l
l
5.
-1
‘\
1‘ j
. whose par_t do you come ?’ ‘ On my own,’ ‘In.
T ._l
OH Lady, let 4.... an;n‘re’e _,ijs.y;.- 3
«Fades;the ‘ggieen lustre df.ilrin'e.cyc? , l
Ugiclotided-once"I saw’ it shine-’;; - ._ ~ A
»_*vVith spleildilr ‘-inore-than half tliviue.’,_ I I
Say,‘ \:.ill~:it,’ like-the ‘i'atlient‘star‘, ~- '
‘That cheers the lonely 'lio'urs.~o'f,»nigl1t';
_ ‘Vixen some". (lari; _cloud ‘hath .fle.cl.zi_far,-
. . «Again display t‘,liée1'ing light ?.,
. --Softvould I hope-‘-—bi1‘t ah lwitli »pa_iu_,-’
-1- know it Ca!-Lilot-i3llillé~1\gai.n. .
l“}+lF,Z“_;',f;l:1EN'iI‘£liN ‘
Lady» 1‘l!Yfl<§h¢¢l€.‘lC35.liassif3i§ fair-s
But now the li,l_ly_,;linger,_s t,l_ier__e-_§-"} '
wh y has its,=,t5tz56gf_t; s‘o‘;‘quicltly,illo_ivfn’ 2 ,
Where has i7u.~§jpt:ei~i€-;:;.%s ae34;1‘:'iy"go;g5t 2
The young;:ose*‘;bloss:6‘i11fdgin t'hy.‘__lj)’o\vei-,
'l‘ill:_.wiut,er came3~3\i'itli""fin,§é‘i- rude,
_ T_hevliaughty.spoile1' touc_h?d the-l_lower,
1 . ,.An}l‘:'t:li':ll_’d _it'into solitud_e." if _
But ‘soon jreturningi spring ‘will’ give’ " ' "
ltstswécts ‘anew, "and bid it‘ live.‘ '
..And shall no, season give to’ mac,
~ .'.l‘hy O\Vl‘£-T‘-iietlly’. native brilliancly !. .3. . _
- -‘.t'es,Lady-.--when de_atli’s n_ight sha'Il_sp'rca‘t'l_
. Its latest:.darkness round _thy,he.-id, _ I‘
.. This sweet .-remembrance will be curs,
.'l‘h‘at far bey_ond time’:-. troubledjsea,
VVhere no unkindly tempest lo.i_vc_rs,_
_- A, glorious morning ._t_vai_ts'for thee.
'_I‘ here, free, alike from care pr;pa_in,.-
In beauty; thou shalt bloom ag‘ai"n.
. .7v.a1={(1_‘1j11zf0J\r,".s 1‘m1_212,r’r”7a1:L.?
f-‘arewellfto the land, who‘ re -the gloonrof my glory
_ Arose, and o’crshadow’d -the earth. with her.
I name, . . _ . j ; ., . ,.
She ab,andons~me:n-o.w,« but the page of her story,
V -The brightest, or bluckest,':is. fi‘ll’d with my
Mfume. " 4 -‘ . - f .-
1 lj:;1vie;,\‘iiar.i‘fil§-;w.ith'a world,_tvhiclr has va'riquish’d
-. -~.‘”ni.e»..<.>bJr . . .. 7 , T . ’
\Vhent'he in'cteo_r of conquest all_ui'd me too
" far‘;".' i. 1' i 9.
I have t:o%p’t_t,.i_vi.'t1i the nations which 6lr'ea't_l me
_ thus,lone’ly,‘ ‘ ' i " ' 4 " '
‘I he last single captive to millions in war ii’
Farewell‘ to’ thee, France-=-wliere thy diadem
A ' ‘é‘ro"wn’d’ me, ‘ ' ' ‘ I
I ,tnad‘e:'th‘ee the gem and the wonder of earth‘ ;
But thy wealtness decrees I shou_ld- leave as *1
-found thee, _ . .' * ‘ ~ ‘I
Deca‘y’d intby glory, and‘ sunk in thy. worth.‘
bh -I nowiforthe veteran hearts that were wasted
In strife, with the stojrrn, when’ their battles
_ were man‘, . i ' _ ,
Then the eagle, whose gaze in that mo‘rhen’t' was
blasted, - -, ~ , H .
Had still soar-’d with eyes fi’x’d on victory’s‘ sun !
‘F-n‘~ewe1i to‘thee,Fr‘ancc-—but \‘vl:e‘n libert'y- rallies
Once more in thy regi‘ons--refnber me then ;’
The violet that grows in the deptlrof thry vallies,
' Though‘ wi'ther’d ‘thy-tears will u‘nfold'it- again :
‘iiet, yet, I may bfaflie tlie hosts that surr'ound us,
Aind yet may thy heartleap awake to my voice ;
There are links which must break in the chain
I ' that has bound us, ,
Tlzen turn thee and call on the chief of thy
choicc. , .
i
———a._—._.—
"Miscella11y.-
.5locount Qf the escapo”qf'a .zlIeazicafi_f1~o'm' the
Inquisition prison, at Lisbon.
[co2<'1‘t.\'u1s.n.] I _
The -moment he awoke he again began to re-
volve the ideas which were ‘uppermost in his
mind,_ when one thought occurred to him’, which
exhibited the possibility of gaining access to the
-mansiorf of the Inquisition without giving any
rise. to suspicion.» He instantly rose, rneditated
the'par't-which he" was to play, and composed his
tlress; his'figure,;his méin‘, so a_s best to suit‘ the
character he assumed. At length, when he
-thought himself sufliiciently prepared todeceive
all observation b_v an apparent simplicity, and to-
answer every objection that mightbe made to
his declarations, he sallied forth and irepniretl to
the holy o-ilice. It wasabout, t_en__ o’c_lock in‘=the
morning. He begged to speak to the grand In-
’quisitor. The guards and attendants’ treated
him with rudeness. ‘His eminence is asleep.’
‘ _I .will wait then.’ ‘ So you may‘ wait!- On
deed, perhaps you belong to some master 15 5 Yes,
to Don Estevan.’ In a moment the crew was
changed ; they took him for an informer. ‘ En-
ter, my good friend, his eminence shall be’ appri-
‘ zed of your visit.’ ~ .-
A messenger was i’nstzt‘rjrtl}’i‘glespatched with
the intelligcflées and returned~b_ack almost.i‘nstant-
ly. “ ‘ His eminence,’ saidjthe'rn'essen'ger, ‘ is en-
gagediat present, but he’ hascommandedi his -sec- ‘
rotary the right reverend father Juan Mariti, of j
the .most illustrious order of Ste Dominic, to
give you an audience." They then conducted
him through a number. of nrzrgnificent apart-
ments, and brought him at length to tl'Ya*.'gof the
secretary, who was carelessly reclin‘ed'- .u'pon a
sofa, after having just finished his choco“l‘afe.-"—-
He was in_ the act ofsaluting a young‘ lady, con-
cerning whom we are not to imake many inqui-
ries. ‘ Go in peace,’ said he, ‘my dear sister, and
- sin no more;’ -a smile wasgi lier reply -as she left
the room. ‘ \Vell, my ‘son, you belong then to
this wretch Estevan 3 He is agreat sinner, is he
not ? He is a new Christi-.m,. his mother was a
Jewess, dont you say so ? Shall I write down
your deposition ? ‘ M-ost reverend and _illustri—’
Come my son, dont tremble so, take courage,
you are here in the very temple of.- justice and
mercy.’ I thought so whenl entered it, -most il-.
lustrious 3 Ah 1 Don Estevan, heisthe cause of
all my grief—-Consider, most reverend father,
how frequently in Mexico heipromised to. have
me baptized,but some business or_other always
interfered.’ ‘Tell of his itnpiety, my son, he is
if 1 1fiY>..g0.Od chi—ld,,go-on-.-’
_8ll“ni'll't*:iSt, txentocks at the sacraiitcltfss Well,
_ -' ‘ ,\V,ell reverend father,
~hc.px:_o_miscd to secure-.ine.this blessing in Europe,
-but-see, he has been arrested,, and Iain not bap-
- tizedé _a.n.d.if, by any misfortune Ysliouldfniow die,
*p00t‘:Zjaui__ox'a, would go directly into hell-“-"-"’ ,‘ 1_?o3
41¢-;11.1‘e'us.;'. My son, ‘emu will nofalloiv such ;,
tbing‘to'h'app,en 7;, 'b‘u't _\v’liat_was-Alie arrested for ?’
‘ lltnoiv riot most reverend father.-5' I suppose by
the v‘,;ovei-nrnent i but finding myself forsaken
..-and aliaridoned to myself, '1 in‘12tglned,th'at, as the
grand Inquisitor, and all , who surround him‘ are
saints, ,_none were so proper to extricate me from
the’. danger: in which -I stand." '» ‘.Gloria /zatrz‘ ct
./515.0.f£-S/1i7'z'lt1isancta:‘-- Yes, my dear son-, we will
rescue ypu from the claws of the devil. It is
God himself -who has be.en'your’couduct,or high.
~‘-‘I’--' ‘ Ah 1 good fathe_r,what joy, what happi-
ness for me !' thereare fifty pieces of gold, it is
the fruit of my labour, since my cliildliood, will
your -reverence -condescend to have: this money
employed in having masses said for;-,my salva-
l1_0D -7'-'. ‘ Fifty pieces ! sit wfomen Doniini ben-
edictum, ‘I-will instruct you,‘I will teach you your
catechism, I will be your sponser, with my niece
whom. you saw here just now, and l"trust that his
eminence the grand’ Inquisitor will condescendto
perform‘ the ceremony : but what business have
ypu at.-"present ?’~" None, I have no plac_e,I have
given your reverence all that I had_. but I had
rather fast than lose my salvation’ ‘ the harmless-
:ness of .the-dove ! VVell, I will attach you tothe
holy voffijce, it is theway of Heaven. _ What can
_Y0l.1 do 3’ ‘ I know a little of cooking and garden-
mg, I can shave well, besides, -I am active auda-
.l€.Ff- I_l1ave a quick eye, a ready ear, and an ex-
jcellcnt memory.’ 3 And discretion ?’ if I can an-
Swet‘ for that-‘—’ ‘ Excellent,’ replied the secre-
tar)’: ‘and rang a small bell which‘1ay.upo_n,.the
table. ‘ Major domo,’ said he to theman who
entered, and stood respectfully at thedoor, ‘ this
. - young negro is a catechumen whom his eminence
and I take under our special» protection ; I rec-
ommend him to you, you will employ him in
whatever he is found fit for," I entrust him to your
that he is well fed and well treated. Go,‘ and you
my son follow him, work, and pray that you may
not fall» into‘ temptation.’ The Major demo and
.Zflm0ra‘bent their knees in. subfnission, and his
reverence honoured ‘A them with his salutation,
Bmmdicat -uos omni/z_otc-ns Deus. ~ '
If Zamora hadpdared to give way to the feel—
ings of his soul, to what transports’ would henot
have yielded: but he ‘was obliged to confine them
3“ tl1ifl3'S{to apprise the Consul of his ‘success.
But for the ‘first days they might watch‘ his steps,
the powerful protection of :Father Juan Maria
had excited jealousy amongithe domestics of - the
house. It was necessary that he should deprive
-them of even the slightest pretext to -injure him.
He accordingly employed the first month in con-‘
cilliating the goodwill of every body around him.
He studied assiduously the catechism of Father
Juan‘, he anticipated his desires, be guessed at his
mi-efilioflsg and’ gratified even hissmallest wish-
es. VVhen presented by him to the grand In-
quisitor, he had been equally successful in re-
commending himself to that prelate ;withoutbe-
plug elated by this favour, antl witliout even boas.-'
_tir.g‘ of his credit among his inferiors, he-used_l_1is_j
utmost-iexertion -to -please them; he assisted
their labours, executed‘ their commissions, drank
with them, concealed or excused their errors, so
that in a short timehe became the object of uni-V
versal alfection "in the holy office. I - " . ~
-It was zabove-all,"to the alcaide and the guards
of the prisoners that he studied to recommend
himself.‘ 'l.'he"alcai(_le had “a, mistress of whom
he was jealous, and Zamora, by executing his
business "lg the house, enabled him to be absent
more frequently: The guards ‘were fatigued
with their duty, Zamora ‘watched for them, and
passed whole nights in their place. , He enter-
tained them with accounts of his travels and of
hisconntry, and sometimes a few bottles of wine
promoted..the hiliarity of the‘ evening. Stillall
this was very far from the object on which his
hcartwas set. Already, thanks to the‘ confidence
which he enjoyed, and to his reason, "he had got
access to the dungeons of more than fifty pris-
oners, but‘ without entering the only one which
he wished to behold.- How was h‘e to discover
— it ? Of .whom should he inquire ? The most in-
different. question mightoccasion his destruction.
However, ‘he went to visit his friend the consul,
who, delig‘ht'e’d at his success, supported his cour-
age, but was unable. to give‘ him anyhint of what
he wished to know. The fatigu'rn.g restraint of
~the part which he was -thus obliged to play for
for more than four months, and his cncreasingv
anxiety,;.unde_rmiued both his health and spirits,‘
and l_ie'would have probably sunkjbeneatli the
-.weight of his aliliction, hadnot Heaven come to
V his rel-iel’. _ V V. . _ \
(To be éontz'7zuerl.)’
‘ From (lie _Conn,(’ctz'cI_1t Coufan1.‘.~
’THE BRlEF REMARKER.
A great part ofthe ill we sufl‘c_:,r.might be avoi-
ded, if we would only learn to let -well alone. But
such is theplague of our hearts, relative to tem-
poral as well as higher matters, that weare sel-
dom or never quite contented with our lot, when
it is evenin nowise an unpleasant one, but must
~‘.< /z'a«w’ it about",’? still we mar and spoil what we
perversely endeavour to mend. ‘ I 4 ‘ '_ ’
,How often ‘is comeliness of face, of ‘features-,
and of personal form, disfigured» by alfectatiou,
which would fain make better what. God hath
made well. . . . _- '
How often do we lose our health by tampering
with it, in order to make it more healthy.‘ VVhen‘
we are well, we can’t be easy, and let 'ZU€[l—al0llCa
but must needs be meddling with the mechanism
while it is',going'_exactly right. A morning bit-
ter, orsome far-famed nostrum, how good it is to
prevent disease and preserve the health ! or rath-
er--not to speak ironically, but soberly-—how fre-
quently it destroys the stamina of sound constitu-
tions, introduces a train ofailments, and imma-
turely peoples the gravel A healthy body is diet-
. I
&
care, give him. a chamber to himself, and see.
within ‘his. ‘own heart. "He was anxious, above ,
-cdinto a_ cbhsuniption by -prying itiviih pl_:y'5ic_
instead _of food. _ _ . ' < 1- '__.: ‘
.An' Italian nobleman, whose fatalifdlliy it was‘,
riot‘ to let well alone, ordered; as a solemii warning
to others, the following linetb be ;engraved on his
tonibfl ‘I ms -z:'z:Il--I ivanted to be dimer"-o-ancl.
l1er_eIam." “ M . .7 _.
. Mark the cliildren that are gorged with dain-
ties, arid enticed to eat before they are liuiigry,
who, likeyoung chickens ‘in. an ,oven,'_a,re kept
for the slightest ailment ;’ rnairktlieir sl”pin'dle:legs,
their pale and sickly faces, the fe'eblen‘es’s (if their
wholc frame. _
hand, the broods that have experienced: none of
this queasy care _; Ln/hose food isplain, and but
_just enough to satisfy the cravings of nature;
whose beds~are.any thing else than dozzm’, and in
rooms through which the wind whistle ; who are
and wet : observeftheir freshness of -health, their
ruddy countenances, their musculous limbs, their
strengthand agility. ', _ ’ 1 «
Numerous, and-almost innumerab'le-, arethe in-
stances of well-conditioned rjnen.and families, who
are mourning over the ruin of their worldly ‘cir-
cumstance s._not by any direct providential stroke
of adversity, nor by ineans of conduct of their
own that was morally bad, but solely because they
did-notlet well alone. _ '. ’ '- .
. One ‘ sells the pasture to buy the horse.’ VVea-
ry of a plodding way oflifc and ‘slow gair'i's,-- he
barters away his fast estate for: goods; ~A”shiugle,
turn of the wheel of fortune, turns him to a bank-
rupt ; -and whereas he merely imagined himself
unhappy while holding the plough, he is now so
indeed. . _ . ‘ 1 V , '
.._Anothe'r,_”not content with being‘ a farmer men‘:-
Zy, hankers for the distinction of oflice. Luckily
for his feelings, but unfortunate for his circum-
stances, he obtains it. He neglects his farm, and
his farm neglects him.
and his income diminishes. Hejgoes behindhand
‘daily, and ere long, runs out. T oo late he sees
that he has exchanged solid pudding for empty
honour.— ._ i VI
A third, scorning to be outshone by his more
wealthy neighbour, tries hard to rival, him in
worldly show.
inherit as good flesh and blood ; his credit enables
_him to borrow; and genteelness of appearance
will put his family ‘on a’ level with the best. So
he goeth ; and ‘ his poverty cometh as an armed
man,’ , j ' ”
A fourth, though snug and comfortable at home,
broad. He has heard of the goodly lands which
yield astonishing abundance, and almost without
labour. He ' sells all he possesseth, and on he
goes at random. He arrives ; when, lo ! he finds,
even there, a full measure of the thorns and this-
ties of the curse,’ and peradventure, finds himself
cheated at last out of his all. ‘ A
Insober truth, there is in our nature such a
restlessness of disposition, that we commonly
make toourselves the full half of the ills we suf-
fer. There is a something more, which we are
ever in search of, and never, get at; and, in this
blind and restless chase, we poison the cup by our
endeavours to sweeten it.
Of all the morbid habits, that of being dissatis-
fied with even the comfortable condition of life
which Providence has placed us _in, is one of the
most unfortunate. With persons of this cast, it
makes no difference though their success in life
be never so great ; the same sickliness of heart
cleaves to them as a garment, even after their for-
tunes have never. so much exceeded their_expect-
ations. . ’ '
One of this sort, was the Prince Potemkin of
Russia. From a low family, he had beeniraised
to the greatest wealth. and.the highest dignities.
And his biographer, who was a familiar acquaint-
ance of that prince, observes of him as here fol-
lows :—-‘ He is melancholy in the midst of pleas-
ures ; unhappy from the excessof good fortune ;
"satiatcd with every thing.’
‘The great art, is the part of living; and the
chief science, is the science of ‘being happy.’——
‘When I sayjza/zlzy, I mean not uualloyed, or [zer-
jbct happiness, which can never be enjoyed here ;
but only such a measure ofit as our Maker hath
put in our-power. And in order to enjoy a-nd se-
cure that measure of happiness, the short rules
following are worth remembrance. I
Liveconstantly in the unshaken belief _ of the
overruling Providence of the infinitely wise and
good, as Almighty Being, and prize his favor a-
hove all things-.
Be it rather your ambition to acquit yourself
well in your proper station, than to rise above it.
Despise not small gains, nor risk what you pos-
sess upon the uncertain chance _of suddenly in-
creasing it. ' , _ - _
If you are in a comfortable way,Akecp In‘ It ;
and abide in your own«callin—g, rather than run
therisk of an untried one. ' l -
Finally, (comprising all in a single sentence.)
mind to “ use the world as not abusing it ;"--
and most probably you will find therein asmuch
comfort as is fitting for a frail and probationary
being, who is only joumeying through It toward ‘
animniortal abode.
-——-{QB-'/.1-€§3"""' .
T"/zc World.-—A very slight knowledge of the
world, is sul-li.t:ien't to ascertain there is a ‘ crook
in every lot,’ and that this world is not the abode
of unmingledenjoyment.
As long as people rest their claim tofjespect
upon the ground-of upright conduct and unblem-
ished virtue, they will not fail to meet with the at-
tention they deserve ; while the vain ambition of
being esteemed richer than we really are, is at
us to many mortifications.
_The human mind is originally an uusown field,
prepared for the reception of any crop; and if
those to whomithe culture of it belongs, neglect
to sow it with good grain, it will speedily be cor-
cred with tares- ‘ i
The first vice of women was curiosity, audit
pervades the whole 6€X- ‘ A '
frotncold and moi'stui'e, and "even f,ror'n‘_,tl1e,openj . ,
air, are (lrogged,.by‘ tray of prevention, as ivellgs
And now observe, on the other
always in thefreeair, andoften-' exposed to cold 1
His expenses increase, ‘
He is as good, and his children,‘
fancies he can do better, a great’ deal better, a- «
con'temptible~mea'nness, and will not fail to expose '
ii*At~;'rs—-so-ztlet easy one ......’.m.z.: t
it Virtue wants-“—.rz‘nc'e_re vbtaries; W.isdo_m--_,_
more earnest suppliarits ; and-'l‘—ruth—-rc-qt friends
and admirers. 1, ‘ , ' _ ~ ‘ '
¥ Purexarid undefiletlrR_e_ligion,’. Wvnilts-i-“—l_tL"88i .s-a}'Zz‘_
altiotgt the theory, and mo1*eZdo.nc‘ about the fzracticem
o I . . e
—an asylum.
Pl'i<1e.iV9aI1ts--’-to bekz'ck¢jd' our of company, and '
.,... ‘
"Humility 29:15-aducecz. ,. _ l j
3 EYSITY .0ld.'.\V<?!!i\aDAy_silly girl, or ofiicious young H
felljow, {who hearsj of..any aflgour, (or even of mi.»
wam'._;cmig/ritzy to beat tIi¢,zaoz;am.,.f it.
Every old bachelor,,(who_ has A. not somebody,"
z'ncog.). wants.:..‘.a u-{fa ,- a‘nd,ce‘very~gi‘rl in Arner-'
-‘-a husband. b -
. I I .7, I a ‘ ‘
_ Retz'rc’r>2en't:—'-Domestic comforts are the surest‘
- sources of happiness. It is in the privacy ofdo-1,
. mpestic retirement, that we feel_ind_ependeni of
"we; are exempt from the ifnpertinent ;intrusion1ot_’
people whom _we_despise, and have leisure tore-‘
trace every action of our past life. ' ’ ' -
: ._ ‘Mode:;-ty.-Modesty is the irra’diating,cbar_ni_-
iii domestic life-4'-and adds uncommon; loveliness ‘
to those who s‘hin'e in the most distiguished cir-'
cles. . , rl ,
.__.._ X
cry Bachelor an‘d}Old Maid-_—-tlze. ;g'rca,t,¢_-.3: of all
internal imjzrovemcnze. _ j ‘ j j __
,'I_'he expensiveness and extravagance to which
women have now arrived, multiply bac|;e]o;;s..~.._
old maids of course. ' ' - V
. Women who have several lovers, (likefwomcn
Ir: a mt-.rcer’s'shop distracted with the variety of-
_l;1;ll ivates) often choose the worst and reject the
' fnou TI1I_~1’ CATSKILL 1t2coxnié:‘rr'."'i
“ I will arise, and go to my Fat/zer.-". ’
. In this parable; our divine Master “ spake as
never man spake.” VVhere is there aconscien-'
tious son who has_long been separated from akind
father, and who has often rneditate(l,"dut‘ing a
painful absense, on his own former remissness in
filial affection and obedience, ' and who has ‘been
brought to a true sense of tliiiigs by_tl1e5pr'essui-e‘
of varied affliction ; whose heart will not feel the
tumultuous fervency which impelled the excla-
mationof the repentant prodigal--“ I -will arise,
amigo to ‘my father ?” ;j
Such ason, if on the eve of return, will be led
to see new beauties in this divine allegory, to ex-'
tend hisreflections to‘ its spiritual instructions,
and to embrace with a warmer heart that heaven-
ly -Friend and "Brother who delivered these-in-'
structions, witha breast so. full of benevolence
and commisseration, in languageso simple,-pa_-
lhetic, alluring and imitable : And such a son,--'
with a melting eye not only on his earthly but on
his heavenly parent,-——.will reiterate thewords of
the miseable "swineht-rd “ in a far country,”-—-“ I
-will arise and go to my Fat/zer .”’ ‘ «‘
Althoughsome have gone far greater lengths
in iniquity than others, all‘ of’ us have counted
subjection, to our kind Fat_l_'ier in heaven grievous,
have renounced his authority, and "with t-he pora.
tion. of good things which his bountyshowers
“ on the just and on‘ the unjust,” have wandered
far from him into the regions of sin, and have hi-
red ourselves to the great “ enemy of righteous-
ness.” We have submitted in heart" at least, to
the most degrading avocation, far more loath-
some to the sight" of our holy Father, than was-
-the feeding of “‘ unclean” swine in the viewcf
the cercmonious Israelites. . Thus we have be-
come poor indeed in spiritual treasures ; and are
in a perishing condition,‘ far from rigliteotfsness;
VVe are left to‘g‘o on, that at the grand court of
Heaven our mouths may be stopped‘ ;‘ or that in“
view of our wrctchedness we ‘may feel our ina-
bility to regain our squandered estate, and see
theinevitable (loath that awaits us ‘in our present’
career, and mayat length subdue the pride of our
hearts, and become animated with deep repent-
ance and ardent love ; and desiringbut alowly
servant's station, come to the heavenly resolution,
“ I will a1rise amigo to my Fatima” ,
Nor will the kind Parent of the universe dis-
own the returning prodigal. In the fullness of
his love and mercy he" will haste to mcet him,
and acknowledge him a son. He will take off his
defiled garments of sin, and clothe him in the
robe of the Redeemer’s, i‘igy,,yotisness. .1-Every
grace that can ornament thesoul shall be bestow-
ed npon him. The world, like the elder brother,
may vent their "envy and »malice. and argue their
self-righteouness; but this" _shall» not impede the
“ joy in lleavefr over one sinner that repenteth."
()’may the heart of some spiritual prodigal-"ex-
claim on perusing this hasty sketch--“'.I "evil! a-
rise and go to my Fix‘:/:er'.” ‘ j ’ ‘
B'r'z'r;/' Sc'rz'/mire Remarker.
5:5’? PAMPHLETS;
HANDBILLS, o.t1tn_s, TOWN—
ortnsits and nuances,-
‘ I
ill‘
I ll“;
llltl.
I./Ind almost one-ry_ description qf~
Book and Job
. ’ PRENTIJN G,
EJt7ectLied ‘with neatness and clegqizce,
at the ~0fi'ice of the
NORWALK GAZE'I"I‘E.
0000030: no 03:.‘
___._.
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-l' :\=
-7/7“
i ' L0”? --and Charity [waiit-'-.t0 be in bet-tc'r'cr.9c1ir.',
persons ofdifferent sexes .,bcingvi'seen together,)'. ’
the world .and all its futile concerns. ’g It is’herc' ‘
r irztcrizaz In2[z'ifove:nm,t._’..A, 1;'jg‘;;l°,_,_'°f;wJ .
Philanthropy ivants-if--a residcizce, sud. Fidelity .
ica,’ above fifteen‘, notalreatly providedjfor, wants 4
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Norwalk Chronicler