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_ iron 'i_‘lIE ,t;A;n'r_rna~ «
, THE .‘Ct9‘4v1'rt.asT.
to you beach and viewthe wave,
That beats upon the shore ;
’Twill ever live’, the strand to‘ lave 3' .
It ne'er will cease ‘to roar.
The bft: repeated swelling tide}
_ Pursues its tireless drift;
Revolving o’er the ocean wit'le—-'-
Remurmuring on ‘the clift.
Oft will it ebb, and flow again;
Till Planets ticaseto run :
Till time expires; upon the main
’Twill hail the rising sun.
Not so with human life and_ time,
For soqn its flow is o'er" ;
It quickly rises to itspritne,
Then ebbs and flows no more.
Mon rises once, but not again,
, F”o‘r he continues not :
_ Just like a flower upon the plain,
He dies, and is forgot ! ORASMUS.
7.’lz.t: T1"el‘il.-3 Voz'c'r"—-By Sn'I.r.fi.'c1e OSBORN.
. TH A'I‘_voicc—O, how‘its'wat-blings thrill
Each nerve with rapture, while I hear !
‘Wliilei earthly thought is still,
And none’ but p'u'res_t_ pleasures fill
My senses, crowdingat my ear.‘
~ Ha_rlt_ !——-how it swells !--so swells‘ my soul
_ ‘With joy exalted, pure and holy ; '
It rises 1 Earth thy base controul
I spurn !,--Adieu vain world of folly I
For I disclainiall gr6v’l_ing joys——
I feast on sound-—_iI live ‘on sonigg;
I rise immortal, with tlrat,vo'ic.é,'.
To heaven, where all such strains belong.
In tender cadence now it falls—- A
Bt~eathes~géntly through the sacred dome,
Like the angelic tone that calls
A kindred spirit -to its home.
"fis endt:d——But the lovely strain
Still'brcathes delight on Fancy '3 eat ;‘—-
Hortal I findmyself again ;
I l—:n‘ow it by this starting tear.
’Tis not mypresent sense‘ alone
That \vakes,'sweet Latvian, at thy song !
‘But’ images bf /tleasuries flown, «
Around the seat of Memory throng.
For then I thiuk.of other days,
VV.hen_ oxn. will: heart as pure as thine,‘
fleside me, rais’d tb‘e.bym‘n of praise,
And blended all her soul with mine.
Singvon, fair warbler! 0, restore
The dearrillusion to my view !
To soothe my wid:ow’d heart, oni:e more
'I‘heLdt-\e_-am of past delights renew.
_lV_Iisce1lany. I
Fronzyllze Desk of Pobir Robert the 5'cr;'bc..
A gill Va t_lay-—the thing is clear,
Twenty-three gallons maltes a year,
Now this would buy a cow" an‘<l_kcep hcr—:-
Two suits of'clotltes'—zt score of p——or
Twenty good things than "Brandy cheaper.
» , OLD ROBERT.
There is a pleasant little village which stands
on the’ borders of a small lake in the western p‘art .
of Connecticut. A tavern, the only one in town,
kept at the sign of the Grey Goose, entertained
1116’ Dlzslzxg stranger, and in the winter evenings
was theplace where we held our dances.--for old
{obert used to dance in his younger days. I re-
member well the merry evenings I have Cnjoycd
there, and methinks I can still “ tire down” the
puny stripplings‘ of the present day.
Among the companions ofour recreations were
two, whose veracity and wit I could not but ad-
m'irc—'-'-and whose good nature and virtues I could
not but love—Ans.\Lo.\t AcTtvl«: was the eldest
of my friends ;- his father was poor, but he gave"
Absalom a good common education,_ and then
‘ hound him"-_appretttice to a \'t'ag'gOn'1’(2‘ZtlIt:l' of the
town. .\Vhen I saw A‘bs‘alon'r,last, before my late
visit to Applebury, it7 was his birth wedding
night. Just 23 years old, he married black-eyed j
Susan, as we called her—-and she might as well
have been called red lip’d Susan, for I neversaw
cherries redder. He had taken a shop for him-
self, and having got a journeyman from New-
York, had added the making of chaises to his old
business. ,
Absalom was frugal; above all, Absalom was
TEMPERATE. . 4 ' _
“ Grog and I,” he used to say “ are sworn‘ en-
emies”-—Not but now and then he would take a
glass of wine, or a mug of flipwith a“ friend; but
‘he drank sparingly. They do say,‘though, at 006
fourth of July, his eyes sparkled a little, and he
éottltl not say Sheboleth for the soul of him.-—
But that’s neither here nor there: he was a so-
ber man. -_ ' V
And what ch you think was the consequence ;
\Vhy when I went to Applebury last October who
should I hcar’m talk of butthe good Squire Ac-
tive--and Deacon Active. Why he has money
to lend ! he owns two of the best farms on- the
south side of, the lake--t'he poor all bless'him.--
He now rides in his coach, on which is painted
a Bee, an /Int, and a Glass at/isicle (107011, with this
motto——“ 1rt1)tJs'rIt-it-.'-‘—1‘1~:.i~rrr:1tm,*cis-By I/tee I
:ride.'’ ’ . . H -i
E~nw'/trtn Exfsv,‘ my other friend and compan-
ion received from his father ztfortune of hve.thou-
sand pounds. At the age of 19 he took his dc-’
g-.r‘ee'at Yale, with singular honor. The study
of the law suited best his capacity and lnC‘lll]t.l-
tion ; he studied this science under the most ap-
masters, and at 2211:: appeared at the
bar ; I shall never ‘forget the day when he made
his first pica. All Applebury went down to hear
him, for Edwartl was a favorite of the people ;—-‘-
and well he might be ; for there w'as’:1ta single
Proved
. life.»
iibhe the village, ,btit couitl tellof some good
"and kind. thing he had done."
'tn_an; ‘¥ou may remember--‘-it was old Mrs. Ro-
gers,‘ who sold‘ gingerbread arid_bcci" just above
the stocks and whipping post north of the meet-
ing house. She had an only-‘daughter, a sweet
little rosebttd, just seventeen, who was the so-
lace and delight of her life.-—-Ar_l unfeeling land-
lord demanded the sacrifice of Mary, or threat-
ened her ruin. . A
4 \Vell, the court was opened-—“the witnesses ex‘-
ajmitrc-d—-and it came to Edward’s turn to speak.
He arose--O I he was a handsome man, but now
his cheeks look’d pale—-l1i's lips trembled-and
.his white hands shook. My heart trembled for
fear he would not go on—-by and by his voice
rose-—-his cheeks regained their colour-—he rai-
ed his arm most gracefully, and his eyes spark-
l_ed—-you might have heard a pin fall.-—He in one
moment stirred up the feelings so against the
hard hearted landlord, that every one was in a
rage. And then painted the sufferings of the
widow and orphan—-in spite of me I cried like a
child.‘ I never loved him half so well in my
Ours parson, I remember, said that '~‘ the
oil of eloquence was on his tongue, and the hon-
ey of persuasion distilled from his lips.”
I left him just on the eve of being married to
Eunice I-Ieartfree. She was worthy of him, she
danced delig-htfully——sung sweetly—could spin
fifty knots aday, and the parson’s wife was heard.
‘ ‘to~say,~that “"she made the best pudding of any
in the villagéiexcept herself.” R
N ow until the fi'rst- day of October, .I —'had not
been to Applebury for eighteeen years. Just as
the old town Clock ‘struck 4, Ientered the vil-
lage. My lteart fluttered. I looked anxiously
around‘ in hopes to meet the welcome of my
friends—A gloom and solemn stillness seemed
to pervade the village. Presently the bell tolled
'—-and a funeral procession approachetl. I al-
lighted at the Inn and immetliatly enquired who
‘was dead ?- “ Alas the day (exclaimed the old
tlavern-keeper who did not know me)“ there goes
the remains of a man whojeighteen years ago
was the most promising youth in all the country.
.Fortune-—education-—genius, all united torch-
tler him every thlng—'—But- the morning hitters--.
the noontide dram--and the evening sling, have
withered the finest flower in nature’s Garden.—-
Poor Easy ! God rest him !”
Edward had been IN'1'EMPE.RATE. Isttemper-
ance begat idleness and neglect of bu.~.iness--pov-
erty and wretchc-dne‘ss followcd—-and he who
might have reflected honor on his country, poi-
soned by grog, died a beggar. But “ men of gen-
ius, tread lightly over his ashes, for he was your
kinsman,” and if you would avoid his fate, de-
clare with my friend Active, that “ you and grog
are sworn enemies.”
_..,._
. ELEGANT EXTRACT,
From a Sermon on Dom‘estt'c Ilappiness.
Oh, what so refreshing, so sooth-
ing, so satisfying, as thcplacid joy of Home .’ _
See the traveller. Does duty call him for a
season to leave his beloved family ? The image
of his earthly happiness continues vividly in his
remembrance ; it quickens him to diligence ; it
cheers him "under difiiculties ; it makes him
hail the hour which sees hispurposcs accomplish-
ed, and his face turned towards home ; it com-
lmunes with him as he journeys; and he hears
the promise which causes him to hope. “ Thou
shalt know also that thy tabernacle shall bein
peace; and thou shalt view thy habitation and
not sin.” Oh the joyful re-union of a family ;
the pleasures of renewed interview and conver-
sation after ‘days of absence.
Behold the man of science. He drops the la-
bour and painfulness of research, closes his vol-
ume, smooths his wrinkled brows, leaves his stu-
dy, and unbending himself, stoops to the capaci-
ties, yields to the wishes, and mingles with the di-
versions of his’ ehilclren.
“' He will not blue/z t/ml has a fat/zcr’s /marl,
Y '0 take in clzilrlzls-It /zlay a clzit'dz's/1 /tart ;
But bends /zis sturdy back to any toy,
.Tl2at youth takes jiieasurc in, to /z't’ease his boy.” ,
Take the man of trade. \Vhat reconciles him
to the toil of business 3 ‘What enables him to en-
dure the fastidiousness and impertinencc of cus-
tomers? W'hat rewards him for so many hourste-
dious confinement? By and by the seasonwill ar-
rive ! He will be cmbosomed in the caresses of
his family ; I1e.will behold tbetdesire of his eyes,
and tht:'chi'ldren of hislove, for.whom he resigns
his case; and in their welfare and smiles -he
finds his recompencc.
Yonder comes the labot1t*er,—'-He has borne the.
burden and heat of tlt‘e‘(layf;':lhé descending sun‘
has released him from his"t_"o'il';' and he is hastening
home to enjoy repose-—hialf way down the lane,
by the side of which‘ stands his. cottage, his chil-
dren runto meet him ;' one he carries and one
he leads. .-The companion of his,hu'mble life’
ready to furnish him with his repast. See his
toil-worn countenance assumes an air of che'er-
fuluess; his hardships are forgotten ; fatigue ga-
nish'es_ ; he cats and is satisfied _; the evening IS
fair ; the walks with uncovered head around his
garden ; ynters again and retires to rest—-“ and
the rest of the labouring man is sweet,:_whether
he eats little or whether he eats much.” Inhab-
ent to thy comfort? -—-——
“ Peace be to thy house.”
“ Let not ambz'tion,mo‘ck thy useful toil,
T/zy [anclyjoys and destiny obscure ;
J\"or grandeur In-ayr with a clistlaiit/'ul smile,
T/ze s/tart and simjilc animals of tlzejiaor.”
1t‘~tGItA1‘tTUDF; is so dangerotts to itself,
andso detestable to other people; that 006 WOUIKI
the practice of it, without the necessity of enfor-‘
ciug it by law. Not to return one good‘ office for
another, is absolutely inhuman; but to" return
evil for good, is diabolical. y
Amidst the various vices to which human na-
ture is prone, and which mark the degradation it
has suffered, none more strikingly evince its dc-
C) 4
The cause he ‘plead was for hlpoor widow wo-
’would assume modesty as an artifice ; the co-
itant of the lonely dwelling, whojc-an be indiff'er'-‘ ,
I wound you, to ruffle your serenity.
i from the happiness of others.
imagine nature had sufficiently provided against? '
-
bthe’r'vi§e§,;§nd'§fI;et' failings, reason may be able
to aSsigl§g;_,:3,3al1S¢'ili'bUt for tlzdt, she must search
in vain." ‘hat kindness should. ever be returned
with cruelty, "or affectionjbe treated with neglect,
is human1ty’_s_ shame, and man's disgrace. . It is
.certain that ingratitude can only find existence in
;a"depra'v_eId mind, a corrupt heart, and the breast
iltat isa stranger toeveiry virtuous sentiment !-_-—
'I‘he_re is something so. contrary to honor, so re-
pugnant to liuntanity, and so devoid of principle,
even in the bare forgetfulness of favours, that
those who are capable of practising such a mode
of conduct, are thought of with contempt, and
t'.r'eated_'witli scorn. In short, ingratitude is so
contemptibleiin itself, ‘and so generally despised
by the world, that nought but authenticated facts
could prove that so detestable a vice was really
in existence.
'1-‘tto1\t"r1x'B Itocnnsrrin oAzi11"rI:_. __
“ Huzza ! ltuzza 1 huzza !"’-—bawl-
ed a fellow asI was passing him. What’s the
matter, -enquired I—---“ Huzzal huzza! huz-
za !” was his answer. Perhaps thought I, we
have gained some signal victory, (for,it was du-
ringgthe revolution) and so I huzzacd too-—the
crowd increased, and all shouted huzza. The tu-
mult subsided, and on asking the cause of the
fcllow’s outcry, he informed us, with a self appro-
ving laugh, that“ his Dog had just given John's
/lung our tails and s7zea.’ced /zomc.
V My good old Uncle Nan never told me this sto-
ry (for him it was that used to tell it,) without con-
cluding with a long string of good advice.
My son, (the old man used to say,) this little tyi-
fling eventdone me more good than any one ctr-
cumstance of my early life,—it taught me one ve-
ry important thing for a young man to know, that
is, never to undertake or engage in any affair
without first knowing from what principle Iact-
ed, the moving cause, and examining into the
probable" result. Never (he would say.) do this,
that, or the other thing,’ because your neighbor
‘ Such a one’ may have done so ; your neighbor
‘ Such a one’ may be a fool, and it‘ is no more
than prudent to find out before you make a begin-
ning, lest you be foolish like your neighbor.
One evening on coming into his presence he
asked -me significantly, (knowing I had been
with the girls) how I spent my time ;--I answer-
ed him, and then began telling the_ particulars—
as how Miss ‘ Such-a-one,’ was making great hav-
oc amongst the young men’s hearts—and as how
all of them flocked about .-her to the neglect of
the other ladies——and , , (here my uncle in-
terrupted me with the exclamation of) Nonsense!
that puts me in mind of the Dog scrape again!
He then went on to say, that he should have no
hesitation in pronouncing Miss a fool—for, said
he, she must be destitute of delicacy to suffer her-
self thus to be flattered, and not only that, but
must be weak minded into the bargain. My son
continued the old gentleman, never choose you a
wife because of the number of her admirers", or
the noise she makes in society—-for, let me tell
you, it is ten to one but you find more beauty
than good sense, and more impudcnce than real
merit. ' I
.._....
Part of a Letter frow Dr. Franklin, to Dr. Illa-
tlzer of Boston.
The last time I saw your father was in 1714.
He received me in his library ; and on my taking
leave, he showed me a shorter way out of the
house, through a narrow passage which was cros-
sed by a beam overhead. We were still talking
as I withdrew ; be accompanied me behind, and
I turning partly towards him, when he said has-
tily, “ stoop, stoop,” I did not understand him,
till I felt my head hit against the beam. ‘He was
a man who never missed any occasion of .gtvmg
instruction ; and upon this, he said to me, “ you
are young, and have the world before you : stoop k
as you go through it, and you Wlll ‘miss many
hard thumps.” This advice, thus beat into my
head, has frequently been, of use to n_t_e_.; a_I_1d I
often think‘ of it when_I see pride morttfiedflfld
misfortunes brought upon‘ people by carrying
their heads too high. " . .. - -
If women in general knew what was their re-'.
al interest; if they could guess with \§tl1i§t_.a
cjhm-m even the a/tjzearam-e of modesty invests
it'5,possessor, they would dress deeorously from
self-love, if not from principle. I be designing
quette would "adopt it as an allurement ; the'p’!1!‘€:
as her appropriate ‘attraction ; and the voluptu-
ous, as the most infallible art of seduction.
The advantagesof birth, and thesplentlour of
fortune, are trifles when compared with greatness
of mind; [and it is only those who can_bear-pros-
parity without arrogance, and adversity without
meanness, who deserve to be considered as truly
S"°3I'. . . ' -
Unmcrited con-tempt, like the sting of certain
animals, is always more hurtful to the aut/I076‘
than the objects of it. _
True politeness, needs not the __al(I of ceremo-
ny_ An engaging freedom, an easy f_an_ultat_1ty,
and an unreserved sincerity, are the distinguish-
ing characters‘ of gc-nuz'n'e urbantty. . To narrow
minds alone. is a ceremotuous formality pleasing.
Whilst you remain uncensured by the wise and
the good, do not suffer the zdle rlzafl, that cannot
‘A benevolent; mind will ever derive pleasure
‘Peace and good-will ina cottage! a“ belief
than splendour and heartburmngs.
——-fl-"-ii“33"" .
. ,/1ncccl_otc—‘—-Froln the 1Wenzm-.s- of Dr. Franklzn.
' After the defeat of Braddock, the Governor of
Pennsylvania prevailed with me (I-‘rankltn)_ to
take cj,;,,—.re of our north-western frontier. which
'0 . -
was infested by the enemy (-Indians) and P“_"’.‘d°
for the defence of the inhabitants, by I"dlS|1lt-I
troops and ‘wuiltling a‘ line of forts. I undertook
the mima,-y business, though I did not conceive
_l
-u
e ,1? 1 q
_, HM _. i .. .‘~~_ __l- r 1 .’ --z I; . 1 9 .,_.. , . : ,_,_ :_,_ .,,_V,_ H . ;_ _P ‘_'_l n
basentengiltjztn the practice of , 1ngi‘attt_udt_:.. For [ctzlty in" raising men, having soon 500 under iny,
commaxitl-:"_ My'son was‘ my aid-dc’-‘camp, and of
_ great use_.to.~me. . , j _
‘V3 had" .50!‘ our chaplairi a zealous Presbyteri-
anministér, Mr. Bcattyg who complained that
the mendtd not,generall_'y attend his prayers and
_,6>FIlDl:tf=!l1OnS_- When they enlisted; they were
PF‘F'n1|5€_da besides pay and provisions, a gill. of
WI“, 3 d3Ya_ which was punctually, served out”to'
.t_116m: half in the morning, and the other half in
thl-‘v efenfng ; imd_ I observed that they were
_pun_ctual1n att_endmg_to_receive it; upon rwhicli
,I.satd to Mr. Beatty, it is perhaps below the dig.’
ntty of your profession to act as steward ‘of , the
rum ; but if you were to distribute it out justion-5
ly after prayers,_you would have them always a.’
bout you. He liked the thought, undertook thé
the task, and with the help of a ‘few hahds td
, measure out the liquor, executed it to satisfact-'3
ion; and never were prayers more generally
and more punctually attended. .
' Dis/lute Settlecl.—A ‘farmer in" the County of
Philadelphia claimed of the executor of a" per-3
son deceased, a large tree, wl "ch he alledged he
had purchased of the testator in his life-time_.~i_.
The executor was not satisfied that the claim was
ful object" of dispute.
became lmportunate and peremptorily ‘demanded
the tree, which was as pereinptorily refused
a tarnal licking.” You may truly guess we all .tl1<= ¢X€l3Dt0P-
“ So high at last the contest 7'ose,- _
Eran: words, they almost came to blows.”
And having expended much "wind andrmany
words, they ‘separated with a firm resolution on‘
the part of the claimant, at all hazards, to take
the tree vi ct armis ,- and a day last week was fix-'
cd upon to cut down, take and carry the said tree,
and convert the same to his own use. But he
was prevented from carrying his resolve into ex-
ecution, by an order of sequestration from the
I‘-ltgh Chancellor of Heaven, for on the day pre-
vtous to that fixed upon for cutting the tree, it
was struck with lightning, and literally shivercd
1n splinters, even to the roots. ,
Vain man, remember that it is in the power of
Ommpotence, to frustrate the mostfixed and de-
terminedpttrposes.-1’/zilatlcl/mic; Ccntinel.
-1'; —¥?_
Moralist.
:ReIz'gz'on, has laurels which never fade '; crowns
Religion does not lay'her foundations in thesand,
but erecting her temple on the shores of eterni-
ty, bids us enter in, to“ go no more‘ out.”
Mutation, is inscribed in characters clear and.
legible to the eye of reason, upon all terfestial
things ; and so uncertain are our prosperity, our
health, - our enjoyments, our friendship, our all
upon earth, that, as the thistle-down is scatter-
ed by the gentlest breeze, these light and fair
possessions may be wafted away by the first wind
that rises, or the first touch of unexpected adver-
' I i ‘ '
Den!/:.—It has always appearetl to me (says:
Dr. Johnson) one of the most striking passa
ges in the‘ Visions of Quevedo, which stigma’
tizes those as fools who complain they failed of
happiness by sudden death. “ How” says he.
“ can death be sudden to a being who always
knew that he must ‘die, and that the time of his
death ‘was uncertain?” . j .
Since business and gaity are always tlrawing
our attention away from a future state, some ad-
monition is frequently necessary to recall it to
our "minds: and what can more properly renew
the impression than the examples of mortality
which every day supplies ? The great incentive
to virtue‘, is the reflection that we must die; it
will therefore be useful to accustom ourselves,-
whenever we see a funeral, to consider how soon‘
we may be added to the ntmiber of those whose
happiness or. misery shall endure forever.
~""’H6r_v to Live.-"—-Sigismund. Emperor of'Ger-
many, being one day asked, what was the surest
“ only do always: in health what you have often
promised to do when you were sick.” .
Rrjlcctzcns on the Grave.——Ilerc is the last
stage of life's journey. Here‘ is the collecting
rendezvous of suffering mortalsi here is a‘ safe
retreat from the barbarotts shafts of malice, from
pointed perils and from t_nisery’s rod : here, afj
t‘er noble and ignoble views—-after every ardent
‘wish-—'after pursuing every flattering object, we
find the object of them all. Here, from servilc
bondage, and oppression’s iron hand, rests the
wretched negro, whom chance had made a slave":
here he" forgets his galling state. and with his
lordly tyrant sleeps, equally acconnnodated---
Herethe oppressor and oppressed moulder to-
gether. Herc sleep the meanly saving and the
riotous profuse.
the degraded relics of soat ing mortals. Remem-
ber, then, the transient visions of terrestial great-_.
ness ; and act so as to be prepared to pay the mo-
mentary Ioan of Heaven’s great lender.—Blair.
§h:»l1lI'tt.LluIIlltt'.l‘ 2:.
, PAMPHLET&C.’
: HANDBILLS, CARDS, TOWN-
‘onnnns and RECORDS,
and almost é-very description of
__ Book and Job
.l.trlJ.tt
—~- :<,=:-
§§IU{UVTTbH},g
’ExeClLl8d.w‘ll]l neatness and elegance,
==5:_ at the Ofiice of the v
NORWALK GAZETTE. 5:’
5
myself well qualified for it. I had but little diffi-
.\~'_
awnwwnwwwnwnn.
a just one, and for two years this tree was afruit-5 ,
At length the claimant‘
of glory which pass to no envious successor.--_---- ‘ ‘
way of remaining happy in the world! replied, -'
Here, prostrated in the dust, lay ,
A
P‘. .
/4
/r
I
,5
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Norwalk Chronicler