon presented it self. The morning previous to the one ap pointed for marriage, Caleb and his men were called away on an expedi tion against their enemies that occu pied the day. At the foot of the hill he dismissed his company, with the order to collect at the sound of his horn, ami then walked slowly towards its summit. He paused tosurvey the landscape that was yet tinged with the rays of the setting sun, and pleas ant ideas were mingled with the pros pect, that when the earth should be again enlivened with the bright 111a jetsy of day, he should be united to (ill that would render life sweet. W ith such thoughts w’as his mind occupied when lie arrived at the sum mit of the hill; hut, gracious God, what an appalling spectacle met his view! instead of the lovely cottage, he could discover nought but a heap ot ruins, and the smoke that yet .ascen ded from it and was borne along the southern breeze rose higher and Itiglt et, tid it mingled in the mists of the evening! At the nearest neighbors he found the lifeless corse of Matilda; and from the mother he learned that John and his party had been there, abused the old lady, murdered the. daughter, and burnt the cottage ; that, the inhab itants had collected together and done all that humanity could suggest. He grasped his sword, and over the murdered body he vowed, that he would perish m the attempt, or her murderer should die ; and then rushed from the house. The mother ran to restrain him ; but lie was far av. ay,bending his course - up the hill with the velocity of the deer. lie stopped not to view the beauties of the rising sun, that live evening before lie had anticipated with pleasure. The desire of revenge was visible upon his countenance, as he raised his horn and blew the blast shrill and long ; it echoed and re-echo ed till the sound was lost behind the; distant hills. His troops were soon around him : he raised himself upon 1 his horse, tohl them of his loss, of the murder that had been committed, and asked them if they would follow him to “victory or death.” The answer was unanimous,“ M e will conquer or we will die.” The parties were soon in sight of each other, and rusheet together ; the captains met. There seemed to be a pause among the soldiers, while their leaders fought. Justice appeared to nerve the arm of Caleb, for soon his toe lay senseless upon the field ; his sword tohl that the murderer was s lain, for it was crimsoned with his blood. He turned from the field, leav ing his soldiers to pursue his victory, and returned to the house. M hen the funeral procession was tunned, he followed as a mourner to tue grave’; the bloody sword was bu ! t ied by the side ofThe coffin, and when the people returned to their homes,he lingered behind. lie would wander to the grave, duv after day, and tell to the passing stranger the true love of Matilda. Grid like his could not last long ; and the last painful tribute vvas paid, by conducting him to the silent grave. I have since wandered to the church yard, while the roses were vet bloom ing around, the twining ivy was link ed together over the spot where they reposed ua if lo unite in the grave those whom death had separated on the earth. A. I . Mirror. How to get out. —Our readers will probably recollect a humorous anecdote, in verse, entitled Marks and Remarks , which was published in this paper two or three years since. The following is another anecdote of the same eccentric, though, it is said, worthy and ex cellent divine, who was the subject of that story, (the Rev. Emanuel (ilebe)and may afford some amuse ment to the lovers of eccentricity, j Having, a few summers ago, deter mined to make a tour, he took leave of his flock over whose souls his care was extended, with more than ordinary feelings of good will, but, as he was what the world calls “ a good liver,” he extended his care likewise over that generous and in spiring beverage, which promotes 44 the feast of reason and the flow ot soulin short, he possessed a cellar well stored with the true Fa lernian. This store must be allow ed to have naturally demanded his attention before he left home , and its security in his absence was what everv man of common care w ould have endeavored to promote, as far as possible. With this intention, therefore, the Doctor rang his bell, and his faithful servant John immediately stood before him. Then taking out of his purse a half crown, he said, “ Here, John, take this ; go to the blacksmith's in the village, and buy with it three tenpennv nails immediately.” John, delight ed with his errand, immediately re pairs to the habitation of this disci ple of Vulcan, and, paying him for the three nails, quietly profits by his master’s idea of the number of penny nails to be had for two shil lings and six pence, by pocketing the difference ; and then, crowding all sail, appears again in his mas ter’s presence. 44 Very well, John,” says the Doctor, “ now bring me a candle and a hammer, and go with me into the wine cellar, to nail up the door.” Picture to yourself now, the wor thy Doctor and John in the subter raneous vaults, consulting the sale ty of the choice spirits there im mured. 44 Give ine the candle, John ; shut the door, and drive a nail in here at the top.” John ham mered. 4 Hit it hard, John ; drive it up to the head.’ 4 1 have, Sir.’ ‘Now drive another in here, above the lock, John.’ 4 Yes, Sir.’ 4 Up to the head, John.’ 4 1 will Sir.’— j 4 Now the third here, a little way from the bottom, John.’ 4 Yes Sir.’ | Phis being accomplished,both pau -1 sed to view the work, when the Doctor exclaimed with exultation, 44 Now, John, I think we have done the business cleverly: you don’t think any body can manage to get in now, John, do you?” (John, however, it seems, during the pause at the conclusion of driving the nails, had reflected that he was on the wrong side of the door to run away, and had nailed himself and! master up in the cellar along with j the wine,in their anxiety to prevent others from getting in. He there fore laconical’ v observed in answer to this question) — 44 No, sir, I am afraid nobody can get in ; but how are we to get out?” Conviction then first flashed upon the Doctor’s; |mind, and, being considerably an- 1 noyedathis situation, he replied! | with warmth, 44 You stupid fellow, John—-why—why—why did you not tell me at first, John, you great j iool, John ; shout, John ! Oh dear, |we are fast! shout, and raise the house, John ; the servants must get assistance, and break the door down.” How the worthy Doctor and John were liberated from the cellar, we never heard. S 'idem Gazette. Hoax.— Yesterday morning, a some what arousing hoax was played o!Yup on the sporting part of our worthy in habitants. The town for some days be fore had been deluged with reports, that in consequence of bets to the amount of *a few guineas,a was to exhibit lams it in jibe way oi running rouil. The bait wuprcaAily swallow ed —mote especially as die gullibility of the puoite vvas itterkaed by cer tain intelligible hints, arf to a break fast to be given on the otcasion. The Murraygate was all astir; while the Cowgate anti the adjacent streets showed how deeply undW.ierally ex pectation hud been exitted. Faery gig, and almost every /lecuyed hack was engaged : Mr. Casl vas entered for every’ vacant seat in. the mail couch; and at an early hour kite road was crowded by persons pushing along on loot, or exposing themselves to the perils ot shattered vehicles and horses, to witness the feat. Even the coun try round poured forth its natives; persons of both sexes, who have no taste for the beauty of a summer morn ing, were seen by six o’clock, rubbing their eyes, and pressing towards the four-mile stone ; some were even afoot be lore that time, ami had taken than* posts at 1 lav post, raised upon dykes and stiles, to command a view of the road. For a time, impatience took the place of curiosity, and people looked upon each other, and wonder ed why they had come there. Mean while an attempt vvas made to extend the deception by a person returning to town with coat, vest, and other exu vteeof the pedestrian, and giving out that the feat was pu forming further on ; but the suspicion of our towns men was not to be any longer put to rest. Conjectures went abroad that ail was lot right; some began to coin , pare notes,and found that the accounts . win ch they had received, especially with regard to agree with each other. Still they were ashamed to admit that they had been imposed upon. Excus es began to be framed by them for be ing so early astir ; one person said he vvas accustomed to take a walk to the country of a morning, and was not oil his way; another took, his usual ride in the same direction ; a third had some message to carry to a friend who had summer quarters ; another had to breakfast with some lady to whom he was paying attentions; while a fifth was absolute]}- obliged to call upon his cousins, who were in bath ing quarters at Broughty Ferry. In short the meeting seemed to have ta ken place by sheer ac cident. To cloak their chagrin, the parties separated through the country, every one with a look of business : and about nine o’clock many aweary wight might be seen entering the town by Seagate,and other inlets—for few took the direct road —covered with dust and sweat, disgesting their disappointment in stead of their breakfast. [ ifundee Courier. Origin 0/ Slander. — Mother Jas per told me, that she heard Great wood’s wife say, that John Hard j stone s auru mentioned to her, that Mrs. Trusty was present when the widow Bar km an said, that Capt. Heartall’s cousin thought Ensign Doolittle’s sister believed, that old Miss Oxby reckoned that Sam Tri , Ac’s better half had told Mrs. Spaul jding, that she heard John Rhett j mer s woman say, that her mother told her—that Mrs. Garden had two lmsdands !!! Diogenes, paying Plato a visit, trod on his rich carpets w ith his dirt y feet. “ See,” said he,“ how l trample on the pride of Plato.” “ True,” said Plat 0, “ hut with greater pride.” Edmund Burke was telling Gar rick one day at Hampton, that all bit ter things were hot. Ah ! said Gar rick, what do you think of bitter cold weather ! It was an obscivation of Elwes the noted miser, that if you keep one ser vant, your work will be done ;if vou keep two, it will be half clone ; and if you keep three, you may do it your self. If you can speak no good of u per son, say nothing aboutliim. .Vine reasons better than three. Tnt Editor of the Bond of Union has receiv ed a note from a subscri ber, giving three reasons for discon tinuing his subscription, which were a wife and two cildren ; the editor assigns nine reasons why he should not discontinue his subscrip tion, which are his (the editor) having a wife and eight children. Happiness is a serious thing. While pleasure manifests itself by extravagant gaiety, exuberant spir its, and over acts, happiness re treats to its own proper region, the heart.— J here concentrating its feelings, it contemplates its treas ures, meditated cm its enjoyments, and still mote fondly on its hopes; —counts up its mercies, and feels the consummation of them in look ing to the Fountain from whence they iU-w : tee; > every hie measurably heightened by the h cheering rtHeciion, that the r exquisite human pleasures the perfection .ofhis nature u, ly a gracious earnest, a ti0m,.,.. preiibation of thatblessedu-. , v j is without measure, and shall without end. From the lUiiirnore Federal Rejns!,a Death.—Hie cellar of die. h** which we now occupy as our ti >ll oflirc, has lately been filled v’ eatlh—which (as it was unloaded; front of our oflioe) we beheld niiv j with many human bou**g— S( .| f ted a few—they are lying before and we make tlu r following rcl’oi tions, viz :—Death is the great I*, ellerofall that is animated ; o f. animated creatures man is p r , cipal, and what is man r That and lofty being who looks down an on .the creation with hauteur contempt —what is he but aim... and miserable example of atSj. ted insignificancy ; —for a while k struts his hour upon the st'ige of li[ —he dies—is buried with splendor * an immense number of survivors fe low him to the gi'AY e * pride am! o [. tentime.- affection gild his coffin;lk name is enrolled in the list of spier, did obituaries ;but in a few davs t . (grass grows on the hillock which cm. ei's his remains. The poor man, is in want even of the necessities of life, who is a beggar and subsists w the charity of oilier?, dies also ; he it not buried with splendor; few and vuy few follow him to the grave;his A 1 evinces the poverty of its inmate,and the tears of love are its only mm ments : his body is deposited next ft’ ’ that of the proud and lofty ; the cold grave is now their joint property; death, the unrelenting leveller hit made them equal; their bodies art ‘. alike the subjects of decay, and fee 1 food of worms ! They moulder afo | into dust, —and the very worn 1 which devour their stiffened bouie>; | also moulder into dust in the same grave in which nature placed them (4 fulfil the object of nature’s God. We have before us the skull est fellow creature, who has been buried many, many years. Who was he! Was he a kind and affectionate father and husband ? AVas be a kind ui sincere friend, or was he a hard heart ed monster, who bad ample Bream but refused to employ them in reliev ing the distressed ? AVas it perhaps a kind and doating mother, at whose bed a fond and loving husband shed tears of deep ..distress and mingled them with those of bis amiable oft* spring? Or was it perhaps a poor slave, who by tbe accursed custom of dealing in human tlesh, was deprive! of his liberty and became the prtijty ty of him with whom he was ‘ iwi equal ?’ Alas, we know Lot. The skull and dry bones before ‘speak not: we know not whether the? belonged to a rich ora poor inan-vt know not whether this man was res pectable or vulgar—we know not whether lie was virtuous or vicious— we know not whether he was an hon or or a disgrace to his species or soci ety : we know not whether the tears of sorrow flowed fast at his death, or whether a secret satisfaction did not smile in the bosom of bis survivors, when his lifeless trunk was deposited in the bosom of its native earth. ll* know not whether be rolled in ‘ splendid coach or begged his breadia the streets ; we know nothing of hiij —but a portion of his bones are befre us, and we do know that the cold and bitter winds of the north have biova ntanv chilling blasts over his grave, and that many flakes of snow hiw (alien on the spot where he has In® — we know that these cold blasts have been succeeded by the zephyrs of summer, and that the flakes 0! snow on his grave were disolved i<’* tn fears by a summer’s sun. But whv do we extend our recollections? A is 0! no moment to us to know who ’’ has been, but his bones remind us that death is our portion ; that the £i’' [n and unrelenting tyrant will, sooitft or later, aim a successful blow at out lives ; lie will lay us low. The very j hand that now notices his destructive and universal power, will by him-; rendered cold and motionless; very eye that may glance on these rc mai ks will be closed forever bv h - cold aud icy band, and our bodies wo‘ become food of w orms! Bet fhis solemn and awful frtJfh a solemn and awful warning to all” are living. The wealthy and p* r -‘‘ nioniou.s ; the gootl and the bath *' l virtuous and the vinous; the rich ana the poor; the master and (lie a ), e T all must die : let, therefore, “ reedy, and let not the powerful, ’ rich and the ostentatious, entert 1 ” for a moment the silly idea that ‘ 1 grave is partial, ‘flic grave all men e<jual, and death is the leveller ; but our conduct in this 11 is the criterion by which the cver' a ting doom of our immortal souls vl ‘ be eternal ly lixed.,