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-it-non: “1vlti~ziio1-*.,” A New NOVEL; BY THE -W‘
THOR or .WAV'EI{LY.
Ifelzrcw ‘Song, 6y Rebecca, tlzc Jewcss.'
‘When Israel of the Lord beloved,
out {mm the land of bondage came,
Her l'ather’s God before her moved,
An awful ‘guide in smoke and flaine.
By day, along the astonished lands,
The cloudypillow glided 510W ;
By night, Arabia's crimsoned sands
Returned the fiery colu'mn’s glow.
There rose the choral hymn of praise,
Anti trump and timbre! answered keen,
-And Zion’s daughters pour’d their lays,
\Vitli Priest’s and VVarrior’s voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,
Forsaken Israel wanders lone ; ‘
Our fathers would not know thy ivayss
And thou hast left them to their own.
But present still, though not unseen l '
‘When brightly shines the prosperous day,
Be thoughts of thee a cloudy screen
To ternper the deceitful ray :
-And oh! where stoops on .ludah’s patli
In shadeand storm the frequent night,
Be thou long-su{i'ering, slow to wratli,
A burning and a shining light 1
Our harps we left by B.~.bel’s streams,
The tyrant’s jest. the Gen'.ile’s scorn;
No censor round our altar beams,
And mute are timbre-l, trump, and horn.
But Thou hast said the blood of goat,
The flesh of rains I will not prize,
A contrite heart, a humble thought,
Are mine accepted sacrifice. '
-—-<:>§9—-
Frmn t/to Bunion C'c7zt£7tc=.’.
AMERICAN Sxiircnns.
Vi.’ hen Freedoin deck’d her mountain cave,
And heard the distant howl of war ;
The clanking chain, the shouting braves '
The hostile spear, the smoking car :
The maid her silver clarion look,
And deeply blow through hill and glen,
Till rock and tree and cavern shook,
And echo paid her back again.
Down from her wildly blight retreat, t
llcr rosy couch and sylvan shade, ‘
‘.Vith golden sandals on her feet,
Willi flowers and beauty’s light array’d.
She came, and ilionsaod’s at her side,
\Vav’<l high in all‘ the glitteiing sword.
And bra"ely fotight. and conquering died,
For I*‘reedom‘s weal, and Ft-eetloin’s word.
And tliousaiids yet celestial ITl.tI(l l
'\Vi;eiie’er thy trtimpet Witl’lllllgS bid,-‘
For thee in al'Ill>‘, for thee array",
Sliall ccsnqtier as their ll‘-.:'.llt‘.'l‘S did.
Anti e’ea‘ should tyrziiil’:-; foot iiitrucle,
Letters of fire and tracts ofgzire
Shall mark the ebl.En-~- -W ' ‘ “
I
.q..
., iuuuivntii) ox FACT.
‘ f_C‘):<1INiIED.]
I had -11 what information I wanted, took
my leave of her and re-ineasured my steps back
to my lodgings. I was well convinced that what
the lady said was too true i Solis of generosity
and sympathy I Daughters of ail'c-ction and sen-
sibilit ’ 1 How can I picture to you my feelings
at this critical juncture ? I was driven from home
and did not dare return ; Ihad iindergone fatigue
and painful lassitude for Edwin, and he had now
forsaken me for another. I was some hundred
miles from home in a strange laud, without ‘any
one to advise or condole me. No kind father to
protect me-——no tender mother to weep over and
caress me——no endearing friend to drop the balm
of pity into my alllictcd bosetn--and no iutimaie
associate, into whose bosoiii I could pour the se» l‘ttpLllt'L'(l totlie streets, in hopes of finding some
employ!-'t:ent to enable me to pay my landlord,
and procure some provisions.
clioly heart did I team through the streets till a-
bout two o’clock, wlienl was met by a rotigli
now hear the thought of l‘l‘.'.ll{llIg' myself kliown to looking sailor, who shewed me a haiidfcl of dol-
him, as by that he might be made more. unhap- lais, and said. ‘ there, now sir, I can live again.’
1 inqtiizecl how he became so fortunate.
just shipped,’ said he, ‘ on board yonder vessel,’
crets which rent my soul. I therefore locked my
sorrous in my own breast, and here my injuries
in silence-. Iarrived at my lodgings about elev-
en o’clock, and found Edwin absent. I could not
py, and I knew not if I should convince him that
I was in reality (loitlclia, but that he would now
refuse me a place in his heart. 1 tlierefore l‘é.-
solved on starting into the world again, alone and Wllctl l".
unprotected; for l dared not to be in his pre- ‘0 yes ;’ said he, * they will give you 15 dollars
a month, if you never saw salt water before; I
sence again. I inquired of my hostess when lit!-
win would return. ‘ I assure you,’ said she, ‘ he
will not leavehis Eliza till day-light ; he will be
a fool to blunder through our miry street before
that time.’ Her speech rushed like a thunder-
bolt through my agonized brain, and I burst into
tears, which gave a partial relief to my sorrow.
I called for_ a candle, paper, pen and ink, and
then wrote a letter and addressed it to Etlwin.
whercinI explained to him my whole tlt:crption--
what I had suffered for him--how I had become
acquainted with his design of marrying, and as I
did not wish to give him any unhappiness, I had
left him forever——tliat his inquiries after me would
be vain, for he could see me no more. ‘ 0, per-
jured Edwin, (said the lettei‘) how could you treat
your Cordelia thus ? VVhy would you give heed
to public or private report, witlicut becoming
‘yourself acquainted with its truth or fallacious-
ness ? Yoit never loved ine,'or you would not have
forsaken me for another, wlienl have endured
so much for you. Sure there is no faith in men ;
their fair protestations of love, and their mighty
oaths of constancy, are no more than wind that
waves the tender leaf. They are forgottoii and
remembered only as a dream. 0, how grossly
have I been deceived ! I thought I I...d to deal
with a man ofhonor. O hypocrisy, how couldst
thou wear so winning a smile! O generosity,
where hast thou fled ! Has honor entirely forsa-
ken the breast ofinan ? Alasl my Edwin, I, can
‘never behold you more. Vt7hat a dreadful night
have I endured! 0 that I could pour my full
heart into your bosom, and receive your sympa-
lhizing consolation. I endeavor to calm my per-
turbed spirits and obtain some composure of
mind, at least till day-light, when I have. ordered
3 chaise to conduct me far from tliisplace. You
are now in your slumbers, unconscious that you
will never behold me again. Almighty Father,
grant him happiness and length of days, but pro-
last cc nt 1 had.
andat night took lotlgiiig at the Inn, without any
tect the too credulous female, lest she, like inc,
be ensnared by his charms, then, betrayed by __liis
false tongue. Farewell,_ cruel Edwin, and you
must likewise bid along farewell tor CORDELIA.
After settling with my hostess, and leaving the
above letter for Edwin, I left the house—stepped
into the chaise with a sad heart and a solitary
‘ countenance. I now, for the first time, felt the
cruel heart-rending pains of Ullrettlirlled love.-—
Every object I beheld raised in my breast a
thought of the delights which I could behold no
more. ’ The busy, whistling plough boy added a
pang to my grief, and the situation of the beauti-
lul happy maiden, ‘made me more sensibly feel
my own. I proceeded on, wrapt in the most mel-
ancholy reflections, until we arrived at,our place
of destination, which was 53 miles from Buffalo.
I paid my driver and he returned, with a promise
of keeping the place of my retreat a secret. It
was now evening, and a solitary gloom seemed to
,hang over iiniversztl nature. My heart was de-
pressed, no hope, no beam of comfort irradiated
my dark mind ; but ice, cold ice, seemed to coin-
pose my wretched frame. My distracted lone-
some soul was h’urriccl by a tlicvusand fancies ; a
thousand projects rushed succesively through my
brain. The family at the Inn marked the settled
melancholy on my countenance, and seemed to
tender their kind services to assuage my woe-—
but vain were all their effort;-5, my heart was dead
to pleasure. The young people of the neighbor-
hood had collected at the Inn in order to spend
the ‘evening in plays, Etc. They politely invited
me to join them, but I refused, and retired sadly
alone to my own chamber, to indulge my grief
and brood over my miseries. I then raised my
eyes to heaven, and after imploring God to be a
protector oftlie female wanderer, retired to rest.
After passing a sleepless night, I arose, anti
concluded on visiting the city of New-York, as I
did not dare return to iny parents ; for ill did, I
knew not whether they would receive me ; and if
they should, I was certain of being covered with
bitter reproaches and shame for what I had al-
ready done, as I had made my design of going to
Buffalo known to my sister. After breakfast, I
took stage and proceeded towards N. York, sadly
dejected. It was in the pleasant month of June,
and all iiat-.ire seemed to smile; bur smiled not
for 1ne——for me it liadino attraction, Iwas insen-
sible and inanimate.
A young girl of ~18, used to no uncommon la-
bor, uiiacqiiainted with the vicissitudes of the
world, still more unacquainted with mankind and
their various passions, unhackneyt-.-d in vice, far
ftsrlll htvnie, and among inl;-ospltable strangers,
tlesertt-cl by protecting patents, forssiken by the
iiian for whom i had quit my fond home forever,
cast abantloiied on the wide theatre of the world,
without a friend to pity, and almost without mon-
t-y, was the awful situation to which I was redu-
ced. , ‘
1 new ad arrived at New-York, where every
p-_-is-on I met was an entire stranger. I examin-
L(l my pocket, and found I had but one half dollar
felt. I\ hat to do I knew not. I could not labor
as a man, and had not money stiflicieiit to enable
me to ttllpcal‘ as a woman. To beg I was asha-
med, and tosteal most certainly I coutld not. I
had not nioizey st-ilicient to procure a d't'y’s board,
‘ yet willl bear it,’ said I. ‘ andwhatevct‘ may be
my fate, I will still act greatly ; I will lose my
life before I will entei into vice to procure stn~.tc-
nance; although I hunger, yet will I perish free-
ly, before I will overleap the line of rectitude and i
virtue.. L") God 1 said I, protect a tender female,
who wanders listless ivitlzoiit afiiend—-—temper
the wind to the siiorn lamb’ I now wandered
down beside the lludson, and cast a '.t~islif'ul eye
into its waters; I even tlzouglit of terniiuating
my miseries in a watery grave. In this despair
I needed all the aids of cliristianity to support
me, and these were sufficient. ,
I now retui tied to the inn, spent the nights 100k
breakfast in the mOl'lllll“', for which 1 paid the
1 passed that day without eating,
prospect of paying. The next day Iarose and
Vlfitlt a inel_an-
‘ I have
[)(.lllll|:5 to a ship that lay with flying colors at the
* And do they still want men,’ said I.--
guess you never, crossed the line, your hands look
too dtlic-ate to, have handled tarred ropes any
length of time. I now repaired on board the
zallip, whose name was Paragon, where I learned
she was bound to New-Orleans, from thence to
.lJlVCl'pL‘lll, and then return to New-York; a voy-
I asked in a jocose manner, if they knew who and
what I was : tlieir answer was always slight and
incongruous. But alas! this was not now my
greatest trouble. The dreadful storms of con-
tending passions, the corroding of unreturned
love, the bitter reflections of uiiforgiven miscon-
duct, and the despairing thoughts of a fond home,
while far from it,are horrors at which nature shud-
ders, and the calm thinking mind stands aghast.
My perturbation was increased by the thoughts of
never again beliolding my paternal home, but
tossed on the convulsive waves of fortune, until
tired nature should dissolve into its cold original
existence. A gloomy melancholy was settled on
my countenance ; I grew weary of life". Repeat-
edly, did I lay my head on my pillow and pray as
I was closing my eyes, that I might never ‘open
them again. The morning came-—I again open-
ed them at the shrill call of the second mate and
returned to my former wretchedness. Soaring
on the wings of imagination, I sometimes viewed
myself safely returned home, where I was met’
by the fondest of parents, who thought my sin of
disobedience, sufficiently atoned for. I saw the
time fast approaching when I should return home
and receive their blessing before I died. But
still an awful gloom hovers over that which is un-
explored, and in which the mind that contem-
plates it is bets-ilcleredin obscurity. \Ve are de-
lighted with the images which fancy forms, and
pursue them with alacrity till the mask is thrown
off, and then the delusion no longer charms.-—
Theii we are involved in horror, dismay and dis-
appointment.
(To be concluded in our‘ next.)
3-3;:-$$3————
Grcamcss Q/' Soul.—-An anecdote, in ‘.4 Tour
in Corsica, will illustrate the prediction, that true
greatness of soul may be found as well in the
lower as in the higher grades of life.
‘ The leader of a gang of banditti, who had
been famous for his exploits, was at length taken
and committed to the care of a soldier, from
whom he contrived to escape. The soldier was
‘tried and condemned to death. At the place of
execution, a man came up to the commanding
oflicer, and said, ‘ Sir, I am a stranger to you,
but you shall soon know who I am--I have heard
one of your soldiers is to die for having siilfered
a prisoner to escape : he is not at all to blame :
beside, the prisoner shall be restored to you-be-
hold him here——I am the man——I cannot bear
that an innocent man should be punished f r me :
and I come to die inysell.’ ‘ No,’ cried the oili-
cer, who felt the sublimity of the action as he
ought, ‘ thoti shalt not (lie, and the soldier shall
be set at liberty. Endeavor to reap the fruits of
thy generosity. Thou deseroctlt to be lzcncrjfort/1
an honest man.’
-10$-0
Female Scz'ence.—A learned lady once inquired
why Chemistry, Geography, Algebra,Languages,
see. were not as becoming in a woman as a man ?
‘ I will not say,’ replied a wit, ,‘ they are entirely
tinhecoining ; but I should think a‘ very little
would answer the pi'ii'po_se. _ A woman's lrnoirl-
edge of Chemistry might extend to the melting
of’ l;u.t.'.‘r-—-—her Geography to a t/zoroug/z knowl-
ulge of every hole and corner in I/ze /zou.9e—her
Algebra to the family ex/zenccs-—--anti as for
Tongues, heaven knows‘ that one is quite .suficz'ent.’
Pedafztry re/174o'vc'*;'i'.—-A young man who was
a student in one of our colleges, being very vain
of his knowledge of the Latin language, embra-
ced every opportunity that offered, uttering short
sentences in Latin before his more illiterate com-
panions. An uncle of his, who was a seafaring
man, having just arrived from a long voyage, in-
vited his nephew to visit him on board his ship.
The young gentleman went on board, and was
highly pleased with every thing he saw; VVish-
ing to give his uncle an idea of his su/zerior /mawl-
edge, be tapped him on the shoulder, and point-
ing to the windlass,asked, ‘ Quid eat lioc 3’ His
uncle, being a man who despised such vanity,
took a chew oftobacco from his mouth,and throw-
ing it in his iiephe\v’s face, replied ‘ I-loc est
quid.’
i
At a methodist meeting held at a private ll0tlS6s
one of the light lingered gentry happened to be
present, whose attention was arrested more by a
string of stiasages hanging tip in the room, than
by the words of the preacher. During the dis-
course he had, unnoticed, filled his bosom with
the suasagres, when his attention W88 drawn 10 lllc
preacher, who was exhorting his hearers to give
up their sins, and in particular their bosom sins.
The suasage man immediately came forward,
threw his suasages on the floor, cxclaiining-—
* here, take your d d links, I don’t want ’em
if you are going to make a fuss about it.’
A deputation of Indians, of the Six Nations
(says a Philadelphia paper) residing in this state,
age of about 8 months. I inquired of the com-
rnandei- if he was in want of hands ; he politely l
answered ‘ yes sir, but you look almost too tender
to brave old ocean’s thunder-storm. Are you
acquainted with the maritime life?’ I told him 1
I was not. ‘ \Vell,’ said be, ‘we give good sea-f
men 24 dollars a month, and raw hands no more
than 14.’ I told him I would enlist for that. and
accordingly signed the ship’s papers, while my
tears mingled with the ink, and received my
month’s advance, which enabled me to pay my
landlord and procure me some provisions, which
I much needed. After I was refreshed, I began
to consider what I had done. I now beheld my-
self entrapped in horrible servitude. lforesaw
a discovery of my sex producing intricate difficul-
ties, and perliapseventtial ruin. * I fancied my-
self surrounded by those blood bounds of Nep-
tune, who exultingly stripped the clothes from
my defenceless body. 1 could not sustain the
picture which my fancy had drawn, and burst in-
totears. ‘ Yet let me trust in God,’ said I, with
a smile ofliope beaming on my countenance, ‘let
me trust ‘in God, for all may yet, end well. If he
has mercy, he may grant mercy too on me.’
Next day we went ‘on board the ship and went
to work overhauling the rigging sails, Sac. In
three days we set sail for New-Orleans, with a fa-
vorable wind, and in 23 days arrived at the mouth
of the Mississippi. We had a prosperous voy-
age, and I should have passed my time very a-
greeably, had it not been for a sorrow that inces-
santly preyed upon my mind. Not the most dis-
presented a l\'Iemorial to the last legislature, i'e-
specting their lands, and it was with no small de-
gree of admiration that we listened to the detail
before the committee, made by one of their wo-
men, a handsome portly squaw, with a clear olive
complexion, and Grecian features-—she wore a
man’s hat, bound with a silver band, and orna-
mented with a profusion of colored leathers, from
which her long black and coarse hair hung in a-
bundance. She explained the nature of their
claims. the difficulties to be overcome, and their
rights by treaty, with singular address, and repli-
ed to several important and trying questions ask-
ed by the Committec, with great skill and inge-
nuity, while the warriors, with grave looks, nod-
ded assent to all she advanced.
A schooner at Philadelpliia, while in the act of
rounding too, _on the 2d inst. uiifortunately lost a
man overboard. The cook ran aft, jumped into
the boat in order to render his shipmate assist-
ance, when the boat capsized, filled, and’ also
threw him overboard, and before assistance could
be rendered, they both sunk to rise no more.
On the eveningof the 22d tilt. a Mr. Gold-
smith, near Dolsentown, in sliding down a hay-
mow, ran apitcliforlt (which he had thrown down)
into his body, and he died in about 12 hours.
. --T:
A lady died lately at St. Juan, Cuba.‘ aged 45
years, the mother of no less than thirty-three
children, who were all baptised. The father and
twenty-three of the children were alive about six
taut suspicion of my sex was perceptible in any
weeks since.
a-—......._.. -... \pa\.~(¢-A .. - -
‘ person with wllom Icoiivéi'sed. Frequently have -
‘ .. icon Tl-{E ‘NOR‘WAL!ii c;A‘zi=.i'r'riz.
‘ To render those with "whom we are 'co,,,.e,.5,,nt
happy, is the height of politeness. 'To accom-
Pllsh this: a degree of attention and respect is
necessary. Many, possessed of this idea, and
desirous ofrendering -themselves agreeable and
their friends happy, carry their attention to such
an extreme as to be tedious’ and irksonie. If
you dine with one of this stamp, after you have
eaten till you are satisfied, you areiquesiioned
times without number, if you will notbe helped
to such and such a dish, and importuiied and ur.
ged to eat, till you are tired of refusing, and your
ingenuity has been well tried in InV‘€n[ingexcu5cg_
Now, Messrs. Printers, I, who am not possessed
of that flow of language and variety of expression
necessary on such inn.-resting occasions, am often
ptit to the blush, for want of a suliicient variety
of excuses. For my own part,I had at any time
rather lose a meal, l.lI?.I] to be obliged (after [
have eaten enough) to give along and labored ac-
count why. I do ‘not eat. If my good friends,
therefore,\vould suffer me to desist when I please,
and urge me no fartlier than decency required,
they would act a much more friendly part and
render me much more happy. '
True politeness consists in accommodating
yourself, in your customs and manners, to the
humours and tastes of your compan_v—.—in pm»-
mitting them to act at their own pleasure, and
not in urging them to comply with yours, Po,
liteness.cari-led to an extreme, degeneratts either
into ostentatious ceremony, or disgusting om.
ciousness. To avoid either of which, a true and
refined taste only is necessary.
If we would know wlietiier our 0')l‘l(l|£Cl, ina-
ny particular instance, comports with true polite-
ness, we need only consider whether it be calcu.
lated to please and render, happy those with
whom we are conversant. For true politeness
in manners and ceremony, consists in pleasing ;
and whatever has not this for its object, merits
not the name. -
Furtlier, Messrs. Printers, the vulgar of Con-
necticut have ever been distinguished by their
inquisitiveness _to know other pe«.p1c’51,»,;;,in-_-gs,
and concerns. But who would suppose, that at
this period of refinement, tl:-is tulgarism was
practiced under a notion of politeness, by many
of the best bred iiiliabitants in this tour). This
is not more strange than true. ‘.'v'hen you have
spent what time you think proper in company,
and rise to retire, you are Sum to be attacked with
this it/2/zertirzcnt qtiestion--—‘ 5'1"/'nzl:‘.v V:/our 1'. nrry .9’
Here you are reduced to the dire necessity of ei-
ther giving a true account ofyour business ; or,
if it is of suclt a nature you do not clzoose to re-
veal it, of giving the only /mi-/z‘7imt aiis-.re;~_..~ It
is none qfyour bzzsvilzcss.’ Tlit':se jzo/z'n~: people
must mean that you should give them some kind
of an answer, and tii‘.doi_ibtcdly one that will cum-
pletcly solve the question. Tltey ought not there-
fore to take it amiss, it you give it them in the
.9/Ior.'c.'.t lc'r.=,~2.¢. New, Messrs. Printers, through
the medium of your paper, I give public notice,
that hereafter, as long as I are attacked with that
z'mjzc.=rtz’7zc-rzt r/zu:-.9tz'o/1, I am determined to return
the only ficrtirzent rm.9=wer. And I slizill expect
that this public notice, togetlier with Solommi’s
advice, ‘ that an lnl;7E"ll.'.'CDt person Sll0Ult'li)C-
answered according t__o_,_h_.is impertinence.’ will be
myapology. AN. OLD SCHOOLMASTEII.
, FOR Tim GAZETTE.
There is nothing so wonderful, as that those
who profess the common name of Christians.
should pursue each other with rancor and hatred,
on account of their different ways of following
the example of their Saviour. VVe should natur-
ally think, that all those that pretend to follow
any leader, would conform theinselves to his niaii_-
ners. lie was a pattern of meekness and chari-
ty ; and it is impossible to account for an effect
so d'ili’erent from what we iniglit t‘X[l('Ci,ii)lll by
ascribing it to the depravity of human nature.-—
The massacre of Paris, and the Irish rebelli-.-n,
show us to whiita degree of madness poor ignor-
ant people may be worked up, by their spiritual
guides ; they have been led to rommitcriincs ab-
horrent to nature, while living tintlcr the dispen-
F
ing God service ; and the history (sf the Clitircb,
is the history of the miseries that mankind have
inflicted on each other, because they would not
conform to human inventions. llrlcn are prone to
reduce religion to a coiisistcncy \‘-ith the gr-atili-t
cations of their passions, their pride, and avarice.
Thus, by placing it in mere profession,-or in rites
and ceremonies, they learn to be religious, willi-
out real goodness ; their pride and self-conceit
causes them to think tliemselves always inihe
right, and others in the wrong; they speak evil
of all men but their own party, and the common
duties of humanity scarcely ever employ their
tongues, or their hands. Such a temper never
descended from above; for he that has an aver-
sion to another, for differing from him in opinion
in matters of-less moment, while they agree in
those things that are essential to be believed, is
no christian. I am not afraid, says Bishop Ship-
ley, of those tender and scrupulous consciences,
who are cautious ofprofessing too much ; ifthey
are sincerely in the wrong, I forgive them,_aml
respect their integrity ; for there can he no crime‘
in unintentional error.
VVben we look abroad among those that call
themselves Cliristians, we behold them broken
into numerous sects and parties, without cliarity
for, and with an aversion to each other; each Con-'
tending iiercely for the tenets, and modes of wor-
ship among their own sect. as matters of infinite
importance, as though all the law and the proph-
ets hung upon them. VVe must be convinced that
such conduct brings infinite discredit on cliris-'
tianity, among infidel nations, and is the greatest
obstacle to their conversion to the faith. Ortho-
doxy and zeal will avail us nothing if we are des-
titute ofmeekness and charit ', and stich a sense
of God in the soul, and our obligations and entire
dependance on him, as to make it our principal
study to do_tliat which will be pleasing in his sight,
anti avoid every thing that we think will olfentl
him. THO.UG}I'1'1\‘UL.
-—-a--:::-¢x--—-
wa's.1hc most dangerous; answered, :If you
mean wild beasts, ’tis the slaiiderei"s, if tame
ones the flatterer’s.’
Men generally put a greater value upon the fa-‘
satioii of grace, and verily thought they were do- .
Diogenes being asked, the hitingofwhich beast.
vors they bestow, than upon those they receive.
Norwalk Chronicler