FROM THE GERMAN.
I’Vri:Ien afier the Cam/zaign of 1813.
5.’) sweet flows the current by town and by tower,
The green sunny vale and the dark linden bow-
er ; [plain,
The waves as they dimple, smile back on the
And Rhine, dearest river, thou art German again.
The roses smell sweeter, the air is more free,
More lively the song of the bird on the tree a...
The yoke of the mighty is broken in twain ; _
And R/zine, dearest river, thou art German again.
Thy land is at peace, and breaks forth into song,
Thy hills in their bosom the cadence prolong,_
Thy sons in their chanting re-echo the strain--
Our Rliine, our own river, is German again :
Thy daughters, sweet river, thy daugliters so fair,
I/Vith their eyes of soft azure, and brhght sunny
hair, .
Repeat mid their dances, at eve on the plain——-
Our Rhine, our own river, is German again l
.
mom THE PHILADELPHIA UNION.
Life, Death, and Rcsurrcction.
Life is a flower of beauteous hue,
That buds and blooms but to decay ;
Or like the drops of early dew:
That sptirkie, please, then flee away.
Yet ’tis a gift in goodness given—-
A precious gem to man bel0,w ;
To fit him for an endless lieav ii,
That blest retreat from pain and W0-
A.
Still we lament from youth to age,
From dear lov’d friends at last to part,
Our sorrows swell th -‘ .' « ll P336:
That bears the rev-~“' : heart.
Yet from the tomb ‘ Shall rise.
‘Nlien the last l'.l".- '. M Jtl Sllflll S0lm(la
To call the nations 2, ' » .ies,
neatli the ground.
-
From their loin: _
Q ¢lIl'--.'.'i:,>'w. ~~.'
H.E.N'.&i r 101) VIL1§i«}.
A TE» 3.’.--*5 MRS. 0I’IEa
[CONTINU1-1D.]
Mrs. Evaxs had not given Henry the sliglit-
est hint that the poor man was dclirous; but he
made use of the best means the circumstances
afforded to restore him, and they were soon cf-
factual.
\Vben recollection was completely restorcd,he
started up and looked wistfully at Henry; and
iinding how kindly he was supporting his burn-
ing bead, and wat.ching liis-wan countenance, he
exclaimed, ‘I cannot hear it l’ and pushing off
Henry's arm, he sunk down and hid his face in
the bed clothes : but instantly after, starting up
again, he desired to know how long Henry had
been at Mrs. Evan's, how long he meant to stay,
and why he came there at all ?
To such questions, from a man in health. Hen»
ry would not have thought it necessary to give
an answer ; but not wishing to increase the irri-
tation uf the sufferer, he mildly said, that he had
been at Mrs. Evan’s three months ; that he came
for the sake of being out of the world, and that
his stay was uncertain.
‘While Henry said this, he was mixing a com-
posingtiraiigl‘it, which, when he had done speak-
ing, he offered to the poor man’s lips, telling him
it would do him good. But he pushed it away
from him, and bursting into a sort of hysterical
flood of tears, he exclaimed, ‘ No, no 1 not from
1,'oii--I will not take it from you—it would choke
int i’
‘ That is unfortunate,’ replied Henry,‘as Mrs.
Evans will not be able to sceyou perhaps for ma.
ny days, and the surgeon is ill: therefore, if you
are afraid of taking a medicine from me, I can do
you no good, and had better not come again.’
‘Not come again! Oh I not come again ! for
mercy’s sake, come every day ; the sight of you
will do me more good than any pliysic.’
‘ That’s nonsense.’ _
t No, no, no 1 it is not nonsense :.and'I conjure
you,’ he added, if you have any pity inyou, to
let me see you every day; and then, I will even
take poison to please y.ou.—Promise me you will
come every day-’
‘ I cannot; it is too much to ask of me : but I
will see you every other day.’
‘ And let me hear from you when I don’t see
you.’
‘ Perhaps so.’ A .
1 God bless you ! God bless you I And he wnl
bless you ;--it is me, me alone whom he will
curse and pursue with his vengeance 5’
Here he really howled with agony; and Hen-
ry feared that though this unhappy patient was
insane, that insanity proceeded from a burtheiied
conscience. Still he recollected that even the
good in a state of derangement accuse them-
selves of crimes which they are incapable ofc_;om-
milling ; he therefore siipprcssetldiis suspicion
as unjust, and tried to sooth the mind of the suf-
ferer by dwelling on the mercy of the Being
whom he feared. _
But the more he tried to calm him, the more
violent he became ; all he said was—--‘ I cannot
bear it l-—don’t talk so kindly l-—don’t, I cannot
bear it l’--Then suddenly seizing Henry's arm,
he said, sDo not come any more at this time of
day-—comc in the dark hour;—-come in the dark
liour—I cannot hear that you should come in the
day light 1’ _
‘ I must come when suits me best,’ replied
Henry. ‘ But now I must go--so t;.ike the drought,
or never expect to see me again. . .
The poor wretch then eagerly seized it, and
drank it off; and as it was a strong aiiodyne. Hen-
ry knew the effect would not belong in showing
itself; he therefore waited to witness it, and had
soon the satisfaction of seeing the agitation of the
patient subside ; and when Henrydcft the place,
he seemed scarcely conscious of his departure.
There is certainly no passion which so wholly
annihilatcs attention to every thing else as the
passion of
love. ‘ Had Henry not been under its
influence, he would undoubtedly have seen some-
thing uncommon in the manner of this man when
he saw him, and the questions he asked him, and
in the words which he addressed to him. But so
completely were all ‘the business and all the in-
terest of life now comprised to Henry in making
drawings for Anna to copy—-in reading books, in
order to select passages to show her--in watch-
ing for the hour when he was to be permitted to
see or to walk with her-—in recollectipg, when he
left her, all she said, and all she looked-——-th'r1l he
inscnsibly forgot the sword of the law was sus-
pended over his head ; and also that he was sen-
tenced to die, and might yet die, for a crime
which another (as yet undiscovered) had commit-
ted. Nay-—what, if he had considered the sub-
jecta would appear still more unaccountable to
himself, he was now reconciled to what at first ap-
peared a terrible hardship to liim--separa'.ion
from his family and friends, and no intercourse
with them by letter, save ‘All well,’ written in the
inside of a parcel of books and other things which
Mr. Courtnay sent every three months ; and
sometimes a cold guarded letter, which lie trttstcd
by the post, in which occasionally a few cautious
lines were written by his father’s hand. So prop-
erly careful were they, lest they should give any
clue to discover Henry’s retreat, as Bradford and
his son had solemnly sworn they would never rest
till they had discovered him. A
It would have been a great comfort to Henry
VVoodville’s family and friends, to know that he
had found in the joys of a first and still lnCl'C£1Sll'lg
attachment, oblivion for every care, and a sun-
shine for every prospect ; and that even separa-
tion from them had ceased to be a misery.
\Vhen Henry saw Mrs. Evans again, he told
her that he wondered she had not informed him
that he was going to visit a madman, or at least a
man in a deleriuin.
‘ Dear me 1’ she replied, ‘the poor‘ soul is no
more mad than I am; to the best of my belief,
he is only a poor moped sinner.’
‘ lie is more like a raving lunatic,’ said Henry,
‘and as suspicious as those persons generally are ;
for he was afraid to take medicine from me, and
asked me many questions of who I was, and why
I came ; and then, strange to say, he insisted on
my coming to see him every day, but not to come
till (l‘.ll'l{.’
* Well, I can only say he was not mad when I
saw him,’ replied the good woman 5 and the con.
versation dropped.
The next day Henry was too much engaged
even to think of his poor patient, ashe was to
spend the morning at Mrs. Evans’s, in looking
over both Anna and her mother, who had lately
wisely chosen to take lessons herself, while they
copied some sketches of his from the Wye, which
they wished to take away withthem ; and after
(lining with them, he was to accompany them to
the beautiful walks about Pieicefield, which, at
that time ofday, could boast little except the beau.-
ties of nature.
It was late when they came in sight of their
own habitation. But before they reached -it, 7..
wretched looking being suddenly started up from
the grass along which he had thrown himself, and
running up to Henry, said, ‘ VVl.iy have you tjtpr
been to see me ? and if you could not come, why
'<li‘d you not send ? lhave been so wretched ; and
Goody Evans said she did notknow where you
were gone. But nowl see you, and I am -so
glad I’ :-
‘My good man,’ cried Henry kindly, (w".iiie
the ladies listened with a mixture of fear and pity
to the wild wan being before them,-) ‘I could not
come to you, and I forgot to send: but do go
home now the air is growing chill, and I really
will see you to-morrow.’
‘Av, to-morrow evening, he replied; ‘andl
shall expect you.’ _
So saying he walked away with irregular and
uncertain steps; leaving Mrs. Vincent and Anna
convinced, as well as Henry, of his derangemenr.
And Anna could not help saying she thought he
ought to be careful how be trusted himsclfalone
with him.
The next evening, before he took his accus-
tomed walk, (which always ended in meeting the
ladies on the banks, if he was not invited to walk
with them,) Henry went to visit the invalid.
‘ So you are come, are you ?’ said he : ‘ Thank
God I’
‘ Yes, replied Henry, full of pity for the forlorn
state of the being before him, who was left with-‘
out any attendant but a niece, a child twelve years
old: ‘ Yes, I am come : and I hope to make your
condition more comfortable, if money can do it,
and what money can purchase. See, I have bi'o’t
yoti a pillow,’ said he, takinga basket from a lit-
tle boy who followed him: ‘ and here are some
provisions for you ; and as your fever makes you
chilly I see at times, I have ordered you some
coals. And . . . .’
the violent emotion of the wretched man, ex-,3
pressed by convulsive sobs, by the clenching of
his bony lists. and by every outward and visil:-le
sign of a soul in agony.
* Leave me 1 leave me 1’ he at length exclaim-
ed ; ‘ I cannot bear it-——Pray go——I am unworthy
such goodness——I’ray go I for inercy’s sake, go!
But be sure to let‘ me see you to-morrow, and ev-
ery day, or I shall go distracted.’
Henry at first hesitated what to do. But he re-
peated his prayers for his absence so urgently,
that at length be complied ; after having put the
pillow under the poor man’s head, who, as he
did so, caught his hand suddenly to his lips, and
then motioned him to the door. .
Henry could not go to him the next day ; but
he senta message to know how he did ; and the
answer was, ‘ All the better for the message.’
The next time and several times after that
when he visited him, Henry found him quite
composed, though evidently depressed; and by
the questions which he now put to him he was
convinced that his conscience was really burthen-
ed by some serious offence ; and he urged him to
send for the minister of the parish to pray with
him,atid give him that spiritual consolation which
he seemed desirous of.
‘ No, no ; the minister,’ he replied, ‘ is too
Here Henry was forced to stop speaking, by .
One word of kindness from you, does me more
good than he could do me. And when you read
the bible to me, and show me that the penitent
sinner may be saved, why then I feel comforted,
and then I think lcould do any thing to save. . .’
Here h"c-again fell into a violent agony of=ieai's,
werc—-= Pra ', let me never be a day without sce-
ing or litzaring from youil’
Henry would not promise to comply with this
request. But so natural is it to the benevolent
to "enjoy the power 6f comforting the wretched
being who hangs on them for comfort, that no
promise could have bound Henry more strongly
to a daily visit to the sick man’s lint, than the
consciousness hisipresence spoke peace to the
soul of the sinner; nor did a day pass without
his performance of all the duties of christian
charity to this miserable and forlorn being.
During one of his visits he found a very un-
welcome witness of his kindness, for the aban-
doned wife of the poor man was returned, and in-
Henry’s presence, cursed him for a cowardly,
canting, snivelling, scoundrel. Nor did I-ienry’s
presence seem any restraint on her, for she was
fortified by liquor against fear of any one. At
the next visit she was even more disggusting to
him ; for as he came at an earlier hour, and the
setting sun shone brightly on his countenance,
the woman, more intoxicated than before, met
him at the door,‘and exclaiming, ‘ Bless your line
face 1’ threw her arms round him, and attempt-
ed to kiss him.
VVith disgust and abhorrence too strong to be
concealed Henry threw the offender from him,
who staggered up the valley, muttering curses
on him. ,
The husband who had witnessed this scene,
now broke into self-congratulations that the drun-
ken creature was gone to Cliepstow, and would
not return in a day or two. She returned howev.
er, the day after, and was present when Mrs. E-
vans sent for I-lenry, to exert his influence over
his poor charge. She had gone to visit him,
with the surgeon, who was now able to attend ;
and he had insisted on bleeding him. But the
man would not consent, declaring he hated the
sight of blood—tliat he had seen enoughof it :—
and he raved so violently that Mrs. Evans wished
to try what effect Henry's presence would have
on him. Accordingly she sent for him, and he
came. But neither his soothing and entrcaties,
nor the wife’s execrations, could prevail on the
refractory patient :--he declared that the sight
of the blood would kill him, and the point was
given up.
Henry meanwhile could not help remarking
the attention with which the sufferer’s wife re-
garded liim, turning aside while she did so, to
look at something which she held in her hand,
and looking at him with an expression of great
nialignity.
The next evening Henry was to accompany
M.:'s.Vincent and her daughter in a walk along
the river; and as Anna meant to gather some
flowers, intending to paint them, she had brought
an old newspaper to wrap them up in.
As she was unfolding it, assisted by Henry,
who luckily for him stood with his back to the
light, which was now growing fainter and fainter,
his own name caught his eye ; and he saw that-
it was a detail of his escape.
Anna saw it too, and exclaimed, ‘ O dear ! I am
sorry I brought this paper, for I meant to keep
it. It is that which contains the account of that
poor young man Henry VVoodvillc’s escape from
prison.’
‘ Does it ?’ replied Mrs. Vincent ; ‘ Ay, I re-
member what a great interest you always took in
that person—for you never believed him guilty.’
‘ No, nor ever can,’ said Anna eagerly. _
I-Ienry’s band now shook so violently, that he
dropped the paper with the flowers which he was
holding for Anna ; and this accident not only gave
him an excuse for stooping down to pick them
up again ; but, as he felt himself excessively faint,
the attitude of stooping accounted for his being
forced to lie down to recover, as he said, the gid-
diness that seized him.
‘ That proceeds from stooping so long and so
low, after a hot and fatiguing walk, 1‘-‘Ir. Gran-
ville,’ said Mrs. Vinccnt kindly; ‘when we get
home, I shall insist on prescribing some wine for
you.’
‘Anna said nothing ; but her check was as pale
as Henry’s, who now, however, recovered suffi-
ciently to proceed on their return.
(To be continued.)
-——I::--:1‘.--nu-———
Singular Cz'rcumstance.--The indiscretion of
persons who are possessed of any property, not
being prepared against accident, by the making
of a will whilst health and reason remain to them,
has been remarkably shown in the case ofMr. IV.
whose death by. a fall from his horse was. lately
noticed in our paper. To the great surprise and
chagrin of his widow and family, a claimant to his
property has sprung up, in the person of ayoung
woman who was in service at the house of a pro-
fessional gentleman at Grantham; and it turns
out that this young woman is indeed the sole heir
to all that Mr. VV. had died possessed of, although,
until she made her claim, the family had never
heard of such a person. The deceased, it seems,
was in early life, from the consequence _of an. in-
discreet connexion, compelled by certain parish
officers to marry the mother of the young wo-
man. He immediately afterwards left her, and
went to a distant part (we believe to Horpcastle,)
where, passing as a single man, he married a re-
spectable young woman of some property, by
whom he had afterwards a family, now moving in
, a creditable situation in life. Many years after
i this second marriage, being at Gl"d1lllham9 he
accidentally_met the young woman, who has now
come forward as the claimant of his property,
and satisfying himselfthat she was the offspring
l of his early connexion with the female whom he
l had been compelled to marry (and who, he learn-
i ed, had been dead for '18 years,) he told the girl
l that he would befriend her, and did two or three
ltimes afterwards show such an interest in her
out of which when he recovered, his first words"
great a sinner himself to speak comfort to me.—. welfare as led the girl to entertain suspicioiis. "
(which the parish registers and other proofs had
now shown to be well warranted) of Mr. W's be-
ing her father. ‘We undei's‘.and that the proofs
are indisputable, as the second marriage was con.
tracted during the first wife, the present respect.
able widowand her family will bylaw, lose all
the property of which the father and Supposed
linsband died possessed.—li'nglz'.s-/2 jzajzer.
-—-:2--3:?-in-—-.
Died, on Fiiday,l3th ult. at Grcensbu rg, Penn.
Mrs. Kitty Hontsberger. The circumstances
of her death are of more than usual -interest, and
calculated, at once. to smite the breast with the
liveliest feelings of sympathy in her fate, and as.
tonishment at the conviction it so forcibly im.
presses on the mind, that the tenure by which
we hold every boon of life itself, is flimsy indeed.
After taking breakfast’ on the morning of the
day on which she died, she repairedwitli her fa-
ther and family to the field to assist in raking and
binding their oats ; but had not proceededliut a
short distance, before she was bitten by a large
rattlesnake, rather’ above and behind the inner
ankle of the right foot. The snake was killed,
and she immediately ran to the house, which W‘
not far distant. But so diffusible and powerft
is the_venom of this animal at the present seasot
of the year, that she had not reached it until it
seemed to have pervaded her whole system. She
became actually blind, as she stated, about the
time she got to the bars, a few rods from the door.
The action of the virus was, no doubt, more in-
staneous, from the increased rapidity of ‘her ciri
cnlation and her alarm of mind, and possibly
from its being immediately inserted into some
considerable vein or absorbent, leading from the
part. As soon as she reached the house, a liga-
ture was firmly tied around the leg below the
knee, and the circulation in it immediately stop-
time medical assistance was procured. The leg
below the ligature was now perfectly black and
danger being apprehended from the stoppage of
the circulation for so great a length of time, a
free accession of the bitten part was made and
the ligature removed. Stimulating applications,
as spirits of hartshorn, and spirits‘ofturpeintine,
were then employed. The pulse, though not
very strong and full, was sufliciently so to admit
of bleeding, and about twelve ounces were drawn
from the arm. It exhibited no inflamatory buff
or any other morbid appearance. An opiate was
next administered combincdwith ingredicjnts cal-
culated to promote perspiration and allay ner-
vous irritation.
time, and a slight remission from‘pain seemed to
be the effect, perspiration was profuse, and vom-
iting, which bad been frequent and severe, did
not return. The swelling of the face and of the
bitten leg also decreased. But her sufferings
soon returned with rcdoubled violence. Her
bowels, breast and head, were each the sc::;t_ of in-
disciibable agony, though she l‘l’€q‘.l€!T‘-.‘l‘j".’ ex-'
claimed that she seemed all on lire, lll)I.i~.'Z’fl_-1_iK‘ her
-‘feelings could not ,be more painful in's;;b1ed'o£
fire. Her vision was perfect at intert'oln,'but a-
gain entirely destroyed. She complained‘ much
of her mouth and tciigue, and though sometimes‘
fluid. The olive oil, which has been supposed
to have cured the bite of the rattlesnake sd‘Tre-
quently, was given in frequent and kirgr: doses;
the opiate was again l‘epcat_td, and wlieii the ex,"
tremities began to growcold, and the vital prin-‘
ciple seemed retreating to its centre, a hopeless
attempt was still made to rekindle it by the volatile
alkali and sinapisms to the sole of the feet. ,_,but
the fatal malady advanced with an obstii_i_iicy that
baflied every effort ; all was inell'cctital., and at 5
o’clock, P. M. she was no there. .
In Upper Canada, of the I-lydrophobia, the
Duke of Richmond, Governor General of, the
Canadas. Being afflicted with sore lips,.a small
dog, belonging to his family, was pcrmittccl to
lick them, with the hope that it would afford re-
lief, and the disease was supposed to have been
communicated in that way.
Near VValterborough, (S. G.) Mr. John Saun-
ders-—killed by a fall from‘ his horse, which had
taken fright. As the horse returned without him,
Mrs. S. anticipating some accident sent after him,
and with much anxiety waited till midnight,
when shocking to relate, he was brought to her a
lifeless corpse. He was a very wo.r_t'ny person,
and has left a wife and seven small children to
mourn his untimely end. '
At East-Haven, Mr. .lohnW'oodward, aged 50;-
he put an end to his life by hanging himself.
. .____....,g.®a.'<-5:5.-’———— V
Cure for the Dysentery.—-Take two ‘glasses
Sweet Oil—-two glasses VV. I. Molasses-two
glasses W. I. rum—simmer them well together
over a fire, till it becomes the thickness of honey,
so that the oil may not separate from the rcst.-—-
VVhile on the fire, keep it well stirretl, and when
taken off, continue the some till it iscool. Then
the patient, ifagrown person, should taken spoon-‘
ful once an hour till he finds the disease abating ;
then once in two hours, or as the jndgmeiit may
suggest, until cured. Children to take it in like
manner in proportion to their ages. The person
who hands this for publication‘, has experienced
cures in his own family, and knows nian-y others
of the most desperate kindf It is a_ simple med-
icine, and not the least injuiious to the most del-
icate constitution. Let those who are alllicted
try the experiment—it will do no harm--and
will certainly save life l—-Baltimore Z’ct2'ior,_
It being proved on trial that a, man's name wag
really Inc/'1, who pretended it was Linch, (I see,
(said the Judge,) the old proverb is verified in tlfig,
man, who being allowed to take on 1'.'.7c/4 has taxi».
en an L.’ .
One by his cxtravaguiic._-as, liming rim liliiigggll‘
over head and cars in debt, and seeming vet'y-gem-.
concerned about it,'his friend told him that ha.
wondered how he could sleep quietly while, 11¢.
was so much in debt : ‘ For myself, (said the e,§§,.,
er,) I sleep very well-—-but I err: astenia-licd_ shag,
mt: cre5.’z'tors can.’
ped. Between three and fourhours from this
This was repeated in a short
thirsty, at others was unable to swallow ti drop of -
O
1.
Norwalk Chronicler