Newspaper Page Text
at an interview which he subsequently
had with the Little Black Porter in
Furnival’s Inn. W hen he communica
ted the result of his investigations
on the subject to the Doctor, that
worthy personage protested that he
should pass the residue of his life in
mere amazement.
George Wharton quitted Doctor
Plvmpton’s house, without seeing Isa
bel a< r ain, on the eventful morning
when °he pen was placed in her hand
to execute the marriage settlement;
and. with the full approbation of his
father’s attorney, he sailed, by the first
ship, to his native land. Isabel pre
vailed upon the Doctor to write to
Godfrey Fairfax, inviting him to fulfil
his promise of paying them a visit. —
She also wrote to Godfrey herself, by
the same packet: but the fickle young
man had changed his mind before the
letters reached him ; and six years al
ter the departure of George VV harton
from England, Adam Burdock was em
ployed to draw a marriage settlement
between the still blooming coquette,
Isabel Plympton, and her early ad
mirer, Charles Perry, who for the pre
ceding fifteen months had been a wi
©
dower.
€l)t Intrrl! slltnr.
THY WILL BE DONE.
Thy will be done. Although we now
Receive the chastening oi tHy rod,
Under its weight we calmly bow ;
Teach us to breaih our olemn vow,
And pray—“ Thy will be done, O God !”
Thy will be done. Though grief and care
Attend our journey—-just begun,
Teach us each adverse gale to bear,
And meet each ir.al with this prayer,
“ Father above —thy will he done.”
Thy will be done. O teach us all,
The thorny paths of vice to shun,
Teach us to heed our maker's call,
And pmstrate at thy leet .o lull,
Aud everpiay—•‘Thy will be done.”
Thy will be done. Whate’er betide
Oar transient course be ea h lite sun,
May we with childl.ire faith confide
la ‘hy protection, true and tried,
Aud humbly pray—“Tliy w.ll fit done.”
Lesson for Sunday, November 17.
THE UNSPEAKABLE GIFT.
‘ 1 Thanks be unto Cod for his unspeakable gilt.”—2Cor.
ix. 15.
God is essentially and immutably
good. All the virtues and excellencies
that adorn us as creatures, as well as
all the gifts and graces that ennoble us
as Christians, are the streams issuing
from him as the divine Fountain, or the
beams descending from him as the
Father of lights. But Christ is his un
speakable gift, for which our unfeigned
gratitude is demanded. Observe
The gift bestowed. It is styled un
speakable. Jesus is so,
In the glory he possesses. There is
in him, as God and man, a combina
tion of excellencies, a glory of wisdom,
power, love, majesty and grace ; a glory
that outsh lies the brightness of the
sun.
In the grace he manifests. Who can
fathom the depths of his love, or de
scribe the riches of his g-ace? We
behold it in its heights, and lengths,
and breadths, and depths; and in the
vast contemplation are lost in wonder
and astonisement.
In the sufferings he endured. Were
not the pangs of his soul unutterable,
when the sword of Divine justice pierced
him, and the arrows of the Almighty
fastened on him ?
In the blessings he bestows. The sa
tisfaction cannot be fully expressed;
the peace passeth understanding; the
hope is within the veil, the joy is un
speakable, and the glory that awaits us
is yet to be revealed.
The gratitude paid. God is the
Giver. It is according to the purposes
of his grace, the promises of his word,
and the fullness of time. How is this
gift to be acknowledged?
By an ardent attachment to him. —
There is every thing in Christ to attract
your love, and secure vour regard.
“ How welcome,” says a living writer,
“is Jesus to a soul taught of Gdfl ; as
rural flowers to the sense, when the
softening sun renders the air genial,
when the fields breathe balmy fresh
ness in the morning beam ; when dew
drops tremble on every leaf; and the
slow zephyr toils along the landscape,
as if laden with sweets!”
By a bold confession oj him. If this
gift is received in the heart, it will be
acknowledged openly and fearlessly.
By active zeal for him. The best
way to show our gratitude for the Fa
ther’s gift, is to seek to spread abroad
the Saviour’s fame. If God has given
us his Son, let us give him our hearts.
ILLUSTRATIONS FOR CHILDREN.
I once saw a preacher trying to teach
the children that the soul would live
after they were all dead. They listen
ed, but evidently did not understand it.
lie was too abstract. Snatching his
watch from his pocket, he said :
“James, what is this 1 hold in my
hand ?”
“ A watch sir.”
“A little clock,” says another.
“ Do vou all see it?”
“ Yes, sir.”
“ How do you know it is a watch ?”
“ It ticks, sir.”
“Very well —can any of you hear it
tick r
“All listen now.”
After a pause—
“ Yes, sir, we hear it.”
lie then took off’ the case, and held
the case in one hand and the watch in
the other.
“ Now, children, which is the watch ?
You see there are two which look like
watches.”
“The little one in your right hand.”
“Very well again. Now 1 will lay
the case aside —put it away down there
in my hat. Now let us see if you can
hear the watch ticking!”
“Yes sir, we hear it,” exclaimed se
veral voices.
“ Well, the watch can tick, and go,
and keep time, you see, when the case
is taken off and put in my hat. The
watch goes just as well. So it is with
you, children. Your body is nothing
but the case, the soul is inside. The
case—the body—may be taken olf and
buried up in the ground, and the soul
will live and think, just, as well as this
watch, will go, as you see, when the
case is off'.”
“Let me Labour Now.”—When
that zealous and truly apostolic labour
er, Mr. Grimshawe,who usually preach
ed from twenty to thirty times a week,
was entreated at any tim-j to spare him
self, his constant reply was, “Let me
labour now for the hour is at hand
when I shall rest.”
C'jjr (Bssntjist.
HOW TO MAKE HOME UNHEALTHY.
BY HARRIET MARTINEAU.
Emperor Yao (very many years b.
c.) established a certain custom, which
was followed, we are told, by his suc
cessors on the throne of China. The
custom was this. Outside the hall
door of his palace, he suspended a ta
blet and a gong ; and if one among his
subjects felt himself able to suggest a
good idea to bis ruler, or wished to ad
monish him of any error in his ways,
the critic paid a visit to the palace,
wrote what he had to say upon the ta
blet, battered at the gong, and ran
away. The Emperor came out; and
then, unless it happened that some
scapegrace of a schoolboy had annoyed
him by superadding a tly-away knock
to a contemptuous hieroglyphic, he
he gravely profited by any hint the ta
blets might convey. Not unlike hon
est, patriarchal Yao is our British Pub
lic. It is summed out to read inscrip
tions at its door, left there by all who
have advice to give or faults to depre
cate. The successors of Yao, finding
upon their score so many conflicting
tales, soon substituted for the gong five
instruments of music. It was required,
then,that the moiiitorshould distinguish,
by the instrument upon which lie per
formed his summons, what particular
department of imperial duties it might
be to which lie desired to call attention.
Now’ not five but fifty voices summon
our royal public. One mail courts at
tention with a dulcet strain, one brays,
one harps upon a string, another drums.
And among those who have of late
been busiest in pointing errors out, and
drumming at the public’s door to have
them rectified, are they who profess
concern about the Public Health.
For the writer who now proposes to
address to you, O excellent Public,
through these pages, a Series of Practi
cal Hints as to How to Make Home
Unhealthy, we would not have you
think that he means to be in any re
spect so troublesome as those Sanitary
Instructors. The lion on your knocker
gives him confidence; he will leave no
disconcerting messages; he will seek
to come into your purl out as a friend.
A friend he is; for, with a polite sin
cerity, he will maintain in all his argu
ments that what you do is what ought
always to be done, lie knows well
that you are not foolish, and perceives,
therefore, what end you have in view.
He sees that you are impressrd deeply
with a conviction of the vanity of life;
that you desire, accordingly, to prove
your wisdom by exhibiting contempt
for that which philosopher after philoso
pher forbids a thoughtful man to cher
ish. You would be proud to have Un
healthy Homes. Lusty carcases, they
are for coarse folk and for the heathen;
civilization forbids us to promote ani
mal development. How can a man
look spiritual, it he be not sickly? I low
can a woman —Is not Paris the mode?
Go, weigh an elegant Parisienne against
a peasant girl from Normandy. It is
here proposed, therefore, to now hon
our your discretion by demonstrating
publicly how right you are. Some of
the many methods by which one may
succeed in making Home Unhealthy,
will be here detailed to you, in order
that, as we go on, you may congratu
late yourself on feeling how extremely
clever you already are in your arrange
ments. Here is a plain purpose. If
any citizen, listening to such lessons,
think himself wise, and yet is one who,
like good M. Jourdain in the comedy,
n'applaudit qua contresens —to such a
citizen it is enough to say, May much
good come of his perversity !
I.
HINTS TO HANG UP IN THE NURSERY.
In laving a foundation of ill health, it
is a great point to le able to begin at
the beginning. You have the future
man at excellent advantage when he is
between your fingers as a baby. One
of Hoffman’s heroines, a clever house
wife, discarded and abhorred her lover
from the moment of his cutting a yeast
dumpling. There are some little enor
mities of that kind which really can
not be forgiven, and one such is, to miss
the opportunity of physieing a baby.
Now 1 will tell you how to treat the
future pale-face at his first entrance into
life.
A little while before the birth of any
child, have a little something ready in
a spoon; and, after birth, be ready at
the first opportunity to thrust this down
his throat. Let his first gift from his
fellow-creatures be a dose of physic—
honey and calomel, or something of
that kind ; but you had better ask the
nurse for a prescription. Have ready
also, before birth, an abundant stock of
pins; for it is a great point, in putting
the first dress upon the little naked
body, to contrive that it shall contain
as many pins as possible. The prick
of a sly pin is excellent for making
children cry; and since it may lead
nurses, mothers, and now and then even
doctors, to administer physic for the
cure of imaginary gripings in the bow
els, it may be twice blessed. Sanitary
enthusiasts anj apt to say that strings,
not pins, are the right fastening for in
fants’clothes. Be not misled. Is not
the pincushion an ancient institution ?
What is to say, “ Welcome little stran
ger,” it’ pins cease to do so ? Resist
this innovation. It is the small end of
the wedge. The next thing that a
child would do, if let alone, would be
to sleep. 1 would not suffer that. * The
poor thing must want feeding ; there
fore waken it and make it eat a sop, for
that will be a pleasant joke at the ex
pense of nature. It will be like waken
ing a gentleman after midnight to put
into his mouth some pickled herring;
only the baby cannot thank you for
your kindness as the gentleman might
do.
This is a golden rule concerning ba
bies: to procure s.ckly growth, let the
child always suckle. Attempt no regu
larity in nursing. It is true that if an
infant be fed at the breast every four
hours, it will fall into the habit of de
siring food only so often, and will sleep
very tranquilly during the interval. —
This may save trouble, but it is a de
vice for rearin: healthy children: we
discard it. Our infants shall be nursed
in no new-fangled way. As for the
child’s crying, quiet costs eighteen
pence a bottle; so that argument is
very soon disposed of.
Never be without a flask of Golfrey’s
Cordial, or Daffy, in the nursery ; but
the fact is, that you ought to keep a
medicine chest. A good deal of curi
ous information may be obtained by
SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE.
watching the effects of various medi
cines upon your children.
Never be guided bv the child’s teeth
in weaning it. Wean it before the
first teeth are cut, or after they have
learned to bite. Wean all at once,
tvith bitter aloes or some similar de
vices ; and change the diet suddenly.
It is a foolish thing to ask a medical
attendant how to regulate the food of
children ; he is sure to be overrun with
bookish prejudices; but nurses are
practical women, who understand tho
roughly matters of this kind.
Do not use a cot for infants, or pre
sume beyond the time-honoured insti
tution of the cradle. Active rocking
sends a child to sleep by causing gid
diness. Giddiness is a disturbance of
the blood’s usual way of circulation ;
obviously, therefore, it is a thing to
aim at in our nurseiies. For elder
children, swinging is an excellent
amusement, if they become giddy on
the swing.
In your nursery, a maid and two or
three children may conveniently be
quartered for the night, by all means
carefully secured from draughts. —
Never omit to use at night,a chimney
board. The nursery window ought
not to he much opened ; and the door
should he kept always shut, in order
that the clamor of the children may not
annoy others in your house.
When the children walk out for an
airing, of course they are to he little
ladies and gentlemen. They are nor
to scamper to and fro; a little gentle
amble with a hoop ought to he their
severest exercise. In sending them to
walk abroad, it is a good thing to let
their legs lie bare. The gentleman
papa, probably, would find hare legs
rather cold walking in the streets of
London; but the gentleman son, of
course, has quite another constitution.
Besides, how can a hoy, not predis
posed that way, hope to grow up con
sumptive, if some pains are not taken
with him in his childhood?
It is said that of old time children in
the Balearic Islands were not allowed
to eat their dinner, until, hy adroitness
in the shooting of stones out of a sling,
they had dislodged it from a rafter in
the house. Children in the British Isl
ands should he better treated. Let
them not only have their meals unfail
ingly, hut let them he at all other
times tempted and bribed to cat. —
Cakes and sweetmeats of alluring shape
and colour, fruits, and palatable messes,
should, without any regularity, he add
ed to the diet of a child. The stomach,
we know, requires three or four hours
to digest a meal, expects a moderate
routine of tasks, and between each task
looks for a little period of rest. Now,
as we hope to create a weak digestion,
what is more obvious than that we
must use artifice to circumvent the
stomach? In one hour we must come
upon it unexpectedly with a dose of
fruit and sugar; then, if the regular
dinner have been taken, astonish the
digestion, while at work upon it, with
the appearance of an extra lump of
cake, and presently some gooseberries.
In this way we soon triumph over Na
ture, who, to speak truth, does not per
mit to us an easy victory, and does try
to accommodate her working to our
whims. We triumph, and obtain our
reward in children pale and polite,
children with appetites already formed,
that will become our good allies against
their health in after life.
Principiis obsta. Let us subdue
mere nature at her first start, and make
her civilized in her beginnings. Le* us
wipe the rose-tint out of the child’s
check, in good hope that the man will
not he able to recover it. White, yel
low', and purple —let us make them to
be his future tri-colour.
[To he con tinned.]
iT'ljr ffuirli) of jfnsljimi.
GRAND REFORM IN CHRISTIAN
COSTUME.
Throughout Christian Europe, North
and South America, and the European
colonies in Asia, all classes of men
above the grade of boors, have adopted
the same fashion of dress. Between
the gentleman in a St. Petersburg
drawing-room on the first of January,
and one in a Calcutta drawing-room on
the first of July, there is no material
difference of costume. A coat, vest,
pantaloons and hat, made after the pre
vailing mode in Philadelphia, are in no
degree remarkable on the banks of a
Dutch canal or on the peaks of the
Pyrennees. But this is not all the ab
surdity of Christian costume, that it is
not adapted to the circumstances of
the wearer, or the character or climate
of his country. It caricatures the hu
man form divine, takes from the well
proportioned person his symmetry, and
makes the ill-proportioned conspicu
ously deformed. The painter and sculp
tor reflect despairingly of their tasks
when required to unite sentiment and
historic truth in the likeness of any one
wearing the preposterous dress of the
present age. Hence we see the Duke
of Wellington in gigantic bronze and
primitive nudity—and Washington in
marble almost as thoroughly disrobed.
If the artist thus shrinks hopelessly
from the attempt of embodying hero
ism in breeches and a double-tailed
coat, it must be that true taste abhors
these disguises, and that the wearing of
them is an outrage on nature and com
mon sense.
Among the suggestions growing out
of the great Exhibition to be held next
year in London, is one of a convention
of artists to deliberate on this not un
important matter of gentlemen’s—or
if the more general word is preferable
—of men’s dress, and to propose a
change in it, conformable to the dic
tates of true art. Nature teaches the
admiration, love, and imitation of the
beautiful. In the blue and spangled
sky, in the green and flowery earth, in
beast and bird, and above all, in the
rose and lily, the diamond and the pearl
of woman’s face, eye and mouth, we
are taught that beauty is pleasing to
the great designer and creator of all,
and that man in cherishing his taste for
it, is fulfilling a legitimate end of his
intellect. The fashion of an intelligent
man’s dress should not be left to the
determination of an ignorant tailor—
ignorant, we mean, of what constitutes
artistical harmony of outline and of
colour. This is a subject for the study
and decision of Angelos, Raphaels,
Corregios and Canovas —of the divinest
imaginations which have given to the
world imperishable creations of love
liness.
Why should all our associations of
fitness and picturesque effect in costume
be confined to canvass or to the stage?
Why should real life he robbed of any
attainable enjoyment ? There have
been various lanciful definitions of man
—hut none, perhaps, would be more
accurate, than to call him an animal
with a perception ol the beautiful —
peculiar to him, and which no teaching
can impart to the brute. Not to exer
cise this perception, not to contribute
to the pleasure which it may impart, is
to discard a distinctive and heavenly
gift —more distinctive than truth, hope
or charity, than memory or judgment.
* * * *
We have no idea that the world
should be transformed into dandies, or
that thoughts of dress should usurp the
place of vital matters. Cicero, draped
in the graceful folds of his toga, was
probably no more a fop than Penn in
Ins smooth shad-bellied coat. Any uni
versal style can neither encourage nor
repress dandyism —but if it be suitable
and beautiful, it must go far to add to
physical comfort and intellectual plea
sure. To see a properly dressed per
son, or an assemblage of persons, is to
experience a certain emotion necessa
rily agreeable. To cultivate such emo
tions is a part of wisdom, an end of
life, a foretaste of heaven, a right of
our nature. No one walks the grand
streets of Paris without enjoying the
works of genius in the structures which
fill his eyes. He may walk almost tor
miles between the stupid brick walls of
Philadelphia, w ithout experiencing one
agreeable sensation. Shall we prefer
Philadelphia to Paris on this account?
The argument is equally good in a
choice between well-designed and ill
designed costume. It we have eyes to
see, let us see —see all that human
eyes may especially delight in, and not
content ourselves with the vision that
belongs to the beasts which perish. So
heaven speed the cause of Art, and de
liver man’s body from the dominion of
ignorance and stupidity, which rob it
now of its fair proportions. W hen we
would assimilate any one to the most
beautiful ideal, we say “as beautiful as
an angel.” Imagine an angel habited in a
black cylindrical hat, a sombre “dress”
coat, vest and pantaloons, a starched
standing shirt-collar and a choking cra
vat! If we would not so disguise an
gels, why so disguise the creature, who
was made only “a little lower than the
angels ?”—City Item.
(gtntrnl ifilrrtir.
THE FLOWER GATHERER.
[FROM THE GERMAN OF KR IT MM ACKER. 3
“God sends upon the wings of Spring,
Fresh thoughts into the breasts ot flowers.”
Miss Bremer.
The young and innocent Theresa had
passed the most beautiful part ot the
spring upon a bed of sickness; and as
soon as ever she began to regain her
strength,she spoke offlowers,asking cou
tinualy if her favourites were again as
lovel. as they were the year before when
she had been able to seek for and admire
them herself. Erick, the sick girl’s lit
tle brother,took a basket,and showing it
to his mamma,said in a whisper, “Mam
ma, lwill run out and get poor Theresa
the prettiest I Can find in the fields.” —
!So out he ran, for the first time for
many a long dav, and he thought
that spring had never been so beautiful
before; for he looked upon it with a
gentle and loving heart, and enjoyed a
run in the fresh air, after having been
a prisoner by his sister’s couch, whom
lie had never left during her illness. —
The happy child rambled about, uphill
and down hill. Nightingales sang, bees
hummed, and butterflies flitted round
him, and the most lovely flowers were
blooming at his feet. He jumped about,
he danced, he sang, and wandered from
hedge to hedge, and from flower to flow
er, with a soul as pure as the blue sky
above him, and eyes that sparkled like
a little brook bubbling from a rock.
At last he had filled his basket quite
full of the prettiest flowers; and to
crown all, he made a wreath of lield
strawberry flowers, which he laid on
the top of it, neatly arranged on some
grass, one might fancy them a string
of pearls, they looked so pure and fresh.
The happy boy looked with delight at
his full basket, and putting it down by
his side, rested himself in the shade of
an old oak, on a carpet of soft green
moss. Here he sat, looking at the
beautiful prospect that lay spread out
before him in all the freshness of spring,
and listening to the ever-charming songs
of the birds. But he had really tired
himself out with joy ; and the merry
sounds of the fields, the buzzing of the
insects, and the birds’songs, all helped
to send him to sleep. And peacefully
the fair child slumbered, his rosy check
resting on the hands that still held his
treasured basket.
But while he slept a sudden change
came on. A storm arose in the hea
vens, but a few moments before so blue
and beautiful. Heavy masses of clouds
gathered darkly and ominously togeth
er ; the lightning flashed, and the thun
der rolled louder and nearer. Suddenly
a gust of wind roared in the boughs of
the oak, and startled the boy out of his
quiet sleep. lie saw the whole heavens
veiled by black clouds ; not a sunbeam
gleamed over the fields, and a heavy
clap of thunder followed his waking.
The poor child stood up, bewildcrd at
the sdden change; and now the rain
began to patter through the leaves of the
oak, so lie snatched up his basket, and
ran toward home as fast as his legs
could carry him. The storm seemed
to burst over his head. Rain, hail, and
thunder, striving for the mastery, al
most deafened him,and made him more
bewildered every minute. Water
streamed from his poor soaked curls
down his shoulders, and he could scarce
ly sec to find his way homeward. All
on a sudden a more violent gust of
wind than usual caught the treasured
basket, and scattered all his carefully
collected flowers far away over the
field. 11 is patience could endure no
longer, for his face grew distorted with
rage, and he flung the empty basket
from him, with a burst of anger. Cry
ing bitterly, and thoroughly wet, he
reached at last his parents’ house in a
pitiful plight.
Bi t soon another change appeared ;
the storm passed away, and the sky
grew clear again. The birds began
their songs anew, the countryman his
labour. The air had became cooler
and purer, and a bright calm seemed
to lie lovingly in every valley and on
every hill. What a delicious odor
rose from the freshened fields! and
their cultivators looked with grateful
joy at the departing clouds, which had
poured the fertilizing rain upon them.
The sight of the blue sky soon tempted
the frightened boy out again, and being
by this time ashamed of his ill-temper,
he went very quietly to look for his
discarded basket, and to try and fill it
again. He seemed to feel anew life
within him. The cool breath of the
air—the smell of the fields—the leafy
trees —the warbling birds, all appeared
doubly beautiful after the storm, and
the humiliating consciousness of his
foolish and unjust ill-temper softened
and chastened his joy. After a long
search he spied the basket lying on the
slope of a hill, for a bramble hush had
caught it and sheltered it from the vio
lence of the wind. The child felt
quite thankful to the ugly-looking bush
as lie disentangled the basket.
But how great was his delight on
looking around him, to see the fields
spangled with flowers, as numerous as
the stars of heaven ! for the air had
nourished into blossom thousands of
daisies, opened thousands of buds, and
scattered pearly drops on every leaf.
Erick flitted about like a busy bee,
and gathered away to his heart’s con
tent. The sun was now near his set
ting, and the happy child hastened
home with his basket full once more.
How delighted he was with his flow
ery treasure, and with the pearly gar
land of fresh strawberry-flowers! The
rays of the sinking sun played over his
fair face as he wandered on, and gave
his pretty features a placid and con
tented expression. But his eyes sparkled
much more joyously when he received
the kisses and thanks of his gentle sis
ter. “Is it not true, dear,” said his
mother, “ that the pleasures we pre
pare for others are the best of all ?”
THE INDIANISOTII Eli.
The following account serves to show
us, that the Almighty has not left him
self without a witness, even aiming pa
gan nations, and it ill-becomes us to
say that the Lord does not reveal him
self at times to those who look to him
for help, who never have heard of the
way of life and salvation hy Jesus
Christ.
Famehanuet, an Indian of prime
quality, and his wife, on Martha’s Vine
yard, having buried their first fivechil
dren successively, every one of them
within ten days of their birth, —not-
withstanding all their use of powows
and of medicines to preserve them, —
they had a sixth child, a son, born
about the year 1638, which was a few
years before the English first settled
on the Vineyard. The mother was
greatly perplexed with fear that she
should lose this child, like the former;
and utterly despairing of any help from
such means as had been formerly tried,
with so little success, as soon as she
was able, with a sorrowful heart she
took up her child, and went out into
the field, that she might weep out her
sorrows. While she was musing on
the insufficiency of all human help, she
felt it powerfully suggested to her mind,
that there is one Almighty God who
is to he prayed unto; that this God
who had given being to herself, and all
other people, and had given her child
unto her, was easily able to continue
the life of her child. Hereupon this
poor pagan woman resolved that she
would seek unto this God for that
mercy, and she did accordingly. The
issue was, that her child livgd ; and her
faith in Him who thus answered her
prayer, was wonderfully strengthened ;
the consideration thereof caused her to
dedicate this child unto the service of
that God who hail preserved his life,
and educate him, as far as might he,
to become the servant of God.
Not long after this, the English came
to settle on Martha’s Vineyard ; and
the Indians who had been present at
some of the English devotions, report
ed that they assembled frequently to
gether, and that the man who spoke
among them often looked upward. —
This woman from this report, present
ly concluded that their assemblies were
for prayers, and that their prayers were
unto that very God whom she had ad
dressed for the life of her child. She
was confirmed in this, when the Gospel
was not long after preached by Mr-
Mayhew to the Indians ; which gospel
she readily, cheerfully, and heartfully
embraced. And in the confession that
she made publicly, at her admission in
to the church, she gave a relation of
the preparation for the knowledge ot
Christ, wherewith God had, in this re
markable way favoured her; Her
child whose name was Japhet, became
afterwards an eminent minister of
Christ. lie was pastor to an Indian
church on Martha’s \ ineyard ; he also
took much pains to preach to other In
dians on the main land, and his labours
were attended with much success.
INTERESTING BRIDAL RACE.
The conditions of the bridal are these
—The maiden has a certain start given,
which she avails herself of to gain a suf
licent distance from the crowd to ena
ble her to manage her steed with free
dom, so as to assist her in the persuit
of the suitor whom she prefers. On a
signal from the father, all the horsemen
gallop after the fair one, and whichever
succeeds in encircling her waist with
his arm,no matter whether disagreeable
or not to her choice, is entitled to claim
her as his wife. After the usual delay
incident upon such occasions, the maid
quits the circle of her relations, and
puting her steed into a hard gallop,
darts into the open plain. When sat
isfied of her position, she turns round
to the impatient youths, and stretches
out her arms towards them as if to woo
their approach. This is the moment
for giving the signal to commence the
chase, and each of the impatient youths,
dashing his pointed heels into his
courser’s sides, darts like the unheed
ing hawk in pursuit of his fugitive dove.
The savannah was extensive, full 12
miles long and 3in width;-and as the
horsemen sped across the plain, the fa
vorite lover became soon apparent bv
the efforts of the maiden to avoid all
others who might approach her. At
length, after nearly two hours’ racing
the number of pursuers is reduced to
four, who are altogether, and gradually
gaining on the pursued. W ith them is
the favorite; but alas! his horse suddenly
fails in his speed; and as she anxiously
turns her head, she perceives with dis
may the helpless position of her lover.
‘ach of the more fortunate leaders,
eager with anticipated triumph, bend
ing his head on his horse’s mane, shouts
at the top of his voice, “I come, my
Peri! I’m your lover.” But she, ma
king a sudden turn and lashing her horse
almost to fury darts across their path,
and makes for that part of the chum
chum (plain) where her lover is vainly
endeavouring to goad on his weary
steed. The three others instantly
cheek their career ; but in the hurry to
turn back, two of the horses are dashed
furiously against each other, so that
both steeds and riders roll over the
plain. The maiden laughed, (for she
well knew that she could elude the
single horseman,) and flew to the
point where her lover was. But the
only pursuer wss rarely mounted, and
not easily shaken off. Making a last
and desperate effort, he dashed along
side the maiden, and stretching out his
arm, almost won the unwilling prize;
but she, bending her head to the horse’s
neck, eluded his grasp and wheeled otF.
Ere the discomfitted horseman could
again approach her, her lover’s arm
was around her waist; and amidst the
shouts of the spectators they turned
towards the fort. — Captain Burslam's
Peep into Turkistan.
iDrigiiml |'nrtrij.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
TOGETHER.
“ Together, oh the perfect happiness of that one word.”
L. E. L.
Heart3, to whom mine own is clinging,
With a love so true and deep,
Come gather round, this starless evening,
And let us friendship’s vigil keep.
List not the storm king as he rages,
In this dark and gloomy weather,
We have sunshine bright to cheer us,
In that blessed word, “ together.”
Ah, ye’ve come, but still are missing
Links from out the household chain,
Oh! will the future, e’re restore us,
Those loved, precious forms again?
Death and Absence, mighty shadows,
Cast upon the household hearth,
Thou hast borne our loved ones from us,
Thou hast cheeked our songs of mirth.
Sad hearts, for home forever sighing,
Lone pilgrims from the household band,
Seeking some oasis verdant,
In the stranger’s desert land, —
E’en if sad and weary hearted,
Ye could bear life’s stormy weather,
If above, in heaven’s cerulean,
Shone the rainbow of “ together.”
Gaze in memory's magic mirror,
See the homestead’s open door,
Look ! the loving group’s assembled,
As they were in days of yore !
But see! a mighty shadow darkens,
Home, and heart, and saddened face,
Cast by truant brothers wandering,
Far from out their household place.
Blessed love, thou white-winged angel,
Guarding home with faithful care,
Weaving in a wreath immortal,
Affection’s (lowers, springing there ;
Standing firm with finger pointing
Through misfortune’s stormy weather
To the heaven’s, where in brightness
Shines the rainbow of “ together.”
Hearts to whom mine otvn is clinging,
With this one thought, I ever pray,
That nought shall have a strength sufficient,
Our steps to part upon life’s way.
Then let the wild waves dasli around us,
Let misfortunes cloud our weather,
We’ll link our clinging hands securely,
And brave the bitter storm, “ Together.”
Charleston. E. B. C.
iDnr i'rttrrn.
Correnyondenee of the Southern Literary Gazette.
NEW YORK, Aug. 9, 1850.
The Statue of Calhoun was brought
up from Fire Island oil Thursday, by
Mr. Johnson’s yacht, Twilight, which
has been devoted by its owner to the
recovery of the lost treasure, with so
much energy and perseverance. The
statue was placed on the deck of the
yacht, shrouded with the national col
ours, while the flags of the vessel and
of the Revenue Cutter in attendance,
were suspended at half mast. Mr.
Maxwell, the Collector of the Port, ac
companied by a large party of iadies
and gentlemen, made a visit to the
yacht on the same day, for the purpose
of seeing the Statue of the illustrious
Carolinian. It was not removed from
the box in which it was first placed.
I am sorry to say that it has su tained
more serious damage than I supposed
when 1 wrote you last. The left hand,
whic h held the scroll inscribed with the
word “Constitution,” is broken off,
with a portion of the arm, as far as the
elbow. Every effort was made to re
cover the fragments, but without suc
ee s. The first joint of the thumb alone
was found in the box. It seems to
have received a heavy blow, supposed
to have been occasioned by the fall of
the marble which formed a part of the
vessel’s freight. With this exception,
which I hope is not an omen of the
fate of the Constitution, the Statue is
uninjured. No stain or discoloration
rests upon the pure marble. I under
stand that it is to be sent to Charles
ton by the Southerner, which leaves
New York to-day.
A sad incident took place day before
yesterday, in the death ot a celebrated
English authoress Mrs. Hell Martin.
She had been in the city only about
ten days, having arrived in a feeble
state of health from Ireland. She was
exposed to severe sufferings during the
voyage, and on her landing, was so far
reduced, as to be pronounced in a con
dition of decided danger. After her
arrival in New York, she went to the
Union Place Hotel, with her husband,
which house she never left. Great in
terest was excited in her fate by the
families residing at the Hotel, from
whom she received every consolation
that sympathy for a stranger and a
woman of genius could render. She
was the daughter of the most wealthy
commoner in England, name l Martin,
her husband on his marriage being au
thorised by Act of Parliament to as
sume the family name. The last work
which she wrote was the novel called
“Julia Howard,” recently re-published
by the Harpers, and certainly one of
the freshest, most brilliant, and most
passionate pictures of the day. It is
written in a style of such masterly
boldness and vigor, that many have as
serted that it could never have pro
ceeded from a woman’s pen. I believe,
on the contrary, that its exquisite de
lineations of character, and its fine per
ception of the mysteries of the heart,
stamp it as the work of a woman—but
a woman of no common originality
and strength.
Mrs. Martin is said to have held ex
tensive landed estates in Ireland, but
on account of the embarrassed condi
tion of that country, to have received
no avails from their revenue. Her visit
to this country, I am told, was with re
ference to a literary work, of which
the scene was to be laid in America.
Her sudden death has produced a sin
cere grief in numerous circles here,
which had been admirers of her genius,
but probably now hearing of her name
for the first time.
I see it announced that Whitney,
who obtained some celebrity a few
years since as an elocutionist and lec
turer, has returned to this country, from
a very successful career abroad. He
proposes to deliver a course on English
oratory, with imitations of the most
distinguished parliamentary ‘speakers
in Great Britain.
The enthusiasm for Jenny Lind still
keeps up to white heat. Her audiences
now present a curious amalgam of the
fashion ot the city an 1 the bone and
muscle of the country. The opera is
not deserted, bat the regular votaries
crowd Triplet* Hall in great numbers.
At the sane time, the rail roads in
every direction are bringing hosts of
people on exc irsioa tickets to listen to
the great attraction. Parties are con
stantly arriving from towns and vil
lages on the line of the rail road, from
Vermont, New Hampshire and Mnsa
chusetts. Jenny Lind is even melting
down the difference between town and
country. The hotels are constantly
crowded with this influx of guests.—
After a concert, the drawing roo ns of
the Astor and Irving House are gay
with rosy beauty from the “ rural dis
tricts.” Os course, the Nightingale
disappoints none who nave made the
pilgrimage for her sake.
Parodi has established her reputation
as the best prima donna yet imported
into this country. She has great dra
matic power, and her vocalization is
enchanting. She satisfies every one as
a glorious singer, though the most ex
acting critics do not admit her claims
as a high priestess of art. She appears
to-night for the third time as Norma,
and will sing no doubt to an overflow
ing house.
The Mercantile Library Lectures
were commenced on Tuesday evening,
with a discourse by E. P. Whipple, the
celebrated Boston review-writer. It
was rather a brilliant performance, and
spoken memoriter, without the slight
est scrap of white paper to aid his re
collection. The Committee of the
Mercantile Library, in this way, are
almost equal to Barnum, as caterers
for the public. They have given the
best that was extant for a few seasons
past, and now their Lectures tia"e be
come quite a prominent feature in the
entertainments of the winter. I am
sorry they hive decided to have the
rest of the course in the dis nal laber
naole, insteal of their pleasant, cosy
lecture room in Clinton Hall.
There is no news of interest this
week in the literary world. No more
gift-books as evergreens for Christmas.
Putnam’s promised editions of illus
trated works have not yet made their
appearance. Mrs. E. Oakes Smith's
play, called “ The Roman Tribute,” is
to be brought out at the Philadelphia
Arch-street Theatre on Monday night.
Mr. and Mrs. Conmor have had it in
hand for some time. They have stu
died the parts with great car**, and be
stowed a good deal of expense on the
scenery and costume, intending to pro
duce it in the most brilliant style. I
J
am told they are quite confident of suc
cess, and that the expectations of the
theatre-going public in the Quaker city
have been highly raise !. The author
ess is certainly a woman of fine genius,
but she his never yet discovered the
art of mixing her pure gold with the
kind of alloy to suit the popular taste.
James is lecturing at New Haven,
with considerable success. In spite of
the. attack made on him in the Ameri
can Review, James is a fine fellow, and
quite free from John Bull prejudices.
He talks better than he writes and tells
a story with irresistible unction.
It is said tint B ilwer has become to
tally deaf. One of his ears has been
in a bad wav for some time, and during
an operation by a London aurist, he
suddenly lost the use of both.
A sensation was produced in Broad
way, a couple of ii nirs ago, by an as
sault on James Gordon Bennett, by
the recent candidate for the District
Attornership, John Graham. Bennett
had been wolfish on Graham during
the canvass, and the defeated aspirant
takes vengeance on the Editor. The
attack was made in broad day-light, in
a very p.iblie thoroagii fa re near Caaal
street, and 6fcour.se drew together a
great crowd. Bennett is said to have
received some savage hits, an l to have
come off with da uaged nose and eyes-
The Police was scarce on the occasion,
as Graham was well-dressed and Ben
nett no favourite. T.
-a ♦
The new patent for silvering
gla-is is about to be applied to the keys
of pianos, which will be additionally
embossed and coloured according to
circumstances.
JlliattUimt}.
a uisrociiAcr ===a=a =
The Cincinnatti Nonpanel in -
following article,gives a meritedreW
to a class that are getting f ;ir
rnerous in our country.
We are very aristocratic here in
goodly city of Cincinnati. Exclus'/
ness is fashionable—coteries are f/*’
ed, who fancy they comprise all •;
taste, fashion and talent existing.* p
daring intruder presumes to enter /
charmed circle, he meets with a reby
which tells him that he is looked on
an inferior, no matter what his perse/
worth and merits may be. It serv/
the fool right. What business has at!’
one to suppose that sterling charaetf
and cultivoted intellect could constitut
a claim to be received into fashionable
society? Fashionable—laugh! .
children of coblersand tinkers puttir/
on airs, aping the manners of f ore ;/
aristocrats, and claiming to give t/i
and character to society. FshionableZ
quotha! Why they will srnell 0 f
leather and prunella.
A gentleman passenger on a steal
boat from New Orleans to Cincinnati
on the trip up, was introduced to a
young lady on board by a gentleman
relation of hers. We give a brief de
script.on of the two. The young lady
was charmingly lovely, and amiable in
manners; the gent was witty, senti
mental and amusing, his manner noble,
his figure manly—such a one as would
catch a lady's eye.
Thrown together in each other’s so
ciety, and mutually attracted, it is not
to be wondered that they grew quite
familiar. They had tete-a-tetes on the
guards, promenaded the decks arm in
arm, the gentleman whispered soft non
sense in the lady’s ear. The passen
gers pronounced it a case of love at
first sight, the ladies were more re
spectful to one who they thought was
soon to be a matron, and chamber
maids, (as chambermaids always do,)
waited upon no one else but the” bride.
Miserable prophets—it was not fated
to be a match.
The boat at length arrived at her
[dace of destination, the association of
the two loving ones was at an end, and
they were obliged to separate. Whis
pered adieus, with a soft entreaty from
him, was answered by thrusting a card
into his hand, and thus they parted, she
to her father’s marble halls, and lie to
the east, whither business imperatively
called him. The hope of seeing heron
his return filled his heart with jov.
She made an astounding discovery
shortly after her return home. A friend
of hers who sported mustachios and a
goatee, quizzed her unmercifully for
losing her heart to a mechanic who was
going to Washington to get a patent
for anew plow. This was very pro
voking to her. She protested that she
thought he was a gentleman, or she
never would have accepted his atten
tions.
Six weeks flew by, and the young
mechanic was on his return home. His
heart bounded with joy as he approach
ed Cincinnati. Visions of beauty, grace
and loveliness floated through his brain.
Oh what pleasure to meet La Belle of
the Queen City. Her charms had
made a deep impression on hi> suscep
tible heart. His foot touched the
wharf, and away he flew to the man
sion of his beloved. He was ushered
in,and his name announced. The young
lady floated into the room. Oh, how
lovely! But what is the matter ? She
does not know him, bestows no glance
of recognition upon the face lit up with
pleasure at seeing her again.
“ You do not recollect me,” said he
timidly, and mortified to think the im
pression—if one he had made—was so
evanescent.
“ I do not, sir,” replied she, in a cold
tone, and with an air of hauteur such
as a tragedy queen affects.
lie reminded her of their previous
acquaintance on board the steamer.
“Oh, yes, yes —a steamboat ac
quaintance. Good morning, sir,” and
with this answ’er she left the room.
Her old papa had heard the name
of his visitor, when announced, but
thought his presence would be mal
apropos at their first meeting, so the
good-natured old gent remained in his
room. He knew the real position and
standing of his visitor, and hugged him
self at the prospect of Julia marrying
the Hon. Mr. , M.C., rich and dis
tinguished. Mnstachios had humbug
ged Julia. She, because he was a me
chanic, had given him an unpardonable
insult.
The reader may fancy Julia’s morti
fication, and her father’s rage, when
they had a mutual explanation.
San Juan de Nicaragua British
Movements. — i’lie arrival of the Phila
delphia, by the way of Kingston, Ja
maica gives some interestig intelligence
relating to the valuable port which the
English call Greytown, but which the
Christian world calls San Juan de Nic
aragua. It seems that the influx ot
Americans there lias excited alarm for
the stability of English usurpation ot
that place. The Kingston Journal states
that Mr. Green, the so-called English
Consul, but practical British dictator, at
San J uan, has made a requisition on the
Governor of Jamaica for an additional
force to march to her Britannic Majes
ty’s brig Persian and the schooner Ber
muda, which have hitherto been station
ed at the port of San Juan. The Inde
fatigable, of fifty guns, has been dis
patched to meet any possible emer
gency. The /orna/significantly adds,
“there really must be something ex
pected in that quarter to require the
presence of a Ligate and two othei
vessels of war at Greytown.
The truth is, remarks the N. lh T ’
all , Great Britain, under the busy ad
ministration ofthe meddlesome Palmer
ston, does not intend, and never did,
to give up San J uan ; and the secret ot
the present formidable movement L to
overawe the Americans who are pour
ing into Nicaragua through this same
port. The whole project confirms the
statements and opinions ol our Charge,
Mr. Squire, as set down in his letter to
the Hon. Mr. Foote, published by 115
on Friday last. England, as usual, un
der Palmerston, is playing false. l ie
Clayton and Bulwer treaty isa humbug;
and our government should order, at
once, two or three vessels of “at to
San Juan, to protect our interests aim
our citizens. It is a lact disgrace u
to us as a nation, that no Anieiieun
government vessel ever touched t u re ,
although our trade is greater than t
of any nation at that port, and teni°
our merchants vessels have been m t