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‘Tm-1 :\'013t.1«:.\1.tN AND THE IIEADSM.-\‘i\' or
PARIS.
M. de _Lally, the governor-general of the
French possessions in the East Indies, in conse-
-quence of his unsuccessful administration of his
high office, the violence of his temper, and the
spirit of rigour with which he prosecuted reform
in every department of that nest of corruption
and intrigue, the French East India Company,
was recalled to Paris, impeached before the par-
liament, and convicted of high treason, and a
traitorous correspondence with the English.—-
By tliejudgment of the parliament of Paris he
was beheaded. Voltaire was indignant at this
act of injustice and tyranny, and assisted dc
Lally's son, by his pen and infinence, to obtain
the repeal oftliis iniquitous sentence, which was
at length cflcctml. and the intelligence of which.
cliecrcd the last liours of the patriarch l<‘erney.
The son ofthis victim of legal injustice was the
gallant De Lally Toleiidalil, who disiinguislicd
liimselfas the advocate of order and law, in the
most extravagant epoch ofthe l"rench revolu-
tion, and deserved the line culogium of l3urkc—-
EDS. .\'. 1\lll‘.ltt)f‘..
x.
uiéEi"6i5"ifiisT‘oa1*.
In the course of a,inan’s life he is necessarily
brought into the most extraordinary collisions,
and frequently comes in contact witlfpeoplc who
exercise no littleinflncnce upon his fortunes in
the subsequent relations of life.
Before .'\'i. do Lally sailed for the East In-
dies, and obtained the supreme govennicnt that
resulted so disastciously for the arms of lt‘rance,,
and the life of the go=.'eriior general oftlie east,
he resided soinc ti_ii’ic in Paris, where, as a young
nud elegant coiirtier, carclc.-:s and lllC0il.$iElllL~lll
his pursuits, an imweuied votarv of pleasure,
and a _polishml tlebaticlic. he lived, like the otli-
.er golden winged.huttei'llies of thatbrilliant no-
bility, whose raiik, fortune, and name secured
license and impunity for their wildest excess-
cs.
One evening, after a wild and noisy banquet,
I\.l.dc Lally, and his light ':eai'tctl coiiirades,
paraded tlirough the streets of Paris, in searcli
of adventures, and in the hope encountered
some steady citi'.:.'.-iis who hail lingered out be-
yond their usual regular hours, at whose ex-
pense they proiniscd tlicinsclvcs much amuse-
ment. As they were crossing the little street of
St. John. their ears were suddenly struck with
-the sounds of niusick and revelry. an unusual
,.circumst:ince in so retired and tranquil a spot ;
thcv ¢.,Ifl.'/.(,‘tl around, and saw the windows oftlie
1lf)[ILll‘IlllCl’]l$ in the third story of a house brill-
iantly illuininatcil. _-‘it this sight, they 8.‘-I(.'lZlll'll(:(l
.niianiuionsl\,-', “'tl:e_v are giving a ball there; let
us all asceiid and join in the dance.” No soon-
,cr said than done ; they rang the hell clieerily :
and a man. with a frank and open expression of
countenance. came to their call.
“Sir,” said )1. dc Lally, “we are respectable
people, and are very fond of dancing ; chance
has brought us into your neighborhood, where,
hearing the strains of you r inusick, we could not
resist the inclination ofpresentiug our respects to
you, and craving permission to join your merry
circle. 1 pray you not to refuse us this civility,
and I pledge iuysclfyou shall not regrethaving
accorded it.”
“\Vith the greatest pleasure in the world, gen-
tlemen,” said the host ; “only, before you eti-
ter, I should like to let you know under whose
1-oof. you will be.”
“That is not at all necessary; your language
and manners show you to be a well educated
person; and we are confident that when in your
society, we cannot be better situated.” ,
“Still, gentlemen, it is my duty to apprise
'on with whom you are conversing ; I am the
executionerofParis ; I have married my daugh-
‘ ter to the son of one of my professional breth-
lren, and we are now celebrating the wedding.
A movement ofhesitation and doubt was now
perceptible among the young lords; but quick-
] resuming their gayety, and smiling, in anti-
cipation, at the idea of being enabled to say in
i the courtly and magnificent saloons of Versailles
.-“\Ve have danced in the house of the execu-
tioner of Paris”—they replied, *‘VVe shall all
be transported to make your acquaintance here,
air; your conversation and manners impress us
beforehand, with a favorable opinion of a per-
sonage, whose name, we must admit, is not al-
ways pronounced without an involuntary shud-
der.
Once introduced, the young noblemen vied
xvitlw anr-l1 ntlmr in their efinrte In engage tl1n
prettest girls as partners, and entered into all the
‘hilarity of the" time and event. ‘
M. de Lally, unconciously agitated and exci-
ited without knowing wherefore, remained alone
‘with the host, became inserisibly interested in
his conversrtion, and put a variety of curious
J questions to him respcting his feelings and his
avocation.
‘Butit is not you, sir, who actually go through
the details of an execution, and perform the of-
afices of the law with your own hand '.”’
“Not on all occasions, as I have assistants;
I am only required to superintend, and am held
responsible for the proper performance of the
judgment. But. if the individual condemned
‘should be a great nobleman—-should you. my
lord for instance, be under sentence—I should
rhnld it my duty, and consider it as an honor, to
{execute the doom with my ownhand.”
M. de Lally smiled, but in a constrained and
uncomfortable manner, and soon retired from so
ominous a companion.
Fifteen years afterwards, exactly to a (lay, M
de Lally was beheaded by this very same exe-
‘cutioner.
In this year of grace, 1836, go_ to the street
Des Marias, behind the Diorama, and knock at
a pretty looking house, which has no number 0-
0 he door, you will be received bya person
a very strong resemblance
’ Louis the sixteenth;
d readily answer
im. He will
ver_ t
VOL. 19.
4 \ --r -
_ show you his library; for he is addicted to liter-
ature, and is a man of taste and refinement in
such pursuits. If you press him closely, he
- will ft.-Ll you earnestly, that he would sacrifice
one half of his fortniie to ensure the abolition of
‘ capital punishments.
\Vithout any reluctance he will allow you to
examine his museum, and will exhibit to you a
.. ,3
little mahogony guillotine, and a large and
broad bladed sword. The guillotine is the first
model of this instrument that was ever made ;
and the sword is the weapon with which crim-
lflfllsxéf noble birth, (who under the old regime
e11J'0Vt.-d th0 lhiriloge ofnot being hanged,) were
decaptiated. After directing your attention to
alarge notch in the edge of the sword near the
hilt, he will say:
“In my father’s time, the noblemen and court-
iers claimed the right of standing upon the plat-
form ofthe scaffold, to witnesscapital executions.
\Vhen M. de Lally’s head was cut off; a young
lord ’ogrred in fatlier’s arm, diverted the stroke
froinJthe spotbit was aimed at, and the blade
came in contact with a tooth, which turned its
edge and occasioned this notch.”
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES.
J.-ll‘-IE5 IIOGG, THE E'.l."1‘RlCK SIIEPIIERD.
\Ve cannot allow so extraordinary a man as
.Iaincs l-logg to pass from among us withoutsucli
notice as may, at least, bear witness that we are
notinscnsible to the loss. He was, we believe,
in l)ls‘sl.\'ly third year; we might add, on his
authority, that he was born on the twenty fifth
of.lanuary, 1772, the birth day 0fRobert Bitrns,
but there has been so much harmless mystifi-
cation on this subject, that we are by no means
certain of the fact. Hogg, as be delighted to tell
the world was born a sheplierd—ihe son ofinany
generations of shepherds—-yet, humble as was
his parentage, it was not below the reach of
misfortune; and, at six years ofagc, “Jaimie
the Peeler,” as he was subsequently called, was
obliged to get his own living, and, for that pur-
pose, engaged himself to herd cows for a neigh-
boring farrner ; an occupation which he describes
as the lowest in Scotland, yet not without its ro-
mance, as some of the anecdotes of his early
life can bear witness ; here is one worth repeat-
ing:
“That summer, when only eight years of
age, I was sent out to a height called Broad
heads, with a rosy checked maiden to herd a
flock ofnew- .vcaned lambs, and I had my mis-
ciuevous cows to herd besides. But, as she had
no dog. and I had an excellent one I was order-
cd to keep close by her. Never was a master’s
order better obeyed. Day after day I herded
the cows and the lambs both, and Betty had
nothing to do but to sit and sew. Then we dined
together every day at a well near to the Shiel-
sike head, and after dinner I laid my head down
on her lap, covered her bare feet with my plaid,
and pretentled to fall sound asleep. One day I
heard her say to herself, ‘Poor little laddie, he's
joost tired to death,‘ and then I wept till I was
afraid she would feel the warm tears trickling
on her knee. I wished my master, who was a
handsome young man, would fall in love with
her and marry her, wondering how he could be so
biind and stupid as not to do it. But I thought
ifI were he, I would know well what to do.”
As to learning, it fell not to his share, nor
came within the compass ofhis thoughts-—-except,
indeed, learning the ‘fiddle, which seems to have
been an early passion. “ It was in my eighteenth
year,” he observes, "that I first got a perusal of
‘The Life and and Adventures of Sir \Villiain
VVallace,” and ‘The Gentle Shepherd ; and
though iminoderately fond of them, yet (what
you will think rcmarkablein one who hath since
dabbled so much in verse) I could not help regret-
ting deeply that they were not in prose, that
everybody might have understood them ; or, I
thoughtiftlicy had been in the same kind of
metre with the Psalms, I could have borne with
them. The truth is, I made exceeding slow
progress in reading them, The little reading
that 1 had learned I had nearly lost, and the
Scottish dialect quite confounded me; so that,
before I got to the end ofa line, I had commonly
lost the rhyme of the preceding one; and, ifl
came to a triplet, a thing ofwhich I had no con-
ception, I commonly read to the foot of the page
withoutperceiving that I had lost the rhyme al-
together. I thought the author had been strait-
ened for rhymes, and had just made a part of it
do as well as he could do withoutthem.” It was
six years after that he attempted to write. “ I
had no more dif’fic.ulty of composing songs than
I have at present : and I was equally well pleas-
ed with thein. But, then, the writing ofthem I
that was ajob ! I had no method oflearning to
write, save by following the Italian alphabet;
and though I always stripped myself of coat
and vest when I began to pen a song, yet my
wrist took a cramp, so that I could rarely make
above four or six lines at a seting.”
Indeed, with the exception of a few songs
and ballads, I-Iogg was four or five-and-thirty
before he was known as a writer, but then he
burst forth at once with “ The Mountain Bard.”
and, to take his own (and we have no doubt
correct) report, that celebrated work,_“ Hogg on
Sheep.” He has, ever since, been constantly
before the publick. “ Several ofthese composi-
tions," says Mr. Cunningham, speaking of “The
Mountain Bard,” were ofgreatmerit : “Gilman-
sclcuh" has much tendernes_sand simplicity, and
the wild tale of “ Will Wikin" aspires to rank
with the “ Glenfinlas” of Scott. The descrip-
tion of the spectre horses is surpassed by nothing
in ballad verse. The hero of the story went to
a meeting of warlocks, withes, and evil spirits,
held in an old churchyard at midnight, his moth-
er, a devout woman, followed, and was astonish-
ed at finding her son’s horse standing in a rank
of gigantick coursers, among which he séemed
but as a foal. She stretched her hands out to
stroke their mighty sides, and perceived. to her
horrou r, that they were spectral, for every wave
that she gave her arm, a gap was left behind.”
Hogg was, undoubtedly, a man of fine- origi-
nal gcnius. “ The Queen's Wake,” his most
celebrated work, if full of fancy, and, though
unequal, is sttudded throughout with beauties.
We incline however, to think, that there is more
truth than was intended in what Mr. Cunning.-
ham observes, that Hogg's genius “ seems the
natural offspring of the pastoral hills and dales
of the border"—that there is, in fact. a national
1’RI.\'Cl1'LES AND ME.\'.
tone and feeling in his writings, with which we
sontherns do not wholly sympathize—that, in
consequence, Mr. Hoogg was more commended
than read by Englishmen, and that much of his
English fame is attributable to the fine things
said for him, and the hearty cordial spirit which
always animated him in the drainatick scenes
of the “ Noctes.”
SUNDAY EVENING READING.
M.«iN‘s LABOURS A BLESSING.
God hath sent no greater evil into the world,
than that “ in the sweat of our brows we shall
eat our bread ;” and in the difliculty and agony,
in the sorrows and cont.ention of our souls, we
shall "‘ work out our salvation.” But see how
in the first of these God hath outdone his own
anger, and defeated the purposes of his wrath, by
the inundation ofhis mercy ; for this labour and
sweat of our brows is so far frotn being a curse,
that without it our very bread would not be so
great a blessing. If it were not labour tncn
neither could eat so much. nor relish so plcesant-
ly, nor sleep so soundly, nor be so healthful or
so useful, so strong, nor so patient, so noble, nor
so untempted. And as God hath made us be-
holden to labour for the pttrchase of many good
things, so the thing itself owes to labour many
degrees of its worth and value. And therefore,
I need not reckon, that, besides these advantages,
the mercies of God have found out proper and
natural remedies for labour ; nights to cure the
sweat of the day—sleep to case our watch fulness,
rest to alleviate our burdens— and days of relig-
ion to procure our rest ; and things are so order-
ed, that labour is become a duty, and an act of
many virtues, and is not so apt to turn into a
sin as its contrary ; and is therefore necessary, not
only because we need it for making provisions
for our life, but even to raise the labour ofour
rest ; there being no greater tediousness of spirit
in the world than want of employment, and an
inactive life : and the lazy man is not only
unprofitable, but also accursed, and he groans
under the load of his time; which yet passes
over the active man, light as a dream, or the
feathers ofabird; while the unemployed is a
disease, and like along sleepless night to himself,
anda load. unto his country,
DOING ’-l‘IlE LORl)'S \\'0l’.I( 1)EC}II’l‘]"ULLY.
Those that promise to God, mean not to pay
what they once intended ; people that are confi-
dentin the day of ease, and fail in the danger;
they that pray passionately fora grace, and if it
be not obtained at that price yo no farther, and
never contend in action for what they seem to
contend in prayer ; such as delight in foriris and
outsides, and regard not the substance and de-
sign of every institution: that think it a great
sin to taste bread before the receiving the '
sacrament, and yet come to communicate with
an ambitious and revengeful soul ; that make a
sonscience ofeating flesh, but not ofdrunkenncss;
that keep old customs and old sins together;
that pretend on duty to excuse another ; religion
against chairity, or piety to parents against
duty to God, private promises against publick
duty, the keeping ofan oath against breaking of
a commandment, honor against modesty, reputa-
tion against piety, the love of the world in civil
instances to countenance enmity against God ;
these are the deceitful workers of God’s work :
they make a schism in the duties of religion,
and a war in heaven worse than between
Michael and the dragon ; for they divide the
spirit of God, and distinguish his commandments
into parties and factions; by seeking an excuse,
sometimes they destroy the integrity and perfect
constitution of the duty is hindered.
ZFAL O\'E1’tl\IUCII.
Our zeal must never carry us beyond that
which is safe. Some there are, who in their
first attempts and entries upon religion, while
the passion, that brought them in, remains, un-
dertake things as great as their highest thoughts,
no repentance is sharp enough, no fasting afilic-
tive enough, then “totis quinqnatribus orant ;”
and finding some delieiousness at the first contest,
and in that activity of their passion, they make
vows to bind themselves for ever to this state of
delicacies. The onset is fair: but the event is
this. The age ofa person is not long, and the
spirit being breathed out, the man begins to abate
of his first heats, and is ashamed : but then he
considers that all that was not necessary, and
therefore he will abate something more; and
from something to something, at last it will come
to just nothing, and the proper effect ofthis is,
indignation, and hatred of holy things, an im-
prudent spirit, carelessness or dispair. Zeal some-
times carries a man into temptation; and he
that never thinks he loves God dutifully or ac-
ceptably, because he is not imprisoned for him,
or undone, or designed to martyrdom, may do-
sire atrial that will undo him. It is like fight-
flng a duel to show our valonr. Stay till the
king nruraannnntln .)Inu In F-glut nnri tlio, nnHrl1nnlpI‘
zeal do its noblest oflices. This irregularity
and mistake was too frequent in the primitive
church, when men and women would strive for
death, and be ambitions to feel the hangman’s
sword ; some miscarried in the attempt, and be-
came sad examples ofthe unequal yoking a frail
spirit with a zealous driver.
THE KINDNESS OF GOD.
As we fear the judgment, so should we adore
the law and goodness of heaven, and let the gel-
den chains ofthe divine mercy tie us to a noble
prosecution of our duty, and the interest ofrclig-
ion. Fear is stronger than death, and law is
more prevalent than fear, and kindness is the
greatest endearment of love ; and yet to an in-
genious mind, gratitude is greater than all these,
and obliges to solemn duty when love fails, and
fear is dull and inactive, and death itself is des-
fised, Mercy is like a rainbow, which God sets
in the clouds to remember mankind ; it shines
here as long as it is not hindered : but we must
never look for it after it is night, and it shines
not in the other world. If we refuse mercy here
we shall have justice in all eternity. ‘
A c1utis'riA-N's RELIGION.
The whole religion of a christian, as relatesto
others, is nothing buijustice and mercy, certain
parents ofpeace and benefit. The very charity,
and love, and mercy, that is commanded in our
religion, is in itselfa great excellency ; not only
in order to heaven, but to the comforts of earth,
NOBVVALHK, UGN. TUESDAY, FEBR.'UA.E?;Y 16, 1836.
,_..
too, and such, without which :1 man is not worthy
of a blessing or a comfort.
FALSEIIOOD.
Fables, apologues, parables, or figures of
rhetoric, and any artificial instrument of instruc-
tion or innocent pleasures, are not to be reckoned
under this head. But he that without any end of
chairity orinstruction shall speak untruths, only
to become ridiculous in hiiusclf, or inoclt another
hath set something upon his doomsday book,
which must be taken offby water or by fire, that
is, by repentance or a judgment.
THE FARIVIEIPS DEI’AR'l‘MENT.
SHEEP AND woor. GRowi.\'c..—I have long
felt a solicitude for the success of the wool grow-
cr,‘as his interest must be considered as intimate-
ly blended with our prosperity as a nation. As
an agricultural people, we should aim at entire
independence in all things wh_ich our climate
will admit or our soil produce. The fi_vc mil-'
lions of dollars which we pay to France and
England for silks, is neither tI_1.U.re nor less than
atribute paid by us to their agricultural and
manufacturing skill, and which ought to be,
andI trust soon will be dispciised with, or in
other words, retained at home, as so in ucli pro-
ductive capital added annually to. the nation's
wealth. So. the twenty or more millions we
have yearly paid for the wool ofSpai_n and Sax-
ony,and the woolens of England and l_\‘rance,
should be viewed in the same light, and _consid-
cred as a disgraceful burden, from which we
should extricate ourselves as far and as fast as
possible. There can no good reason be given
why the meadows of the northern states cannot
produce as good flocks of sheep, and as fine
quantities of wool, as similar regions in Saxony
or Andalusia; or why the manufacturing skill
and industry of our free citizens, cannot coin-
pcte successfully with the spiritlcss artists of the
the old world. To expect that all this can be
accomplished at once is idle ; time is required,
capital and perseverance must be ctnployed and
exerted, and it is now evident that these are suc__-
cessfully used. The prices which all kinds of
wool, more particularly the higher grades, have
for a few years past commanded, have justified
the attention which has been paid to this branch
of farming, and is beginning to amply compen-
sate those who long, and almost withotit remu-
neration, endcavored to introduce the best breeds
of foreign sheep, and render the quality of our
native wools nncxceptionable.
There are many sections of our country,
which are not adapted to the production of grain
but which are most excellent for pasturage, and
in some cases, nature herself seems to have
pointed out the most proper means to be adopt-
ed in the cplture nf the soil. ’I.‘00 long have the
fat-ni_ers in such parts of our state been engaged
in attemptingthe cultivation of wheat and corn,
tolerable crops may have some times been
raised, as a whole their systern of farming is a
failure. Until grain commands a higher price
than at present, to undertake to force its growth
on uneongenial soils, must result in a loss to the
farmer; and he who, with the present lights of
experience, and present prospects before him,
persists in sowing wheat or planting com, when
he iriight cover his plains with herds, and hills
with flocks, most clearly mistakes his true inter-
ests. It need but little skill in arithmetic to
show, that where the average crop of wheat does
not exceed from ten to fifteen bushels per acre,
it cannot be raised with profit; the best thing
the owner ofsnch a farm can do, is to convert
it at once into a grazing farm. There is every
probability that fine wool will continue to com-
mand a good price, since it may be in our cli-
mate, considered one ofthe absolute necessaries
of life, and not to be dispensed with ; and afarm
adapted to its production, taking all things into
consideration, the wool grower or the dairyinan,
can_i.ot fall so far behind the wheat grower in nett
profit as some have imagined.
In getting a flock of sheep, much care and at-
tention are requisite, in order that the breed of
sheep and the quality of the wool be of the
kind desired. There is at present something of
a controversy going on in this country between
the friends of the Spanish Merino and the Sax-
on Merino. It is alledged that the former are
asa whole, heavier bodied sheep, and in our
country have proved the hardiest; whilst the
wool produced by the Saxony is clearly.superi-
or to the former. Reasoning from analogy, we
shouljyl hardly expect that the assertion of the
Spa V ish race of nierinoes being the hartliest
could be substantiated. It is well known that
the Saxon breeds were derived from Spain in
about 1770, and from the similarity of the soil
and climate in the north of Germany to ours,
they may have been considered as acclimated
with us on their fiistintroduction from the Elec-
toral flocks to our country, '
_ No wool in Spain can be found equal to that
of S-axonv. and it. bears in Fnglnnrl as.“-all n=
in this country a corresponding price. As to‘
size, considered with reference to the fleece, na-
ture herselfseems to have prescribed rules which
are never departed from. Fine wool and large
body, or fine wool with a heavy fleece, have in
all ages, from the time of the silky Tarentines
of Columella. the fine Merinos ofAudalusia and
Castile, to the beautiful Electoral flocks of Stol-
pen, been found incompatible. \Vhat has been‘
gained in one point by crosses, and mixtures, has
invariably been at the expense of another. The
man, therefore, who wishes to select a flock of
sheep, must understand his object before coin-
mencing. If the finest qualities of wool be his
object, let him look out for the purest and least
mixed blood. If he desir_es a large fleece and
plenty of mutton, he need be less scrupulous;
but let him not expect to shear silky wool from
the race of Anakins. So far as our knowledge
and experience extends. we prefer the Saxony
kind of sheep ; we have only to say, let others
suit themselves.
On another point has there arisen a difference
of opinion among wool growers—the relative
profit on flocks composed respectively of weth-
ers and ewes. It is generally admitted that the
clip from the wethers is rather the greatest, and
some have supposed that the wool was of a su-
perior quality; but there is reason to believe
that where this superiority has existed, it was
because tliewetliers passed the winter in better
order than the ewes. When too it is remember-
ed that from 100 ewes, 75 lambs, will under or-
NO. 14.
E._,,_--
dinarycircumstanccs, be raised, there can be
but little doubt. lthink, that ewes are on the
whole the most profitable, and of course should
constitute a large part of the fluck.—Cr'cnescc
Farmer.
L
TEIVI PE RA NCE lR‘E_§lORD.
wiixt-: AS A Bi:vi_;i‘._~i(:i-:.
The following letter from the President of
Princeton College,contains some interesting facts
in relation to thc habitual use of wine, derived
from the personal experience of the writer. As
such, they are valuable. The letter is address-
ed to the Rev. Justin Edwards, and dated Princ-
ton, .Ian_. 1, 1536.
Rein and dear sir.--Your cointnuiiication of
Noveiiiber the 17th, reached me on the .‘.’.5tli,
and would have been acknowedged before, had
not my engagmcnts oftlie most urgent kind de-
prived me of the requisite leisure. It gives me
l’°C"l*"“' l’lC3.5U.f<.3a l0'co.mply \.Vilh_ pour request.
in regard to the use of all intoxicating drinlis,
bccansel verily believe that the well being of
spciety, and especially the best interests of the
rising generation, must be considered as deeply
involved in the banishment of such drinks from
habitual use. You request a statement of my
own experience in reference to. this matter. I
never was in the habit of using ardent spirits.
and during the earlier periods of my life seldom
drank wine. Yet my abstinence from it, prior
to the 43d year of my age, cannot be said to have
been either systematic or rigid. In that year I
had ascvcre fit of illness, in recovering from
it, the use of some sound old wine, which was
providentially within my reach. was so striking-
ly beneficial, that my physician advised me to
continue it after my recovery, and, indeed, ex-
pressed the opinion that I ought to take at least
one glass, if not two. of good wine daily to the
end of my life. I followed his advice for more
than sixteen years. I very seldom drank more
than one glass, and never more than two glass-
cs. In this niodcrate usel was almost invaria-
bly regular; and great were the pains to which
Isubmitted, from time to time, for obtaining
wine oi"p_ut'e and indubitable qualities, not as a
matter of luxury, but of liealth._
During all this time, my health, though not
bad, was delicate; and towardsthe latter part of
the sixteen yearsjust mentioned, there was eve-
ry appearance that my constitution was giving
way, and that a premature and feeble old age
was creeping upon tne. Still I had no suspi-
cion that the wine was hurting me, and only
supposed that, in spite of its benefits, my se-
dentary habits were undermining my strength.
More than six years ago, when 1 was approach-
ing my 60th year, hearing so much said about
the mischeifs of stimulating drinks, and enter-
tering as I did with cordial zeal into the Tem-
pcrance reformation, I determined to go beyond
those around me, and to abstain not merely from
ardentspirits, but to make the experiment, for
at least three months, what should be the effect
of an immediate and entire abstinence from
wine, and all intoxicating beverages. Accord-
ingly, I broke oil‘ at once, and from that day to
this, have not tasted wine. excepting at the sac-
ramental table. I.have also abstained, during
that time, from cider, beer, and every species of
drink stronger than water, and never set any of
them on my table, unless they are called for by
peculiar circumstances.
The experiment had not preceeded more than
asingle month, before I became satisfied that
my abstinence was not only distinctly, but very
strikingly beneficial. I was so far from suffer-
ing any injury from the abstractioii ofmy accus-
tomed stimulus, that the effect was all on the
other way. My appetite was more uniform
and healthful ; my digestion decidedly im-
proved; and all my mental exercises more
clear, pleas ant, and successful. Instead of a-
waking in the morning with parched lips, and
with a sense offeverish heat, such feelings were
almost entirely banished; and instead of that
nervous irritability, which during my indul-
gence in wine, was seldom wholly absent, I am
now favored with a state of feeling, in this re-
spect, very greatly improved. In short, my ex-
perience precludes all doubt, that the entire dis-
use of all intoxicating drinks, has been connect-
ed. in my case, with benefits of the most signal
kind. with much firmer health than I enjoyed
twenty years ago, with more cheerful feelings,
with greater alacrity of _mind, and with a very
sensible increase of my capacity for labor ofev-
ery kind. I can never cease to be grateful that
I was led to make this experiment, and think it
highly probable, that if I had not adopted this
course, I should not now have been in the land
ofthe living. '
I have had occasion, frequently, to observe
that some who, like myself, drink nothing but
water, are very liberal in their use of that ele-
ment. They drink it often-and largely, and espe-
c-tally make a very free use nf‘ it :11 rllnnnr. 'l‘l.:=
was once my own habit, but _I became fully con-
vinced that it was not salutary, at least to ‘me.-—
The truth is, since I have left off the use ofall
intoxicating drinks, I seldom experience the
sensation ofthirst. Often I do nottoucli a parti-
cle of any kink of drink at dinner. and even when
I am overtaken with thirst, I find that, my
case, it is better slaked with a, few tea spoon
fulls ofwater, taken slowly, and at several swal-
lows, than a whole tumbler full, or double that
quantity, as many are accustomed to take. I
am very confideiit that we may take too much
even of water, and that deluging the" stomach
even with the most innocent fluid, tends to in-
terfere with perfect digestion,
I feel a deep interest, my dear sir, in the re-
ception and prevalence of these opinions. It
would be well for the church and the world, if
our present race ofyonng men, especially those
in our serninaries and colleges, could be prevailed
upon to enter into the spirit and practice of this
doctrine, How many broken con stitutions ;
how many cases of miserable nervous debility ;
how many degraded characters ; how many
melancholy wrecks of domestic peace, and of
official usefulness, would"be spared, if we could
make our beloved young men believe us when
we speak thus '! May the Lord enlighten and
counsel them in-his time ! With many prayers
that you and your associates may be guided and
prospered in your benevolent labors,
Iam, ‘Rev. and dear Sir, your friend and
brother, S.-tMU1«".L' MiLLsii.
'labor of their own hands, and improve all the
M]tSCELLANY. S -
PE.-tcu.—-Tlie following remarks by Lord
Clarendon, are admirable :— '
Peace is that harmony in the State that health
is in the body. No honor, profit, no plenty
can make him happy who is sick with a’ fever
in his blood, and with defluctions and aches in
his joints and bones ; but health restored gives
a relish to the other blessings ; and is very nler-.
ry without them : no kingdom can flourish or
be at ease in which there is no peace,--which,
only makes men dwell at home and enjoy the,
advantages which the air, and the climate, and
the soil, administers to them; and all which
yield no comfort where there is no peace. God,
himself reckons health the greatest blessing ‘he,
can bestow upon mankind, and peace the greatest
coinfortand ornament he can bestow upon States,
which are a multitude of men. gathered together.
They who delight most in war are so ashamed
ofit, that they pret_eud to desire nothing but peace,
that their heart is set upon nothing else. \Vhen
Czcsar was engaging all the world in war, he
wrote to Tully, "There was nothing worthier of
an honest man than to have contention with no-
body.” It was the highest aggravation thatthe
prophet could find out in the description of the
grcatestwickdeness, that “the way of peace they
lx',HOW 1103;” and the greatest punishment, of all
their crookedness and p_crverseiiesg iyag, ma‘
“they should not know peace.” A greargf curgg,
cannot befall the most wicked nation, than to be
deprived of peace. There is nothing of real and
substantial comfort in this world but what is the
product of peace ; and whatsoever we mav law-_
fully and innocc ntly take delight in is the fruit
and effect ofpeace. The solemn service of God,
and performing our duty to Him in the exercise
ofregular devotion, which is the gl‘e.',1[Cs[_l_vL' . ~‘
ofour life, and in which we ought to-3‘ ‘ ‘
delight. is the issue of peace. I\,‘_.""i I
that order, interrupts all tliat,-«'=
extinguislicth all that 2_.e!:M—"
kindled in us; lays was
God as well asofin_ai_i ~ \
gates opinions an "
Heaven’ as agai.
that delights in
Are we pleas-:_;"
and society of?
tlieretired :
a
this we 1.
this pea’t?._ .. ‘
short titn
delight in’;
any coriteny,
tion ofcach .
standing of
adorn maul :5‘.-
tationsdotlie 3?‘.
stand? cveii tli.‘§l‘;.,.,
of peace; and i_.v‘a-fl;
as waste as our garden,,
we can as easily prcserlt”
as the integrity ofthe g
jurisdiction of tlrumsaiii ,_
An craniplefor La_7/wars.
troller-General of the Financ‘
Louis XIV, ha_d been ti celeb ,
—He once lost a Cause in which l".-A
ed through his excessive fondness
His client called on him the day '~ _
treme affliction, and told him that ifliji
use of a document which ha_d beem
hands, but which beiliad neglected ,
a verdict would have been given in
Chamillart read it, and found it of di
portance to his cause. "You sued Kllt3r.,.e
ant,” said he “for 20,000 livrcs. You havr”
failed through my_.inadvertence. It is my dirt!
to do you justice. Call on me in two days.’’-'-.-
In the mean time Chainillart procured the inn:
ney, and paid it to his client, on no other condi-
tion than that he would keep the transaction gt
secret, ,.
«
Sz'mplicily.—-Sorne years since, a sober, zo ’*- r I
ous, Connecticut parson, went to catechi/' .13
family in his parish, who were not so wel 9973'.
ed in the rndiiricnts of divinity as many‘ F5." .- ,
\Vhcn arrived, he thought p_roper.to b,$!_fl__“!'“a'“-‘-_"',F»-Z-5'“
Lois, the eldest daughter, a girl aboutffiéigiateen
years ofagc, and buxom as May; whose charms
had smitten the voting villagf-'3 swains with an
epidemic. .‘.tWell, Lois,” said the person, "I
shall begin with you; come, tell inc who died ,
for you.” Lois, with a charming flush in her
cheek; replied, “‘lVhy, nobody, as I know on."
The parson, rather snrprized at her answer, re-
peated bis question with increased zeal. Lois
rather irritated at the iptjuisitive p,-“son, 3,135,;
Vefllleds “Why. nobody. sir; lllére was Torr}
Dawson lay bed-ridden for me about six months
but folks say he has got about again.’?'\ i i
A P}iEDicAim;:n'r.—Oiie evening when the
British House of Commons was abo_u_tt_o adjourn,
John \Vill»;es spra_ng'npon his feet, and in ‘great
agony’ requested permission to deliver llimsglfa
speech ; ‘for,’ said he, ‘ I havesent a copy to the
Public Advertiser, and how r_i_diculons shopilq
appear, ifit were published without hgvipgihcen
delivered.’ " ' '
The young Queen of Portugal has shown the
preference ofher sex for that species oftropps sq
fa mous for their dashing costume, we mean [ha ,
Lancers, “les lanciers," the same who gave :7
their name to the fasliionable quadrillc at Al-
mack’s. XVell, it seems the officers induced
their soldiers to vote at the elections. The ruin,-
isters dismissed the offenders. The oflicers calr ,1
led on the iQueeu.--she received them ' alone
and most graciously—restored them to rank and
dismissed her whole ministry. So _mut,-lb’ fora.
Queen and petticoat government!
An odd sort ofa genius. having ster2ned,5:<.tg 1. _,
mitt, was looking with apparent astonighmem g";
the rotary movements _of the rn,ar;hine;-y,'_w}_,e’;';
the miller, thinking to quiz him, asked ifhé had
heard the news’! “Not’s lgnow on," s'£ii_‘d Jog";
athan, “what is it!” “Wl1y,” replied tire" ri1ille'r.
“they say the "devil is dead.” “By ji,r_ig‘s!'.’hé
exclaimed, “is he ? ‘Who tends the rnill, tl_ien'.?“.
Caleb Whitefoorde was once challenged to
make a pun in three minutes on the Latinigéi-i
rands. dz’. do. and d:,m,z- He produced the fol-
lowing ccruplet: l' ' ' "
The mourning Queen, ]Erteas hoped wgpld
Como’ .
And wept in silence :--she was Dido dam.
Ile tli__en'offered to make an off‘-hiarid upmup.
on any subject. ‘?Tlie King,” said "5 _rie‘n,d‘.—'_-
‘,‘The King is no ,subjcct," was the irrstantapcé
Qus reply? . . j
-———-:——+—-———————.;‘— .
Rents are said in the‘ N. York papers. to
exorbitantly high the lower art‘9_f _the.Cjt-yfj
many of the stores in Broad, , inc, and Libeiqtg
street are renting at frptn IQ $10,000 pt:
annuin ! ! ' ' ' I A i
The Secretary of the ’l‘reasury, at Washing:
' through the Globe, the rtigzcipt
.
ton,ackno\vledgés, _ ' . _
by mail of $50 from Conpeticut-—f‘rpfon_ey duo
the United States." ' ' " " '
The National Intelligencer reports, that
Aiwiuzw S_'rEvr:NsoN,‘has been nominated
the President to the Senate, as Minister to Eng“:-
land, and JOHN H. EATON. as Minister to
Spain.
Norwalk Chronicler