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t* A * ■ ■ 1
OR,R\l.\ AND S' A SHINE.
" ns wf ;urn our Beks
Fr m cm ; i ntpatiK :i, thrown into his grave,
N:> his t .tniiLrs in i>ls burledfortunes
>■ brink ...i ..vv.o..’’
•Why do you koep me for so long a time |
at tile door V s iirl Edvvar! F. passionately to |
his wile. The night had passed, hot its cold ;
V'intl <-liftrod the horse, as Mis. F. with a
sorrowful Ik art, undid the look.
•It is late, Edward: and 1 con! 1 not keep
lroni slumbering.’
Ho said nothing in return to this: lust flung |
himself in a>clviif, and gazed intently on the ,
fire. His son climbed upon his knees, and
putting his arms round the fat hi r’s ik ok, vvliis
t. -rod, “papa, what has mamma horn frying
for?’ -—Mr. F. started—shook c!i' Ins hoy,
r.nd said with violence, ‘get to bed, sir, what
business has your uiollk r to lot you he up at
this hour V
The poor child's !ow< r lip pout and ; but hr
•was, at this ti.no, too much frightened to cry.
His sister sih nt!y took him up; and when lie
had readied i is cot his warm heart discharg
ed itself of its noisy grief. The mother heard
his erring, and went to him; but she soon
returned to the parlour. Him leaned upon
hei husband and bus addre ssed him: ‘Ed
ward, i will uot upbraid you on account of your
harshness to me —blit 1 implore of you not to
tot in tins inanu. r before your child.m.—
You are no! Edward as you uscd’to he! Those
hettvv eyes f ell of wretchedness, as well us of
badi hours. You wrong me—you wiong your
self, thus to let my hand show i am your wife
—b it at the same time let vour heart know
singleness in matters of moment. —1 am aware
of t kind of society in which yon huv, late
ly nut dged. Tell me, Edward, for Heaven’s
g>:u, toll me!—wt arc poor—We are reduced!
weAirc ruined !—is it not so?’
Edward had not a word for his wife; but
i ipltn’s tears err more awful than his words.
‘Well, be it so, Edward! Our children
jnay. stiff'. r from our 1..11; but itVill rcdcuuh
ray exertions for them. And as for my sell,
you do not know me if you think that circum
stances 1 ssen my feelings ior you. A wo
man’s love is like the plant v. hich shows its
.strength the more it is trodden on. Arouse
yourself my husband—it is true, your lather
■Eas cast you off, and you are indebted to him
,n a serious sum—hut lie is not all tire world!
•*—-only consider your wife in that light.’—
A slight tap was now heard at the door, and
Airs. F. went to ascertain the cause; she re
turned to her husband : ‘.Mary is at the door j
♦-—he says you ahvuyi kissed her before she j
■fent to Leu V
‘My child—my child,’ said the fathc r; ‘God
bless you —I am not well, Mary:—Nay, do
r.ot speak to me to-night; go to rest now—
give me one of your nr tty smiles the u.orn
ing, and your father will ho happy again.
Mr. t F. too was persuaded by Ins affection
sto partner to retire ; hut sleep and rest was
rot for him—his wife and his children had
once given him happy dreams—hut now, the
ruin he had brought upon tin.ni was an awake
ning reality.
When the light of the morning appeared
■above the line of the opposite house, Mr. F.
arose.
‘Where are you going Edward ?’—said his
vviie. ‘1 have been considering,’he replied,
calmly, ‘and-am determined to try my lather,
lie loved me when I. was a boy—was proud
of me. It is true, I have acted dishonorably
by him. Yesterday 1 spoke harshly of him;
but I did not then know myself. \our dear
affection, niv wife, has completely altered me.
1 ncvci can forget mj ill tiva. . nt towards
you; but I will make uj> for it—l will—in
deed I will—Nav, do not; do not grieve in
in this way; this is worse to me than all;
vour young ones, my wife; l will be back
.toon.
The children appeared in the breakfast
room. Mary was ready with In r smile, and
jhe boy was anxious for the notice of his fa
ther. After a short space of time, Mr. F.
returned.
Why so pale, my husband! will your parent
r.ot as -ist you.’
‘Wc must indeed sink my love! He will
not assist me. lie upbraided me; I did not,
Tcould not answer him a word. He spoke
kindly of you and your little ones, blithe has
cast us oil’forever.’
The distressed man had scarcely said this,
when a person rudely came in. The purport
this visit was soon perceived. In the name
of F’s father lie took possession of the prop
erty, and he had the power to make F. a pris
on e r.
‘You shall not take papa away,’ said the lit
tle sen, at the same time kicking at the offs
•vr.
‘Mamma,* whispered Mary, ‘must, my fa
ther go to prison—won’t they !< t us go ion !’
‘Here comes my authority,’said the deputy
sheriff.
The elder Mr. F. doggedly placed himself
an a chair.
‘You shall not take my papa away,’ cried
out the boy to his grandfather.
*A\ hatever may have been my conduct sir,’
said the miserable Edward, ‘this is unkind
[for you. I have not a single (fooling for my
> self, but iny wife—my children —you ln.ve no
right thus to harness them with your pre
sence.’
' ‘Nay,husband, r-sponCcd Mrs. F. ‘think
[ .net o me- Tour lather gannot distress me.
i have not kn •wnym: Edward from your child-
Thood asCc lias dote, hut he shall see how 1
j ’an cling to you—can be proud of you in
| vour poverty. lie lias forgotten your youth
-11 ul days ;he has lost sight ol’his own thought
lie ss years.’ *
’lhcold gentleman directed hislavr agent
ffo leave the room. He then slow ly yet ner-
Butisly answered tints: . .
‘Aiadam —I have not forgotten that I once
l:.ad a wife as amiable and noble minded as
Ltnmu If; and 1 have not Forgotten that your
§MLuid was l;rr favourite child. An old
1 lan hides his sorrows; but let not the world
I,,ink him unfeeling; csjm eiajlv as that world
K uyiit him so to do. "1 h<‘ distress 1 have
S >s moment caused was premeditated on my
ft it. it bus had its full cffu'l. A mortal
[;s • viee bv single steps; and many think j
fte Victim must return by degrees. 1 know j
■ut.. in -ui j edition : aid that with him a
VUl’i 31TfCO$ ADYERTISKR, A'M> A GIUCULT V\i AIi AN MEiU A i iLK l -Vl^j.V,
single leap is sufficient. That leap he has
t..ken. He is again in my memory as t!ie fa
vourite of his.poor mother; the laughing eyed
young pet of a—pshaw; of a.i old fool; lor
why am I crying.’
Little .Mary Wad insensibly drawn hcrsell
'towards the old philosopher, and, without ut
t. ring a word, pressed his hand and put her
handkerchief to his eyes. The boy i.Bo now
: h ft Ins parent, walked up to bis grandfather,
and, leaning ins elbow oa the old man’s knees,
and turning up his round cheek, said, ‘then
you won’t take papa away ?’
‘No!you little impudent ra.-enl; but I’ll
I take you away ; and when your mother comes
! for you, 1 will treat her ;o well, that l il make
i your father follow after.’
Tims came happiness at the heels of ruin.
Ilf husbands of' in r appreciated the exqui
; site and In uvon-hke affection of their wives,
! many happier fin sides would be seen. One in
lore and one in mind, ought to be the motto
of every married pair. And l athers would
j many times check improvidence, if they w< re
I to make use of affection and kindness rather
| than prejudice and strictness.-*.
Frcm the Casket,
THE OI L) FERRYM AN’S TALE.
Upon my return from the south, where bu
siness had called me, my way led me again
through the beautiful iiitle village of “l’leas
smt Hill,” on the Kentucky river. It was
spring—and I made rny journeys so that J
would be able to reach the place about nun
down, when l could observe the taste and
beauty with which, 1 had been told, the “Sha
kers” invariably lay out their gardens. I chose
that time of day, when the brilliant rays of
the sun would be softened down, and give to
the landscape a deeper, but more lovely and
enchanting appearance. 1 was not disappoin
ted in my expectations. There, before me,
extended the beautiful cultivated fields and
pastun s aud gardens and orchards, as far as
the eye could reach, until they were mellow
ed down into the glorious coloring of a set
ting sun horizon. II: re. the white and red
clover, covering whole acres, gave forth a
most delicious fragrance, from which came
the perpetual hum of the busy bee, loth to
leave her work, even with the declining sun ;
and now and then, someone more fortunate
than the rest, w ould buzz past me : Invest bur
dened with the weight of sweets she was
bearing to her storehouse. In the distance,
the large full-fed herds of cattle were lazily
rccliningon the rich carpet beneath them, or
sending forth their call to the tardy ini lk -
I maid. The straw berry lifted up its modest
! head from beneath tire young tender grass,
and the luxuriant honey-sucklc was climbing
over fence and arbor, and uniting its tender
tendrils with those of the delicious grape,
which was now bursting its beautiful leaf,and
writing into loveliness. The mild rose and
sweet briar, aud sweet scented shrub were
not want lug ; nor the voluptuous looking tu
lip, modest, although arrayed in its splendid
dress. Th orchards were swelling with
tin ir buds and-blossoms, evidence of a com
ing burden of fruit—and the fields gave a
glorious prospect o.uii ample coming harvest.
I could have looked and admired for hours,
but my horse stopping, roused me from my
meditations, and I found myself at the door
of the very same house at which I had stop
ped a year before, and found my bridle fa ken
by the self same individual by whom I bid
been ferried across the river at the same time.
He had been transferred from the ferry to
the tavern on account of his age, and a youn
ger person placed in his stead. I was de
light.. and at the chance or prov idencc which had
thrown me again with the man from whom J
hoped to receive some useful information,and
who might amuse me with some tale of by
gone days. I was not disappointed. After
arranging the little business which a travel
ler has always to do upon stopping for the
night. I took my seat in the porch of tnc
house, and my old friend sat him down be
side me. Wc were talking on the occurren
ces of the day, when i was suddenly startled
by tiie sound of a voice, singing some plain
tive hit; I listened,and found the voice tube
that of a young man, chanting with a rich,
clear, impressive tong, the following beauti
ful lines.
“To mark thy strength each hour decay, and yet
thy hopes grow Stronger,
As filled with Heaven-ward trust, they say,earth
may not claim thee longer,
Nay ! dearest, ’tis too much,this heart must break
when thou art gone,
It must not. be, we may not part, I could not live
alone.”
I had hoard these lines before, but never
had l heard anything that so absorbed ah my
feelings* M lien the voice came to the words
•• This heart must break when thou art gone,”
there was so much melancholy, such a deep,
agonizing burst of sobbing came from the
singer, that it thrilled every nerve of my bo
dy ! I felt powerless f —l felt—l cannot tell
how 1 felt. 1 listened for more, hut I could
only gather tiie last line, as with tremulous,
quivering voice he concluded “ 1 could live
alone.” If cvyr there were a human being
that could have liVard those Words as I hoard
th-m; that voiec as 1 heard it.-those sobs of an
guisii, so wo-begone, so dreary, and have not
heei: affected, not have shuddered,it was more
than i could be. I knew not the person, nor
the cause of grief, but sorrow I knew there
must be, deep, lie Tt-rending sorrow ; and as
tin good old f ernman beside me tried to con- j
ceil] a tear, that, in spite of him, trickled
down his face, I caught the infection; by
gone years flitted past me in painful roineni-'
brance. “Fond memory brought the light of!
other days around me,” cud 1 wept. After i
we both had become more composed, I iuqui- j
red of friend Styles (for so was n:v compan-j
ion called) if he knew tiie individual so of-!
feetcil ? “Yea,” answered ho, “ his name isj
George Iluutrr, we designate hint among us i
hv either his paternal or Christian name,friend j
George being the most commoii.” Ho serins!
to he laboring under some mental anguish ;■
has he met with misfortune ? “Yea, he has
such as few men moot w ith, and still fewer
feci as exquisitely as he dors.” Are you ac
quainted with his history ! I inquired—“ Yea j
i believe 1 am, or at least with so much of it
as w ill gratify your ouriosily to hear. George j
Hunter is, I belieie, a native lVmisylvanian;
about two yerrs ago he passed through this'
place, journeying to the South, where busi
ness for his father httff taken hit;:. Whil
tarrying in some little villages in Tennessee,
In; 1> came attached to a hcautifij little gi:k
then about fifteen years of age,*vhotn lie had j
accidentally seen at the house of a friend.— i
Ho called frequently upon her afterwards at
in r futhi r’s, and suffice it to say, they became
engaged. I knew In r father intimately, and j
| a more worthy man never lived; and his;
j daughter seemed to have possessed ail his
amiable qualities. \\ e bad become ncquaiu
j ted in our yoiiugi r days, and wc still keep
;up an occasional correspondence. \ oil will
! not expect an old man who has throw n by
I the gaieties of the w orld, and-w ho, from his
| long intimacy with his society, may he ex
pected to have had his heart seared to all the
allurements and luxury of social intercourse
;to dwell upon tiie personal charms of Miss
; Marv .Mayland : she was beautiful, cxqms
; indy beautiful, and what is rare, yea, a won
! d< r, she was a good girl, unaffected with any
I species of vanity ; so modest, so artless, so
amiable, so kind and affectionate, that it
made my eld frozen up heart glad to see her
smile, and hear her clear, silvery voice. Hut
,1 have left iny story. Well, George left Ik r,
to visit his friends in Pennsylvania, intend
ing to return for her in the course of the com
ing spring. He did so, and they were inar
| rii and with consent of all their friends. Alrout
: three weeks ago,George Hunter and his young
bride stopp: and here on thtir journey to his pa
rents. I knew him when he rode up, and was
introduced to his lady. You know the rules
jof our society forbid man and wife to be in
I that capacity while they remain with us. 1
was sorry they had to be separated, for thefc
j bcatnr. and so much affection from her soft lovely
i ye, increased by being overshadowed b) its
long dark silken lash ; and so much tender
ness from his, tlint I wished the young peo
ple happy, am! sorry was 1 to be the instru
ment of causing the first shade of unhappi.
ness either had seen. They continued with
us all the r.ext day, examining our garden
and our houses, and seemingly admiring cvc
erv thing which usually attracts strangers. —
On that night, however, through fatigue pro
bably, the lady was attacked with billions fe
ver. llovv he watched by her bed side, an
ticipated every want, noted each change ol
feature, it i* not necessary to say. Else con
tinued to decline hourly, although the best
medical assistance was procured-, but all to no
purpose. On the eveffing of the eighth day,
(lie Physician declared she was dying ! I was
horrified! for 1 had occasionally gone into
the room to carry some little r.eccsnries for
her comfort. 1 iiad not expected it, or rather
lioping the best, l anticipated the host. 1 can
never forget the look of anguish, of heart bro
ken despair, which George Hunter exhibited
when informed of the physician’sjudgcment!
he wept like a child ! But for his wife, 1
never had witnessed such composure, such
resignation to the divine will, in any human
being before ; and now i saw the pale
emaciated luce Of that beautiful girl ; when 1
saw the rich black eye sunken almost in
death, and the skeleton fingers worn down by
sickness, nor heard one murmur from her lips
although suffering the severest pain, I was
ashamed of myself for having so often mur
! mured at the ways of Providence. A minis
-1 ter from a neighboring town had called in to
! see her occasionally, and now, his presence
j was most anxiously looked for ; he arrived at
length, and seating himself on a chair near
the bed-side, the pious man spoke to her a
bout the concerns of her immortal part : her
auswt rs were go iovv that 1 could only now
and then catch a syllable. Several of the
sisters of our society were present, for they
[ had all become deeply interested in her situ-
I ation. The divine tool, from his pocket a
I small hymn book, and opening it, gave out
j with a clear, impressive though affected
j \ oice, these lines :
“My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
TiU the last trumpet’s joyful sound.
Then burst the chains with sweet Surprise,
And m my Savior’s image rise - ”
If you have never heard our females sing,
you can have no idea of the rich, full, clear
notes that some of them utter ; and the pres
ent mournful occasion had altered the voice
of each to a most melancholy, delicious vo
luptuousness. When they had sung the first
two lines, Mary whispered her husband to
kneel by tier; lie did so, and taking her hands
| in his, he unburthened his soul to his Maker.
Between sobs and groans 1 could distinguish ;
part of Ills prayer.
“ Omnipotent, but still merciful Father,
thou scest before thee a sinner lugging thy
mercy for a dearly beloved wife. Physician
of the soul, heal her? But, if in thy inscruta
ble Providence thou takest her awav, Saviour
of mankind fit her for lit r passage, and let me
bow in humble submission to thy will.”
All were affected to tears. The hymn died
awav, the singers not being able to finish it.
The minister laid down his book, and folding
his arms over it, laid down his head, and wept
audibly! When he bad finished his prayer,
his wife threw her emaciated skeleton arms
around his neck, and drew him convulsively
to her,and I heard her sav, “George, thou
art all this poor heart clings to—dearest hus
band, when 1 am gone, go back and tell iny
mother that Ace‘little Mary’is dead ; toll iny
lather that his little Mary has gone to h r Fa
ther in Heaven ! One kiss dear George,
farewell!” She drew him still more con
vulsively to her, and pr< ssing her lips to his
'ter innocent soul was with her Saviour.
' “ I wish I was not a child,” said the good
old Ferryman, after a long pause, in which he
held his hands to his furrowed, weather bea
ten face, and vainly tried to smother his sobs.:
“1 never can think of the last hour of that'
lovely innocent being, hut my ‘old eyes tr ii,
tales on my womanish heart.’ 'Well, the!
morrow oittne, when she was to be interred.
The news of her death had collected together
the tin mhers of our own little community,and j
a great many of our neighbors. She was eon-!
roved to her last dreary home—George i 1 mi- i
ter following without any outward badge of:
mourning, save the black handkerchief which
he held to his eyes. The coffin was lowered !
into the grave, and the minister went through,
the simple, artless burial service. A prayer!
was said,and the last sad duty of covering!
the dead was but commenced—the first clod)
hid but njouri.fully tumbled on tile coffin,
when George Hunter fainted and (..•!! j
back in*o the arms ofilic hystand< r . ii
recovered, but he was a— maniac !
We raised a plain marble stone over her
remains, with the beautiful inscription, i
Slic’a “(.no, -i
“ Where never care or p ia.
£hull reach her innocent heart again.”
Ar
THE CHAMBER OF DEATH
i . I have heard,
The spirits cf the dead may w all: again :
If such tiling be, ——
Appeared to me last night non at are,
! Sometimes her head on one side, 3ome on ether,
1 never saw a vessel, cf iike sorrow
i So filled and so becoming: in pure white robes,
i Like very sanctity she did approach.
J Vinter's Tate.
In the pc r formal if r of our duty towards our
fellow men, wc arc frequently called upon to
act in capacity s, from which we won!.! rat Ik r
1 withdraw, in cons qucnec of those feelings,
j natural to every one, which make distinctions
between w hat arc L rmed the agreeable am.
the disagreeable. These distinctions are a-*
frequeniy placed where they should not be,
; and without a reference to certain inward
sensations, which give a east of pleasure even
to disagreeable duties, from the more cou
i sciolism ss of the performance of duty. It ss
a pleasing and a healthful glow, which spread
itsi.-lf over our every thought and actum, ami
as the sensation passes off’, leaves the mind
in that state of delightful serenity, which is
characterized by a disposition of good w ill,
and charitable feelings toward the whole hu
man race.—Of that description of duty is that
which requires) the performance of the last
offices of friendship, in watching-over the. re
mains of a follow mortal. It is one of thosi
i which consists in what the world calls disa
j greeabie; and yet one which a sense of duty
i reconciles to our mind as agreeable,
j 1 was once, and once only called upon t<
j act in this capacity. It was on occasion of
; the death of one of iny nearest friends, w hom
• l shall distinguish by the name of Makion ;
; and while 1 relate his brief, but melancholy
: memoir, let none cast upon it the bitter smile
! of contempt, because it associates with it
i that brightest and holies of all human pas
j sions—l.ovc ! It is a common remark That
tltis passion in our day, “ carries with it nq
; broken heart.” But the story of iny fiend
I though of recent date bears contradiction on
its front to such opinions.
Marion was a man ! I will not pretend to
a greater Eulogy. I will not call him in the
usual style of such relations—“ the noblest cl
! his sex ;” but only say—he was a man !
j He had early become enamoured with a
; lady worthy of him in every respect- lie lov
ed and was beloved in return; hnd I appeal
| to any heart, whether the summit of happiness
j can be attained if it do not exist under such
i circumstances.
I A long acquaintance had served to endear!
! him to the object of his affection, w hile thc-j
I loss of her natural protectors only increased I
; his passions, since it rendered him still more j
; conscious of the charge, which circumstances,'
1 as well as his own will, had placed upon him.
i The time had almost arrived which was to
: unite them, when death, that subtle and heart
less tyrant, which preys upon beauty and
j youth with as much zest as upon age aud tig-!
: lines?, snatched her from him.
I will not enter further into detail than tui
i remark that such was the effect wrought upon
j liis mind by this event, that a few months
! seemed to reduce him to such a state of bodi
ly exhaustion that death alone could relieve
! him of his suffering. It was on this occa
sions I was called on to act in the capacity
! above alluded to. Others had been appoint
) ed to join with me in the duty, hut by some
1 accident I was left alone to a :t. As if in ac-
I corilancc with the melancholy occasion, a
! single lamp alone glimmered in the chamber
j and east a doleful light on the surrounding
j objects. I am not naturally a coward. Supcr
j stition has no hold on my mind. Supernatu
\ ral events, or such as arc usually so termed,
I bear no sway over rue in thought or action.—
j Yet from some cause, accountable only by the
: fact cf having lost my rest for some nights
previous, a continued tremor and anxiety per-
I vaded me. The corpse as it laid, with face
! uncovered, and prepared for burial, continu
l ally attracted my eyes. At last, wearied with
! my own thoughts, 1 sat down besides the bier,!
1 resolved to gaze on that face 1 had known in j
] happier hours, amt endeavor thus to satisfy j
the apparent longing of my sight.
The hours wc had passed in each other’s I
j society, the happy moments of his love, his !
: loudness for the object of that love, all flitted !
Iby me, borne on memory’s silken wings.— j
| “ Marion,” thought I, “thy race lias been;
[ short, but virtuous.. Thou wilt not be re-j
! mcnibercd, for thy deeds of chivalry; hut j
thy honorable career and thy luckless fate, j
w ill hold a place in the memory of thy friends j
which time will only serve to render morel
clear to u.s.” Thus ran the current of mv
mind, and I still gazed on the pallid features j
of death when a female figure entering the;
room, caused some interruption; sho was)
dressed in a pure w bite habiliment, anti seem- j
cd prepared for a bridal ceremony ruthrr
than for a visit to tbe “Chamber of death.”—i
A ghastly rigidity marked her features, over
which a cast of sadness was remarkable.
“ rihe approached the bier, and bending ever
! it, she gently laid hold of the arm of the corpse,
j and with a pallid smile, whispered, “ Come,
! Marion, why sleep ye ? aln ady the beams ol I
j our bridal morn are abroad ; Come ! the guests j
! arc all met,” and she gently drew back to- 1
: wards (lie door, and disappeared,still sounding i
i the name of “ Marion, Marion, come ! come i
:io our bridal.” I rushed forward to pursue j
! the object of this visitation, and only then j
perceived, that I had slept until the first ravs i
j of morning light began slightly to iiluminatt *!
I the chamber.
The v i: ion is still impressed upon my mind
j with all the vividness of a recent trairsiaetinq, i
i and I never hear < l a bridal ilisappointmoqt})
without a riTtinenee to my mind of the fide :
of my friend Marion. ROLAND.
-*CV>-
Litl-ru. Construction. —The President G
tho Missouri Senate would Rot allow the door of i
tho House to be closed in the coldest weather?
last vv inter, bieanse the ConsiituticaToqitirts that'
each House shall L: wg? rfra-r. I
• “Our fir-:, beat country, ever is nt Ik me!” !
Tin r‘ is a magic in the word home— a s, Ci.,
11! at rivets the heart and buries every rccoLcc-1
tio:i in that one hallowed thought. Fhcre are !
] tics that connect i:s to it, never to ho broxen j
! tin re are reineuihr.mees clinging around itt.
love to dwell upon. The humbic shed where ■
; first the infant drew Ids lire: th of lilY, tsmbn ;
i precious to the heart, than is the splendor of
{ oalaccs to the exile v. ho tastes not the joys oi
i home, lovely home! wamHr whore we tnay, a
I lings ring desire is still d*fth rs. Ihc nt.r.ic
j lions of home ar i no v. lure else, ihe lire sale
! at which wy have so often told our winter tales
• —th.- familiar objects that hung about us; (In
• tongue}! that were wont to warble tlu ir swci
I accents and bear a wt 'iconic with the first n ish
of the Sk art —arc when away seen not in its
j cheerfulnce-; look: and but in vain; hoard in no
i whisper—felt bv no feeling! Home has a thou
sand charms with it. Every spot is familiar,
and brings back to memory some pleasurable
j events: Davs long gone by—scenes never to
I return, are once more Ik fore the mind and
! with their fond delusions entertain in all reali
ties exstacy. The old man puts down his crutch
; when he remembers the day s of ins boyhood,
the hale.on time of play, rnd tells over his
youthful frolics with all the assisting ob jects of
inemorv about him, and thinks that he is vigor
ous enough to react them. Tne young lightly
sport, with no ear: to mar their pleasure. The
j sunshine of contentment ! rightly sank s upon
them, and they reap a golden harvest of joy!
it is at 1 kin in we can gaze upon the reciprocal
j feeling—it is there wc delight in the tender cx
; changes of affectionate sympathy—it is there
i wc look upon the lnotlu r watching her infafit
uid nourishing it with liquid pccrl-guardiug
: slumbers in anxious hope, and rearing it to
• proud manhood, it is there that we can feci
j tiie misfortunes of others, because linked to
! our own hearts —it is there that wc are permit
- ted to condemn folly, to pity weakness, to re
ward and emulate virtue. 1; is there the heart
■ lives and never departs from! But let us go from
) home and what sparks of real joy do wo foci?
| Every object mound us is.strange—wc soon
j become sickened with them, and the heart
I turns again to home. There have wc those that 1
love us: those whose hind assiduities wc have j
- often experii need .; ti.osp v\ ho pcrhnj s have 1
watched us on a sick bed with tend;, rest care—
tlio?-' to whom we are allied by the best and
i first tics of nature, those who foci our woes
| and are ever ready to r licve our wants! ( an
j we (hen turn away from such charms? Can wc ,
i forget that they are inseparable with the heart >
and ought we willingly to desert them in pur
j suit only of nominal happiness?
Southern Chronicle.
DESCRIPTION OF LAWYERS.
I'v Dlb'.X Sw Il'T.
“ There is a society of men among us, bred
| up from the ir youth in ilie art of proving*by
1 words multiplied for the purpose, that white;
i is bl ack, and black is white, according as j
| they are paid. To this society all the rest, of j
the people arc slaves. For example, if iny ;
I neighbor has a mind to my cow, lie lias a law- j
yer to prove that he ought to have my cow |
from me. I must then hire another to de
fend my right, it being against al! rules of law,!
that any man should be allowed to speak for !
j himself. Now in this case, I, who am the j
■ right owner, lie under two great disadvanta-1
j go. : first, my lawyer, being practised almost
from his cradle in defending falsehood, is |
quite out of his element when he would bean
advocate for justice, which is an unnatural of- j
fine he always attempts with great awkward- j
ness, if not with iH will. The second dis- !
advantage is, that my lawyer must proceed •
with great caution, or else he will be repri
manded by the judges, and abhorred by his!
brethren, as one that would lessen the prac-:
tice of the law. And therefore I have but !
two methods to preserve my cow. The first;
is to gain over iny adversary’s lawyer with a 1
double fee, who will then betray his client bv ;
insinuating, that he has justice on his sido.-E
The second way is, for my lawyer to make the
cause appear as unjust as he can,and allowing
the cow to belong to my adversary : and this
if it bo skillfully done, certainly bespeaks
the favor of the bench. Now your honor is
to know, that these judges are persons ap
pointed to decide all controversies of proper
! ty as well as for the trial of criminals, and
! picked out from the most dexterous lawyers,
; who are grown old and lazy, and having been
! biassed all their lives against truth and equi
. ty, lie under such a fatal necessity of favoring j
1 fraud, perjury, and oppression, that 1 have :
known seme of them refuse a large bribe front 1
I the side v. lu re justice lay, rather than injure
i the fact !ty, by doing any thing unbecoming, \
their nature or their office,
i “It is a maxim among these lawyers, that!
| whatever has been clone before, may legally i
| be . one again; and therefore they take spe- !
cial care to record all the decisions formerly* j
made against common justice,.and the genet'- j
al reason of mankind. Those, under the 1
name of precedent,?, .they produce as authori-!
ties to justify the most iniquitous opinions i
; ar, d the judges never fail of directing accord
ingly.
“Inpleading, they studiously avoid tutcr
ing into t!ic merits of the cause; but are
loud, violent, an,l tedious in dwelling noon
cl!circumstances which are not t, ( tp e pur
pose. For instance, in the cause a!r, ,uh
mentioned they never desire to know what
claim or title my adversary ] ias j 0 lnv cow '.
!mt whether the said cow were red or lilucle •
her horns long or short ; whether the field J
graze her in be round or square; whether she
was milked at home or abroaj ; v. hat disease
she 13 subject to, ami the like; after which
fit';- consult precedents, adjourn the cause
(rom time'to time, n:id in ten, twenty, or thir
ty Veaj^ 4 cAnm to an i.Mic.
“.It i li-i,"\.t,m to Ik; observed, that this:
society has a peculiar cant and u.-on of i
Uncrown. that m otln r mortal can unilt r-'
stand,-?md wherein nil their Jaws a-,. v rit I
tern, which thev take special care tomnltinly,
u.wieh} t:i. \ have v.liody et.r founded ‘ the
m >' ' ' Clirv <*'•’* -■'■'id falschcotl, of rights '
i' "iil take thirty vm.rs)
t" decide, w hellu r the tic id loft me bv'm'y an-1
ecshns to r mx gem rations belongs to me, or!
to a stranger three hundred miles off.
“ In die trial of p, rsons accused for crimes |
against the f into, the method is much more!
short and commendable ;t!ie j mitre fi r q
to round the dispo .... ftlt p<nVf r , cf ;
ter which he can easily hung t r < !V c : I
nr.!, strictly | reserving all du.o form A fl
“ L't all pomts out ol their own ,- a A ■
are usually Lw most ignorant and snA fl
( rat.on among os, the n.ot ,1
common conversation, avow ed “ c
knowledge ami fcorning, arid outdh
ml to prevent the g< nor,a! reason , ; f •fl
in ov< ry othc r subject of discourse. A i ■ fl
of : Ik ir own profi ssiou.” 8
.'nui the tlurries ten
CELEBRATION K
cr run 8
; r if V-fJin A thrrsari/ of .' I
denre in Vtuirleslon. ' "
ihe dawn was ushered in bv the f.;„ K
: cannon, and the ringing of bells'; :;n i .‘'‘' !l: fl
j out .iic day, at bno* intervals, various .' 8
j motif tuiKS were chimed on the i rih'/fl
1 Micliu; l's Chureli. B
d’he i’uiirtii Briga’le, under Gen. Y.\x^,
' itouni', a: >, lubleil A o’clock in tiie. ■
| w;.s rev it well by the Govt rnor, at G
marched to the liatti r on East Ivav. aii'i|E’B
nr: and a salute, :iw\jeu ,!e joic~‘he[' A" 1
cd thence to South Bay, and up' u., I
sirct t to the Brigade ground, where them ■
wore dismissed. 8
Fur some days prey ions, the weather ■
been wet and disagreeable, and on tin I*),! I*
rain, foil at int< r.vaJs tlm.ughoia the a n - '**'B
1 he preparations for the cci bration'ei f I
day, made by the two great parties, i irc(| .‘,‘|
out at'an early hour,- nearly the whole ir'fl
propitiation oi the city, and before teno’cC fl
masses of citizens, friendly to, auddetcir"B
led to preserve-tim Union, wire moving ‘Z I
i wards tiie .Market?, in Aiaikct.ireet° th" I
' l‘ lac< -’ distinguished lor the assembling 0 f r' I
! L nion i’arty. ° "l
.litre the vast multitude gathered toc-the- I
with pure hearto and unshaken finum-" I
was great beyond the calculation of the j.„V 1
'sanguine. I
• At an early period it was found necevr-1
to appoint a(klitu*mil .Marshals,and toll:
iIAVK.NKI., VliXMl- i’cKdlJ.R and Tueodow.
' '.vii.l.v!?i>, Esqrs. were added Euwaicd y,. I
Cii.vov and Thomas Coruett, jr. Esqrs. I
about 11 o’clock, a procession was organize I
which in point of numbers and respecibtlm I
of individual aharactcr, lias never, pe'rhafo
been eipialled by any civic procession eve' I
formed in Charleston. * I
1 i.’K w.i! admit us to give mere tip J
a brief sketch of what occured through tl> I
day ; but as tin. Commit t e of Arrangements l
will, at tiie earliest possible period, furnish !
a lull and particular account of the proceed.
ings the subject will again be
adverted to.
Y.e shall, therefore, only state at present,
that the procession was formed in the order a
previously published. The twenty-four
stewards of the day in front, each Steward
bearing a blue silk banner, on which was in.
scribed the name of a State, and an appropri.
ate motto. Next followed the national banner
cf the lnion, botne by an officer, supported
on the right and left by Col Jacob Sass and
Solojiox Leg.vkjs, Esqrs. two revolutionary
soldiers, both of whom were at the siege cr'
Savannah. About sixty youths, having ips
ly organized themselves, rcqmsfed to beat!,
mitted into the procession, and although such
a nievement was not asked or expected bv tin
Committee of Arangi. meats, they were re
ceived and formed next to the national flag,
in (he rear of the youths, about 60 or TOshiu
masters ami other seamen were formed in
couples, and banners on which were the
names of our most conspicuous Naval Cem
manders and Naval Battles, were borne bv re
sident ship masters. Next to these were the
citizens of the Union and State Rights l’urty,
the younger in front and elder in the rear,
comprising a large majority of the phys
ical power in the industrious classes, awl
of die intelligence and solid independence of
all classes. This part of the procession wa
ve ry numerous, and evinced the deep feeling
which pervades the minds of our substantial
citizens on the important topics which agitate
our State; and evidenced a “determination
on the part of the people to frown down every
attempt to dissolve this Union, from whatever
quarter ii may proceed, or by whatever patri
otic name it may be decorated.” A portion
of the citizens carried banners, on which was
inscribed the names of battles fought during
the Revolution, and in the late Whir—Fort
Moultrie and Bunker Hill were borne by the
first couple, and following these were a Nor
thern and Southern, carried conjointly
throughout the line.
Following th citizen**, were the fYncm -
fee of Arogerr jrds, thirteen in number, con
forming to l ! at of t lie otig'nal bfates. Nr:/
were the fi /cigu Consuls residents in Charh s
ton, deer rated with the badges cf their ic-,
spectiv<i officers.
Af* or these came distinguished citizen; --,
gtie its invited •from various parts of the State,
tc join with h? in the celebration of qwr Nr
cion’s Independence— ‘lndependence which
cannot exist Without Uuie;:, and v-i ti, it, u-.
eternal.
’i’lien came the Uonßcripl FathnVof (Ir
Revolution, a goodly number of that patriot
band, vvlio by their presence an 1 ;fi* spirit
which aiiimrrttrt'fliern, reminded us A die
blood and treasure which which cur fregdet'i
cost, and warned us of our duty to transmit it
unimpaired fo our prostM ritv.
j J ollovvingtho h’uldiers of the i.,
were the < 'lergy„ and tlmn the Vjct-Pr, -
dents, tweniy.four in nutnht r, each lvjm■: th
ing a State of our Federal Fnion..
In tin- rear of the main body of flic ff
Presidents, was (hurral D-.niii, lit M-it
IfveSKit, appointed to r< ad tho Farewell Ad
dress of Washington, supported |> . Dr, Wx.
1 Head, l.r- t \ icc-President of the day, and
N ice-Prer.ident ot the C.neinnati Society oi
J .South Carol inti.
Ami in their rear, wrs the I Ton. J vxits K
Frikole, Infendtint of the City, Fn s.dent o'
the l)av, ami the lion. WA;. !.'■;; v>. i< vd Va.or*
'i ho proto -sign was closed hv the Secret.i--
ry of the Connnittec of Arrangements, heat
ing the bannerol the party, with appropriate
devices.
The two hands of mtrsic were placed at
proper distsnet e.
Aho proct ssion form'd a sublime and ii.v*
p*f.ingspectacle, it was a spontaneous move
ntoiit. by tlie people, uninfluenced by grand)’
1 1 1 V 1. all'! U U",V. V fj- •)' mr.
II 4 •