‘E I J“! “""’j.. _ -
‘ raost THE BOSTON clr.n'riui-21..
-.a1tTHU12 sit CLJIR.
Wash the giant man goes down, to the tomb of
’ ‘his fathers,
And death throws his pal! on the eye of the
' brave, _
The peoplevin sorrow. recline o’e'r his ashes,
"And brighten with tear drops the turf of his-
grave :
On the winds are red banners ;'_the hearse has
‘gone by .
That carried ST. CLAIR wlsere the dead war-
riors -lie.
His flag wav’d in honor on Jlfount Iridefzendence ,-
A In youtlrlie fought bravely opposing Jvlontcalm;
The chiefs of the wilderness knew of his valour,
And the-foeman at Trenton acknowledg’el his
arm.
He sunk like the sun, when he sets in a cloud ;.
More darkness was round him, than came from
- his shroud. '
A deservingfold warrior, he knew niucli of sor-
POW, : , ,
. But retii-’d from the world. in the fulness of
ears - * _ _
He fell like zfyellow leaf falling in autumn,
And his fall shall be honor’d with roses and
, tears; '
Though lifeless and wither’cl, there once was a
day , v _
VV hen his sword, like the lightning, fiash’d
instant dismay.
The host of brave soldiers who fought _for our
‘freedom, 7
Have mostly gone down to the cold silent
grave ; ‘
Their bodies to earth, and their spirits to heaven,
Is the‘ guerdon and end of the good and the
brave.
Ye heroes departed, the wild flowers fade,
But your memories shall live when your bones
are decay’d.
To (7atluzr'z'1ze—-—1’es, or No !
Tim "groves their vernal sweets hate lost, I
No blossoms now perfume the gale ;
The lawns are silver’d o’er with frost,
And autumn lingers on the vale.
But do the seasons, as they roll,
Affect the heart with joy or wo 3
Can autumn thus depress the sonl—-
()r spring elate it ?—-Yes, or No l
The grove again shall yield its shade,
And vernal sweets perfume the gale ;
The modest violet deck the glade,
And richest verdure clothe the vale.
Bttt will the {lower of hope survive, '
And gain frotn spring a brighter glow?
A smile, sweet» maid, would bid it thrive-—
\Vilt thou bestow it ?—-Yes, or No I
. _ ‘-1"
[The following good natured lines were received
by the Printer of a village newspaper, incloscd
in an article for publication]
Permit a giddy, trifling Girl,
For once, to ‘fill your poet’s corner ;
. She cares not how the critics snarl,
Or’ beau, or macaronies scorn her.
She. longs in print her lines to see,
Oblige her, (sure you can’: refuse 27,)
And if’ you find her out—your_/‘cc
Shall be-—'ro KISS HER l—if you choose it.
Miscellaiiy.
FROM THE VILLAGE RECORD.
THE SPl:‘.CULA'l‘0R——-isy JOHN HARWOOD.
‘ Miserable man that Iam l’ sighed Jo-
tham, as he sat at the door, at the going down of
the sun—rniserable man that I am :’
‘VVhat ails thee, friend?’ said a person who
stood near him, although before unperceived._.
4. Hast thou not health ? Hast thou not friends?
Host thou not plenty ? Thou hast sheep feeding
on the -hills, thy numerous herds graze in the
valley,and thy grain fields teem with abundance."
‘ True’ answered Jotham. ‘ but the shortness
and uncertainty of human life, are to me sources
of constant wretchedness. I know not what hour
I may be called to leave all these blessings. A
few live to the good old age of four score years,
but how few 1 They, to be sure, are blessed, but
I have no assurance that I shall live again to see
my orchards in blossom, and to hear the bleating
of my early" lambs. I am miserable.’
‘ And dost thou think it would contribute to
thy happiness, to have removed the uncertainty
of thy exit fromtliis life, and to receive the as
surance, that thou shouldst live to the age of four
score and ten years 1’ ~
‘ Undoubtedly,’ said Jotham ; ‘ I could then
proceed on my course with a light heart, I could
plan my business for future years. I could plant
orchards with the certainty of enjoying the fruit
--1 could—‘ Enough,’ said his guest, interrupt-
ing him-—‘ Thy desire shall be gratified. I am
the spirit that presides over thy years, and am
comrnissioned topfix the date of thy existence,
Thou shalt have until the 5th of the 5th month
in the year that thou shalt have numbered four
score and ten, and in that day, at the going down
of the sun, thou shalt die.’
Jothamraised his eyes, and the person had
disappeared, but he felt the full consciousness of
the truth of what he had declared, and resolved
to be happy. A thousand plans for amassing
wealth—-improving his‘ grounds--planting or-
chards and forest trees--builrling houses’ and
mills, for a while crowded- upon his imagination ;
but ever and anon, t_he 5th of the 5th month of
_ the year that he should be 90, occurred with re.
newed uneasiness to his mind. It was too far
off to be worth thinking of, and yet would it re-
turn uncalled for with the most alarming acute-
ness‘. Jotham was then 37, and he took a state
and pencil to calculate. He find 53 years to live.
He reduced the time to months—-to weeks—-
to days--hours and even minutes.
Vlshq
was fixed in his mind as certainly as in the r'edy
ords of fate} He looked ‘at; his watch. Three
hours had atre’a‘d'y elapsed-—wlien his family no-
tified him that it was later than usual for him to
retire. The sleep of Jotham was disturbed, and
the first thought of the morning was the _5th of
the 5th rnonth, at the setting of the_sun, in the
year 1875. But he resolved to put in execution
the plans he had formed. Some difficulties in-
tervened. but as he had time enough, be post-
poned from day to day the commencement of
his impro','ements.
A thousand new troubles now crowded on his
mind. He was certain of life, but not of health.
His days might drag on heavily. in pain and dis-
ease. He was not sure that his plans“ for amas-
sing money would succeed. He might become
apaoper. Insteadiof stimulating his exertions,
he found that the certainty of long life relaxed
them. In the midst of business and pleasure,
the day certainly fixed for his death, would come
like a dark cloud overshadowing his soul, paraly-
zing his exertions, and damping his joys. He
felt it like the iron belt’ of the Scottish James
who fell at F loddenfield ; and from the very cir-
cumstance he expected to prove the source of
happiness, he derived nothing but uneasiness,
and finally themost unccasing misery.
A year had passed away, when at the same
hour of the same night, Jotham sat _at his porch,
his beard ‘long. his face pale, and his whole body
emaciated—‘ miserable man that I am l’ exclaim-
ed he. ‘ The day of my death is fixed. The
time is ascertained with awful certainty. I am
like a criminal under condemnation, and I feel
-that the distance of time is only an aggravation
by procrastinating my misery--Vitrnltl to Ood
that my guardian angel would return and restore
me to the state of other men.’-
‘ Thy wish shall be granted,’ answered the
same person whom he had seen the year ‘o«.-fore.
* But my friend,’ added he, ‘let this learn thee
to repress thy passions-—liinit thy desires--ex-
ercise that thou mayest enjoy rest ;—-be temper-
ate that thou mayest possess health ;-—cherish a
cheerful reliance upon heaven, and obey the dic-
tates of an enlightened conscience, and thou wilt
enjoy a happiness which neither the ‘certainty of
great possession, nor long life could ever be-
stow.’ ‘
-—-¢.—‘.i:--it-—-—
FROM THE RICHMOND COMPILER.
Avzot/zer Scra/2 of Biogrojt/2y.—-Some years
since, an Englislinian left his native country,
young and unprotected, but blessed with spirits
and enterprize. He reached the United States,
the asylum of the stranger, and the home of the
liomeicss. The moment he touched our shores,
he mixed with the busy mass of our active pop-
ulalinti. in the obscure shades of private life.
But events were silently working to bring hitn
back to his native country, in a very different
situation from that in which he left it. Several
years after his departure, a letter was addressed
to a respectable mercantile house in Philadel-
phia. stating that the last incumbent of avliritish
peerage was dead ; that the next heir was miss-
ing, but had been traced to avoy-age to America,
and be-seething that no exertions might be spa-
red to seek out the man on whom an Earldom
and an Estate had thus unexpectedly fallen.-
The liouse in Philadelphia accordingly made the
most anxious enquiry after this obscure stranger;
advertisements were put in the newspapers, sta-
ting his name. and requesting him to call at their
house. where he might hear of something to
his advantage. The investigation was fruitless;
no trace of the stranger could be found 5 no clue
todirect them in their enquiry. So much time
had elapsed, without producing any light upon
his destiny, that they came to the conclusion that
he was dead.
It was not so*—fortone in one of her freaks did
more in one minute than the researches of years
had been able to effect. One day, one of the
partners of the house, passing along the street,
called at the market to "purchase a piece of meat.
Having suited himself to his taste, he was in the
act of paying "for his purchase, when a third per-
son stepped up and addressed the butcher by
name. VVhat was the merchant’s astonishment
to hear him called by theiiatne of the person
whom he had so anxiously sought. He prudent-
ly concealed, however, his surprise, and after ma-
king some enquiries, returned home : recurred
to the documents in his possession, andsatisfied
himself of the identity of the person. _
lV.Iost personsin his situation would'have'flown
to the stranger. broke the matter to him abrupt-
ly. and ‘turned his headby the dazzling informa-
tion. Not so the merchant! he was ‘a man of
prudence and disc'retion.—He was aware of the
intoxicating ‘eifectsiof rapid elevation upon a
brain not prepared for it ; determined while he
communicated the extraordinary dispensation of
Providence, to do it in such a way as would make
it a real blessing to the stranger. He according-
lykept. his own counsel; cultivated an acquaint-
ance with the butcher, introduced him into a new
line of business, which compelled him to min—
gle with men of much greater information than
he had been accustomed to—drew him to‘ his own
house, and took every pains to introduce him
gradually into the most respectable and genteel
society. At every new step of his elevation, the
manners of his protege became more andmore
polished--and his information more expanded.-—
-At length, when he thought his friend was suffi-
ciently prepared for the strange event he had to
announce, he imparted to him the unexpected
change which fortune had wrought inihis desti-
ny. Conceive his astonishment, his wonder I
What, to be raised, as it were, from the sham-
bles__to an Earldom and a princely estate '
much was he indebted to the discretion 0 L; _
friend for the seasoning‘ he had received; and
for the modesty with which he bore the change 3
Reluctant at first to encounter such a revoluton
of fortune, he almost wished to decline it 1--but
at length, he deterininetl to return to Great Brit-
ain, and assume the mantle which the laws of the
empire had thrown over his shoulders. And
thus a Philadelphia Butcher is now convetjtedin-
I .
to’ a British Peer, an Ear] with an immense es-
tate,’and a" member of the House of Parliament.
To his honor be it reported, that hevbears his
prosperity with the utmost moderation. His
head is not turned by his elevation, as is too fre-
quently the condition of the new nobility of Eng-
land. He is modest and unassuming-‘-‘seeks
the society of Americans, and speaks of the
country in terms of ‘respect and gratitude.
Is this, again, you will ask, _/imcyi or is it fact .?
Is it borrowed from Romance,_ or‘from real life ?
You will scarcely conceive it is the last; but
such is believed to be the substance of a story,
whose theatre was Philadelphia, and whose hero
is now a British Peer. N ARRAT OR.
....- _,',H___
rnou '1iit1tiviti.ii~i’s MEMOIRS.
My library afforded me the means of improve-
ment by constant study, for which I set apart an
hour or two each day ; and thus repaired, in some
degree, the loss of the learned education my fa-
tl. once intended for -me. Reading was the on-
ly amusement I allowed myself. I spent no
time in taverns, games, or frolics of any kind ;
and my industry in my business continued as.in-
defatigable as it was necessary. I was indebted
for my printing house; I had a young family
coming on to be educated ; and I had two com-
petitors to contend with for business, who were
established in the place before me. My circum-
stances, however, grew daily easier.’ My origin-
al habits of frugality increasing, and my father
having among his instructions to me, when a boy,
frequently repeated a Proverb of Solomon-
“ Seest thou a« man diligent in his calling, he s/tall
cf ore Kings,‘ Ire shall not standibrgfare mean
thence considered industry as a means
cg wealth and distinction, which en-
e,g.g-tire"; though I did not think that I
giver literally stand before kings, which,
however,"=has since happened; for I have stood
before five, and even had the honor of sitting
down with one (the King of Denmark) to din-
ner.
I
Original Anecdote of Franklin.-—In the news-'
paper which Franklin established soon after he
domiciliated himself in Philadelphia. he once.
took occasion to animadvert, with much freedom,‘
upon the conduct of an old and respectable inhab-
itant of that city, whose public course did not ac-
cord with his viewsfof propriety. The attack
produced a strong sensation among the friends of
the gentleman in question, some of whom pro-
posed that an interview should be had with Frank-
lin, in order to admonish the young adventurer
in regard to what they deemed an improper lib--
erty. Franklin rea y acceded to the proposal,’
and accordingly requested several of his patrons
to sup with him on a particular evening. They
waited upon him at the time appointed ; and of
the guests, the names of Hugh Roberts, Philip.
Sing, Luke Morris and John Biddle are recol-ij
lected. -
Previously to being called to supper, they en- ‘
tered into friendly conversation with him on the
object of their visit. They were presently in-.7
troduced into an adjoining room, in which a ta-
bit: was spread, covered‘ with a coarse cloth, at
one end of wliichstood a large stone pitcher fil-
led with water; at the other, a huge pudding;
and beside each plate a penny earthernware cup.
Franklin pressed his friends to be seated, and pro-
ceeded to help each of them to a slice of the pud-
ding, with every appearance of earnest hospital-
ity. Having served them all, and desired them
to fill their cups with water and be joval, be him-
self began to eat heartily. His guests tasted,
and tasted again, but could not swallow the pod-
ding. Franklin observing this, begged them to
be assured that another pudding would soon be
served up. No one, however, except‘ himself,
could eat, and they sat looking at each other
with an expression of lively surprise. Franklin
then rose from his chair and said—.“ This is a saw
dust /zuddz'ng—I can eat it, though you cannot--
and he who can subsist on saw-dust pudding and
water, needs the patronage of no man.” They
all laughed and parted good friends.
[:./Imzlectic Jlfagazin c.
_._.
Singular ./Imusement of the Algerirzes.
The natives frequently amuse themselves by
a curious kind of ‘warfare, which is created by
shutting up a scorpion and a rat together in a
close cage when a terrible contest ensues.--—-This
has been seen to continue sometimesfor above
an hour ; it generally ends by the death of the
scorpion ; but in ‘a little time after, the rat be-
gins to swell, ‘and, in violent convulsions, soon
shares the fate of its vanquished enemy. It is
also a favorite diversion with the‘Moors, to sur-
round one of these reptiles with a circle of straw,
to which fire is applied-‘—after-making several at-
tempts to pass the flames. it turns on itself and
thus becomes its own executioner.
This very singular fact is finely alluded to by
Lord Byron, in his Giaour. -
:fQ}—'Q
1l"1'etlzo'd qfnzal-z'ng Lea!/ier imfzcrvious to !'Vcter.
- The New-England fishermen preserve their
boots tight against water by .the following meth-
od, which, it is said, has been in use among them
above an hundred years. A pint of boiled lin-
seed’-oil, half a pound of mutton suet, six ounces
of clean bees wax, and four ounces of rosin, are
melted and well mixed over afire. Ofthis, while
warm, (not so hot as to burn the leatht-r,) with a
brush, lay plentifully on new boots or shoes,
when they are quite dry and clean, The leather
is left pliant. Fishermen stand in their boots,
in water, hour after hour, without inconvenience.
For three years past, all my shoes, even of calf-
skin, have been so served; and have in no in-
stance, admitted water to pass through the leath-
er. It is also a good salve. A BACILICON.
____j-;§'ej*'—"'
Beauty loses its efficacy when it is unsupport-
ed by mental charms. We sometimes are as-
tonished that fine women make so few conquests.
The reason is, that the fickleness of their man-
ners dissipates the charms of their beauty, and,
O
7 To aitaih wesith,is to open new inletsof temp.
tation, and multiply the sources of disappoint.-
ment. Why should the flower of life be pros.
tituted to acquire that, which a thousand-acci-
dents»coiis'pire to prevent us from obtaiping, and
which obtained,a thoiisand more to deprive us of ?
He who, present or absent, thinks and‘ says
the same of his friend and enemy--is more than
honest-more than man--he is a hero.
Good men generally reap more substantial
benefit from afiiictions, that bad men do from
their prosperities.
. __VVe are most like God, when we are as will-
ing to forgive as powerful to punish : and ad-
mirable is his virtue and praise, who hasiogcause
and power to hurt, yet will not.
Nature bids me love myself and hate all that
hurt me ; reason bids me love my friend, and “
hate all that envy me ; religion bids me love all,
and hate none, and overcome evil with good-.
Fortune.—-Tlie colour of our whole life is gen.-
erally such as‘ the three «or four first years in
which we are our own masters, make it. Then
it is we maybe said to shape our owndestiny,
and to treasure up for ourselves a seriescf fu-
ture successes and disappointments.
The world is tired of truth ; it is so plain, so
obvious, so simple, and so old, it- gives no pleas-
UFGE.‘
' ———-Q-:1:-®®->1:-Q-———
FROM THE BOSTON vaivrii-:5.’
Fa titer forgrue them.
It is a peculiar excellence of the Christian rei-
ligion, that it teaches the forgiveness ofinjuties,
instead of indulging" in the baneful spirit of re-
venge. How amiable does that man appear, who
pursues not his enemy with vindictive malice,
"but rather seeks to convince him of his error--
forgives the wrongs inflicted on himself, aind
\
them also.
The lesson taught by our Saviour, when about
to make atonement for the sins of the world, is a-
mong the most important of his precepts. He
was crowned with thorns ; he was buffeted and
spit upon-'-he was about to suffer the shameful
and ignominions death of the cross ;--but when
reviled he reviled not again. No—-he pitied
them, ‘ forthey knew not what they did,’ and
raising his eyes meekly to heaven, implored his
Father to forgive them .’
Christian--‘shall this lesson be invain ? VV lien
persecuted by your enemies, will you manifest
the spirit -of_the children of disobedience, and
return evil for evil 3 Rather show them by your
conduct, that though the frailty of human nature
would prompt to a difi'erent course, yet your re-
ligion teaches you that it is better, far better, to
suffer than to commit wrong. Go, then—imi-
‘ tate the great pattern of Truth and Mercy, and
when thou layest thy head on thy pillow, if thou
canst say from thy soul, I lza-ue fiirgiven mine en-
emy, sweet shall be thy slumber, and verily thou
shalt have thy reward.
One should have imagined that the gospel 0
Jesus would have had no enemies. It breathes
only peace—-Its object is to promote the felicity
of mankind. It sweeten: every connexion of
human life. It strengthens the cause of phi-
lanthropy. The only favor it entreats is, that
men would love themselves with suitable affec-
tion, and wliile it pours a thousand blessings up-
on the present transicnt existence, and lightens
all the trials of the way, it shows wretched err-
ing man, the ‘ path of life.’ And yet every
man's hand, whose heart is not renewed by di-
vine graoe, is lifted up against it 5
. Notice.
- HE Post-Rider on the Western and North-
ern Route, through New-Canaan, Slam-t
ford, Horse-neck, Stanwich, Poundrigde, South
consideration thevtime appointed for Solemnitg,
has thought proper to disannul so much of the
aforesaid Proclamation, as respects those who‘
have already paid their Quarteragc ; and as much
as refers to those who shall hereafter pay at this
notice ; but otherwise, said Law is to remain and"
be in full force, until the old Book is discharged
from custody, which he hopes will be soon,_as he
already views it with an evil eye ,v that is, espe--
cially those pages that are not marked with the
letter X and P.--—-His subscribers are respectJ
fully informed that he wishes a general settle- ‘
ment up tothe first of October, and that he will‘
discontinue carrying one week, for the purpose *
ofcollecting. and those who settle their accounts
will be entitled to one No. gratis, in case they con-'
tinne their papers. He would also remind them
that he has not disposed of all the
Immense Forwumes
sell, at the usual price, Tickets in if-"as-lzzngzc7z
Bridge Lottery, which has already commenced
drawing. JOHN‘ ST1€£i.E'1‘, Jr.
Norwalk, Nov._ 3. _ 27
PAMPHLETS,
- HANDBILLS, CARDS, TOWN-
ORDERS and RECGRDS,
find almost every <lescri.p,tion qf
I Book and Job .
PRINTING, .
Exgc,,tg,l -with ncotness and elegance, : ____,__
at the Ofiice of the ,
ooovoc
l
I. 1..
. 11J'llJ.lJl,itl.'-‘lit!
W ' I
ll"
3
[in spite of their graces, creates disgust.
prays his Father who is in heaven to forgive ~
!~
and North-Salem, and Ridgcbury, taking into (6
which he offered for sale. He still continues t'_o,__‘
ll“
NORWALK GAZETTE. .
V
c.
J
1
. i
Norwalk Chronicler